26. Real
( Three weeks later )
The lingering cloud of smoke was probably the best sign that my brothers and I should slow down. But slumped on the comfortable-as-fuck sectional in Cairo’s den, eyes low, mind mellow, and stomach rumbling, I couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. I watched as Ghazi toked on the blunt then pulled it away from his lips to just stare at it as he held on to a mouthful of smoke. He let go finally, his exhalation adding to the earthy, citrusy scent permeating the air. He shook his head, his locs shifting with the movement.
“You said Sway sent you this?” he asked.
I nodded. At least, I tried. My head moved up, but I wasn’t sure about the down part.
“Fucking gas-gas, my nigga,” Ghazi exclaimed.
Cairo chuckled quietly, relaxing in his own zone.
“What he call this shit?” my big brother inquired.
I sat up a little bit so I could explain.
“Nigga been developing his own strains. Got twelve he named after the Zodiac. This one is Aries. Betta be glad I like y’all niggas. Started to hide this shit after I tried it last weekend,” I told them truthfully before reclining again.
I was feeling good as hell, calmer than I had in a couple of weeks. There were benefits to owning your own businesses, especially when those businesses together were valued at nine figures. But the fires my siblings and I had had to put out lately were related to what we’d inherited from Ismail and had damn near drained me. All I needed now was a good meal and some even better pussy. Speaking of which…
I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and tapped on the text app. Who would I finally bless tonight? My moms kept hollering at us about settling down, but shit with Ev had me deaf to my OG’s arguments. Shorty had let me fuck on her after the Abbra situation, then ignored me for a solid week, before sending a couple of stiff ass texts in the last couple of weeks. I wasn’t as bad as Ghazi’s one-and-done ass, but I had a few not-so-sneaky links that I had started back responding to. I figured I was overdue to visit them. Just as I expected, a couple of them had reached out. Halima, sweet and shy until her back hit them sheets, had texted her usual Wyd? Jada’s freaky ass had sent a picture of two of her fingers sunk deep in that tight, soaking wet box and the words Cum over .
“You picking tonight’s victim?” Ghazi asked with a grin. “Trying hard to fight yo’ feelings for wifey, huh?”
Nigga knows me too well , I thought, ignoring him and turning my attention to Cairo.
“You ain’t got nothing to eat in this bitch?”
He shrugged. “Kitchen is stocked. Help yourself.”
“Yo’ hospitality ain’t shit. Where Keelah?” I asked about his housekeeper and sometimes cook.
His easy smile disappeared, and his body language changed completely.
“She quit,” he mumbled, voice tight.
Ghazi and I just stared, first at Cairo, then, at each other. The fuck? Keelah was like an extension of this nigga—he acted like nothing functioned without her.
“Keelah… left you?”
Ghazi’s voice was filled with the same disbelief I felt. Cairo grilled him before standing abruptly.
“I think it’s time for y’all to clear out. I got a pussy appointment even if you weak ass niggas ain’t getting none,” he spat.
“Cai—" I began, my high suddenly fading as I noticed my brother’s agitation.
“Nah, nigga. You hungry, call that pretty little chunky jawn fam said you brought to the restaurant. You know them big girls can throw down,” he interrupted me.
I rose, my six-four height matching his as I scowled at him. I wasn’t possessive over any bitch, but for some reason, his words pissed me off.
“Her name is Evanie and don’t be making jokes about her just cuz you probably done messed up and fucked the help?—"
Ghazi stepped between us, moving faster than I thought the weed would allow, and grabbed Cairo, throwing his sudden punch off target. I didn’t mind rumbling, but I wasn’t upset that the nigga missed. I swear Cairo’s fists were dipped in steel.
“Get the fuck out, Real,” he roared.
Yeah, Keelah must have really left because Cairo rarely let anyone see him lose his cool. I mean, two minutes ago, we were vibing hard as hell, and now this. My brother was obviously fucked-up, but I wasn’t about to be his punching bag. If he wanted to square up, we could square up.
Grabbing my shit from the coffee table, I exited his house and climbed into my bronze Range, headed toward the Heights. Cairo had made me mad, but he was probably right—popping up at Ev’s usually guaranteed a good meal, bomb pussy, and no drama. I could use that right now. I hadn’t seen her since Naqeesa called for my help with Gin and Syn, despite those two texts. I was ready to lay eyes on her.
