“I’ve been working my ass off, and I wanted to get away, so I bought a—”
“You’re leaving, knowing I was coming to see you?” I growl.
“I bought us tickets to California and rented a place on the beach. I hope you—”
“How the fuck did you pay for that?” I snap.
“Calm the hell down, Chadli. You should have slept before coming over here ‘cause you’re acting real stank right about now. I didn’t use all the money the last couple of months. It is just me, and I know how to live off of barely nothing,” she explains.
I narrow my gaze at her response. “Chione, I just got off a plane. Give me a week or two home before we—”
“Well, I already paid for it, so you can come up after your week or two,” she suggests with a bit of sass.
Ah, I see what she’s doing. She’s trying to force my hand. Always the mind games with Chione. Manipulating little bitch is what she is.
“You’re letting the bitch show.”
“Oh, am I? Or is it you feel like I’m shaking the leash?”
Leaning back, I scratch my head. “How the fuck am I running you when eleven months out of the year you do whatever the fuck you want?”
“As I should. You do the same.”
“And for one month, I want your attention,” I remind her slowly.
“Yes, and you’ll get it on the vacation I’m taking.”
The silence stretches out between us. I weigh my options as I analyze the situation. It boils down to one thing, honestly. Friends or lovers? I tap the table.
“I’m going to ask you this one time, so take your time to answer, Chione. What the fuck are you really trying to do?”
After the question crosses my pearly whites, I wonder if I need to break down the meaning. Suddenly, the last fringe of fakeness drops. The air shifts to thicken.
“I’m giving you what you want, Chadli—the…the fantasy.”
“Compared to what reality?” I ask.
“Don’t start that bull again. You’ve waited all this time to take me off the shelf for some play time. Don’t fuck it up now,” she warns.
“Because I have some loose ends that I don’t want exposed, I’ll continue with playtime as usual, but next time I’m going to demand a lot more than the fantasy, Chione. Since you wasn’t smart enough to understand that from before, I’ll tell you flat out. I’m ready for more… a lot more.”
“Chadli, hun, you need to let this go.”
Chuckling, I get to my feet. I keep walking until she’s forced to crane her head back to look me in the eyes. “Chione, when I tug on that leash, you better be at the end of it. If not…” I pause to shrug. “Just know we’ll love it when you run.”
I snatch up her palm to press it to my hard cock. It instantly clears up that cloud of confusion in her eyes concerning the “we” I mentioned.
“Text me the details of our vacation,” I said as I left the kitchen for my waiting driver downstairs.
PRESENT DAY…
The bright Miami morning doesn’t affect me the same as it did last year this time. Then I had bloodshot eyes, eager to see Chione to begin our second time together. However, today, I’m silent as my father and I breeze through customs. Neither one of us has been very talkative since dropping off the women in Europe. On our minds are the women we’ve been dreaming of reuniting with. For me, tracking down Chione. For my father, it’s the one he was too fuckin’ dumb to let get away, my mother.
You ever seen the Parent Trap? Well, that’s what happened here without the marriage part. They had met while he was abroad studying. The fun, drugs, and good fuckin’, had turned into love and getting her knocked up. I don’t know if he would have left if he hadn’t found out he was having boys. I would like to think it was more than the sex of my brother and me that had kept him at her side, but if the rumors are true, maybe not. They say he had spit out a few girls in his youth. Whatever had been the reason for him to stay with her, I know love eventually came out of it.
Giving up his title of sheikh was never in consideration. Duty to the family, country, and tribe was number one. I bet Father had talked a brave talk with our mother. Hell, for a moment, she might have actually believed in that pipe dream at the time, but he knew he was selling wolf tickets. If leaving the throne wasn’t an option, then just marry your lady, right? Fuck no. Not when that woman is brown like the people they still thought of as slaves and not worth treating like equals. I mean what the fuck was my father thinking dickin’ a black woman? It didn’t matter that she didn’t come from the ghetto or her parents were both doctors. She was African, black, and the word “American” written next to her race didn’t change that glaring fact. Who knows? He was trying something new. Hell, that’s all college years abroad was all about anyway. The rich and powerful men collect stamps from the countries they visit and the pussy they sample along the way.
