~~~Chapter 10~~~
One year later…
Malice
Hopping out of my truck, I paused for a second, when I saw something nice switch past my house.
The broad had a wagon on her that was damn near clapping, as she flounced down the sidewalk.
For a minute…my heart skipped a beat, wondering if it was her.
That frame was almost identical, but when she glanced my way, I realized that I was tripping.
“Damn,” I mumbled, as I shook my head. “I’m tripping like a muthafucka.”
It had been a minute since I’d laid eyes on Big Baby, and I was shame to admit how much she still randomly crossed my mind. Or how excited I’d get whenever I’d see a thick’em from a distance. And every time, I’d just smile to myself, thankful for at least having the experience with her.
Looking back, I would sometimes wonder what would’ve happened had things just played out slightly differently, but overall…
I was good where I was at. So, I told myself that thinking about some of the best pussy I ever had, here and there, wasn’t a bad thing.
As long as I left the shit at just thoughts.
But for some reason, I’d been thinking about her more often, lately, and that was some shit I couldn’t understand.
I definitely aint the most righteous nigga around.
I’ve done my fair share of dirt. I’ve fucked up.
All that type of shit. However, once I started counting M’s, and my life changed, I was forced to think deeper.
I had watched too many hustlers with friendly dicks get caught in the twist, because they were dealing with the wrong hoes.
It was really asinine to think that tricking off money would ever suffice for keeping it real.
But funnily, that’s how most niggas operated.
They bought affection and pussy, then wondered why nobody stuck around whenever the storms came.
And me? I needed a fucking a rider. One who wouldn’t sing, even with a gun to her head.
My woman had to be TTG. Trained to go. And to have that type of woman on your team, then you had to pour into that.
Invest. Create a unshakable foundation. Because from my observation, when you treated the correct woman right, then that muthafucka would damn near be willing to take a bullet for you.
Although we never wanted it to come to that.
I was never one to glorify another culture, but the one thing that I peeped and respected about how the Italian mobsters did it, was the heavy emphasis on the family structure.
They believed in taking care of home, and keeping that shit in order.
Because a hustler with three babies’ mamas, and five kids all over the city, was a unfocused nigga.
Regardless of how tough their hustle game was.
Because a chaotic personal life was bound to bleed into the business.
So, I’d made a conscious decision to not have multiple women.
My gal was supposed to walk around with her head held high, not concerned about me moving recklessly, embarrassing her and shit. She was also supposed to carry me with the same level of respect in return. And she did.
No lie, there had been some times where I didn’t know if me and Paisley would make it.
She used to complain and argue too much.
It was like she could never stop and just smell the roses.
After a while, the shit felt exhausting and I wanted to do something different.
That was the space I was in when I met Big Baby.
And at that time…I was down for whatever.
Me and Big Baby could’ve dated, got serious, however the shit wanted to go.
But I knew that despite her nagging ways, Paisley loved me, for real.
So, when Big Baby’s nigga answered that phone, I took that as a sign to work it out with the woman I already knew and trusted.
Then I guess maybe I wasn’t fully invested, because I had enjoyed Big Baby the way that I had, and Paisley could feel it.
A woman’s intuition type shit. So, she was right back to the arguing, and nagging.
Ironically, just as I was about to call it quits for good, she came home with a whole new attitude.
I mean, she did a fucking one-eighty. Even her voice softened.
She became more expressive, without being confrontational.
The sex got better. She asked for my time versus picking fights.
Had a nigga falling in love all over again.
And now, we were good. I looked forward to coming home. I enjoyed spending time with her, and was getting comfortable with the idea of us being a permanent thing.
Stepping into the foyer of my house, it smelled like fruity scented candles. I knew that the aroma of food wouldn’t greet me, because Paisley couldn’t cook to save her life. Although, she’d randomly try, here and there.
“Ba-by,” I sang, as moseyed through the sizable two-story house. “Paisley,” I uttered, as I rounded the corner.
“Hmm?” She lifted her head and sniffed, as I caught her exiting the bathroom.
