CHAPTER TWO

 

And Things Must Change

 

Summer, 1995

 

 

Fifteen-year-old Lauren Fletcher sat on the porch of her parents’ house, a beautiful six-bedroom mansion surrounded by huge oak trees in rural West Virginia. With its pitted cerise colored greco and grey stones around the perimeter, it spoke to the power of the occupants who possessed it.

Money was in that house.

Accustomed to the best life had to offer, Lauren waited patiently for her boyfriend, Langston, to tell her what was so urgent it couldn’t wait. In baited breath, she placed a strand of her long brown hair, seduced with locks of curls behind her ear and gazed at him with her worried green eyes.

In the background she could hear her horses prancing among the rocks and neighing.

Langston’s handsome face contorted in anger as he took a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t want to do this to you,” he said softly. “I don’t want to do this to us…but it’s over.”

She smiled, believing her ears were deceiving her. She may have chosen to play dumb, but her heart received the information correctly and responded in kind, by releasing several streams of tears down her face. “Langston…what…I’m…confused.”

She swatted the tears away.

“It’s over, Lauren and I know that you heard me.”

Her neck bent forward. “But you…you said you would never do anything like this to me. You promised. So how can you sit there and break my heart?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and tried to prevent himself from choking up. “I’m protecting you, Lauren,” he whispered as he looked toward the door and back at her. “I wish I could say more but I can’t. I will tell you this…I’m not the man you think I am. I never was and never will be.”

“What does that mean?” she asked…voice wavering.

He exhaled and leaned back in the chair. “I lied to you. I’m not in college and I don’t work for the bank.” He looked out at the driveway at his late model Mercedes. “Everything you think I am is wrong.”

There was a tingling sensation in her chest. “Then what are you?”

“The kind of man you had no business dealing with,” he said firmly. “Beautiful, I’m trying to tell you that I’m an eighteen-year-old hustler.”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t say that,” she whispered. “If my parents hear you they won’t let us be together.” She looked at the screen door and back at him. “Plus I’ve been to the bank. You showed me where you worked. Remember?”

“It was all a lie, Lauren! Did you ever go inside? Just once?”

She stood up. “No, but I saw you come out.”

“But did you see me at my desk, Lauren?” he yelled, angry she was so naive. He wanted her to be stronger not weaker for the next man.

“I don’t care what you are, Langston. I don’t care what you do for a living; all I ask is that you not leave me. We can make it work we just need a little time to clear things up that’s all.”

“There’s no clearing shit up! It’s over, Lauren. And I’ll never see you again.”

Realizing all was lost she said, “My father warned me to stay away from you and I should’ve listened.” She spit in his face. “I will never disobey him again.”

He smiled. “Now the real Lauren is coming out. The one who isn’t green for real, but just plays the part.”

“You don’t know shit about me.”

“I know you a hustler’s wife. I know you know more than you let on.”

“My daddy will bury you once he hears this shit,” she said, having no real intentions on telling her father. The pain she felt had her spewing out all kinds of things. “He told me not to trust you and now look. He’s always right.”

She moved for the house as he broke out into laughter. “So that nigga throws me up under the bus and makes himself look like a saint.” He shook his head. “I ain’t even surprised.”

She turned around and looked down at him…nostrils flaring. “Don’t talk about my father.”

“While you so busy putting him on a pedestal know this, your pops put me in the game. Who you think is my connect?” he laughed. “Your daddy. I was trying to hide you from this shit but what you not ‘bout to do is act like he better than me.”

He looked at her trembling body.

“Now your pops asked me to break up with you on account of some shit he caught up in. You ‘bout to leave this house, Lauren. You moving out of the country, and he didn’t want you to be mad at him for taking you away from me. The dream is over and it’s all because he fucked over the wrong niggas…some dealers from Mexico. And now it’s time to pay the piper, baby.”

She shook her head rapidly from left to right. “No…it’s not true! This is my house and my daddy is a doctor.”

