Olivier and I opted for fruit smoothies from Smoothie King over a heavy ass lunch from one of the many restaurants in Greenville. I had not been eating in the past week and didn’t know how my stomach would handle food. The last thing I wanted to do was shit my pants in front of the man I wanted to build a true romantic bond with.
Not having to sit for lunch afforded us the opportunity to walk around the mall, something I hadn’t done since before the twins were born.
“I cannot wait for Harmony to open this; his birthday is this Saturday.” Said Olivier hugging the hell out of the expensive ass acoustic bass guitar he had just purchased.
“Who is Harmony?” I asked
“Harmony is my other boyfriend. He is pretty much the anchor of our relationship. He’s a session musician and independent producer. He’s such a wonderful guy. I love him so much”
“Wow.” I said, trying not to sound jealous. I wanted Olivier
to speak all glowing and enthusiastically about me to people while having that look of someone who is madly in love with the person that he is talking about.
We had just exited the mall when I saw someone in the parking lot I had not expected to see. Takeisha! I had forgotten all about her, but I was glad she wasn’t missing. Our eyes met and she took off, not running, but in a hellafied power walk to get to her car. I ran to catch up with her, leaving Olivier looking confused.
“Takeisha!” I yelled managing to get in front of her “What’s going on; Breon thinks you’re missing.”
“Quamie, I’ve gotta go,” She said frantically looking around “Don’t tell anybody you’ve seen me.”
“But your child thinks you’re missing, he’s worried_____”
“Miss Fendi won’t let nothing happen to my baby, but I gotta get away, please move Quamie, cause I need to get out of here; I think I am being followed.”
“Takeisha, you sound paranoid. If you need help, let me help you. Let me call Breon_____”
“No! That nigga is not who you think he is. That is not your cousin, Quamie!”
I thought a bumble bee had whizzed by my ear, until I saw Takeisha’s forehead explode in front of me, then heard the sound of the shot. I will never forget that I didn’t hear the sound before I saw the bullet hit. It was the second time in my life that I saw someone get shot in the head right in front of me.
“What the fuck?!” I heard Olivier scream, running in vain to try and render assistance to Takeisha.
My head felt light, and it seemed as if everything around me was spinning. I tried to speak but could not. I heard Olivier call my name, I tried, but failed to answer him, then everything went black.
Chris
Chris felt as if his head and stomach were going to explode. He had been sweating profusely for over 24 hours. For the umpteen time that day, he had refused Vashti’s plea to allow her to call an ambulance for him. Chris always had to learn the hard way, and he believed that if he didn’t experience every bit of the pain, fear, and agony of detox and withdrawal, he would easily return to alcoholism. Look at how many addicts spend months in cushy rehabilitation centers only to come out and immediately start using again. Chris knew that he was in the fight of his life, not only with the bottle, but with the demons that had been on him since he was a teenager …
… “Thank you so much for this new game, Jerod. Daddy was going to get it for me when he got paid on Friday.”
“Yeah, but Friday is a whole nother week away, and I know you don’t want to wait, especially since Quamie already has it.”
“I could go over and play his, but it’s cool having my own.”
“Of course it is.”
“Speaking of Quamie, he …we…umm…”
“What did y’all lil knuckle heads do?”
“We did it. We fucked.”
“What; when?”
“Last Sunday at my house, while my parents were at church. We were watching that Raw Rods DVD that you gave us, and it just happened.”
“Damn, y’all niggas starting early, I was 19 and Cooley was almost 21 before we did anything. So, how long have y’all been hittin’ bitches?”
“We both have kissed a girl, and felt one up, but as far as sex, our first time was with each other.”
“Oh, hell no! Nigga, are y’all two faggots, because I ain’t cool with faggots!”
“Fuck that, nigga, I ain’t gay, and Quamie ain’t either!”
“But y’all niggas fucked each other before either of you ever fucked a bitch. You two niggas better get some pussy soon and fucken like it. Matter of fact, gimmie back my Goddamn game!
“Jerod___”
“Stop that crying shit before I punch your ass in the chest. How you out here acting like a JIT . but ain’t never had no pussy and lost your V card to another boy?! Fuck that shit, stand the fuck up and put your hands behind your back. Chin up, chest out!”
“Jerod__”
“Chin up, chest out mother fucker!”
“Ouch!”
“Stand the fuck back up, double over again and I’ma give you a two piece. If you can take dick, you can take these punches. Now, stand the fuck up because you got two more.”
“Ouch! Jerod…I’m sorry!”
“I’ma take it easy on your little butter scotch bitch ass and not hit you with this third one. Get the fuck out of my sight!”
“Aren’t you going to take me home?”
“Nigga, I just showed you mercy. Walk those little six blocks, nah, run those mother fuckers. I’m going to make a man out of your ass, because I ain’t rolling with no faggot ass punks. Now go!”
“Yes, Jerod. I am sorry. Ima get right…
… “I’m in love with you, Quamie,” Chris whispered in the ear of his sleeping cousin. In a few hours he and Vashti, the mother of his two-year-old son, were going to be married, but all Chris could think about was how in a perfect world he and Quamie would be together. At nineteen years old, they were no longer the sexually curious young boys trying to emulate scenes from a porn video. In five years, they had become very adept in the art of pleasing one another.
Chris did not consider himself gay in spite of engaging in same sex activities with Jerod, Cooley, Quamie, and recently, Jabari. That was just freaky shit, at least with Jerod, Cooley, and Jabari it was. With Quamie things were much more complicated. Chris NEVER had and NEVER would have the feelings that he had for Quamie for any other male. Chris openly despised gay men, especially effeminate ones. Chris was attracted to women, mainly short, mouthy, aggressive ones like his soon to be wife, Vashti. Yet he was in love with Quamie.
Chris planted a feathery kiss on Quamie’s plump, sensuous lips. His hands roamed Quamie’s naked, sleeping body. As soon as Chris’ s hand touched Quamie’s cock, Quamie’s eyelids began to flutter. His eyes were wide open when Chris took him in his mouth.
“Damn Chris,” Moaned Quamie “Is this my thank you for being your best man?”
“No, this is.” Said Chris mounting Quamie’s stiff manhood.
“Goddamn!” Quamie closed his eyes and gripped the sheets in elation. The times he had been allowed to fuck Chris were few and far between.
