18. DANE
“So, are we just gon’ ride the whole way to London in silence?”
Kady’s question drew a scowl on my face as she entered the lounge area. Angelo glanced at her, too, and immediately found his way out of the lounge. He wasn’t trying to be caught dead in the vicinity of Kady.
Her team had some nerve asking me to let them ride with me at the last fucking minute.
Initially, I told them no. Then I got another call from her agent, whom I owed a favor or two.
Even though Kady’s team was in tow, if Justina knew I was on this jet with Kady, she’d kill me.
Which was why I’d been texting Justina since I agreed to let Kady and her crew fly with me.
Justina had yet to respond to my messages.
I chalked it up to a signal issue, so I didn’t trip.
However, by hour five into my flight, Justina still hadn’t replied to my messages.
I attempted to sleep but couldn’t do so until I heard from my baby.
So, I was at the bar, trying anything to keep myself from turning this jet around.
Kady ordered a drink from the bartender and chuckled. “Damn, Lil’ Miss Perfect got you trained, huh?”
To that, I had to address Kady. As always, she was on some messy shit. Although fine as fuck, she was one bitch I was grateful I never fucked.
“Lil’ Miss Perfect is exactly who she thinks she is,” I said. “And I’d suggest you keep her name out ya mouth.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Ooh, you don’t play about her,” she joked. “She told me that the two of you are married. Is that true?”
“Mrs. Richards ain’t ya fuckin’ business, shawty. Neither am I. Now get on ‘fore I kick you off my fuckin’ jet. While we in the fuckin’ air.”
Kady turned her nose up, grabbed her drink, and stormed off.
Shaking my head, I wasn’t about to play with Kady.
A minute of my time was one minute too long.
I would never have Justina out here thinking I was unfaithful to her.
I would never let the narrative build. I’d kill a bitch before I let her come between Justina and me.
Hours later, I arrived in London and wasted no time calling Justina as the driver took us to the villa I owned here. It was nearly five by the time we made it to the villa. As I expected, the villa was sparkling clean, the food was stocked, the floors were pristine, and the grounds were manicured.
“You good?” Angelo asked. “You looked worried on the flight.”
“I can’t get in touch with Justina,” I said as I entered the villa.
Just then, a message came through my phone.
Just Me & U: Listen, I had a great time with you, but it’s best that we part ways.
The fuck? I thought.
I dialed Justina’s number so fast, dizziness swept over me. She sent me to voicemail again.
Me: Nah, that ain’t gon’ work, baby. If this is about Kady, I swear to you I’m not on bullshit. You know I’m not.
Just Me & U: No, it’s not about her. This is my decision. I can’t do this with you.
I called her again because she had life fucked up if she thought we were done. Again, her voicemail clicked on. I growled like a maniac. She knew I hated when she didn’t answer her fuckin’ phone.
Me: Justina, answer my call, bruh. Real shit.
“You look like you about to pass out, bruh. Sit down,” Angelo urged.
I plopped down on the couch and rubbed my chest. It felt like an elephant was sitting on me.
Attempting to do anything I could to get to Justina, I went to IG to contact her.
I rarely went on social media, so I wasn’t surprised to have hundreds of messages, mentions, and tags waiting for me.
Everyone was losing their minds over seeing Justina and me linked up.
Frustrated that she had me blocked, I wanted to strangle her ass.
“My fuckin’ chest hurts bad as shit,” I mumbled. My head hurt like hell too. They hurt so badly that I wondered if the stress of the last few days had finally begun to take its toll.
“You need to go to the hospital,” Angelo suggested.
For whatever reason, the more I thought about how bad my chest and head hurt, the more those muthafuckas hurt. Then nausea took over. Last thing I wanted to do was die on foreign soil. Hannah would kill me.
One phone call and four hours later, I looked at the doctor like he was stupid. I could’ve sworn his ass just told me that my heart was fine.
“Ain’t no fuckin’ way,” I stated. “I felt that shit. I know I had a heart attack.”
Dr. Horton looked at me over the rim of his tiny ass glasses and chuckled. “No disrespect, Mr. Richards, but I’ve been a cardiologist for thirty years. Why do you think they called me instead of the cardiologist who’s on call?”
“They wanted to be sure,” Angelo said.
“They wanted to be sure,” Dr. Horton reiterated. “Now. We’ve done a chest X-ray, echocardiogram, an MRI of your brain, and an ultrasound of your heart. We’ve done the necessary blood work, and none of your cardiac markers are elevated. This could’ve been a fluke.”
“That’s yo’ fuckin’ diagnosis, bruh? A fluke?” I quizzed.
“Would you like me to make something up?” he questioned.
I grilled him.
He shrugged. “Didn’t think so. I’ll have you out of here in a second.” He disappeared out the door, leaving me with Angelo.
I rubbed my chest, thankful that I was okay but confused about the pain I felt. Honestly, I was a little scared it would return.
“Wait… You remember when I joked about how serious you were about Justina?” Angelo asked.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Nigga, it’s deeper than I thought.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You love her. Like really love her,” he surmised.
“No shit, nigga. The fuck you think I'm doin' all this shit for?"
He waved me off. “What I’m saying is, you need to get back to Miami and get yo’ girl before you really do croak over.”
As much as I agreed with Angelo, we had work to do. “We gotta solidify this deal,” I stated.
“Bruh, fuck UMR. If you don’t get back to Justina, you ain’t gon’ be around long enough to do any fuckin’ thing.”
Yeah, he was right. I had to get back to Justina. The sudden loss of her presence and voice was about to take me out. This was further proof that I had to have Justina in my life. It was no longer a matter of want. I needed her. It was life or death.