Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 3

by K'Aliyah Knight

  “Stupido.”

  “Idiota.”

  “Loco en la cabeza!” someone else says, pointing to his head. But it’s all fun and games as people begin to laugh.

  Papa doesn’t pay anybody no mind. He continues to rap. Only stopping to let his hand run through his nappy afro. The saliva in my mouth instantly dries up. Before I can even look behind me to see if Nino has followed us into the living room or is chomping on food in the kitchen, papa steps toward me.

  I glare at my mom. She had gotten rid of him the last I known. Well, of course she lets the man that rapes me to come and go, my blood. But she lets him go sometimes when the black eyes are too much. Money first, right?

  My mom doesn’t even seem to comprehend the situation. Or doesn’t care.

  “Aye Mommi.” He grabs me up for a hug and his hands go straight to my ass. “You look good; like your mama, but younger.”

  “Papa please…”

  “The fuck!” That's Nino. A second later my father goes flying as Nino punches him in the back of the head. Everyone scatters in the tiny living room as my father tries to get his footing while holding the gash on the side of his head.

  “See stupid, you ready to go?” Nino thumps my forehead.

  I deserve this. I should have assured that my mom was no longer with my dad, or at least for this day.

  “Muthafucka!” one of my cousins shouts, “Don’t touch my prima like that!”

  He bucks up on my 20 year old cousin. You’d think my cousin would have said something to my father. Nope. It’s all about the blood. But Nino throws another haymaker his way too. My cousin goes flying towards the wall, breaking through the thin like paper.

  “I’ma go…” I tell the rest of my family.

  “Wait,” mom tries. “You know your papa is just… he was just happy you were here, ninita. Then that mutherfucka on your arms hit him! He hurt your papa!”

  “Nah, I don't wanna hear that.” I wave over my arm, realizing Nino is somewhere in his mind. More than having words for her, Nino would have popped her for even mentioning that he hurt my dad. Nino doesn’t see my father as my father because I’ve cried to him so many times about my dad.

  Before my dude and I pass the threshold back into the kitchen, my mom grabs my arm. I almost wince. She doesn’t know that under my long sleeve shirt, I’ve dealt with my own pain. But Nino doesn’t hurt me. He only makes me wiser.

  I wrestle my arm from her, gritting more from pain than anger.

  “C’mon, Zendaya. You’ve just come home!”

  Nino turns around in a flash. He has this one fear. Nothing in the world can scare my dude except the thought of me going home. I tell him that his home is my home. But my mom has just crossed the line. She’s spoken his only fear.

  “Her home is with me,” Nino spits in Spanish.

  “I wasn't talking to you.” Mom looks around at all the familia, expecting help if needed. But there have to be at least fifteen people in this crowded room; a code violation more than anything. They ain’t finna help.

  “Mom,” I stress, “We stayed long enough.”

  “You didn't eat,” she says. Her eyes flickering back and forth from Nino’s to mine. My baby is looking cocky as a muthafucka.

  “Mom,” I snap. She finna get me in a bunch of trouble when we leave here.

  “But I miss you, Zennie,” she sobs. Damn, this bitch is so stupid. Mama had me when she was 12. She really ain’t much older than I am. I want to cry. My eyes burn as I walk out with Nino. Truly, I love him. My family ain't any good. Hell, he really ain't either especially when he gets jealous and puts hands on me. He cares about y education, so I’ll stick with Nino for always…

  ROCKELL

  For days there was an intense ringing in my ear, almost as loud as the sound of the gun going off near my ear. Damn, the muthafucking devil himself must’ve squeezed the fuck outta my heart as Renzo pointed his Glock at me. The look in my nigga’s eyes tells me there was no stopping him from pulling that trigger. It took just a second to suck up that breath, realizing I was going to die. Nah, I’ve been living a nightmare ever since.

  Almost makes me wish that Lorenzo had taken me out, along with our unborn child. Weeks later my eardrums are still in pain. There’s an intense ringing in my ear.

  “Mrs. Medina,” the OBGYN gives a heavy sigh as she looks at me. Now, I know she is concerned about me once more. “Your son isn’t thriving as well as I would like.”

  “Son?” My eyes fill with tears.

