Real Wifeys: Get Money Page 7

  “Word?” he asked, his eyes filled with surprise.

  I nodded before I walked back over to my car. I searched the case for the CD I was looking for and slid it into the player. Soon the sound of “Motivation” filled the air. Thankfully there was nothing but abandoned houses and the parked cars of all the partygoers in there kissing Goldie’s ass. All hail the queen. What the fuck ever. Tricky bitch.

  I smoked the blunt as I pulled from my stripper moves and danced under the circle of light created in the darkness by the streetlight. That scandalous bitch actually taught me that a woman didn’t have to be naked to be sexy. It was all in the moves and the eye contact. Make that man feel like he is the only one who exists.

  Has posted up against the building, pressing the sole of one of his black Jordans against the brick as he tilted his head to the side and watched me. Close. “So what’s this all about . . . Luscious?” he asked.

  Betrayal. Heartache. Revenge.

  I just shrugged as I clamped the blunt with my teeth and used both my hands to ease the skirt of my dress up around my hips. “Why you cut your dreads?” I asked.

  Has smiled a little and mimicked my shrug.

  This nigga was cool as fuck. Laid-back. He was the shit and he knew it. And it wasn’t because he was rich or famous. It was just him. All him.

  I walked over to stand before him, placing the blunt in his mouth before I turned and pressed my soft ass back against him. His hands came out to touch my waist, but I was surprised when he gently pushed me off him. I turned and looked up at him.

  “So this some revenge shit?” Has asked, smoking the blunt. “You using me to get back at your boy and Goldie?”

  An image of Make$ eating Goldie out flashed like a bolt of lightning or some shit. I blinked and looked down at my heels to keep from crying.

  “So it don’t bother you that she let my man—no, no, let me fix that—she let a man eat her out in the bathroom a minute after you walked out?” I asked, looking up at him as I motioned my hands with attitude. “The same dude that flexed on you in the club with the little shoulder check.”

  Has’s eyes squinted more. “Make$? That’s your man? He said some dumb shit to me, but I waved that little nigga off. He’s nonsense to me, with that one whack-ass song,” he said.

  “Exactly,” I agreed. Like I said, love glosses over things and hate keeps shit forever real as hell.

  He frowned deeply. “That’s some foul shit they did. Matter of fact, a lot of foul shit went down tonight.”

  I reached up and took the blunt from his hand, dropping it to the street to crush beneath my stiletto. I closed my eyes as I stepped to this fine nigga, grabbed his shirt tight, and raised up on my toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He smelled like some sexy-ass cologne, and I let myself get lost in his scent. Get lost in him. Forget Make$ and Goldie’s tricking ass.

  His body went stiff, like he wasn’t fucking with it. “We can’t—”

  I moved his arms and pressed my body against his. Curves for days. I knew that, and now he felt it. I couldn’t bring myself to kiss him on the mouth but I licked a trail from his strong, square jaw down his neck. His skin was fresh and clean beneath my tongue.

  He was different from Make$, and in that moment I felt like it was just what I needed.

  I leaned back and looked up at him as I felt his dick get hard against my stomach. Damn.

  “I just know that nigga can do a serious fuckdown. He walk like he gotta keep his thighs open ’cause his dick swinging. You know? One of them dangerous dicks.”

  Since I locked my heart on Make$, I hadn’t wanted to fuck anybody else. It had been a damn year since I even thought about another dude like that. Like I said, I’m loyal. But straight up? After the STD bullshit, catching him with Goldie, remembering all the nights I was lonely while he was out doing him, and knowing this big-dick dude was the one Goldie wanted bad as hell . . .

  Well, Goldie can’t have everything she want.

  I turned and walked to my car. “You coming?” I asked over my shoulder before I slipped into the driver’s seat. I turned and stared at him through the open passenger window, hoping he would give me the chance to get back at Make$ and Goldie with one good fuck.

  He didn’t do shit but stare back at me for a few moments before he turned and walked to a black Ford pickup.

  Damn, ain’t this some shit.