He laughed. “And what do doctors give patients to make them feel better?” he paused. “Drugs.”

As if in slow motion, suddenly a blacked out six passenger van rolled up in front of the house. The side door slid open and despite the sunny day, five armed men, dressed in ski masks and hoods spilled from the vehicle as if they had been skiing the slopes. With automatic assault weapons in hand, they rushed the house aiming at Lauren and Langston.

With all hell breaking loose, Langston covered Lauren’s body with his own, a true testament of his love. As glass from the house windows sprinkled on top of them like heavy balls of hail, she was mortified. Although she was concealed, the thunderous sound of their feet running up the wooden steps rocked her core.

What do they want? She thought.

“Langston…what’s happening?” she whispered as his body felt heavier on her. “I’m scared.”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t if he wanted to.

He took a long deep exhalation and as she lay under him, she could feel the warm blood from the bullet he took to the gut spilling onto her body. He was dead.

She could hear gunfire streaming from inside the house. Her muscles ticked as she battled with running, playing dead or entering the house to help her parents. When she heard her mother’s screaming voice followed by her father’s, the house fell eerily silent.

No more bullets ringing or pleas.

Slowly the men poured out of the house, three of them moved toward the van and one remained behind. Through the slits of her closed eyes she saw butter colored skin surrounding his large beady eyes. She would never forget them for as long as she lived.

He pointed the gun at Langston’s back, and shot him again before rushing toward the waiting van. It wasn’t until they pulled off that she prodded Langston’s body off of hers. Standing up, soaked in blood, she wailed into the light blue sky.

Her life would never be the same.

 

 

5 YEARS LATER

 

The black plastic trash bag that sat on Lauren’s legs made the tops her legs sweat as she rode the rocky bus to the Laundromat. Her fake leather purse leaning against her thigh didn’t help to make her any cooler, but the bus was packed. She had to keep her belongings close so that others could have space to sit. And as she watched the landmarks speed past she felt frustration resting on her heart.

Her line of work wasn’t something she ever envisioned for herself but it was honest. Unlike some of her stripper neighbors, she had a unique business that netted her a little cash. She washed and folded the clothing of local drug dealers for money. Her life was uneventful. If she wasn’t in college, she was working.

As she was deep in thought, a chick wearing a tight red sweaty mini skirt played the hit song “Get It On Tonite” by Montell Jordan too loudly in the headphones of her Discman as she danced in place. Every time she moved, the body heat coming off her leg pressed against Lauren’s forcing her into a quiet rage.

Lauren’s laundry business started as a friendly gesture. Her next-door neighbor, who was a single drug dealer, would give her extra cash to buy his and her groceries. In return she would cook his meals and wash his clothes in the laundry room downstairs in their building. She accepted the offer and when he boasted to his friends at how good she cooked, and how he didn’t need a girl to take care of him because he had Lauren, his friends were interested in the beautiful domestic cutie.

Bids were made to try to make her their girl but after losing Langston, she wasn’t interested in a relationship and shot them all down. Instead she took their money and moved her laundry business to a Laundromat. Before long Lauren had ten regular customers who would give her collectively about one thousand dollars a month— enough for her bare basics.

At one point she stopped her business venture after meeting Varro, her ex-boyfriend. She met him while enrolled at the University of Maryland for equine studies…the study of horses in training for races. He owned a few horses himself in Virginia and wanted to learn how to breed, so he took a few courses, one of which she was a student in.

Although Varro was handsome with his light skin and hazel eyes…she avoided him because she liked him too much. And the more he pushed an introduction between them, the more she strayed away. After Lauren’s entire family was killed and she was thrown from grace, a man was not in the cards for her but Varro was diligent. When he saw she was uncomfortable with his advances, he eased up on the flirting and made moves to help her succeed with her dream.

In disguise as a friend, Varro took her to his home, showed her his horses and she was in heaven. She rode them, took care of them and loved them. Always attracted to older men, in time she and Varro built a stronger connection. After a little more time, he seduced her young mind with money and power and she was in a trance.