Chris rode Quamie with desperation, hoping that every gyration and grip conveyed his innermost desires. Casting aside everything that Jerod had told him, Chris leaned in and kissed Quamie, forcefully inserting his tongue inside of Quamie’s mouth. Quamie rolled Chris over onto his back. It had been three years since the two had indulged in a forbidden French kiss. Chris wrapped his legs around Quamie’s waist. The thrusting cock and ravenous tongue of the man he loved had Chris on the verge of teleportation.
“Come inside me,” He ordered when he felt Quamie’s climax building, “I want every drop of it.”
Quamie obliged. Chris clung to him tightly, long after their orgasms.
“Nigga, I love you so much, Quamie. I swear to God on my son’s life I will kill somebody before I let go of this” …
… “Tell me again what the fuck he said, Jabari!”
“Breon told me that Jerod molested him.”
“He actually used that word; he really put that shit on Jerod’s name?”
“Yes.”
“Your weird ass better not be lying!”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
“That mother fucker!! He’s not going to ruin everybody’s shit because his bitch ass wants attention.”
“Yo Chris, Yo Chris, maybe, maybe you guys can talk to him and get him to understand.”
“He fucken better because that nigga is fucken dead if he doesn’t. I will kill his bitch ass my Goddamn self!” …
… Chris could not stop shivering, even though it was an April night well above 70 degrees. Once the orgy was over, reality set in hard for him. He had killed his own cousin, shot him in the head like a rabid dog. He tried not to look at Breon’s Mustang that Cooley had driven and parked inside of the garage of Chris’s auto shop.
“You have got to get it together.” Said Cooley. “We have a lot of work ahead of us tonight. Unc should be here to help___”
“Why did you call him?”
“Because I don’t want to fuck anything up and I know he will make sure that everything is handled correctly.”
“Your ass should have been with me at the Friars Club charity auction!” said Unc, his Stacy Adams clad feet stomping angrily across the garage. “I have worked hard to open too many doors for you to wind up entangled in shit like this. This is shit!” Unc pointed directly at Chris.
“Come on Unc. You don’t even know why he did it.” Pleaded Cooley
“Why did your stupid ass do it?”
“He said that Jerod molested him.” Explained Chris
“Where the fuck is the lie?! Jerod was a reprobate piece of shit capable of anything.”
“Don’t talk about Jerod like that!”
Chris’s left ear rang from Unc’s stiff, sudden slap.
“I said he was a reprobate piece of shit, now what the fuck you gonna do about it? Just because you liked him playing in your ass doesn’t mean anyone else had to like it.”
Tears welled up in Chris’s eyes. His fists clenched and unclenched several times. He wanted so badly to hit the older man that stood before him, but he knew he would have only been further humiliated by having his ass kicked by a man who was more than twice his age.
“All of this shit is your fault. You did that shit at Quamie’s shop. Quamie, who you’re so ride or die with, but you risked him losing everything. You risked Cooley losing everything. Hell, even your stupid ass risked losing what you have to defend the name of a down low faggot ass mother fucker that turned you out before you could even properly navigate your way around a pussy.”
“You don’t understand; he could have fucked it up for all of us.” Chris protested
“Oh, you are a dumb ass for real,” Unc rolled his eyes in frustration “Take off you damn clothes.”
“Unc, no!” Said Cooley
“Take off your mother fucken clothes, Chris, and I better not have to say that shit a third time.”
Chris obeyed. Though Cooley had seen him fully nude several times, Chris felt uncomfortable standing naked before Cooley and Unc.
“Nice body, nice face, decent package, but dumb as a bucket of rocks.” Said Unc. Without warning he punched Chris hard in the stomach. Instinctively, Chris doubled over in pain. In his fight to keep himself from throwing up, Chris had not noticed that Unc had moved directly behind him. His mind did not register the sound of the zipper.
“Ouch!” He screamed as Unc savagely rammed inside of him.
“Shut the fuck up!” Ordered Unc raining slaps and rabbit punches down on the back of Chris’s head and neck.
Cooley stood frozen in horror. He had earned the name of Cooley the Voyeur among the circle because he often preferred to watch rather than participate, but this was not something that he wanted to see.
“Buck breaking.” Siad Unc calmly, his voice a stark contrast to his violent thrusting. “Back during slavery, there was always a stupid, hardheaded nigger that stayed doing stupid shit, so master would buck break him. Ram dick up his stupid nigger ass in front of all the other slaves to get him to behave. To get the stupid nigger to see that this white man, his master, could do what the fuck ever he wanted to do to him and won’t a single nother nigger going to do shit to help him. This is a stupid nigger that stays doing stupid shit because nobody has ever instilled any discipline in him.”
Thoroughly disgusted, Unc shoved Chris down onto the garage floor and shot his load all over Chris’s back and buttocks. To add insult to injury, Unc urinated on Chris.
Cooley wanted to sink through the floor with secondhand embarrassment. Chris did not deserve that.
“I am going out to my car and smoke this L to calm my nerves.” Said Unc “When I come back, we will take care of this situation that you allowed this piece of shit to get you into.”
“I am so sorry.” Said Cooley helping Chris to his feet. “Please forgive me, I would not have called him here if I thought for a minute that he would … He’s never done that before… I am sorry, Chris.”
Standing at the sink in the back of the garage, Cooley cleaned Chris’s backside with towels.
“We’re going to get through this,” Said Cooley
“Please,” Said Chris hoarsely, “Please don’t ever tell Quamie about this. If he ever found out about this, he won’t want me anymore. Cooley, I will die if he ever stops wanting me.”
Cooley blinked several times as his mind tried to register what Chris had just said to him; moreover, what he had not said to him. There was no indication that Chris was worried he would lose his wife and two children, but he would die if Quamie no longer wanted him! Dear God, what Jerod had told Cooley before his passing was true. Chris and Quamie’s relationship went beyond the scope of the Circle of Amor; the two of them were lovers…
…Chris was numb and offered no protest when Unc placed the chainsaw in his hands. Cooley argued that it was unnecessary, but Unc was determined that Chris needed the experience, so that he would know to think twice before he did something that stupid again.
With Breon laid out on the black canvas tarp, Chris saw for the first time the damage he had done. The entire left side of Breon’s head was gone. Though he dared not say so out loud, Chris struggled to accept that his actions were unjustified. Jerod had been dead for six months and did not deserve to have the label of child molester or pedophile slapped on his name. Armed with self-righteous indignation that what he had done was for the greater good, Chris started the chainsaw…
… It had been nearly a week since Chris had had a drink of alcohol, the longest he had gone in three years. He was in pain from head to foot. As much as he appreciated Vashti for cleaning him, attempting to feed him, anointing him with oil, and praying over him, Chris wished that she would just leave him alone until he was better. She deserved so much more than what she had chosen to put up with.