  I wrapped my silk robe around me tighter as I stood in the living room looking out the window at the lit skyline. My eyes were swollen from crying. My heart was hardened with hate for Make$ and Goldie. No matter what I did, I couldn’t chase the thought of them fucking around behind my back. I hoped like hell he gave her ass the STD or, better yet, she gave it to him. Couple of crabs fucking burning people.

  No-good cokehead ass. And I was dumb enough to do that shit with him, trying to please him and keep him. Losing myself so that I could win him.

  Still, I hated that it was two in the morning and I wondered where he was. With Goldie? Still at the club?

  I walked barefoot into the kitchen and opened my pocketbook sitting on the counter. I pulled out my BlackBerry and powered it on, tapping my nails against the countertop while I waited. Tapped and did a mental rewind.

  I had looked up to Goldie. Respected her grind. Wanted to emulate her hustle. I thought she was a friend. I trusted her. I thought she had my back.

  I could see them lying up in bed laughing at my dumb ass. My stomach burned and I felt a rage deep in my bones. I made a fist so tight that my tips pressed painfully into the flesh of my palms. Angry tears filled my eyes. Goldie had it all and even that wasn’t enough. The money, the business, the respect. She had to have my man too? I hated that bitch with a passion.

  The BlackBerry vibrated in my hand. I had like ten voice mail messages. Fuck ’em. About fifty incoming text messages made the phone vibrate constantly. They all were from Make$. Fuck him.

  The phone vibrated again and his image filled the screen. I started not to answer but curiosity got the best of my ass. “What?” I snapped, my voice hard and cold and nasty.

  “We need to talk. I’m on my way home.”

  I made a face as I paced the length of the kitchen. “Home? We don’t have a home. You fucked that up when you fucked Goldie. Is that who gave you the STD?”

  “Man, leave that shit alone, Luscious,” he said.

  That pissed me off because it felt like he was trying to minimize his bullshit and my pain. “No, you shoulda left Goldie alone, bitch!”

  “Man, I was fucked up and Goldie pulled me in that bathroom and locked the door. I just fucked up. That ’caine had me.”

  “Oh, you trying to say you and Goldie haven’t been fucking around. Get the fuck out of here. I saw you fucking flex on the dude we both saw her hugging. Negro, please.” I felt like throwing my BlackBerry into the unlit fireplace.

  He said nothing. Fucking nothing.

  “I’ll tell you what. I ain’t in the mood for you. Go lay up with Goldie. Don’t come here. I got the door padlocked and chained and if you come here acting stupid these white folks will handle that shit for me!”

  “Man, Luscious, you know I go back on the road in the morning and I need to pack my shit.”

  I shook my head as I walked over to the front door to make sure the chain was on. “Nah, buy new shit and that includes a new eight ball because I done flush that motherfucker down the toilet, cokehead. Enjoy being on the road. Enjoy Goldie. Enjoy life. Because as far as I’m concerned . . . fuck you!” I sang like I was Cee Lo Green in that motherfucker.

  I hung up on his ass and snatched the battery out the phone, tossing it all into the deep stainless steel sink. I gave myself a twenty count to calm down as I breathed deep as hell and massaged my head with my fingertips. I poured myself a glass of wine and drank it back in a rush. It would take a hundred more gallons for me not to feel my pain anymore.

  My life was on some real bullshit. And it was just the beginning because I knew
that shit might be on all the blogs before end of day tomorrow. Probably making me look like the crazy jealous wifey or some shit.

  Hmmmm. I arched a brow as I poured another glass of wine. Maybe everybody needed to know just how dirty Make$ and Goldie was. Sometimes you just had to shame the devil . . . and his bitch. If I could make a little change off it too, then why the fuck not?

  Good girls finished last. I was so done-dada over that shit. I was so busy watching other people backs while they was busier stabbing me in mine. No more.

  Finishing the wine, I sat the glass in the sink and made my way back to our bedroom—no, my bedroom. I smiled as I closed the door and looked at Has sitting in the middle of the bed with nothing covering his dick but the sheet. I slipped out of my robe and posed with all my dark and delicious sexiness for him.

