“She can't turn you out like I can, Titus. She don’t even know how to do it like this. I’m the one that has you weak in the knees about to overdose on this loving each and every time you get it. We just match like peas and butter, baby. You have all you need in a woman right here, so why even keep her around?” She covered her mouth as if in shock and said, "Oh yeah, that's right, you obviously don’t need her.”
Laughing uncontrollably, Ronnie added, “You haven’t touched your ‘little wifey’ in so long that she has cobwebs growing between her legs, don’t she? She’s wore out so many vibrators that they are about to start using her for their commercials.”
I just stood there allowing her to go as far as she was comfortable going. That was the problem; she was getting too comfortable with me. Her laugh became more wicked, and her volume increased even more as she spoke.
I might have been cheating, but I loved my wife. So, friend or no friend, I didn’t like hearing Rhonda disrespect her like that. Plus, this new boldness Rhonda had flowing through her veins tonight was making me nervous.
By this time, she had walked over to her coffee table and retrieved a cigarette from her purse. She started back on her roll, yapping and pacing the floor, “You don’t have to say anything, boo.” She puffed on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke and her words together. “I know. She calls me constantly whining about her sexless life, trying to figure out what‘s the latest and greatest in dildos and vibrators."
The next few moments flashed by with record speed. One moment, Rhonda was standing there, nearly out of breath. Holding her cigarette, she was cracking up, wheezing and laughing her butt off before she got a full understanding of the insufficient checks her mouth had already written that her butt couldn’t pay. Man, I had caught a case of temporary insanity up in her apartment looking at her act a fool and disrespect me and my wife, as if she was the noble one.
In the next moment, I had closed the space between us and was taking a withdrawal out of that ass before I even knew what was happening. One hand was wrapped around her throat tightly, and her face was being slapped from side to side repeatedly with my free hand. It was almost like I was not the one beating her ass. I felt like a bystander watching the assault from the sidelines.
She fell back onto the couch, and I came with her, still holding her neck and slapping her face in between my words. “What’s fu… funny now? I’m sure you can squeeze one more joke out of that smart ass mouth of yours. Sure you can. Go ahead – talk.”
“T….T…itus!” she attempted to speak, but the hold I had on her jaw wouldn’t let the words escape.
“You’re hur…ting mmmmeeee… ,” she managed to squeeze through the gurgling sound coming up from her throat. What the fuck did she think I was trying to do, make her feel good? Talking that dumb shit made me tighten my grip, and then I snapped on her dumbass.
"I told you that Shayla is off limits, and if you ever speak my wife’s name again you will live the rest of your life with a speech impediment. Just let me catch one feeling that you’ve told Shayla anything out of the way, and you will hate the day you ever 'turned me out.' Right, and if anybody's turned out it's you. You think you got the only hot pussy in town? I can have any woman out there. I only messed with you to prove that you were scandalous. I kept coming back because I know one thing for sure, and that is that you won‘t tell anyone about us – especially since Shayla is supposed to be your best friend. You really are a freaking slut! Other than that… naw, there is no other than that. You are nothing more than a good suck and fuck, and don’t you ever let me have to run your role down again.”
Subconsciously, I tightened the grip on her neck even more. Man, I didn’t want to kill her, but my killer instinct was at the brink. I could see her gurgling and foaming at the mouth, and the color starting to leave her dark skin. I should’ve let go, but I was in that zone that she never should have taken me to. It was execution time. Fuck it, somebody call the coroner.
"I don’t know why you insist on bringing the beast out of me tonight. If I told you once, woman, I’ve told you a million times. Recognize your role and play it, because as you can see this here can get deadly in the blink of an eye. ”
As she went limp, the exasperation in her reddened eyes jarred me back to reality. I quickly released her neck from my clutch. She immediately fell off of the sofa onto the floor like a rag doll. I just stood there watching her gasp for air until the color returned to her face. I almost felt bad for what I did, but quickly reverted to street principle # 79 – “Act like a lady, and you get treated like a lady. Run up, and get done up.” It’s hard but fair.
