14. Kim
KIM
The second Deuce walked out of my condo earlier I completely fell apart.
No matter how many times I tried preparing myself mentally for what me and Deuce really were, moments like tonight still cut deep.
Especially after he grabbed me. He acted like I was a problem instead of somebody who loved him.
I sat curled up on my couch wearing one of his old T-shirts while the city lights glowed through my windows.
For the first time since getting involved with him I started feeling stupid.
I gave this man everything, my body, my soul and my loyalty.
And somehow, I still ended up being treated like the side effect instead of his woman.
I never planned on falling for him. At first Deuce was just supposed to be a target.
A trucking company owner my father wanted eyes on.
And Lord if I knew then what this situation would turn into, I would’ve run the other way fast as hell.
But Deuce had a way about him. That smooth confidence and hood charisma.
The way he looked at me like he already knew exactly what I needed emotionally and then the sex definitely complicated shit.
One drunken night turned into secret hotel stays. I rubbed my face hard trying not to cry again. Losing those babies changed something inside me permanently. Especially after the second miscarriage that one almost destroyed me.
Deuce stayed right beside me through it all.
That’s what made this situation worse emotionally.
He didn’t just treat me like some random side bitch behind closed doors he made me feel loved.
Tonight I saw the truth clearly Alisha would always come first. The sound of pounding on my front door snapped me out of my thoughts suddenly.
I already knew it was Deuce before I even looked through the peephole. Only Deuce knocked like he was ready to kick the damn door down. The second I opened it he pushed inside looking furious.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The Feds hit another shipment.”
“How bad?” I asked.
“Million dollars bad.”
He started pacing through my condo while rubbing his beard.
“The fuck your daddy know?”
“I don’t know!” I snapped.
“No,” he snapped, turning toward me. “You need to get him off my ass.”
“Deuce, I already told you I’m not involved in his investigation.”
“You started this shit!”
“I did not start this!”
“Your daddy did.”
“That’s not my fault!”
“The fuck it ain’t?”
The tension between us thickened. Seeing him this angry should’ve scared me more than it did. But all I could focus on was how far away he felt emotionally.
“You think I want this?” I snapped back finally. “You think I wanted the FBI involved in my relationship?”
“Relationship?” he laughed bitterly. “Kim my whole life collapsing right now.”
“So is mine!”
“No,” he barked louder. “You still got options. You got your family,” he continued pacing. “Your career, your freedom.”
“And what about you?”
“What ABOUT me?” He yelled in frustration.
“I love you!”
The emotion exploded before I could stop it. Deuce stopped pacing slowly. He looked exhausted and worn down.
“I know,” he mumbled.
I walked toward him slowly and this time when I touched his chest he didn’t move away.
“You don’t have to carry everything alone,” I whispered softly.
His jaw tightened. “I got it handled.”
“No you don’t.”
I slid my hands slowly up his chest while looking into his eyes trying to soften him and to reconnect with him emotionally. Trying to remind him we were still us underneath all this bullshit.
“Stay tonight,” I whispered.
For a second, he almost folded too. I saw the hesitation flicker through his face. Then suddenly his whole expression hardened again. And he stepped back from me.
“Nah.” He said.
“Why?”
“Cause this exactly how the fuck I got in this mess now.”
“So that’s what I am?” I snapped. “A mistake?”
“I ain’t say that.”
“You basically did.”
He grabbed his keys frustrated, already heading toward the door again.
“I ain’t doing this shit with you tonight.”
“There you go running back to Alisha.”
The second those words left my mouth, he stopped walking. Jealousy completely took over me right then. The kind built from years of feeling second place.
“She always gets you in the end,” I said bitterly.
Deuce looked back at me slowly.
“That’s my wife.”
Three words, that's all it took and somehow those three words hurt worse than everything else combined.
Because no matter how much history me and him built privately Alisha still held the title publicly.
She got the house and the family and legitimacy, while I stayed hidden in condos and penthouses like some damn secret.
Without another word, Deuce walked out. Leaving me standing there feeling emptier than ever.
About an hour later, I finally grabbed my phone and called my father. He answered after the second ring.
“Kimberly.”
“You busy?”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“I know.”
“What’s wrong?”