  “Will Mr. Medina be able to attend your next appointment?” Dr. Socorro asks. It’s in the doctor’s eyes that Lorenzo came to each one of the twin’s doctor’s appointments. Fuck that, he was even at the hospital for the girls’ 18-month shots a few weeks back. Dr. Socorro had tried to speak with him then, but Lorenzo didn’t give a fuck. He certainly doesn’t now.

  “Lorenzo won’t be here…” I turn away.

  Dr. Socorro hands me the latest ultrasound photo of my three and a half month baby. I cradle it to my stomach, a stomach that ain’t nowhere near as big as it was with the twins. I could front and say that there were two, but nah; my belly was growing well with Lorenzo Junior too, back in the day. She pauses for a second. I just want to get off this damn contraption, and return to my nightmare. Lorenzo is finally home from his latest trip to God knows where, so maybe we could…

  Maybe one day soon he will return my affection.

  “Look, I know that there are two nasty ass thugs right outside,” Socorro pauses; she says something under her breath in Spanish, almost as if to curse my nigga’s goons. “But there are places that you can go if Lorenzo is hurting you.”

  “You’ve seen every part of my body,” I chuckle. Damn, that shit doesn’t even come out right, I sound like a madwoman.

  “Yes, I have. Besides your left ear going deaf, there’s nothing concerning me as to domestic violence. But do you know what domestic violence is, besides a black eye or busted lip?”

  I start to rise. When I step outside, two big ugly ass Colombians are right and left against the hospital room door. They nod for me to follow them as usual. These muthafuckas used to look at me when Lorenzo was away. Maybe even stole glances at my ass or my shape. Now, I may be pregnant, but for the love of my nigga, I keep my body just as right. It all makes me wonder how they murdered Chuey. They must have tortured Lorenzo’s cousin till his last breath because not even one of my husband’s goons glance my way any longer.

  Poor Chuey. I haven’t thought about him since the day I got shot at and Lorenzo left for the night with all of his hoodlums. Not a single word after that day. I know half the shit that I’m in stems from that dude, but I still have a soul so it doesn’t stop me from feeling sorry for him.

  On our way home, as I sit in the backseat of an Escalade alone as usual, I Google domestic violence. Nah, it ain’t just hitting, punching, kicking, slapping. None of which Lorenzo would ever do to me.

  At home, Miguel and Rita are cuddled up in the living room. I slowly pass by.

  “Rocky, baby, get in here,” she calls after me.

  “Mama Rita, you and those eyes in the back of your head,” I say, shaking my head and smiling.

  “Yes, I am.” My face twists up as she adds, “Nothing special, Rocky, dang.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama Rita.” I take a deep breath. “There’s no creativity in me anymore. I haven’t designed anything in years, or even picked a matching ensemble for my old designer store in… damn… years too.”

  “C’mon, mi Corazon, won’t it make you happy?” Rita asks.

  “Only one thing will make me happy,” I say, eyes to the plush rug beneath my Manolos.

  Miguel stands up. For the past few months, he has been the ying to Rita’s yang. He takes my hand, giving a fatherly pat. “Mi amor, you have to take pleasure in the simple things in life.”

  “Well, well,” Lorenzo says.

  I look up and he’s leaning against the door. Those thick dark eyelashes that once succe
eded in making this evil muthafucka look human almost do just that as he glares at me. “Look at my bitch. Moms, you better watch out. While this trick is pregnant for another dead ass bitch, Rocky might be tryna get at your dude.”

  “Lorenzo, get the fuck outta here,” Rita grumbles. Since she’s still seated, her back is to him. The anger on her face is hard, but she just waves him away like a fly.

  I take my hand from Miguel’s. They were just trying to turn my smile right-side up, but I stalk after Lorenzo.

  “If you’d just stop giving this nigga steps, he won’t be able to run over you,” Rita says as I rush out the room. My eyelid twitches with anger as I start after Lorenzo. Throat clogged, I stalk up to him as fast as my short legs will allow. Lorenzo turns around down the hallway.

  He grips my arm, yanks open the first door and snatches me into an office. We hardly even use this room, but the maid has polished all the heavy wood furniture. When this nigga tries to grip my ass, I slap the dog shit out of him.