They spent hours talking about his career in real estate and she spoke about her love of horses. In the end he gained her trust and attempted to win her over. Before saying yes she needed to know that he was being honest about his lifestyle, fearing she would give her heart to another drug dealer. She wasn’t about to play a fool like she did with Langston.

Not only did she make him take her to his office, Varro Realty, she went inside and met his employees. Everything seemed legit and she agreed to spend the rest of her life with him. Slowly he convinced her to give up her side gig of washing clothes for other niggas, so that she could focus all of her attention on him, school and their horses.

In return she was given luxurious jewels, expensive clothing and a brand new Mercedes Benz. Before long she was back on top of the lavish lifestyle, where she was accustomed. She was addicted to the good life, so she moved into his mansion in suburbs of Virginia.

But her addiction had limits and she proved them to herself one sunny afternoon. She had just returned from a New York City shopping spree fully funded by Varro. Lauren shut the boutiques down, purchasing Christian Louboutin, Hermes, Celine and more. Money was no obstacle because Varro took care of her financially. It was as if she was in a dreamland when she was with him and every day was her birthday. She felt on top of the world until she overheard a conversation.

As she walked into the house, humming “Fortunate” by Maxwell, she dropped her shopping bags by the door and strolled into the kitchen. Easing off her chocolate fur coat, she tossed it on the back of the chair and grabbed a glass to pour her water in.

She smiled when she heard Varro yelling, knowing his tendency to scold his agents who failed to buy or sell homes properly. But when she heard the word cocaine she stumbled backwards into the refrigerator. The glass shattered at her Balenciaga pumps.

Hearing the noise, he walked into the kitchen and hung up on the caller. Staring into her green eyes, he knew in that moment he lost her. He placed the cordless phone on the counter. “Baby, let me explain,” he said walking closer. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

“Who are you?” she asked trembling.

“It wasn’t what you think,” he continued, as the glass on the floor crunched under his footsteps. He reached out to her. “I was just talking to my man about—”

“Who the fuck are you?” she yelled as she slapped his hand away.

He exhaled, looked down at the floor and back into her green eyes. “I’m a dealer.” He raised his arms and dropped them by his sides. “And I know you knew that.”

The room felt as if it was spinning and she placed her hands on the counter for balance. What’s wrong with me? She thought. How come I keep attracting this kind of man?

“I can’t do this, Varro! You stood in this house and promised me that you weren’t involved in that shit! But you lied! I told you what happened to me! I lost everything because of the game! Everybody I loved! You fucking lied and I’m leaving you.”

She grabbed her Louis Vuitton purse and moved quickly toward the door. At first his hands covered his face because this wasn’t what he wanted. He cared about Lauren and felt that in time she would come to except his lifestyle. Of course the real estate company was nothing but a front to clean up his money and it was a good one at that. The plan was to explain it to her when she was so blind in love that she couldn’t see straight. But now it looked as if that wouldn’t happen.

As she moved toward the door, he snatched her by the arm and looked into her eyes. He parted his lips, preparing to beg harder, before closing them again.

“What the fuck you want, Varro?” she yelled.

Suddenly his posture grew perfect— shoulders back and neck exposed. “Fuck you think you going?” he asked slowly. “In my car?”

Her eyes widened and she placed her hand over her heart. “But you…gave it to me.”

“With the drug money you claim you don’t want,” he reminded her before ripping the designer purse from her arm. “Everything you own belongs to me. I’ll let you keep what’s on your back, but the car and the other clothes in the closet stay here.” He smirked. “I’ll give it to another bitch who will appreciate it.”

Her arms felt heavy. “I wish I never met you,” she yelled.

“Don’t fool yourself, youngin’,” He laughed. “What you gonna do now? Go wash the draws of block soldiers who I own?” he paused. “Try finding another nigga with horses on his property. You will come back running and when you do I won’t let your ass in.”

So many tears welled in her eyes that she couldn’t see straight. “All I wanted to do was take care of you. To love you.”

