Your Husband My Trick
Solae Dehvine
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Copyright © 2018 by Solae Dehvine
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
The Storm
Four Weeks Before The Storm
1. Ms. Fendi to you
2. My Brother’s Keeper
3. Love or Lust
4. Above The Law
5. Price of Love
6. Trap Loyalty
7. H-Town
8. Devil In A New City
9. Family Man
10. Stripper Confidential
11. Life On The D L
Two Weeks Before The Storm
12. Martial Law
13. Dissolution
14. Back To the Bullshit
15. Rising Tides
16. Marital Bliss
17. Cry Me A River
18. Flood Warning
19. After The Storm
Thanks for Reading!
The Storm
“Yo husband, my trick. Make yo nigga suck my dick.” I listened to the song so much that I was getting sick of it. It was on every radio station and all over social media. It was more than a song, it was a mantra, and a personal pledge of allegiance to every bitch that thought their man couldn’t be touched. It had brought us a lot of money, but none of that money mattered if I wasn't alive to see it. I sat shotgun with my hand clutching the armrest, meanwhile my sister was in the driver’s seat with her eyes focused ahead, a look of determination so strong that I was afraid to talk to her.
“Shit this rain is thick.” My sister Lark said, as she tried to turn up the windshield wipers, only to remember they were already on high. The rain was coming down in buckets and I just wanted to make it out of the city alive. Just as I was about to turn the station the song was interrupted with a report.
“Breaking news, the city of Houston is being hit by the worse storm of the century. We would like to advise all that can hear this message to please get out now.” The radio blared instructions on how to evacuate, but of course my sister wasn’t listening. Instead tears rolled down her cheeks as she drove.
“Yeah yeah...storm of the century my ass.” She wiped the tears away quickly but I could tell she was crying and hurt, I couldn’t blame her but we needed to be safe. The windshield wipers on high she drove fast, the tires spinning hard through the water sending us into a slight fishtail every few miles. We were in danger, the puddles on the highway were turning into streams, yet she kept taking us deeper into Houston and the storm, instead of away from it.
“Lark. Let’s just go. Get the fuck out of the city.” I told her as she drove. Trying to get her to head north to Dallas, but instead she got off the highway, speeding through a puddle that shot water up around the car.
“Dammit…” She fought to keep the car under her control. Grabbing a hold of the wheel and pressing down on the gas as we managed to find some traction.
“See, it's getting bad. We need to get out of here.” But I felt like I was talking to a deaf woman, she didn’t even bother to look at me.
“Lark! Do you fucking hear me? Go back to the highway. Let’s leave.” I was shaking in my panties, meanwhile she was in the driver seat with nerves of steel.
“Girl stop. You a big badass and you afraid of a little bit of rain.” I wasn’t sure what she was seeing but this monsoon pouring from the sky didn’t seem like a little bit of rain. It was a damn category five hurricane.
“Girl this ain’t no little bit of rain. Noah’s Arc is going to be drifting past our ass in the next few hours.” But she didn’t listen. Riding through the vacant streets of Houston she made a right into a subdivision with rows and rows of houses with circular driveways and twelve-foot windows.
“Why are we over here with the rich folk? You own a mansion I don’t know about?” She laughed as she drove.
“Girl I got the perfect house.” She crept to one driveway, easing up to the back of the house and shutting the car off. The rain pelting down on the car was our soundtrack and my racing heartbeat was the drum.
“Okay now what?”
“We are going to go in?”
“Oh hell naw Lark. We can’t do no shit like this. What if they are home?”
“Girl they’re gone, look the fuck around. Everybody with money picked up and left.” I could only see a few driveways but none of them had cars in them.
“Just get as much shit as you can and we can go. The water isn’t rising that damn fast. We got an hour, maybe two, before it gets really bad.”
“Maybe we should go now?” But she didn’t listen, jumping out of the car she ran through the rain, leaving me behind. I watched as she grabbed something from the yard then hurried to the backdoor, within a few seconds the door was open and she was waving me inside. We were officially breaking into a house together, but was it breaking in if there was nothing broken? I had no choice but to go through the rain and at least watch her back.
She smiled as I got to the door, twirling around in their kitchen like this was her house and she was finally inviting me to her mansion.
“What the fuck are you twirling for? And how did you get in here so fast?”
“Because look around you. There is a MacBook right there, and an iPad, and some other shit and we are just in the kitchen.”
I looked around at the miscellaneous bullshit and I didn’t want any of it.
“This won’t save us from drowning or starving to death.” I said snatching the iPad from her and throwing it back down on the kitchen table.
“Girl we need some serious money. We need some get out the country money. And this house is how we get it.” She called it a house, but where I was from this place was a mansion.
“C’mon let’s go upstairs.” She pulled my arm, dragging me through the kitchen, then into the dining room. There was a twelve seat table, all prepared and set with black medusa heads circling the plates.
