by Jade Jones
Leaping into his arms, Roxie wrapped her toned legs around Joaquin’s waist. He held onto her thick pear-shaped ass, and kicked the door closed behind him.
“I need you,” Roxie whispered.
“I need you too, on the real.” Joaquin hastily made his way to her nearest bedroom. It didn’t matter that it was the guest room.
Multi-tasking between unbuttoning his jeans, Joaquin carried Roxie to the queen size bed. When he finally reached it, he carefully laid her down and stared at her for a few seconds in silence.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Roxie asked, smiling.
Joaquin pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. His fully tattooed torso was on full display. “You might not believe this shit…but you one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known.”
Roxie giggled. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” she said, dismissively.
“Kinda sound corny now, huh?” Joaquin laughed and became serious. “But the shit’s real.”
Roxie gave Joaquin a sideways look, and studied him. It felt like she was looking at him for the first time. “Come here,” she murmured.
Joaquin climbed onto the bed, and positioned himself between her thighs. “I wanna be the one that gotcha back, Roxie,” he told her, gazing into her brown eyes. “Lemme be that dude one day…”
Roxie slowly pulled Joaquin’s face close to hers, and slid her tongue between his lips. Joaquin suckled softly upon her small pink tongue, and then her bottom lip. He nibbled lightly on her chin, and trailed his tongue along her throat’s soft flesh.
Roxie shivered beneath him. “It’s too early…and I’m scared to fall in love again, Joaquin.” Tears slid down her cheeks as she spoke. A combination of feelings had her emotions all over the place.
Joaquin kissed her tears away before placing delicate kisses along her jawline. Leaning close to Roxie’s ear, he whispered, “If you do, just know I’ll catch you…”
***
“Rumor, where the fuck are you?!” Roxie hissed into the receiver. She stood downstairs in her kitchen barefoot with a bottle of vodka in one hand and her cellphone in other. She’d crept out of bed with Joaquin, and snuck downstairs so that she could call her sister. “Bitch, you think it’s cute going AWOL? Having everyone worried about you?” Roxie asked with glassy eyes. It was nearing 1 a.m., and she was tipsy and over-emotional.
The kitchen was completely dark other than the light from Roxie’s cellphone screen. She drunkenly paced the floor, cradling her iPhone between her ear and shoulder. Every few seconds she took a swig straight out the bottle. No chaser.
“O’ Zone’s dead,” Roxie said matter-of-factly. “In case you didn’t see the news—or better yet in case you care. You—you know what, Rumor?” she stammered. “You’re so fucking selfish. All you care about is you and that piece of shit soon-to-be-husband of yours! All I’ve been trying to do these last few months is get you to forgive me! I just wanted to make shit right!” she cried. “But obviously all you care about is that lame ass nigga and the date to a wedding that ain’t never gonna happen! And if, by chance, it ever does I hope you think about me fuckin’ him while you walking down the aisle.” Roxie laughed sadistically. “I bet the thought of whose pussy’s better keeps you up at night!” she said. “Well, don’t worry. Calix already told me what’s up. I hope you two have a miserable ass life together. Fuck you, Rumor.”
Roxie hung up the phone and tossed it on the kitchen counter. She jumped and turned around when she heard light footsteps behind her. “You scared the hell out of me!”
Joaquin stood a few feet from her. There was a blank expression on his handsome face.
“How much did you hear?” Roxie asked, giving him the side eye.
“Enough,” Joaquin simply said. “Are you drunk?”
Roxie held up the bottle of Vodka and stared at it like she barely recognized. “Joaquin, I…” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m just so fucking lost,” she sobbed.
Joaquin quickly approached Roxie and held her close. Crying hysterically, she buried her face in his bare chest and wrapped her arms around him. “I got you, baby,” he told her. “I’m here for you.”
28
The following evening every person with their hand in the business was crammed inside The Warehouse’s meeting room. Seated at the head of the table was Cameron with a no-nonsense expression on her beautiful face. Wearing an olive blazer, black dress pants, and pumps, Cameron’s wardrobe matched the role she was given.
