That shit piqued my interest like fuck. Not because I gave a fuck about the bitch because I didn’t. If she died, I wouldn’t blink once. The reason I was even interested was because the hoe was supposed to be running that damn business that I still had money invested in. And if she was missing, that meant the shit had probably gone down in flames. If Charlie’s ass wasn’t dead, I was gon’ murk her ass when I found her.
“You checked Zebra?” I wanted to be sure.
“Yep. I called her millions of times, and dropped by the house multiple times and different times of the day. Angie is worried too.”
“Damn, maybe you need to go to the police or something.”
“No, she’s hiding on purpose.”
“On purpose? The fuck for what?”
“A lady approached me the day of my accident, and she umm… she claims that my aunt Charlie sold her Lily six years ago.”
For a minute, I just stared up at Draylah confused. I knew Charlie was trash, but damn.
“Lily, your baby Lily?”
Draylah nodded, and then covered her face for a few moments. She always did that when she didn’t wanna cry, so I kissed her hands and then moved them out of the way before pecking her soft ass lips.
“Yeah, she umm,” she sniffled. “She says she paid for her, and she wants me to give her six-year-old daughter Lily blood because she needs it right now. I hadn’t decided yet, but I’ve been asking her to update me on Lily, and she’s still alive but she needs the blood. They have her on a list or something because she’s not Type O. I want to see her but, I don’t know ... I’m not too sure. What if this is fake?”
“If it is, then why is Charlie hiding? How would this bitch know her, and how would she know Lily’s exact age?”
“A part of me wants her to be lying, which would mean my baby actually did die. Is that bad for me to wish that?”
“Nah, Draylah.” I kissed her shoulder. “You just don’t wanna believe that all this time you’ve been without her.”
I was keeping calm for my girl, but on the inside, a nigga was seething like a muthafucka. I could already feel my hands around Charlie’s frail ass neck, squeezing until that bitch took her last breath. Fucking with Draylah was like fucking with me, but ten times worse in my eyes. Any muthafucka that had my girl crying, or shit, smiling for that matter, was gon’ get that work; that murder work. Simple.
“Yeah. But I came here to see how you were. I don’t wanna complain when you’re the one locked up.”
“Who else you gon’ complain to?”
Smiling and sniffling, she threw her arms around my neck and said, “Only you. You’re my best friend.” She kissed me.
“Best friend that gets to fuck.”
“Ricky.”
“I’m serious. That’s the only type of muthafuckin’ best friend I can be to you. Gotta be able to get some pussy.”
“So if I decided to be a nun, then you’d leave me?”
“Nah, you’d just be the only nun getting fucked.”
“Oh my gosh!” She shrieked with laughter as I kissed on her neck and collarbone.
“Bend that ass over that pew and get to work.”
“Ricky! Stop that blasphemous!” She chortled loudly, and as always, I got lost in her pretty ass smile. “You are so ridiculous!”
“Nah, I’m serious as fuck. No way you gon’ keep that good shit from me.” I rubbed her belly then said, “That’s how this right here happened.”
“I know.” She looked down with a smile. “I want you out now,” Draylah whined, poking her bottom lip out.
“I will be soon,” I lied. I ain’t know when I was getting out, but I prayed like hell that after my hearing in a few days, I’d know some shit. “Ouch.” I winced in pain when Draylah adjusted herself and bumped my stab wound.
“What happened to you?”
“I got into a little fight with some guards and then them niggas stabbed me.” I shrugged. “Nothing major.”
“Nothing major? When did this happen?”
“Relax, baby. It happened the day before I called you from that SA number.”
“Why didn’t you say anything, Ricky? I—”
“Because I wanted to make sure you were aight, Dray. You ain’t gotta worry about me. Long as you good, and my kid is even better, then relax. Chill.” I thumbed the tears trailing down her soft cheeks.
She hugged my neck tightly, sobbing softly as I rubbed her back. This was exactly why I didn’t wanna tell her pregnant ass. I knew she was gon’ be like this, and then in ten seconds, her ass was gone snap.