I lightened my mood just a little bit and as sincerely as I could muster up said, “Listen, you will never have it like Shayla, and that’s a fact that you need to get used to. Playing with my livelihood, toying with my emotions is making the mistake of forcing me to show you just how real this here can get. You know me well enough to know that you chose the wrong one to try to man handle. Act like a lady, and you’ll get treated like a lady.”
Rhonda lay on the floor gasping for air, looking like a fool, which served her right. She wanted to be a gangster’s bitch. She wanted to be hard. She might as well take her hard knocks like a gangster’s bitch. I’m Titus-to-the-motherfucking-Wilson. I saw her try to rise to her feet but fall back down to the floor. I walked down her hall and back into the bedroom, picked up the money I’d placed on the nightstand earlier, and put it back in my pocket. Until she got her act together, she would not be living on my dime. Just before I closed the front door behind me, I heard her say, barely above a whisper, “How could you do this to me, Titus? I thought you loved me.”
I didn’t know how she thought I loved her. I never told her I loved her. Sure, I spent a lot of time with her, but I never told her I loved her. It was time for me to let Rhonda know that she really didn't come first in my life. Truth be told, I had been too soft on her. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was something about messing around with my wife’s best friend that had me a little open.
Forget that, let me keep it real for a second. Rhonda had me open. The sneakiness that was involved with our fling made experiences with her erotic as hell, plus she really cared and looked out for a nigga, man. That alone had me feeling a certain kind of way for her.
All of the nights that I would come home to find the wife and Rhonda both at the house to greet me had finally piqued my interest of getting into her bed. I would have suggested a threesome, but I didn’t know how Shayla would take to the idea, so I opted against even going there. It had indeed been a good ride, and turn me out? Though I wouldn’t admit it to her, she did that. She had me paying all of her bills and spending mad time with her, all the while neglecting Shayla for two whole years off and on – mostly on. But Rhonda's jealousy and disrespect for the game we chose to play closed that door just as quickly as it had been opened. She was right about one thing; it was time that I tended to the wife. To do that, I had to let Rhonda go.
“I’m going to miss that good loving though,” I said to myself while getting into my car. She had me gone the first time she licked my asshole. I mean, what kind of woman licks a man’s asshole, for real!? A freak, that’s who! “Damn, that girl can do some things.”
Anything I would suggest, she would just be down with it like it was the way life was supposed to be. On the other hand, my sweet, tender, and loving Shayla was too precious for all of that. I made sweet, tender love to Shayla. Wifey brought out a different energy from me that inspired me to explore her body in different ways than I did with any of my other women. When I got into it with Shayla, it was like I would just melt right into her sweet pussy. I would try to dive in and come out the other side of that thing when I was making love to her. All the veins in my damn forehead would come to the surface, my arms would be shaking, trying to hold me up, and the magic stick would be as rigid as a fuckin’ flagpole.
One love-making session with her, and she would have me ready to giv
e up the whole street game and settle down in between her legs forever. She had that make-me power over me that inspired me to not only give her the best, but to be a better man. That was why I married her, but also why I spent so much time away from her. I wasn’t ready to be a square – cooking meals, painting walls, watching the Home Makeover channel on TV, and eating ice cream sandwiches as the highlight of my day.
Since I’d made it down the aisle with Shayla, I’d been running from the lockdown ever since. For one, I was afraid of the hold she had on me. Afraid I would turn into some random sap, making love and shit all the time. In my line of work, I had to keep it gangster by any means necessary. The streets would eat me alive on some love bullshit. For two, I wasn’t sure I could dismiss the fact that I liked to be out there doing it big, being “the man” to females left and right, getting money left and right, and women jockin’ on me – you know the rest, left and right. I wanted all of that, but I also wanted the security I could only get from my wife. Picking up my phone, I made a quick call home, but got the voicemail.