Cameron looked over the many faces in the room. She wished she could simply pick out the snake in the crowd, but nothing ever came easy. Slowly, Cameron stood to her feet and cleared her throat for good measure.
Flint rolled his eyes in disgust. He couldn’t believe that she’d been temporarily put in charge. This is fuckery at its worth, he thought to himself.
Cameron didn’t miss the look on Flint’s face since he sat relatively close to her. Ignoring his rude gesture, she focused on the room of employees. “Last night my husband informed me that there is a rat among us. A snitch. A snake.”
Joaquin’s gaze drifted over to Flint since he fit the description.
“Whoever this person is has helped orchestrate our recent robberies. They’ve taken money out of this business…and ultimately out of each and every one of our pockets.”
Every person in the meeting room tensed up after money was mentioned. Eyes of suspicion glanced around the room as they tried to figure out who the culprit was.
Cameron’s eyes settled on Flint. There was something about him that didn’t sit too well with her. “I promise your shit will come to light eventually,” she continued. Cam stared directly at Flint although she spoke in general to everyone. “And when my husband finds out, I can guarantee that he will make you pay.”
***
Two weeks and three robberies later, Jude finally checked himself out earlier than he should have. He simply couldn’t sit back and allow his business to fall apart in front of his eyes. Temporarily walking with a single crutch, Jude eagerly took his place back at his throne regardless of Mike being opposed to the idea.
Aside from the business issues, Jude hadn’t heard a peep from Ericka and that was good. Thankfully, that was one issue he’d taken care of with a single threat. Unfortunately, Jude now had problems bigger than a crazy ex to deal with.
Even in the midst of turmoil and recent deaths, Jude’s camp was nice enough to throw him a small homecoming party at a local bar and grille. B.O.B. and Future’s “Ready” played on maximum inside the crowded establishment. The bar looked more like a reception with food trays, bottles of champagne, and liquor laid out on tables.
Jude was actually surprised by the warm gesture. In the beginning, he could sense the animosity from his own crew after taking over, but now they showed him love like he was King himself.
Joaquin was drunk, and showing out for his small audience by performing smoke tricks. “Aye, check this shit!” he said, loving every minute of the attention.
After sucking in a mouthful of blueberry flavored hookah, Joaquin stooped down in front of a steel chair. Carefully blowing the smoke onto the seat, he maneuvered his hand to make it simulate a tornado.
Joaquin’s crowd cheered him on, further amping up his antics.
Cameron stood at the bar, admiring the scene from afar. In most cases, she kept her distance from husband’s business, but Jude insisted on her being there. After all, she was the one who held him down while he was out of commission. It was the one responsibility Jude refused to entrust in anyone else.
What Cameron didn’t notice was Jag admiring her through the crowd of people. The twenty-two year old just couldn’t keep his eyes off his boss’ wife no matter how hard he tried. Cam looked mesmerizing that evening in a black cut-out waist dress with sparkling silver Louboutin pumps.
You need to quit sweating this chick and move on, man, Jag told himself. Do it for ya sanity. Aside from the fact that Cam was married, he now
felt like she was too far out of his league; especially with the permanent scar running across his cheek. If he didn’t have anything else, at least he had his pretty boy looks…but unfortunately Joaquin had robbed him of that.
Surprisingly, Jag wasn’t bitter behind the ordeal. He knew the attack wasn’t out of spite. Shit happens was his motto, and at the end of the day he still loved his little brother regardless of his faults.
From across the room, Jude watched Jag watching Cameron. For the longest, he’d suspected that Jag was attracted to Cam on the low. However, Jude never got the impression that he should’ve checked the younger guy about his wandering eye—until then.
We just get ready...
Anytime they come around here, nigga…
We ain't gonna let up on you pussy niggas…
We just get ready...
With a beer in one hand and a crutch in the other, Jude slowly made his way over towards Jag.
