Chapter 10
Showing My Wife the Family Business
Double
I spent a lot of time with my grandfather while I was growing up.
Because of that, a lot of my ways mirrored his.
He was more of a listener than a talker.
I was the same. When people presented him with problems, he presented them with solutions.
I was solution-oriented as well. Big Hill was my idol, growing up, and I wanted to be just like him.
Anything he did, I was like a shadow on his ass.
As I aged, I realized that my grandfather was merely a man with shortcomings and flaws like any other man.
He was moving through life, learning as he went—just like everybody else.
While that knowledge made me put my youthful hero-worship of him in perspective, it didn’t diminish my respect and/or admiration of him.
There were still ways that I emulated him—his loyalty, his calm demeanor, his gentlemanly ways when it came to women, and his style of dress.
Big Hill always believed in looking the part.
He couldn’t relate to the current fashion trend of being perpetually casual.
He favored suits, and so did I. So, as I watched Tinsley descend the stairs toward me on Monday morning, her thick-ass, café au lait-colored thigh visible from the split in her skirt, I adjusted the sleeve of my suit jacket.
My eyes never left her as I took in the chocolate-brown plaid skirt, the brown turtleneck that clung to her sizable breasts, and the item I most looked forward to viewing since Saturday—her sparkly blue wedding ring. She matched my fly, and I liked that.
I didn’t think she was wearing makeup, because every one of her numerous freckles was visible. I liked her freckles. They were unique and gorgeous. If she ever gave me daughters, I wanted every single one of them to be a replica of their beautiful mother.
Too far, bro, the voice inside my head told me.
Tinsley gave me a smile. That was when I noticed that her full lips were slathered in shiny gloss. “Good morning.” She stopped before she got to the bottom step. “You must be the boss, boss. You’re wearing a suit.”
“Good morning.” I met her at the stairs, taking her hand and leading her down to the landing. “I always wear a suit to work. You gotta look the part.”
“And that, you do.” She gave me an appraising look, her eyes as bright as the smile on her face.
“Thanks.” I lightly kissed her on the forehead. “You ready, brown-eyed girl?”
“Almost.”
We both moved over to the shoe rack and selected our footwear for the day.
Oxfords were my shoe of choice in gray with black laces and piping to match the gray suit I wore.
Once my shoes were on, I watched from the corner of my eye as Tinsley eased the chestnut suede of her thigh-high boots up her leg.
I felt my dick stir. I was proud of myself for how I’d managed to keep my hands to myself with her, when all I wanted to do was feel her suppleness beneath me.
It had only been a week, but I was ready to consummate the marriage.
She was a virgin, though, so I already understood that I was going to have to remain patient.
Once we were in my truck, it was a task for me to keep my eyes off her exposed thigh and on the road ahead of me.
She giggled when she caught me looking. “I take it that you’re a leg man, Double.”
I chuckled. “Maybe. I might just be a skin man, and yours looks soft as hell. All I really wanna do is reach over and touch it.” I hadn’t planned on saying that, but once it was out of my mouth, I wasn’t about to take it back.
She was quiet for a few minutes before she softly said, “Okay.”
I didn’t hesitate. I eased my right hand off the wheel and onto her supple thigh. Just like I knew it would, my hand practically melted into the softness. “Yeah,” I muttered, losing the battle to keep my smirk to myself.
She had tensed a little at the initial contact, but I heard her slowly exhale and release the tension. I let my hand continue to rest there as we drove.
“On Mondays, I do what I like to think of as rounds. Kinda like what a doctor would do—checking up on all his patients. My family owns a lot of businesses in the city. I mean, my family has the foundation Passion’s Project.
My dad owns a chain of car shops. My mom owns a full-service salon; plus, she owns three locations of salon suites.
Journey co-owns a medical space with her best friend, Anastasia, and our cousin, Royalty.
Me and Justus own a property management company.
Lucky runs a security firm. Got two cousins who run a martial arts dojo.
