Chapter 18 Karma
Karma
THE NEXT DUDE’S PROBABLY GOING TO BEAT YOUR fucking ass,” Paulie yelled at me.
I was single again and had zero interest in a new relationship. I was, however, on the prowl for a good time. I wonder if Paulie knew he completely jinxed me with those last words, because he was absolutely right.
I’m not a victim. I’m a survivor—in this relationship and in life.
And when this relationship came around, I was not a good person.
I know that now. Hell, I knew it then. But this man would humble me more than anyone deserves.
It was extreme and some of it was beyond what I could endure, but if life hadn’t humbled me the way this man was about to, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.
And for that, I’m eternally grateful to the universe for teaching me, stripping me of everything I knew or thought I knew, and pointing me in the right direction.
His name was Karma—a fitting name for the retribution that was coming to me after years of crushing hearts, doling out physical violence, and being just downright mean-spirited.
Everybody was scared of Karma. He was a gangster boss, and everyone knew that if you didn’t pay up, you knew what was coming for you.
His violent streak wasn’t a secret, and maybe it even added to his allure.
He was a rapper in a group that was getting a lot of attention at the time, and he had girls throwing themselves at him.
His ripped body was tatted up—including machine-gun bullets inked across his chest—and I was attracted to his darkness.
He was confident and cocky enough to be tall, dark, and handsome even though he was short.
It felt like nobody would fuck with you if you were with him, and I loved that.
People were scared of him for good reason.
He seemed powerful to me, like he had his life together, he was in total control.
That was exactly what I was looking for.
He would snarl his lip when he walked through a crowd, with his fists clenched, ready to fight at the drop of a dime.
He was the opposite of lover boy Paulie.
Paulie had a good heart. Karma had no soul.
But Karma talked a good game. He could talk your fucking panties off. Literally.
* * *
I’D MET KARMA A FEW times in passing as far back as when Eric and I were still together. We’d bought pills from him, of course, but I barely noticed Karma then. I definitely wasn’t thinking about him like that.
But by the time I’d kicked Paulie out, all-powerful Karma was looking like exactly what I needed—a one-night stand of excitement and fun. Then again, every time I tried to one-night-stand somebody, it always turned into a full-fledged, yearslong romance. Couldn’t a girl just have some fun?
I hit him up on Facebook and invited him to meet the girls and me out at a bar.
It took some convincing, and he seemed hesitant as we messaged back and forth.
No wonder—dealers can’t trust anyone, even women.
That only made me want him more. When he finally agreed and rolled in, I was hooked from the first look.
His no-fucks attitude, his swag in every step, and his style—my little black heart beat red.
I’m a sucker for an alpha male. He sat down with us, and I instantly straddled him.
“It’s about damn time,” I whispered.
“I thought you were setting me up,” he said, looking around at my girls.
“Why the fuck would I set you up?” I asked. “That’s crazy.” I wanted him there for me.
“I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful. I couldn’t imagine what you would want with somebody like me.”
Oh my god. Instantly wet.
The pull we had toward each other was magnetic, and everyone in that bar could feel it.
My girls already knew what was about to go down, so they were all whispering and snickering to each other.
We wasted no time—he was probably in my presence for no more than twenty minutes before I took his hand and led him into the bathroom—my body just moved automatically.
He threw me up against the wall like he knew exactly what I wanted and shoved his fingers inside me.
The next thing I knew, a tsunami was pouring out of me—a full flood, grab a bucket and a mop.
Then he bent me over and fucked me in the bathroom stall.
The entire floor was soaking wet. He pulled out, turned me around and kissed me as hard as he could, and whispered “Let’s go outside.
” Totally dickmatized, I wasted no time throwing my clothes back on and running outside with him.
We finished out in his car and collapsed in shock and silence.
What the fuck just happened? It was so electric that neither one of us could put it into words.
I got my ass up and sent him on his way—I’d gotten what I wanted.
