For weeks and weeks Storm stuck to his word and stopped drinking altogether. The only fluid that was now constantly up to his lips were ice-cold water and the juices that flowed out of Kenya’s forever wet twat. O.T. had helped him hook the basement up with weights and other gym equipment that he needed to get back right to his usual self. Dedicated, he spent every free moment and waking minute on getting his body tight. As the days past, he was slowly gaining back the pounds and muscle mass that he’d lost while being held captive, then bedridden. He was transforming into looking like the old Storm who Kenya first fell in love with.
Even, to Kenya’s surprise, London stopped complaining so much and being judgmental. She was being much more tolerant and civil to Storm as well. The two of them weren’t arguing as much and London was even sharing responsibilities, helping Kenya out with the housework more often. Yet poor, naive Kenya had no idea that the true reason London was lending a helpful hand was so that she could smell Storm’s T-shirts and dirty underwear every chance she got. The high point of London’s day would come when she’d carry the laundry basket in the basement to wash and get an up-close and personal show of Storm’s perfect body pumping iron.
“Girl, thanks for looking out for me with some of this cleaning.” Kenya hugged her twin, happy that things were settling down. “You know Gran blessed you with all the secrets in keeping a neat house, anyhow.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” London winked at her twin, being sarcastic. “What’s yours is mine, so I wouldn’t leave you hanging. Like I said, it’s nothing.”
“Yes, it is. I want you to know that you’re really appreciated and that I love you, London!”
“We sisters, girl!” London gave Kenya a halfhearted smile and a hug, smelling Storm’s scent on her twin’s shirt. “You should know by now that I’ve got your back.”
The two finished getting the condo together because they were having a special dinner later that evening. It would be Kenya, Storm, Paris, O.T., and London. Kenya trusted in the changes that were taking place in London when it came to O.T. It seemed just like a snap of the finger, London was no longer attracted to O.T. It would be days when O.T. stopped by to hang out with Storm that London wouldn’t even come out of her room to even say hello. She stayed asleep most days, acting as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She’d stopped talking about returning to college or Detroit altogether.
Whatever jumped off to keep the two of them from messing around again behind Paris’s back, Kenya was overjoyed and didn’t question it. She never did get around to having a long conversation with London about what really went down the day that Storm saw her and O.T. in the hallway, so Kenya let her imagination work for itself, then put it completely out of her mind. Putting two and two together was easy. But nevertheless, things were back on track all around, with the small exception of the ongoing Paris, O.T., Chocolate Bunny saga, which was a hot topic that raged on nightly at the club.
The table was set and everything was picture-perfect for the evening. Kenya, with London’s help, cooked enough food to feed a small-sized army. The huge celebration feast consisted of everything from hot country fried chicken, pot roast smothered in homemade brown gravy and catfish, to fresh collard greens, candied yams, and black-eyed peas. The girls had outdone themselves just as their grandmother had taught them.
Paris and O.T. arrived to the condo on time. They planned on having an early supper because Kenya was due down at the club by eight that evening and couldn’t be late. She tried to get someone to fill in for her, but had no success. She was the only voice of reason at the club and things had a habit of going crazy when she wasn’t there. O.T. wasted no time disappearing into the basement where Storm was just finishing up his workout, leaving all three females alone in the kitchen area.
“Hey, Paris,” London spoke as she inspected her sister’s best friend’s shape. Paris had packed on at least fifteen pounds or more since London had last seen her. “What have you been up to lately? Where have you been hiding?”
“Not much.” Paris shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve just been taking it easy, trying to get my mind right.”
“Oh, okay, it’s just that I haven’t saw you around here very much.” London grilled her sister’s best friend, still stunned by Paris’s big physical change. “Is all well with you?”
