Nobody Can Love You Like Them Roughnecks Do 2

by Shvonne Latrice

  Will

  For the past few days, I couldn’t even function properly. The thought of having a baby with Nichole didn’t bother me in itself. It was the fact that I might lose Priscilla. I had no issues with being a father, and I admit I would prefer it to not be Nichole, but it was what it was.

  This may have sounded fucked up, but I was praying it was Ian’s or even Belly’s. Yeah, he was the homie, but better him than me. Majority of my money went to prostitutes, and the thought of having to split that shit for a child made my chest hurt. I’d budgeted for hoes and everything, saw it as a monthly expense, and I didn’t want to now factor in a child. Belly was traveling a lot more, meaning more hoes for me, so I was spending more money on them than usual.

  Not to mention, a baby didn’t go to well with my lifestyle at the moment. I was still trying to get it together enough to meet Priscilla’s kids, let alone have my own. Plus, I knew Nichole would have my ass in court, and California gave no fucks when it came to child support. They’d take yo’ whole damn check on top of yo’ house.

  My phone buzzed as I edited one of the recent photos I’d taken.

  Priscilla: Thank you for the roses baby! Are we still on for dinner tonight? And are you okay?

  I’d been up the past two nights fucking Swan and then Carrie, because Swan had another date with that nigga. By saying that, I’d been a bit standoffish with Priscilla. I couldn’t face her just yet, and I needed my fix to get me through this, not her. I loved being with Priscilla, but sex was still an issue. I could only role play here and there, and other nights, I had to use a strap on. It was exhausting and much less fluid than when I fucked women at brothels.

  Me: We are and I’m great baby.

  At the end of the day, I missed her company, so I did want to see her. I liked her, a lot, and could see myself being with her forever. If she were a working girl, we’d be in perfect harmony, on God.

  As I let my head rock back, I heard the buzzer to the front door of my studio. I checked my watch. I don’t know why though, because I wasn’t expecting any clients. I peered around the corner after leaving my editing room, and spotted what looked like Geena, the madame at the brothel I frequented; well, used to before I convinced Swan and Carrie to fuck with me exclusively on the outside.

  Shit was way more expensive, because I was paying for them both to live in hotel suites, but it was worth it. I definitely had the funds, and even more now that Belly had come way up.

  “Geena, what’s up? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you… in the day time.” My last four words trailed off because she barged in, bumping me on the way. “You goo—”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “Huh?”

  “I know what you did with Carrie and Swan! You took them from me, making me lose money!”

  “You got twenty other bitches!”

  “I don’t care how many I have! Those are my girls! They are not living with me simply because I want money. I protect them! You seen them a few times a week, and then the other days they’re on their own, and God knows what could happen to them!”

  “You’re just mad because you’re losing that cut.” I shrugged, chuckling. “Carrie and Swan are good now.”

  “You’re fucking with the wrong one, Will.” She glared up at me before leaving out.

  I just shook my head at her crazy ass and got back to work. I had enough problems, so she could go fly a kite.

  The next morning…

  I woke up on my couch, feeling like shit. Last night after I took Priscilla to dinner, I feigned a headache then dropped her back at home. I knew if I brought her here, we’d end up ‘fucking’, and I wasn’t in the mood. That damn strap-on was about to have me throwing my fucking back out. And I was running out of excuses as to why I wouldn’t let her suck my dick unless we did role-play.

  I heard my phone chiming, so I looked for it after grabbing my AP from the end table to check the time. I’d gotten pissy drunk last night, so I knew I’d been sleep well past morning. I was right since it was 2 p.m.

  Grabbing my phone, I saw it was blown up more than usual with texts, calls, DMs, and everything on top of my usual emails and messages from clients. Instagram had the most notifications, so I tapped that one first. Someone had sent me the link to a gossip blog article, and when I clicked it, my jaw dropped right into my muthafuckin’ lap at the sight of the headline reading, Celebrity Photographer Will Dade Into Prostitutes?

  It was accompanied by multiple pictures and screenshots of video I didn’t even know were taken. Of course you couldn’t make out the girl’s faces, but mine was clear as day.

  My fucking life was about to go up in flames.

  Blaise

  Same time… different setting… Manhattan Beach, CA to be exact…

  “Do you think I’m immature?” Izzy asked as she sat across from me. We were out to lunch. She’d been trying to see me for a while, but because I was off her hoe of a sister, I’d been ignoring her. I felt bad though, so I agreed to see her.

  “Not immature, but you do seem younger than you are.”

  Izzy nodded, stabbing her food as she just stared at it.

  “What can I do to seem more mature? Or act my age, like you?”

  “Maybe find yourself. You can start by figuring out what you enjoy doing, and then see if you can make money off of that. It will give you some independence and keep you focused.”

  “Hmm. Okay, I’ll try that. Nichole says I’m immature and basically that she’s embarrassed of me.”

  “She’s just jealous.”

  “Nichole? Of me? No, she looks way better, and guys love her.”

  Izzy was beautiful, had a nice body, and could dress well. It was just her state of mind was a bit behind her age group. I was like her at the age of seventeen. That’s not good per se, since I was grown for my age, but still.

  “Trust me, she’s jealous. She may be your sister, but I know her very well.” I drank some of my water. “And when I get done helping you see your potential, you’ll start to recognize the envy.”

  “Well hello, ladies.” I heard a man that sounded a lot like Romelo.

  “Oh my gosh! Romelo Charis!” Izzy freaked out, making me laugh. I gave her a look, so she calmed down immediately.

  “Nice to meet you too, beautiful. What’s your name?”

  “Izzy, or Isabella. I like both.”

