by Love Belvin
Sentiments from last night began to flood my brain. Sofia confronted me in a drunken rage, disgorging unbalanced facts. Worst of all, Bilan believed each one, including the possibility of me fucking around on her. Feeling remnants of anger, I turned away, rubbing my eyes. I’d told her not to bother Sadik. She needed the rest. We’d gotten in late last night. I guess a mother’s love trumped father’s orders.
One week…
We’d been married just over a week and fought nearly each day. This isn’t what I wanted for her, for them. For us.
I leaned over and lifted my son from the bed. He stirred in my hands as I kissed his soft cheek, carrying him to his crib on the other side of the room. I placed him inside and watched him drift back off with pride. Sadik made me feel grand and accomplished. I had so much to look forward to in his development.
But first…
My gazed swept across the room to his mother still asleep. I traversed the room, arriving at her side of the bed. Laying asleep, Bilan appeared a different human being than she was when she flipped out. Last night wasn’t her usual meltdown. It was her spazzing the fuck out. Jealousy was an unnecessary virtue with me as far as she was concerned.
I pulled down the comforter and reached for her leg, turning her onto her back. Slipping between her legs, I forgave her for the gown I had to roll up to get to her naked pussy. My treasure. The musky scent had my balls pulsing. I trailed my tongue between her thick labia. When I brushed over her clit, her pussy leaped into my face. I scooped her ass cheeks in my hands and lifted her closer to me. Bilan’s puss first thing in the morning was better than any breakfast served on a plate. It was just as pretty as it was delicious.
Her thighs spread wider, hands found their way to my scalp in a deep grip. She rocked slowly into my face. Above the bed of her pubic hairs I found her gazing down on me with tight, lazy eyes and her bottom lip between her teeth. I stabbed my tongue into her wet cavity, causing a deep groan from her. She lifted the gown over her breasts, revealing beautiful mounds with pebbled apexes. Her eyes rolled back and back bowed over the bed.
When I started sucking on her swollen nub, her thrusts to my face increased. Her whimpers turned into full moans, the sound putting increasing pressure on my swelling cock against the mattress. Our cadence synced and that’s when I knew she was ready to detonate.
I rose to my knees, releasing myself from my boxers.
“Sadik…” her cry was thick, guttural as I fisted myself.
I lay over her, swiping my sensitive head over her slit to wet myself. When I pushed into her, Bilan shivered similar to last night in the limo. This time, she had the benefit of her hands and her nails bit into my ass as I rocked into her wetness. She was warm, snug, and so inviting. Her muscles relaxed when I thrusted in and spasmed when I pulled out.
“New day, better us,” I grunted, enjoying feeling the back of her walls.
One of her soft hands moved up to the back of my head while the other gripped my ass, inspiring my dives into her. Beneath me, she was soft, but not fragile; greedy, but collected. Slamming into her, I felt absolute and able to meet any need she may have.
“I want us to come…together today,” I wheezed, my hands moved to cup her ass, mouth buried into her neck. The faster I rocked into her, the wetter she became. Her pussy clenched around me, propelling my explosion. “Come. Now, Nalib!”
I thrusted and thrusted and bit into her neck, then sucked it. Within seconds, Bilan shuddered beneath me, setting off my own flight into orbit. Her pussy quaked as she threw it on me over and over again. My mind whirred until all I felt was her. All that existed was Bilan and me. I could live here. Shit, I’d fight to live in an empty space with just me and my treasure: my wife.
“Took you long enough,” Rory hissed as I gaited into the garage, pulling on my suit jacket.
“I had shit to address.”
“Shit to address?” Rory asked as Johnson slipped behind the wheel of the Maybach.
“Yeah,” I responded, straightening the collar of my jacket. “Pussy to eat to answer to the bullshit my wife witnessed last night.”
“Oh, that?”
“Yeah.” I scoffed as she held the door for me. “That. Now, what are you going to do to address it?”
