by Shelly Ellis
He quickly shook his head. “No! No, we’re not having issues . . . I mean, everybody goes through things. We’ve been through them before. I mean . . . couples have rough patches and it feels a little different this time but we . . .” His words drifted off. They sounded hallow and forced. He set down his glass and exhaled. He closed his eyes. “I’m just . . . I’m just fucking tired. I’m tired of being pissed off. I’m tired of seeing her pissed off at me. I’m tired of the silence. I am fucking tired of talking about the silence between me and her! I am just . . . I’m just tired, Morgan!”
“I was too. That’s when I knew. That’s when I knew it was time to end it.”
He opened his eyes.
“When trying to make it work doesn’t seem worth it anymore, it’s just better to walk away, Derrick. Life is too short to be miserable!”
“That’s easy to say, but it ain’t that easy to do,” he muttered. “We’re engaged! We’ve got almost twenty years of history together and—”
“So what? What does any of that matter if it’s not working out for you two now?”
“I love her,” he said, and he meant it with every fiber of his being. Melissa frustrated the hell out of him, but he still loved her. After all these years and all those moments they had shared, how could he not?
“And I love my ex too . . . sort of, despite all the shit he did! But it doesn’t mean we should’ve stayed together. It doesn’t mean our relationship was healthy or right for us, Derrick.”
He pursed his lips.
“Let me ask you something. If you found a genie in a lamp . . .”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “A genie in a lamp? Come on, girl!”
“I’m serious! I’m making a point here. Just stick with me. If you found a genie in a lamp who could grant you only one wish, and the choice was between breaking up with your girl today, or continuing your relationship for the next five years in the same state it is now, which would you choose?”
He shook his head. “But I don’t know if it’ll stay the same. Things could get better.”
“And you don’t know if things will get worse either. Besides, that wasn’t my question,” she said, leaning forward. Her curly hair almost skimmed the top of her wine glass. “My question was, if he gave you a choice, which would you choose?”
Derrick held up his hands in surrender. “Break up, I guess.”
“Then that’s your answer.”
“How is it—”
“It’s where your head space is. I bet you’ve tried, right? To talk . . . to compromise . . . to love up on her. But it didn’t work?”
He gradually shook his head.
“So now you’re waiting around for things to get better, but you gotta accept they may never get better again. If you’re willing to accept that, then stay with her. If you’re not, then it’s time to bounce.”
He pursed his lips, letting her words sink in. The waiter arrived soon after with their food. Their conversation drifted to other topics. He even laughed a few times, but in the back of his mind he kept thinking about what Morgan had said. His life as it was right now would be unbearable; it would be like a prison sentence if he had to do this with Melissa five more years. He’d be serving time all over again, much like he had when he was twelve-years-old. Did he really want that for himself? Did he want that for Melissa?
* * *
A couple of hours later, Derrick pulled up to the curb in front of Morgan’s apartment building. He drew to a stop and gazed through the window at the brick exterior and its cement front stoop. A few young men milled about near the entrance, leaning against the railing, making him frown.
“You sure you don’t want me to walk you inside?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.
She laughed. “I’ll be okay. I know half of those dudes. They won’t bother me.”
He nodded. “All right. If you say so. I’ll just sit here until you get inside though.”
“You don’t have to do that . . . but thank you.”
He watched as she unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. But she paused before pushing the door open and turned to face him again.
“I really had fun with you tonight—despite the heavy conversation.”
Derrick gave a half smile. “Sorry for dropping that stuff on you, but I needed to talk about it, I guess. And I had fun with you too.”
He always did.
“Just know that I’ve been where you are, okay? It’s scary to try something new, especially when you’ve known the same situation for so long. But sometimes . . . sometimes, it’s for the better. You don’t know what else could be waiting for you.”
He squinted at her. “Like what?”
“Like someone new. Like me.”
He blinked. “Uh, Morgan, I’m real . . . umm . . . flattered but I don’t . . . I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, I think you do.” She placed a hand on his cheek, catching him off guard. “I think you’ve felt something between us for months now but you’ve been holding back, like I’ve been holding back. Because you’re that kind of guy. And I respect you for it. But now that I know you’re ready to move on, I think I should show you what could be waiting for you on the other side.”
She then leaned forward and brought her mouth to his. It took him a few seconds to realize she was kissing him, that she was toying with his bottom lip.
Instead of pulling his head back or easing her away, which is what he should’ve done and what every alarm bell in his head screamed for him to do, Derrick did the opposite. He placed his hand at the base of her neck and leaned her head back so that the kiss could deepen. He slid his tongue inside of her mouth and she moaned and met his tongue with her own. The toying with his bottom lip became full on nipping. Morgan dropped her hand from his cheek to his chest, fisting the fabric of his sweater in her hand, dragging him closer to her.
After a few minutes, she ended the sultry kiss. They were both breathing hard, like they had just run a ten-miler and finished first and second place.
He gazed down at her, at her kiss-swollen lips and the hungry gleam in her green eyes. He realized with both fascination and horror what they had just done.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered before giving him a quick peck.