  “Pretty name and a face to match.” Romelo smirked down at her, making Izzy look flushed.

  “Rome, we’re eating and would like to continue, so have a good day.” I waved him off.

  “Someone’s jealous.” He snickered, making me laugh.

  “Please, God, no. If I wanted you, I could have had you. I got who I want, remember that.”

  “Oh!” He acted as if he’d just remembered something. “Funny you mention that. I finally figured out why you chose him over me. You almost killed my self-esteem making me think he was better than me in some way, but now I know.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPhone.

  A few moments later, after pulling up what he needed, he showed me the screen. I rolled my eyes before looking, and my heart rate sped up. A gossip blog had posted a picture of Belly and I, with a large headline stating that I was allegedly pregnant. Like always, they claimed a source close to me gave the scoop.

  “Lies.” I shook my head and went back to eating.

  “I don’t know. I mean, you have been ill more than usual while on set.”

  “Yeah, because I haven’t been eating right, and when I don’t eat right, I get sick. My body is used to healthy foods and nothing else.”

  “Hmm.” Romelo stared down at me. “Okay, just making sure, because I would hate to have to get a new co-star because you got knocked up.”

  “Goodbye.”

  “Those blogs lie so much,” Izzy chimed in once Romelo was gone.

  “I know.” I got up. “Take a picture of me to post on Instagram so I can dispel those rumors.”

&nb
sp; I handed Izzy my phone and posed for a picture, making sure my flat stomach was visible. My stomach wasn’t as toned anymore, but a quick suck in was all that was needed at this point. Plus, I’d been stocking up on old photos to post once I did start to show a lot.

  I wasn’t embarrassed or anything of my pregnancy; it’s just I wanted it to be stress free. When I got pregnant with Island, I was miserable, and my doctor had told me on several occasions that my stress levels were high and unhealthy for the baby. Therefore, I wanted to keep this under wraps for as long as possible.

  After posting the picture, I went to see the blog post on my own phone. I read the caption under, and when I saw the line Belly allegedly is also the father of model Nichole Carriage’s unborn child… anger consumed me.

  Nichole was such a fucking lying mess. I shook my head at her commenting that she wasn’t pregnant, because I knew she was probably behind that specific line mentioning her. The comments were already dragging me, saying I was stupid for getting pregnant by the same type of man as Five-Star and how Belly was most likely cheating.

  Once I found Nichole’s ass, I was going to kill her.

  Belly

  About an hour later…

  Currently, I was doing a signing, just to meet with fans and promote this upcoming fight with Mason Strauss. The shit was a big deal, and I was ready to knock him the fuck out.

  The nigga sent Blaise jewelry and shit to fuck with me, and I knew what he expected and what he wanted. He thought I was gon’ roll up, beat his ass, and get disqualified, meaning I wouldn’t be able to take his title. But nah, I played it cool, as badly as I didn’t want to. I thought of having someone else fuck him up, but I wanted him myself. Beating his ass in that ring and taking his belt would be the ultimate revenge for me, so I fell back from the hood shit for now.

  My phone buzzed as I went to sit behind the desk I would be signing shit on. I saw it was Blaise and let out a sigh of relief. Megyn and the rest of them bitches had been on me, and I was two seconds from inviting all them hoes to one place then doing a drive-by shooting. But I’d been too busy lately with boxing and then my girl. And they hadn’t done no stupid shit, only texting and calling, so it was no big deal. However, once this fight was over, it was a wrap for them hoes.

  Wife: I’m so pissed. I’m crying. I want to kill her.

  Me: Baby chill. You gon’ catch her, hopefully before I do. I’m deleting yo’ incriminating ass messages.

  I chuckled, reading Blaise’s texts referring to Nichole. The latter’s stupid ass had recorded the shit between us in Atlanta, but of course, the blogs only had the screenshot photos of it looking like we were about to do some shit. I wish I had the actual video to show her parched ass getting sent on her way.

  Anyway, now them allegations about me being her baby daddy were appearing true. I ain’t give a fuck about what niggas thought, especially when I knew Nichole was a fucking lie, but I didn’t like that this shit was embarrassing my girl and pissing her off. For that, Nichole had better watch her fucking back, but after this fight. This was the one time I wish I didn’t have something so big coming up.

  “Alright, we’re about to start letting everyone in.” This white guy who was coordinating the signing let me know. This shit was low-key unprofessional, and I didn’t expect that considering my status, but I guess since this was a good area, people didn’t do much.

  “Aight.” I nodded.

  I had Ozzy on one side of me, Siggy on the other, and Will’s ass off to the left, taking photos. He was acting weird and extremely skittish. He kept asking ‘if I saw’, but I didn’t know what the fuck he was referring to. I didn’t too much pay attention to blogs and media gossip, unless someone brought it my attention, and I’d been too busy today to check messages and shit that weren’t from Blaise. I assumed he was referring to the mess Nichole had made though. I guess he really liked her sewer ass.

  People started coming in, and I began signing their shit. Some people had posters, others had boxing gloves, or just random shit they wanted signed. I had my Hood’s Champ merchandise off to the side, so I was grinning, seeing it was a line for that.

  “Belly, let me suck your dick! Please! I love you!” some girl shouted, making everyone, including me, die laughing.

  “What’s up, man? Who do I make this out to?” I grabbed the glove from a young black boy and put my marker to it.

  Whispering, he replied, “To Belly, from Mason.”

  “Huh?” I popped my head up just as he pulled a gun from his jacket, making the homies and a few people up here gasp.

  POP! POP! POP!

  Before I could do or say anything, I felt the bullets pierce me, and the power behind them pushed me back out of my chair. The last thing I remembered was people clamoring about and screaming my name, before I blacked out.

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