  Has turned the TV off and let them sexy eyes of his take in all my curves. “You finished arguing with Old Boy?” he asked in that deep voice, sounding amused.

  “Fuck him. He’s not coming here,” I said.

  “I’m not worried,” he said in that blasé, “I don’t really give a fuck” way of his.

  I believed him.

  I turned around in front of the dresser and bent over, making my ass jiggle as I gave him the million-dollar pussy shot from behind. “Look good?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Hell yeah,” he said, flinging back the sheet to climb from my bed.

  I turned to face them—him and his dick—pressing my ass against the edge of the dresser.

  His long, thick dick was already covered by a condom. It hung from his body, looking every bit of eleven or twelve inches. It made two of Make$’s dick. Shit.

  Has grabbed his dick to tap that thick motherfucker against my thigh. Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat. “You got a pretty body,” he said.

  I spread my legs wide in front of him.

  “Damn.”

  I stroked his dick. “Your dick way bigger than his,” I said as it got hotter and harder in my hand.

  He laughed a little. “You crazy,” Has said, reaching up to massage my full breasts. My skin tingled from his touch. My clit pumped with new life.

  Fucking this nigga Goldie wanted in the apartment and bed I shared with my cheating-ass man made my pussy extra wet. Revenge was my motivation. Payback my aphrodisiac. The fact that the nigga lived up to everything Goldie thought he would be was a bingo bonus.

  I thought Has was turning me down tonight, but he just wanted to follow me in his own all-black pickup truck. We barely made it through the door of the apartment before he proved that he could give out that serious fuckdown. His dick was swinging long and was dangerously thick.

  It was time for round two . . . or was it three?

  I cried out when he dipped his head in to lick my hard nipples. I arched my back and squeezed his dick tighter, enjoying the ridges along that motherfucker and feeling like it was damn good to have a grown-man-size dick in my life.

  Has lifted me up onto the top of the dresser. I leaned back against the mirror, looking up at him. “Fuck me like you would Goldie,” I said, reaching up to stroke the soft hairs on his chest.

  He frowned in confusion even as he slid his dick deep inside of my pussy, inch by thick inch until I felt full. I couldn’t even take it all. Shit.

  As he lifted my ass off the dresser, flinging my legs over his arms, I cried out from the smooth feel of his long and hard thrusts as he worked his hips. He bit his bottom lip and watched me fierce as hell, like he wanted to make sure I was pleased.

  I was.

  No, there was none of the emotions or chemistry I had with Make$, but a sexy man with a big dick who knew how to fuck could not be denied. Especially not tonight.

  Plus, I was smiling on the inside even as he made me cum thinking: Goldie won’t have everything she want. Not anymore. I’ll make sure of it.

  5

  The last three weeks had been weird as hell for me.

  Even with discovering the truth about Goldie and Make$, it felt funny as hell not talking to either one of them clowns. All communication between me and Goldie was dead. Completely done. Fuck that scandalous bitch. I owed her an ass-whupping and plenty more. This shit between us was far from over.

  Make$’s trifling ass been touring around the country the last three weeks and we spoke twice since then. I pretended to accept his apology, but told him I needed time to forgive him. So ignored his constant calls—calls I didn’t get from him when he was on the road before his ass got caught. Eventually his calls slowed up but the gifts kept coming. In his mind we would deal with everything when he got home. Negro, please.

  Even though I knew he was lying about firing Goldie, I didn’t even give a fuck that she was still touring with him. Let him continue to take his pussy on the road, because all of my goodness was off-limits to him. Has was busy tearing the pussy up anyway. So it was fine by me. I was just playing my position because on the real, this nigga was still paying the bills and putting money in my account. It’s the least he owed me. Still, I knew the jig would be up once he was back in town and looking for the old Luscious.

  That dumb bitch was gone. Long gone and singing “Deuces.”

  This Luscious was going to spend his money and keep me some dick on the side. Fuck being a good girl. I was sick of getting fucked—literally and figuratively.

  This Luscious went out with Eve and Michel damn near every night. I hadn’t partied that hard since before Make$ locked me down and had me stuck on stupid.