Ev worked half days most Fridays. She was probably already in some lounging clothes, reading a book or some shit. I side-eyed the box truck on her driveway but there wasn’t any telling what she was having delivered. She didn’t respond to the bell, but I figured she was busy with her delivery. I reached for the doorknob, just to test it. Her front door was unlocked, and I opened my mouth to get on her ass then stopped and realized that the soothing earth tones that usually greeted me as I walked in were gone. Frowning, I also noticed that the scents of her southern cooking were missing, too.
“What the hell?” I mumbled as I strolled through the initial foyer into a hallway with doors that led to her office and a room she used for storage. The hallway ended a few feet shy of the wide staircase. To the left was her living room. Except for a few boxes and two niggas in black shirts and khakis, it was empty. Their conversation stopped when they saw me. I mugged them in silence. They glanced at each other before the shorter one spoke.
“You looking for Ms. Hill? She?—"
“I’m right here,” Ev’s voice, soft but heavy with its accent, reached my ears.
She walked through the now-empty dining room on the other side of the stairs, and I watched her confident stroll. Shorty was bad, I acknowledged, my eyes drifting from the full breasts barely held in by her little black dress to the curvy hips filling out that dress. I wanted to feel her lips, painted a deep red, somewhere on my body. They curved a little as she looked at me. One arched brow lifted, and she tossed the locks of her wavy hair over her shoulder.
“Hello, stranger,” she greeted.
That little tease of a smile grew as she stopped in front of me. Apparently, she was no longer fucked up about the phone call, but looking at this house, I wasn’t on that no more, either.
“The fuck you going, Evanie? The fuck is yo’ shit?” I demanded, surprising myself.
She sighed, then shook her head at me.
“Real… suga, we should probably go in the office,” she drawled before turning to the two men.
She reached into her large, gray Céline bag and withdrew her wallet, pulling out several bills. She handed them to one of the movers.
“Your tip. The office already has my card on file. Just close the door when you finish,” she instructed.
The short nigga grinned, letting his eyes stray over her body.
“Yes, ma’am, Ms. G?—"
“Hurry the fuck up,” I spat at him.
That smile disappeared from his goofy ass face. Evanie sighed.
“Seriously, Real?” she fussed.
“Office,” I gritted out before leading her there.
Throwing open the door and seeing the empty space just pissed me off more. Nothing was left except the heavy oak desk. I whirled on her, slamming the door behind her, before backing her against the wall.
“You gon’ tell me what the h?—"
“I’ve been trying to tell you! If you would return a text, you’d know that,” she cut me off, her voice still soft.
Evanie never raised her voice and even that shit was driving me right now. But she was right. She’d reached out, but I’d been busy with work. And I had decided to stay away from her just because I needed the distance to make sure I could slow down and control whatever this was between us.
“You moving? You couldn’t just text that? Where you moving?” I shot questions at her angrily, not liking the way I was feeling.
“I’m leaving the city for a while.”
I refused to acknowledge the relief that washed over me. My body relaxed and I took a step back.
“Another job? That’s cool. How long? You ain’t have to move, love. I would’ve?—"
“It’s not another job… exactly,” she said.
I scowled at her. “Then what is it?”
She blew out a soft breath and looked down for a moment. Finally, her pretty brown gaze tangled with mine.
“It’s really not your concern, Real. I figure, this way, we can make a clean break. It’s been really nice, and you were very generous, but I think it’s time we part ways.”
To say shorty’s little cool, calm statement caught me off-guard was an understatement. Not even Cairo’s punch would’ve stunned me more. I just stared at her for a minute as an unfamiliar feeling sideswiped me. I pushed that shit down in a hurry, though, focusing on the anger her flip-ass words evoked in me. My lips rose in a half smile.
“This about that phone call? Or that Naaman shit?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. The fact that there would be an ending, hopefully an amicable one, was understood from the beginning.”
“What, you got another sponsor?” I jeered.
Something flickered in her light brown gaze, something she squashed quickly. She didn’t say anything, just reached into her oversized bag and pulled out a padded Manila envelope.
“I didn’t know if I would see you, so I planned to pack this stuff up and have it delivered to you,” she said quietly, opening the package.
