Chapter 2 #2
Synthia is the kind of woman you feel crazy for letting go later on in life. I fumbled her the first time, and I'm not doing it again. I know her worth, and I need her to understand that she's not some sick ass fantasy for me.
"Knowing that I'll have you is worth the risk," I stated with honesty. "I ain't never been known to lie."
She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes searching my face.
"Tilt your head to the side for me," the doctor had instructed earlier, and I'd obeyed, all while keeping my eyes on Synthia. Watching her stiff demeanor. The way she held herself like she was trying to build a wall between us.
But I'd break that wall down. Brick by brick if I had to.
"But you aren't telling Trecee the truth about us either," she said now, her voice quiet.
"And you think I won't? She ain't asked me shit 'bout you."
"I feel so bad about this when I know I shouldn't, though. I ain't grimy like this."
"You think she wouldn't play checkers?" I shot back. "Trecee don't give a fuck 'bout nobody but herself. I know that shit firsthand. You know it too. Don't belittle your mind thinking I'm manipulating you either. The shit she pulled tonight proved that too."
Synthia scrunched up her face in confusion. "Huh?"
"Moriah called her tonight. Monterrius cooked some noodles and burnt the pot.
She wasn't going to answer the phone, though, even with Moriah calling back-to-back.
I got in her shit. Yolanda heard a mouthful from me too, but she wasn't there when none of that shit happened.
Yolanda didn't pull up until later on. You were the best thing that ever happened to your little cousins—more like a big sister than anything else.
You think I want to be 'round that type of bitch?
She wouldn't save her sisters and brothers from a burning building if it meant she had to.
That's a selfish ass bitch, and I don't feel sorry for what we're doing, so you shouldn't either. "
"A fire, and you're just now saying something?" she shrieked, her eyes widening. She yanked her wrist—forgetting again that the cuffs were off—and took a step back. "Romelo, what the fuck!"
"Chill out. I told you they're safe. They're at my house."
"I wouldn't trust that she's watching them, though. Even with her being there, they're responsible for themselves." She sighed, the weight of worry settling on her shoulders.
She was getting herself all worked up over nothing. I could tell. Her breathing quickened, and her hands started trembling.
"We'll figure something out," I said, stepping closer and placing my hands on her shoulders. Grounding her.
"I've always been their primary caregiver—helping them with homework and everything else.
Yolanda and Trecee are just unfit placeholders.
I wouldn't blink for two seconds with them around and trust that they'd care for them.
They're good kids, you know." Her voice cracked.
"When Yolanda put me out, it hurt them the most. They were losing something too, and all my auntie cared about was losing funds that she wasn't putting toward her household or on me anyway.
I cried for days after that—not because of the circumstances she put me in, but because I knew the outcome.
My cousins would get mistreated. There wouldn't be any home-cooked meals anymore, clean clothes for the school week, or making sure they'd get their homework done right.
Yolanda would chase men all the time and bring them over.
Trecee wanted out, and we'd talk about it all the time.
That girl used to be my best friend. I could vent to her about anything, but when she met you, all of that changed.
I hated you for that because you played a part in it.
I told myself, if a man changes you and has you imitating something or someone else, then he's no good for you. "
Her words hung in the air between us—heavy, honest, raw.
"You got that shit all wrong," I said quietly.
"I know that now." She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
We stood there for a moment, the night wrapping around us like a blanket. The compound was silent except for the sound of crickets and the distant hum of Roxx's generator.
Finally, I broke the silence. "Let's get out of here."
We exited the dungeon, and Roxx had to buzz us out. There was only one way in and one way out—by design. Though I knew the exit code, I didn't need Synthia seeing it. Not yet, anyway.
The drive back to my house was quick. The roads were empty this time of night, and I took the back way through the compound to avoid any nosy neighbors.
We came in the same way we left—through the garage.
"For my sake, can you not put those creepy ass metal bars up?" Synthia asked as I pulled into the garage and killed the engine.
I shot her a sadistic side-eye. "Not yet. I have to know that I can trust that you won't leave."
