by Tysha
Chapter 5
Our Private Time
Melvin stepped through the door when the clock read 11:56 P.M. Lucky for him the police didn’t catch him speeding. He’d rather deal with a speeding ticket than an angry and disappointed wife. Melvin was curious as to what Shy had planned for them. Bedtime was his favorite time of day. The way he was feeling, Melvin hoped his wife wasn’t in the mood for romance because he planned to give it to her aggressively. Melvin had to fulfill the urge to ravish his wife.
Shy knew how to pleasure Melvin. They hadn’t lasted year after year by chance. It took a lot of hard work on both their parts. The intimacy they shared outside of the bedroom remained strong. Stealing kisses and copping feels was a daily occurrence. Communication and intimacy helped them withstand the test of time.
A smile spread across Melvin’s face when he walked into their bedroom. Shy was in a freaky mood. Melvin couldn’t have been happier. Shy had her toys laid out and was dressed in Melvin’s favorite play clothes.
“Get in here, boy,” Shy ordered.
“Let the fun begin,” Melvin said as he undressed.
Melvin loved the pink thigh-high fishnet stockings Shy had on. The lace garter belt and matching bra made his dick stand at attention every time. After carrying twins, Shy’s body had changed but Melvin loved her unconditionally, flaws and all. After he finished undressing, Shy pushed Melvin onto their bed. She jumped up, kneeled between his legs, and immediately took him into her mouth. The warmth and wetness of her mouth drove Melvin crazy. She ran her hand up and down his shaft as she sucked, licked, and French kissed the tip of his dick. The thick vein lining the length of his shaft began to pulsate, causing Shy to stop. She planned on taking her time teasing him. They had all night together.
Melvin grabbed Shy’s arms and slammed her onto her back. He rolled her over and pulled her hips back toward him. With the right amount of force to make Shy smile, Melvin entered her from behind and wrapped her hair around his hand. Shy threw it right back at him. She was going to give as good as she got. Melvin released her hair, bending over to grab her bouncing breast while never slowing the gyration of his thrust.
“Can I give it to you?” Melvin grunted.
“Give it to me, nigga,” Shy directed.
With her permission, Melvin burst his first nut of the night. The night wasn’t over. That was just the first round. Melvin and Shy would be ready for round two after a quick water break.
The couple lay across the bed, talking and joking. Shy picked up her feather and ran in across Melvin’s left side, tickling him. He laughed and grabbed her in a bear hug. They wrestled for the handcuffs. Melvin won and hooked Shy up to the bed railing. Shy lay on her side, begging for her freedom.
“Relax,” Melvin told his wife. “I’m going to take care of you.” He proceeded to rub cocoa butter body oil all over her body. Melvin inhaled Shy’s scent, giving him butterflies in his stomach. At times he wondered what he’d done to have such a strong, devoted woman in his life. Her love had gotten him through some difficult times. The support she gave him was immeasurable. Melvin lived to make Shy happy. She completed him in every way.
Melvin couldn’t stop running his fingers along the contours of his wife’s body. She kept her skin baby soft and glowing. He kissed every inch of her body as their souls made an intimate connection that only they understood. Melvin went from wanting it hard and fast to taking his time. Melvin released Shy from the handcuffs. He needed to feel her touch, press her body against his, and enjoy his wife from head to toe.
Shy kissed her husband passionately. She saw a touch of sadness in his eyes that made her uncomfortable.
“Are you okay?”
“Baby, do you know how much you mean to me?” Melvin spoke softly as he ran his fingers through her hair.
Shy loved for Melvin to play in her hair. It turned her on when he verbally expressed his feelings for her. Melvin rarely said the words “I love you.” He preferred to show his woman how much she meant to him.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” Shy began to worry. Melvin’s head seemed to be elsewhere.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just need you to know how much I love you. I take my responsibility as your husband seriously. I know I don’t say it as often as you might need me to but I love you deep down in my soul, girl,” Melvin expressed freely. He held Shy in his arms, taking in the warmth of her body. Their hearts beat in unison.
