Flawless 2 Page 4

  “We need to talk,” Romeo said, slowly approaching her.

  “Can it wait ‘til after breakfast?” Shayla asked, making their plates.

  She desperately wanted to get back to the real world and forget about last night. But Romeo couldn’t do that. He didn’t know what he’d do if she ever ended up in the hospital like Kim because of his shit. I’d rather break things off before it’s too late, Romeo reasoned with himself.

  “No…It can’t…”

  “Why?” Shayla was now growing irritated. She’d gone out her way to make thin buttermilk pancakes and veggie omelets. And now Romeo was giving her the third degree.

  “’Cuz I ain’t really got an appetite right now,” he answered truthfully.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  Romeo hesitated for a second—because standing in front of Shayla made him vulnerable. Without a drop of makeup on, she was flawless. Her beauty was the very thing that made him weak. And right now, he couldn’t afford that shit either. For the sake of his business and her safety, he had to let Shayla go.

  “We can’t be together no more…” The words left Romeo’s lips quicker than he was able to accept. The disappointed look that appeared on Shayla’s face crushed him emotionally. He would never forget that expression. It would undoubtedly haunt him for many nights he slept without her.

  “W—wait, what? Where is this coming from?” Shayla asked, clearly confused. “What do you mean we can’t be together anymore?”

  “I—I just can’t do it right now,” Romeo stammered. He didn’t have the courage to tell her it was for her own good so he bullshitted around. “I just ain’t ready to settle down yet, Shay.”

  She shook her head vehemently as though she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “Just be real. It’s about last night—”

  “It’s not about last night,” Romeo lied. “I just don’t wanna be tied down right now—”

  “Tied down?! You proposed to me!” she reminded him. “Where is all this really coming from, Romeo? Just keep it one hundred with me.”

  Romeo stood directly in front of Shayla as he looked down into her beautiful eyes. He wanted to apologize, hold her, and tell her everything was going to be okay. But in all honesty, she was better off without a nigga like him in her life.

  “The truth is…” Romeo paused and licked his thick lips. He actually struggled with saying the words. “I just…I don’t love you…”

  WHAP!

  Shayla slapped the shit out of Romeo. “How could you say something like that?” she cried. “You talked me into having this baby! You said you’d always be there for me! I trusted you when you told me we could make this work. How can you stand in my face and tell me you don’t love me? I believed everything you’ve ever told me.” She shook her head and looked at Romeo like she didn’t even know him. “But I don’t believe this…”

  “It’s true…” he murmured.

  Romeo expected to be slapped again but was relieved when it didn’t happen.

  “Just take me home,” Shayla said, brushing past him. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Shayla would’ve gladly driven herself but she’d left the BMW at her parents’ house.

  “Shayla, I brought this place for you,” Romeo called out after her.

  “I don’t want it!” Shayla screamed from the bedroom.

  He could hear drawers opening and slamming and he knew she was packing. “Damn,” he muttered. “I hope I’m making the right choice.”

  ***

  During the entire drive to her parents’ townhome, Shayla cried nonstop. She couldn’t believe Romeo actually had the audacity to break up with her after a traumatic event. Telling her it was because he didn’t love her was the ultimate insult. Shayla wanted to believe he was lying. Perhaps he was just scared of commitment. But the fact that he was sticking to his excuse made it seem even more solid.

  Romeo’s stomach churned as he sat uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. Hearing Shayla sob quietly tore at his soul. Like her, he too was heartbroken; but Romeo was a hood nigga. Regardless of how he felt, he could never let a woman see him sweat. Not even Shayla. But that didn’t stop the pain from gnawing at his conscience.

  Romeo slowed down as he neared her parents’ house. As usual, Shayla’s father was out front mowing the lawn. When he saw them pull up, he smiled and waved. Unfortunately, his cheeriness wasn’t enough to lighten the heavy sadness in the car.

  “I can’t believe you, Romeo,” Shayla said, turning to face him. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. “Right when I think I got you figured out, you pull this shit,” she sniffled. “You should’ve just let me get the abortion.” With that, she climbed out the car and walked to her front door.

