Your Husband My Trick

by Solae Dehvine

  “Whatever.” Opening up the door Rachel stepped out back into reality. “Congratulations on your baby.” She said out of spite before slamming the car door. She wanted to hurt him with her sarcasm but the lieutenant didn’t miss a beat, he sped off leaving Rachel right back where she came from, at the home of her husband’s mistress.

  “Well Rach, you're here already. Might as well do your damn job.” She told herself kicking up dust and rocks as she walked back through the broken door and up to apartment 6. The door was open now, way different from having to kick it in before.

  This time she did it differently, just in case someone was watching.

  “Police...Police…” Rachel screamed before pushing the door further open until she heard a creaking noise behind her.

  “Ohh...thank God you're here.” With a closed robe and hair full of rollers, a petite older woman came creeping from her apartment.

  “Yes ma’am. I’m with the police. Did you see what happened here?” Rachel asked as if she weren’t the one that caused the damage.

  “No ma’am...but they…” She said pointing to the door. “Are always making all kinds of noise. Those two…” She said shaking her head. “Nothing but the work of the devil.”

  “Is that so...how?” Rachel asked waiting to hear about loud sex or crazy drinking to further prove her case for divorce.

  “Two men together...it just ain’t right.” Rachel heard the words but her thoughts couldn’t wrap around what the woman was saying.

  “Excuse me…”

  “You know the people that live there. They are both men.” The old woman said whispering. Holding her housecoat closed, she took a few steps closer.

  “You see nobody knows but me. The one looks like a girl.” Rachel gasped like someone punched her in the stomach. “Yeah I know right...one of those damn...transganders or whatever they are called.”

  “Transgenders?” Rachel tried to correct but the old woman turned up her nose, unwilling to learn the correct terminology.

  “Yeah something like that. Look...only reason I know is because I heard his voice change one day.” She said prancing around. “This is how he walks. You would never know. But one day he got mad and I heard him yelling on the phone out there…” The old woman started laughing as she recanted the story. “Sounded like James Earl Jones’ voice coming out of Vanessa Williams’ body.” She laughed so hard that she didn’t notice the nauseated look on Rachel’s face.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes ma’am...I started observing after that. He does good at hiding it but that’s definitely a man. I can tell some things. These young kids getting fooled but I know one when I see one. But that other dude he was just regular. Probably the one doing the poking instead of taking it...if you know what I mean?” Rachel did know what she meant and it sent her stomach flipping a few dozen times. She pulled the door to the apartment closed, or as closed as it could be.

  “I’m going to check things out around back…”

  “Sure...thanks for coming officer.” The woman smiled, retreating back to her house as Rachel ran back down the stairs barely making it outside before the contents of her stomach came up.

  Vomit all over the lawn and the only thing she had on her mind was all the signs she missed. The gay porn on the computer, the lack of sex drive, the late nights coming home, it was all starting to make sense.

  “That sonofabitch.” She screamed as she made her way to her car. Jumping in she sped away, trying to make sense of everything, but two small words were throbbing in her skull. Down Low...your husband is on the down low. She shook her head hard trying to knock the thoughts away but it was useless.

  “Remember what he said...remember.” The only thing that calmed her was thinking of Lieutenant Miller.

  “Don’t draw any attention right now. Let everything be cool. No big deal.” But she was ready to run up to the hospital and put a barrel of steel in his mouth. Her trigger finger itched more than it ever had in her life, and for Rachel that only meant one thing. Someone was going to die.

  5

  Price of Love

  Lark

  “Come on hurry up and count that shit.” Don was like a warden, pacing back and forth as I counted my money.

  “Give me a second, damn. It isn’t easy separating all this shit.” Ones, fives, tens, and twenties smashed together by sweat, saliva, and ass, all incubated in a black trash bag straight from the strip club.

  He was staring down, and like some field worker, I was half naked in my bra and panties, counting fist fulls of money. This was my life as his modern day slave, the motherfucker wanted everything from me but the one thing I wanted from him I couldn’t have.

  “This is shit that you should be having your wife do.” I reminded him constantly that he wasn’t my responsibility. Especially since he liked reminding me that he had other responsibilities at home, like his wife and kids.

  “You are my wife,” he said it like it was true. And if I didn’t know any better I would have believed him.

  “Not according to your marriage certificate.” If my name isn’t on a paper with his, then I am not his wife. I hated that term wifey, either we’re married or we aren’t. Not that I've seen it but I knew he had one, all married couples did. “I don’t need no certificate to show how much I love you.”

  “But you did with her.” This was our usual verbal tennis match that went on and on until eventually one of us caved in. These days it was usually him that tried to kill the conversation and change subjects.

  “Stop playing man.” That was the way this argument always went. I would tell him how being his side chick for the rest of my life wasn’t in my future goals, and he would always tell me that we had the best life, why should it change. But his phone buzzing was the perfect reason.

  “Damn...I gotta go. Hurry this shit up please.” He was tugging at his beard. The long black patch of hair reached from one side of his face to the other. It was sexy as hell but when he tugged on it that only meant one thing, he was getting annoyed.