“How you gonna take care of me, bitch? I was hardly ever home.”

She looked around the house. “I loved it here.”

“And you’re giving it all up for nothing.”

“Because I’m not for sale,” Lauren said, storming out the house in tears. Having nowhere to go, she called on her long time friend Mario Hernandez. She met him years ago, after her parents were murdered, when they lived in a foster home together and became play brother and sister.

A year later, when they were both eighteen, Mario moved out and got his own place. With no strings attached he invited her to come live with him and she accepted. Because she was fragile, often crying for hours at a time, he didn’t force his feelings on her. Although he had fallen in love with her a long time ago, he kept it a secret and after awhile he found himself in the friend zone with no relief.

When she left Varro, not wanting Mario to take care of her, she resumed her business and her clients couldn’t wait to have her back. She was able to quickly get an apartment of her own.

When Lauren saw the Laundromat approaching from the bus, she stood up and pulled the cord ringing the bell to stop the bus. She discreetly tugged at her jean shorts, and pulled on her plain white t-shirt to allow air pockets into her chest to cool down from the heat. When the bus slowed she grabbed the bag and her purse and walked down the steps.

Once outside she walked toward the Laundromat, while receiving several honks from men thanks to the vivacious curves of her body. Although she wore fitting shorts and a plane t-shirt, Lauren wasn’t attempting to grab attention. She wanted to be comfortable but the body she possessed wouldn’t allow her to go unnoticed.

Once inside she placed her client’s jeans in one washer, his whites in another and his coloreds in the last. With the clothing spinning, she grabbed her purse, removed a book and proceeded to read. She was on the best part of her book when Asher pushed open the glass doors leading into the Laundromat and rushed inside. It was as if he was running for his life.

Scared, she moved toward a large black folding table and hid under it as other patrons ran for safety too. Asher backed into washing machines in the far back of the Laundromat just as a tall handsome man wearing glasses so dark she couldn’t see his eyes, entered.

It was Devonte Harrington.

Devonte was dressed in all black with a yellow gold chain dangling around his neck. At the base of the chain was a medallion that said GOD with so many diamonds you couldn’t see the gold underneath. Behind him were three men— Shaw Kim, an immigrant from China who handled Devonte’s real estate investments, Victor Greco, the son of a black whore and Italian mob boss who facilitated Devonte’s block soldiers. And Chicago Swartz, a bomb specialist, who took pride in doing Devonte’s bloodiest work.

Although not in all black, Devonte’s men whom he called, The Triad, walked behind him as he moved closer to Asher. As Devonte advanced, what was most fascinating to all who observed was this clicking noise he made with his tongue. The tone was ominous and there was something terrifying about him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Asher said with his hands pointed at the ceiling. Everyone in the Laundromat looked on, wondering if he would make it out alive.

“Why did you make me come in here?” Devonte asked calmly. “Why didn’t you do what I asked?”

“I told them what you said, God,” he responded shivering. “But some of them didn’t listen.” When Asher made an attempt to move Devonte clicked his tongue forcing him still.

Slowly Devonte turned his attention to The Triad. “Bring him to me.”

Immediately Kim grabbed his left arm, Greco the right, while Schwartz hung behind them.

With several clicks of his tongue, Devonte walked up to Asher and placed his hands on the sides of his face as if he was a child. “I’ve shown you mercy but I’m getting tired. Really tired,” he continued squeezing his cheeks so hard, that his teeth protruded forward and cut into the flesh of his inner jaw. “If you don’t get those men off my blocks. My blocks,” he said louder. “I will make you and everyone you care about pay.” He released him and blood trickled out of his mouth and splashed onto the floor beneath his feet. “Now get out.”

With his life in tow, Asher scurried away and Devonte turned around and preceded his clicking noises as he made his way toward the door. The Triad followed, where three gorgeous women stood next to the truck, two white and one black.

