Chapter 27 #3
“‘Cause you single an’ the nigga out to have you as his woman. Basically, it was my way of sayin’, ‘May the best man win you’.
I ain’t finna go out my way to win you fo’ the new August. I’mma just show you him.
Who you choose, Mona, is who you choose,” I semi-lied as I flew by the wedding venue with multiple lighters flickering.
Nawl, I ain’t stoppin’. I said all I need to say … fo’ nih, I thought as Mona’s gloved hand found mine. Spreading my fingers, hope slithered around me about us reuniting our family better than ever.
Driving around a steep curve, I relaxed and said, “I hope you in the mood fo’ lobster, steamed shrimp, T-bone steak, stuffed baked potato, an’ Chef’s salad. Dessert lemon meringue pie wit’ pecans.”
“Oh, so your ass is going all out for me, huh?” she teased cutely.
Sitting upright in the seat, I glanced at her and chuckled. “Fuck nawl, I ain’t going all out fo’ you. I’m going all out fo’ me ‘cause a nigga tired of eatin’ bologna sandwiches an’ MREs. You just so happen to be the only female I need to be ‘round.”
“Damnnn, it’s like that August Abbott.” She giggled as my phone rang a peculiar tune.
Nodding, I said, “Hell yeah, it’s like that. Hold that thought. Got a call comin’ in.”
Arriving at the stop sign that would take me onto the main highway to reach the highest point in Denver, Colorado, I tapped the small circular button on the Bluetooth device.
“Talk to me,” I announced, skirting from the stop sign, hitting interesting speeds within two breaths.
Mona’s grip on my hand became tighter as the caller asked, “Where are you?”
“On the main highway, leavin’ from pickin’ up my package,” I answered as dishes clashed in the caller’s background.
“Okay. Everything’s in place. Enjoy,” the caller replied coolly as a lighter flickered in the background.
“Thanks.” I breathed sincerely, flying through a green light.
“Call over.”
“Ended call,” I responded with ease, trying not to smile and look at the intrigued woman who never removed her eyes from me.
“You need music to help you put things right in yo’ head?”
Mona nodded and stuttered, “I do.”
“Press play. I think one of yo’ favorite songs up next,” I ordered, needing to set the truck right so my high speeds wouldn’t have police lights flashing behind me.
As Pastor Troy’s “Who, What, When, Where” slid around the truck, I raised the vehicle at a considerable rate where Mona wouldn’t notice it. Upon the beat dropping, I increased the speaker’s frequency and gradually dropped the front end.
In the passenger seat, cluelessly as fuck when she shouldn’t have been, I chuckled and kissed the back of the rapping woman’s gloved hand.
Once she relaxed in the seat and rocked harder than the beat knocking through the seats, I zipped through all the green traffic lights, eager to wine and dine her inside of an eight-bedroom, six-bathroom chalet.
When we arrived at the stunning wall of glass, soaring vaulted ceilings, and a stone hearth that revealed shiny, polished wood beams, Mona shot upward and shut off the radio. I laughed because that was my reaction when I arrived on the private property.
Pointing toward our destination for four hours only, Mona screeched, “Now, what the hell are you doing in a place like this? I know damn well you aren’t making enough money to lay up in this bitch.”
Opening the second garage door, I exhaled. “When you surround yo’self wit’ people who different from you, doors open. I’m in a buildin’ I ain’t gon’ ever leave. It’s too damn good fo’ me, our kids, an’ the woman who loves me.”
While Mona looked around the garage, which had changed drastically since I spoke to those about what I needed for the night, a nerve-wracking tune skated into my ears. Parking six inches from the black shelves filled with miscellaneous shit, I tapped the earbud and reached for the doorknob.
“Hold on fo’ a second,” I spoke to August Junior.
As he responded, I looked at Mona. She was reaching for the door handle. I tapped her arm and said, “You never reach fo’ another doorknob. I help you get into a vehicle; I help you out. Seal an’ done wit’ it.”
“Oh,” she stammered, shocked.
“She’on know what to do.” The weary kid chuckled as I stepped out of the truck.
Closing the door, I replied, “Nope. She thinkin’ heavily. What’s up?”