Pulling from our hug, she wiped her eyes and gritted, “Who was it? I will cut them niggas—”
“Draylah.” I laughed. “I got it.” I rubbed her belly.
“I know.” She pushed her hair behind her ears before giving me a half smile.
“You so fucking pretty, man.” I bit my lip, watching the way she grinned and blushed at my words.
“Still?”
“Always.”
“Even with this?” She pointed to her stomach. “And these lips?”
“Hell yeah. I like all that shit. And as long as I like it, then that’s all that matters, right?”
She nodded before hugging my neck to kiss me. We stayed outside chilling for a little longer, and for that time, a nigga had forgotten he was locked up. Draylah improved my fucking mood like crazy, so when it was time for her to go, I felt like a little ass kid being dropped off at kindergarten the first day.
“Call me tonight, Ricky, I’m serious,” she whispered against my lips when I leaned down to tongue her up nastily.
“Alright, Montana.” The guard nodded to me, giving me a look to let me know shit would start to look suspicious if I didn’t come on.
“Don’t touch her, my nigga,” I warned him when he reached for Draylah’s arm to make her walk a little faster. He and I made eye contact, and I threatened his ass further without speaking another word.
Like a smart nigga, he backed off and let Draylah walk on her own. I watched her until I couldn’t see her anymore, and then I was cuffed and escorted back to my cell.
Fuck. If my bail hearing didn’t go in my favor, I was gon’ lose my muthafuckin’ mind; not only in here, but on the bitch ass nigga who got me in here too. Whomever it was better enjoy their last days because it was a fucking wrap, on me.
***
The hearing …
“Your honor, the defendant here has a long list of criminal activity on his record. Not only that, but the crime he’s being charged for is not only horrendous, but it’s for the murder of a government official,” this ugly ass lawyer bitch named Catherine Apollo spoke up. “He should not be granted bail.”
I just shook my head and looked off, glancing over my shoulder at Draylah, who was sitting in. My grandmother along with MG, and bitch ass Qamar were here too.
“Mr. Harris?” The judge looked to my lawyer. Dale fastened his tuxedo jacket, and picked up a few pieces of paper before speaking.
“Your honor, as stated on the documents filed, my client here hasn’t committed a crime in a year, and not only that, he’s served time for them all. He is a very famous rapper, and at the moment, cannot flee the country because of work. Not to mention, he has a pregnant girlfriend who cannot travel at the moment, and whom he would not leave behind.”
The judge nodded.
“Oh please,” Catherine’s ass groaned.
“Mrs. Apollo, I do not need the commentary.” The female judge cut her eyes over. “I don’t know what to believe right now, so at the moment, only temporarily, I am going to have to deny bail. Once I come to a firm decision, I will have you back.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I mumbled to myself as I plopped down in my seat.
“Judge Carson, please—”
“Mr. Harris, that is my decision. Please leave your documents to support your case with me; same for you, Mrs. Apollo. Once I come to a conclusion, I will let you guys know.” The judge banged her
gavel and got up abruptly after both lawyers brought their folders to her.
I turned to look at Draylah and my grandmother, as they stood there crying silently while I got handcuffed.
“I guess that’s good enough for me for now,” Catherine commented as I was escorted past her.
“Yeah, for now,” I replied with a wicked smirk, before licking my lips and keeping strong eye contact with her as I smoothly pressed on. I could almost hear her breath get caught in her throat, and that was exactly what the fuck I wanted; to put some fright in that bitch’s veins.
I stopped by Draylah and my grandmother who both hugged and kissed me. I let my lips linger a little longer on Draylah’s mouth, because who knew when I’d kiss her again.
“This some bullshit.” MG shook his head, and I just gave him a nod to let him know I agreed.
“Damn, man, we gon’ get you out,” Qamar commented.
“Fuck you, nigga. Be happy I’m cuffed right now or I’d snap yo’ hoe ass neck. Ain’t no muthafuckin’ ‘we’ no more, bruh. I don’t even know why the fuck you brought yo’ groupie, cokehead ass up here like we cool,” I seethed, and the look on his stupid ass face was priceless. “Clay, keep that bitch from ‘round my damn family.”