  “You try counting a hundred thousand dollars. Chill the fuck out.” He was always up my ass, trying to rush me to do something, but being right takes time.

  “Here, there it is. One hundred thousand is now ready for you.” I told him as I secured the last roll of five thousand dollars with a rubber band and tossed it into the pile of bills. He looked it over, sifting through the rolls and picking up the bag to check the weight.

  “Are you sure it's right on?”

  “Of course I’m sure. You think I would play like this?” He acted like he was messing with an amateur. His eye twitching told me that he was getting angry, instead of letting the volcano of Don erupt all over me I took the lower road, choosing to humble myself to the roar of my man.

  “I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to get smart. I’m just a little tired. You know I just got off work.” The sun was coming up and in the corner was my own bag of money to count. Fives, tens, and twenties hung out of an overfilled black trash bag right beside my Gucci purse and dirty work clothes.

  “What the fuck you tired for? Shit you just stand there and people throw money at you. I’m the one out here risking my life.” I wanted to tell him sliding up and down a pole wasn’t the easiest job in the world. Or better yet tell him to go parade around in some six inch heels on a concrete floor and see if he feels good after five hours.

  “Just work baby. That’s all.” Again I became small like a damn mouse to his ego. Choosing to be happy and nice instead of the bitch cursing him out. That’s what I wanted, to be the bitch and go off, but that would only end with one resolution. Me crying, and him running out the door.

  “Good. Better be right.” I watched him as he pulled on his black Gucci shirt, covering up his wild tattoos. The huge portrait of Houston on his back was soon covered up by the finest black, red and green shirt that money could buy. Everything Don had was the best, from his clothes, to his cars, and even the weed he smoked. I watched as he
picked up the blunt and stuffed it in his breast pocket.

  “I left some cookies for you in the top drawer. The papers in there too. Don’t be fucking with my lean.” He would leave me the weed but what I really wanted was always off limits, just like our relationship.

  He zipped up the bag and I didn’t say a word. Instead I pulled the weed that he called cookies out of the drawer and started breaking it down to roll up the first joint of the day. I just wanted the old times back, when we first met and the sex was good and conversation was dope. Now all I got were arguments, demands, and problems. But I didn’t say a word.

  “When is your sister coming in?”

  “Today...sometime this afternoon.”

  “Good...gotta get her on the train.” I rolled my eyes at that.

  “Listen about that. I don’t think Fendi is a good choice.”

  “Fuck that. She look fine as fuck to me.” He had only seen pictures, he had no idea what was between her legs.

  “But she isn’t the type. She’s into boosting, credit card scams, maybe a little blackmail.” I tried to steer this in another direction. If I could get Fendi out of his master plan then I could have her come here for a few weeks, then leave before he could even get her on the team.

  “Look I told you…” before he could finish his phone rang. I could tell by the ringtone that it was her. This special buzzing noise he made that was different from every other ring of his phone.

  “Hello…” To everybody else it was What or Yeah. She got hello in this special tone. “Yeah. Okay. That’s cool. I’ll get that fixed don’t worry about that.” I wanted to throw up listening to my man talk to this bitch.

  “Alright baby. I gotta go.” That was it. I jumped up and went to the bathroom. Slamming the door as hard as I could, damn near knocking the mirror off the wall.

  “FUCK!” It was all I could do, scream. Scream at myself for being in love with a piece of shit. It must have taken him a full minute to finally come to the door, another minute more and I was going to curse his ass out.

  “What the fuck wrong with you man?”

  “You answer the phone for that bitch while…”

  “Hey! Don’t call her no bitch. You know how I feel about that.” I felt my body shake trying not to slap the shit out of this man.

  “You are just fucking me. You're fucking me and going home to her. You lie to me and string me along and…”

  “Ain’t nobody stringing you along.”

  “Then why has nothing changed? You said this shit would be here by the summer.”

  “We still in the summer.”

  “And I’m still your side bitch. I’m tired of that. I want to be your one and only, or nothing at all.” It was my first time giving him this notice. Usually I would pout but never go this far. Now he was looking at me like he had never seen me before.

  “Man you on some new shit. You know I need this to stay like it is until my situation let up.” It was always about him and his situation.

  “I’m tired of waiting, I…” that ringtone filled the air again. Her… I was so tired of her.

  “Hold on baby. Please.” He eased out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Everything in me wanted to go out there and scream. I wanted that bitch to know I was here and not some secret in the streets. I was in the shadow of this bitch just because she was married to Don. But a piece of paper was just that.

  Before I could move or make a sound my phone buzzed in my hand.

  ‘You ready for me to come over yet?’ I loved Don but I couldn’t wait forever. And while he was leaving me neglected, somebody else was picking up his slack.

  “What you laughing at?” He was back and I didn’t even hear him open the door but I was so cold at this shit I didn’t even flinch.

  “Fendi stupid ass sent me this.” I showed him some bullshit meme I had pulled up real quick.

  “Aww girl I don’t have time for that shit. I just want you to be cool. Let’s just keep shit like it is aight.” Now I was numb, I could no longer hear what Don was saying because my pussy was thinking about someone else.