He then watched, dumbfounded as she shoved the car door open, slammed it shut behind her, and strolled up her apartment stairs, excusing her way through the crowd of young men who shouted greetings to her.
“Shit,” Derrick whispered as the apartment door closed behind Morgan.
He was officially a cheater now.
Chapter 26
Ricky
Simone didn’t want to hear the truth. He knew she wouldn’t.
“Skylar doesn’t want to leave,” Ricky said. “I asked her and she told me outright that she wants to stay.”
He watched as Simone shook her head, folding towels on her bed as he spoke. “No. That’s not possible.”
“Simone,” he began as she shifted and turned her back to him, “listen to me, baby. She’s just—”
“No, Ricky!” she yelled. “This is bullshit! It’s bullshit!”
They were in Simone’s apartment. He had stopped by with no notice, only to find her in a tank top and shorts, knee deep in housecleaning and doing her laundry. He could have told her by phone what had happened yesterday at Dolla Dolla’s place, but he knew that breaking news like this had to be done in person. It was like hearing a relative had just died. He wanted to be there to hold her, to help her through the full cycle of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, despair, and then finally, acceptance.
“Why the hell would she want to stay there?” she cried. She was furiously folding clothes and towels again like she was some possessed housemaid. “It doesn’t make any sense! He’s keeping her prisoner! He’s brainwashing her and—”
“He may have brainwashed her, but he’s not keeping her prisoner. She could’ve walked out that front door that day. She could’ve done it at any point—no o
ne was watching! But she didn’t want to. She told me she didn’t want to.” He took a deep breath and loudly exhaled. “She told me too that she wants you to leave her alone . . . to stop trying to rescue her.”
“She didn’t mean that,” she said, making him close his eyes and groan. “She didn’t, Ricky! I know my sister. She said that the last time, but when I found her and brought her home—”
“Wait.” He eyed her. “What do you mean ‘the last time’? She’s done this before?”
Simone didn’t answer him. Instead, she folded a shirt then a skirt; her movements didn’t pause. She stacked them neatly in the laundry basket.
“Don’t act like I’m not talking to you. Answer me, damn it! Has she done this before?”
She didn’t respond and Ricky stared at her, silently fuming. He wanted to yank the clothes out of her hands, to shake some sense into her. He was reaching his breaking point with Simone . . . with Skylar . . . with this whole damn drama. He grabbed her shoulders and whipped her around to face him.
“Damnit, will you stop fucking folding shit and look at me?”
“What?” she yelled.
He could see her denial had shifted to anger, but he was angry, too.
“Has she done this shit before, Simone?” he repeated slowly.
Simone pulled her arms out of his grasp and crossed them over her chest. She dropped her eyes to the carpeted floor. “Yes, she’s run away a couple of times. But . . . but never like this. She’d be gone a few days with friends or a boy, but . . . she never just . . . just . . .” Her words drifted off.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before? You made it sound like this was some—”
“Because I knew you’d be more willing to help when you believed she was some angel,” she said, raising her eyes to glare up at him. “You’d help me save her when you believed she was an innocent Catholic school girl. If I told you she’d been expelled for giving blow jobs to the track team in the bathroom at her last high school, would you have helped me? If I told you I’d found a baggie filled with coke in her dresser drawer a month before she disappeared, would you have even listened to what I had to say?”
“To hell with that shit! Don’t try to turn this around on me. You should’ve been honest with me. I put my neck out for you. The least . . . the very fucking least you could’ve given me was the truth!”
“Fine!” She flapped her arms. “I’ll be honest. Skylar isn’t perfect—and neither am I. She called me a pig sometimes, and I called her a snotty little bitch. She slapped me once when we argued about her bad grades, about her skipping school . . . and we fought—fists and all. She got high. She got drunk. She hooked up with boys and girls. She was a fucked up kid before this even happened. But that doesn’t mean I can just leave her to this . . . this nightmare, Ricky. You know that! You remember what happened to Desiree and—”
“Will you stop fucking bringing up my sister?” he shouted. “Of course, I know what happened to her. I’ll never forget that shit!”
“Well, if you know what happened, then you understand that—”
“Listen to me! Clean out your fucking ears and really hear me, okay? I can see how Skylar’s situation is just like Desiree’s. I’m not stupid! When I looked into your sister’s eyes, I saw my sister, all right?” he said, feeling his throat tighten. “I saw the same stubbornness. I saw that the drugs and the little soundtrack of delusional bullshit she had playing in her head were talking a lot fucking louder than me. Skylar blew me off the same way Desiree did. She doesn’t want to be saved. You cannot save her, Simone. You can’t!”
The fury disappeared from her expression. She dropped her hands from her hips.
“She has to want to do it . . . and right now, she doesn’t. Maybe she will later, but for now please, just . . . just let this go. Just stop!”
She pursed her lips. He could see tears flooding her eyes. He reached out to her and tried to draw her close, but she shoved his hands away, refusing to let him comfort her. She turned her back to him and dropped her head, weeping silently. It pained him to see her cry, to see her so broken, but he couldn’t lie to her anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to disappoint you or hurt you. I wanted to . . . I wanted to bring her home for you.”