"I had an opportunity to leave earlier, and I didn't. I wouldn't get far, and you know that."
"You're right, but that don't mean you won't try a nigga."
"Romelo, if you almost killed yourself, I'm sure you won't hesitate to kill me," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"At least you know."
She looked at me then—really looked at me—and I saw something shift in her eyes. Fear, maybe. Or acceptance. I couldn't tell.
But I knew one thing for sure: she wasn't going anywhere.
This was only the beginning of a crazy ass love story between Synthia and me. I'd already played it out in my head over and over, and the outcome was still the same—we'd end up together, come hell or high water.
Trecee could remain in her position if she played her cards right, but Synthia would always remain number one.
If Trecee could see it through, she'd know better too.
But given that I'd seen her play a filthy hand—ignoring her siblings' calls, prioritizing herself over everyone else—I doubted that if I brought Synthia and me to the light, she'd be willing to come out on top by doing shit the right way.
Her pride would have her doing shit the wrong way.
And when that happened, I'd be ready.
A FEW DAYS LATER
I'd made my rounds—visited Reese at the prison, stopped by Telo Wireless to check inventory and handle some business with Javon, checked on Trecee's brothers and sisters to make sure they had everything they needed, and come back to the compound to hang out with Synthia.
Usually, a regular day would consist of me running the streets—meeting with connects, handling disputes, collecting money. But Synthia was consuming all of my time now, and I didn't mind. There were no days left for me to soak in my wealth, to flex, to do the shit I used to do.
If Synthia wasn't gracing me with her presence, if I wasn't suffocating her with mine, I didn't want to know what the outside life felt like anymore.
But lately, she'd developed a dark cloud around her.
Her standoffish ways had made their presence known.
She was eating less—picking at her food, pushing it around on her plate.
Giving dull conversations—one-word answers, distant stares.
When I'd try to pry anything out of her, she'd shrug and look off into the distance as if something else was on her mind.
Just when I thought I was stepping ten steps forward with her, I'd get pushed back twenty. She wasn't an easy target at all—unpleasantly different from what I'm used to.
Entering the house through the garage, I found her in the living room.
Surprisingly, she was seated downstairs instead of hiding in the guest room like she'd been doing for the past two days.
Her gaze was fixated on something playing on the television—some reality show with women screaming at each other.
I stared at her for a second, pondering my next move.
"Get dressed," I spoke over the loud noise blaring from my surround sound.
"What?" Her head snapped toward me, eyes wide. That woke her ass up from the dead.
"Oh, you can hear now, huh? That got yo bipolar ass talkin'?" I teased her, a grin spreading across my face.
She sucked her teeth, rolled her eyes, and gave the television back her undivided attention—ignoring me on purpose.
"Get dressed. Be ready in twenty minutes or however the fuck long it's gonna take for you to look pretty and shit."
"Where are we going?" she asked, not looking at me.
I walked off, staggering toward my bedroom. "Just do what you're told to do."
I needed to shower. My energy was sort of drained. Trecee and her nonstop complaining had worn me out. She'd been blowing up my phone all day—texting, calling, leaving voicemails. All of them said the same shit: Where are you? Why aren't you answering? We need to talk.
But I felt the need to kiss Synthia's ass instead. To make her smile. To pull her out of whatever funk she was in.
Trecee nagged about shit that didn't matter all the time, and I wasn't feeding into her bullshit anymore.
Our conversations weren't regular, and the topics she discussed were shit that pissed her off.
She was bitching about being anti-babysitting her sisters and brothers—complaining that they were cramping her style, that she had plans.
I'd silenced her calls and messages because I needed this time to myself. To relax. To focus on Synthia.
Feeling the hot water rain down my body, I got relaxed quick. I stood still, in no rush, and bent my head under the nozzle, letting the water beat against my scalp, my shoulders, my back. The heat loosened the tension in my muscles, and I closed my eyes, letting out a long breath.
Then I heard it.
The shower door opening.
I glanced over, my eyes turning to slits, and saw Synthia standing there—butt-ass naked. Her small hand was wrapped around the door handle as she pulled the glass door open and stepped inside.