Chapter Fourteen- Buddha
Here comes the boom, here comes the boom, here comes the boom
Here comes boom, boomin’ bouncin’, stalkin’, walkin’
Walk with the bouncin’. Hit em where it counts, man
Hit em like a mountain.
The words to DMX’s song blasted hard as fuck through the speakers of my Bugatti. I already knew what bar I was going to; the person I was about to fuck up was already there. Alessandro, who I had on the case, called and let me know exactly where the person could be located.
I found a park and lifted the suicide door on the driver’s side and got out. Dipping inside my pockets, I took out the pair of brass spiked knuckles and secured them around my fingers. I left my music running as I closed the door to my car and walked toward the entrance of the bar.
The music was low, and I could tell, just by looking around, this bar wasn’t about to win an award for cleanliness.
I stood tall with my chest out, scanning the patrons, searching for one face in particular.
We saw one another at the same time. Lewis sat around the bar on a stool, chatting it up with some poor, unsuspecting female.
I knew, judging from the look on my face, that mothafucka knew I was out for blood. Just like the pussy he was Lewis sprang from the stool fast as fuck and began running in the next direction. Spotting an empty stool at my disposal, I picked it up and threw it at him.
Thankfully, the other patrons knew to duck so they wouldn’t get hit in the process. Lewis hollered as the stool connected with his back, and he fell to the floor. With long, easy strides, I made my way to where he fell and snatched him up by his shirt collar.
“Come here, let me talk to you outside,” I told him, as I dragged his ass like a ragdoll by his shirt toward the bar’s entrance. Curious onlookers left their seats and followed us as I took Lewis to the parking lot.
I shoved him away from me and waited as he scrambled to his feet. “You wanna hit somebody? Hit me,” I said, thumping my chest, as I eyed him in anger. “Come on, hit me,” I said, pointing at him, the brass spiked knuckles shining around my fingers.
“I don’t want any trouble, Mr. Phillipe. I’ll call Dior and apologize,” Lewis said, lifting his hands in defeat.
“Nah, Lewis…hit me,” I said, charging toward him as I made a fist and connected the spikes with his face.
“Aaahhh, fuckkkk!” Lewis screamed, holding his busted lip. I stood back as he spit out a couple of cracked teeth.
“Come on, Lewis, hit me. Or is it that you prefer hitting my wife?” This time, instead of one punch, I landed two. One to the left side of his face, the other to the right. Lewis almost fell backward, but he caught his composure.
“Dior hit me first. Did she tell you that?” Lewis's muffled words came from behind his hands that covered his bleeding mouth. I paused just as I made another fist.
“She hit you first?”
“Yes, she hit my first. It was just my reflexes when I hit her back, I swear to you. I didn’t mean it,” Lewis said before he spit on the ground again. I got a thoughtful expression on my face as I thought about what he had just said.
“Why Lewis?”
“Why what?”
‘Why did she hit you first? What did you do or say to her?” I asked him. I could see the look on his face become worried.
“I can’t remember,” Lewis replied, and I smiled because I knew he was lying. He just didn’t want to repeat what he'd said to Dior, which made her slap the taste out of his mouth.
“I know you're fucking lying. I don’t particularly like liars.” With those words, I aimed for his stomach this time and punched him in his ribs and then close to where his kidneys were located. The moment Lewis doubled over with pain, I wasted no time in placing him in a headlock.
One hand squeezed his neck, while my other hand kept connecting the spiked knuckles into his face.
“Aye yo my man, I heard the bartender say he was calling the police,” someone said to me. It was probably for the best anyway because Lewis was barely conscious. I released him from the headlock, and he fell to a crumpled heap on the floor like old paper.
Bending to him, I held him up and slapped his face, making him open his eyes to watch me.
“Listen very carefully. If you so much as talk to Dior or come near her again, I won’t be so nice the next time.
The only reason I’m keeping you alive is because of Chanel.
Do you understand me?” I asked him. Groaning loudly, Lewis nodded his head as though he had no control of his actions.
“Another thing you got one day and one day only to pack your shit and move the fuck outta the house. When I pull up to check if you’re gone and if you’re still there…
” I took my gun out of my waist and held it under his chin.
“I’ll use this and shoot you in both kneecaps.
Don’t fucking play with me, mothafucka.”
I released him, and he crumpled to the ground in a bloody mess.