Clay nodded in agreement.
Chapter Two: Qamar Hampton
Two days later …
“I love y’all, L.A.!” I shouted to the crowd.
I was doing a little come back show, per my manager’s request, to let everybody know I was healthy and back on track. That whole rehab shit fucked up my image a lot, and I was trying to save the shit as much as possible. I always had a bit of a bad boy persona, but a fool who snorted cocaine definitely wasn’t a part of that shit. I was feeling much better now, and even though I hated Ricky at the time for what he did, I was happy as hell I went to rehab.
The shit was hard as hell for me at first, especially because I had to face the fucking fact that I was addicted to cocaine, some shit I had been denying for months. It all came to a head when I was tweaking, going without the shit for days, and that was when it hit me that a nigga was a full-on powder head. I was only in rehab for a hot minute, before they all agreed that I could go home to the free world. I still had to check in with a drug counselor and shit, which I was fine with.
“Nice job out there.” Chelsea, my manager, smiled and hugged me. “I admit I was a bit worried because the emails and calls started to slow up, but I think we will be back to normal if you stay focused, Qamar.”
“I agree.” I smiled.
“Okay, well, I will see you tomorrow for the morning show, and remember, this is a big one, okay?”
“I got you.”
Chelsea smiled and then pranced off.
I walked to my dressing room and closed the door behind me. As soon as I sat down, I grabbed up my iPhone to see if I had any missed texts or calls from Bia. I hit her up on her phone, Instagram, Facebook, and even sent a mail invite to my show, but I didn’t see her. I’d even gone by her house, but her mama and even little ass Taya wouldn’t even let me get to her. I was hoping maybe she was out there in the audience, but just got lost in the sea of muthafuckas out there.
Usually when Bia got mad at me, it didn’t bother me as much, but I guess because deep down I could feel that she was done with me, it was worse this go-round. Dialing her ass up, I waited as the line rang, and like always for the last week and a half, she didn’t pick up.
“This the last fucking time,” I grumbled, punching in her number yet again.
“Hello?” she answered, voice sounding a little too chipper for my liking. I was over here sulking and shit on the low, and she sounded like she was in the damn Bahamas or something.
“Bia?” I quizzed, because I was still shocked at how okay her ass sounded; shit, more than okay.
“Yes, Qamar.”
“Why you ain’t answer the phone? I’ve been calling you all damn day.”
“Well for one, I’m not obligated to answer your calls. Secondly, I was at work all day, and then I went to dinner with my friends.”
“Ohhh.” I chuckled angrily. “So you went to dinner with ya friends even though I invited you to my damn show.”
“Pretty much.”
“Fuck you being petty for? You know I’m sorry for the shit I said, and all the bullshit I did to you before I went to rehab, Bia. Damn!”
“And I appreciate your apology, Qamar. I’m not being petty though, at all. I was busy at work, and then I went to dinner. I didn’t feel like going to your show, that was all.”
“Why?”
“Because I just didn’t.”
I stared at the wall for a little bit, tongue stuck in my cheek. I didn’t like this version of Bia at fucking all, but I knew I’d deserved the shit. I admit I liked her much better when she was weaker, because this strong shit was whack.
“Aight, I get it. How long you gon’ play this damn game? I’m already bugging and shit about us not rocking together, baby.” I slinked down on the couch, feeling defeated.
“This is not an act or game, Qamar. What I told you when I visited you were my honest feelings. I don’t want to be with you. I’m not just telling you this in hopes that you’ll change. I honestly don’t want anything to do with you. I wish you well in life, but we can’t be together.”
“Bia, baby, come on.” I sat up, dropping my head into my free hand, since I was holding my phone with the other. “Baby, don’t do this shit, please. I miss you, I love you.”
There was a dead silence on the phone.
“Qamar, stop it. I have to get to bed and be up early for work. I cannot do this with you right now. You don’t love me.”
“I do.”
