Chapter 2
Two
The hustle, bustle, and intrusiveness of the airport was uncomfortable and unnecessary. Invasive and too fucking time-consuming to say the least. Those reasons amongst others were why I avoided the catastrophe at all cost. However, the occasion at hand was well worth the hassle and discomfort.
Stepping out of Channing International, I shielded the sun with the brim of the hat that I pulled onto my head. Home . It didn’t matter what city I resided or what country I vacationed in for months at a time, Channing would always be home for me. It held my heart captive, no matter the distance between us. Though I hadn’t gotten to visit as often as I wanted in the last eight years of my life, that shit was about to change.
The red beamer with the obnoxious music and plates that read CASH was impossible to miss. So was the weed smoke trailing from the driver’s window. I stalked toward the rear of the SUV to close it. I hadn’t brought any bags. Never did. That was just more reason for the hassle in the airports and anything I could do to minimize that, I did. It often included traveling empty-handed or with a carry-on that housed my valuable necessities. Never large luggage or checked baggage.
Tap. Tap .
Before pulling the door open, I startled the driver who was knee-deep in her phone and unaware of her surroundings. I’d warned her about that several times before, but she was as hard-headed as they came. That was obvious by the tags that I’d suggested she got rid of long ago. It could be hazardous, someone knowing who you are wherever you are.
“Belloooooo!” Cash squealed with excitement after noticing me on her passenger side.
“Stuck in that phone, huh? I could’ve been one of them niggas you’ve finessed or one of the bitches you’ve beat about the niggas you’ve finessed.”
“But, you’re not and they know what’s up with me,” Cash poked at her chest with the long, flamboyant nails that looked like they made it hard for her to function on a daily basis, “And, besides, they don’t want to meet their maker any time soon, so they know to lay low.”
“Ummm. Hmmm.”
“You’re always so uptight. Here,” she attempted to pass me the blunt she was enjoying a little too much, “hit this a loosen up a bit.”
Gently, I shoved her hand back in the opposite direction and reminded her, “I don’t smoke, Cash. Never have. Save yourself the energy and quit trying to make me start.”
“Wheeew. I swear. Every time I think you’ll return a changed man, I find out I’m wrong.”
Shrugging, I suggested, “So, quit thinking. You’ve never been good at that shit, anyway.”
“Whatever. My head is good for other shit, though. You should know that.” Sliding her tongue across her teeth, she eyed me from a short distance.
“I do,” I acknowledged, knowing all too well what Cash meant by that.
My dick swelled in my jeans at the mere thought, but I didn’t act on the urge. I had shit to do and it didn’t include lying between her legs. Not yet, at least. If I could help it, I’d refrain during my entire trip. Cash could be convincing, mainly because she was always around, but the tip we’d been on for the last decade was slowly becoming a thing of the past for me.
“Then, where are we headed? My place or yours?” She proceeded, rubbing my rigidness through my jeans as she waited for me to confirm our location.
“I’m not sure where you’re headed, Cash, but I’m headed home to catch up on a few things before preparing for my night,” I let her down as easy as I knew how.
“What do you mean you don’t know where I’m headed, Bello?” she hissed.
“I’m not sure how simpler it can get. I need you to drop me off. That’s it. That’s all.”
“So, you had me drive all the way up to this airport without any plans of giving me any dick?” She belted.
“Cash,” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose upward and then back down again. Repeatedly, in an attempt to remain calm.
“Na, nigga. Cause you foul as fuck for that. Why the fuck did you even want me to come get you, then, Bello? If it wasn’t to fuck?”
“You insisted,” I reminded her.
“So, you could’ve told me no! The fuck?”
“I did,” I reminded her as well.
“My nigga, that shit don’t…” She trailed off.
Before she could continue, I’d opened the passenger door and stepped out of her ride. A headache. That’s what Cash had become for me. The only time she was tolerable was when she had just gotten some dick from me or was trying to talk her way into some dick. Whatever the case was, it always involved dick, which was the reason I’d taken the offer off the table for the last few months. She was a much better friend than partner.
“Where the fuck are you going?” She screamed behind me.
Loud.
Rude.
Loud.
Conniving.
Loud.
Uncouth.
Loud.
Ghetto as fuck.
I reentered the airport considering Cash’s traits, ones that I hated most. They were the main elements of her makeup and why we’d never gotten very far. Ultimately, resulting in random hookups and simply keeping in touch. Sometimes, even that was a little too much for me to handle.
With age came experience. After experiencing women of nearly every caliber - as long as her skin was infused with sweet melanin and her roots ran deep - I’d come to the conclusion that I had a type. And, unfortunately, Cash simply didn’t fit the mold. As beautiful as she was, beauty was all that she possessed. Underneath that shell, she was bare. No brains. No morals. No potential.