Five years ago, Vashti learned the ugly, gut bucket truth about her husband and chose to remain with him for the greater benefit of keeping their family together. Chris selfishly and foolishly only saw it as a weight off of his shoulders to not have to lie to her about the nature of his relationship with Quamie.
Chris saw them walk into the room. Cooley wore fitted, grey glen plaid slacks with a matching vest and mint green dress shirt. Jerod wore a tan three-piece suit, and light blue dress shirt. Their black Stacy Adams were as polished and glossy as their expertly manicured fingernails.
Chris wished that they had worn neck ties. Two dead men walked into his room and Chris was only concerned that they were not wearing ties. Cooley sat on the right side of the bed and Jerod sat on the left. Chris could distinctly smell the scent of Amber White on Cooley and Drakar Noir on Jerod. He could have easily touched them, and they could have certainly touched him, but Chris was not afraid.
“When did I die?” Asked Chris
“Nigga, your ass has been dead on the inside for years,” Said Jerod, “But you’re still alive.”
“Why are you here then?”
“To make sure that you don’t die,” Said Cooley “You are too important to your family___”
“Man, fuck coddling this spoiled ass nigga, that’s been his whole fucken problem. I tried to toughen you ass up when I was alive, but you are bitch made and that’s why you’ve been more concerned with sucking on a liquor bottle and sucking Quamie’s dick than taking care of your family.
“I’m trying to get better”
“You hear that shit, Cooley; he’s trying to get better.”
“You have to do more than try,” said Cooley, “You don’t have too much more of this bullshit before Vashti takes the kids and leave your ass for good.”
“And Quamie ain’t gonna be the cushion for you to fall back on.”
“I am going to get better! I am going to keep my family!”
Were they laughing at him? Did they doubt him?
“I Am Going To Save My Family Goddamnit!” Chris screamed to the top of his lungs.
Jerod and Cooley were gone, but the scent of their fragrances lingered in the air, removing any trace of doubt from Chris’s mind that his cousins’ visitation had been real.
Chapter Ten
I woke up in a hospital bed with my head fucken throbbing. Confused as hell as to why I was there, I tried to get out of bed,
“Don’t,” Said Olivier gently keeping me from sitting up. “You have a concussion. The back of your head hit the asphalt when you fainted.”
“I fainted; what happened?”
“You really don’t remember?”
That question made the most horrific image flash in my mind. I was talking to Takeisha, trying to make sense of who and what she was hiding from, when a bullet split her head open right in front of me.
“Oh my God,” I tried in vain to blink the image out of my aching head. “Poor Takeisha.”
“I did what I could for her, but she did not make it. I could not get into your phone, so I called Cooley’s wife to tell her to contact your parents. I did not tell her about the murder because, she did not need to hear about that.”
“Thank you, Olivier.”
“My baby!” Shrieked Mama bursting into my room. She damn near knocked Olivier over in her rush to get to me and rain kisses all over my aching ass head.
“Ma, I’m alright.” I said embarrassed as hell. Normally, I would not have minded because I loved when my Mama babied me, but she was doing that shit in front of Olivier, who was doing his best not to point and laugh at me.
“You have to excuse my wife, young man. Gloria acts as if our son is still a baby and not a grown ass thirty-year-old man with two children of his own.” Said Daddy
“Be quiet, Man! Your behind was just as worried as me. You were speeding all the way up here to Greenville.”
“I was concerned with the well-being of my son; I wasn’t rushing here to powder his ass and change his diaper.”
Olivier could no longer hold his laugh.
“I am sorry,” He apologized “I have to go home, but I will be on call tonight, Quamie. Take it easy, you’re going to be here for a couple of days.”
“Oh, he is syrupy sweet.” Said Daddy once Olivier was out of the room.
“Dad, no he is not.” I protested. “Olivier is very masculine.” Which was true. Oliver’s masculinity was one of many reasons that I found him attractive.
“Ooh, is he your boyfriend?”
“No, Dad.”
“But you want him to be, don’t you?”
“Leave him alone and stop teasing him.” Said Mama, saving me from having to admit that yes, I wanted Olivier Watford to be my boyfriend, but he was not interested in adding a third nigga to his mini harem.
“Where are the twins?” I asked changing the subject
“Vashti is watching them.” Said Mama
“And we really need to get back and take them off of her hands,” Said Daddy, “She has a lot going on with Chris being sick and all.”
“Chris is sick?” I asked
“Your little Ying Yang Twin is going to be alright,” Assured Daddy “He’s just detoxing from alcohol.”
“I will call and check up on him later.” I said
“Don’t worry about him. He will be fine. Just get some rest,” Said Mama, “We will try to get back up here tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I said accepting her kiss on my forehead. “Oh, wait!” I said remembering Takeisha, “Takeisha is dead. I saw her get shot.”
“Oh, my Dear Sweet Jesus!” Exclaimed Mama “Fendi’s Grandbaby’s Mama?”
“What did you see; did you see who did it?” Asked Daddy
“No, I just saw the bullet hit her in the head.”
“Oh, Dear sweet Jesus. Thank God you were not killed.” Cried Mama
“Are you sure you did not see who did it?” asked Daddy
“I am sure.”
“How are you sure?”
“I had my back to the shooter. I was standing face to face with Takeisha. The bullet whizzed past my shoulder and struck her in the head.
“Have you spoken to police?”
“No. I have only been awake since a little before you guys got here.”
“When you speak to them, make it clear that you did not see anything. There is no telling what that girl was mixed up in. You don’t need that coming to roost on your doorstep.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“We need to get back to Queensboro and get the boys,” Dad hugged me, “Take it easy, son.”
“Thanks Daddy. Thanks Mama. I love y’all.”
As soon as they were gone, I wanted to call them back and beg them to stay with me. I was scared as hell, especially when I started to remember Takeisha’s last words to me, “No! That nigga is not who you think he is. That is not your cousin, Quamie!”
Now I felt vindicated in suspecting that Breon’s ass was on foul shit. He had something to do with her murder. Goddamn, I needed a plan of action, and I didn’t have my two main soldiers. Cooley was dead and Chris was not in any condition to deal with this. There wasn’t any point in calling Jabari. Though he had done a lot of maturing in five years, Jabari still lacked critical thinking skills, and this was a big ass problem!