“Girl can you believe this shit?” Lark grabbed a bowl and turned it over to the back.
“This is a Versace plate. Look it says Versace.” I didn’t know they made Versace plates until now. She held it up, caressing the outer rim of the plate like she was in love.
“I want them.” She grabbed up the place settings, stacking the bowls and dishes on top of each other.
“Lark we can’t take this shit. We need things we can carry. You hear that?” I got quiet for a moment.
“What?”
“That fucking rain that is on our ass. Put them plates down.”
“These are worth a lot of money. He bought her this shit. All of it.”
“Who? Who is He?”
“Don’t worry about it. Come on.” She was talking in circles and not completing her sentences. She drifted in and out of rooms, feeling the furniture and patterns on the wall.
“Look at this floor. It's a different carpet in every room. And look at the marble.” She ran through the living room towards the front door, getting on her hands and knees to feel the marble.
“Damn this house is big.” I walked slow, peeping in every room. “Lark get up, damn.”
She was acting crazy, making me think that she had lost her damn mind. Passing through the living room the size of my old apartment I saw the TV was on, there was no sound but from what was on the screen I didn’t need to hear a word. The gravity of our situation was all over the screen. In red bold letters, half of the screen showed the truth of what was happening “HURRICANE HARVEY HITS HOUSTON”.
Glimpses of flooded areas and hundreds of people running into stores, breaking windows, all to get water and basic food, while a monsoon descended on the city.
“Can we just leave Lark? We have enough to get by.” I asked my sister again. She was back on her feet trying to pull a painting off the wall.
“Fuck that. We’re here. While people are trying to leave, we’re capitalizing as the ones that stayed.” We were almost out of the city when she came up with this idea and now I was stuck dealing with her craziness.
“Lark no...Leave that painting.” Just as quick as she got the idea to rip it off the wall she let it go and looked towards the stairs.
“Oohh...let’s just go upstairs and work our way down.”
“We need to make this quick Lark.” She rolled her eyes and pulled me towards the steps.
“Come on let’s hit the bedrooms.” She walked through the house like she built it and had the plans tattooed into her memory.
“How did you pick this place?” She didn’t answer.
“Make sure you look under the bed and the mattress. Motherfuckers always hiding shit down there.” But I was more concerned about hiding people. I saw too many scary movies to be walking around this house in a damn hurricane like I didn’t have a care in the world. I was looking in every room that we passed but she barreled down the hallway like she knew exactly where she was going.
“Shouldn’t we make sure nobody is here?” I asked her as she bust into a room with a bed big enough to fit a basketball team.
“My God.”
“This is the master suite. Look at this with a damn sky light, a huge custom bed, a lounging area and two custom closets big enough for a kid to sleep in.” She didn’t wait for my permission but I still shot her ass a warning.
“Fine but five minutes and we need to go.”
“You have got to see this closet. I would kill for a place to put all my clothes and shoes at one time.” She sounded like one of those hosts from an HGTV show.
“Are you a real estate agent? How the hell do you know this?“ She didn’t say a word, instead she disappeared into the closet. “Just hurry up Lark….please.”
Scanning the room who-ever left forgot most of their shit. Jewelry lined the dresser, money was in the drawers, and a MacBook pro was on the nightstand. Something wasn’t right about this place.
“Girl it's all shit in here.” I grabbed the items throwing them into my messenger bag.
“Don’t forget the bed.” I did as she said, reaching under the bed I felt around and sure enough there was a safe.
“Got a small safe here. I think we're good. We got jewelry, money, and a safe let’s go.”
“Come look at this shit.” Breaking and entering would be the charge, they would put my sweet ass in jail and not give two shits about me, but my companion wasn’t thinking about that.
“Did you see all these fucking Louboutin’s this bitch has?” Walking into the closet felt like I was going into the Houston Galleria. Labels were everywhere, from floor to ceiling there was high end shit sitting on every shelf. “Girl get the fuck out of her closet.”
“I just need to see them.” She felt every shoe, ran the material of gowns and dresses between her fingers. I could tell she was having a moment, who knew why, but I couldn’t wait for her to snap out of it.
“I’m gonna go check the other rooms really quick. Hurry up.” Rushing down the hall I was trying to grab a few other items, as I scanned the rest of the upstairs I got a glimpse of more paintings. Expensive art hung from the walls, like pricey shit I only saw in the museums. But a family looked back at me from one of the photos. Two kids, two parents all dressed in red shirts and jeans, and through the bright smiles and such, was him, but I didn’t know him in this role. I knew him as a pimp, not as this loving, doting father staring back at me from the picture.
“How did you know about this house?”
“What?” She couldn’t hear me, in this big ass house, as loud as I was talking, she couldn’t hear me.
“Lark!”
“Girl come look at this.”
“I come back in there I’m going to drag your ass out.” And I meant it. I let her have my ass out here and this was nothing but revenge. In the closet she had not a care in the world, not of the hurricane, and damn sure not about the people that owned this house, and now I knew why. It’s because she knew the owners of this house, or at least one of them.
