Chapter Seven
ROMELO “ROME” JONES
The blunt was halfway gone when I finally felt my shoulders drop. The storm had passed through, leaving the sky grey and heavy with clouds that ain’t have the energy to do shit lingering. I stood on the balcony, smoke curling from my lips, watching it disappear into the air.
I haven’t had a blunt in a while, but I needed it the most right now.
Trecee shook the fucking table, but her bullshit can get put on the back burner.
I almost lost the love of my fucking life.
In the blink of an eye, shit was crashing down on me.
I’ve made my bed and now it’s time for me to lay in it.
Gladly. I’ll do it and get cozy as fuck in it.
I don’t regret shit because if God gave me an opportunity in another lifetime to get shit right the first time, I’ll choose Synthia again.
Trecee leaving is a breath of fresh air for me.
She was annoying — like a tick in my ass — bugging the fuck out of me.
If she thought I was gon’ feel a pang of hurt by her packing her shit and getting the fuck on down, then she was wrong.
As fucked up as it sounds, I don’t feel remorseful for shit I did.
I took another pull, held it in my lungs, and exhaled slow.
I felt like I’d shed a few pounds without her weighing me down.
Being able to finally breathe without her suffocating me with expectations and bullshit is a fucking relief.
All that pretending, fake-ass smiling and kissing on me — shit was exhausting. I’d grown tired of that shit.
The last few months with her were disappointing, but I can’t say that I didn’t try to get it right.
She was used to being coaxed with the finer lifestyle I offered her while only doing the bare minimum to afford what I provided on her own.
She wanted to be primped and polished and didn’t want to reciprocate that energy financially.
Trecee wanted to paint an image of us that no longer existed — a version that turned to ashes a long time ago.
The way she screamed at me when I choked her. When her eyes rolled to the back of her head didn’t hurt me. It made me turn cold. For a while now, I was sacrificing my peace for her comfort, and that shit was draining me.
Toking the blunt one last time, I exhaled then flicked the ash over the railing before putting the blunt out. The villa was quiet now. No nagging ass attitude — huffing and puffing. No walking on eggshells around somebody who ain’t never appreciated shit.
Putting the blunt behind my ear, I heard the soft pad of footsteps behind me.
Bare feet on the tile. I didn’t have to turn around, but I felt her presence.
I smelled the sweet scent of peaches too, lingering heavy in the air.
Then her arms wrapped around my waist and I felt her cheek smashed into my bare back.
Then her warm breath rushed down my spine before she kissed it.
Then her hands splayed across my stomach and I could feel her running her hands along the ridges of my six-pack, tracing the squares.
“You’ve been out here for a while. What are you out here doing?” she asked.
I craned my neck to glance over my shoulder.
“I’m gone to the moon,” I joked, getting a giggle out of her.
“Ain’t no way had I flown traditionally they’d allowed me to stash this fye ass shit.
” I grabbed the blunt from behind my ear and glanced down at it, holding it between my index finger and thumb.
My eyes were low now, but the aftereffects had kicked in a while ago.
This shit was lethal. If selling phones wasn’t my main hobby, I could become a dope dealer and bring generational wealth — enough money to become the president if I wanted to.
“I smelled it all the way out here,” Synthia mentioned, taking the blunt from between my fingertips. “Where’s the lighter?”
I grabbed the lighter from the pocket of my jeans and passed it to her.
Adjusting my posture, I positioned my body to the side, still leaned over the railing though, and glanced over at her.
She toked the blunt and took a puff. The orangish-red blaze, lit from the tip of the blunt, cast a glow on her face before she exhaled.
“Shit,” she coughed, scrunching up her face while looking at the blunt. “Damn!”
“Rookie. Gimme my shit,” I grinned and snatched it from her. “Over here wastin’ good weed. The fuck is wrong wit’ you!”
“I wasn’t expecting it to be strong like that,” she responded, her voice groggy.
“That’s ’cause you used to that gas station weed,” I joked.
“Shut up,” she giggled once her coughing subsided.
I pulled from the blunt again before exhaling the smoke into the air, my eyes forming a squint.
“You ain’t supposed to be out here no way. You’re supposed to be resting.”
Removing from behind me, she joined me and leaned over the railing, her curly hair flowing in the wind.
“I did rest.”
“How you feeling?”
“I feel better,” she cut her eyes at me, giving me a closed-mouth smile. “Thank you for saving me. I didn’t know what happened—”
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” I downplayed. It wasn’t a favor. Saving her saved my life too. “I didn’t know yo ass couldn’t swim.” I held the blunt out for her to take it, but she declined it.