Chapter Eleven
That old hateful ass bitch! A week later Krista Vinson was still fuming. She should have cussed Fendi Caraway’s (Had Breon’s father ever even married her ass, why was she using his last name; fucken pick me) the hell out. Had it been any occasion other than a funeral repass, Krista probably would have laid hands on Fendi.
For over a year after Jerod died in a car accident, Fendi slandered his name as well as Quamie’s, Chris’s, Cooley’s, and Jabari’s. She accused Jerod of being a homosexual pedophile when he wasn’t alive to defend himself. The bitch never cared how her words would affect her deceased nephew’s children who loved their father.
She accused Cooley, Chris, Quamie and Jabari of murdering her missing son; had actually gone to law enforcement with that nonsense! She was willing to ruin the lives of four young Black men, two of them parents, one of them about to become one, rather than accept the probability that her fucken son was just like his daddy and decided to skip out on his baby mama instead of taking responsibility. And when her son showed the fuck up alive and well, not one apology was uttered.
For the umpteenth time that day, hell that week, Krista fought the urge to call Fendi and give her an earful, especially for that last little comment she had made after Krista chose to show Fendi grace rather than punch her in the throat, kick her in the pussy, and monkey stomp her hateful ass out right there in Vashti’s kitchen.
“Ask Viviane how often she brings Jerod’s children over to visit...”
Viviane Vinson did not give a shit about her grandchildren, just as she hadn’t given a shit about her only child. Jerod. When Jerod was alive, he gave his mother money and material things but made it clear to Krista that she was no mother and his children were not going to be raised in the way that he was. Jerod had confided in Krista that his mother never worked opting to live on welfare, was a neglectful mother, and had fucked every one of her own sister’s husbands and baby daddies.
In the seven years that Jerod had been dead, Viviane had not sent a single birthday card or bought a Christmas present. In fact, not a single one of Jerod’s Aunts and Uncles had done a damn thing for his children either. Jerod’s cousins and their significant others were the ones who held it down for Krista and Jerod’s two children: Quamie cut Jaleek’s hair free of charge, Vashti hooked Jameelah up with cute , age appropriate hairstyles, Jabari kept the yard cut, Chris changed her oil and provided her with other car maintenances for free, Jaqueline , Cooley’s wife, paid for Jameelah’s dance school and gymnastics tuition, while Cooley covered the costs for Jaleek to play football and basketball. Because of them her 18-year-old son was about to start his freshman year at Virginia Tech on a full scholarship, and her 16-year-old daughter was about to begin her Senior year in an early college program. Everything was done out of their love and admiration for Jerod and his children. What made Krista go especially hard in the paint in defending Chris, Cooley, Jabari, and Quamie when their names were being slandered by ain’t shit family members who didn’t even fuck with Fendi but repeated her bullshit because they did not have dick all of shit else better to do with their lives, was the fact that not a single one of those men propositioned her for sexual favors.
Krista channeled the pent-up energy she had from wanting to put foot in Fendi’s ass into deep cleaning her home. With her two children away at her mother’s house, Krista had the freedom to purge items without hearing a debate from one or both of the kids over why they needed to keep a set of earbuds that they hadn’t used in months, or chargers that probably didn’t have a single volt left within them.
In her mission to declutter, Krista foraged through her closet pulling out shoes and boots that she hadn’t worn in years. Some she hadn’t worn at all. Krista would let Jameelah choose the ones she wanted then donate the rest to the women’s shelter.
On the closet floor next to a pair of pink, fur-lined Timberland Boots that Krista could not recall the last time she had had them on her feet was something she had forgotten all about, Jerod’s laptop. If it still worked, that would be one less thing that she would have to buy for Jaleek.
Krista sat on the foot of her bed and plugged the computer’s charger into the closest outlet. It powered on. Thank God! Krista typed in her name, which had been Jerod’s password for all of his electronic devices.
Krista’s eyes instantly became misty at the sight of Jeriod’s background picture. Christmas of 2017, the last Christmas that he was alive. She Jerod and the children wore red and green plaid footed pajamas and elf hats; corny, but adorable. Krista searched through files with the intent to erase any of the naughty videos that she and Jerod had created. There were at least twenty video files that she did not recognize or probably did not remember. It had been over seven years since she’d even seen the computer, after all. She clicked on one of the videos blushing at the prospect of seeing herself and Jerod in action.
Krista’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Her mouth hung open so wide her chin damn near touched her chest. Krista’s heart began to beat at an accelerated pace as she tried to make sense out of what was happening on the computer screen. Jerod was having very aggressive sex with someone who clearly wasn’t Krista and clearly did not sound like a willing participant. Krista thought her heart would explode. Her breathing was labored. When the camera zoomed in on the face of her husband’s victim, Krista screamed.
“Oh my God, that was Breon; he was just a baby!”
Krista sat on her back porch steps. She took a deep drag from the joint that she had haphazardly rolled moments earlier. She stared blankly into space trying to process what she had seen. She made it through ten of the videos before she turned the computer off out of fear that she would lose her mind. Jerod had videos dating as far back as 2009 and as recent as a few weeks before he died in 2018. Doing the math in her head, Krista came to realize from the dates on the videos that Quamie, Chris, Jabari, Breon and definitely Jayson (Dear God, little Jayson whose hair Krista used to braid) had all been minors. Jerod was eight years older than Quamie and Chris, Thirteen years older than Jabari and Breon and 15 years older than Jayson. Fendi had been right all along.
Krista’s stomach was in knots as she dialed Fendi’s phone number. The desire to cuss the old woman out over something she said a week ago had been replaced by the need to apologize.
“Yeah.” Said Fendi sounding as rude and nasty as she wanted to be.
Hanging up would have ended the uncomfortable situation, but it would not have undid the truth.
“Miss Fendi I… Miss Fendi, I know you don’t like me… I …” Krista could not bring herself to utter the words that were burning in her mouth. You were right Miss Fendi Jerod was a pedophile, and he was fucking all of his younger male cousins including your son!
“Look, I ain’t got time for your foolishness, I have cops here questioning my son over some shit. Girl bye!”
Krista was still trying to properly string her words together long after Fendi had rudely hung up on her.
Breon sat motionless on his mother’s living room couch. He had been that way for well over thirty minutes, long after the cops had delivered the news of Takeisha’s murder.
Litte BJ wept loudly out on the front porch, where he wanted to be, rather than inside the house where he had heard police officers callously state that his mother had been shot in the head.
Mercifully, Fendi chose to quietly prepare dinner for her grieving son and grandson.
Breon knew that Takeisha’s death was inevitable, but for some reason he had wanted to believe that Unc would not find her.