Once he came to grips with the truth, Father turned into an asshole, controlling and constantly fighting with her. That was his account of the events. It took him years to admit he had sabotaged his own love by hurting her with his treatment.
“Your mother really tried. She was willing to change, leave her family, take on our ways, and give up her dreams of becoming a doctor just to be with me, you, and Chadli. But it was me. I was the coward. I was the one who felt it was better to leave it instead of fighting. She finally got wise to what I was doing. The hurt I saw in her eyes. I swear I can tell you the day and time I broke her so badly that she just gave up. I’ll tell you this, Shahid, because I never want to hear you disrespect your mother again. No one can know who she is, but I won’t take the image of her from you. Nor will I rewrite the truth to make myself better than the weak motherfucker I am.”
That was the only time my father admitted weakness or failure to me. The two of them remained together, then our second year, Father took me because I was born first. He set up an account for Chadli before he returned home with me. From the way the story went, he arrived home with me in his arms. Although his parents were beyond angry that he wasn’t willing to reveal too much about his bastard, they backed down. Making them accept me as the next in line was tricky, though.
I guess it helped that he had never produced an heir to the surprise of others. It got to the point that rumors started, saying I wasn’t even his child. He put rest to that real quick with a paternity test. On my grandfather’s death bed, when I was eleven, my father spoke the truth to the old man. He told him about my mother. He even showed him the picture I had seen as a kid and a folder of more. It was at that moment I realized he was still keeping tabs on her.
An old man that was stern, rarely smiled cracked on that day at the truth before him. In his eyes was no disgust, but pride at the sight of his other grandson. In a hoarse whisper, he asked about the woman who had given him his grandchildren. He hung on to my father’s every word. I didn’t move a muscle in the corner out of fear that they would realize I was there and kick me out. In spite of cramping up and staying in one spot, Grandfather had insisted that I be sent away. To this day, I wish I had heard what he’d said to my father. Whatever the old man had said, things changed. Four months after my father got the throne, I took my first trip to the States to meet Mother and Chadli.
Still in the airport, I grab his arm to bring him to a stop.
“Why don’t you freshen up?” I suggest.
“I will at the hotel.”
Sighing, I grab my father by the arm to stop his steps. “I’m going to throw you a bone this one time. Go clean up so Mother will be impressed,” I whisper.
I laugh at the two shades he loses at the mention of her. His head darts to the sliding doors leading to the outside to the bathroom door. He gives me a nod.
“Give me ten,” is all he says.
TARIF
I don’t know how long I stood glaring at my reflection in the mirror. Honestly, I’m staring, but it isn’t my reflection I see. It’s Chioma. Once the boys became fourte
en, I backed out of bridging the gap between their two worlds. They were the ones who spoke, emailed, and later, set up visits. It’s been years since I’ve spoken to or even heard Chioma’s lyrical Nigerian voice infused with an England accent.
Shahid claims he’s throwing me a bone. No, my son is presenting me with a prize of a lifetime. I’m well aware of what this means and I’m thankful. Energized, I almost knock the zipper off the track as I tear into my leather, personal bag. Quickly, I freshen my breath. Taking water from the sink, I run my wet hands through my head full of jet-black hair with hints of gray at the temples. Brushing it back, I tap a few strands into place. Switching the brush for my beard comb, I make a couple passes through it. Happy, I finish my actions with a handful of expensive cologne on my neck.
I experience the difference when I emerge from the bathroom. At fifty-seven, I’m still getting attention from the young and old. The lifestyle I’m allotted provides me with the best of everything, and my toned, lean, muscular body and healthy aura is proof of it. I ignore all the gawking stares while I walk shoulder to shoulder with Shahid. My eyes scan the open area towards the doors in search of one person.
