Crown Heart
crown heart
. . .
The only reason I tossed Kupid into that damn pool was because her ass deserved it. I needed lil’ baby to go ahead and let her guard down and relax, not turn up on my damn game. She’d lost her damn mind then. I woke up feeling bad about it, so I had a hairdresser come out to hook her up and an owner of a boutique in the Bahamas to bring a few clothes for her to pick out. Hopefully, that’ll make us even, and we can enjoy the rest of our trip.
While Kupid was busy with the ladies, I took a shower in the bedroom’s ensuite. We were supposed to be snorkeling first, but with Kupid getting her hair done, I wasn’t sure if she would be down to do that. Nisha had plenty of shit on that list that she could choose from instead.
“I’m glad I ain’t walk out here naked, swinging dick,” I snorted through a snicker when I walked out on a cleaning lady making the bed.
When I woke this morning, Kupid was snoring softly asleep on her side. The bed was like a cloud. I sunk into it myself last night and went right to fuckin’ sleep, but it was still no match for the one I had at home.
The light-skinned cleaning lady’s face turned red at the sight of me shirtless and in ball shorts. I moved around her to where I’d placed my jewelry and made sure it was all there.
“Can I…Can I have your autograph for my twelve-year-old son? He loves your music.”
I turned around and she was finishing up with the bed. One thing I didn’t have an issue wit’ was signing autographs and taking pictures with fans. They didn’t to have to fuck wit’ my music, but they did, and I appreciate that shit. In the Bahamas I got shown love.
“Yeah, I can do that,” I let her know. I searched the room with my eyes, trying to find something I could sign. She reached inside a pocket of her apron and pulled out a notepad. “Perfect.” I offered her a smile.
“You are very handsome,” she told me, batting her eyelids. Now her ass was flirting.
I chortled. “’Preciate it.” Taking the notepad and pen from her, I asked what her son’s name was.”
“Keem.”
I wrote a note to Keem and signed my name at the bottom before handing it back to her. She had a big smile and began batting her eyes again. It was crazy. Kupid was here with me, and the woman didn’t know if that was my girl or wife. Either way, that shit was disrespectful, and I ain’t like that shit.
My eyes drifted toward the door when Kupid appeared at it.
“Damn,” slipped out.
The long weave was gone, replaced by a few scalp braids in black and blonde. She eyed the house cleaner and then touched the top of her head.
“I took the bundles out. I feel this would be more appropriate for snorkeling and getting my hair wet,” she explained.
“That shit looks good. The women left? Let me go tip them.” I stopped walking and ushered for the cleaner to follow me. She got all happy, but I only told her to go ahead and bounce.
When I approached them, the boutique owner and hairdresser were packing up. First, I turned to the cleaner because she was right on my heels.
“You can leave,” I told her, pointing toward the door. Her jaw slacked, but she left with her tail tucked in. I handed the other ladies a hundred-dollar bill over what they’d already charged me. Both sets of eyes lit up, and they thanked me.
Kupid was standing behind me with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Aren’t you nice,” she said with a smirk.
“I can be.” I walked over to Kupid and stood closely in front of her. “I’m nice to you, too.” She placed her hands on my chest, attempting to distance us. Kupid refused to look up at me, so I raised her head by the chin. “I get it, Kupid. That nigga hurt you. He fucked your heart and your head up. Give a nigga a chance, and I’ll show you how that nigga wasn’t the one fa you anyway.”
Kupid pulled her head back and balled up her face.
“And who is?”
“Me.” I said that shit with confidence and wit’ my chest out. I’d been content being single and just fuckin’ females with no strings attached, but since the day I sat across from Kupid at the restaurant, I knew she was who I wanted. Didn’t know shit about the woman, but I knew. I just knew.
“Please, boss .”
I cackled. “Are you sayin’ for me to pursue you, I can’t be ya boss? If that’s the case, you’re fired as of this moment.”
Kupid bellowed loudly, holding her stomach. When she noticed I hadn’t joined in…in face, I kept a straight face, her face dropped.
“I know you’re not serious,” Kupid said, arching a brow in disbelief. She squinted. “At this point, this is harassment and…and…that wouldn’t make me want to date you.”
I shrugged. “Ain’t not HR, baby. Fuck dating. Let’s skip to the altar. I do, if you do.” I tilted my head and began nodding it, mumbling words that came to me. “Fuck, I can make a song called…”
“Skip to the altar?” Kupid said, narrowing her eyes even more.
I shook a finger at her. “Yeah, skip to the alter or fuck dating. One of those.” I licked my lips. “But look, we gotta get up out of here. Your hair looks good, bae,” Kupid sucked her teeth, “shit, you look good. Go throw on one of those sexy bathing suits and meet me back here.”
“You’re pushing it, calling me that. I am not your baby, your bae, your girl…”
“Duh,” I snorted, looking around as I cut her off, “you’re wifey.”
“Oh wow.” Kupid tittered while walking off. I watched her hips sway from side to side. “So delusional.”
“Ima write a whole album bout’ you by the end of the night. We got Skip to the Altar, and now So Delusional ‘Bout You … I’m taking notes.”
“I am criiiine,” Kupid hooted, then slammed the room door.
Rubbing my hands together, I shook my head and smiled at the closed door. Kupid was playing hard to get, but I smelled her when I was up on her. Panties were probably drenched. I wasn’t cocky or none like that, but she wanted me just as I wanted her, and before the night ended, I was gon have Kupid.
A let out a low whistle when Kupid came out of the room in a red two-piece bathing suit covered by a white see-through cover-up. My eyes greedily drank in the view with awe. The red against her skin tone was a perfect match. Kupid pretended not to see me.
“You got that lil’ shit from that boutique?” I questioned.