“I called Laqueena to give my condolences.” Said Fendi sitting on the couch next to Breon. “Regardless of how I felt about Takeisha, I know that you really did love her. She did not deserve that.”
“Thanks.” Said Breon, hoarsely.
“I told Laqueena we will help her with the funeral cost, so that she can be put away nicely. Lord, I know Laqueena is going to pick the most ghetto way possible to funeralize her daughter__”
“Mama!”
“I don’t mean no harm by it. I am just grateful that whatever trouble Takeisha got herself into, she had the decency to get away from you and BJ, so that you two didn’t get caught in the crossfire. I respect the hell out of her for that.”
Breon was startled to hear Fendi say anything remotely kind about Takeisha.
“Tomorrow, we need to visit Laqueena. I am sure she would want to see BJ, and I know she has to be going through it. She’s lost her only child. For over a year I lived with the horror of never seeing my only child again,” Tears began to pour from Fendi’s eyes “Poor Laqueena is never going to have the privilege of having her only child show back up out of the blue. Her only child is gone. I would not wish that pain on any woman.” Breon wrapped his arms around his mother who had begun shaking like a leaf and bawling at the top of her lungs.
Chapter Twelve
Taheim West laid in the darkness of his dorm room. He had not attended a single practice since Monday. Taheim’s coaches and teammates extended him grace and understanding, considering the fact that he had recently lost his father. Though Taheim was still hurting from the loss of his father, his grief stemmed from another loss, one that Taheim himself had created.
Three years ago, when then sixteen-year-old, Taheim begun an affair with his cousin Breon’s baby mother, Takeisha, the last two things he expected were that he would fall madly in love with her and ultimately wind up being the one to take her life.
In the final weeks of his father’s life, Taheim, spent hours with Cooley playing checkers and 21. During those games, Cooley would talk excessively. Taheim dismissed much of what his father said as mindless rambling as a result of constant pain and heavy medication. Most of the time, Taheim would only half listen, that was until his father made a statement so random and bizarre, Taheim could not help but give his father’s rambling his undivided attention.
“Breon is dead.”
“Dad, no, he is alive. He just lives in Atlanta; remember?”
“That nigga ain’t Breon. Breon is dead. I know because I buried him.”
Taheim’s hand hovered over the checkerboard. He had completely lost focus on the clear four way jump that Cooley’s poor playing had afforded him. Taheim felt a chill. His father was not lying. Dear God!
“What do you mean. I do not understand. Who is he?”
“That’s Breon’s half-brother. Should have been his fucken twin. Funny how genetics work, People used to think that me and your Uncle Jerod were twins rather than cousins, even though I am two years older and a whole shade darker.”
“But how did Breon die?”
“It should not have happened. I don’t want to talk about that. I have already asked God to forgive me.”
“But how did…where did you even find that nigga and why was he willing to pretend to be his brother?”
“You know how Unc is. He has been looking out for me since I was a little boy. He wasn’t going to let me lose my family, my business, and my freedom.”
“But why did you kill him?”
“I didn’t kill him. I buried him.”
“Who killed him then, and why?”
“You don’t need to know all of that. And you don’t ever need to repeat what I said. Taheim, do you understand?”
“I understand. I promise everything you said will never leave this room.”
Two days after his father passed away, Taheim would break his promise. In dire need of something to take his mind off of the fact that he was never going to see his father again, Taheim made a desperate plea to the woman that he in his youthful exuberance had fallen madly in love with despite her ardent insistence that he did not do so.
“Let’s just run-away together Takeisha. I can get a job, and help you take care of BJ___”
“Taheim, I know you are hurting from losing your father, but you are talking crazy. There is no way that I can run off with you. I cannot take my child away from his father. Besides, I love Breon. I have loved him since we were around your age.”
“But I love you.”
“And you shouldn’t. That’s why this between us has to end.”
“End; like you’re not carrying my baby?”
“This is Breon’s baby!”
“That’s a Goddamn lie because that nigga ain’t even Breon.”
“Taheim, I know you’re going through a lot, but now you are just flat-out talking crazy.”
“That nigga ain’t Breon! Breon is dead! You have been fucking that nigga for five years, got your son around him, and want to be pregnant by him, but that is not Breon at all. That’s Breon’s half-brother.”
“Taheim, this shit ain’t funny__”
“Bitch, does it sound like I am laughing!?”
“Oh, hell no, you do not get to talk to me ever again. I am sorry for your loss, but please do not ever contact me again, Taheim.”
As soon as she hung up, Taheim regretted his actions. He tried for several days to call her back; to lie to her and tell her that he had made the whole thing up in a desperate attempt to get her to leave Breon and start a life with him.
By the time the day of Cooley’s funeral arrived, Taheim was so burdened with regret, especially when he heard that Takeisha had gone missing, he broke down and told the one man he knew he could confide in, Unc.
The Saturday after Cooley’s funeral, Taheim was summoned to Unc’s mancave. To Taheim’s surprise, Breon was there, sitting on Unc’s plush leather couch. The bridge of sweat on Breon’s brow, the very noticeable sweaty imprint on the green velvet of Unc’s pool table, combined with the very pungent odor sexual musk that overpowered the scent of Unc’s cherry cigar, left little to the guess about what had occurred before Taheim arrived. Taheim was as unsurprised as the two men were unashamed.
When Taheim was thirteen, he discovered the true nature of his father’s and Unc’s relationship. It happened on Thanksgiving day. Taheim, who was supposed to be outside playing football with his cousins and siblings while the women finished cooking, and Unc and Cooley watched the Turkey Day Classic college bowl in Unc’s mancave, snuck back in to steal a handful of the chocolate chip cookies from the plate in the foyer, when he noticed a slight crack in the door to the room where his father and Unc were supposed to be watching football. Losing his nerve just to walk in and join the two in watching the game, Taheim peeped through the crack in the door. At thirteen, Taheim had never fathomed any scenario in which he would see two naked grown men having sex, he was astonished that the two men were his own father and great uncle. Taheim just quietly pulled the door completely shut and never thought or spoke of the matter again, even when his father was on his deathbed.
“Breon, meet the young man who has been fucking your bitch for the last three years,” Said Unc as tactless as ever. Taheim often wondered how could such a refined and accomplished man be so crass and unfiltered. “He’s also the one that told her your little secret, and now she’s missing and now she is a problem.”
