“I hope not, sweetheart, because believe it or not, I think I’m falling in love with you.”
I’ve gotta blow his head up and tell him what he wants to hear, Karen thought. “I’ve got that same feeling, you know. It’s like love at first sight and in love overnight. This is totally unbelievable, like a dream come true.”
“You know what, baby? We’ve been together for a few months now and already I’m thinking about marriage. Am I crazy or am I just in love?”
“You’re not crazy by a long shot, baby, because I found myself visualizing the same exact thing. I gave lots of thought to what it would be like being Mrs. Jermaine Hopkins and believe me, the thought made me smile and feel good inside.”
“My first mind, my mother, and my sisters told me to give it at least six months or so because by then we’ll have had the chance to get to know more about one another’s mood swings, likes and dislikes, and what causes one another pleasure or pain.”
So this is the type of muthafucka that lets his family make decisions for him. I had a feeling he was a mama’s boy. “Love at first sight and people getting married right away isn’t unusual, Jermaine. I can feel that our love for one another is real. My aunt met my uncle on a Thursday morning and the next day he asked her to marry him. That Saturday they got married and that was thirty-five years ago and they’re still married to this day,” Karen said, wanting to keep him on the subject of marriage. This was a one-in-a-million chance of a lifetime and she did not want to blow it.
“Is that right? Well, they say that timing is everything, and if a person doesn’t take advantage of certain situations and opportunities at the time they occur, then more than likely they’ll regret it later. I don’t want you to slip away from me, Karen, and if marrying you will always keep you in my life, then so be it, we’ll get married. Besides, I can’t think of anything more pleasurable than coming home to you off the road. Sweetheart, I get hard just thinking about the things you do to me; I wanna marry you, Karen,” stated Jermaine firmly.
“I strongly believe that’s what God wants, Jermaine. God put us in each other’s lives for a reason, and like you just said, if a person doesn’t take advantage of a situation, especially when God is involved, they’ll regret it for the rest of their life.”
“Yep, you’re right, baby,” agreed Jermaine.
They talked a few more minutes, then broke the connection.
While driving through the state of Texas, Jermaine began thinking. Damn, it’s all good. I think I’ve got myself a winner. She’s pretty, she’s intelligent, she has damn good pussy, and on top of that she gives some bomb head. Damn, what more could a man ask for in a woman?
While watching Jerry Springer, Karen’s thoughts were, Boy, I’ve got it going on. Hell, I’ve got myself a truck driver who makes damn good money, the kids like him, he’s a good father figure, he owns three cars and a couple of homes, and with a little persuasion soon we’ll be married and soon moving in with him. And on top of that, I can still have Mr. Ultimate Dick Tyrone whenever I want him. I hope Tyrone doesn’t start acting stupid and fuck things up for me.
Tyrone was drinking a forty-ounce of Olde English on his mother’s porch. Each swallow caused him to get more and more frustrated, which triggered him to yell.
“Fuck that! That bitch is mines and I can’t deal with anotha nigga gettin’ what’s mines! How is she just gonna leave me for anotha nigga! I can’t accept that, hell naw, I ain’t havin’ it! Fuck that!” Out of anger he threw the empty bottle in the street where it shattered and then lit another joint.
At nine-fifteen the following morning Tyrone was knocking on Denise’s and Maurice’s front door. He had talked his mother out of money to catch the metro rail and to buy him a couple joints and a forty ounce. He was strapped with a nine-millimeter and had just finished smoking a joint of chronic and drinking a forty ounce. Luckily, Denise and Maurice had already left for work, because Tyrone was high as a kite and angry as hell.
“Open this goddamn door, shorty!” Tyrone yelled, while pounding on the door with one hand and his nine-millimeter in the other. He was ready to bring on the drama. He had come to claim what he figured belonged to him.
Karen appeared a few seconds later in her robe and with an attitude.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, standing in the doorway.
“I come to take you back to my mama’s house, shorty. You my girl, goddammit, and that’s just the way it is, you know what I’m sayin’. I ain’t ’bout to let no square-ass truck-driving nigga take you away from me.” He then flashed his gun. “Where’s that fool at, shorty! I need to have a man to man talk with him.”