Kenya saw the direction that her slick-mouthed twin was headed and jumped in to rescue Paris from all the questions. “Do me a favor, London.” Kenya wiped her hands on the plaid-colored dish towel. “Can you go and call the fellas up while me and Paris start bringing the food to the table?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” London happily left to go in the basement. If she was lucky, maybe Storm still had his shirt off. The aroma of the various foods was making her dizzy anyway, as well as the intense heat from the oven.
When London was clearly out of ear range, Kenya apologized for her twin sister being so damn nosy. “Girl, she didn’t mean to be all up in your shit like that. She just was concerned, that’s all. She don’t know any better.”
Paris grabbed one of the china platters with the chicken on it and headed toward the brightly-lit dining room. “Don’t worry. I don’t mind. I guess I do look like a mess with all this extra weight that I’m hauling.”
“Stop tripping, you tight, girl.” Kenya followed behind her friend with a big bowl of greens in her hands.
“You don’t have to lie. I know that this fat shit ain’t cute.” Paris lowered her head in shame, on the verge of tears. “But I can’t help it. That fool got me so messed up in the head I can’t think straight half the time!”
“Stop being so down on yourself.”
“I can’t help it, Kenya! Do you know that O.T. hasn’t touched me in over two and a half weeks now?” Kenya consoled her friend as she sobbed. “He barely even comes to the crib until daybreak. He claims that he’s out hustlin’, but I know that nigga is lying. He cheating with some ho!”
Before Kenya got a chance to hear the entire story, London returned with both guys trailing behind.
“Damn, that shit smells good!” Storm rubbed his flat-abs as he took a seat at the head of the long marble table. “I’m about to throw the hell down!”
O.T. followed his brother’s lead and sat at the other end. After all the food was laid out and the girls sat down, Storm blessed the gathering before the first fork was placed to anyone’s lips. Two or three seconds after that the shit was on! The guys acted like they’d never had soul food before as they devoured everything that they piled on their plates, getting seconds and even thirds of some dishes. The only dinner conversation that was taking place consisted of girl talk and the sounds of grunting.
It was close to seven and the group was just about done with eating. Kenya was bringing an apple pie to the table for dessert when O.T.’s cell phone started to ring, causing Paris to suddenly flip out.
“Damn! Can we have one day in peace when that ho of yours ain’t blowing up your fucking phone?”
“Don’t start with me, Paris. I ain’t in the mood for that dumb shit now!” Fed up with her constant accusations, O.T. walked away from the table shaking his head. “I’ve got something to go handle.”
“Yeah, right!” Paris reached back, trying to hit him as he walked passed. “You ain’t shit but a cheating liar. We all know! The people at the club know! The people in the street know! Hell, even the old Chinese lady at the dry cleaner’s knows you a cheating piece of garbage!”
Kenya leaned over and wrapped her arms around Storm’s neck, who was still seated at the table. “Baby, oh, my God, can you say something, please?”
“I love you like a motherfucker, Kenya, but I don’t get in the middle of no couple’s bullshit.” Storm cut himself a piece of pie as he remained silent, watching his baby brother and Paris go at it. “And trust me, you don’t need to either!”
London was especially enjoying the long evening observing both couples at each other’s throats. At first she felt like a third wheel and out
of place; now she was happy not to be either of the girls.
O.T. took Paris’s car keys off the couch and trotted out to her car, leaving her stranded without a ride to get home.
“Damn, I hate him! I swear I do!” she huffed.
“Don’t worry, girl. I’ll drop you off on my way to Alley Cats.” Kenya patted her friend on the back as she snarled at Storm, who was still nonchalantly stuffing his face with pie. “Just let me grab my purse and we’ll be out.”
Paris and Kenya left London and Storm home alone. On the ride to drop her off at her and O.T.’s apartment, Kenya was having a hard time trying to comfort an almost panic-stricken Paris. The loud, piercing cries from her were coming close to causing Kenya to swerve off the highway. She already needed a few aspirin for the headache she was suffering after her disagreement with Storm, but this was much worse.