But ten minutes later, we were blowing up each other’s phones.
bro, you’re so fucking hot
you’re my dream girl. what the fuck just happened? that was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me
He knew exactly what to say—and it was the start of him being obsessed with me with a hands around your throat kind of passion. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I wanted more of it.
* * *
AFTER THAT NIGHT, WE WERE together every day. I think we were both looking for an intoxicating high for our shattered dopamine receptors. I was his drug and he was my fix.
The first three months were basically perfect.
We’d go out every night, and he really brought me out of my shell.
Nobody believes me, but I’m actually a homebody by nature.
But all it took was for him to tease me a little .
. . What are you, fucking eighty-four? and I’d put on my heels, do my makeup, and slap on a cute outfit for a night on the town.
He was fun, and for the most part we mirrored each other. Two perfectly reflected psychos.
One night, we were so trashed that when we came home, I poured baby oil all over us and we just slid over and under each other and fucked for hours.
I always say that dick is my love language and I’ve had chemistry with tons of dudes, but I’d never had such an intense sexual connection with anyone as I did with Karma.
It was like we were animals clawing at each other.
We got high off each other’s pheromones.
He made me feel like I was the only girl in the world, totally protected for the first time in my life.
If a dude texted me, he’d text back. Lose her number dork.
If a man approached me, all he had to do was walk into view and they’d cower.
I loved it. No one could get to me unless they went through him.
I was so caught up in this totally addictive haze that I didn’t question anything.
There were so many red flags staring me right in the face, but honestly, I closed my eyes.
There were rumors that he was a pimp, but I didn’t believe them.
He knew what I did for a living and would give me money just so I didn’t have to work at night and could stay with him.
And where I’m from, the game doesn’t work like that.
A pimp would never pay a girl—especially not to go to work.
And when I asked him, he always denied it.
His exes reached out to me and said he tried to break them—to become their pimp—or take their money.
But being the complete narcissist I was, I truly felt like I was the one to change him. He wouldn’t be like that with me.
Whenever we went out to strip clubs, I did notice that Karma had an unusual number of women around. Instead of asking questions, I befriended them all and we always had a great time. Who doesn’t want tons of gorgeous women adorning their table?
There was one girl who was constantly in the mix, Cindy, and I couldn’t quite see where she fit in.
She didn’t look like Karma’s regular girls or anything like me.
She was homely and quiet, and he told me they’d been best friends since tenth grade.
Now, I’d only just shown up decades later, so who was I to ask questions?
To be honest, she was no threat. She was always sweet to me and literally catered to Karma’s every need.
So she made my life easier. I wasn’t trying to be anyone’s wifey. I thought Cindy was my friend.
I’d stay at his house nightly, and she always slept in the other room. I knew she could hear us fucking, but she never seemed bothered by it and would even cook us breakfast in the morning. I honestly was baffled. Where the fuck do I find a bestie like this?
When we hit the three-month mark, his facade came crashing down. He had painted a picture of being a boss, moving weight, and having his shit together for months. And from what I saw, he wasn’t lying—until all the pieces started coming together.
* * *
IT WAS THE GIRLFRIEND OF Karma’s friend who told me the truth.
“Bunnie, you know that Cindy isn’t just Karma’s friend, right?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “They’re best friends.”
“No, that’s his girlfriend. That’s his main bitch, they’ve been together for twenty years, girl.”
Those words hit me like a slap in the face. How the fuck could I have not seen it? There’s no way!
“Yeah girl. She funds his entire life. Her daddy is some big-shot doctor out here, and they con him out of money all the time.”
What the fuck?
Now I was seeing red. How could he do that to her? And me? I absolutely hate being the last to know when it comes to shit like this. I drove straight to his house and ran up the stairs. He greeted me with a smile. I laid it out for him, but he didn’t seem bothered.
“Who told you that?” I told him, and he picked up the phone and called his friend.
“Check your bitch,” he said, and hung up. He didn’t even put up a fight. He just admitted it: Behind closed doors, they were together—they’d been together since they were sixteen.