But when Greco saw Lauren crawling from under the table he walked toward her with a smile on his face…as if nothing happened. “Hey, beautiful,” he said licking his lips. “When you gonna let me sweep you off your feet?”

“What I tell you about flirting with me,” she said waving him off. “I have your jeans in the washer…don’t make me bleach them,” she joked.

He laughed and threw his hands up in the air. “You got it, mami. What were you doing on the floor?” he asked with his wide smile. Greco’s black and Italian heritage made him so attractive some women found his looks offensive. Realizing a man that fine could do nothing but break hearts, they handled him carefully.

“I didn’t know if…you know…” she pointed at the place Asher ran.

He smiled. “That ain’t about nothing, just business.” He looked at a washer that contained his blue boxers. “Damn, girl. I didn’t know you did my clothes in this flea bag ass joint.”

Lauren still shaken up by the scene could barely contain herself. “It’s actually the best one in the city.” She looked at Devonte who was easing into the back of a black Suburban. “Who is that?”

Greco looked at Devonte and back at her. “That’s God…why?”

She frowned. “You call him God?”

“It’s his name,” he said seriously. “Everybody calls him God.”

“Well he seems scary to me,” she said pulling one of the washing machines open.

“Only if you have beef with him.” He joked before looking at the washer again. “But look, ma, I gotta go. Just wanted to say thanks for doing what you do.” He winked and walked toward the exit. “Hit me when they’re done.” He continued as he disappeared.

In that moment she felt like a maid as she moved his wet boxers to the dryer. Trying not to cry, she closed her eyes and envisioned the bigger plan. To own a ranch, live an honest life and have a family of her own. But first things first…so she placed quarters in the dryer and let them roll.

 

 

Lauren and Mario were in his apartment sitting on the sofa drinking vodka out of tiny glass cups. It was a modest one-bedroom crib that was dressed in the usual bachelor fashion— projection screen floor model TV, leather sofas and other furniture in all black.

As always she leaned on the side of his body while his arm draped around the back of her neck as they gazed at the tropical fish in his large tank. “Do you ever get lonely?” Lauren asked.

She reached down to grab one of her throbbing feet to massage it lightly. After washing, folding and ironing Greco’s clothing earlier, which sat in clean bags by the door, she went to Mario’s to chill.

“Lonely?” he asked as he looked down at her wanting to do nothing more than suck her toes. Mario was a full blood Latino and way too handsome to be single…but yet he was.

“Yeah…outside of me I never see you with any bitches,” she looked up at him with her green eyes glistening. “So I want to know if you get lonely.”

He shrugged, stood up and removed the empty glass that sat on the table in front of them. “Loneliness is relative.”

She sat up, pulled her knees toward herself and rubbed her sore toes. “Meaning?”

He shrugged again and placed two ice cubes into her cup and three into his. “I want to spend my life with someone…the right person. But until that comes along I’m going to wait. So when I compare loneliness to what I really desire, I think I’m doing okay. Plus I have strong company in you.”

She giggled. “Well what would she look like?” she asked excitedly. “Your dream girl?”

He handed her a drink and sat in the black recliner, a few feet away from her. She was always snuggling up against him, which drove him up a wall. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to sit next to her, but every time she played with her sore feet, which was often, his dick stiffened. Her cute little toes were more attractive to him then her plump ass and ample breasts.

As he considered her question, he wanted to say that his fantasy woman looked like her. And yet he didn’t want to scare her off— he played the friend game so long he didn’t want to look like a fraud. In his mind when all of the niggas fell by the wayside he would be there…waiting to sweep her off her feet.

“I don’t know how she physically looks,” he said sipping his drink before placing it on the table. He ran his hand through his coal black curly hair. “But I know she’ll have to be loving, independent, smart and driven.”

“Sounds like me.” she laughed.

Silence.

When she felt his strong stare she cleared her throat and said, “Do you know somebody called God in Baltimore?”