“Yeah. It ain’t much of nothing. Just some thin fabric,” she replied, looking down at herself.
“Before we leave, we gon’ have to stop by and buy that boutique out.” I groaned.
“Creep.” I guffawed. I was in a wife beater, and Burberry swim shorts with matching Burberry slides. I had some nice-looking feet. Therefore, I ain’t mind having them out. Kupid had some bright neon green short nails and toes. Shit was gon look nice out in the sun and sand. Might get sucked on tonight.
Opening the door, I sheepishly grinned and motioned for Kupid to lead the way out. She stopped at the doorway. My eyes were already on her fat ass, but as soon as she stopped, they bounced back up, and I had already been caught.
Kupid gave me a sideways glance. “Don’t be looking at my ass either.”
“That lil’ shit,” I joked.
“You wish it were little,” she snorted.
I shook my head rapidly. “No. No. The. Fuck. I. Don’t.”
Kupid acted as if she was annoyed wit’ my ass, but I could see the chewing of her lips to avoid smiling. She was fighting that shit so badly. My dick was cuttin’ up bad in these shorts, watching her cheeks jiggle.
“Yo, what the fuck that cover-up was supposed to cover up cause…”
“Don’t start, Crown,” she warned, cutting me off. I chuckled quietly.
Once we arrived where we were snorkeling on Love Beach, I paid for the experience, and we were handed our gear. My mouth watered as I watched Kupid remove the cover-up. Her brown skin glistened under the scorching sun.
“Aye!” I snapped at the instructor. “Watch yo’ eyes. This my damn wife!”
Kupid tittered. “Boy.”
The instructor turned around when he saw that I wasn’t playing. Once we had this tight shit on, he turned around, and we followed him to the water. I noticed big ass turtles in the water and swallowed a lump in my throat. My eyes bounced around, searching for sharks. I heard nothing the instructor was saying. Kupid nudged me.
“You look scared. You can sit this out. I promise I won’t go online and tell your fans how you punked out of snorkeling.” Kupid stuck her tongue out.
I frowned down at her beautiful ass. “Ain’t shit punk ‘bout me, wife.”
She mushed my head before I could grab her wrist. “I am not your wife, Crown. Stop saying that before these folks run to the blogs.”
“Stop caring what mothafuckas say, Kupid,” I countered, rolling my eyes like she do.
“You’re stupid,” she hooted, covering her mouth. “Let’s get in this water, scaredy cat.”
“You gon be scared keep playin’. You look like a runner.” I chuckled at myself.
“You won’t find out,” Kupid smacked, snaking her neck.
I nodded. “Aight.”
The water was cold as fuck, but once we got used to it, it didn’t faze us. I laughed at how Kupid squealed whenever something brushed against her in the water. I actually fucked wit’ the shit unless it looked like it wanted to bite. They didn’t want these hands. If I wasn’t a rapper, I could be the next Mike Tyson.
Kupid was dodging a big fish, and I was standing behind her. She backed up on my dick and quickly jumped forward. Kupid stiffened up.
“Yeaaaah.” I guffawed. “Don’t get scared now.”
After another thirty minutes of snorkeling, we took our wrinkled asses back to the townhouse to change so we could put some food on our stomachs. Instead of going out to a restaurant, a chef came to us. Tonight, we were going to a nightclub. Kupid complained about needing a nap.
Kupid showered in the master bathroom while I showered in the other. The male chef had come out about ten minutes after my shower. While he started dinner, I hopped on my game. My phone rang as soon as I sat down in the living area. Usually, when I was on vacation, even if it was for two or three days, I didn’t answer the phone for anyone on my team. They knew that too, but I went ahead and answered for Trae’s ass. I put him on speaker as I started a game.
“’Sup, nigga,” I answered.
“Nigga, I thought you went alone. You took the social media manager chick?” Straight to the point.
“Nigga, fuck you in my business fa? Watch yo’ mouth, too. My shit on speaker.” I didn’t want Kupid walking in on Trae talkin’ shit about her. I wouldn’t have let the shit get far anyway.
“You gon break that lady’s heart, Crown. Then what?” Trae huffed.
“I ain’t breakin’ shit, Trae. Fuck you talmbout? That’s my damn wife anyway. Don’t be surprised if we come back and she wearin’ my last name.” I snickered at the thought.
Trae laughed. “You a nut, bro. Anyway, I really hit you up to let you know they want to start touring as soon as you get back. I’m currently working on the city lineup and contacting the venues. You coo’ wit’ dat?”
“Down fa whateva,” I let him know.
The line grew quiet, causing me to dart down at the phone. When I realized Trae was still on the line, I focused back on my game. Trae sighed, and I knew he was about to say some crazy, fucked up shit.
“Don’t come back with a seed in ole girl, nigga,” he mumbled.
“You said shoot two in her? Bet.” I ended the call as Trae talked all types of shit.
Four hours later…
After we ate, we both napped. I fell asleep on the sofa. It was about 9:30 p.m. when Kupid and I started getting ready for the club. I chose black Balenciaga jeans, a black Balenciaga shirt, and the same brand sneakers. My grill was in my mouth, along with my other jewelry and my gold Cartier glasses. As soon as I felt like him , I went in search of Kupid.
“Yo fly betta match my—” My words caught in my throat when Kupid appeared in a sleeveless lace jumpsuit. The legs were lace that flared. When she turned around, her whole back was out. Her heels were clear. “Damn. You love that lace shit, huh?”
“This was from that boutique you love so much.” Kupid cackled.
She picked up a Saint Laurent chain purse and slung it over her shoulder. As she stood in front of the mirror, I remained a short distance behind her. We locked eyes in the mirror. I cannot let this woman return to Heartville without being mine.