Joaquin upgraded to blowing smoke bubbles through a toilet paper roll for his audience. As long as they gassed him up, he’d continue to put on a show no matter how ridiculous.
“Aye, can I holla at you for a minute?” Jude asked Jag.
“Yeah. Fa sho’,” he agreed.
Jude turned around, and led the way to the pool room in the back of the spacious bar. Once inside, both men slid inside an empty booth. They were the only two in the room allowing them the privacy they needed to talk.
“What’s up, boss?” Jag casually asked.
Jude didn’t respond immediately. Instead he pulled out a loaded 9mm and placed it on the table.
29
“I’ma ask you this one time,” Jude began. “And I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to be real with me.”
On the inside, Jag was a bit unnerved but he tried his best to play it cool. There was no doubt in his mind that Jude would react upon his weakness. Plus his father had always taught him to never let a man know when he was intimidated. He stressed that they would only mistake him for a coward.
“Is there anything you need to tell me?” Jude asked with a serious expression. He’d recently gotten Cameron’s name tattooed in bold cursive on the side of his neck.
Jag felt like the tattoo was a taunt or a slap in the face. It was a painful reminder that Cameron could never be his as badly as he wanted her.
Jag didn’t reply immediately. Instead he mulled over the question and chose his next words carefully. “Jude, I’m not the one goin’ against the team if that’s what you thinkin’. I have nothin’ to gain by bein’ disloyal.”
Jude was just about to clarify what he meant when a loud glass shattering interrupted him. Together Jag and Jude rushed to the front of the bar where they found two police officers restraining Joaquin.
“Yo! What the fuck is goin’ on?” Jag asked. “Where ya’ll takin’ my brother?!”
Everyone stood gathered around the shameful scene with their mouths agape. One moment Joaquin was entertaining folks with impressive smoke tricks, and the next he was being handcuffed.
“At least tell me what I did!” Joaquin asked on his way out the door.
“Joaquin Campioni, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be held against you in the court of law.”
“What the fuck did I do, man?!”
“You are being charged with the murder of Alejandro Gonzalez.”
***
Jag paced the floor of Jude’s large office like a new father in a maternal ward’s waiting room. He’d gone into stress-mode well before his little brother was even booked into Fulton County Jail. He tried to think of the worst possible thing that could happen from Joaquin’s situation. With the way things were looking, it would probably end with prison.
Not once did Jag think about the day Joaquin had blacked out and killed the guy at Bar N Barrels. After Alejandro spit his tobacco onto Joaquin’s Timberland boot, his little brother had lost it. It took three men to pull Joaquin off the man he’d beaten to a bloody pulp. What they didn’t know was that Alejandro had been rushed to the hospital where he eventually succumbed to his injuries weeks later.
Jag had blocked out that horrible afternoon. Growing up in the lifestyle he did, Joaquin taught himself how to suppress certain shit the same way Joaquin did. Unfortunately, his little brother’s actions had eventually caught up with him. All it took was one person in the bar that night to recognize Joaquin’s face from a sketch posted on the news. Now his fate was left in the hands of his judge and jurors.
“My mother’s gonna flip, yo,” Jag said for the fourth time. “All she talks about is how she can’t lose another son, man. She still ain’t fully got over Gambino.”
“Look, bruh, I told you I got you,” Jude reassured him. He’d already started making phone calls. In his organization, money talked when it came to legal matters. King had proved that to him over and over. “Quit stressin’ and have faith in a nigga.” Jude passed his L to Jag from behind his desk. “Relax. Breathe. Smoke. We gonna figure this shit out,” he said. “But I really wish you would’ve told a nigga about all this.”
“What the fuck was I supposed to say?” Jag asked. “You wouldn’t have fucked with us. I knew damn well you wouldn’t have wanted that shit over ya head.”
“Maybe…But you didn’t think people would remember the face of a murderer?” Jude asked skeptically. Surely, Jag wasn’t as naïve as he portrayed himself to be.