“Why don’t you go inside and try to get some rest? It’s been a long day.” Kenya tried her best to convince Paris to calm the hell down, go inside, lie down, and relax.
“You right, girl. I’m just gonna go in there and chill ’til his ass comes home—then trust, it’s back on!”
Kenya blew the horn once as she drove off toward Alley Cats.
LONDON
“Dang, I guess this dinner party is over, huh?” Storm was polishing off his last piece of pie that was on his plate, not paying attention to a word coming out of London’s mouth. “Are you listening to me?” London threw a napkin at Storm to get his attention. “Can you speak or what?”
“Dang, slow your roll, London. Can a guy eat his dessert in peace or what?” Storm pushed his chair back from the table and patted his bloated, full stomach. “Y’all females around here doing way too much for me tonight. Well, I might as well go in the basement and do a little cardio to work this shit off.”
“Excuse me. Despite what all of you people around here think, I’m not the damn maid!” London grew infuriated that she was ultimately left the task of cleaning up.
“Where the hell is you going with this bullshit? I know your ass know for a fact that I ain’t about to bust no suds for nobody.” Storm stretched out his arms, yawning. “So, for real, if that’s where you going with this conversation, you can cut that mess out right now!”
“Forget it! Just go work out with your lazy self!”
“Lazy? Wow, your ass is the one that needs to hit the gym. I mean, I ain’t being in your business, but you is getting a little thick around the waist, London! You and that damn Paris both getting out of order and need to hit a gym.”
“Just go somewhere, lazy Negro, while I clean up!”
“Come on now, London, is this the body of a lazy motherfucker?” He lifted his shirt, exposing his eight-pack abs.
London controlled herself from leaping across the table and attacking Storm the same way he’d attacked her months earlier. “Whatever!” She looked the other way as quickly as possible and started removing the dishes, taking them in the kitchen. Once again, she started to feel dizzy and stumbled.
Storm felt sorry for her and grabbed a few of the dirty plates and followed in the kitchen behind her. When he turned the corner he saw London bending over in the refrigerator putting stuff away and had a brief flashback. “Damn! Why do I keep seeing that shit?”
“Did you say something?” London stood up, turning around to face him.
“Naw, I was just talking to myself.” Storm shook off his strange thoughts as he rubbed the deep scar that was still on his neck.
“Does it still hurt?” London smirked, starting the hot dishwater in the sink. Her heart was beating double-time as she experienced flashbacks of her own. After all, they were back to the scene of the crime, so to speak. “It was pretty deep.”
“What are you talking about? What you know about my neck?” Storm was puzzled that she’d even noticed him touching it.
“You can cut all the games out, Storm. It’s been months and you see I haven’t said a word to anyone. It’s our little secret.”
“Huh?” Storm was confused and his facial expression showed. “Stop playing around and tell me what the fuck you trying to say?”
“Come on now, are you serious? You don’t remember?” London glanced down at the floor and raised her eyebrows.
“Remember what?” he asked again. “What the hell is your crazy-ass talking about now?”
“I’ve got to finish washing dishes.” London laughed, still not believing that Storm had truly forgotten their sexual encounter. “We’ll talk about it later—one day.”
Storm left out the kitchen and headed toward the basement to try to figure out what his woman’s twin sister wanted him to remember. Whatever the hell it is, something tells me it can’t be nothing good! After months of being sober, Storm snatched a bottle of Rémy off the bar cart to keep him company and help him possibly remember.
19
I’m In Shock
Shit, it’s crowded already. Kenya pulled around to the other side of the parking lot to make sure that security was patrolling the entire perimeter. She cut her lights off so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself as she crept up. What she saw next made her headache start to pound worse. It was O.T. sitting back in Paris’s car, talking to Chocolate Bunny, who was leaning in the window practically in the driver’s seat.
