As D’Mann was about to steer the conversation toward finding out what Desirae really wanted out of life, he had to pause the conversation. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said. He stood up and walked into the kitchen to take the call.
For the few minutes Desirae sat alone in the living room while D’Mann talked on the phone in the kitchen, she looked around the room. She saw other details of how well laid out this house was that she hadn’t noticed the first time walking through the front door. Even more so than before, Desirae could tell that D’Mann must really be on his grind. There was just no way that a guy working at McDonalds would be able to have such a nice place.
D’Mann walked back into the living room. “What time did you say you needed to be back at your car, sexy?” he asked.
Desirae smiled, turning to his bulky body standing in the doorway between the living room and the dining room. “I just gotta pick up my sons from my cousin house around eleven o’clock,” she answered. “So, I guess I betta be back at my car by ten thirty or somethin’ like that. Why?”
“Bet,” D’Mann said, nodding. “If you don’t mind, my boy Makim bout to come through. He the nigga that I told you I was gon’ meet up with later on when a nigga swooped you up from the library and shit. He bout to bring this money over here, and we gon’ go down in the basement. You don’t mind, do you? I just ain’t think I was gon’ wind up chillin’ with you for this long. Don’t take a nigga the wrong way, I’d rather be chillin’ with you then lookin’ up in this nigga face. But he already got somethin’ on for later on, so a nigga betta go ahead and get this money before somethin’ happen.”
“Hell yeah,” Desirae said. “That’s coo with me.” She began to slide off of the couch. “Just let me get myself back together before he get over here.”
“Yeah,” D’Mann said. “If you want, you can actually go chill upstairs.” He looked at her bruised, scratched face. “And yeah, gon and put that ass up. I don’t want no niggas comin’ round my place seein’ what I got.”
“What you got?” Desirae asked, sarcastically. “So, what are you sayin’? After two days of knowin’ each other, I belong to you.”
D’Mann shrugged and smiled. “It is what it is,” he said. “Just get that pussy up so when the nigga come walkin’ through the door, he ain’t got his eyes on the wrong prize. Nigga gon’ make me slap his ass up over some shit like that, I don’t play. I respect women too much.”
Desirae slid her pants back on then her shirt. She stepped in front of a window in the dining room to check over her hair. She giggled, seeing that she really did look as if she’d just taken a deep dicking out in the living room. “I’mma have to get myself together,” she said.
As these words slipped out of Desirae’s mouth, her eyes zoomed in on her face. With time it was getting better, but D’Mann’s offer for her to go upstairs was actually not a bad idea. Desirae knew already that she’d be far too self-conscious if this Makim guy were to come into D’Mann’s apartment and look at her face. Even if his face didn’t say anything, and he never commented on it, Desirae would know what he was thinking. It was very clear that this chick had just recently let someone get the best of her.
“So, you gon’ chill upstairs or what?” D’Mann asked, rubbing Desirae’s ass.
Desirae nodded. “Yeah,” she responded. “I think I will. You sure you don’t mind? I don’t wanna disturb nothin’.”
“Disturb somethin’?” D’Mann asked, shaking his head. “Sexy, you can’t disturb anything I got. I ain’t got shit to hide from you. And yeah, of course you can chill up there. I know how women can be when it comes to havin’ strange dudes comin’ around that they don’t really know. And a nigga respect that. That’s why I offered for you to chill upstairs.” His eyes angled toward the ceiling. “Plus, it ain’t gon’ be that long anyway,” he added. “Maybe like fifteen minutes or somethin’, or some shit like that.”
“Okay,” Desirae said. She’d already begun to climb the steps.
“Well damn,” D’Mann said, holding his arms open. “A nigga didn’t say you had to go runnin’ up there already. I mean, shit. It’s gon’ take my boy Makim at least ten minutes, if not more to get here. Get that sexy ass back down here. That’s ten minutes I need.”
Desirae hurried back down the steps, giggling. When she got to the bottom, she playfully tapped D’Mann's broad, muscular shoulders. Quickly, he slid his hands around to her lower back then gripped her ass. “Plus,” he said. “If you already in the bed when I get done with this nigga and shit, if we got time, I might be able to give this dick to you for real. None of that quickie shit.”