  Unfazed, Lorenzo pushes me back onto the couch. “I don’t want to fuck, Renzo! You don’t even kiss me anymore.”

  “Nah, the fuck I look like? I don’t kiss any of my bitches.”

  “Your bitches?” I respond through gritted teeth. “I wanna divorce.”

  “You do? You wanna divorce, Mommi?” He acts as if surprised while gripping the front of my blouse. The buttons go ping ponging to the floor. Before I can respond, Lorenzo is kissing my right nipple while showing my left the pleasure of pain as it is squeezed through his fingers. Shit, I can’t even speak right now as his tongue twines around my rock hard nipple.

  Somehow I’m on my knees, blessing my husband with love. My hand clasps the thick, strong base of his dick, mouth wet even before I can get a single taste.

  Lorenzo

  Man, every time my wife takes to her knees, I fucking lose myself in love. How the fuck do I hate something so beautiful? Tho, I keep it strapped, I’ve been smashing hoes all week long, yet still can’t get this girl out my system. The female that I’ve loved since uh… fucking Baby Phat rompers.

  “You miss me?” Rocky’s little deceptively pleasing voice calls out.

  “Hell nah,” I say, legs planted wide. The fuck I need with her lies about loving me. I just need to concentration on not allowing this trick’s dome game to get the best of me before my dick gets a taste of that raining pussy. Got a nigga’s toes curling in his boots. Right before I nut up, I grip Rockwell’s neck and pull her up.

  Those pretty pink lips all wet and glossy almost hypnotize me for a second, but I haven’t kissed my bitch in a month. I don’t intend to do either. I turn my head away, and that sexy ass mouth of hers plants one on the stars tatted on my neck. Rockwell whimpers. She wants to say something. Fuck that. I turn her around, pull her skirt up, and yank her panties to the side.

  “Damnnnn…” I slip inside of that gooey, gooey and the sadness that Rockwell tried to hide when I didn’t allow her to kiss me on the mouth is no more. All she can do is moan. Rockwell steadies herself against the table, legs wide, ass tooted. Gripping her ass with one hand, I fuck my wife until her knees tremble.

  “Papi… Paaaa…” Lil mama is getting ready to orgasm so I nut right before she can. Fuck letting her cum.

  She stays there for a minute; hands gripping the wooden countertop and big breast heaving against a white satin bra. I start to pull up my jeans, eyes already roaming over her body. I’ma have to fuck my wife a few more times before I leave again. And damn, I need to leave again soon…

  Rockwell turns around at the sound of me zipping and buckling.

  “You dropped your stuff, Renzo…” Rockwell sighs, as she gazes at the few condoms that have fallen from my pants.

  I snatch them up and start to leave.

  “I don’t believe you just used one on me, Lorenzo.” Her guilty, sad little tone starts to get heated. I wave her off as she asks, “You do use those on all your hoes, right?”

  My hand is just about to graze the office door. I turn back around to look at this bitch. She really wants to keep it one hundred, then? “Ma, don’t fucking go there.”

  “Don’t fucking bring me no diseases!”

  “The fuck I look like giving a fuck about you, bitch? But what’s more, I ain’t finna burn myself or get bodied over no pussy. So me being straight, means you being straight. If anything,” I point to my chest, “I’m the muthafucka that should be asking questions. You do recall the first and last time I went to the doctor for you and that bastard in your belly—”

  “Bastard?” Her mouth falls.

  “Yeah, Rocky. I talked to Dr. Socorro. She said yo’ ass is straight. So now that I don’t have to worry about you fucking nobody then we straight.” I turn back to the door, done with this girl.

  She busts up laughing. “We’re good, Renzo, are we good papi?”

  I don’t even have time for this female as I start out the room. My mind is on the next meeting with Hernandez and Emerald. Those muthafuckas are more educated on the cartel than my Tio Santiago. Yet, my street smarts are going to make me king.

  “What if I am still fucking around on you, Lorenzo?” I hear Rockwell ask.

  I look back and this little half-pint doll is right up under me. I just smile. I’ve got eyes on my eyes. My goons so fucking afraid to look this bitch’s way that they have just about learned sign language.

  “Then I’d have to use a condom, right?” I shrug, giving in to the bullshit. Or maybe it’s me missing arguing with my ex-childhood best friend.