Jag sighed in frustration, and ran a hand over his hair. “Fuck, I don’t know what I was on,” he said. “I guess I was thinking about money…and a change of scenery…and a fresh start. I didn’t think this shit would eventually catch up with us. Hell, if I did I would’ve been better prepared, man. That shit that popped off was never on my mind. Plus when I got down here I got a lil’ sidetracked…”
“With Cam?” Jude boldly asked.
Jag nearly choked on the lungful of smoke after Jude’s unexpected comment. “What you gettin’ at, bro’?” he asked suspiciously. Jag was certain that Cameron hadn’t told Jude about them. She wouldn’t have said anything. Would she, he wondered.
“I ain’t live this long bein’ a fool, dawg,” Jude said calmly. “I see the way you look at my wife. I see the way you smile whenever she talks to you—I ain’t blind and I ain’t stupid, man—”
“Hold up, dude! Wait a minute! You paid me to do your job—”
“And that wasn’t to lust after Cameron! This is my wife!” Jude barked.
“You need to be remindin’ yaself that while you paradin’ all over the city with some stripper,” Jag said coolly. “Hell, to keep it real I lightweight think it’s fucked up you would hurt a woman who’s ready and willing to kill for you.”
Jude was caught off guard when Jag made a reference to Essence. How in the hell does he know about her, he wondered.
Since Jag was getting a little out of line, Jude slowly stood up from behind his desk. With a slight limp in his step, Jude approached Jag who stood in the center of the office.
Without warning, Jude snatched out his gun and held the barrel underneath Jag’s chin. “I don’t think you know the difference between love and lust,” he said. “Mothafucka, you couldn’t begin to understand the sacrifices I made for my wife and family. You think you know some shit but you really don’t, my nigga. You don’t know anything about what me and Cam got—and you never will ‘cuz she is mine. She is my wife. Justin is my son. And you just some fuck nigga fantasizin’ over somethin’ that’ll never be yours. Get over it, boy.”
Jag’s nostrils flared wildly. He wanted to say a mouthful, but feared Jude might squeeze the trigger at any moment.
“Now get the fuck up out my office,” Jude spat.
Jag backed away, but didn’t leave the room immediately. He was never the type to back down easily. He had far too much dignity. “I feel sorry for you, Jude,” Jag said. “’Cuz one day all this shit eventually ain’t gon’ be enough for Cameron. You right, I might not know what you two have…but what
I do know is Cam likes simple things. Traditional shit—and to have a dude that’s gonna pay more attention to her than he does the streets.”
Jude waved Jag off. “Man, whatever the fuck,” he said dismissively. “My wife knew what to expect with this business. And you keep talkin’ ‘bout my girl we gon’ have some serious issues…crutch or no crutch,” Jude warned him. “I let you in my home and around my family ‘cuz I thought I could trust you…but obviously my judgment was all fucked up. Back in the bar you told me you wasn’t goin’ against the team...nah, bro’, you goin’ against me. I can’t have that shit in my circle.”
“Fuck you and fuck this circle,” Jag spat. “Don’t worry about my brother. We good. I’ll handle it on my own.” With that said he walked out of the office, leaving Jude with a lot to think about.
***
Jag held his cellphone firmly against his ear as he waited for Lark to answer. It was the first time he’d ever used her number since she’d given it to him in Atlantic Station. A part of him doubted she would answer since it was a little past midnight.
Maybe she’s asleep or at work, Jag concluded. He was just about to hang up when surprisingly Lark picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Lark, this Jag,” he said. “Hey, look…I hate to call you so late but…,” Jag paused. “Shit, it feels like I’m goin’ nuts and I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”
There was silence on Lark’s end for a brief period. For a second, Jag assumed she might’ve disconnected the call until she finally spoke again.
“How far are you from Buckhead?” Lark asked. “Let’s meet for drinks.”
***
After everything that happened that night, Jude should have gone home to his wife. Yet instead he found himself at Blue Flame, only this time he wasn’t being escorted by a gang of his boys. For the first time in a long time, he was solo.
