Chapter 17 Emani
“Ssss,” she winced, lip nipped between her teeth. Every inch of her on fire. “Don’t stop.”
“E,” Jahlil groaned in her ear, so deep inside of her she felt as though he was going to split her open in the most delicious way possible. She’d been longing for this moment. For him, and finally, she’d let her inhibitions and worry fall to the wayside to have him again. “Emani.”
“Mmm,” she hummed.
“Emani.”
Another hum, another deep grind.
“Dammit, Emani!” her name being bellowed throughout the space and through the recesses of her mind forced her eyes open. No Jahlil. She was still fully clothed where she drifted off in a drunken stupor. Blurry vision clearing to find Donnée standing over her with a silly grin over her face.
Emani’s eyes shot around the living room and she covered her face in embarrassment. “Was I talking?”
“Mmhmm. You were moaning, too,” Donnée replied, trying to muffle her laughter. “If this is what you do lying next to Malik, I can understand why his ass is looking like Donald Duck all the damn time.”
Emani sat up and huffed. “That’s why this wasn’t a bright idea.”
“Then why are you here? In Jahlil’s clothes?”
“I’m here because I wanted to show Malik I will do what I want when I want and I subsequently walked into some shit I really can’t ignore, or bury, or forget, or pretend. All six foot nine of it is in my face every day.”
“And in your dreams…” Donnée added. “He was here with you last night, question is what you let him do to you.”
“N-nothing,” Emani huffed. “Serious…”
“You let that man touch you on the inside?” Donnée questioned and watched Emani’s face turn red and her teeth nip her lip. “With what?”
“Not his dick, obviously.”
“And why not? End this shit with Malik already,” Donnée huffed. “We do not like the nigga.”
“I’m aware no one likes him. I barely like him. But…I want to be as right as I can be. And I feel like I need to end things face-to-face, not over text or a phone call. We’ve been together for three years. I owe him that much.”
Donnée huffed and shook her head. “You are too good to that man for him to be less than the bare minimum for you. But granted, you’re like that for every man you’re with. Giving them a whole lot of shit that they don’t deserve.”
Emani rolled her eyes. “Why are you here so early?”
“Oh, because we’re having breakfast here. Carson walked in on Ashton playing naked twister on the kitchen counter,” Donnée said with a shrug. “Jahlil has a chef on the way.”
“Why do I have a feeling that my very quiet rental is going to be full of niggas,” Emani muttered as Kyrie walked in and took a seat on the far end of the couch.
“Because it is. Nigga had his ass by the apples. I’m not eating shit out of that kitchen again,” Kyrie shared as the front door opened. “My Granny Smith apples. That’s a crime, and his short ass needs to be arrested.”
“I swear that muhfucka gets on my fucking nerves. Telling me I was trippin’. Ain’t enough liquor in the damn world to get that image of his Lucky Charm’s looking ass out my head,” Carson huffed, strolling in, stopping to kiss Emani on top of the head before taking a seat next to her.
“You staying here too?” Emani questioned.
“Oh we all are. Ashton can have that freak off house. I got limits. The nigga had his dick on a plate,” Carson spoke with a shudder. “Ion think we can be friends anymore.”
Emani fell back in the cushions, laughing. “Ashton doing Ashton shit and y’all are surprised.”
“You know, at some point, the nigga has got to chill. The plates, E, the plates. Too damn far,” Carson huffed. “Anyway, you good? You disappeared.”
“Drunk tacos. I only ate one before I passed out. I can’t hang anymore.”
“You ready for tomorrow? Your mind right?” Carson looked down at her shirt and smirked.
“I’m good. I’m ready. Why are you looking at me like that?”
Carson draped his arm over her shoulder and said, “Because it looks like you’ve made your decision.”
Emani rolled her eyes. “Let me change before the little pint-sized jokester gets here.”
“I’m more interested in knowing how you got in those big ass clothes,” Carson replied with amusement.
“While your ass was in the corner telling women sweet little nothings, I was being held hostage in the deep end. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that. You two like acting like nothing is happening, like we don’t have eyes. I have good vision,” Carson stated.
“You can see anything you want. I see this.” Emani held her ring finger up and pushed herself off the couch.
