Chapter 3
"Where you think you going?" April asked, coming out of the bathroom while I laced my sneakers. I smirked and stood, grabbing my wallet and keys from the nightstand.
"One day, you're going to understand that you don't have any authority over this way. If you keep that shit up, I promise you will never see me again."
"I'm saying, though, Ru. Why you always gotta leave right after? I enjoy having you around for a minute so I won't feel like some prostitute."
Running a hand over my waves, I replied, "April… You are a prostitute."
"Fuck you, Ruger!"
"You just did that, and as always, it was slimy yet satisfying." She glared at me while I tossed on my vest and headed out of her room.
Approaching the door, I felt her little palms push me.
"Don't call me no more! Asshole!"
I swiftly turned, grabbing April by the neck and pushing her against the wall. The action was subtle, but I applied a little pressure to let her know I wasn't playing.
"Don't put your hands on me in that way, April. I don't put my hands on you, so don't go that way with me." Her crazy ass moaned and placed her hands on my hips, pulling me to her.
"I'm sorry. Can you just stay for a little longer? I can make you something to eat. What do you like?"
I could see the lust dancing in her orbs, and I shook my head while releasing her.
A half smile lifted on my face. "You're crazy. I'll get at you later. I got shit to do," I told her, opening the door to her apartment and walking out.
I had been dealing with April for about six months now. It wasn't as often as her crazy ass wanted, and that was for a reason. Like most women, she couldn't grasp the concept of having boundaries, and that often led me to stay away for weeks at a time. If I fucked with you, then you were the only one getting the dick. I didn't go around fucking every woman in sight, even when I knew I could. I preferred to stick with what I knew versus adding bodies I had to juggle. It wasn't often that I found a chick worthy enough to damage her insides lethally, but April had caught my eye when she strolled into my bar one night. Her sad eyes told the story of her heartbroken past.
I'd like to think I was a healer, and I just wanted to put a smile on her pretty face. However, I laid out the ground rules. I even had her ass sign a contract stating that what we had was strictly sexual. There would be no overnight stays or dates, but if she ever needed me to break her off, I'd happily oblige. I should have known she would want more. Women always did. They always wanted what wasn't available to them, then got mad when they couldn't have the one thing they always pined after — my heart. I saw enough niggas getting their hearts broken or heavily into toxic relationships to know I ain't want that shit. Loving someone felt too much like a job, and I already had a lot on my plate. Drama, toxicity, and stress seemed to be key factors in relationships, so I was cool on that.
Hopping on my bike, I put my helmet on and started the engine. I kicked it off the kickstand, looked both ways, then pulled off her block nice and easy, heading to meet Gruesome, who I had waiting at my house.
Each man in my crew had a story, including myself. Grue's story was a little rocky because of his mental health. From what he told me, his parents split on him and his sister when he turned eighteen. From there, he became a stick-up kid just to get by until he ran into an old head that took him in.
He was only twenty when I met him. It wasn't a pleasant greeting either. The nigga was trying to break into my bike shop. I hemmed his ass up, about to crack his jaw, when somebody pulled up, explaining that he was off his meds, and pleaded for me not to hurt him. I recognized him as Trenton, one of my employees at the shop, and an old friend of my father's. I let him go on account of Trent, but I warned him to get his ass in check or the next time he was getting a bullet. The very next day, Trent brought him back to my shop, asking if he could work for me. I initially said, 'fuck no'. I didn't want his thieving ass working for me, but because I respected Trent, I heard him out.
Gruesome introduced himself to me with his government name, Ghana, and gave me this whole spiel about him needing to work to take care of his sister. A sister I'd never seen until today. I could sense he was being genuine, so I allowed him to work for me. I was only twenty-two when my pops handed his bike shop over to me. I had just graduated from WSU, and as a graduation gift, he gave me the keys, and since then, it has been my pride and joy. I kept an eye on Grue for almost a year before I could trust him. From then on, he had been my left-hand... but he knew the rules. Never leave a nigga to talk unless he feared what would happen if he did. Those Blaze niggas didn't give a fuck about a fuck, so I already knew that when he walked into my bar screaming they had his sister, he was making me come off the bench.
Out of all the years I'd known him, Grue kept his sister tucked away. I never thought too much about it and just chucked it up to his mental condition and dubbed him as delusional. When he came in enraged, I hesitated because I really thought shorty wasn't real. When I pulled that sackcloth from her head, my world paused. I had never been stumped for words, but she had me speechless. Kenzi's smooth, rich mocha skin tone was blemish-free, with a beauty mark on the left side of her top lip. Her hair was big and was in tight curls. Her eyes were the same color as her skin, with a slender nose and full pink lips. Shorty was magnificent if I had to describe her. However, that mouth was reckless, so I knew I wouldn't be entertaining any thoughts of taking her down.
Pulling up to my condo, I could see Grue sitting on my front steps. He was smoking a cigarette, looking fucking stressed, as the fuck he should be.
I parked my bike in the driveway and walked over to him.
"I thought you quit them nasty shits."
"Yeah, well, I started back up again."
"This is on you, Grue. A man protects his family from danger. Your sister should have never been hanging around them clowns, anyway."
"I didn't know, Ruger. That thot bitch she calls a best friend had her hanging around them niggas. And Kenz don't tell me shit. Her ass lives in Rochester, away from the city. I never exposed her to my world because she ain't like me. She's too soft."
I scoffed. "Soft? Nah, her ass ain't soft at all," I disagreed, thinking about her feisty-ass attitude.
"She talks tough, but her ass is Jell-O."
"What's your plan, Ghana?" I asked, changing the subject. He blew out a heavy breath and looked off. "I'm ready for whatever time them niggas on. I know they ain't gon' let this shit go, so I need to handle them first."