She was trying on shoes when I got back to the closet. It was a damn hurricane outside, in somebody else's house, and she was relaxed, trying on shoes like a damn Nordstrom shoe department.
“Who the fuck is this?” She froze seeing the picture. Her eyes big as a raccoons. I could tell I was right when she couldn’t find words for a lie.
“Um...I…”
“Umm my ass. Is this his house? His family? His wife’s fucking closet!” She didn’t say a word, she didn’t need to, instead her tears spoke for her. I had seen that look a million times in the eyes of the wives whose husbands I had fucked. That look of sheer panic and despair when you realize the person that you love, really isn’t completely yours, and whatever they told you was a total lie.
“He said he was going to leave her. He said that he didn’t love her, but look at this shit.” She showed me the shoe collection in a plush closet that was bigger than the house we grew up in.
“Baby girl. I understand you're hurt but we gotta go.” The rain was still beating down. I tried to be quiet so she could hear it too and realize why we were here in the first place. To hit a lick and get out, now shit was getting complicated.
“Fuck that. I want all this shit.” She grabbed boxes and clothes off the rack, trying to stuff them in a Louis Vuitton duffle bag that she found.
“We can’t take all that shit.” That didn’t stop her, instead she grabbed bags and shoes, holding them close to her like someone was going to yank them away.
“I’m taking it all. It can float in but I’m not leaving without them.” She said, but I was done with the games. I grabbed her by the arms, looking into her eyes, ready to shake some sense into her. “No, we can’t, we have to get the fuck out of here and...” A loud crashed broke up my sentence. It sounded like breaking glass coming from downstairs.
“FENDI!” I heard my name loud and clear. “OHH FENDI” He sang. A man was screaming my name, echoing off the walls of the mansion.
“Who the fuck is that?” Lark whispered, fumbling with her purse to grab her gun.
“YO BITCH...BRING YO ASS DOWN HERE.” We were supposed be alone, now a voice like a raspy gorilla filled the house. There was only one person I knew that said my name like that.
“Shit.” She crouched down next to me.
“I can’t believe this shit. I can’t believe it.”
“Believe what bitch? Who is that?” I couldn’t find the words to tell her his name. I could take ten hours and she still wouldn’t understand who it was.
“It doesn’t matter who it is. I’m gonna go down there and blast his ass.” She tried to jump up but I grabbed her arm, holding her back.
“No, we gotta get out of here.”
“Duh bitch but how?” The only problem was that we were on the second floor. A hurricane outside and a crazy man downstairs.
“DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE. I’M NOT FUCKING PLAYING.” Five pops entered the air, the sound of a gun exploding sent fear through me that I didn’t know was possible.
“Shit… Shit...”
“COME ON BITCH...I WANNA TALK TO YOU.” He yelled. “Just a little conversation with me and my friend Smith and Wesson.”
“What the fuck do we do?” She asked me but we only had one option.
“We jump out the window.”
“No, what about the money? The clothes?” Lark asked, but none of that could stop a bullet.
“Bitch if he kills us, none of that shit matters. If we drown in this flood, none of that shit matters. We just need to get out of here with our lives.” This was why
I didn’t want to come here.
“Look, I don’t have anything” I yelled out to him.
“What are you doing?” Lark pulled at me. “Hell, I gotta talk to him.”
“What you mean you ain’t got nothing?” He yelled back. Seconds later I heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, while the sound of the pounding rain and howling wind got even louder.
“Please just put the gun down. I can get you your money.” I begged as his footsteps got closer but it was too late. He was already here.
“Well if you ain’t got no money I guess I gotta take it out yo ass.” I had only a split second to think and I had to protect my sister no matter what. I had to keep him away from here.
“Listen. You run when you see a chance okay. I’ll hold him.” I told Lark as I jumped to my feet.
“Take the gun.” She tried pushing off on me.
“No...You hold it. You use it if he comes in here.”
“But…” I didn’t give her a chance to argue with me. Before she could finish I was out in the bedroom, hoping that I could keep him out of the closet until Lark got away.
“Ohhh there you go bitch. You thought you could do this shit to me and get away?” He appeared like a ghost standing in the doorway with the gun at his side.
“Wait let’s talk about this. I got your money, I just don’t have it on me and…” When he raised the gun up I knew I couldn’t talk my way out of this one. There were no words for me to say but I had to survive for my sister.
“Please let’s just talk.” I put my hands up as if my fingers could stop a bullet.
“Talk bitch?” he laughed. “Talk about what?” He stepped closer, the gun still pointed at me.
“How we got here? Let’s talk about that. Let me just explain.” He thought about it for a moment, like he was considering giving me a chance. “Look I just want to say...” I was ready to apologize and try to smooth this shit out but the gun fired.
Your Husband My Trick Page 1