“I am sorry man,” Taheim tried to apologize “I just___”
“You’re just a young, wet behind the ear nigger that ain’t used to pussy and got yourself whipped by the first one you were allowed to play in on a regular basis. You are nineteen years old, with one year of college under your belt, you think a grown bitch with kids is going to leave a stable income for your ass?”
“I am sorry.”
“Sorry ain’t do it, you did. Now you have to fix your fuck up.”
“What can I do? I have been trying to call her.”
Unc reached into his desk and removed a Ruger .22 semi-automatic. Taheim and Breon’s eyes widened with fear.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Laughed Unc “While it might be a stress reliever to blow both of your worrisome mother fuckers away, this is for you, Taheim. This is how you are going to take care of the little problem that you created.”
“Unc, come on Unc. Let me talk to her, tell her I was making shit up.”
“I have traced her location and lucky for you she is right in Greenville, where you just happen to be returning to for summer football camp.” Said Unc as if he hadn’t heard any of Taheim’s attempt to reason.
“But Unc, she’s pregnant. Come on, Breon man, that’s your baby!”
“Is it my baby?” shrugged Breon
“Fuck that baby! If that bitch gets the right people snooping a lot of your family members are going to end up in jail and that multimillion-dollar estate that your father left for you, your mother, and siblings is going fucken bye- bye!!”
“I did not mean to cause any of this.” Said Taheim who accepted the gun in defeat.
“Well, you did, and now you are going to correct it. I want her ass gone from this earth before next Wednesday.”
“Yes, Unc. I will take care of it.”
He had been trailing her since Jayson dropped him off at ECU on Monday. Back in possession of his own vehicle and armed with information passed on to him from Unc regarding Takeisha’s where abouts, Taheim spent nearly a day and a half just following her and trying to work up the nerve to do what he had come to realize he had no choice but to do. By Tuesday afternoon, loaded with a couple of shots of Jack Daniels for extra courage, Taheim was prepared to do as he had been ordered.
He sat in the mall parking lot wearing a dreadlock wig and a large pair of black Ray-Ban sunglasses. He did not need a disguise. People were so preoccupied with their cellphones, he could have walked right up to anyone in that mall and murdered them, and no one would have been able to give a description.
His heart began to race when he saw her exit the mall. He leaned out of the window of his Lexus SUV and took aim. The red dot was perfectly aligned on her forehead. No! Out of nowhere, his worrisome ass cousin, Quamie, came and blocked what would have been a perfect hit. Taheim knew that if he fucked up and hit Quamie there would be hell to pay, but he also knew that it was now or never. Taheim opened the door to the SUV and stood on the driver’s side running board. He had just enough height to avoid blowing Quamie’s head off, he just needed to get a proper aim once again on Takeisha. The red dot rested on her forehead. Unc and his father would have been proud of how cleanly he had made the difficult shot.
He was back in the SUV and zooming out of the parking lot before anyone looked up from their fucken cell phone to notice a woman shot dead, one man running to render aid, and another faint on the asphalt in broad daylight.
Jerod
I wanted to be Unc’s favorite. He made it very clear that that would never happen, even after I let him fuck me on my 18th birthday. Cooley was his favorite.
“I just thought that maybe you could help me like you helped Cooley, you know, get me into a good college___”
“College, Nigga, your ass can barely read,” Laughed Unc “You are seventeen and still a freshman. What fucken college is going to take you?”
“I don’t know.” I admitted hanging my head in shame. “I just wanted you to like me.” I got out of the bed he’d just fucked me in and started to put my clothes back on.
“Pathetic. Cooley is going to be a very wealthy man because he was born with talent and intellect. You have the potential to be a very wealthy man because you have a good ass and a deep throat.”
“Fuck you!” I hissed
“See how stupid you are. I just paid you a compliment. You are good to fuck, just like your Mama. And she is one stupid bitch. That woman’s pussy is too good, and she has had too many well-paid dicks stuck in her to still be living in abject poverty. You are never going to make it in this world by any means other than selling drugs or selling your ass. You can barely count pocket change, so I doubt you know how to measure grams and ounces. I am the accountant for several rich and powerful men: senators, mega church preachers, judges, pro athletes, etcetera who would pay top dollar to fuck a pretty nigga like you. All you gotta do is keep your body clean and in shape.”
“For real?”
“For real. Use what God gave you, Jerod. You ain’t never going to be anybody’s honor student or corporate tycoon, but you could be well- paid trade. Show people in this family that just because your Mama is a have nothing, ain’t shit bitch, it doesn’t mean that’s what you have to be.”
“Would you ever suggest this to Cooley. or for your own son?”
“Hell no, but neither one of them is you.”
“Wow. I just wanted you to like me. That’s why I slept with you.”
“And I am telling you; you have what it takes to be a very wealthy young man; you’re just going to have to fuck and get fucked to do it. I am not disrespecting you; I am helping you.”
“You’re seriously not just looking down on me?”
“Telling you that you don’t have what it takes to make a decent living without selling your body and hooking you up with wealthy clients is not looking down on you, it’s looking out for you. You are not going to ever get into anybody’s college or run a Fortune 500 business; however, you can make a great living fucking college educated men who own and run Fortune 500 businesses. I could have you earning ten grand by the weekend.”
“Really; that much?”
“Yes, and once you start earning this money, don’t be stupid with it. Of course, buy you some nice things, but purchase you a home, let me invest some in the stock market for you.”
“You really have faith in me that I can do this?”
“Boy as good as you can ride and suck a dick, I have no doubt you will be successful. Also, find you a nice young lady. You are seventeen and ain’t got no girlfriend, that shit don’t look right.”
“Yes sir.”
“I am about to put the keys to a better life in your hands. Do not fuck it up. The last thing you ever want to do is get on my bad side.”
“Yes sir. Thank You. I promise, I will not disappoint you.”
Six months after my eighteenth birthday, I purchased a turquoise blue Cadillac Escalade, moved the fuck out of my Mama’s shitty section eight house, and moved into a Condo. I met and started dating a beautiful, petite, chocolate beauty named Krista Wills, who never asked how I made my money, she was just happy to not be in the crowded, nasty ass roached infested project house that her mother raised her and her siblings in.
By the time I was 19, Krista was expecting our first child and Unc helped me secure a good deal on a splendid two -story three-bedroom modern house with a double garage. Unc’s wife, my mother’s younger sister, Gloria, put her rarely used interior decorating degree to use and helped me and Krista lay our house out and design the perfect nursery for our child to be. Krista and I were married a month before our son arrived.