“I know,” she whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands and finally turning around to face him again. “I know.”
“Can you do it? Can you let her go?”
She didn’t answer him at first. Finally, she raised her reddened eyes to look at him. “I’ll let her go . . . if you let him go. If you walk away and break all ties with Dolla.”
Ricky frowned. How did they get on the topic of his business situation with Dolla Dolla? What did that have to do with any of this?
“He may not be forcing her to stay but he’s enabling her . . . he’s abusing her. He’s doing it to all those girls! I can’t turn a blind eye to that, and I don’t see how you can either.” She took several steps toward him. “Don’t do business with him. Break off ties, Ricky—before it’s too late.”
“I told you before. Doing business with Dolla is how I make my bread. My restaurant is legit. People depend on me, on me keeping the restaurant and the club open. Do you know how many folks would lose their jobs . . . who wouldn’t be able to pay their bills if I—”
“That money is dirty. His business is dirty, and it’s only a matter of time before he ends up behind bars. I’m not saying you have to do it, but if you want anything . . . anything to do with me, you’ll walk away.”
“Oh, I get it. I couldn’t save your sister so now you’re done with me? Is that what you’re saying? You were okay with me working with Dolla if it could help you get closer to Skylar, now me working with him is a problem?”
“I’m saying that if you insist on working for scumbag criminals, I don’t want anything to do with you. That’s what I’m saying.”
He clenched his fists at his sides. He’d wondered if this would happen. If she would finally give him an ultimatum.
“So what is it? Are you going to keep working with him?”
“No. No, I won’t do business with him anymore,” he said, shocked to hear the words on his tongue.
“You mean it, Ricky?” She squinted up at him. She grabbed the front of his T-shirt and dragged him towards her. She gazed into his eyes. “You better not be fucking lying to me!”
He linked his arms around her waist, drawing her close so she was flush against him, so they were nearly heart to heart. “I promise that’s what I’ll do, if that means you’ll let your sister work through her own shit.”
“It’s a deal then?”
“It’s a deal,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.
Ricky was a man of his word. He’d made Simone a solemn promise, and he would keep it. Besides, she was right. Dolla Dolla was taking his criminal empire in a direction Ricky didn’t want to go. Sex trafficking? Drugging up teen girls and pimping them out to men? He didn’t want a damn thing to do with that.
He planned to tell Dolla Dolla when he saw him that he appreciated everything he had done for him in the past, but he wanted out of the game for good. He wanted to finish paying the last he owed him for the seed loan to start Reynaud’s. He’d tell him he didn’t want to manage Club Majesty anymore. For the first time in his life, Ricky Reynaud was going completely straight; no more money under the table, stolen goods in the back room, and suitcases filled with drugs in the basement.
When Ricky arrived at Dolla Dolla’s McMansion in Virginia for another fight night bash, he mentally rehearsed the words in his head as he walked up the gravel driveway. He didn’t know what the drug kingpin’s response would be when he told him his plans to go full legit, but he suspected it wouldn’t be good. Dolla Dolla would probably get angry. He might even get violent.
Ricky just hoped he made it out of here tonight with all his fingers still attached—or at least, his limbs.
Ricky strolled through the French d
oors and made his way past the columned foyer to the great room where most of the partygoers were. Men laughed and shouted around him, but he wasn’t remotely in a partying mood. He hoped Dolla Dolla was though. Maybe if Ricky caught him while he was drunk, high, and jubilant, his response to Ricky asking to get out of their business relationship would be a lot more tempered.
“Hey, Pretty Ricky, what you up to nigga?” Dolla Dolla boomed from behind him as he stood in the great hall entryway.
Ricky turned to find the hulking, dark-skinned man striding toward him down the hall. A blunt was in one hand and a cognac glass was in the other. “You just getting here?”
Ricky nodded. “Yeah, I had a couple of things to do at Club Majesty first. Hope I didn’t miss much.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ bout! Always workin’ hard!” Dolla Dolla said before taking a hit from his blunt and thumping Ricky on his shoulder. “That’s why I like you, man. That’s why I depend on you! You always about making that money and getting the job done. You don’t give me bullshit like some other niggas around here.”
Ricky cleared his throat. “Actually, Dolla, I kinda wanted to talk to you about that. You see I was thinkin’—”
“You was thinkin’ you finally ready to take me up on that offer I made you awhile back, right?” Dolla Dolla snickered, blowing a stream of smoke out the side of his mouth. “I was wondering how long you was gonna take to make up your mind! You better not have made my ass wait too much longer or you were about to hear about it.”
“What offer?” Ricky asked, confused.
“What the hell you mean, ‘What offer?’ To start my real estate business, nigga! I told you I needed a CEO to front it. I need a dude with class to handle that shit . . . a smooth nigga like you who I can trust.”
Ricky shook his head. “Dolla, I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can! And you’ll get a mil a year to do it, with a half mil up front, like one of those . . . whatchamacallit . . . a signin’ bonus or some shit. I worked it out with my partners. That’s what we gonna pay you.”
Ricky stared at him, dumbfounded. “You . . . you serious?”