"You know what you gotta do, right?" His head lowered. "Nah, hold ya head up, G. What was my number one rule when you joined MCR?"
"Never move recklessly. Recklessness results in punishment," he recited.
I nodded. "I'm only hard on you niggas because I don't like hurting motherfuckas. My club wasn't built on larceny or malice. I built this club to show people that there are people out here who still give a fuck about others. Honor Santana. May he rest in eternal peace. He taught his family how to show humility, grace, and resilience. I take his lessons with me everywhere I go and apply that shit to my everyday life. I operate in peace, and when my peace gets disturbed, that's a problem for me, because now I gotta be on demon time. And for what? Some shit that ain't got shit to do with me?"
"I apologize, man. I know how you are, and I wasn't thinking. It's on me, though. You don't have to fight my battles."
I frowned at him. "What's my second rule?"
"Come on, Ru," Grue said, running his hand down his fade.
"What is it, nigga?"
"One band, one sound. If one of us rides, we all ride."
"It's crazy that you know the rules but didn't apply that shit!"
"I was off my meds?—"
"That ain't no fucking excuse, bro. You know I treat you like a little brother. We've been rocking for damn near fifteen years, and for you to not stay on top of your shit is a problem for me. Now I gotta babysit ya sister because you didn't think the shit through."
"I can stay wit' her until?—"
"Nah, you stay away from her until this shit blows over. That's what you're going to do. Where's her shit at?"
"In my trunk."
"Go grab that while I put my bike up." He stood and headed toward his truck, looking pitiful. I stopped him when he got close. "Even though you fucked up, I still love you, nigga. Next time, think before you act." He nodded as I grabbed his head, kissed the top of it, and headed toward my bike to put it away and hop in my F-150.
As I pulled the truck out and closed the garage door, Grue met me, slid a suitcase in the back, then came to my window.
"Let Kenzi know I put everything she needs in there."
"I don't plan on talking to her ass. Our last encounter made me want to shut her ass up." I smirked at him.
His face fell even lower. "Ru… You my bro and all, but can you please not fuck my sister?"
I chortled. Not this nigga begging me not to fuck his sister. "If anything, you need to be telling her not to fuck me . In a minute, my guy." I rolled my window up and pulled out of the driveway.
When the elevator opened, I could hear Drake and Nicki Minaj's "Make Me Proud" blasting through the surround sound speakers. I frowned as I slowly made my way toward the open space. I looked around until I spotted Kenzi in the kitchen, rocking one of my dress shirts and making a salad while rapping along to the song.
"... and I love it when ya hair still wet 'cause you just took a shower, running on a treadmill and only eating salad. Sound so smart like you graduated college, like you went to Yale but probably went Howard, knowing you ..."
Kenzi was in her zone, rapping with the pepper shaker while subtly moving that cute little ass. It wasn't until she turned that she noticed me. When I thought she would jump as if I scared her, she only smiled and continued doing her thing. I was sure she saw me on the camera, which I had placed in the corner of the counter.
I walked over to the stereo and shut it off.
"Uh-un, don't come here fucking up my vibe!"
"You're pretty relaxed for someone who went causing problems in my city."
"Boy, please." She waved me off. "I didn't do shit, and if I have to stay holed up in this fancy place, then I need to make the best of it."
"I'm glad you're seeing the light. Here." I handed her the luggage. She rolled her eyes at me and snatched it from my hand. I snatched it back. "Try that shit again." Her lips balled as she took it from me like she had some sense. "Good girl."
"Fu—" She pressed those pretty ass lips together, then grabbed her plate and luggage, moving over to the table. I stared at her until her eyes met mine again.
"What?" she sniped.
"You don't know how to say thank you?"
"I do."
"Then say thank you."
She ignored me as she took a bite of her salad, moaning as if it was the best-tasting salad on earth. I walked over to her, snatched the plate, and headed back toward the kitchen.
"Hey! What are you doing?" I dumped the salad in the sink and turned on the garbage disposal, doing away with her little creation.
"Why would you do that? I am starving, you asshole!"
"You should have thought about that before you decided you wanted to be fucking rude. Now apologize."
"I ain't apologizing for shit! If you had waited a second, I was going to say it, but now I'm not saying shit!" She pushed me.
This was the second woman to put their hands on me today. Did I have a tat on my forehead that said fucking push me?
"Don't put your hands on me, shorty. You can cuss and fuss all the fuck you want, but don't put your hands on me."
As if my words went over Kenzi's head, she pushed me harder in my chest as I grabbed her wrists and twisted them behind her back.
"Ah! Let me go, you bastard!" I opened the kitchen drawer and removed the duct tape. I used my teeth, pulled a piece of it, then wrapped it tightly around her wrists.
"Stop it! Somebody help meee!"
I placed a piece over her mouth, walked her into the living room, and tossed her ass on the couch. She started kicking at me, and I sat on her legs, wrapping some tape around her ankles. I stood and looked down at her, quickly pulling the shirt down because the glimpse I got of her fat pussy and ass was more than I could handle right now. It was a shame I had to do this shit, but she had me fucked up. I didn't play about that hitting shit. I'd endured enough of that from my mean ass mama, so when people put their hands on me, I was easily triggered.
"You're doing all this shit when it could have been simple. You don't have manners, but I promise before you leave here, ya ass gon' learn some."
She mumbled a "Fuck you" as she tried to kick me, but I dodged it.
"You really don't give a fuck about your life, do you, Mona Lisa?" I grabbed her face. "I'm not one of these niggas that you play with. Get that shit out ya system. By the time I return, I want an apology and a thank you." I mushed her head before heading upstairs to shower and change clothes. This girl was going to make me put hands on her... in the best and worst way.