“What did I tell you, Tyrone? Why are you so goddamn hardheaded?” she replied in a calm voice, not wanting to awaken the kids or the neighbors. Then she continued.
“I told you over and over that the only thing we have in common is fucking; that’s it and that’s all. And if you keep on acting childish and stupid you’re going to fuck that up.”
“You don’t even care about my goddamn feelings, shorty! I might be a gangsta, but I do have a feeling, you know. But it seems like to me that you only want me ’cause I got a big dick, but it’s not going down like that because my emotions are involved now.” He then paced back and forth with his finger on the trigger.
“First of all, Tyrone, put that fucking gun down. And secondly, I don’t know why you’re talking crazy when I’ve already told you what’s going on. Now keep your damn voice down before you wake up the kids and the neighbors.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to hear that bullshit you talkin’, shorty. I’ll shoot this muthafucka up if you don’t come with me! Don’t test me, please don’t test me. And believe me, I don’t give a fuck about the neighbors or a fuckin’ landlord, goddammit I’m a gangsta! If you don’t want me to get stupid around here, then wake up the kids, grab a few clothes, and let’s go back to my mama’s house,” he demanded, pointing the gun at a vehicle parked in the stall.
“Put that damn gun up, Tyrone!”
“So how we gonna handle this? Are you comin’ back to my mama’s house, or do I gotta act a damn fool?”
“You make things so complicated when they can be so fuckin’ simple. All right, I’ll go to your mother’s house but only for a night or so. I’m not about to fuck up the possibility of marrying a decent man for you.” He then put away his gun.
“Where’s that nigga anyway? Like I said, me and him gotta have a man-to-man talk, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“He’s at work where he’s supposed to be. Go wait for me in the parking lot next to the black convertible Mustang while I get the kids dressed and grab a few clothes.” She had to give in to keep him calm. Bertha and a couple of his homeboys had told her that he was trigger-happy and lord knows that she didn’t need any demonstrations at the moment.
Feeling he had somewhat gotten his way, Tyrone followed her instructions. She then quickly phoned Jermaine and lied to him, telling him that she was going to spend a couple of days with her sick Uncle Simon.
Chapter 3
During the ride to Los Angeles, Tyrone and Karen rode in complete silence while he wore a mean look and entertained malicious thoughts. Before Karen could get the kids out of the car, Tyrone had already stormed out of the car and into the house. Once inside, he made a quick phone call, then told his mother he had a run to make and would return shortly. He had totally ignored Karen without saying a single word to her.
Before going to prison, Tyrone had been involved in a home invasion, a carjacking, and several drive-by shootings. Crime had been a way of life for him since the age of eight, but due to three of his homeboys recently killed by rival gangs, Tyrone decided to lay low for a while until things cooled down. Once Karen had come into his life, he figured that if she and her kids were a part of his life that would somewhat motivate him to live right, do the right things, and put crime behind him. But now, unfortunately, someone was standing in the way of his plans. That someon
e was Karen’s husband-to-be.
After leaving his mother’s he went to meet with three of his homeboys and angrily ran down the scenario to them about what was happening and what he planned to do about it. Without any questions asked, they headed for Lancaster in a stolen car. Whenever one of the homeys needed help of some sort, whether he was in the wrong or right, the homeys had his back without question. That was how they did it in the hood.
They posted in front of Denise and Maurices’s apartment, waiting impatiently for a male to approach the door. Tyrone didn’t know what Jermaine looked like, but his plan was to approach, take action, and state his case afterward. His homeboys were down with him simply because he had assisted them on many criminal activities.
Maurice exited his Toyota and walked toward his apartment.
“There he is, let’s get that fool!” instructed Tyrone, ready for action.
The thugs hurriedly stormed out of the car and rushed up to Maurice before he reached the stairwell that led to his apartment.
“What’s up, fool?” Tyrone yelled, aiming his nine-millimeter at Maurice’s head.