Rory lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I ain’t do shit, and I got cussed the fuck out.”
I shook my head. “You got cussed out because you handled Sofia with a fuckin’ tucked tail.”
“I was tryna be respectful!”
“It doesn’t work that way with women in my world, particularly with my wife.”
“Fuck you mean? You ain’t never have a wife before—shit, a wifey either. How the fuck I’m ‘posed to know how to handle shit?”
“Then imagine how the hell I feel every day. At least I use common sense and not make the old chick feel half as significant as the wife.”
“The fuck I do?” she squealed.
“You called her ‘mami’ and ‘Sofee’ instead of addressing her by her full name, and you were pleading with her to leave. Even my ‘fuck outta here’ game would’ve been better than that. But I couldn’t use it because it would’ve looked very suspect to everyone around, especially to my wife.”
There was no way I’d lose my cool over a woman other than Bilan. Doing that would make me appear emotionally attached, something I was not.
“So I was ‘posed to manhandle shortie?”
“Eliminate the threat respectively. It’s what you’re paid to do, not fuckin’ negotiate!”
“A’ight.” She took a step back, cupping one hand over the other at her pelvis. “So what the fuck I’m ‘posed to do now? I can’t eat her pussy.” Her big eyes widened, shoulders lifted, and head bobbled.
I chuckled at her being rattled. “You forget you’re a woman, Bean? I’ll let you figure that shit out.” Rory rolled her eyes. I moved to get inside the car, then stopped with a thought. “I’m going to text you a link. Have it delivered to her this afternoon.”
Her eyes ballooned. “Some shit from me to B?”
I snorted, “Hell no. I’m still trying to apologize. You ain’t get started yet. This is my ‘I’m sorry’ gift.” I laughed so hard, reaching for my stomach. “You’re on your own with that one.”
Her mouth tightened to keep the expletives to herself, but I knew they were seeping. “We got big fish today. Popov sent a special delivery to the warehouse.” She tossed her head to gesture the house.
“My father’s?”
She nodded. “I had Jamil lift it and take it to the hideout spot.”
Finally, I ducked to get inside the running car.
“Fuck!” Johnson gawped, and Rory and Jamil leaned back from the large box.
We were at a commercial building I owned and used for privacy when my business buildings weren’t appropriate. We’d just arrived to find Jamil here waiting with the white Styrofoam box taped shut. Johnson cut the tape and lifted the lid for an unexpected discovery.
“A head?” Jamil asked angrily. “A fuckin’ human head?”
Then Johnson croaked, “His fuckin’ eye missing!”
“This muthafucka crazy as shit.” Rory laughed, clapping her hands. “S.Q.E., ‘member we did some shit like this to them Bronx niggas?”
Ignoring that question, I asked, “And how do we know Popov sent this?”
Rory tossed her chin to Jamil, who grabbed a manila envelope and handed to me. As I opened it, a phone rang. Rory walked to the corner, taking a call.
There were several documents inside the envelope, one the same of what I’d read from Jefferson’s documented account. The others were complementary to it. They had a name specified as USSR “confidential informant” and the terms of his agreement. Farther into the details was The Commission with a list of its members’ names. Paperwork from the FEDs is limited information since their work is done surreptitiously and, nowadays, more electronically. However, it seemed Popov was able to get his hands on the official record detailing the r
elationship with this man and the Federal Bureau of Investigations. On one piece of paper was a number handwritten in large print.
“A’ight.” Rory dropped the phone from her ear, turning to me. “That was J-Dot, saying he on his way in. Look like the nigga, Popov, sent another piece to Ellis International.”
Less than two minutes later, J-Dot pushed through the door, holding a smaller box. After the prompting of a nod from me, Johnson retrieved the box and cut the tape with a blade.
When he removed the lid, he nodded with puckered lips. “The muthafucka’s thorough.”
I shifted closer to the boxer and caught a purple tongue and bloodied eyeball laying on ice. Popov was making a statement. It wasn’t him communicating with the FBI. It was this man.