“I love you, always. It’s like loving you was my destiny. I couldn’t make it without you. You’re my soul,” Shy proclaimed gently.
They kissed passionately, lovingly, exchanging breaths as their bodies became one. Shy wrapped her legs around Melvin’s waist tightly. He lifted her up effortlessly and he carried her across the room. Melvin pressed Shy’s back against the wall, never losing his grip or releasing himself from her throbbing lips. Her walls felt built for only him. His fit inside her love was perfect. Melvin knew he was the one and only owner of Shy’s perfect tunnel.
Hours later, the couple had visited every position possible from the book of Kama Sutra. They showered together before finally getting into bed for a good night’s sleep. Shy curled up in Melvin’s arms and he held her tightly against his chest.
“Damn, boy, you worked it out like it was the last time,” Shy said jokingly.
“Girl, it’s never the last time with us. I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you, baby.”
Chapter 6
Summer Nights—The Beginning of the End
Melvin took a long drag from the Newport 100 dangling between his lips as his dark eyes stared a hole through the small man standing before him.
For Silk, each passing second felt like an eternity. He had no idea how much longer he would be able to control his bladder. Silk knew all Melvin had to do was reach out his long arm, grab hold of his neck, and squeeze the life out of him. Melvin gave Silk a free pass the first time he came up short. That pass came with a warning never to deal Melvin another dirty hand. Silk’s good luck ran out thirty minutes after that narrow escape.
Silk was pulled stopped by an unmarked police car driven by Detective Keith Roberts. The veteran narcotics officer pulled Silk over and found the three kilos of cocaine taped to the car’s undercarriage. Silk was taking his last few breaths on earth as a direct result of being in an interrogation room for six hours with the detective. When the undercover cop approached Silk about wearing a wire to his meetings with his drug connection, Detective Keith Roberts said nothing about the money supplied by the department being short of his outstanding payments. As beads of sweat slowly rolled down his dark skin, Silk silently said a prayer.
“You must take me for some kind of bitch,” Melvin said in almost a whisper. His tone put more fear in Silk’s heart.
Silk’s knees began shaking uncontrollably, causing him to lose control of his bladder. His head dropped along with his shoulders as Silk prepared to meet his Maker. The only thing that could save him was for Roberts to make his arrest.
“I warned your punk ass not to fuck me over again, didn’t I?” barked Melvin. He grabbed Silk by his neck, and slammed him against his own car.
“Come on, man, you ain’t got to kill him. Give him a second chance.” Roberts made a weak attempt to defuse the situation. He could not have cared less what became of the weak man who was struggling to breathe. As long as he could get the DA’s office to issue a warrant for the city’s most dangerous drug dealer, Roberts would be satisfied. Shit, if it comes down to it, I will add murder to the long list of charges, thought the detective. With the life being choked out of him, Silk cannot blow my cover as a consolation prize.
“Stay the fuck up off me, man. This don’t have shit to do with our business,” grunted Melvin through clinched teeth. Silk’s eye’s started to bug out of his head as Melvin tightened his grip. “This little fuck must think he can keep getting away with dipping into what belongs to me. I warned him. Didn’t I, you bitch-ass prick?” Melvin grimaced as he w
atched the life drain from Silk. He hated weak men and everything about them.
Melvin, with the help of his evasive partner, now ran the city and no one dared to challenge them. Over the years, Melvin had risen to the top of the drug chain while B-Boy was sucked into the belly of the Ohio prison system. It was not clear who Melvin’s partner was but whispers from the street said the mystery kingpin was powerful enough to keep Melvin protected from betrayal, arrest, and death.
Two minutes later, Melvin released his hold and took a step back as the lifeless body fell to the ground. Melvin turned his back on his handy work and strolled off toward his car. Roberts walked behind his target and considered making the arrest but soon thought better of it. Knowing he now had enough to secure an arrest warrant and put Melvin McGee behind bars for the rest of his life almost made the detective aroused. He wanted all of the bells and whistles when the career making arrest was made.