  “Not funny.” She follows me up the stairs and into our bedroom. I start to unpack and she begins to place new, folded boxers and undershirts in my Louis Vutton luggage she bought me.

  “You’re leaving soon right?” Rockwell snaps. “Might as well stay ready.”

  I nod, knowing this shit hurts her and it will ever hurt me. “You right, ma, lemme pack up so I can go soon.”

  Water pools in her hazels. Rockwell doesn’t ask for anything anymore. Not one thing, but she doesn’t want me to go. I grab the brandy from the fireplace mantel, pure myself a triple and sit on the chair as she continues to pack the luggage on the bed.

  With her back to me, I can just hear her sniffling. “Well one day while you’re gone, I’m leaving to.”

  “That’s a fucking negative, girl. You gotta take care of my kids.”

  “I’ll leave them with your mom…”

  I chuckle. “Moms tryna catch a fucking lame. She is getting married.”

  “Then Blu or Lakitha.”

  “Lala is tryna get me to allow her to return to New York; she won’t fuck me over like that. Blu’s on my team since you fucked Ch—”

  “I NEVER FUCKED CHUEY!” she shouts so hard that her tiny body almost falls.

  I laugh again, more to irritate her than anything. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Chuey

  Five months later…

  Either a muthafucka is getting paranoid, or I can’t trust a got-damn person in this piece. Every day a bottle of Jack is in my hands, every night Rockwell Medina is on my mind. How the fuck did shit turn out like this?

  I spent weeks upon weeks working with our internal team, confirming that I hadn’t gotten in too deep while undercover. Emerald and Hernandez were helpful. I thought these muthafuckas had switched teams the day Santiago’s bitch ass got stole on by a fucking street-urchin.

  As I sit in the luxurious loft that I own with Yovanda, I lean against the glossy counters of the wet bar, pouring myself another shot. I take another shot of Jack Daniels. That shit makes me laugh. I didn’t even know the team was in the area. They were on an investigation for something so muthafucking unrelated that it doesn’t make any sense. One of the leads is my old Quantico buddy when we first got into the Feds. He spotted Lorenzo’s goons pulling me into that shack in the middle of no fucking where.

  I should have died. There’d be no paperwork. I wouldn’t have to explain how I went from being one of Santiago’s r
ight hand men to a fucking enemy of the Medina Mendoza familia. I AM THE FUCKING FAMILY.

  My cell phone buzzes. It’s not my work one, but I snatch it up and answer. If for some odd reason, Rockwell resurrects from the dead and says hello…

  “You ready to deal with your … primo?” Santiago asks.

  “You fucking mean mi hermano, my brother, huh?” I ask. This drink has me at 100. Saying that I know Lorenzo is my brother makes me want to puke.

  Santiago breaths heavily, sighing, “Mayté?”

  “Yeah, my mom, your wife told me that you fucked your own sister. Lorenzo is my hermano. Is that true?” This is fucking stupid, but I ask anyway.

  “Margarita is beautiful.”

  “You’re fucking disgusting.”

  “I am what I am, Santiago Junior,” he spits back.

  “The fuck you calling me that for. Chuey or…” I look around at my surroundings, “Or Caesar will do. That is all. Actually, that ain’t all. I feel stupid even tryna get into your head. Guess it’s all those sociopathic seminars and courses I took for the feds, but why the fuck do you have me tryna dig a grave for your own son? Lorenzo is your first born son.”

  “Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t… Neither margarita nor Mayté are the first bitches I ever screwed. To be fully honest, I’ve even got a cousin that …” he chuckles.

  This shit curdles my stomach. Incestuous bastard. “Don’t call my mom or my Tia Rita a bitch, a’ight?”

  “Look Chuey, you are my don. You and Sean are the only legitimates that I kinda give a fuck about. If I could go immortal, then fuck all y’all. But in my current situation, you must take the throne of the Mendoza De Dios. Lorenzo’s bitch ass wants it.”

  “Man, I don’t give a damn about the fucking Mendoza De Dios. I told you that shit from jump. My only mistake? Not going to med school instead of rehashing an old desire to get my father’s respect. I have nothing.”

  “You have nothing?” Santiago makes it seem implausible.

  “Rocky…” I down my drink as tears burn my eyes.