Chapter 10
I s t o o d i n the middle of the fuckin’ sidewalk and watched Nyomi’s car disappear ‘round the corner. Her ass really dipped off on me and wit’ my son? Hell nah. Pullin’ out my phone, I called her, and that shit went straight to voicemail.
“She got me fucked up,” I muttered, pullin’ up our messages to check her location.
Playin’ games was gon’ make me crash the fuck out. I started textin’ her ass. Fast, angry. Fingers movin’ ‘til my screen filled up.
“Fuck!” I ran both hands over my face slowly before turnin’ and walkin’ toward my truck. Every step felt heavy as fuck, heat creepin’ up my spine. The moment I reached the truck, I balled my fist up and punched the hood. Metal rang under my knuckles.
People outside the restaurant gasped, all scared and shit.
I could feel their eyes on me, but I didn’t give a fuck.
I paced back and forth in front of my truck, draggin’ my hand over my beard as I looked at my phone again.
No text back or call. I glanced down the street again like her car was gon’ just magically reappear.
The restaurant door creaked open behind me, and I heard somebody whisper, “Is everything okay, sir?” I turned my head slowly to see two employees standin’ halfway in the doorway, lookin’ nervous as hell.
“Mind y’all’s fuckin’ business. Run your shit!” I barked, roundin’ the front of my truck. My chest tightened. The demon inside me woke up stretchin’.
Droppin’ into the driver’s seat, the truck rocked when I snatched the door shut. I peeled off so hard the tires screeched. Speedin’ down the street, my phone buzzed in my hand, and I quickly looked at the screen.
Pissed it wasn’t Nyomi, I rejected the call. I wasn’t in the mood for shit else but gettin’ my fiancé. Then, Keema called back, and I asked, “I’m handlin’ some shit right now.”
“Fool, what you do now?”
“Fuck you mean?”
“My homegirl is at Le Fritz. She watched the whole clown show you just put on wit’ Ny! Straight trippin’!”
At a red light, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yo, Keema…”
“No! You stormed in there like the nut you are and scared folks off their French toast. The fuck? How embarrassin’!”
“She was sittin’ wit’ another nigga.”
“Oh, really?”
“I’m dead ass. Some pretty boy ass weddin’ planner.” I gripped the steerin’ wheel, thinkin’ back to the way Nyomi and this nigga was all laughin’ and shit.
“Keon, you done really lost your mind. A weddin’ planner, nigga? Really? Ny ain’t fuckin’ wit’ the man! Bro, you do too much. You gon’ lose that girl if you don’t calm your ass the fuck down.”
“I hear you,” I muttered.
“That woman loves you, but damn. I know she’s tired of your ass. Y’all got a baby and gettin’ married, but she’s most likely tired. Fix this shit.” Keema hung up before I could answer.
Pain throbbed behind my eyes as I opened the messages and seen Nyomi still ain’t hit me back. Reachin’ into the middle console, I pulled out a pre-rolled blunt and sparked it up. I ended up callin’ every hotel in the area and came up wit’ nothin’.
“Fuckin’ playin’,” I sucked my teeth.
Then, like a fuckin’ lightbulb went off in my head, I opened the bank app. If Ny touched money, she left fingerprints. Clear as day was a recent charge in our joint account.
I knew that spot. We went there for a weekend a grip ago. It was a luxury hotel downtown wit’ shops, restaurants, a spa, and shit. Shakin’ my head, I remembered the way Nyomi rode my dick before the massages started.
Of course, she picked somewhere fancy. I thought about sendin’ her another text, but said fuck it. I was just gon’ pull up. Her ass better hope this blunt done cooled me off by the time I got to that muthafucka.