  This Luscious was sick of coke hard dicks. When I felt like fucking, I called Has and he came through like a champ each and every time. Our shit was strictly no strings and we were cool with that.

  This Luscious wasn’t putting up with Make$’s family bullshit. One call to the building manager’s office and those chicks wasn’t even allowed in the building anymore.

  This Luscious was on some new shit.

  Matter of fact . . .

  I picked up my cell, popping away on a piece of gum while I waited. “Hey you. Busy?”

  “Nah, not really.”

  “Good, meet me at the spot?” I asked, already feeling a thrill shoot through my pussy at the sound of Has’s voice.

  “A’ight. I was just thinking ’bout you anyway,” he said.

  “I’m going to give you even more to think about,” I promised, already stripping off the boy shorts and sports bra I wore around the house. Shower time and then dick time.

  He just did that half laugh of his.

  I ended the call and hopped my horny ass in the shower. Making sure to clean it up real good because I was going to steer Has right on down to the pussy for him to snack on. If I couldn’t get the appetizer, he would miss the main meal.

  I rubbed my smooth dark skin down with Vaseline gel before I sprayed my favorite Calvin Klein Euphoria perfume everywhere on my body. My dark skin gleamed in the white strapless peasant dress I wore with matching espadrilles. I didn’t bother with any panties. No need. I would just be out of them anyway. Plus it felt good walking when my pussy was clean-shaven.

  I had just stepped out the apartment building when Peaches appeared out of nowhere like a police raid and jumped in my face. I thought about that video of the girl she had jumped and stepped way back from this crazy bitch.

  Even though I eventually saw the girl one day shopping downtown, knowing she wasn’t dead or injured beyond repair didn’t change the role Peaches’ shot-out ass played in it all.

  “How the fuck you gone ban us from the apartment building where my son pay your fucking rent?” Peaches asked, pointing her finger in my face with acrylic nails that had to be every bit of three inches long. Now what chick can really wash and wipe her ass good with nails that long? Nah, I really didn’t want them suspect motherfuckers in my face.

  “Peaches, Terrence and I are going though something and I just need my space,” I told her, trying to calm her down like white folks do vicious animals about to attack they ass in the wild.

  Peaches
leaned back and made a dum-dum face. “What the fuck that got to do with me and his sisters?” She waved a hand at a SUV.

  That was the first time I noticed the older-model black Tahoe sitting double-parked with the twins in the front seat.

  None of them had jobs and I knew Make$ was fronting the bill and the gas. I sighed on the inside.

  “Peaches, listen, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I said, trying to step past her to walk to the garage and get my Jag.

  She stepped in my path. Uhm. Okay. I slid my hand right in my straw Coach bag. It slid across my can of dog mace—but I didn’t need that . . . yet. I grabbed my BlackBerry and went to the gossip blogsite MediaTakeOut.com, scrolling until I found the entry: “Platinum-Selling Hip-Hop Artist Caught in Club Bathroom with One of His Strippers/Dancers!”

  I turned the phone to her, watching as she read the gossip and saw the pictures of Goldie and Make$ in sexy poses together onstage.

  Peaches brushed the BlackBerry out of her face, scratching my hand with one of her nails. “I already heard that bullshit. You around here telling anybody with two ears and an ass about it. You probably the one who told MediaTakeOut about it. How the hell they got a picture of you looking sad and posed up. Bitch, please.”

  The bitch was a little smarter than I thought. I kept my face blank.

  “You stressing my son out about that bullshit. Fucking childish-ass rumors. Ain’t shit you got to complain about with my motherfuckin’ son,” she said, patting her damn near flat chest with her talons. “You lucky to have him.”

  Lucky to have a cokehead, slender-dick motherfucker who gave me trich? Yes, Lord, thank you for the blessings.

  I released a heavy breath and looked at her with eyes that I hoped were dull enough to let her know her ass was boring me.

  “You ’round here not working, living good, driving my son’s whip, and spending his gwap on designer clothes to go party and shop for more designer clothes ’cause you don’t do shit else.”