“Girl, that shit don’t mean shit to none of us. You can buy yourself sixty of those and put that nigga to shame,” Carson said to her back as she started up the stairs. “Leave it up there, too. We don’t want to see that bullshit.”
Emani rolled her eyes and quietly laughed to herself.
She could afford not just sixty of the thoughtless ring on her finger and the tray of rings he presented, but the one she actually wanted.
All the thought did was further solidify her decision.
In her bedroom, she pulled Jahlil’s clothes off and padded to the shower.
The phone lighting up on the countertop as Emani took her jewelry off from the night before, showed a group of texts from Malik.
More videos of her having fun and enjoying her life without being consumed by him.
The pictures of her and Jahlil closer than he’d like.
All nonsense and she was going to save herself from the headache today.
As she removed the ring from her finger, she picked up the phone and blocked him.
After all, he was on vacation with his mother.
Every year before, he left her alone, forgetting she existed until he came home.
Him and his fragile ego could sit on ice until she got home in a few days.
Then, she would end this farce and move on with her life.
Showering and dressing in a lounge set, she roamed downstairs, finding the chef hard at work making breakfast and unison groan coming from the living room.
“Man, get your ass out here with that bullshit. You know what kind of sick nigga you got to be to put your ass by some apples?” Kyrie screeched.
“I swear I’m never going to be the same,” Jahlil added. “I love apples and you were passed out on the counter by all the fresh fruit.”
“First of all, I said I was sorry. It was that damn ‘69 Cognac. No wonder you kept pouring it down Emani’s throat, no one can remember shit off that,” Ashton defended as he spotted Emani and hurried to her. “Are you okay? Are you a victim of the liquor too?”
Ashton placed his hand on her forehead, face, neck and chest.
“That’s enough, nigga,” Jahlil rumbled, grabbing Ashton by the back of the collar from his seated position and pulled him back like a rag doll.
Emani was in the process of swatting his hand away from her before Jahlil stepped in. “I’ve heard about where your hands were, please don’t put them on me.”
“Told him about that shit,” Jahlil grumbled, as Emani swiped the back of his head.
“And you, relax,” she shot back, taking her seat back by Carson. “I love y’all deeply but all y’all aren’t staying here.”
“We got a hotel,” Donnée spoke up. “I can be loud.”
The group groaned and huffed.
“I can make you louder,” Ashton played, earning a launched pillow from Kyrie. “I’m playing! I’m playing!”
“You play too damn much,” Carson shot over his shoulder. “Donnée, what’s the schedule?”
“Pick up game at noon. Please stretch, I will not be rubbing any knots out of asses. Emani has one last sound check before the concert tomorrow. Outside of that, we chilling.”
True to their program, they ate, joked, and then went their separate ways to get ready. Emani was perched in the makeup chair as Derrick put another wig on and Donnée sat nearby, scrolling through emails.
“The label is asking about the album,” she spoke over Derrick’s humming. “What do you want me to tell them?”
“Same thing I’ve been telling them. The sound isn’t right. When the sound is right, they’ll have it. I’m not understanding what’s the rush?” Emani buzzed.
“The rush is your man went on live late last night talking about how he was going to sit you down after the wedding. There may or may not have been a burner account predicting that there wouldn’t be a wedding,” Derrick chimed.
“I’ve been blocked but no worries, I have a few back up pages.
Does he have a nephew or something? Like around three? ”
Emani slightly squinted. “No, his nieces and nephews are five, six, and seven. Why?”
Donnée’s brows furrowed as she did a deep dive into Malik’s social media to find the live. It’d been erased from his page but that didn’t mean his fans or one of the blogs didn’t have it. Without uttering another word, she stood and roamed out of the room.
Derrick continued, wanting to tell Emani that something wasn’t right but didn’t want to send her into a spiral.
He’d witnessed the hiccups between the two over the years and he knew how Malik’s ranting could pick away at her mood.
“There was a little boy somewhere in the background. He ended it abruptly. I just figured he took the whole family out there with him. Like normal. Leaving you behind for whatever reason.”
“Oddly enough, this is the first year I’m okay with being left behind.”
Derrick smirked as he wrapped a curl around his finger to pin it. “That’s because you got big daddy here. This pick-up game is the first time you’ve seen him play since college?”