Not being able to help myself because this man really was a fucking lowlife, I lifted my right leg and kicked him in his ribs.
Lifting my shirt, I placed the gun back in my waist as I made my way to my car.
About thirteen people were standing around staring at the commotion as I lifted my door to leave.
Chump nigga, I’ll stomp a mudhole in your face
Mothafucka, I’ll rip your butt hole outta place
Cock the glock to yo’ head, let off about two in it
Yeah, it’s a dirty job, but I just love doin’ it
DMX’s song played on repeat, blasting through my speakers as I got behind the wheel.
Removing the brass, spiked knuckles from my fingers.
I placed them on the passenger seat. I looked at where I’d left Lewis lying on the ground.
A couple of people were talking to him, even though he was clearly unconscious.
My job here was done. I pulled out of the parking lot to make my way to the hospital to go see my wife.
*****
“Where are you?” I asked my mother over my cellphone as I stepped out of the elevator.
“I just stepped out to use the restroom. One of the nurses will show you to her room.” I hung up the phone with my mother as I walked over to the nurse’s station. A nurse who looked to be in her early thirties looked at me and began batting her long lash extensions.
“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling seductively at me.
“Yeah, I’m here to see my wife, Dior Ricci. What room is she in?”
Another nurse who just walked up to the desk heard what I asked and smiled at me.
“Hi, I’m Dior’s nurse; you must be the lucky daddy,” she said, stretching her hand out at me. I lifted both my eyebrows at her, because who the fuck was she calling daddy?
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, shaking her hand, waiting for her to clarify why she was calling me daddy. I started wondering if she had some sort of fetish, calling strange men daddy.
“Dior’s baby is fine; the fall she had and the bleeding that came after the fall are totally normal.
I checked the baby’s heartbeat, and everything is perfect.
Let me show you to her room.” The nurse was talking so damn much as she grabbed my elbow, leading me to where Dior was.
I was legit confused because it sounded as though Dior was pregnant. Or maybe I was mistaken.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up. Congratulations, Daddy.
” The nurse once again called me "daddy" as she left.
I was confused as a mothafucka as I stood at the entrance of the hospital room.
Dior was sound asleep as I stared at her.
She was hooked up to an IV and nothing more; she breathed calmly as she slept.
As I walked closer to her bed, I heard a couple of quiet snores and smiled.
I looked down at her stomach and wondered if a baby was really growing in there.
Bending, I placed a kiss in the middle of her forehead.
My mouth twitched in irritation as I watched her bruised lip.
She moaned softly and slowly opened her eyes.
I smiled because I missed the fuck outta her, I placed my lips gently against hers and kissed her.
“When did you get here?” she asked, caressing my cheek before she smiled at me.
“Just now, your nurse walked me over,” I told her, reaching for her hand, my other hand playing with her hairline at her forehead.
“Did she tell you anything?” Dior asked softly, almost as though she was worried.
“I’d rather you tell me,” I said, waiting for her to confirm or deny what the nurse had just said.
Looking away from me for a brief second, Dior sighed softly. “I wanted to wait for you to come back before I told you that…”
“For you to tell me what?” I coaxed her, holding my breath.
“That you’re going to be a father. I found out I was pregnant two weeks ago.
There was so much going on with the family, I just felt like there would never be a right time to tell you.
I’m sorry; I know we never even spoke much about having children.
This was such a shock.” Dior was rambling on and on, and I thought it was cute.
“You thought getting pregnant was a shock? With all the raw fucking we did,” I said with a smirk, knowing exactly when she had gotten pregnant, I remembered that night vividly.
I literally fucked Dior all night, every time she fell asleep, I woke her up again with my dick.
I also recall she was ovulating by her feminine scent and the texture of her wetness.
Was I planning to get her pregnant? I really wasn’t, but I’m a grown man; I knew the possibilities.
“So you’re not upset?” Dior’s question caused a deep frown on my face.
“Upset, baby, why would I be upset? You’re my wife, and I’m your husband. That’s what married people do: they have sex and make babies. We’re about to have the most beautiful baby in the whole world,” I said, smiling, as I kissed her over and over.
“You know, Sofia told me once that you’d make a great father one day; she was right, you know. I think you’re going to be an excellent daddy.” I smiled at what she said, and then remembered that Sofia was here earlier.