The more I started to come up, the more I started to notice that there were two camps in the family: the ones who really didn’t have shit, were the ones who openly pondered the day that I was going to get busted for selling drugs. Sadly, my own Mama was in that camp, even though she had no shame in asking to “borrow” a couple hundred dollars whenever she needed it. Then there was the camp that saw me as a celebrity. This was mainly my younger male cousins, especially Chris and Quamie. They were always bragging about their cool cousin with the fancy ride, nice house, and wife that looked as if she were Naomi Campbell’s little sister.
In all honesty, I resented those two soft, yellow mother fuckers. They did not come from any form of struggle the way that me and Cooley had. Cooley’s parents were crack heads, and my Mama just flat out didn’t give a damn about me. Uncle Desmond and Aunt Claire gave Chris’s ass damn near anything he wanted, but Uncle Deandre and Aunt Gloria took the damn cake when it came to Quamie. That nigga was so fucken spoiled it didn’t make sense. He barely had one game system a good couple of months before his parents bought him the latest one and all the games that went with it.
I still loved Chris and Quamie, though. I did not groom those two niggas. I hate that fucken word. I could tell that Chris, Quamie, Jabari, and Jayson were all inclined to be same sex attracted just as me and Cooley were. I mistakenly thought the same thing about Breon. Chris and Quamie weren’t as noticeable as Jabari and Jayson. Jabari did try to put on a façade of masculinity in spite of being into dance, cheerleading, and gymnastics. Jayson was semi- masculine but open about his attraction to other males very early.
The Circle of Amor was about so much more than sex. I knew that Chris, Quamie, Jabori and Jayson needed to be properly guided on how to conduct themselves as black same sex attracted young men in this judgmental ass world. I did not want them out there being or fucking those attention seeking faggots that they plaster all over television and social media. Talk about fucken grooming; niggas have made being faggots fashionable.
I wanted them to be like my clients: rich, successful Black men with nice homes and beautiful families who just engaged in this homo shit once or twice a month for a stress releaser.
But all of those niggas are soft, and Cooley did not know how to keep their asses in line after I was gone. He did good, but Cooley wasn’t like me or Unc, quick to lay hands on a nigga to get him to fall in line. Had I been there, that shit would have never happened to Breon. My biggest regret is not telling Breon that I had mad respect for him in not going along to get along and apologize to him for even trying to get him to go along in the first place. Breon is the only one you will ever get me to say that I was wrong for fucking. The rest of those niggas wanted it loved it, kept coming back to get it, and still doing the shit amongst each other all these years after I have been gone.
And now Cooley is gone. God only knows how unhinged those niggas are going to be without some type of voice of reason. I created the Circle of Amor to give my cousins the freedom to indulge in the forbidden amongst themselves while establishing families and building legacies. Hopefully, they do not lose sight of that because the greatest tragedy would be for them to allow all that I have gifted them to go to waste.
Chapter Thirteen
My family was doing bad. In the four months since Cooley passed away shit had been hitting the people I loved left and right. Taheim was on his third psychiatric hold in this month, his tenth overall in the short while since his father passed away. This time was the most extreme because he had actually tried to hang himself. Thank God his mother, Jaqcqueline, found him in time. Poor Jacqueline, on top of losing her husband, she came very close to losing her first born son. Greif had turned a prime college athlete and future top NFL prospect into a paranoid, rambling, shell of his former self.
Aunt Bernadette was back on crack. Eighteen years of sobriety blown with the loss of a son that showed her the grace of forgiving, rather than hating her for having been an unfit absent mother his entire childhood. It hurt my heart to see her shuffle by my shop, with her head down in a hurry to go and cop.
Speaking of the shop, I allowed Daddy to talk me into leasing a chair to Breon. Hell, I was not going to turn down an extra $1,200 a month, besides, I was confident in my skills that another nigga could be right in the shop cutting hair, and I would still have a line wrapped around the block wanting my service, which turned out to be true. Breon did decent business, especially with older cats who did not have the patience to wait in line.
I still did not trust him and suspected he had a hand in Takeisha’s murder. I could not get over the last thing she said to me before someone put a bullet in her head. She knew that he was not really Breon. How she found out, after five years of cohabitating and even getting pregnant by this man, I do not know, but I fully believed that finding out is what costed Takeisha her life.
If he did have a hand in it, he did not show any signs of guilt. He grieved Takeisha as if he were genuinely in love with her. I did not put too much stock in that, since for five years he had been very convincingly pretending to be his deceased half-brother.
One very cold and rainy Thursday in mid-October, Breon and I were experiencing something that had never happened before in the entire existence of Quamie Cutz, it was damn near lunch time and neither one of us had had a customer. I cannot really blame anybody for not coming out, cold, heavy ass rain was pouring from the sky making everything outside difficult to even see. I had already made up my mind that if it had not tapered off by closing time, I was just going to pull out the sofa bed in my back room and spend the night in the shop.
Me and old boy were bored as hell, as we sat across from each other either playing games or watching Tik Tok videos on our phones.
“Damn this rain will really get you in your feelings.” Said Breon
“How so?” I asked
“I mean, if you are already depressed over something, this cold ass, dreary weather is only going to make it worse.”
“Yeah, okay, I can see that.”
“Then again, if you are horny as hell, being shut inside with this rain pounding down on the roof and beating against the windows could have you damn near about to climb the walls. I am at that point, Quamie, real talk.”
There was so much bass in old boy’s voice when he said my name, I felt every nerve in my body twitch.
“Damn, you got it that bad, my nigga.”
“So bad, I have been sitting here for three hours fighting the urge to suck your dick.”
Oh, Suky mother fucken Suky! Shit, we were both grown ass men, won’t neither of us married or in a relationship; hell, were weren’t even really cousins, not that that would have mattered.
“Go on to the back.” I instructed. “I’ma close the shop up, turn out these front lights, and then I will meet you back there.”
“Bet!” he said standing up, his hard dick was stretching the hell out of his black sweatpants and heading to the back.
By the time I had turned the sign to close, locked the door, and turned off all of the lights in the front of the shop, my dick was on brick times ten. Shit, I hadn’t had sex since that romp with Jabari back in June. That was four months a
“Nigga!” I exclaimed when I entered the back of the shop. Breon was naked as sin sitting in my office chair with his legs up over his head. His asshole was pretty, pink, and ripe for the picking. Oh, I was gonna dick this nigga down something savage!
“I told you, I was horny,” he chuckled putting his feet on the floor.
go!
Man, I could not get my clothes off fast enough.
“Big dicks must run in the family.” He smiled before taking my dick in his mouth.
