Chapter MONEY
MONEY
She wore a Black pencil skirt that hugged her hips I’d gripped hard enough to bruise, along with a cream blouse that I wanted to rip open with my teeth. Her hair was pulled back so slick it made me want to wrap that ponytail around my fist and make her remember who she belonged to.
She was on her phone, typing something with those quick, efficient fingers. Nails done to perfection as always. That’s when I saw a ring on her left hand and almost aired the whole coffee shop out. She was probably texting him, telling that soft muthafucka she loved him or some shit.
I sipped my coffee and let her order before watching her move over to the pickup counter. I let her think shit was sweet. Just another day. Then I stood up and walked over, timing it perfectly. “Soul.”
She turned, and I watched her face cycle through emotions–shock, fear, anger, and underneath it all, that flicker of want she could never hide. “What the hell are you doing here?” Her voice was controlled, but I heard the tremor.
“Waitin’ for you.” I reached past her, deliberately invading her space as I tossed my coffee cup in the trash. I popped a piece of gum in my mouth and told her, “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” She grabbed her cup and tried to move past me, but I caught her arm firm enough that she’d feel it. “Don’t touch me,” she said, but she didn’t pull away. I knew she couldn’t. We both knew that shit.
“I’ll touch what’s mine whenever I want.” I leaned in close, my mouth near her ear. “And you’re mine, Solei. That little ass ring on your finger doesn’t change shit.”
“We’re separated…”
“We’re married,” I cut her off, my grip tightening slightly. “Separated ain’t fuckin’ divorced. And you know why we never got divorced? Because you’re not done with me. You’re just scared.”
She jerked her arm free and rushed out of the coffee shop. I followed, backing her right up against the brick wall, not giving a fuck who was stating. “Montana, just leave me alone,” she pleaded, her voice shaking now.
“Can’t do that.” I let my eyes drop to her left hand, anger rising. “Darius Jennings, right? Investment banker for Lee and Associates. Lives at 2250 Market Street, unit 4B. Drives a pristine black Audi. Jogs through Riverway Park every mornin’ at six."
Her face went pale. “What the…?”
“I know everything, baby. You think I wouldn’t have eyes on you?” I smiled, cold and sharp. “I know he takes you to that boring ass Italian spot on Fridays. I know he’s got a sister in college and his parents got bread. They go to Marinette Baptist Church every Sunday, right?
“You’re having us followed.”
“I’m watchin’ what’s mine.” I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, watching her flinch. “And right now, what’s mine is makin’ a big mistake. But that’s cool, I’m gon’ fix it.”
“There's nothing to fix. I’m engaged. I’m moving on.”
“You’re not doin’ shit except playin’ house with a muthafucka who doesn’t know you.
” I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to that quiet tone that made grown men nervous.
“Tell me somethin’, Solei. Does he know what you like?
Does he know you like it rough? Does he know you like to be choked while you get fucked silly?
Does he know about the dollar sign tattoo behind your ear, or do you always wear your hair down these days to hide it? ”
“Stop it.”
“Does this nigga make you cum back to back the way I do?” I watched her pupils dilate, watched her breath catch. “Nah. I don’t think he does. I think you lie there thinkin’ about me while he does his boring missionary shit. I think you fake it and wish it were my hands on you instead of his.”
“Fuck you. You don’t know anything about…”
“I know you don’t love him,” I said flatly. “I know you’re settlin’ because you’re scared of what we are. What we’ve always been.”
“What we were was toxic.”
“What we were was everything.” I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“And you know that shit. You can stand here and lie to yourself all you want, but your body doesn’t lie, Solei.
Your pulse is racin’. Your pupils are blown.
You know that pussy’s wet as fuck right now just from me bein’ this close to a nigga. ”
She slapped my hand away, tears forming in her eyes. “If you don’t want that restraining order placed, I suggest you stay the fuck away from me. I mean it, Money. And leave Darius alone.”
“Or what?” I smiled. "You gon’ call the cops? Tell them your husband is botherin’ you? We both know you won’t do that. You’ve never turned on me. Not once. Not even when you should have.”
“I left you.”
“You fuckin’ ran,” I corrected. “Aight, so I’ve cheated here and there, but let’s not act like you didn’t get your lick back.”
“You deserved it.” Solei narrowed her watery eyes at me, a scowl on her beautiful face.
“Yeah, well. We see where that got us, right? That muthafucka’s dead and we’re doin’ this dumb separation bullshit.” I licked my lips, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
“Money, I’m going to be late for work.”
“I’ve been patient, Solei. I’ve given you a year and a half to get your head right. Emotions in check. I’ve been co-parentin’, lettin’ you have your space, and I've worked on becomin’ the man you said you needed. I’m out the game.”
“Businesses don’t mean you’re fully out. Maybe the streets, but not the game. If you’ll excuse me…" She tried to step away.
“Solei, my patience has limits.” I stepped closer, my body fully caging her in. “And watchin’ another man put a ring on my wife’s finger? Knowin’ he’s in your bed and around my kids. That’s past my fuckin’ limit.”
“You can’t just…”
“Enough about this shit,” I said quietly.
“We both know what I’m capable of.” I pulled out my phone, scrolled to a photo, and showed it to her.
Her lame ass nigga, jogging through the park this morning, completely unaware of the camera on him.
“See how easy it would be? He’s out there every mornin’ on the same route at the same time.
No awareness. Just a target in runnin’ shoes. ”
Solei looked horrified. “Money, please…”
“Break off the engagement. Tell him it’s not workin’. Tell him whatever the fuck you need to tell him. But that ring comes off your finger and he disappears.”
“This is insane.”
“This is love, baby.” I cupped her face, my thumb brushing her cheekbone.
“I love you enough to let you walk away for this long. I love you enough to give you space to figure your shit out. But I don’t love you enough to watch you marry another man.
That’s where my love stops and my violence starts. ”
She was crying now, tears streaming down her face. “Montana, just stop.”
I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. “You got one week. Seven days to end this shit with him and come back where you belong, aight?” I pulled back, looking her dead in the eyes. “And I also need you to make sure Richardson keeps his fuckin’ mouth shut. Get him a plea deal.”
“No! I’m tired of doing your dirty work! This is my life too!”
“Well, we both know what’ll happen if he talks about me or my business. It won’t be pretty and that’ll be on your conscience. So make it happen.” I stepped back, finally, giving her space to breathe. “Seven days to get rid of that nigga and forty-eight hours to get a plea deal for Richardson.”
“You’re fucking scaring me,” she whispered.
“Good. You should be scared enough to make the right choices.” I smiled, cold and empty. I started walking away, then paused. “Oh, and take that fuckin’ ring off. It’s disrespectful. You’re still my wife, Soul. Act like it.”
I walked out into the morning sun, leaving her there shaking and crying and exactly where I wanted her–scared, confused, and remembering who the fuck she belonged to. I pulled out my burner phone to text Check.
Then I texted Tip.
Finally, I got in my car and drove away, my mind already three steps ahead.
Solei thought she could move on and replace me with some safe, boring nigga who’s never make her feel the way I did.
She was about to learn another life lesson.
Because I wasn’t asking for her back. I was taking what was mine.
And if Darius got in the way? Well… I dropped bodies before. One more wouldn’t make a difference.