“To tell you to have a good night and good luck on making her an Abbott just like the rest of us,” August Junior coached as I rounded the passenger side of the truck.
“Thank you. You have a good night, too. Stay off the first flo’. You should have enough food an’ drinks on the second flo’,” I demanded, stepping next to the passenger door wishing I could see Mona’s face.
“I will.” He yawned as I reached for the door handle.
“Sleep tight, Son. I love you.” I exhaled deeply, loving the newness between us. I was confident a breakthrough would occur for us to sever the bond that bound us so tightly.
“Love you more, Dad,” he said as a chip bag popped in his background. “Call over.”
“Ended call,” I responded as Mona gazed up at me, smiling.
Leaning into the truck, I unbuckled the seatbelt and asked, “What’s wit’ that grin?”
“Just scoping out what I’m seeing. I’m liking it,” she cooed as I slid my hand into hers.
“Come on. We got a few hours befo’ that cake gon’ take effect an’ Azaria gon’ show her ass.” I chuckled, pulling her out of the car.
“What if I want to stay the night?” she asked as I closed the door. I would’ve loved for her to stay over, but it wouldn’t go well with capturing her for life, again.
Walking toward the floor-to-ceiling connecting garage door, I looked down at the beauty staring up at me.
Her eyes begged me to answer the way she wanted.
My heartstrings made me want to say yes hard and long, but I shook my head, smiled, and said, “I won’t let it happen.
We courtin’ in a sense. I need to get things right this time wit’ all the shit that I know ‘bout the old me an’ new me.
We gon’ enjoy the few hours we have ‘til I come scoop you up again.”
Sadness crowded her face as she planted her left hand on her belly.
Pushing her in front of me, I wrapped my arms around her and said, “Don’t look like that.
We have to start at the bottom, Mona. It’s best. I need you to not look at me as yo’ ex-husband or father to our kids.
You need to see me as a man tryin’ to capture yo’ heart, soul, an’ mind.
Wipe away everything you know ‘bout me. I mean everything. Can you do that?”
When we landed at the door, she nodded and exhaled sharply. “I can.”
“Good.” I breathed against her neck and opened the door.
Her body synced to mine as SiR featuring Masego’s “Ooh Nah Nah” and different flower petals greeted us with the scent of sweet, friendly love. Mona, being Mona, danced erotically into the kitchen, which I prayed was set up romantically enough for acquaintances, enjoying a meal and a few dances.
Wrapping her arms around my neck, Mona swayed her hips and rolled her ass.
Cloaked Head came from under his blanket, ready to dive into his home.
Closing the door with my foot, I followed her seductive movements.
Dragging my nails around her belly, we descended.
She rocked to the right, flopping her ass; I leaned to the left and thrust.
“Mmm,” I groaned, missing the fuck out of my girl.
The more we danced, the closer we arrived to the candlelit kitchen meant for a chef.
My grin was massive as the job of romance, friendship, and lust rolled from every part of the separated rose stems dropped here and there.
Hershey kisses candy, and small vanilla-scented candles decorated the table and countertops.
Upon the song’s closure, Mona stopped dancing. Her nails slid down my neck as she cooed, “This is gorgeous, August. When did you have the time to do all of this?”
“Throughout the day, I had help,” I answered, escorting her to the farther side of the high-rise kitchen table surrounded by six chairs and a bench.
As I pulled out the chair, Methrone’s “Panties Off” took Mona straight to fuck-all-this-shit. I tried to conceal my laughter as she placed the right side of her face and hands on the table. Sensually, she frogged her legs, arched her back and lifted the lower half of her body.
“Oooohhhh!” she sang, rolling her hips as if she were on my dick.
“Um, Mona,” I stammered as my dick stiffened more.
“Oooooh!” she sang deeper while sliding up the table a bit. She clapped her ass, and pussy popped slowly.
“Mona,” I held out, finding myself behind her, only to untie her combat boots.
Turning her head in my direction, Mona bit her bottom lip, showing me her golden incisors. I bit my bottom lip because I was losing control of the situation. I wasn’t ready to dive into her guts. I needed us to eat, talk, and dance.