His homeboys quickly surrounded Maurice, and then suddenly, one of them hit Maurice in the head with the barrel of a gun.
“Yeah, nigga, you been fuckin’ around with my girl! Nobody fucks with Killa T’s girl, cuz. This is Front Hood Crip, nigga, and you in straight violation, cuz!” Tyrone shouted, still aiming at Maurice’s head.
“What the fuck you talkin’ about, man?” yelled Maurice in his Jamaican accent.
Maurice was totally dumbfounded to the thug’s accusations. Maurice then said something accented that none of the thugs understood, but before he could finish Tyrone shot him twice in the chest, and then took off running to the car. A few neighbors heard the gunshots and responded by coming outside, but by then Tyrone and his crew had fled without being seen. Julio, a neighbor who lived downstairs, dialed 911 on his cell phone. Several neighbors stood over Maurice’s motionless body as he lay unconscious in a pool of blood.
Denise was asleep when Charlene, another neighbor, stood pounding nonstop on her front door. Finally, she awoke and went to the door, albeit half asleep.
“What is it, Charlene? What’s so important that—”
“Somebody just shot Maurice! He’s lying on the ground bleeding like crazy,” yelled Charlene, while crying hysterically.
“What!” Denise could not believe what she was hearing.
“Someone shot your husband and he’s—” Charlene pointed to Maurice, and then rushed back down the stairs.
“No! No! No! Who did this? Why? My husband is a good man who works every day. He’s a family man and he would never hurt anyone. Why?” cried Denise.
“He’s gonna be all right,” said Julio, kneeling over Maurice, attempting to talk to him. But Maurice still lay unconscious.
“Maurice is a good man, Denise. God is watching over him, don’t worry. God will surely punish whoever did this,” interjected the landlord, Patricia.
Minutes later Maurice was rushed in an ambulance to the emergency room at Antelope Valley Hospital with his wife at his side. Denise cried hysterically during the ride.
The medical staff wasted no time performing surgery on Maurice in hopes to save his life. Luckily, the bullets had landed a quarter of an inch from his heart and didn’t do too much damage. Denise phoned several relatives from the waiting room, including her father, who was driving through New Mexico at the time, to enlighten them on what had happened.
When Tyrone made it back to his mother’s house, Bertha was passed out on the sofa as a result of too much gin and King Cobra beer. Momentarily, Karen was fingering herself while being entertained by porno movies in Tyrone’s bedroom. Her kids were lying next to her asleep.
“Daddy’s home,” Tyrone announced, walking inside the room as if nothing had happened. Then he began getting undressed.
“You’re right on time, baby. I need you and I need you right now. Bring it to me, daddy. Bring it on home to mama,” insisted Karen, getting more aroused and wet from the sight of his dick.
“We’re gonna make love, shorty, but we gotta talk, you know what I’m sayin’. No ifs, ands, or buts, about it, you know what I’m sayin, we gotta talk.” He then climbed on top of her and gave her what she’d been waiting for exactly how she wanted it. The kids remained asleep through all the sex cries, moans, groans, and movement, but Tyrone had suggested, when Karen initiated giving him head, to lay them on the living room floor.
After forty-five minutes or so of pleasurable sex, Karen was tired, worn-out, and sleepy, but Tyrone was fueled and ready to get something off his chest.
“Now it’s time for me to tell you what’s up, shorty,” Tyrone said, now in a totally different mood. “First of all, I ain’t gonna just sit back and accept you fuckin’ around with anotha nigga, you know what I’m sayin’? I’m a gangsta, shorty, and gangstas just don’t get down like that. I’ve got emotions invested in you, and like I told you before, I’m ready to settle down with you and the kids and leave all that criminal bullshit alone. You should respect that, you feel me? I ain’t ever met a female that made me feel like this, shorty, and now that I got you in my presence, I ain’t about to hand you over to any nigga, and that’s real talk.” His words were sincere, but they didn’t mean anything at all to Karen.
What have I gotten myself into? she thought. Give a thug a piece of pussy and a little head and the muthafucka falls in love. Who would think a thug knows how to love somebody? I didn’t even think they had feelings. Hell, it seems like a bip-bam-thank-you-ma’am would be more their style.