“The instructor said the chances of falling off the boat were slim. I don’t know what happened.”
“The instructor said if you start to feel sick, we’d have to stay out here for aftercare for a few days. Just let me know if you’re feeling any different than you are now.”
“I will.”
“I’m serious, Synthia,” I warned her as I put the blunt out.
She didn’t rebuttal. The silence that rested between us was loud, like the sound of the ocean and the birds flying above us.
“So she really left, huh?” she spoke up, cutting the silence in half.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
“Romelo, that’s not the way I wanted her to find out,” she said, twiddling with her thumbs.
“Well, how would you have preferred it?” I asked, my tone laced with sarcasm.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“It ain’t gon’ make shit better. There ain’t no better time than now.”
“The day before her birthday, though,” she scoffed in disbelief.
“You blamin’ me for how shit turned out or sum’?” My tone was gruff. “Either way, I don’t give a fuck how shit turned out. Shit was bound for her to find out. Her feelings ain’t on my list of priorities right now.”
“Am I human for feeling bad?”
“Yeah, that’s just a flaw that you need to work on,” I mumbled.
“So, what’s next?”
“Whatchu’ mean?”
“Meaning like what’s next for us? We get to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.”
“Ain’t that how shit works? Don’t start flaking out on me now because Trecee shed a few tears, acting this shit out like a Tyler Perry play. It’s too late for you to be bowing out anyway. We in this shit for life, Juicy. It’s just that simple.”
“Have you thought about my living arrangements?”
My brow rose. “What about ’em?”
“I don’t want to stay in that house with you forever. I want my own shit—”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you holding something over my head. I’ve always been independent, and I never had to be codependent. I don’t know what that’s like,” she expressed, talking with her hands.
“I don’t want you to leave me,” I hissed.
“You already have access to me, Romelo. I can’t take it back. I just want freedom, and I want to do things on my terms,” she stated, stabbing her finger into her chest. “You’ve had it your way and locked me in that house for weeks.”
“You feel comfortable going back to that shithole in South Memphis?”
“Fuck you, nigga,” she chuckled. “I pay to live comfortable, not above my means.”
“I’m just fuckin’ wit’ you,” I chuckled with her, scratching the back of my neck, thinking about granting her wishes.
“If you want it, I’ll get it for you—”
“No,” she said in a sharp tone. “I want to get it. You can break my lease at my house.”
“How long is your lease for?”
“Six more months.”
I nodded my head. “How far are you behind?”
“Just two months. He wants me to pay him interest. I’m sure I have a notice to evict on my door by now.”
“So what you was gon’ do had boosting iPhones worked out like you thought it would?” I interrogated her, interested in her backup plan.
She sighed before answering. “Pay up my rent for at least another month. If the money was coming in how Allen broke it down to me, then I was going to thug it out until my lease was over and move.”
I nodded, seemingly impressed by her plan.
“You’d be six feet under with that nigga if I didn’t like yo fine ass.”
“Whatever, nigga,” she laughed, playfully hitting my side.
“You tested my gangsta,” I side-eyed her.
Scooting closer to me, she cloaked her small hands around my waist and nestled her head on my stomach. My lanky frame towered over her small one.
“Isn’t that what your woman is supposed to do? Your woman should be allowed to test your gangster and take you to heights where no one else has. You have to be putty in my hands — soft as tissue,” she spoke charmingly in a sweet tone.
“Soft as tissue, huh,” I tittered.
Placing the blunt behind my ear again, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer, then bent my head down to kiss her forehead.
Taking shit further, I removed my hands from around her body and gripped her face.
My lips melted against hers as I slid my tongue between them, toying around with hers like I was trying to tie a knot.
We didn’t pull back until we were both satisfied, breathing heavy.
“You scared?” she asked after a little while.
“A little,” I admitted. “But I’m more afraid of losing this — losing you.”
“You won’t.”
I tightened my hold on her. “I’ll kill you if that’s what it takes.”
“I don’t want you to love me that hard. I don’t want you choosing life or death.”
“Then don’t make me,” I said. “Death is better than life if I can’t be wit’ you.”
“You scare me sometimes, Romelo,” she stated against my lips, the smell of weed heavy on her breath.
“Good, because you’re stuck wit’ me now. In this life and the next,” I stated, sealing it with another peck to her kissable lips.
I meant what I said. There ain’t no flaking on how I feel. I’m more afraid of the possibility of Synthia letting go amid our choices of shit being taboo, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.