The concern in his voice almost made me emotional again. “Just wanted to talk.”
He knew me too well. I walked toward my kitchen pouring wine into a glass with shaky hands.
“How has your work been?” I asked.
“Busy.”
There it was that careful tone.
“You still investigating Deuce trucking company?”
“Why you asking?”
“I’m curious.”
“Kim.”
I closed my eyes briefly. Getting information from an FBI agent who also happened to be your father was harder than people thought.
“You think he guilty?”
“I think men like him eventually become sloppy.”
That answer made my stomach twist, because if my father was talking like that then he definitely had something.
“How close are y’all?” I asked carefully.
“Closer than he realizes.”
Fear crept through my chest hearing that. Despite everything going wrong between me and Deuce, I still didn’t want him destroyed.
“Daddy…”
“What?”
“If somebody cared about him…” I hesitated. “…would there be a way to help him?”
The line got quiet for a second then finally my father sighed heavily.
“You need to stay away from that man.”
“You don’t even know him.” I whined.
“I know enough.”
“You judging him because of his past.”
“No,” my father replied calmly. “I’m judging him because of his present. Are you emotionally attached to him?” my father asked suddenly.
Judging by his tone he already knew the answer.
“No.”
My father sighed again softly.
“Kimberly…”
That disappointed tone aggravated me. “I’m grown.”
“And making stupid decisions.”
“He loves me.”
“Married men love convenience all the time.”
I saw the conversation wasn’t going nowhere so I ended the call. My daddy was a very stubborn man and if he believed something you had to have concrete evidence why he was wrong.
A few days after that conversation with my father, I finally realized sitting around depressed over Deuce wasn’t helping shit.
If anything, it was making me lose my mind.
I barely slept or ate. I stayed replaying arguments in my head nonstop.
I was starting to hate the version of myself this situation created, emotional and needy.
Waiting around for a married man to decide where I fit in his life.
That wasn’t me at least it never used to be.
So, when my friend Milan called asking if I wanted to go out downtown, I agreed.
Mostly because I needed a distraction. By the time I finished getting dressed that evening, my mood had improved slightly.
I slipped into a fitted mocha-colored dress that hugged my curves perfectly and paired it with nude heels.
My long black hair pressed bone straight down my back.
Glossy lips and soft makeup. If I was gone be emotionally damaged, at least I was gone look good doing it.
“You finally outside again,” Milan teased the second I climbed into her Benz.
“Girl don’t start.”
“I’m serious, you been hiding.”
I shrugged looking out the window while downtown Detroit lights blurred past us.
“Just had a lot on my mind.”
“Mhm.”
That little sound told me she didn’t fully believe me, but thankfully she let it go.
Milan ended up taking us to Savannah Blue downtown.
The restaurant stayed packed with black professionals and couples everywhere.
Expensive perfume floating through the air.
It was the type of place where everybody looked successful and slightly toxic at the same time.
The second we sat down Milan grabbed the drink menu dramatically. “You need liquor.”
“I need therapy.”
“That too.” She laughed.
I laughed for the first time in days. Being around normal energy felt refreshing. For a while we just talked about work, men and social media drama. Eventually I started relaxing enough to stop thinking about Deuce every five seconds.
Then life decided to remind me it hated me.
Because right as I reached for my drink I looked up and froze.
There was Alisha of all people. She walked inside the restaurant looking beautiful as always.
Honey brown skin glowing underneath the dim lights with long curls flowing down her back.
Her thick body wrapped in dark jeans and a fitted cream top.
What the actual fuck were the odds? She hadn’t noticed me yet though.
Too busy talking to the hostess while holding her purse against her hip.
Then finally her eyes landed on me. For a second, we just stared at each other across the restaurant.
The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
After that night at the restaurant with Deuce I knew she’d been thinking about me. A woman's intuition rarely missed.
“Kim, right?” Alisha smiled politely walking over.
I forced a smile back. “Hey girl.”
“You mind if I sit for a second?”
Milan looked between us confused as hell while I nodded slowly.
“Sure.”
Alisha slid into the booth beside us gracefully but even while smiling I could feel the energy underneath it. Calculated and observant like she came over already knowing what she wanted to ask.
“How you been?” she asked casually.
“Good.”