And Big Hill owns the four-block stretch of Graystone Avenue where all of our businesses are located. ”
“Your family is entrepreneurial like my family.”
I nodded.
“Just not wicked like my family,” she mumbled.
“My family is fiercely loyal to family,” I conceded.
I could feel her gaze bore into the side of my face. “As they should be.” She took a beat. “Where are we starting today?”
“The dojo.”
For more than two decades, Big Hill owned a lounge off of 87th Street called Classified.
It was a discreet but popular place frequented by loyal clientele and locals in the know.
Around the time my siblings and I were moving into our tween years, Big Hill noticed that every business around the lounge had either been abandoned or was becoming decrepit from neglect.
Graystone Avenue was no longer the viable block it had once been.
He was no longer inclined to leave his suburban home at night to travel to the city to run a lounge that he believed was past its prime and usefulness.
He was all set to sell the building containing the lounge, along with the two connecting buildings he owned, to a developer.
When he found out that the developer intended to build a super-sized liquor store, Big Hill decided that the last thing the South Side needed was another liquor store.
For a four-block stretch, he bought his neighbors out. One by one, he collected buildings that he held onto for years. When my siblings, my cousins, and I came of age, we were able to use those buildings to open our own businesses.
The former Classified lounge had become the dojo. It was run by two of my cousins, L.P. and his sister Charity. Their father, Nasir Payne, was my mother’s first cousin.
I parked the truck, walked around to the passenger side, and helped Tinsley out of the truck.
She was so fucking pretty with her freckles on display, her lip gloss popping, and her hair slicked up into a neat bun.
It made her look like she was on her business.
She didn’t know that I didn’t like anything more than I liked unraveling a buttoned-up woman.
I wanted to unloosen that bun and watch her hair cascade around her face while she took my dick down her throat.
I was clearly horny. I needed to fuck up on something, but I was determined to be a faithful husband. I wouldn’t stick my dick anywhere it didn’t belong just to get off my need for some pussy.
I held her hand as we walked into the building that housed the dojo.
I heard the small inhale Tinsley did when we entered the lobby.
I couldn’t say that I blamed her. LP and Charity had gone out of their way to make the Payne Killer Martial Arts Studio the classiest dojo on the South Side.
I watched as Tinsley took in the minimalistic space with its warm wooden flooring, neutral-colored rug, upholstered walls, lantern-like light fixtures, and the bonsai and lucky bamboo trees.
The seating was simple wooden benches covered with off-white cushions.
All of the furniture was made of wood, including the waist-high desk that Charity stood behind.
“Cousin,” Charity chirped as Tinsley and I crossed the room toward her.
She came from behind the desk just as I reached it and gave me a hug. “What’s good, girl?”
“Not much.” She eyed Tinsley.
“This is my wife, Tinsley.”
“Hey.” Tinsley gave her a shy wave.
“Hey.” Charity gave her a big smile, her dimples displaying themselves to us.
“I was hoping I would get to meet you.” She pulled Tinsley into a quick hug.
“Lyric’s been rubbing it in that she was the first one to meet you.
” She took in Tinsley’s outfit. “Cute outfit. If there’s one thing my sister can do, it’s dress her ass off. ”
That comment seemed to break Tinsley’s tension because she chuckled. “No lies told,” she said with a giggle. “This wasn’t necessarily my style before, but it’s definitely my style now.”
“It looks good on you. Plus, you’re matching Double’s fly. He likes to wear suits and stuff, so it’s good that you’re a fashion girly. What brings y’all by? I know you’re not enrolling your girl in classes.”
“Nah. Not today.”
“You teach adult classes?” Tinsley questioned.
Charity nodded. “We do. Most of our daytime classes are for adults. The afternoons, once school lets out, it’s mostly kids. But we do offer a few evening classes for adults.”
“What classes do you offer? Like Karate?”