I sat on the edge of the desk and took a deep breath. “Get him on the line.” I handed Rory the paper with the number.
She dialed it and handed over a burner phone. In two rings, I was surprised to discover it was Popov who answered.
“So now we know, hmmm?” He breathed heavily, accent thick and voice taut.
“I don’t know shit.”
“Let me catch you up. I’m no rat. After your accusation, I needed to find out how true it was. So I did a sweep in my house. The face you’re looking at is Afanasi. He was a driver for me. His time in America has been too long. He feared the fucking government here, so you have his head.” He snickered. “What a joke, an embarrassment to Rossiya nation. He saw too much, so I cut out his eye. He spoke to the weak Yankee authorities, so you have his tongue. My gifts to Double E Bags. Now, our business can resume, hmmm?”
Unable to rip my eyes from the horror frozen on the head next to me, I allowed an abbreviated pause.
“No.”
“No?”
“Your chauffeur boy here is a registered criminal informant with the FBI. You didn’t just clean house, you gave that ‘weak’ agency an invitation to your front door. My father keeps a respectable distance from the authorities. But…” I turned to the blue head. “…your gift was generous. I would share how to profit off Afanasi’s organs, but you Russians are far ahead in intelligence, right?”
“This isn’t over, Ellis. You remind your father he’s the largest disseminator in New Jersey. There’s no way I can continue to lose that type of money. Who is his new supplier anyway?”
“Earl Ellis isn’t in the business of sales or distribution of any illegal goods, Popov. This chat was cute, though.”
I heard him snort on the line. Popov knew I was curving him as much as I understood his threat. This wasn’t over. My father would have to answer to him. Popov had been losing millions without my father’s business.
“V kontse terpeniya smert' zhdet. Do you know what I said?”
I scratched the back of my head. “I’m not fortunate enough to have learned your language.”
“I said ‘at the end of patience, death awaits.’ When I’m done with Double E Bags, there will be nothing left for your son to gain. What’s he? Almost three months now?”
A chill surged in my spine at the mention of my legacy.
With pouted lips, I nodded. “A wise man taught me to never overestimate your power based off of ‘theater of the mind.’ Do you know what that means?”
“Ehh,” he hummed with condescension. “Enlighten me.”
“Theater of the mind is what you imagine. Those thoughts that act out in your favor and entertain you. It’s safer to stick with empiricism. The Ellis name has been tried and proven. I’m not the ‘crazy nigga’ you saw coming. I’m the persistent, calculating monster you’ll meet at the end of your patience. When I’m called, it’s personal and permanent.” I motioned my men to wrap up the boxes. They’d be sent to an incinerator. “Wield your patience with wisdom.”
I heard when Popov disconnected the call. When I pulled the burner back, it was black.
“What we ‘posed to do with this?” Rory asked, holding her nose.
“Burn it.” I stood from the desk. “I just bought us some time with him. How much, I don’t know.” I waggled the papers in the air. “These need to be confirmed today.”
“You want me to hit Double E’s peeps with a heads up?” Jamil asked.
“Nah.” I scratched my chin. This was above my father. Popov had access to my wife and threatened my kid. “It’s only going to get kicked back to me anyway.”
“Facts.” He nodded, pinching the hairs on his chin. “We got a dope ass round of soldiers for this war, boss.”
“No fuckin’ cap,” Rory confirmed.
Music to my ears…
We may have just commenced the biggest war we’d ever undertaken.
“Take the money…
Take the fame.
Take this old body…
Change my name.” I heard a chorus sang a short distance from the kitchen as I traveled the halls of Elliswoods Palace.
“And deep down inside, what you’ll find…
Is a worshipper until the end of my time.
No, I’m nothing special…
Oh, Lord, I’m tired and through.
I’m decidedly your vessel!” I turned the corner to find the industrial-sized kitchen filled with working bodies, many of them engaged in belting harmonically.
