6. Deja McCoy #2
Now that I wasn’t on the phone anymore, the car was quiet.
Just the music that was playing softly. We were sitting at a red light, and I found myself fiddling with my fingers because it was one of those awkward silences that was going on.
I was getting ready to unlock my phone, so that I could just tend to that, but he eventually cleared his throat, gearing up to say something to me.
“What’s going on with your car?” he asked me.
I turned to look at him. Really hating that I did that because I got that same feeling that I got that night in the club, when I danced on him.
Although I didn’t show it to him that night, I was nervous dancing on him.
His stare was so intense. Because we were sitting at a red light, the light shined through the car in a sense, giving me the perfect visual of him.
He was dressed in his business shirt, which was just a black polo, with his business name stamped on the left side.
Just like at the club, he had all that long, beautiful hair pulled back into a low bun.
I was so amazed by his facial features. Those high cheekbones, his thick eyebrows, full lashes, and beautiful lips.
I could tell he wasn’t a weed smoker. A lot of times when niggas smoked a lot of weed, their lips would tell on them.
They would often be black. Wolf’s lips were a perfect pink.
He was huge in stature. Everything was big.
Big hands, and big feet. We stood close to each other at Range Rover, so this man had to be at least 6’4”.
His muscles were popping out of his shirt.
I usually liked skinny men. Overly cocky men always gave vibes that they were super obsessed with themselves, but Wolf didn’t give that. He gave super laid back, and humble.
“They said that it’s an electrical issue,” I responded.
“An electrical issue like what? That could mean a million things,” he voiced.
“I really don’t know. I know he said that it was something with the module, some of the wiring, and even a few of the sensors were off. I can’t understand all those mechanical words that they were using,” I responded.
The light turned green at this point, so he took his eyes off me, focusing on the road.
“You paying niggas to fix your car, and you don’t even understand what they fixing?
I asked you what’s wrong with your car, and you can’t explain it to me because you don’t even fully understand the problem yourself.
That’s how niggas get over on you. They put a number in front of you, and you just going to swipe your card for it, without understanding what the problem is?
” he asked, and I rolled my eyes at his question.
He was giving me the kind of vibes that he liked to argue with bitches, and I didn’t like that.
“Why the fuck do you care that I don’t understand what they’re fixing on my car? This concerns you how?” I wanted to know.
“It doesn’t concern me. It should concern your nigga though. While you having car problems, and on your way to get in the car with predator Uber drivers, where your nigga at?” he wanted to know.
It felt like he put his foot in my mouth. He shut my ass up, which is something that not many people are able to do. I always had a comeback. Always had to get the last word in, but this time, I didn’t have shit to say.
“Exactly. Your car problems sound like a problem for your nigga to have, and not you. You don’t know shit about what’s going on with your car, which is why he should have been the one at the service desk, asking the questions that clearly your ass isn’t asking.
Make better decisions on who you give your pussy to.
You shouldn’t have to feel the stress of having car issues.
Let a nigga handle that,” and after that, he turned the radio up on my ass, leaving it at that.
The man that he described to me, I knew that Hitta would never be that.
Hitta knew that I was dealing with car issues these past few weeks, and he’s never really asked me how it was going.
I knew damn well that his ass wasn’t going to come down to Range Rover to see what was going on with my car.
That’s just not the kind of man that he was.
It was obvious that Wolf was that kind of man though.
He gave me that if he ever got a bitch, his bitch would probably be put up and wouldn’t have to lift a finger.
I could tell. He exuded so much dominance.
You could tell that his ass wanted to always control everything.
It was only a bad thing if he was overly controlling.
It would be cool if he only controlled situations to take the pressure and the stress off his lady.
He pulled up to my apartment complex ten minutes later.
“You can just drop me off right here on the curb. I’ll walk to the back where my unit is. I don’t want you following where I walk,” I said to him, removing the seat belt that I had on.
“How far is the walk to your unit?” he wanted to know.
“I’m in the back, so it’s a nice little walk. I don’t mind walking though. Thank you for dropping me off,” I said, fully prepared to get out of the car.
He wasn’t thinking the way that I was thinking though. When he saw a car go through the gate, he tagged behind them, going through the gate, while turning his head to look at me, basically waiting for me to tell him which way to go, so that he could drive in that direction.
“Now you’re starting to act like the nigga that was in the uber. Make a left right here,” I said, pointing with my finger.
“You don’t even believe that. If you felt like I was on some predator shit with you, you wouldn’t have gotten in the car with me, and you wouldn’t be directing me to your spot,” he said.
He was right. I really didn’t play that shit when it came to where I laid my head. I continued to walk him through, telling him which direction to go in, and before I knew it, we were parked in front of the staircase that I was going to take to make it up to the second floor.
“It’s right here. Thank you again,” I said.
“It’s cool. When is your car going to be ready?” he asked me.
“They said tomorrow. Hopefully, they’re telling me the truth this time,” I said, opening the door, really needing to get the fuck from around him.
I didn’t like the feeling that I would get whenever I looked at him. I felt like I was a fan. I felt like one of the thousands of women in Miami who wanted to fuck him. He was too fine, and I hated that. His ass was mean as hell too.
“Aight. Pay close attention to the kind of cars that you’re getting into.
That lil gun that you packing with you is cute and all, but do you know how to use it?
If a nigga got you in his back seat, and he try some funny shit with you, you’ll bust it if you have to?
” he asked me, staring me deep into my soul like he’s been doing.
I found myself getting hot, which is why I was in such a rush to get away from him, and into the house.
“I’m not scared to bust my gun. I don’t carry this around just for decoration,” I let him know, this time, really opening the door, and I got out.
He was still staring at me, and I was doing the same thing in return.
You could tell that we both found each other to be attractive.
If Hitta was near me right now, and he could see the way that I was staring at Wolf, I know for a fact that he would be ready to beat my ass.
Hell, I was ready to beat my own ass for staring at him like this.
I eventually got the hell on. I closed the door and walked away quickly.
I took the stairs up to the second floor and made my way into the apartment.
The water was back on. I received a text message earlier while I was at Range Rover.
The way the day stressed me out, the only thing I wanted to do was shower, and get my ass in bed.
HOURS LATER
1:24 A.M.
“Get the fuck up, Deja! Wake yo’ ass up man!” the sound of Hitta’s voiced boomed in my bedroom, followed by the sheets being pulled off my body.
Before I could fully process what the hell was going on, this man pulled me out of the bed by the front of the tank top that I was wearing, making me hit my head on the comforter, and in seconds, I was down on my ass.
I was so confused. He stood before me, with his phone in his left hand, looking like a mad man.
“Javaris, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you pull me out of the bed like that?” I screamed, trying to stand up, so that I could swing on his as, but he pushed me back down, not allowing me to get up.
His body towered over me. He was clearly upset about something, but whatever it was, it didn’t justify him barging into my fuckin house and pulling me out of the bed like this.
“When you went to Atlanta the other day to do that music video for Kilo, be honest, did you fuck that nigga? If you lie to me, I swear to God Ima go in yo’ shit.
Did you fuck that nigga or not?” he roared, still standing over me, looking down at me, and for the first time, this nigga really looked as if he would put his hands on me.
Hitta has never hit me before. He would make threats to slap me, especially when I would start talking crazy to him, but he’s never hit me.
He’s jacked me up before, but that was literally it.
He was out of his body tonight. The fact that I could see how red, and glossy his eyes were, led me to believe that his stupid ass was drunk, and high.