Noticing her solemn expression, I paused. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, attempting to ward off tears. “I just knew that this one would be positive.”
Instantly, my eyes traveled down to her hand, peeping the pregnancy stick. “Oh.”
“I…I think that something is wrong. It’s been too long. I’ve been off birth control for a while, and nothing is happening. What if…what if I can’t get pregnant, Khamere?”
I licked my lips, trying to use my words carefully. “Baby…you gotta relax. Let this shit happen naturally…and see what your doctor gotta say, and we can go from there. Because this aint back in the day. We got the bread, and can make this shit happen, one way or another. So, don’t stress.”
With tears rolling down her cheeks, she nodded. “You’re right.”
“I know, I am.” I winked, before pulling her into my arms. “It’s gonna be alright. You hear me?”
She nodded again, while gripping my shirt. I soothingly rubbed her back, as she buried her face in my chest, and sobbed.
I really hated this shit. Everything was everything with us, and I never would’ve imagined us struggling to get pregnant, once we were finally ready.
Although we had been together for a long minute, Paisley had always been on the shot.
And it wasn’t because she was the overly precautious type, neither.
She just had a mama that stayed on her ass.
Her mama, Jillie, was one of those helicopter mamas, always in her kids’ business.
She was overbearing, for sho, but I had a lot of respect for her, because her and her old man were basically hood legends.
Paisley’s daddy, Drop, used to slang big dope in the hood, and still had a massive presence there.
Now, he was one of the main developers, buying up land, and building those three and four-story houses around Acres Homes.
Drop was also the man who’d introduced me to my connect, and changed my life.
And the nigga was so cool that he never even held that shit over my head, but I digress.
Ms. Jillie had been adamant about her daughter finishing school and shit.
So, she would basically force her way into attending Paisley’s OBGYN appointments.
That meant that there hadn’t been no slip-ups, and Paisley had gotten her degree on time.
She was now a realtor, tax auditor, and was already spearheading several of her daddy’s business deals.
All on top of being finer than a muthafucka.
Paisley was petite, yet thick where it mattered.
She had a feminine six-pack, a round soft ass, and perky titties, that fit her frame perfectly.
She never skipped that skin care routine, and that chocolate skin was flawless.
Baby’s thick hair was naturally long, although she’d use extensions from time to time.
Then with those enchanting hazel eyes…that were bought…
people often claimed that she resembled a young Kenya Moore.
She had some height on her, standing at 5’8, and was easy to lift and flip however with her light weight.
So, I knew for sho, that we’d make some beautiful fucking babies.
“You good now?” I asked her, after she had noticeably simmered down in my arms.
She nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Good.” My hands traveled down to her ass, and cuffed those cheeks. “You missed me?” I questioned, since I’d left early that morning.
She sighed. “Always. But I just got home myself. My daddy is working the hell out of me, as usual.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Ummhmm.”
“Well, let’s go lay down. Let me relieve some of that…pressure.”
She tittered. “You so nasty.”
“And you love it,” I rebutted, while guiding her upstairs.
Ten minutes later, we were both in the middle of our king-sized bed, butt naked, working up a sweat. Paisley had a mean arch in her back, as I was digging deep in that pussy from the back. While I gripped those hips…my mind began wandering, as it had a tendency to do, lately.
It was fucked up, because Paisley was the shit. The pussy was always wet and tight. Yet somehow, for some reason, I’d sometimes picture Big Baby, and then immediately explode in her, right after.
***
“I’ma just eat this slice of pizza, for now. Cause I’m definitely ‘bout to fall off in one of my spots and eat dinner tonight,” I casually announced, as I grabbed a seat at a table in the middle of the food court in the Galleria mall.
“This nigga, here,” PJ chuckled, as he sat down too. “Can’t stand toI eat no fast food.” He opened the Styrofoam container that held his Chinese food.
“So, you aint going to the club tonight?” Sev, my other partner, questioned, as he joined us at the table with his Chick-fil-A in tow. That nigga was approaching thirty and still clubbed every other day.
“Nah, nigga, I doubt it,” I told him, before taking a bite out of my pizza slice.