Brayland sat back down on the piano stool. That time he faced Ahli. He chuckled at the determined look on her face; and, the way her forehead was wrinkled, he knew it might be in his best interest to answer her questions. “Has anybody ever told you how cute you are when you’re mad?”
“Boy, don’t you even try it!” Ahli said, clenching her teeth so that she wouldn’t smile. “Now spill.”
“My grandmother,” Brayland finally admitted. He smiled thinking of the old woman who had raised him from a boy to a man. “After my mother left my dad and me, I would go to her house after school. She kind of forced the piano on me at first, telling me that one day I would thank her for teaching me how to use my fingers so graciously.” He paused and chuckled. “My mom wasn’t shit, but my granny? She was determined to give me a good life. She ain’t want the streets to take hold of me so she kept me in the house and taught me how to play every instrument she knew how to.”
“She seems like a pretty stand-up woman. How did you end up in the streets?”
“She died,” Brayland said, staring at the palms of his hands. “When I was sixteen. And my dad passed not too long after that. It was unexpected and she never had the chance to put her estate in my name and not my mom’s. That cheating ho sold all my granny’s shit, including the house and the cars. Left me on the streets while she lived like a queen in some white man’s palace. So I had to do what I had to do.”
“Brayland, I’m so sorry,” Ahli said, not knowing what else to say. She understood then why he didn’t have any issue with relocating to Nebraska. There was nothing in Miami for him, nothing good anyway.
“What you sayin’ sorry for?” Brayland looked deeply in her eyes. “It ain’t your fault. It’s just life. This game ain’t as pretty as these pictures you got on your wall.”
It was Ahli’s turn to look at her palms. She just nodded, not knowing what to say but still not ready for him to leave yet. She tried with all of her might to think of another question to ask him, but failed.
“How did you learn how to sing? All the dust on this piano and the fact that it needs tuning lets me know you probably haven’t used it in a while.”
Well, that wasn’t what she wanted to talk about, but she had already dodged one of his questions already. “When I was little,” Ahli started, “like seven or eight, Rhonnie used to get these really bad nightmares. And I told my mom that I didn’t like to hear my little sister cry, so I asked her to teach me how to play her piano. That melody you just played is the melody she taught me. So every night, until Rhonnie stopped having nightmares, I would put her to sleep in our old living room on the couch. I would make up a different song every night, and it worked like a charm every time.”
“I can tell that you really love your sister.” Brayland nodded. “And even though she talks a lot of shit I know she loves you too.”
“Yeah,” Ahli said and blinked away the tears in her eyes. “When our mom died we went through pretty hard times. Our father had been in some pretty big trouble with the law for a few things so he couldn’t provide for us the way he used to. He didn’t have access to any of her money. Thousands and thousands of dollars, just gone. For a while I had to be the woman of the house.”
Brayland felt like he was scratching the surface and he didn’t want her to stop talking. He wanted to know everything about her that she would be willing to tell. “How did you get into doing what you’re doing now?”
“Remember when I told you that my dad had been in trouble with the law?” Brayland nodded. “Well, it wasn’t any petty crimes. My father was once one of the most wanted burglars in Chicago. He used to hit high security banks and houses, empty them dry, and leave without a trace. He went to prison for it, but didn’t have to serve his full sentence because the witness suddenly didn’t know exactly what happened. When he came home my mother handled all the bills. We were able to still live nicely, but when she died we were equivalent to beggars. We had to eat somehow so my daddy taught Rhonnie and me everything he knew about high-profile robbery.”
“Robbery? How did you end up in Miami sellin’ drugs then?”
“My daddy’s friend, Lance, always sets up our hits. He sent us to a house where I guess the Last Kings had set up shop in the city. Rhonnie and I thought we were snatching money bags. Turned out to be cocaine.”
“Yo, y’all really robbed the Last Kings?”
“Yeah,” Ahli said, confused by the incredulous look on his face. “Why did you say it like that?”
“Because.” Brayland shook his head still in shock. “Just know you a cold piece for that shit.”
“It wasn’t harder than any of our other hits. They need to tighten up their security. Anyways, that’s the shortened version of how we got to where we are now.”
“One more question.”
“Shoot?”
“What’s Ma’s name?”
“Rhebecca.” Ahli sighed. “But lately it’s starting to feel like that’s all I know about her.”
Her facial expression grew distant. Brayland sensed that he had touched a sensitive spot and once again he backed off. He awkwardly rubbed his hands on the legs of his white-washed jeans and glanced down at his white and red Air Max 90s.
“I think I’m gonna dip out and grab a bite to eat,” he finally said. “Plus, I appreciate Q letting me crash at y’all spot and all, but it’s time for me to find a place of my own to lay my head.”
He stood to leave and made his way back to the front door. His palm had just wrapped around the knob when he heard Ahli call his name.
“Brayland!” Ahli said again, hoping he hadn’t left just yet.
“What’s up, Lee?” Brayland said, stepping back into the living room area. He checked his pockets and looked to where he had been sitting. “Did I leave something?”
“No. I just have one more question. How many times have you followed me here?”
“Like four or five,” he answered honestly.