  “Aight baby. I was just mad cause I miss you.”

  “Shit don’t do that though. Just chill okay.” I nodded and smiled like I would. I gave him a kiss and let him squeeze my ass but I was mentally checked out. He no longer existed. I just needed this nigga gone in a hurry.

  “Aight then. When you go get ’your sister, can you go grab them shoes for me that I told you about?” Again with the bullshit.

  “You mean the shoes for ’your wife?” He was always asking me to run little bullshit errands like I was his personal assistant.

  “Yeah bae. I need you to do this please. I don’t have time. We just gotta wait a little minute and we’ll be done with this bitch. Can you roll with the game plan?” I couldn’t say a word. It felt like time stood still, even the TV stopped playing. In that moment I let all the shit that Don had put me through roll off my back. He didn’t give a fuck about me so why did this matter.

  “Yeah Don...whatever you need.” I was done fighting. I watched him get ready to leave and I thought about why I came here in the first place.

  Houston was the land of plenty, more money down here than I could fucking count and there was more coming every day. Rolling up my joint I zoned out and forgot that Don was even in the house. When he said goodbye I barely said a word.

  I kept rolling and soon my phone rang. Seeing his number flipped a switch inside me and I turned into a new person.

  “Hello…”

  “Is that nigga gone?” I wanted to laugh at that as I jumped up, checking through the blinds.

  “Yep, we're in the clear.”

  “Cool, you got everything ready for me?”

  “Yep, I got two cups filled with ice, a full two liter of sprite, and the best mud in the city just for you.”

  “What about that bitch ass nigga? What did he say he was going to do?”

  “Well, he is actually going to handle some business and then he said he is coming to see you.”

  Astro laughed at that and so did I. “He’s lying. I don’t see him till much later.”

  “Well that’s what he said. So…” This was by far the messiest thing I’ve done. Fucking two men that were business partners. I should have known better but variety is the spice of life and, most of all, money made me cum. Whoever had a bill in their hand was who got my attention.

  “Don’t worry about him baby.”

  “I ain’t never worried about him. But the fact you stringing onto that bitch ass nigga pisses me off.” I wanted to laugh at him. He was busy having a pissing contest with my man and all I wanted was his bread.

  “I tell you what. Bring that long dick over here and I’ll see what I can do about all that.” I said laughing into the phone.

  “Shit, I’m on my way then.” Before he hung up I heard his car start. The man was serious about me and didn’t give a fuck about Don. That was the type of attention I needed, plus a bitch had bills to pay.

  When I came to Houston I found out one thing. Closed legs don’t get fed. Fendi wasn’t ready for this shit and I wasn’t ready for her. I had a plan of my own and this fool coming down here to get in the way was only going to fuck up the moves I was making.

  Money always needed to be made and as I opened my laptop, ordering shoes for Don’s wife, I wondered what if. What if I was the main bitch instead of playing the sideline? I could rock the freshest clothes and fly whips and not have to climb a pole to get it.

  I wanted that feeling, I wanted to be free like the bitch that could call herself Mrs. Don, but that wasn’t my life. If I’m not the main chick then I might as well be Astro’s chick, and who gave a fuck what Don had to say about it.

  6

  Trap Loyalty

  Don

  I can go from the studio to the trap with no problem, and right now that was exactly what I was doing. The sun was barely up yet and here I was pulling into my other workspace, but to everybody
else it looked like a vacant building.

  Plywood covered the doors and windows making it appear as if no living person was inside, yet walking up to the door it only took a few knocks and a jiggle of a door knob to get me inside.

  Adjusting my eyes to the dim darkness of the room, it was like walking through a desert to an oasis of hood luxury. Big TV screens covered the walls, each of them from a different camera covering all angles from the house and parts of the street. This was my boy Uzi’s shit and he wasn’t leaving one stone unturned.

  “Hurry up and close the door.” Uzi yelled and I did just what he said. Walking into Uzi’s trap was like walking into an armory. Guns lined his kitchen table, it was all the usual players. My nigga Julio was in the corner cutting up some dope and my boy Uzi was sucking on a cup of lean as usual. Crunching on ice made it sound like glaciers were crashing together in the room. He had his white Styrofoam cup with him, doubled up as usual, taking it to the head like it was the last drink of his life.

  “Bruh...you spilling shit man.” I hadn’t been here five minutes and I could already tell that Uzi was sauced. He was slurping down the purple drink but he was falling asleep at the same time. Chunks of ice falling out of the cup onto the floor. I pointed out the cubes of ice on the floor that conveniently landed in some piles of money but he didn’t move to pick them up. The nigga was sloppy but he was also super paid.

  “It ain’t shit. The money will soak it up.” Lying next to him was his name sake, a full load sitting on the edge of the table like a decoration.

  “It’s all cool fam. He good…” In the corner where no one could see was Uzi’s right hand Keeno. He had a strap longer than his leg right at his side. He stood in the corner like a damn guard. He didn’t move and I hardly heard Keeno talk. What he was paid for was to watch Uzi’s back. They were usually always together, whether you saw the nigga or not.