“Oh,” Desirae said, smiling. “Is that so?”
“You gon’ surprise me?” D’Mann asked, giving Desirae the sleep-eyed looked. “You gon’ surprise a nigga when he come up there?”
“Surprise you?” Desirae asked, looking confused and snapping her head back. “What you sayin’, you want me to be naked and shit when you come up there?”
D’Mann shrugged. “Your words, not mine,” he said, playfully.
“Boy, stop,” Desirae said. “You are such a freak.”
“Ain’t that what you liked about me just yesterday?” D’Mann said.
Desirae paused, pushing D’Mann back from her. “Nigga, stop,” she said. “Your dude is about to come through here and here you are try’na fuck and shit before he get here.”
Moments later, there was a knock at the door. D’Mann slapped Desirae on the ass as she headed upstairs. “I’ll be up there in a minute,” he told her. “My bedroom is the second door to the right. Get comfortable. It’s time for me to get this money.”
Desirae climbed the steps, becoming more cautious as she reached the top. There she stood, looking left then right down the upstairs hallway. Behind her, coming from downstairs, she could hear D’Mann greeting Makim, who had a deep, raspy voice. Desirae could hear the two of them shaking hands and hugging before their voices trailed off, the thumping of their feet on the basement stairs in the background.
Desirae turned on the hallway light and saw that the hallway had freshly painted walls, or at least that was how they appeared. She turned to the right, passed one door then came to the second. When she pushed it open, she felt around on the wall to the side until she found the light switch. The room lit up.
“Damn, this shit is wassup,” Desirae said, quietly to herself. She stepped into the room, noticing how the cherry hardwood floors were as sleek as the day they were installed. A classy ceiling fan hung in the middle of the room, making its presence known over the top of D’Mann’s massive California King-sized bed. Desirae stepped up to the bed and lay down. “This is a fuckin’ big bed,” she said. “Maybe I will have to surprise the nigga when he come up here. I could get used to layin’ in this.”
Desirae then stood up, coming back to her senses. She walked down the hallway, looking into the other two smaller bedrooms then the bathroom. After looking around a little bit, not to mention opening a few cabinets and drawers here and there, it became very obvious to Desirae that the chances D’Mann had a chick staying over at his place on a regular basis were very slim. Even though he was clearly a neat and somewhat decorative man, there were no signs of a feminine touch anywhere. “Maybe the nigga really is single,” Desirae said, as she tried to push aside the feelings that many women deal with – the feeling that no available man will actually want them.
Desirae went back to D’Mann's bedroom and made herself comfortable. For the next several minutes, she sat there, in silence, as she could faintly hear D’Mann and his friend Makim talking all the way from down in the basement. Just as Desirae was closing her eyes to truly relax, she could hear the two men elevate their voices. Immediately, her eyes opened as she became more alert.
“Nigga, what the fuck I tell you?” one man shouted. Desirae couldn’t be sure, but this voice sounded like D’Mann’s to her. She stood up, walked back out into the hallway, and approached the top o
f the staircase. She stood in place, breathing steadily as she looked down toward the dining room and listened.
“What the fuck is this shit?” the voice said again. This time, Desirae was sure it was D’Mann talking. He said, “Nigga, I know you supposed to have more than this. Only one twenty…that’s all you fuckin’ got for me, nigga? Where the fuck is my money?”
“I told you, D’Mann,” the other man, Makim, said. “I told you I ain’t take that shit.”
D’Mann then said something that Desirae couldn’t quite make out. She stepped down one step. Her nerves were tingling as her woman’s intuition was telling her that something bad was about to happen. She rarely had this feeling. However, when she did, it was rarely wrong.
“Fuck you, nigga!” D’Mann yelled. “You coulda told me this shit over the phone. Instead, what you do? Come over here and waste my time and shit like I ain’t got betta shit I can be doin’. Nigga, why the fuck you try’na fuck with me.”
Desirae then heard what sounded like a scuffle.
“Nigga, fuck you!” Makim yelled. “You ain’t bout to talk to me like I’m just some bitch or somethin’. Nigga, fuck you!”