“Look, man, I’ll holler at you later. That cocksucker done fucked up my schedule for the night. I’ll hit you up in a week to deliver the last ten you ordered but those few bricks lifted off Silk should hold you over ’til then,” explained Melvin.
The two men clasped hands, pulled each other forward, patted the other’s back, and simultaneously said, “One,” before parting ways.
Chapter 7
Never Can Say Good-bye
Shy sat in the first row of the funeral home with a heavy heart and stream of tears. She was sandwiched between her ten-year-old twin boys. Through her own broken heart and grief, Shy found the strength to hold it together for her sons. She felt as if every ticking minute was like a time bomb slowly releasing pellets of sorrow into her spirit.
The teenage sweethearts had become a happily married couple. All of their free time was spent together. Shy had no idea what she would do without the love of her life. Any time the two spent apart was miserable for them both. Whether it was a fifteen-minute trip to the corner store or a five-day girls-only trip to Vegas, their time away from each other was torture.
“Mommy, are you okay?” asked Jayden. After drying his own tears, he noticed the tears streaming down his mother’s face.
Terrified that she would lose all control of her emotions, Shy simply shook her head yes in response to her son’s question. It was the first time the twins saw their mother cry. For Jayden, it made him feel helpless because he knew nothing would take his mother’s pain away. Jayden scooted closer to his mother and wrapped his arm around hers as he stared at his father’s lifeless body.
The tragic event forever changed the McGee family. His presence would be missed in his sons’ lives. Melvin coached little league football and basketball games at the local Boys & Girls Club. Jayden and Prince looked forward to their annual fishing trips with their dad.
From the day he became a father, Melvin was determined to offer his children better childhoods than the one he endured. Melvin raised himself while both his parents dealt with being drug addicts. With both parents often pulling disappearing acts, waking up in the mornings to complete emptiness became a way of life for the young boy. Melvin was nine years old the last time it happened. It was the dead of winter and the heat was off at the McGee household. The cold forced Melvin to seek help at a neighbor’s house. Mahoning County Department of Child Services placed Melvin in the custody of his paternal grandmother. Before he could get comfortable at his new home, Melvin’s parents were killed during an armed robbery at a local pharmacy. Jamie and Patty McGee were missed by their only child. Though his grandmother showered Melvin with love, he often felt alone as a child. Melvin’s parents may have been neglectful but he loved them all the same.
Shy looked to her left to find Prince sitting in a daze. His heart was filled with sorrow and his body was consumed with anger and hate. From the day they were born, Prince was a daddy’s boy and Jayden was a momma’s boy. Prince knew his life would never be the same again. His hero, his best friend, and, most importantly, his father was gone, never to return. Prince knew in his heart that he would one day return the favor on the trigger-happy officer who murdered his father in cold blood. The feeling of emptiness and sorrow washed over Prince like a wave during a hurricane. He lowered his head and cried for the first time since he stood over his father’s warm body.
Jayden immediately jumped from his seat at the sound of his other half cries. He rushed over to comfort his brother by embracing him. The twins cried together for what their father’s absence would mean. Prince and Jayden wailed for the pain their mother was forced to endure.
Shy knew the twins were sharing a moment and let them be. Cherise rushed to the front pew to comfort her two godsons but Shy put up her hand to stop her. Shy looked up at Cherise and shook her head no. Cherise understood and sat in Jayden’s empty seat and held her best friend’s hand. Shy was holding it together for her boys in an attempt to be strong for them. The tears that fell from her eyes were more for her boys than for herself. She sat, rocking back and forth as her heart broke into a million pieces.
Just minutes into the funeral service it was time to close the casket as Lela Boyd sang Shy’s favorite gospel tune, “Too Close to the Mirror.” Prince let out a scream that startled everyone in attendance, and everyone began to cry. Prince yelled out, “Don’t close that door in my father’s face.” Unable to deal with his grief, Prince punched the funeral director, knocking him out cold. Jayden tried to restrain his brother but was not strong enough.
