9. Uzi Reaves #3
I loved that my husband was such a manly man, but when it came to me, and his kids, he knew how to throw that tough shit out of the way and be to us what we needed him to be.
I didn’t want to always be talked to aggressively.
I needed my husband to be my soft spot. The one who coddles me.
The one that assured me that shit was going to get better in my life when it felt like it was going down.
Loco has always been that for me. Years later, he was still that, and that’s why I loved him the way that I did.
“I’ll air the whole city out for you. You know that. You want me to kill that nigga?” he asked, and I laughed, even though I knew he was dead ass serious.
Any time I stressed to my husband about something, his resolution was always asking me if I needed him to kill somebody.
The fact that he wasn’t smiling, proved to me that he was dead ass serious.
If I told him yes, he would fuck me right quick, get a couple of nuts off, and he would leave the house, in search of Tamera’s husband.
“It’s okay, Papi. You don’t have to,” I told him, eyes on him, admiring his handsome face.
I leaned my head up, so that he could put the blunt to my lips, and once he did, I took a long pull, blew the smoke out, and then I crashed my lips into his.
The kiss was nasty that we shared. Nothing was off limits when it came to the way that we showed affection towards one another, so I let a little spit go into his mouth, which he gladly accepted, and we were back tongue kissing.
The kiss went on for about a minute straight, and when we finished, I turned back around, so that I could plant my back against his chest again.
I hummed to the music that was playing on the speakers, and right when I felt like I was mentally prepared to start riding dick, and have my husband bury himself deeply into my guts, that’s when my phone started ringing on the side of the tub.
I looked down at the screen, and I saw that it was Benelli facetiming me.
“Don’t answer that shit. We busy,” Loco said from behind me, leaning his head down, and kissing my neck.
“One minute, papi. Let me just see what she wants,” I told him, and of course, he sucked his teeth from behind me.
When it came to my sisters, I couldn’t ignore a phone call.
Call me crazy, but I could be in the middle of sucking dick, and I’ll answer the phone.
I live with severe PTSD. Being in the streets, losing people, and knowing the bad that can come your way, it will fuck with your head.
I’ve been out of the game for years now, but certain fears, and mindsets just never leave you.
“What’s up?” I answered the phone for Benelli.
Judging by her background, I could tell that she was outside in her backyard. I made sure that I kept the phone high enough, so that it only showed my face, and not my body.
“Make that shit quick, man. We about to start fuckin, and the way I’m feeling, I don’t care if I gotta do that shit with you on the phone. You always call at the most fucked up times bruh,” Loco talked shit to my sister.
The two of them were hell. They cursed each other out for sport. I genuinely believed that Loco enjoyed getting his ass cursed out by Benelli because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t constantly fuck with her the way that he did.
“Boy, fuck you! I’m calling to talk to my sister,” Benelli snapped on him, and I’m telling you, Loco got pleasure out of this because he was behind me laughing.
“Ay, I run the show over here. If I tell her to hang up that motha fuckin phone, she going to hang up the phone,” he kept on.
“Loco, stop. Benelli, what’s up? Is it at least just five minutes worthy? If it’s going to take longer than five minutes, I can just call you back,” I said, ready to go into pound town myself, but at the same time, I was itching to see what it was that my sister was calling me about.
“You been on social media today? Phantom is out here on the grill, and I was strolling, and I went down the rabbit hole, looking at different posts that people are sharing about Yolanda’s fiancé.
Girl, this nigga been at clubs, lounges, buying bottles, throwing money on strippers, and he just bought a Lamborghini.
I just don’t get how the fuck he’s doing this shit when it’s only been four months since his fiancé was murdered!
Man, if somebody killed Phantom, Uzi, they would have to put me in a fuckin psych ward.
Four months is too soon. Then, in one of the videos, he already out with a new bitch.
How can he move on so fast like that? They going to have to investigate that nigga as a possible suspect.
It’s no way your fiancé was just murdered a few months ago, and you already outside like that.