Desirae became alarmed as she could hear the two men pushing one another around in the basement. At first, it sounded as if bodies were hitting the wall. Then came the sounds of things breaking and fists hitting faces. Desirae wondered if she should run down there and try to do something about it. Just as she stepped down another step, she realized she was better off upstairs. From her point of view, the two men could only fight for so long before they’d eventually stop on their own.
For the next few minutes, Desirae stood at the top of the steps. Even from two stories up, she could hear Makim and D’Mann in a full-blown fist fight down in the basement. Curse words hurled about as if they were going out of style.
“I don’t like when niggas fuck with my money!” D’Mann yelled. “Nigga, fuck you!”
Split seconds after those words slipped out of D’Mann’s mouth, Desirae was rattled by a boom. For that moment in time, it seemed as if the entire house shook. She jumped up, a bit of a squeal slipping out of her mouth.
“I fuckin’ told you, nigga!” a man’s voice said. Desirae was unable to tell who it was this time. The man then said something that Desirae couldn’t make out.
Concerned, and quite frankly scared for her own life, Desirae quickly turned around. Walking as lightly and quickly as she could, she hurried back to D’Mann’s bedroom. She pushed the door closed, thanking the heavens above that it didn’t creak when she pushed it. Within the flash of a second, she’d turned the light off and was now standing in a corner, behind an opened closet door. The anticipation and fear were proving to be too much for her. She had no idea who had actually fired the gun, and no idea which man was still standing.
“Oh my God,” Desirae whispered to herself. “Shit, shit, shit.” The idea that Makim could have been the one to fire the gun did not sit well with Desirae. She suddenly felt like a prisoner. Her body wanted to make a run for it, rushing down the stairs and out into the streets to fend for herself. She wasn’t sure of the time, but she knew that it wasn’t too late to still catch a bus if she needed. However, the risk outweighed the reward at this point. If Makim had killed D’Mann and was now leaving the house, he could kill her because she would know something and could tell. Desirae really felt as if she was between a rock and a hard place.
“Oh shit,” she whispered to herself. Thumping began, coming up the basement steps. For a few seconds, Desirae tried to think if there was anywhere she could hide that would be better than where she was. She realized thinking about it wouldn’t do her much good, as she wasn’t in a house that belonged to her or that she knew her way around.
The footsteps sounded as if they made their way across the dining room. The steps of the staircase to the second floor then creaked. Slowly but surely, whoever had survived the fight then shooting was coming up the stairs. As they approached the top, Desirae could hear his heavy breathing.
God, please don’t let me die today, Desirae thought. Titan. James. God, please don’t let me die today. What about my sons? What about my twins? The possible scenarios, or endings to the scenarios, ran rampantly through Desirae’s head. She could feel her blood pressure rising as parts of her body broke into a sweat.
As Desirae feared for her life, the bedroom door pushed open and the light popped on. A scream slipped over her lips.
“Desirae?”
It was D’Mann. Hesitantly, she pushed the closet door until her eyes met with D’Mann. He reached for her.
“What the fuck happened down there?” Desirae asked, coming out of the corner. “Huh? What the fuck happened down there? Did you…? Did you kill him, D’Mann?”
D’Mann grunted, not liking that Desirae used the word kill. “I ain’t kill nobody,” he said, sounding defensive. He then calmed down, closing his eyes for a moment so that he could get himself back together. “Look, Desirae,” he said. “I had to.”
“You had to?” Desirae asked. She now looked at D’Mann’s bulky body. He was unable to hide how heavily he was breathing. “What the fuck you mean you had to? Why you have to kill him?”
“That nigga was gon’ kill me first,” he said. “He pulled a knife out and shit. I had to.”
Desirae calmed down. “So?” she said, trying to process everything. “Where is he now? Where is his…his…his body?”
D’Mann looked away. “You know,” he said, insinuating the basement. “Look, I’m sorry you had to be here to hear some shit like that happen. I swear to God I am. Now that I look back, I shoulda just waited till I took you back to your car. Oh my God, I feel so bad about this.”
“Well…,” Desirae said, looking around. “What are you gonna do with him?” she asked, still full of fear. “You can’t just leave him layin’ down there, D’Mann. In the basement and shit. I mean, what the fuck you gon’ do with him?”
