Chapter 5
Is absolutely everyone in this family blind, or am I just seeing things?
That little woman is out of her mind.
I don't tend to want to get into anybody's business. To be fair, I want everyone's business to stay their own, and I only want to be involved when necessary.
Is that too much to ask?
Do I not have enough on my plate?
I have to figure out how I'm going to manage being able to see my daughter while being in a completely different state. It's not that far apart, but it's far enough to where I'm no longer able to just drive the twenty minutes to go to my old house.
Redd sits across from me with an amused look on his face. “Right. So we're back to you suspectin’ Nina of what, exactly?"
"Look, I get that you think it sounds ridiculous because everyone has this idea that she's just this…” I struggle to remove my accurate perception of Nina and see her for the way she wants everyone to see her.
“This pink little princess thing, but she's close to Racquelle—that at least should give me some merit that she's got the inclination or capacity to do some damage around here. "
"Right, right, right. Yea. No, I can one hundred percent see that bein’ the case, and I'm not sayin’ that she's never offed anybody.
I'm also not sayin’ that she is completely innocent, but the fact that you're sayin’ she's like some serial killer or somethin’ is kind of bizarre. " He says with his hands up.
"Bizarre? It's bizarre?" I ask. “In what way is it? Why would Racquelle have her close if she didn't present herself as bein’ more valuable?" Nina said it herself. What is more valuable in this life than a secret weapon?
"Well, right. I mean, her and Racquelle seem to get along just fine."
I scoff, not truly agreeing with his downplay of how much the two of them are connected.
It’s not only a friendship. How deep it goes is unknown, but also unimportant to me at present.
“Don't care if they're friends or not. Don't care if they're braidin’ each other’s hair and puttin’ on masks or whatever the fuck women do. I need to know that you're takin’ my concerns seriously." Unlike others, I respect the rules and hierarchy of this family. Until I get the say so to go after Nina with the full support of those above me, I’m stuck gathering evidence to say it’s a necessary concern. I don’t have enough of anything concrete to do that yet.
“Told you I was takin’ them seriously the last time you brought them up.” He sighs in exasperation and I try not to be annoyed by it. “But we have shit that’s way more pressin’ than whether or not you're obsessed with Racquelle's little sidekick."
What the— "Obsessed?" I balk. "No one said anythin’ about being fuckin’ obsessed. Just asked you a question."
"You've been askin’ me a question,” he laughs and it's definitely at my expense. “It’s not really what you're askin’ but how you're doin’ it."
My brows pinch together on my forehead, as I try to recall the previous times I’ve brought this up to Redd. “And how is that?"
He gestures to me. "I mean, you look like... I mean, do you know how you look?"
"No, I don't know how I look,” I grumble, brows furrowing more. “You pissin’ me off, for real.”
He laughs again but doesn’t elaborate, instead changing the subject to one that I’ve been avoiding. “Well, I asked you about three weeks ago if I could take Gracie to the zoo with me and Lav. You said you talked to Marissa about it…”
Sitting up a little taller, I say, “And I did… She said no."
“The fuck, bruh? Man up and tell her I want to hang out with my little buddy. She don’t even have to do anything. In this economy, she can’t turn down a free babysitter.”
Marissa and I are amicable, but I respect her decisions when it comes to my daughter.
She knows too much and if pushed could do damage to, not only my reputation but, Dupont as well.
Her allowing Redd to see Gracie in the first place only came after her own acceptance of the situation.
It’s that fire that drew me to her, but now I see how fierce and determined she can be when it comes to our daughter.
I’m not butting against that for another man.
“Yea, I'm not gonna tell my baby mama to do anythin’, you understand? "
"No," he says, shaking his head. “I’m not even a problem. She's trippin’.”
It's then that my phone rings, and, as unusual as it is for just about anyone else in Dupont, I actually keep my ringer on so I know when I'm getting a call. It could very well be my baby moms, or it could be my daughter wanting to talk. I'm never going to cut off access to her if I don't have to.
Despite what this life will give you, I still am hoping to strive for normalcy for my daughter, which is why I want to keep the relationship with her mother as amicable as possible.
She wants for nothing, needs nothing, because I provide for her.
Do I live in the home with Gracie?
No.
Do I visit her at every opportunity I can?
Hell, fucking yea. I’m at the crib whenever I’m not working on something.
And that's why going to Georgia is tearing me up a little inside, but I can't help that.
This is the job.
This is the life I signed up for, and I'm going to make as much lemonade as I can with the lemons I've been dealt.
The phone buzzes in my hand. I don't recognize the number on the receiver, but I pick it up anyway. Anyone bold enough to call me is bold enough to get an answer.
“Yea,” I say into the line.
At first, all I hear is a little bit of heavy breathing.
"Who the fuck is this?" I question.
"What are you wearing?" a feminine voice asks. It takes me a second to register whose voice it belongs to. I don't think I've ever heard it sound this way.
"What the fuck? What do you want?"
More panting, “Tell me what you're wearing. I'm really close."
Pulling the phone from my ear, I check the number again. I save it quickly. I don’t want any more surprise calls from the likes of her. “Close to what? The fuck are you doin’? Stop playin’ on my phone."
There’s a sharp inhale, then, “Oh, I'm playin’, but it's not with—it's not on your phone,” she giggles breathlessly.
I pause at the whiny quality of her voice.
Is she?