“Sha…shit…Chadli.”
A female voice rises above the hustle of feet and the mounted TV’s. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Shahid freeze, look in every direction until he finds the owner of the voice, his mother. As for me, I can’t move a muscle. Shutting my eyes until I see stars, I just marvel at the husky sound of her voice.
“Where were you headed? I told you I would be here to pick you up,” she snaps in mocked anger.
“Mother, I wasn’t going anywhere without you,” promises Shahid.
I can hear the smacking of lips on skin. I just didn’t turn to see who kissed whom.
“You found the house all right?”
“Yes, no problems.” Suddenly, Chioma whispers, “Don’t be rude. Um,” she starts using a normal tone. “Let me intro—”
“Shit, Mother, I’m sorry. You’re right, Father…”
Taking a deep breath, I finally move. The world slows down and my heart stops as the most beautiful woman I know comes into view. Her breath hitching covers the other words Shahid spoke. Even with the deep frown of pure flabbergasted disbelief, it doesn’t dull her looks. Dark milk chocolate, smooth skin, full glossy lips, hair still as thick and unruly as I remember is in big braids to be pinned down to her head to create a crown of glory. After the boys, she worked to trim down as much as her body type would allow. However, I can see that over the years, her hips are a bit wider to give her a shapely, curvaceous body that would make any man weak with lust.
“Tarif,” she mouths once, then finds the breath to utter.
“Am I that ugly?” I joke.
“I…I…I…” she stutters in the hope that she’ll regain control of her ability to talk. “I didn’t expect you to…. Of course, you aren’t ugly. Don’t be sill…I mean, you look okay,” she stresses the word to make it sound like an insult.
“Jesus, woman, you haven’t learned a good poker face yet,” I tease.
“Hell, I can bluff you out of your money any day of the week,” she tosses back.
“You know I won’t back down from that.”
Opening my arms wide, I shock her by pulling her into an embrace. “It’s good to see you, again woman.” I beam down into her upturned face.
I make sure my eyes are wide open to act as a gateway to my heart. Chioma blinks in an attempt not to completely get lost in the depths of my light brown gaze.
“Yes, it’s wonderful to finally meet you,” the man standing next to Chioma speaks at last.
I watch as the spell and the warmth I was spinning broke with the male voice acting as a bucket of cold water. Chioma turns into that scared cat from the Looney Tunes Pepe Le Pew cartoon. Straightening her clothes, she gains control of herself. Glancing down, I acknowledge the hand extended first. Then I make a big show roaming upwards to take in the owner of the appendage. Quickly, Chioma pulls the man’s hand down back to his side.
“No, no, don’t do that,” she mumbles under her breath with a wild head shake.
“Why can’t I shake his hand? Damn, who the hell is he sup—”
“Chioma…” I smile, rubbing her arm slowly. “For you, I’ll allow it.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “He doesn’t—”
“No worries, love,” I whisper back.
I know damn well what I am doing, and by the heated expression on the man’s face when I let Chioma out of our private side conversation about his unworthiness, it’s working, too.
“Um, Tarif, this is Cleveon,” she introduces.
Everyone notices she chose to introduce me instead of putting him in the spotlight.
“Nice to meet you.”
He pauses for me to say the same, but I don’t.
Ignoring him, I turn my body away from the man while I speak, “Can the car service drop me by the hotel?”
“Are you here on business?”
I’ve never forgotten Chioma. Therefore, I pick up on the slight hurt in her tone.
“No business. This is my vacation too. I’ll get a car,” I announce.
“Why? The driver brought Mother in the limo. There’s room for you. We’ll drop you on the way to the house,” offers Shahid.
Taking my cue, he too doesn’t mention Cleveon in our group.
“Great. Don’t forget about me now. I’m an old man who might get into trouble,” I joke as we start for the door.