Jayden and Prince’ cousin, Quincy, sat heartbroken and feeling helpless to assist his family through their pain. When Prince began his assault on the poor funeral director, Quincy knew he had to do something. Raequan and Quincy raced to grab Prince before things got completely out of control. They were able to drag Prince outside and calm him down.
Shy was in shock and sat helpless to take away her sons’ pain. Lord, please watch over my boys and help them through this tragedy. I beg you, Lord Jesus, get Prince through this and help deliver him from his grief and anger. Forgive him, for he knows not what he does, cried Shy.
As time went on, Shy would pray that exact prayer for many years. Prince was never able to let go of his anger, his grief, or his thirst for revenge.
Chapter 8
Can’t Stomp with the Real Hustlers
“Thirty-two-year-old Melvin McGee, an alleged drug kingpin, was laid to rest today following a ceremony fit for a king. The family and friends said their final good-byes just one week after a secret indictment came down on McGee, who was believed to be one of the most powerful drug dealers in northeast Ohio. The narcotics division of the Youngstown Police Department was attempting to serve an arrest warrant on McGee at the home he shared with his wife and twin sons, when McGee was shot and killed,” explained news anchor Lori Findley. “Police are not saying what happened but it is alleged that McGee resisted arrest during the raid. Community leaders and family members are calling for a complete and unbiased investigation into the incident. It seems that McGee’s ten-year-old son witnessed the shooting. A spokesperson for the family promised that both community leaders and the family will meet with the press after McGee’s loved ones have had proper time to grieve,” concluded Findley.
Officer Roberts’s heart raced while he listened to the brief report the news anchor offered to their dedicated viewers.
“In other news . . .”
Shit, that was a waste of airtime, fumed Roberts to himself. The news’ focus on that piece of shit McGee is not going to help me make this shit go away. Roberts jumped up from his worn couch in search of his car keys and three-year-old Air Nikes. He went to the corner store for a copy of the day’s newspaper and a carton of cigarettes. The Vindicator would offer more information.
Roberts was disappointed after reading the article covering Melvin McGee’s funeral. The report pretty much read like the news coverage except for insinuating he was a trigger-happy detective looking to make a name for himself. Roberts made no apologies for taking the life of any man, woman, or child who sold drug
s on the same city streets he vowed to protect. His only regret was not connecting with Melvin’s unidentified partner in crime.
Negative attention hovered over the city like a helicopter. The mayor had demanded a full investigation be conducted. Roberts doubted his fellow officers would say anything to drown his career but the victim’s son was another matter. With his future on the line, Roberts found solace in alcohol and self-pity. A detailed report had been delivered to the police commissioner and as a result, Roberts would be meeting with him early the next morning.
Roberts arrived at the Commisioner’s office at exactly seven-thirty. Roberts sat across from the oversized leather chair embroidered with the Commisioner’s initials. Booker Thomas Martin III was as strong as his name suggested. The Commisioner’s frame was a massive six foot, four inches, and he was 280 pounds. His skin was the color of a macadamia nut and his scalp was as smooth as a baby’s bottom, which helped him sport his bald head with both dignity and authority.
Manila file folders, a desk calendar, and pictures of his wife and four children covered the mahogany desk. Roberts noticed the bright red flashes of light coming from the Commisioner’s telephone, signaling voice messages.
Roberts drank a gulp of his warm black coffee in attempt to wet his palate. Nerves always made his mouth as dry as the Sahara Desert. His eyes continued to study the corner office and for the first time since entering the space, Roberts noticed the forty-two-inch flat screen hanging on the wall to his far right. I am going to get me one of those before football season rolls around.
Commissioner Martin walked into his office, thirty minutes after Roberts’s arrival, without acknowledging the detective’s presence. He set his coffee mug on its electric coaster, removed his tailor-made suit jacket, and immediately began pacing the floor. Roberts noticed the worn carpet where the Commissioner paced. He must do that often, Roberts thought. After what felt like an eternity to Roberts, Commissioner Martin stopped in front of the window and broke his silence.