“Well, why’d you come in today?”
After a few moments of looking into each other’s eyes Brayland finally just licked his lips and smiled to himself. “You’re the coldest girl I’ve ever met in my life, Ahli,” he said, his baritone voice low. “I like to listen to you speak even if we ain’t really talking about shit. You’re like one of them mysteries in them white people shows and I just want to crack you. You ain’t scared to do what you gotta do to survive; you ain’t scared to shoot a pistol. But I done been around bitches like that before, and you’re just different. You’re deep. I can tell that by just being in this one room, and I like that about you.”
“That sounds like a bunch of game.” Ahli stood up and tried to walk around Brayland to show him back to the door.
“I don’t sing for just anybody,” Brayland said, stopping her in her tracks and bringing her in front of him.
“You were singing about love. You don’t love me, Brayland,” Ahli whispered up at him. “Plus, this is a new place for you. New women, new pussy.”
“But I could love you. I already know that I like you,” he responded smoothly and moved a loose curl from her face. “And I don’t know none of these bitches here. I’ve been too busy watching you. And wanting your pussy.”
He couldn’t help himself. He placed his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He then placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, but when he tried to kiss the tip of her nose she grabbed the back of his head, forcing their soft lips to meet. The two shared a powerful kiss, neither one wanting to come up for air.
Ahli forgot all about her ex, what’s his name, because in that moment it was all about how good Brayland was making her feel. His hands rummaged her body like she was a lost and found and he was looking for his possessions. He unzipped her jacket and tried to lift her cami over her head. She shook her head and looked into his eyes. “Rip it. The bra, too.”
Her demanding stature along with the sexiness of her voice made his thick shaft stand at full attention. He did what he was told
and when he saw her breasts jiggle he almost did the same to her shorts and panties. Tossing the ripped clothing to the side he knelt his head down to taste her nipples, something he often wished he could do. Now he was doing it and they tasted better than he could have ever imagined.
“Mmmm, Brayland,” Ahli moaned into the air and tried to slip her hand into her pants. His tongue felt so good and her throbbing clit was begging to be touched.
“Hell nah.” Brayland grabbed her hand and threw it back. “This all me right now. You ain’t even gotta do all that.”
Ahli bit her lip and took a step back, giving him the perfect view of her perky nipples. “Mmm,” she said, sucking her teeth. “Is that right?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer; instead, she started to walk slowly toward the master bedroom. When she was halfway there she glanced over her shoulder and into his lustful eyes. There was something about him that made her want every inch of him, literally. The way he had kissed her had her feeling something deep in the pit of her stomach and she didn’t want the feeling to go away. Forget making love; she was going to let him hit it however he wanted. She needed it. She slowly bent over, while pulling her shorts and panties down to the ground, and never broke eye contact with him.
“Damn, girl,” he said when he was staring at a perfectly round ass. He cocked his head so that he could see her fat pussy lips smiling at him.
She giggled, standing back up and kicking the clothes off of her feet. She rubbed her breasts and switched the rest of the way to the room, making her cheeks jiggle more than usual. When Brayland finally entered the room he saw that she’d already assumed the first position. Face down, ass up.
“Like that?” he asked and took his shirt off, revealing his completely tattooed chest and muscular torso. “A’ight. Just know you can’t get rid of me after this.” He kicked his own shoes off and dropped his pants.
“Who said I would want t . . . Ahhh!”
Her words got lost in translation when Brayland swiftly gripped her lower back and entered her with a powerful stroke from behind. “You what?” Brayland asked and thrust again.
Every sensation had awakened in Ahli’s body and she buried her face in her pillows. Brayland began to give it to her so good from behind that her toes curled and she forgot what his real name was. Right then he was simply “daddy.” He was telling the truth when he said that this was “all him.” The only sounds that could be heard were her pleasured screams of submission.
“Who you giving this pussy to, Ahli?” Brayland asked with his face twisted up in pleasure. The sight of his shaft slipping in and out of her curvy body was enough to drive him crazy. She was so beautiful and the sweat dripping from her body, the wet smacks coming from her love box, and every sound escaping her mouth let him know he was getting the job done. A job he knew now that he could never let another man have. “I said who you fucking, Ahli?”
“Nobody,” Ahli whined into the pillow. “Nobody, daddy. Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t if you promise me this is mine. This my pussy, girl?”
“Yesssss! Oh my God. Yes!”
Ahli’s body quivered violently and Brayland couldn’t hold his nut any longer either. He pulled out and released himself all over her spine. The two climaxed in unison and collapsed on the bed in each other’s arms. Ahli looked into Brayland’s handsome face in wonder, letting her fingers glide over his sweaty forehead.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Brayland said.
“Yes, it was.” Ahli smiled. “If not now, someday.”
The two shared another deep kiss, only to be cut short by the sound of Ahli’s phone vibrating from the kitchen.
“I gotta go get that,” she said and got up on shaky legs. “It might be Rhonnie.”
She knew how ridiculous she looked trying to walk to get to her phone, and she swore she heard a snicker. Smiling like a schoolgirl she was finally able to make it to where she’d left her phone on her dining room table. She moved the shopping bags out of the way and saw her father’s contact on the screen.