“Shayla, baby, I’m sorry I missed your calls. I’ve been tied up at my main spot handling a discrepancy all evening. I’m on my way home now, babygirl. I love you.” I said a prayer that she would receive my message before I got there and not be too upset. The altercation with Rhonda was almost entirely tossed to the back of my mind at the moment. I had bigger fish to fry. I looked at the debonair nigga staring back at me in the rearview mirror, and said, “Pimpin’ ain’t easy.”
Chapter 8
Gladys
“If my cell phone rings again, I don’t know what I’m going to do!” I had already gotten a couple of calls from Rhonda the night before, back to back, but I had let them go to voicemail. Her messages sounded as though she was upset, maybe even crying, but I knew that if she had called me, she had also called Shayla. If it was serious, Shayla would be able to go to her a lot faster than I could in Florida. To be honest, if it was some more drama about her family, her latest fling, or some other bullshit that I really didn’t care about, I didn’t want to have to listen to it while I was on my vacation.
I was too ready to get my mini-vacation kicked off, but the constant ringing of my phone jarred my mind back to my disgruntled husband at home and everything I had going on at work, as well. I began to question whether or not I had faxed the last part of my firms’ contractual agreement to Nordec University Hospital. We were slated to go live providing documentation services to Nordec, one of the largest medical facilities in the United States, and I just so happened to be the consultant responsible for making it happen. The thought of not completing one minute detail to get this account kicked off properly was almost strong enough to make me want to check the caller ID and answer the call immediately. The mere chance that I might have dropped the ball on any part of this deal made me cringe. I was one-hundred-percent flawless when it came to executing plans and wheeling business deals. However, lately with all of the shit James had been putting me through at home, I’d been slipping hard at work.
A month ago, he found himself out of work yet again, and with him always at home riding me about one thing or the next when I got home, suddenly my career had found itself riding on the line with this Nordec account. I could sink or swim with this million-dollar client. If I swam, I would be swimming with the big fish and rolling in the pay dirt. On the other hand, if I sank, I’d be in the unemployment line and hitting soup kitchens up within the blink of an eye. All of the stressors that I was dealing with at work and home had burned me out, so I was looking forward to this weekend alone to rejuvenate my mind, body and soul and put me back on the upswing. We all need time to clear our heads sometimes.
Pardon me folks, where are my manners? Let me officially introduce myself. I’m Gladys LaQuinn, a business savvy, twenty-eight-year-old, God-fearing, Spanish chica from el corazón de Caracas, Venezuela. I moved to America with my family when I was fourteen in search of endless American possibilities. Therefore, I have the benefit of speaking both Spanish and English. I’m the proud mother of two beautiful little niňos that are my sunrise and sunset.
Unfortunately, you already know that I’m also the wife of a…. well, we will get back to his trifling tail in just a minute.
Professionally, I’m a kick butt senior software consultant for Naytek Corporation, a Fortune 500 medical documentation firm. The complete contrast in how powerful I felt in my career and how helpless I felt in my home life does not escape me. Currently I live in Valley, Alabama in a nice custom built four-bedroom brick home. I commute daily to Naytek’s thirty-story office building positioned in the middle of the bustling downtown Atlanta. Although my salary does provide for me to live in any one of the best communities in Atlanta, I choose to commute to the smaller, modest community of Valley, because I’ve always enjoyed the countryside. The small town lifestyle the city provides matches my serene spirit and simplistic lifestyle. Okay, enough about me, now back to my trip to Florida.
Traffic was heavy as hell as I breezed down I-85 headed toward Atlanta. I was just about to dodge a truck that was attempting to cut me off when my cell phone vibrated again. Once I was secure in my lane with no cars intruding on my space, I reluctantly checked the caller ID. It was James again, calling for the tenth time since I left home. This time I answered it just to flatter myself. I skipped the formalities and got straight to the point.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I will not be turning this car back around to come back home. So, get that through your thick skull, and enjoy your time with the kids this weekend.” I had the phone glued tightly to my ear, just a moving violation waiting to happen.