“Tyrone, listen. I—”
“I don’t wanna hear about you and that other nigga!” Tyrone yelled, furiously. Then he stood and put on his boxers.
“I told you I’m marrying him, Tyrone, so why you tripping?” She tried to play it off, but she was frightened by his cruel look and body language. She had never seen him behave in such a manner.
“How in the hell can you say you’re about to marry that nigga, but you’re fuckin’ and suckin’ me? What’s up with that picture, shorty?”
“Tyrone, I had no idea you were going to fall in love with me. That wasn’t a part of the plan.” She tried hard to reason with him, but he didn’t have any understanding of what she was saying.
“But I did!” he yelled. “I fuckin’ fell in love with you! I ain’t ever loved a female in my goddamn life! All I ever did was fuck ’em and forget ’em, but with you it’s different! Can’t you see? Don’t you feel me, shorty? I’m ready to quit gangbanging and leave all my homeys alone for you and that’s a big turn for a nigga like me! How can you just say fuck me, for another nigga when I’m the one who had you first? I can’t accept that, shorty, and I won’t accept that!” He then seated himself at the edge of the bed. They sat in silence until he revealed to her what had taken place in Lancaster.
“You did what!” Karen yelled. “Jermaine is on the east coast working, so you couldn’t have possibly shot him.”
“I’m tellin’ you, shorty, me, Capone, Ace Rat, and 8Ball went to Lancaster and I shot that nigga. That fool got a Jamaican accent, don’t he?”
“No, he doesn’t. Oh my God, Tyrone. You shot Maurice! He’s Jermaine’s daughter’s husband. Oh my God.”
“Well, shit, you shoulda fuckin’ told me there was more than one nigga living in that apartment. Hell, it’s too late now, so fuck it! What’s done has been done and I can’t take that back. Another one bites the dust, you know what I’m sayin’,” responded Tyrone, showing no remorse for shooting the wrong person.
Karen couldn’t figure out what to do. She knew that she couldn’t snitch on Tyrone, because that would disclose her relationship with him and would probably put her in harm’s way. After continually thinking about it, she then finally built the courage to phone Denise’s residence, but there was no answer. Next she decided to dial Jermaine.
She looked at Tyrone. “Please be quiet and don’t say anyt
hing to fuck this up. You’ve already fucked up enough.”
At first Tyrone was sitting next to her, calmly listening to her conversation, but after the jealousy kicked in he could no longer remain composed.
“What’s up, nigga! This is Killa T coming at you from Front Hood Compton Crips, nigga! Karen belongs to me, that’s it, and that’s all. If you got a problem with that, then come see me, nigga!”
“Tyrone, shh,” said Karen, holding her finger across her lips. Jermaine had heard someone yelling, but luckily he did not hear what was said.
“Who was that?”
She had to think quickly. “That’s my cousin and his friend trying to act like they’re gangsters.”
“Oh. Anyway, Maurice has been shot and I’m on my way back to California. He’s in a coma at Antelope Valley Hospital.”
“You’re kidding me,” responded Karen, playing dumb. “Why would anyone want to hurt Maurice?” she asked guiltily. She hadn’t even thought to ask how Maurice was doing. “Well, anyway, my uncle hasn’t gotten any better so I think I’d better spend another day or so with him. By that time you should be back and we can go to the hospital together.” She glanced at Tyrone who was pacing back and forth, angry as hell, but going alone with her game. “When do think you’ll be home?”
“Probably late tomorrow night. I think I’ll drive back without sleeping.”
“Whatever you decide to do just be careful, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay, sweetheart?”
“I can’t wait,” he said, fantasizing about the way she rode him. Then thoughtfully, he added. “I hope your uncle’s condition gets better more sooner than later.”
“Me too, honey. Take care, drive safe, and I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow night. Love you, bye-bye,” said Karen, while massaging Tyrone’s erection.
As soon as she hung up the receiver, Tyrone stood and then slapped the hell out of her.
Marriage Mayhem Page 4