“I don’ t know,” D’Mann said, the words struggling to come out of his mouth. “I don’t know what I’mma do with him yet, okay. His body just hit the ground and shit, so I ain’t even had time to think about it. I was so worried about you.” He stepped closer to her. “You was the first thing I thought about. That’s why I had to come up here to make sure that you was okay. I fuckin’ hate that I ain’t just take you back and do this shit later on like I was gonna do in the first place.”
“I can’t believe that I’m here for this,” Desirae said, shaking her head. “Wait a minute. Ain’t you gon’ call the police and shit? Maybe if you can get him to the hospital in time and shit, they can do somethin’ for him. Save him and shit so he ain’t got to die.”
“I ain’t goin’ to no damn police,” D’Mann said. “I ain’t goin’ to no fuckin’ police so they can just ask a bunch of questions and twist my answers to use against me. What the fuck? No fuckin’ cops.”
“So, what are you gon’ do?” Desirae said. “What you gon’ do with his body? Dump it downtown in the river or somethin’? You gon’ do some fuckin’ mob shit or somethin’? How you gon’ get rid of him without nobody knowin? What about his car?”
“I don’t know!” D’Mann snapped, almost scaring Desirae. He then calmed back down. “I don’t know. You act like I planned this shit or somethin’. The nigga came at me with a knife. I had to do somethin’ or else it would be me down there with my brains and guts and shit spilled out on the floor. Fuck that. Betta him than me, you know. That nigga was askin’ for it. Shorted me fifty then gon’ have the nerve to threaten my life when I said somethin’ to him about it.”
“Fifty?” Desirae asked. “Fifty what?”
D’Mann hesitated, looking Desirae in the eyes. Usually, he would be more secretive than James Bond about his business. However, he now realized he’d involved Desirae a little deeper than the usual chicks he kept around. There was no point in not telling her now.
“Fifty thousand,” he answered. “The nigga was short fifty thousand dolla
rs, makin’ up some bullshit about that’s all they gave him. Fuck that nigga. He should not’a been fuckin’ with a nigga’s money, either. Wastin’ my time and shit. Fuck him. I know you scared and shit, but I had to do it. Nigga pull a knife on me, and I’mma definitely kill him. No questions about it.”
Desirae stepped across the bedroom floor. Slowly, she sat down on the edge of D’Mann’s California King. “Is this really happenin’?” she asked, feeling like a character in a movie. “You just killed him and shit while I was standin’ up here?”
“Look,” D’Mann said, sitting down. “I ain’t mean to put you in some position where you might be in any sort of trouble or somethin’. Trust me… I put it on my life. When that nigga came walkin’ through the front door, I swear I never woulda thought that I’d have to kill his ass. Shit, a nigga ain’t even think that he’d ever pull a knife on me and shit like we out in the streets or somethin’.” He placed his hand on Desirae’s thighs.
“So, what?” Desirae asked, looking down at D’Mann’s hand. “Now, what does that make me? Your accomplice?”
“Accomplice?” D’Mann asked. “What the fuck you supposed to be an accomplice to? You ain’t do shit.”
“I’m not callin’ the police and shit,” Desirae said. “I mean, don’t that make me an accomplice?”
“I’m tellin’ you, Desirae,” D’Mann said. “Callin’ the police ain’t gon do shit but make our lives worse. Shit, they might even roll up in here and start to shootin’ niggas and shit. You know how they are and shit. Look, you can stay up here if you want and chill if you want.”
“And chill?” Desirae asked, leaning away from D’Mann. “What you gon’ do while I’m up in your bedroom chillin’ and shit?”
D’Mann leaned in. “You know,” he said, flatly. “You know I can’t leave the nigga down there and shit. I’mma have to do something.”
“What are you into?” Desirae asked. Normally, she might not get into a man’s business like this after only knowing him for a couple of days. However, on the flipside, she probably wouldn’t just so happen to be over at a guy’s place when he pulled a gun out and had to kill someone down in his basement. All of this was quickly becoming too much for Desirae. One side of her wanted to hide in the closet and act as if she’d never heard a thing. However, she also recognized that D’Mann was making a point. Calling the police would only make things worse and possibly pull the two of them into the legal system trap that was so hard to escape.
The Diary of a Side Chick 6 (SCD) Page 13