But I didn’t give a fuck what was in that envelope. I needed an answer to my question.
“Who is it? I know the nigga ain’t fuckin’ you like I do. Doubt his money like mine. So, tell me, love, just for curiosity’s sake. Who paying for you now?” I demanded, my words deliberately nasty.
She froze for a minute, her hands clutching that envelope, her mouth slightly parted like she wanted to say something. Instead, after a minute, she started pulling things from the envelope. First, was a cashier’s check.
“You paid advance rent. They refunded it,” she explained as I looked at the watermarked paper. “The key fob for the BMW. It’s in storage at a place owned by Liam, so you know it’s in good hands.”
She pulled out a couple more things and kept talking like I was supposed to care about any of it. I was fighting to hold on to my right mind. I’d never hurt her, but shit could still get bad.
“Evanie,” I growled, balling up the check and throwing it at her feet. “I’on want that shit. Answer my question.”
Another pause. Another calm look.
“Real, if there is another so-called ‘sponsor,’ that’s not your business. Can’t we just?—"
“Nah! Nah, ‘we can’t just’ cuz you handled this shit real shady. A move this big, you probably been knowing about it. Longer than the two weeks you tried to contact me! Why you ain’t tell me before?” I demanded, crowding into her space again.
“I really didn’t think you’d care. Don’t act like you ain’t probably fucking three or four other bitches, Montréal,” she hissed, her composure slipping.
Good. I wanted her aggravated, mad, feeling as fucked up as I was, even if she was wrong about my sex life. Shorty planned to walk away from me , Real Hamilton, without saying anything? That ain’t how this shit worked. One side of my mouth twisted up into a smirk.
“Shoulda told me that bothered you, love,” I taunted.
Instantly, she was back to her detached self. Her face was cool as she ran a hand over her hair.
“I’m not bothered. We have no claims to each other. I don’t have the vested interest to be bothered by you and your bed partners,” she announced coldly. “Honestly, that’s why I find your reaction surprising.”
I didn’t know if she meant it as a jab, but that’s how I took it. I chuckled.
“Don’t flatter yourself, mama. I’m just looking out—I’on need some crazy nigga plotting on me over pussy.”
“Hmm.” She looked at me for a moment. “You have nothing to worry about.”
The fuck did that mean? Was there someone else or not? She was being coy, and I didn’t like that.
“So, I hope we’ll be able to split on good terms?”
I felt my smile shift all the way to evil. Grabbing her throat gently, I tilted her head back until her eyes met mine.
“Yeah. But how about one last fuck for old time’s sake?” I asked crudely.
Her eyes blazed before she was able to hide her anger… or her desire.
“As appealing as you make that sound, I can’t.” Her tone was level, but I knew sarcasm was dripping from every word. “I have somewhere to be.”
I scowled at her. “You can run tonight, but this conversation not over.”
“This conversation is definitely over. And I don’t owe you answers. I’m leaving soon,” she announced, stepping away from the wall.
I caged her right back in, one arm on either side of her head as she retreated.
“Seriously, Real?—"
She gasped as I brought my face within an inch of hers, my lips hovering above her parted ones.
“You think I won’t find you and find out exactly what I want to know, love? Keep fucking with me and see,” I growled.
I watched the pulse in her neck beat faster. Her breath escaped her in soft little puffs and her brown eyes betrayed feelings of unease and the unsated lust that connected us. Evanie liked to play unaffected, but I knew how to get to her. I brushed a kiss against her lips and smirked at her. Moving away, I opened the door just as one of the movers yelled, “Ms. Hill, we gone!”
Unaware that I had opened the door, he added, “Witcho fine ass,” under his breath, making his sorry-ass co-worker giggle. I cleared my throat and stepped into the hallway. The goofy ass laughter stopped. Two sets of eyes widened on me as the owners of those wary faces tried to balance the last of the boxes.
“Something funny?” I inquired, sliding my hands into my pockets and leaning a shoulder against the wall.
I waited as they muttered and stared, one of them finally getting up the nerve to mumble, “No, sir.”
“Then get the fuck out,” I ordered, my voice cold.
I’d had about enough of their tired asses. I looked over at Evanie standing in the doorway. Her, I definitely hadn’t had enough of. This particular entanglement wouldn’t end until I said so.