I know she didn't just call me while she's...
I immediately stand up and excuse myself from the table with Redd. He gives me a look, but I just wave him off as I head off to the nearest hallway.
Enunciating every word, I ask, “The fuck do you think you're doin’? I was in a meetin’.”
A hollow tinging sound that I can hear her tongue ring making over her teeth. “You're such a tease, you know that?"
"Me? Why are you callin’ me like this? What the fuck do you—"
"You know how wet you make me? Just one time, please. That's all I need. And then we'll be able to work together amicably, and you can stop pretending like you don't want to know what I feel like."
“Ha,” I can’t believe the nerve of this brat. “I—even if that were true, this is not the way to go about it."
Why did I say that?
Fuck.
I shouldn’t be encouraging her.
"But I'm bored, and I have nothing to do. And I thought about how strong your arms look, even through your hoodies. It's kind of insane,” she hums for a moment and then there’s a pause. “It's your workout routine. Tell me about what makes you all sweaty…”
"Nah. Not doin’ that. I need you to get off my phone. Go find someone else to play around with.”
"But I don't want to call someone else. I want to call you. I love how your voice sounds when you're getting all flustered and annoyed."
“Not flustered, but I am fucking annoyed." Why am I still entertaining this call?
She pants some more. “I know. I can tell. Tell me to stop, and I will."
"I want you to hang up the phone."
"But you don't want me to stop touching myself to the thought of you."
"You ever heard of professionalism?"
"Me? But I'm not a professional. I'm just a girl." Her words trail off to just a whisper by the end of her statement.
“So you’ve said. You're a grown woman, and you know it."
"But I'm just a girl," she sing-songs. It's breathy and long as I can hear a hint of what I imagine is her wetness.
"Fingers or toys?”
“Oh,” her breath hitches. “I should have brought toys. It's just my fingers. Listen, can you hear—" There's only a little bit of shifting before I can hear very clearly how wet she truly is.
I'm almost tempted to give in to what she's forced on me, especially when my pants tighten. "Nah. Don't wanna hear. Get off my phone, Nina."
"Oh, I like when you say my name like that.” She pants a little harder. The whine in her voice is almost too much to resist. “Say it again, please...”
"No," I say, firm but still I’m holding the phone to my ear.
She stops panting, the rustling coming to a halt. I think that she’s done with—whatever this is—then she asks, “Do you want me to video call so you can see?" Too much mischief dripping from her voice.
"No. I'm in public.” I look around, making sure no one is coming down this hallway when the warehouse we work out of is always busy. I’m grateful that no one is a witness to the half chub I’m certain could become a problem if I let it.
Just like Nina. I don’t bother adjusting right now because I don’t know if my dick will care that it’s not encouragement to continue bricking up.
“How are we supposed to work together when you're doin’ this? "
"I think it would be a lot easier to work together if you just relaxed a little bit. Let some of that stress go…”
“Not stressed,” I correct.
"You don't have to lie to me." Her playing has picked up again. This time faster before she asks, "You know what I like?”
"No, I don't," I answer, though I really shouldn't. But for whatever reason, I haven't hung up the phone on her, and I'm still on the line.
"I really like my nipples played with. They get so sensitive.
I could probably come just from that alone.
Oh my god, I'd love to feel your fucking sharp tongue on my—“ A long exhale before she breathes a little faster.
Her words were too quick. She is relentless.
“On my nipple, teasing all around with your tongue.
I should get them pierced. Oh, if I get them pierced, then you could play with them, couldn't you?
Would you? Would you play with my little titties? "
The thought of her pert little tits with pretty pink barbells through them assaults my mind, and I'm standing here in this hallway like an asshole with my dick half-hard, listening to her moan into the phone… for me.
"Vert?" she questions on the line, probably thinking that I have hung up on her.
Why haven’t I? "And what else?”
“I’d pierce anything you want. Should I get a lip piercing?
My tongue didn't hurt too bad, so I imagine everything else would be—” Nina pauses and then asks.
“You want to feel my tongue ring catching on the edge of your—” It’s clear that her next words are going to be different from the rest. “Even if it is small, I'm sure my ring would still feel good across the tip, sliding in just a little bit into the slit and coming out. That's a lot of fun for me too—”
“Nina."
"Oh, don't be shy. I know you think about it. I've seen you watching me. You like the way it rolls around my lips. It feels just as good around yours, promise you that.”
She’s trying her best to tempt me but after she accused me of being small… “Don't want that at all, because you and I both know there's somethin’ I'm more interested in."
"My ass? Ooo,” she coos, back to panting. “I haven't had my ass played with in a long time. You could play with it if you want."
"Nah, Nina. I care about the fuckin’ bodies I know you’re sitting’ on.”
“There hasn't been that many before you. Don't worry, it's still tight, you know."
"That's..." I grumble and shift ears that I'm holding my phone to. “Don't want to play these fuckin’ games with you, Nina. Want you to figure your shit out. Don't want to have to be the one to fuckin’ tell your Queen about what you've really been doin’. We've got much bigger fish to fry."
"So you don't want me to stop touching myself, though?”
Fucking brat.
"Goodbye, Nina." I hang up the phone and put it back into my pocket, going to the desk I was just sitting at with Redd.
"What's up?" he says.
I wipe at the back of my neck that's started to sweat from memories of the phone conversation and say, “Nothing, just had to take that real quick.”
Back to the search.