  Damn, that’s how she feels? Hurt by her statement, Romeo parked the car and hopped out. “Shayla, wait!” he called after her.

  She didn’t stop walking and actually quickened her pace. She wanted to get as far away from Romeo as possible.

  “Shayla! Hol’ up. We need to talk.”

  “You did enough talking for one day,” Shayla said over her shoulder.

  Hearing her daughter’s voice out front, Tina quickly opened her door. Her smile automatically turned to a frown when she saw her baby crying.

  The scowl Tina gave Romeo made him fear she’d spit venom.

  “Shayla, please, can we talk?”

  “I think you’d better leave,” Tina said sternly. Before he could respond, she slammed the front door. Once again, Romeo had experienced the Scorpion-like sting of a mother. None ever seemed to like him and he couldn’t say he blamed them.

  10

  One Month Later

  Romeo took a heavy pull on the tightly rolled blunt and exhaled deeply. From his parked car, he watched Shayla cross the street in front of her home. She had so much pride that she refused to drive the car he’d brought her.

  Kendrick Lamar’s “Good Kid, Maad City” played on the speaker as Romeo puffed on Atlanta’s finest kush. He low key felt like a stalker but he preferred watching from a distance. Being up close and personal would only complicate shit. So instead, he woke up most mornings just to watch her walk safely to work.

  Nearing three months, Shayla was finally starting to show—but she wore the extra weight well. Romeo stared fixatedly at her ass in her work pants. He liked the added weight there as well.

  I wonder how she’ll act if I pull up on her, Romeo asked himself. He knew Shayla was pissed at him for dumping her the way he did. And then to further add to insult, he ignored all her calls and text messages.

  After two weeks they finally came to an abrupt halt. It bothered Romeo to think she was actually moving on from him, but he knew it was probably in her best interest. He wanted to be with her badly, but was afraid of what could come of it. He could only hope she understood and forgave him one day.

  Suddenly, Romeo’s iPhone began ringing. It was money.

  After the robbery, he and Desmond had to shake shit up a little. No more deliveries could go to the old warehouse. Instead, they purchased several foreclosed homes around the city and used their dump truck front to make drop offs and pickups. With their product and money now spread out, they had more security—and more responsibilities.

  “What’s up Dez?” Romeo answered.

  “Fuck’s takin’ you so long, bruh? The trucks are here. You late. We can’t keep practicin’ them old habits, homie. Why the fuck you think we changin’ shit up now?”

  “Aye, I got caught up in traffic,” Romeo lied. Desmond stayed in his ass like he was his pops or some shit. He’d gotten pushy as hell lately, but Romeo rarely paid it any mind. He knew his boy was just looking out for the business’ best interest. “Look, I’m on my way, aight?” Disconnecting the call, he shifted his gears and drove off.

  Meanwhile, Shayla’s phone rang inside her tote. Stopping to catch her breath, she dug inside and fetched her iPhone. It was her girl Kimberlyn. She had been released a week ago; Shayla made it
her mission to ensure her friend was well taken care of. Usually after work, she caught the bus to Kimberlyn’s home, cooked, cleaned, and helped Jordan with his homework—all while 2 ½ months pregnant.

  “Hey, girl. Is everything okay?” Shayla asked, concern evident in her voice.

  “Yeah,” Kim answered groggily. “I was just wondering if you could grab me some apple juice before you came through tonight. Please,” she added.

  Shayla sighed heavily. Kimberlyn was more than capable of mobility—and apart of her thought she was taking advantage. Still, Kim was her girl and she would do anything to make sure she was comfortable—even if it meant running herself ragged.

  “Sure,” Shayla hesitantly agreed. Publix was a short walk from Ikea, but it was one she didn’t feel like taking. “I guess I could.”

  “Thanks, bay. You’re the best,” Kim said before hanging up.

  Shayla shook her head and replaced her phone. Kimberlyn had been suffering a major depression since her hospital release. Shutting everyone out but her friend and son, she avoided most people’s calls and visits—including Desmond’s.

  Shayla was tired of Kim’s ‘woe is me’ attitude, but she was unsure of what to do to get her out her funk. The sudden honking of a horn intruded on her thoughts. As soon as Shayla looked over, she noticed her ex Dexter pulling alongside her.