A few shouted phrases of praise I’d heard at the Ellis’ church when I visited. They seemed to be incited by one another.
“Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” one woman sang into the sink over and over again.
“Praise Him!” another declared.
One, with her back to me, waved a cloth in the air with sheer exuberance.
Someone shushed the group, two tapped others to get their attention.
“Ms. Bilan!” Candy approached me with a sheepish expression. “Sorry about that. We sing sometimes to help pass the time. Mrs. Ellis likes it and sometimes joins in.”
Suddenly, I felt like an interloper. Everyone had faced away, carrying on with their duties.
“Please!” I laughed nervously. “Don’t stop because of me. You guys sounded like the real recording—well, I know only Ragee sings that part. But your sound…” I was at a loss for words. Gospel music wasn’t something I was too familiar with, but I knew all of Ragee’s catalog. I’d followed him over to that genre when he’d include a ‘psalm of worship’ at the end of each album. He even had a full one I purchased, though I didn’t listen to it as often as I did his others. “I can see why my mother-in—” I caught myself and covered my mouth with my fingers. “Mrs. Ellis enjoys it.”
There was a light spirit in this kitchen filled with Black and brown faces.
“It’s definitely a perk for working here,” Candy replied with a warm smile. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
My eyes burst like a deer in headlights. I’d forgotten that quickly. Their music had me befuddled.
“I… Uhhhh...” I rolled my eyes, trying to get my thoughts together. “I’m done with work and the baby’s napping. I’m bored out of my mind and thought to see if I could help with dinner. I thought it would be great to hang out with adults. I haven’t been in a busy kitchen in forever. I can help with anything.”
I was also hoping to catch Irene in here. She hadn’t been around since we arrived days ago.
“Sure.” Candy turned around, considering my offer. “You bake, right?” I guessed Irene shared that with her staff.
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Ellis requested his favorite, which is sweet potato pie. His doctors okayed a small slice. The girl who does the best crust called out today. Think you can handle that?”
I sucked in a breath. “In a jiffy, yeah!”
When I moved to make my way to an empty sink to wash my hands, my name was announced from the other side of the kitchen.
“A package arrived for you. It’s in the foyer,” Stacy advised.
“Oh!” I chirped, finding that odd. “Candy, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay!” she called behind me.
My journey to the front
end of the house was with impatience. I wanted to get back to the kitchen and get to work. I turned corners and passed rooms, feeling proud of myself for learning my way around a little more. It was typically quiet around unless the family was congregated in a room. So when I heard a deep voice speaking into a phone or such, I slowed my stride. It was near the opening of the formal family room, the same one I’d met the Ellis siblings and grandchildren in a year ago.
Who would be in there?
I stopped near the opening. “Your beard makes you look old.” A woman on a device laughed.
“Old? How old are we talking?” I craned my neck just enough over the column to see Tom Banks with his back to me, engaged in a FaceTime conversation with a woman.
I couldn’t make out much of her from my vantage point.
“Old like 40, old!” She fell into laughter again. “Your old lady is turning you into an old man.”
Tom let out a breath. “Yeah. Okay! Ain’t nothing old about me but my brain and experience between the damn sheets.”
“Whatever!” she sang. “Are we doing the trip to Antigua, or what? You told us you had the hookup, plane and all. Or don’t you have that clout over there in the Ellis castle?” She goaded him.
“Shit, I don’t lie about a damn thing. I’m working on it. I don’t think the island’ll be in use for a while. So much shit’s been going on around—”
“Speaking of,” she cut him off. “How are you all relaxed, posted up in the royal melanin’s tower so comfortably like this?”
“C’mon, Britt. Too many hours in that library’s got your little indexed brain malfunctioning. Will Sofia be coming?”
My eyes ballooned.
Sofia, Sofia? Sadik’s Sofia?
“I don’t think she can be around anything belonging to an Ellis after last night’s fight,” the woman snickered.
That was Brittany, Brittany. Sofia’s friend, Brittany.