“We offer Karate, Judo, Jiu-Jitsu, some styles of Kung Fu, Taekwondo, and Aikido. For women, though, when it comes to self-defense? We like to train them in Krav Maga.”
“Krag Mava? Never heard of it.”
Both Charity and I snickered. “Krav Maga,” Charity repeated slowly. “It’s an Israeli self-defense system.”
Tinsley nodded.
I glanced down at my watch. “I’m taking her around to see everything and meet everybody. Y’all were the first stop. C’mon. Let’s give her the tour. She’ll probably end up here at some point.”
“Probably,” Charity agreed before turning on her heel and leading us toward the hallway.
“You think I’ll end up here taking self-defense classes?” Tinsley asked, looking up at me. Her caramel brown eyes were going to be what undid me.
Those eyes and those thighs. Shit. This girl had me spitting bars.
Rhyming without even trying. “Yeah. You’re my wife.
There’s no way I’mma have you out here unable to defend yourself.
I’mma schedule you a few lessons with Charity, have her start working with you on the basics. Then, I’ll pick it up from there.”
“You’re gonna give me self-defense lessons?”
Charity turned her head. “He never told you that he was a self-defense prodigy?”
“You’re talking too much, Charity.”
She waved me off. “Whatever. It’s true.”
I looked down at Tinsley. “My aunt—well actually, she’s my cousin.
She’s Charity’s mom. I call her my aunt out of respect because of the age difference and everything.
Anyway, when we were shorties, it was important to her that we know how to defend ourselves. She was . . . proficient in Krav Maga.”
“Before she met my dad, she dated a professional basketball player who liked to put his hands on her. She learned self-defense as a way to get him to stop,” Charity explained. “That’s why it was important to her that we all know how to encourage people to keep their hands to themselves.”
Tinsley’s mouth formed a silent “O” as she nodded her understanding.
“As soon as she put me on, I just took to it,” I said. “I don’t know. Something about it agreed with me.”
“The sensei my mother took us to said he’d never had a student take to Krav Maga more quickly, or with more . . . vigor than Double.” She gave a giggle. “He moved up the ranks so fast. The rest of us were still on yellow, and this dude was already on blue.”
Tinsley looked up at me. “What does that mean? Is yellow for beginners?”
“Yeah, the first belt is yellow. I was like three levels ahead of them.”
“Within the first month, Tinsley. Your man was a self-defense beast. He was competing against kids twice his age. He’s the reason Big Hill turned the lounge into a dojo in the first place. Double ran it for the first ten years.”
“Me and LP ran it.”
“True,” she conceded.
“Why’d you stop running it?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “The passion for it lessened. I still enjoyed it, but I wanted to see what else I might enjoy.”
Charity led us to the Krav Maga studio first. As soon as we stepped into the room, I felt my nervous system relax.
The room was semi-sparse because you needed space to do the techniques properly.
The walls were painted a cream color, the floor featured large, gray tiles, and every piece of equipment and every accessory was black.
Tinsley immediately headed for the hanging punching bags.
I followed her, shaking my head because I didn’t get what it was about women and punching bags.
Every woman—whether she was a potential client, a family member, or a girlfriend—I’d ever brought into the Krav Maga room headed straight for the bags.
Tinsley gave it a very weak punch that would’ve been comical if it wasn’t so concerning.
“Oh, no,” Charity said with a shake of her head. “You really can’t fight at all, huh?”
“I don’t know.” Tinsley hit it again the tiniest bit harder, though she seemed to be using all of her power. “Umph!”
Both Charity and I lost the fight of holding back our laughter.
“I’ve never had to try,” she admitted.
“I think she should start class next week.” Charity looked at me.
I gave a slight nod. “Yeah, we’ll get something on the books for her.”
After we toured the facility, Charity led us back to the lobby. She gave both of us a tight hug. “I like her for you, Double.”
Shit, I liked her for me, too. But there was the fact that we were only together because her back was against the wall. When the threat of the Iredian official no longer existed, would she look at all of her options and still choose life with me?