Breon was swallowing my pipe so good, I almost wanted to kick my own ass for waiting five years before getting freaky with old boy. Breon sucked my dick until it became too big to fit inside of his mouth.
“Listen,” he said gripping my shit in his hand, “I ain’t no punk, and I ain’t no runner. If you ain’t ready to stick all of this dick from the head to base in me, we ‘bout to have a problem.”
Damn his voice was sexy as hell. Nigga said he wanted my dick from head to base. Ah! Say less.
I wore his ass out; O-U- Mutha Fucken T -out! His voice went from bass to bitch hella fast, but true to his word, he won’t no runner. Breon was throwing that ass back to me as hard as I was throwing dick. I thought I had aggressive sex with Chris and Jabori, but this shit was borderline sadistic, We were slapping each other, calling each other the most dehumanizing names, and waging a bet on whether he would tap out or I would bust first. I lost the hell out of that bet. Old boy’s asshole gripped my meat one good time while I was giving him back shots, and he would not release that shit until I exploded inside of him.
We spent the rest of the day in my back room fucking like hyper rabbits on my sofa bed. I couldn’t begin to tell you how many nuts we busted, but by the time the rain subsided around 8:00 PM, we were both headed home with soft dicks, sore asses, and fully satisfied.
After I put the twins to bed, I took a much-needed hot shower. As water and soap cascaded down my body, I reminded myself that I could not develop feeling for old boy, regardless of how good the sex was. I still did not fully trust him, plus, I could not realistically have a relationship with him, since he was family. At thirty years old, I wanted an open relationship with a man that I could proudly tell my friends and family he was my partner, my boyfriend, my husband. I wanted it to be Olivier so bad.
I climbed into my bed ready for the dope ass sleep I was about to have when my phone rang. I did not recognize the number. I wanted to ignore it, but something in my soul would not let me.
“Hello?”
“Quamie.”
I could not believe it. It had been four years since I had heard her voice.
“Trineece; Oh my God, Trineece. Are you okay, where are you?”
“I am fine, Quamie. I just wanted to check on you. I know I am late, but I am so sorry to hear that Cooley passed away. I was in Amsterdam all summer and I didn’t find out about it until I called Mama the other day. He was always very sweet to me.”
“Yeah, he was always telling me how I needed to stop being a fool and marry you. Where are you now?”
“I am in Japan.”
“What the fuck are you doing in Japan.”
“Working. You know MeYang the half Black, half Japanese Tik Tok rapper?”
“I think so.” I said, but I really didn’t. Most of those Tik Tok rappers were whack as fuck to me and all of them sounded the same.
“I was hired to be her hair stylist; I have been on tour with her since June. We have been to Amsterdam, China, France, Italy, and now Japan.”
“The boys are doing good, Trineece.” I said, frustrated as hell that she hadn’t asked about her own children that she had not laid eyes on since they were infants. “They can count to 100, they know the alphabet, they can tie their shoes. They’re in Pre K now.”
“Do not do that, Quamie.”
“Do what?”
“Try and make me feel like shit for deciding that I did not want to be a parent and I did not want to be in a long-term relationship with you.”
“So, you have spent these past four years just pretending as if the three of us never existed?”
“I refuse to do this with you or anyone, Quamie. I just called to give my condolences, albeit late. Take care Quamie.”
And just like that she hung the fuck up. I was seething. I had been defending the hell out of her for four years, but this call confirmed what people in my family and hers had been saying; Trineece was a selfish ass bitch! My children were never going to hear those words come out of my mouth, but I was done hoping and pretending that Trineece would come around, and even if she did not want to be with me, she would want to establish a relationship with our beautiful boys.
My phone rang again. I was hoping it was Trineece, so that I could light into her ass and let her know how fucked up she truly was, but it was Olivier. My anger instantly evaporated.
“Hi there stranger.”
“Hi, Quamie. I am sorry I haven’t been calling regularly; I have been in West Virginia for the past couple of months. My Uncle on my father’s side entered hospice and wanted me for his personal nurse.”
“Oh, I am sorry for your loss.”
“No loss, he got better. Once I figured out they had him on the wrong medication and got him on a proper diet, he perked right up. The man just had high blood pressure, which can be managed with diet and exercise, and his doctor had him on so much shit he wasn’t functional. It is fucked up what the medical industry does to Black people.”
“Damn, thank God you went there.”
“So, how is your head?”
“Shit, you know, I be damn near sucking the soul out of niggas.”
“No, silly,” He laughed, “I mean the concussion; how have you been? Any lingering headaches, nausea, lethargy, vertigo, or night terrors?”
“No, thank God, I healed completely. The only pain I have had is not hearing from you consistently these past couple of months.”
“You are so full of shit.” Laughed Olivier
“See, now I am hurting because you don’t believe me.”
“You remind me of this guy I used to mess around with in high school. He could run a line of BS on you in a minute. Could talk me right out of my boxers no matter how much I declared I was done with him.”
“When are going to let me talk you out of your boxers?”
“Never, I am not in high school anymore.”
“Damn, you must be aiming on killing me tonight. The only reason I am staying alive is because you owe me some dome. I haven’t forgotten.”
“Neither have I.” Sighed Olivier
“Damn, You ain’t gotta sound all depressed about it.”
“Quamie, here is the truth. I really think the best thing for the two of us is to hang up, delete each other’s numbers, and go about our lives with no further contact.”
“What the hell, Olivier?”
“I do not want to hurt you, Quamie. You have feelings for me that I do not, cannot, and will not ever have for you. No amount of sex is going to change that fact. You are a dope ass guy, Quamie, and you deserve a man who can love you in the way that you want to be loved. I am not that guy, I love two men in the way that they want to be loved because they love me in the way that I want to be loved.”
“I could love you in the way that you want to be loved.” My voice had become shaky and on the verge of tears.
“What good will that do you if it isn’t reciprocated?”
“Please, Olivier, just give me a chance. I am not trying to get you to leave those other niggas, I am just trying_”
“No, Quamie. Your true love is out there. I am not him. I am so sorry.”
“Please.” I was bawling. This shit was breaking my heart. Maybe I could have handled it better had I not just heard from Trineece.
“I am sorry, Quamie. Take care of yourself.”
I was still bawling and begging long after Olivier had hung up the phone. I attempted to call back, but to my complete and utter agony, he had blocked my phone number.
Thank you for reading this and the other chapters of this story. Please rate and please feel free to leave feedback. All feedback, good , bad, or indifferent is appreciated.
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