Inside the airport, I searched for the signs leading me to the pick-up stations. Taxis, ride-sharing services, and buses lined the sidewalks, waiting for their next passenger. Strolling past them all, I stepped inside of the small booth where Carriage Luxe was housed. The fleet of foreign vehicles within their terminal was at their client’s expense and included a personal chauffeur.
“Bellooooo!” Danny, the owner/operator sang aloud.
“Danny, boy,” I returned with a nod of the head.
“One second and this one is on the house for getting me out of that jam. How long will you need it?”
“Twenty-four hours,” I assured him, “Then, I can handle myself from there.”
Though I had transportation waiting at my loft, I didn’t mind taking advantage of the services being that they were on the house. Initially, I only needed a ride home, but for the next twenty-four hours, I wouldn’t have to touch a wheel. That was good enough for me.
“Done. Let me get Lester out here.”
My awareness like Keanu in the matrix.
I’m saving souls and y’all complaining ‘bout my lateness.
Lauryn Hill spat fire on Nas’ track, Nobody , causing a few head nods and bobs from me as I pressed the button on the master remote to roll back the drapes and lift the blinds. The sun’s light had faded and darkness surrounded me. Every inch of glass - floor to ceiling - was flooded with deep, dark hues. My zone.
From the comfort of my bed, I watched the trees sway in the slight breeze. The hills were a sight that I enjoyed so much that I bought a crib in them. Elevated. Above all the bullshit. The loft that I’d purchased only three years prior barely got any foot traffic because I was hardly home. Hardly in the city.
It had been over a year since the last time I’d seen the inside of my spot. The concierge had done a damn good job preparing it for my arrival and the interior decorator spared no expense bringing my shit to life in the last month. She’d outdone herself. I made a mental note to wire a thank you to her bank account within the next few days.
Sighing deeply, I gazed at the city’s skyline with a swollen chest and heavy heart. Channing had once meant the world to me, along with the people within it. However, my occupation had pushed us apart and left me wondering if I’d ever make it back. Yet, here I was and I was thankful for the moment.
Peeping at my phone, I noticed it was going on 8:00. If I wanted to be out of here in time, I needed to get a move on it. With luck, I would make it to my destination around 9:15. Deciding on a fit was first on my list.
I stood to my feet, stretching my arms far above my head, causing the towel I’d had wrapped snugly around my waist to fall to the floor. My dick sprang from underneath, slapping my right thigh in the process. Thoughts of Cash quickly invaded my space, almost making me reconsider the plans I made to stay as far away from her as I could.
I’m good , I confirmed.
The city was full of women who were all at my disposal, and always had been, but that itch I once had to knock them down like a game of jingle had died. My desires were changing. Evolving. And, at this point in my life, if it wasn’t something solid, I didn’t want to be involved.
“Alexa, turn it up.”
Instead of sulking, I started for the master’s closet. Inside, I grabbed a black Armani tee and matching, black denim. Though my options were plentiful, they were alike. Black every fucking thing. It was signature and looked flush against my tar-colored skin, compliments of my pops. He was as black as they came. Skin black. Eyes black. Lips black. Gums… black. I’d inherited every bit of him, seemingly leaving my mother out of the equation entirely.
Within twenty minutes, I’d managed to clothe my naked limbs and put some shoes on my feet. I stepped in front of the full-length mirror that hadn’t previously been part of my home’s decor and admired myself - silently thanking the interior designer for the new addition.
Women, man . They just knew what to do and how to do that shit.
The void that I immediately felt upon first glance wasn’t foreign. I didn’t have to search to understand why it was there or where it had come from. The bareness that I felt was an easy fix, starting with the gold teeth I clamped into my mouth in just a few seconds. Next, I slipped my head through the large loop of chain and rested it on my neck. I finished the fit with a gold Rolley and bracelet combination.
Better .
Smoothing the edge of my beard, I approved the final look before stepping off and toward the kitchen. My fridge was loaded with the freshest organics from the farmer’s market. I grabbed a peach and the bottle of Hennessy that was chilling. Again, I made a mental note to transfer a few extra funds to the concierge personnel responsible for stocking my fridge in anticipation of my arrival.
For the next five minutes, my focus was aligned with the task at hand. I sliced the peach into four pieces and plopped them into the blender. The loud, bustling sound of the machine at work overwhelmed the speaker in the corner of my bedroom but didn’t last very long. Once the puree was complete, I poured it into a glass from the collection and topped it with two shots of Hennessy and a splash of lemonade. Shortly after, I was on my way out of the door, but not before grabbing the gift I’d had delivered a day prior.