“Actually, yeah. Outside of that one game he who shall not be named took me to. Put me up in the box in the corner,” Emani said, recalling that night completely.
A busted lip and a black eye were gracefully given to her before the car pulled into the parking garage.
Tyriq Styles was a monster, and she could only pray someone would give him the same energy he’d given so many women.
“Mm,” Derrick buzzed. “Let me make sure you look just like the courtside baddie you are. I’m thinking that pleated skirt, tube top, college cardigan with your 1’s.”
“That’ll work,” Emani replied, reaching for her phone to find what Donnée was in the hallway looking for too. A text to Carson would handle it.
E: can you find out whose with Malik in Eastover?
Carson: I could. If it’s some fuck shit, are you staying or leaving?
E: if it’s some fuck shit, I’m out
Carson: aight just making sure. I’d rather give you away once to a nigga that actually deserves you. If not, I’m keeping you for myself
E: you’re not going to do nothing with me. Just feed me and talk shit
Carson: you’ll be the only woman in history who’d let her husband do what he wants. But you’ll look good on my taxes though
E: get off my line man
Whatever Malik was or wasn’t up to, Emani wasn’t going to worry about right now.
Without him on her brain, she’d felt like she was living again.
Dressed, photos of her outfit, hair and makeup uploaded to her various social media accounts, Emani was out the door with her friends with her ring and phone behind.
Courtside, she watched Jahlil play the game he loved up close and personal. She could see why the Los Oceania Hawks were willing to pay him so much. It was like a drop in the bucket while Malik was going back and forth with the front office every season about his money. Night and day.
Emani sat with her legs crossed trying to calm the intrusive thoughts and the muscle recall that sparked between them the night before.
Every swish of the net, directive to his team, made up of other celebrity athletes, made focusing on the actual game hard as hell.
At this rate, this pick-up game was going to go well into the night.
Two back-to-back games ending in a favorable outcome for Jahlil, Noble, Tyris, Gino, and Dakari.
While the other teams played for the bracket spots, Emani sat on a bench and people-watched in peace after taking a hundred selfies and signing autographs.
Jahlil strolled over and took a seat next to her. “You know, I used to dream of the day you were sitting courtside watching me.”
Emani gave him a small smile. “You know you’re not half bad. I see you remembered everything I taught you.”
“Yeah, controlling the tempo of the game has taken me a long way,” he replied, looking down at her. “You look good.”
“I always do.”
“You’re right. But you look like you’re not weighted. What’s that about?”
“The ring and that phone are at the house. I’m trying to just stay in the moment.”
Jahlil lifted her left hand up and examined it. “I like it like that. Until I put mine on it.”
“Jahlil, don’t come over here talking your shit to me.”
“I’m being for real. Watch.”
Emani rolled her eyes. “Anyway, how’s your daughter? Ready for you to come back home?”
“Yeah, kind of. I talked to her this morning and she claims I cannot come back without you.”
“Why does your daughter know who I am?”
“Because I’m a bad influence,” he said with laughter. “Rapping and cursing, cursing and rapping and she’s probably your youngest and biggest fan.”
Emani covered her face. “That is embarrassing.”
Jahlil laughed moving her hands from her face and back in his possession. “Don’t be embarrassed now. You’re the one who said ‘I’m a pretty chick, on that homie, lover, friend shit. That gutter chick, on that knock a bitch head off shit.’”
“I did and I didn’t lie.”
“Nah, you only lie when you’re trying to hide your feelings,” Jahlil stated, sitting back, her hand still in his hold. “You see where we’re sitting.”
Emani looked up, around and back at him. “Ah hell, let me get up.”
Jahlil laughed. “I meant it then and I mean it now. You’ll see. Keep your eyes on me when I move that nigga out my way to get what’s mine.”
“A reminder of what my pussy feels like and you talkin’ tough.”
Jahlil kissed his teeth. “Come on, E. You know better. The only one needing a reminder here is you.”
She gulped and groaned. “We have eyes on us.”
“Fuck them cameras. Let that nigga punch the air. You were mine years ago when I told you that right here the first time. You mine right now.”
“You get on my nerves so damn bad.”
“I know. I hope you enjoyed your break from me.”
“Hated it actually,” she muttered.
“I did too.”