  Shayla grimaced as she watched him roll down his window. Rick Ross poured through the custom speakers of BMW. “You need a ride?” he called out.

  Shayla didn’t bother looking at him as she continued her stroll. “I’m managing quite fine,” she said stubbornly.

  “Shayla, chill wit’ da sister souljah bullshit and get in the car,” Dexter calmly stated. “You know you shouldn’t be walkin’ in yo’ condition,” he added for good measure.

  Shayla finally stopped in her tracks. Her job was less than a mile away, but a ride would have been nice. Putting her pride to the side, Shayla walked over to the shiny BMW and climbed in.

  Even though he’d had his car two years it still smelled brand new. Mint gum coupled with cologne filled her nostrils. As Shayla fastened her seatbelt, she stole a quick glance at Dexter. He looked damn good in a black Maison Martin Margiela hoodie, jeans, and fresh Timbs.

  Damn. How could I still be attracted to him, Shayla asked herself.

  “How you been?” Dexter asked, driving slow purposely.

  “I’m doing good. No complaints here,” Shayla said, looking straight ahead. She was afraid that if she glanced at him again she’d lose herself.

  “You look good…I mean, to be pregnant and all,” he added.

  Shayla stared down at her small tummy and sighed inwardly. Romeo’s supposed to be here, she thought. “Thanks.”

  Dexter slowly eased into Ikea’s vast parking lot. Pulling into an empty space near the front, he parked the car, and turned it off. “Look, I don’t know how you feel about me lately, but the way I feel about you never changed,” he said. “I just thought you should know that…”

  11

  THUMP!

  THUMP!

  THUMP!

  Ava rolled her eyes in boredom as the blob on top of her humped away. Omar’s fat ass couldn’t even pop a virgin’s cherry with his poor excuse for a penis. The small-time street thug was nothing more than a corner boy for Romeo and Desmond. Paying with pussy for protection, Ava had no other choice if she wanted to keep low radar. She virtually had no one else in her after burning every single bridge.

  The only reason Omar had come to Ava’s rescue after she called was because he’d always had a crush on her. Sadly, her sentiments towards him were the exact opposite. Ava tried her best to ignore the sweat puddle left on her breasts as Omar thrust wildly.

  “Shit, you got some good pussy,” he groaned, bucking amateurishly. He tried to kiss Ava but she quickly turned her head away. Her mouth was strictly off limits, and that included oral.

  Ava stifled a yawn as she stared up at the popcorn ceilings. She missed her glamorous mansion, and hated that her life had been reduced to this.

  Every other day, Omar promised that he’d give Ava the money she needed to leave town. But it was always some excuse that held him back. She knew it was simply because he wanted to keep fucking her. The routine was finally getting old.

  “Damn, V. Can you at least look like you into da shit?” Omar asked. Beads of sweat rolled down his circular head and dripped onto her cheek.

  “If you can hurry up and cum I will—”

  “Damn, you got my shit goin’ soft now,” Omar complained, pulling out. That was an issue well before she voiced her displeasure. Frustrated that he she’d now turned him off, he proceeded to dress. “You know you ain’t holdin’ up your end of the deal,” he said. “In case you ain’t know, dem niggas put a hit out on yo’ ass. You oughta be a lil’ bit more appreciative of what I’m doin’ for you. They’d kill me if they knew.”

  “Give me two grand and I’ll leave,” Ava told him. She tried her best to appear brave, but was secretly unnerved by the fact that people were out to kill her. If Omar would quit giving her the run around, she could be out of his home and hair. However, it was obvious he wanted her around.

  “I can’t do that,” he said with his back to her.

  “Why everyday it’s the same old shit?” Ava asked with an attitude. “Damn, I know yo’ pockets ain’t fat, but Romeo and Desmond pay you something, right? I mean, you ain’t out there hustling on the block for free—”

  WHAP!