“Shit,” she said to herself and tried to clear her throat. “Hello?”
“I need you back home ASAP.”
“What’s going on, Da . . .” She stopped, realizing she had just called another man that less than ten minutes ago. She cleared her throat again and finished. “Umm, what’s going on, Dad?”
“Just get here. Rhonnie is already here. We’re just waiting on you. I tried to call Brayland; if you talk to him tell him to come too.” The tone of his voice let her know that whatever it was had to be serious.
“Okay. I’ll be there in half an hour.” She disconnected the call and walked back to her room.
“That was my dad. We gotta go,” she said to Brayland who looked like he was on the verge of going to sleep. “Business as usual.”
* * *
It had been almost a month since the episode in Miami and Rhonnie had healed up quite nicely from being shot. Quinton never said it, but that was one of the most petrifying moments of his life. Losing Rhebecca after everything they’d been through was already hard, but losing his baby girl would have ripped him to shreds. He thought that things would go back to normal after, but Rhonnie had been noticeably distant from everyone. She wasn’t her usual feisty self and was seemingly nonchalant about everything.
Quinton understood. Nothing about the Miami trip had gone as planned. He thought they would all be sitting with $50,000 more each in their bank accounts, but that was not the case at all. Brayland had changed that, although Quinton was not complaining. The boy had saved all of their lives, after all. For that, Quinton saw it fit to split the earnings evenly across the board. He knew that with what Brayland had done, there was no way that he could reside in Miami safely anymore. There would for sure be a price on his head and Quinton figured the least he could do was offer the boy a fresh start. Nebraska wasn’t Miami but Quinton was positive that Omaha would give the kid as much of the city life as he needed.
Now, though, Quinton was facing a dilemma. This last job was supposed to put him and the girls in the position to live seemingly normal lives. He felt like a selfish man for continuously putting his daughters in the line of fire, but with all of their cuts shortened he knew he couldn’t be done just yet. That was the only reason he ended up answering Lance’s phone call.
“What’s going on, Lance?” Quinton answered his cell phone dryly. He sat on the balcony that was connected to his bedroom, puffing a Cuban cigar. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts, a tan bucket hat, and a pair of sunglasses, letting his muscles brandish in the sunlight. His bedroom faced the back of the house, and the view was a calming one. Every house in the neighborhood had something special about it; one even had a small pond. His eyes fell on the golf course in the distance and he waited for Lance to answer.
“Nothing much, man,” Lance responded in a rushed tone. “Just tryin’a see how you’re living. I heard about what happened down in Miami. Bruh, I swear on my mother that if I knew that nigga was on foul play like that I would have never sent you.”
Quinton listened to his boy speak, trying to find the sincerity in his voice. “Aw, yeah?” Quinton ashed the cigar in the ashtray on the small, round table beside him. “How’d you hear about Miami?”
“Nigga, everybody knows about Miami. Dot called me a little bit after it happened trying to get information about you and the girls.”
“What did you tell him?”
“What do you mean what did I tell him?” Lance sounded genuinely insulted. “I told that nigga this was my first time working with y’all too. And that I ain’t have too much information on you. I also told that nigga if he wasn’t on that snake shit none of this would have happened and his mans would still be breathing.”
Quinton wanted to be angry with Lance, but he knew he couldn’t. Lance had trusted the game just like he had done and they both knew that was a big mistake. The game changed every day, and integrity wasn’t one of its finest
lessons anymore. After a few moments of silence Quinton finally sighed into the phone. “Everything is everything, my man. I can’t fault you for another man’s greed.”
“That’s love. How is Rhonnie? I heard she got clipped by one of Dot’s shooters.”
“She’s good now.” Quinton raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know it was her who got hit?”
“What I’ve learned about those girls of yours is that Ahli is the brains and Rhonnie is the brawn. If anybody got shot, it would be her. ”
The two men shared a laugh because they both knew how true the statement was. Quinton stopped laughing abruptly and looked at the cigar burning slowly between his fingers.
“That was the scariest moment of my life, man. At least with Rhebecca I knew it was coming. That’s my baby girl. If anything ever happened to her, I’d—”
“I’m already knowing, big homie, trust.”
“Shit got me thinking about leaving this shit alone, you feel me? I got the house and the cars but . . .”
“But what?”
“There’s still something I need to do. And I still need a couple more zeros in my bank account.”
“I’m glad you just said that, man.” Lance paused to cough. “I got the package you sent me and I understand why it was shorter than what we discussed, given the bad deal and all. But that still doesn’t make up for the fact that it was short. I got a family to feed too, you feel me? Tiffany is going off to college and this shit is hitting my pockets something crucial.”
“So what you saying?”
“I got the plug on a job not too far from you in Coralville, Iowa. A five million dollar house and the councilman who owns it is taking his family out of town this upcoming weekend. Inside scoop is he only keeps half of his riches in the bank; the other half is inside of a vault in his cellar.”
“How much we talking?”
“Seven hundred thousand. Maybe more.”
Deep Page 9