He roared off a few vulgar explicatives and called me out of my name, as if that was anything new nowadays. Sometimes I wondered where he got his material? If he was going to be cursing me out every time I talked to him, at least he could come up with something new to say every now and again. I sighed.
Enjoying my newly found cojones, I said matter-of-factly, “If you want to talk to me civil, we can talk. However, you are not going to holler at me or call me out of my name today, because I will not receive or accept it. And you are definitely not changing my mind about taking this trip, so get over that.” I calmly told him, cooler than a cucumber – so cool it even shocked me. Knowing that he was hundreds of miles away and unable to reach out to strike me made me bold.
Despite my warning, he yelled all kinds of curse words into my ear, calling me all kinds of bitches, hos, unfit mothers and motherfuckers. Had he caught me any other day, my psyche would have been so fragile that I would have shattered under the intensity of his verbal assault. But this day I was a woman not easily broken. I had my own purpose and mission, so instead of responding to his fury, I blew a kiss into the phone. Shit, he would be beating my ass anyway, so why should I let him ruin my trip? Like it or not, I had to return home, and once I did, I’d have to face the music. I figured that I might as well make it worth my while.
“I’ll see you Monday, and we will talk then. Take care of my babies.” I told him. Maybe he will see me Monday, I thought. When those actual words had slipped from my tongue, my stomach lurched at the thought of having to go home to him. I knew what would await me there, but I pressed the visions of his fists to the back of my mind.
For too many years, he has been sadly mistaken, always calling me an unfit mother if I decided to do one thing for me that did not include him or the children. He constantly called me a whore and all kinds of bitches. Well, after this weekend, maybe there would be some truth to his claims of me being a bitch. Regardless, there were two people that I always did right by, and they were my children. As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for my children, I would have just run away from our sorry excuse of a marriage years ago. It was past time for my not-so-lovely husband of six years to get a taste of what it felt like to be the one left at home caring for our two beautiful children, Nazaria and Kelvin, for days on end with no love or support from his spouse. And to think tha
t I was only forcing him to be responsible for just one weekend. It had been my job ever since we found out that I was pregnant with Nazaria to watch over, protect, and provide for our children while my husband ran rampant in the streets, never assisting, never supporting, and never encouraging. For God’s sakes, the man didn’t even bring his paycheck home when he was lucky enough to be earning one.
Even with all of that, instead of running around town cheating with different men - like James often does with his skanks – I was simply taking a ‘me time’ break in Miami, Florida. A three-day vacation full of rest and relaxation was just what I needed. My reservations were made weeks ago when I took Brenda Jackson up on her offer to attend the reunion. I immediately planned my getaway upon receiving the impressive gold invite without a second thought. I had always said, “If you are going to do something, Gladys, do it big with no regrets,” and that was exactly what I was doing on this highway to M-I-A.
My spirit was empowered, because today I was finally taking a stand. That thought alone made me smile so big that I thought the corners of my mouth were going to crack. Affecting a change for me, starting today, felt great. Yeah, sure, James continued to scream into the phone, but I was a woman on a mission.
“What the hell has gotten into you, woman? You can’t just jump on the highway and leave home without discussing taking a trip with me! Oh, you just wait until I get my hands on you, you disrespectful little cunt. You thought you were hurt before… You have no idea what I have planned for you! The longer you stay away, the worse it will be when you get here, Gladys! Now, I’m telling you to get your spic ass back home right now, bitch, and I mean now!” In my mind, I could see James pacing the living room floor furious and wishing he could knock a hole in my head. He would probably punch a few holes in the walls of the house once he realized that nothing he would say or do could change the way the wind blew this day. The winds of change were pushing me toward Florida. Unlike nearly every other week, I would not be waiting up for him until I was too tired to hold my eyes open this weekend, and I could care less how he was taking that news.
Secrets of a Kept Woman (Volume 1) Page 6