  Omar slapped Ava so hard her bottom lip split. “See…That’s why you in this shit now. You don’t know how to control yourself,” he said. “You ain’t callin’ da shots no more, Ava. I run this show.” Omar pointed to his burly chest and smiled wickedly. “You should talk to me wit’ a lil’ mo’ respect. Shit, I wouldn’t wanna slip up and tell Dez where to find you…”

  “Okay. I get it,” Ava said before wiping the blood off her chin. She was so pissed off at Omar for hitting her that she wanted to shoot him.

  Funny how the tables turn, Ava told herself. Not too long ago, she was over him in the chain of command. And now he was slapping her around and making demands like she was a $2 dollar hooker.

  Enjoy it while it lasts motherfucker, Ava thought. Enjoy it while it lasts.

  ***

  It was 9: 07 p.m. when Desmond finally walked through the doors of his beautiful five-bedroom Mediterranean style mini-mansion. Because he was still a little self-conscious about his bruises, he refused to hit the club scene with his boys that night. Romeo insisted, and even promised a bottle, but Dez just wasn’t feeling it.

  Truth be told, he wasn’t the same after the warehouse incident. The entire ordeal changed him completely. Not only that, but he’d recently found out he had a second child—whose mother continued to ignore him to no avail.

  Firing up a tightly rolled blunt, Desmond pulled out his phone and called Kim for the second time that day. It rang three times before going straight to voicemail, which probably meant she’d hit the ignore button.

  Damn, what’s up? Why she actin’ like she ain’t got love for a nigga, he wondered. All Desmond had ever done was try to be there for Kim. And she cut him off like a bad habit. Maybe she just needs time, he concluded.

  Tossing his Burberry alligator skin jacket on a nearby coat rack, Desmond slowly made his way to his bedroom. After taking a seat on the edge of his bed, he pulled off his shirt and sighed.

  Kim wanting her space was one thing, but she had no right to keep Jordan away. He deserved to know his biological father at some time or another.

  Why do I stay falling for these mean ass women, Desmond asked himself.

  Chalking it up as a curse, he proceeded to change his bandage. “Damn,” he winced in pain. His muscle was still tender to the touch. It wasn’t his first time being shot, but the experience was never a pleasant one.

  “You need help with that,” a female voice spoke up from the doorway.

  Desmond grabbed his gun off th
e nightstand just as Dana walked in. He quickly relaxed after realizing she was the intruder.

  “How you get in here?” he asked unenthused. He hadn’t seen his baby mama in months following her public display at Kim’s house.

  Desmond tried to pretend he didn’t notice how cute Dana looked in a black crop top, jean shorts, and Jordans. Something about a chick in J’s did shit to him.

  “Boy, all these years later and you still keep a spare key in that fake ass rock out front,” she laughed.

  Desmond slowly put his gun back down. He wanted to argue with Dana but didn’t have the energy to. Instead, he returned to his task of peeling off the bandage.

  “Here. Let me,” Dana quickly said, rushing over. Before Desmond could protest she was on her knees in front of him.

  Dana took her time as she clean and dressed his wound. She’d been looking for a way of weaseling back in his life and this was the perfect avenue. What nigga don’t want a bitch to play nurse, she thought.

  “You cut your hair,” Desmond noted.

  Dana’s pixie cut went well with her high cheek bones and full lips. She kinda reminded him of a thicker Rihanna.

  “Yeah, I wanted somethin’ different,” she said. “You like it?”

  Desmond shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s straight, I guess.”

  “You know you shouldn’t be here taking care of yourself,” Dana said with a flirtatious look in her eyes. She was trying to get underneath his skin, but she’d have to work harder.

  “Yeah, whatever—says the chick dat ain’t ever come visit a nigga while I was in the hospital.”

  “I didn’t know if I should. I mean, I knew you were still mad at me bay—”

  “I was…and am still mad at yo’ ass,” Desmond told her. “Dana, you gotta chill with all dat psychopath shit, man. Dat ain’t what’s up. And it ain’t healthy for nobody. Trust me.”

  Dana smiled and wet her plump lips. The not-so-innocent gesture immediately made his dick hard. “You right. I have been bein’ a lil’ too hard on you lately,” she agreed. “But it’s only ‘cuz I miss you…”