“No, if you did love me, you would know how to treat me. You wouldn’t be sending me invites to your fucking show, and calling me about why I didn’t show up. That is not a man who loves a woman. What did you think was gonna happen, Qamar? I was gonna show up and miraculously start liking you again, and then fuck you and all would be well?” She chuckled a little. “Yeah, I bet that’s what you thought. Stop with the little boy gestures. If you want something, you work for it.”
“I’ll do that then.”
“No, don’t. This is advice for the next bitch, not me.”
“I don’t want the next bitch, I want you. I just said I loved yo’ ass, so why the fuck would I be checking for a new bitch?”
“Okay, but the problem is that I don’t love you. I have to like you as a person to love you, and I don’t.”
“Bia, all that shit I did was because of drugs and—”
“Look at you! Still making fucking excuses for your damn behavior! The stuff you did was because you were reckless, refusing to own up to your addiction, and thinking just because you’re Qamar, you can do whatever the fuck you want. Well you can’t, nigga. Stop acting like we have some great love, because we don’t! Let it go! You’re embarrassing yourself!”
She was right about me making excuses, but at the moment, it was easier for me to blame my actions on something than to face the fact that I’d done some horrible shit. I wasn’t ready for that yet. In a short period of time, I’d managed to fuck my life up completely, losing a girl I loved and a best friend that had, had my back even when he shouldn’t have. I didn’t know what the hell hurt worse, losing Bia or Ricky.
“I can’t just let it go,” I damn near whimpered. I could actually feel myself tearing up. “Bia, how you expect me to just go be with somebody else?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care, Qamar, but goodnight.”
“Goodnight. I love you, Bia—”
Click.
“Fuck!” I hollered, clutching my phone tightly as hell in my hand. It started ringing, so I quickly answered it. “Bia?”
“No, nigga, it’s Lacie.” My mood drained like a faulty ass battery upon hearing her damn voice. So for a little bit, I didn’t say shit as I massaged my eyes. “Qamar!”
“What, damn?”
“L
ook, we need to meet up and talk about how things are gonna go. Our baby is gonna be here soon, and as a man, you need to figure something out. Otherwise, Greezy is gonna be this child’s father, and you can sign over your parental rights.”
“Come through to the crib tonight around 8 p.m.”
“Okay,” she responded softly, before we both hung up.
***
A few hours later …
Instead of going home to wait for Lacie, I decided to stand her ass up and go to MG’s house. I wasn’t ready to see Lacie right now, and I damn sure didn’t wanna be a father. Maybe if Bia were pregnant by me, it’d be cool, but not Lacie. I didn’t want a baby with that bitch at all. In my eyes, a baby with anyone other than Bia wasn’t mine. Fuck what a DNA test said.
“It’s good to see you like this, Q. It’s been a long time,” MG commented, ashing his blunt.
“Yeah. You said Ricky had a cell phone in the pen? Let me get the number,” I said, getting right down to it.
I thought since it was Ricky’s idea to get me put in rehab, that it meant we were cool, but I was definitely mistaken about that shit. I don’t even know why I thought that, when I knew him and knew he wouldn’t forgive me, especially so quickly.
Looking at me like I was crazy, MG replied, “Nigga, hell nah. I ain’t giving you that damn number so he can kill us both. And frankly, I don’t too much agree with him forgiving yo’ ass just yet. He’s my friend too, and if I didn’t know you, I for damn sure wouldn’t be telling him to forgive you. So nah, you ain’t getting that shit from me.”
“Man, how the fuck am I supposed get back in good with the nigga? You saw how he dissed me in the courtroom.”
“Fuck you expect, nigga? Do you remember the shit you said? This is Ricky we talking about. Give that shit up, y’all not gon’ be cool, ever.”
“I can’t live with that.” I shook my head.
“Aight, get yo’ ass whooped again, Qamar. Remember last time, you pissed all over yourself.” MG burst into laughter.
“Fuck you, man.”
“I ain’t never seen a nigga get his ass whooped like that, Qamar. You need to leave that shit alone.” MG chuckled.
She Got It Bad for a Heartless Gangsta Page 6