No way in hell,” you could hear the anger in Benelli’s voice, which I wasn’t surprised about because her and Yolanda were good friends.
When it made the news about her death, Benelli took the news hard.
I knew she would, and that’s why when I found out about it, I didn’t call her and tell her.
I waited until she saw it on her own. She saw it hours later, and she called me screaming on the phone, crying, truly heartbroken about what happened to Yolanda.
Four months later, and they still never found the men that pulled up on her and killed her in front of her boutique.
“That is weird. Weird as hell. I’m not defending him, but you don’t think that’s his way of grieving? You know everybody grieves differently,” I wanted to be careful on what I said to her because I knew this was something that Benelli was going to be sensitive about.
She lost a friend, and months later, we didn’t have answers. When I said what I said, she sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at me.
“He’s grieving by already fuckin other hoes, buying a six-figure car, and being in and out the club every other night? Yeah, let me hang up on you before I curse your ass out,” she snapped on me, and before I could even get a word in, this bitch hung the phone up on me.
I swear if I wasn’t about to fuck, I would have called her ass back, and cursed her out for hanging up on me, but I allowed her to have that.
“You know that I didn’t mean it like that, right? I’m not excusing the shit that he’s doing, but it is true what I said. People do grieve differently, right? I shouldn’t have said that, huh?” I asked him, turning around in his lap, so that I could straddle him.
“You right. You just didn’t say what she wanted to hear at the moment.
When shit cools down, call her back. I don’t think she meant to snap and hang up the phone on you like that.
She lost a friend. Somebody she was close with is no longer here.
She was gunned down, and I’m sure she’s just still feeling the motions behind that, and it don’t make the shit any better that we still don’t know who did it.
I don’t know Yolanda’s fiancé, but damn, you think he’s the kind of nigga that needs to get looked at as a potential suspect?
What is it that he does for a living?” Loco wanted to know.
“They loved each other. One of the last times that I was at her boutique, she was telling me how happy she was with him. I’m not sure what it is that he does for a living, but I know he has money.
That’s the only kind of men that Yolanda dealt with.
I know it’s some crazy men out here, but you think he would go to that extent of having his fiancé murdered?
” I asked him, cocking my head to the side, trying to see if that was something that would even make sense.
“Shit. I don’t know. I can’t speak on that. I didn’t know bruh,” Loco said, and his response was understandable.
I dropped it, and the second he put the blunt out, I leaned my head in, and I went right for his neck.
I placed soft kisses on it, and sucks. My hand dropped down into the water, getting a hold of his dick, and I sensually started stroking it.
A low moan escaped his lips. I swear, the second that I lifted my hips, so that I could plant myself on his dick, there was light knocks on our bathroom door.
“What the fuck, man! Didn’t I tell your ass to lock the fuckin bedroom door? I told you one of them was going to come looking for us,” Loco snapped.
I didn’t even have a rebuttal because before we got in the tub, he did tell me to lock the door, but I got sidetracked and forgot to do it.
“Ma! Ma, what you doing? You said you was going to help pick my outfit out tomorrow for picture day!” Lil Loco’s teenaged voice boomed from the other side of the door.
Lil Loco was a mama’s boy in every sense of the word.
He thought that he was so damn grown at fourteen years old, but he was the child that needed me for every little thing.
Granted, he could pick out his own look for picture day tomorrow, but he knew that I had style, and that I was into fashion, so he often came to me when he was looking to put different looks together.
“Boy, if you don’t pull out a shirt and some jeans and call it a day. Your mama busy,” Loco snapped. You could see the annoyance on his face because both times when he tried to get some pussy, he was interrupted.
“Aight. Just come in my room when you done then,” he said, and I could hear his footsteps as he walked away from the door.
“You’re so grouchy tonight. My pussy that good, nigga?” I asked him, not wasting any time because I lifted, and I sat right down on it, moaning the whole way down because that shit felt so fuckin good.
“You know that shit that good. Four kids were put into you for a reason,” he responded, his large hands going down for my ass, guiding me, as I went up and down on that dick.