12. Juliet Echo #4
Moving with the grace of a gazelle, Princess sat up, got on her knees and took me into her mouth. Her jaw locked down, caging me in a warm wet sanctuary. Gripping the back of her head I began thrusting into her mouth. Already at my peak, I knew this good time was coming to an end fast.
Fuck. I should have got some head before I tore that pussy up.
"Damn, baby, I'm about to—"
Before I could finish, Peanut gripped both my ass cheeks and pulled me deeper down her throat, allowing me to spill every seed without missing a single drop. She was definitely getting a follow back on IG.
"Damn, Ma," I said, caressing the side of her face. She let me glide gently from her mouth, making sure to give the head a soft kiss on the way out.
"Girl, you trying to make a nigga—"
Before I could finish my sentence one of my phones rang. This particular phone ringing would always stop me cold. Nobody but family had this number, so when it rang I answered — period.
"Excuse me," I said, fixing my clothes and making my way back to the mixing board.
I picked up without looking at the name. Didn't matter.
"Ech, you heard about Sunday's?"
Optimus.
"No. What about it?"
"Fight broke out. Two niggas got their asses whooped. Cops and EMT’s are rolling or already there," he said, with more panic in his voice than I liked.
"Aight — so what does that have to do with us, Optimus?"
"I heard Juliet was involved."
The room's temperature changed. Everything went silent and my mind had already traveled to the worst possible scenario. If even a false eyelash was out of place on Juliet's face, everyone involved would be consuming their meals through a straw for the remainder of their natural lives.
"I'll meet you there," was all I said before ending the call.
I turned to face the ebony beauty who'd been keeping me company for the evening. She was slowly getting dressed, reading the room with grace.
"I'll call you a car," I said.
She flashed her phone at me, face disappointed but still hopeful. "My driver Armando will be here in three minutes."
I reached into my pocket. About a thousand on me.
I walked over to her slowly and placed it in her hand.
I was in a rush — every second standing still felt like a second Juliet was somewhere I couldn't reach her — but I wasn't a disrespectful man.
She'd given me her time and her body and she deserved to be handled with care regardless of what was pulling at me from the outside.
She took the money and I pulled her into a hug, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
"I got an emergency — but I'll reach out soon. Security will make sure you get to your ride safely." I cuffed her face in my hand. "Be good, Pleasure."
"It's Precious," she called to my back.
"Baby, after what you just did — it's definitely Pleasure," I said as the door closed behind me.
Sunday's was lit blue and red when I pulled up. Four squad cars, two ambulances and a small crowd that knew to clear a path the moment I stepped out of the car. I was barely reaching for the door when a hand landed on my shoulder. Already on ten, I spun around with full force, ready for whatever.
"Chill, brody — it's just me," Optimus said, hands raised in mock surrender.
"I told you about sneaking up on me like that. Gonna end up with a few put in you."
"And I told you, them hitters you hired ain't worth a damn if a nigga can get this close to you without being clocked. But I peeped the scene — Ju-Ju ain't in there and she ain't hurt," Optimus confirmed.
Hearing that baby-girl was safe loosened something in my chest. "I gave everyone the night off because Ju-Ju was supposed to be at Yahya's. You think this shit would have happened if my people knew she was in there?"
"Man, I don't know. But what I do know is Ju was on a date and some dude beat her date's ass. For what, I couldn't tell you."
So not only did her little ass lie about where she was going — she snuck out on a date with a nigga who couldn't even fight.
This was a perfect example of why I stayed on Juliet like white on rice.
She was hardheaded. Convinced she knew more than everyone older than her.
Swore she was tough. Always certain she could handle any person and any situation that came her way.
Just like her mother.
"This girl got more of Simone in her than I could have ever imagined.
You'd think she raised her," I smirked, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
The scene was typical for a brawl — broken furniture, blood splatter, still energy hanging in the air.
By the movement pattern alone I'd say it lasted a solid three minutes.
"Speaking of Simone — you think it's time you told baby girl?" Optimus asked.
"That nigga Sloane dead?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then nah. I don't think it's time," I replied, the frustration building behind my eyes.
"Aye, Ech, man I think—"
"I think you should drop it and help me figure out whose teeth I need to bash in."
I spotted Mega sitting at the bar, some young nigga beside him handcuffed and getting patched up by an EMT.
To my right, two more — seated in dining chairs, cuffed, facial bruises already beginning to swell.
I was heading toward Mega, Optimus in step, ready to dismantle every single one of them — until Officer Tate called my name.
Tate was cool. We went to high school together, got into a couple of scrapes, mostly over women that had no business belonging to either one of us.
"Everette, what's good nigga," Tate said, dapping me up.
"You tell me," I said.
"From what I can piece together — this one was on a date with Juliet. This one didn't appreciate something he said about her and handled it accordingly. The other two are casualties of war," Tate explained.
"Walmart Dave East — a Clarke, ain't he?" Optimus asked.
"Yeah. How'd you know that?" Tate responded.
"That fake ass AP on his wrist," Optimus said.
Muffled snickers moved through the room. I didn't find a single thing funny. This punk had disrespected baby-girl. Major violation.
"Let them go," I said, burning a hole through the Clarke nigga’s chest with my eyes. "All of them, Tate — let them go and make this disappear. I'll speak to Mr. Pristine and make it right with Sunday."
"Bro, you sure?" Optimus asked.
"Yeah. These two," I said, nodding toward Mega and company, "are good. But these two," I said, eyes settling on bootleg Dave East and his partner, "are about to prove to your doubting ass exactly how thorough the niggas I pay really are." I grinned devilishly.
"Well alright then — give me twenty minutes," Tate said, clearing his throat.
As the cuffs came off I made my way over to the Clarke nigga and his homeboy. Standing over them, still grinning from ear to ear, I asked —
"Aye. Y'all niggas know how to play manhunt?"