After five minutes of her watching their every movement like a hawk, Kenya wanted to beat the shit out of Chocolate Bunny her damn self. Matter of fact, she wanted to stump O.T. in his fucking ball sack for playing with her girl Paris’s emotions. She knew it was time for her to step in and do something about Chocolate Bunny once and for all. “This idiot gonna mess around and get AIDS one day,” Kenya snarled under her breath, as she looked at Chocolate Bunny stuff some cash in her bra and wave to O.T. as he peeled out in Paris’s car. “Flat out, I gotta get rid of that black no-good gutter rat.”
“Hey Kenya, what’s the game plan for tonight?” The head of security, Boz, was busy trying to get things straightened out before things really got off the hook.
“Same old same.” She looked up toward the center stage at Jordan shaking her ass in front of a group of middle-aged customers who were posted on perverts’ row. “Just make sure that all the girls circulate around the club and don’t spend all night catering to one fool trying to slow pimp all his cash.”
“You got it, boss. I’m on top of it!” he reassured Kenya. “Don’t worry about nothing. I got you!”
Everything was flowing smoothly on the nightshift. Kenya sat on her favorite seat at the long bar and observed the crowd enjoying themselves. Most of the dancers were either up in VIP or humping on a guy’s lap, doing something strange for some change. The DJ was working the high-priced light system and had the sounds spinning. It would definitely be a good moneymaking night for the club.
“If you fellas’ nature stood tall and hard for that last honey that worked that brass pole, you’ll love this next prime-time delight. Alley Cats is home base to this lovely dark meat. She’s the warmest, wettest, freakiest thang walking around these-here parts.” The DJ dimmed the lights low as he got the crowd going. “Chocolate Bunny, bring your wide twerkin’ ass up on that center stage and do the damn thang!”
Kenya walked behind the bar and poured herself a small glass of wine. She studied Chocolate Bunny dancing and wondered what it was that made men like her. In Kenya’s opinion she wasn’t sexy or cute. The only thing that Kenya saw in the whore was that she had a big butt; a big butt that seemed to be spreading out a little bit more than normal for her taste, but the tramp was still bringing in revenue to the club and at the end of the day that was all that mattered. In her line of business, cash was king.
As Kenya sat drinking her second glass of wine, her opinion about the constant thorn in her and Paris’s side started to change. That tramp is gaining too much weight. Matter of fact, I’m gonna give her trick-ass a few weeks off to drop that shit or get fired altogether. Kenya finally found a way, after months of plotting, to get Chocolate Bunn
y out of Alley Cats without Storm or O.T. feeling like it was being done out of spite. After all, rules were rules. Each dancer had to maintain a certain look to be on the schedule and it was plain to see Chocolate Bunny was no longer fitting that status. As soon as she goes back to the dressing room to switch up on her outfits, I’m gonna break the bad news to her trifling butt.
Kenya raised her glass to her perfectly glossed lips and slowly sipped the rest of her wine. After two more songs dancing on center stage, Chocolate Bunny was done with her set.
CHOCOLATE BUNNY
“I’m happy for you,” Jordan lied with a straight face. “What are you going to name the baby? Is it a boy or a girl?”
“It’s gonna be a boy. I’ll probably name him after his big-head daddy.” Chocolate Bunny was in the dressing room, bragging about being pregnant and the fact that her and her mystery man had just put a huge down payment on a new house.
She wasn’t fooling everyone with all that top-secret hush-hush shit about the baby’s daddy. All the girls in the club would see her all up in O.T.’s face day in and day out, laughing and giggling. They weren’t blind or stupid. Jordan tried her best to pry the private information out of Chocolate Bunny or at least make her slip up and finally admit the shit, but wasn’t successful. She was keeping that close to the vest.
“This week is gonna be my last grindin’ up in this here motherfucker. My man wants me to sit on my ass and raise his son.” Chocolate Bunny affectionately stared down at the tiny bulge that was growing and smiled. “I’m ready to retire out this game anyway and get my life back together. Maybe I’ll go back to school or something productive like that.”
Ruthless and Rotten Page 14
