Tariq “Reek” Horton
I slipped out of Ava’s room and quietly hurried down Saint’s hallway.
I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I was this scared.
Probably not since I was a kid. I wasn’t scared because I thought Saint would do something to me if he caught me leaving his sister-in-law’s room.
I wasn’t scared of Saint, but I respected him.
If I was willing to stand ten toes down behind Ava, if I wanted to claim her for real, I wouldn’t have been sneaking around his house. I would’ve walked right through that motherfucker and dealt with whatever came behind it.
But I didn’t want that.
I got back to the den before Saint and Big A came in from the patio and dropped onto the couch. The room still smelled like liquor, hot wings, and whatever candle Zahra liked to burn in the evenings.
But all I could really smell was Ava. All I could really feel was Ava. I was high off her. That was the only way to describe it. And I hated she reached parts of me I didn’t trust, parts I kept locked up for a reason, parts that made me feel too much, think too much, and want too much.
So, I sat there and lied to myself. I told myself it was just sex, that I just missed the pussy. That was it. That was all.
I knew that was bullshit before I even finished thinking it.
Finally. Saint and Big A came back in smelling like good weed. Their eyes were low, red around the edges, and both of them were more relaxed than they had been before they went out back.
Big A dropped into the chair across from me while Saint flopped beside me on the couch just in time to catch the replay of a touchdown.
“Damn,” Saint muttered, grabbing the remote.
“Them niggas scored while we was outside? I had them covering the spread by six on FanDuel. Them scoring just fucked my whole ticket up.” He looked back at the TV with disgust. “I should’ve left that shit alone and just kept the money line in the parlay. ”
We watched the game in silence for a few minutes. I couldn’t focus, though. I wanted back in that room with Ava, back between her legs, with her smell suffocating me.
Then luckily Saint started talking business. “I ain’t gon’ lie. I’m ready for Project 83 to be done. I’m tryna see what that legal money really feel like once it starts rolling in heavy.”
Big A smirked. “You saying that like you hurting now.”
“The money hits different when it’s clean. Ain’t no ducking indictments or looking over your shoulder every five seconds. Just money showing up because something we built is standing there making it.”
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. “So, where are they with Project 83 right now?”
“It's moving how it’s supposed to. Demo’s been done.
Permits have cleared. The foundation is down, steel is coming up, and at this point, too much money and concrete are sitting in that ground for politics to just stop it.
They can still make noise, slow shit down, and create headaches, but shutting it down now would cause bigger problems for everybody tied to it. ”
“So, once they start going vertical, can’t nobody really kill it?” I questioned.
Big A shrugged. “They can.”
Fuck.
“But it won’t be easy,” Big A added. “They can still interfere, but by then, stopping it outright gets a lot messier.”
Saint looked at me then. “Why? What’s up?”
“Just asking.”
Big A snorted. “Bullshit.”
Saint watched me for a second, and then, as if he read my mind, he asked, “What’s wrong with Sienna?
” I just looked at him as he kept going.
“She’s smart, beautiful, seems to have a good head on her shoulders, and for a woman that want more from you, she at least ain’t moving like a crazy bitch.
She’s playing her role, and she’s playing it well. So, what’s wrong?”
I leaned back and looked toward the TV for a second before answering. “Ain’t nothing wrong with her.”
“Then what?” Big A asked.
I exhaled slowly. “I’m just not that type of nigga.”
Saint frowned. “What type?”
“The wife. The family. The real relationship shit. That ain’t me.”
Big A’s mouth twitched. “You're getting too old for that shit.”
“Aging doesn’t change the past,” I returned.
“I knew what it felt like to be left before I even knew what the fuck love was supposed to be. My father wasn’t in my life.
My mother dropped me off and disappeared.
My grandparents kept me alive, but that was about it.
So that whole family dream everybody be chasing?
” I shook my head in disgust. “That shit never sounded sweet to me. It sounds like a trap, pain, and one more setup to end up hurt or abandoned. I don’t want to do that to myself, a woman, or a kid.
” I stared at the game without really seeing it.
“Life doesn’t promise forever, that you won’t die on your people, that you won’t wake up one day and realize you don’t even like the person you tied yourself to.
And I’m not about to fake some deep-ass love I was never taught just because a woman look good and play her role. ”
Big A nodded once. “That’s real.”
Then he added, “At least you been disciplined about it. You don’t move reckless. You don’t leave women behind with babies they have to raise alone because you don’t want commitment.”
Saint took another sip of his drink. “So, you’re waiting for the build to get far enough that cutting Sienna loose don’t shake shit up?”
“Basically.”
Big A rubbed his jaw. “Then wait ‘till the first real phase is locked. Once the money too deep and the work too visible, Langford can’t start moving emotionally without fucking up his own image too.”
I leaned back again and fixed my eyes on the TV, though my mind had already gone back down the hall to Ava’s room, to her voice, her face, the way she looked at me with those beautiful, light, striking eyes like I made her just as mad as I made her wet.
Ava didn’t calm me. She didn’t just drive me crazy either.
She did both.