“Hell, why are you staying at a hotel anyway?” questions Chioma as she cuts her eyes in my direction.
“Because my mistress is booked in the adjoining room,” I tease.
Chioma trips over air. Being the gentleman, Cleveon makes sure to steady her before I can help.
“It’s a joke. I didn’t want to butt in on your time with Chadli.”
“Oh,” mumbles Chioma, going back to leading our group. “Well, it’s his house. I can’t make him not allow you to stay.”
I keep the smirk from my lips when Cleveon leans into whisper hotly in her ear.
“Shit, you’re staying at Chadli’s too. You think he’s going to not offer a room to his father?” She scoffs loud enough for Shahid and me to hear walking behind them. “It’s up to you, honey,” she tosses over her shoulder to Shahid.
He and I slow our steps to make sure his mother and her boyfriend step outside.
“I see you got this.” He smiles.
“Oh, son, don’t worry about me. This is a battle I’ve been preparing for. You just focus on bringing home your woman,” I say, gripping his shoulder.
“Do good, and you will enslave their heart,” we both recite, changing the old Arabic proverb before going to get what’s ours.
4
SHAHID
I take heed to what my father says. I can’t afford to flip out whenever I finally see Chione. Instead, I spend the first day in the U.S. with my mother while placing calls of my own. From the bank that I’ve been depositing Chione’s funds, I know the account was wiped out four days ago. The money was withdrawn online into a different account. One that I have no access to. I don’t bitch or press too hard over the matter with the bank employee out of fear that they’ll call the law.
I could make it easy on myself by getting a hacker involved. In a few hours, I’m sure the guy would have an address I can follow up on, but I’ll play that card last. For now, I’ll move the other pieces I have around the board in my pursuit of re-capturing my queen. I have no doubt that by the end of the day, I’ll have Chione in my sights. The very thought has me up early, dressed, and eager to start out on the hunt.
“Shahid?”
I glance up from tugging my shoes on. “Come.”
For a moment, I totally forget about Chione at the sight of my mother slipping into my room. I had gone through great lengths to keep my conversations with her last night to a limit. Like everything about her, she has a way of seeing the hidden and stick
ing her fingers into the tiniest crack to get to the heart of things you would prefer to let stay dead. I have no desire to tell her about Chione, which is why I kept my responses short.
“Off so early?”
“Yes,” I reply without giving her my eyes.
“Oh… Where are you heading to?”
I sigh as I straighten up. “Ma, I have business to see to.”
“You don’t have to hide her, your girl.”
I want to laugh so bad. I have to find her fuckin’ ass first. I swear, I’m going to knock the shit out of Chione when I see her again.
“I promise you I’m not hiding anyone.”
“But it is a girl, though.” At my blank stare, “I don’t know why you try to lie when I’m going to find out anyway.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You think so, huh?”
“I’m just giving you the chance to come clean. So, who is she? Does she know?”
I wish to God Chione didn’t know as much as she does. Maybe if I never trusted in hopes of gaining what I wanted the most, I wouldn’t be on the wild goose chase.
“Listen, you need to be focused on braving your own storm,” I mumble while getting to my feet.
“What the hell you’re talking about?”
“Geesh, Ma, penetration was only a second away from how you and Father were all on each other in the airport. I’m telling you now, I want your boyfriend to sign a non-disclosure agreement. That man isn’t going to be talking shit about Father. You have to pretend harder for the sake of your boyfriend.”
Dropping her arms, mother grunts, “You said you didn’t care about him coming.”
“I don’t, but the shit’s going to hit the fan. You know that, right?”
Ma bustles a bit in hopes of downplaying things. “I don’t agree. Your father and I are—”
“I never realized until now where I get it from,” I say, cutting her off. Picking up my keys, I go for the door.
Ma turns to keep me in her eyesight. “Realize what?” She smiles.
A Desert King's Obsession Page 7