Not feeling like talking about another nigga, he grabbed his drink and sat back. “Yeah…why? “

She let out an impatient huff, as if she’d wanted an answer for a minute. “Because I saw him rush up to some dude in the Laundromat today,” she gazed into the living room as if replaying the moment. “I thought he was going to kill him but when he didn’t, I was more scared of him.”

Mario examined her closely. He wasn’t sure, but something told him she was far from afraid. She appeared enamored. Anyway, the last thing he felt like doing was talking about another man but the friend zone didn’t exclude the topic. In order to keep the lie alive he had to talk about anything she wanted. “I know a little about him. Why? You want me to introduce you?”

Although Mario had a full time job as a mechanic, at one point he was involved in the darker side of life so he knew the underlings. But he made an escape just before things got out of control. So the street thugs respected him as Mario the Mechanic…nothing more and nothing less.

“No…he was just interesting to watch.” One of her feet fell from the couch and she rocked it slightly. “He kept making this clicking noise with his mouth. Why?”

How he wished she’d change the questions back to him. “He does that shit to freak niggas out. He runs the Harrington Family… and they actually tried to get me to work for them a year ago.” He looked away from her and at his fish. His jealousy was making his forehead throb. “Lauren, on the real, you’d do well to stay away from dudes like that. He’s bad news and I hear he exploits women. You keep your mind on school and…” When he glanced over at her he was surprised that she was asleep.

Since the gabfest was over, Mario sat his glass down, stood up and moved toward the sofa. For a moment he looked down at her as if he were a stalker who was admiring her from a far. Her soft snoring gave him permission to stare harder than he would in her waking hours.

First he glanced at her feet, then her bare legs that were toned and smooth. Finally his gaze rolled on her belly and her beautiful face. Her long hair was directed in a soft bun and he tickled it a few times until it unraveled and fell along her face.

Licking his lips he bent down and carefully picked her up, like he had many times before. Slowly he walked her to his room and laid her in the middle of his bed. She was still snoring, except louder, which meant she fell deeper into sleep.

Unlike in the past when he would leave her alone, he eased behind her and unzipped his pants, as if they were about to have sex. He removed his long, thick, stiff penis and jerked it a few times as he eyed the curves of her body. Mario imagined that he was inside of her fleshy core, and she had her hands wrapped around his back, clawing at his skin, leaving bloody trails along the way.

When his imagination got the best of him, and he envisioned his head was nestled between her legs as he sucked on her pussy, he squirted nut into his hands. It felt so good that he didn’t notice she stopped snoring.

Slowly she turned her head toward him—her facial expression blank. Since a sheet didn’t cover him he was mortified. If she looked down at his hand she would see the levels of desperation he reached to keep his admiration a secret. If she saw him, he was certain that their friendship would be over.

Instead, still sleepy, she kissed him on the lips and said, “Thanks for taking care of me.” She turned her head back around and snored quietly again. Luckily for him she hadn’t bothered to lower her gaze…she was too exhausted.

“I gotta leave this girl alone,” he said to himself. Sighing in relief he got his freaky ass out of the bed and took a cold shower.

 

 

Lauren stayed over Mario’s like she normally did when they spent long hours together talking about life. Easing out of bed, she sat on the edge for a moment, yawned and walked toward the bathroom. When she opened the door she saw a fresh towel and washcloth on the linen table. Under them was a clean pair of Mario’s sweat pants and a white t-shirt.

Under the pile was also a pair of his boxers but unlike the other clothes he left, he wore the boxers last night after his cold shower. This morning he took them off and folded them so that she wouldn’t know. Just thinking about her pussy being somewhere his dick had been turned him on. Even if she sniffed the boxers she would never know he wore them because they still smelled fresh.

When she saw the love he put into taking care of her, she grinned and took a hot shower. And then for some reason a flash of Devonte entered her mind and she shook her head.

Why do you haunt me? She thought.

He was everything she knew she should steer clear of but she’d been intrigued and horrified by him at the same time. To the point where her pussy juiced up while she ran the washcloth within the folds of her vagina. With Devonte on her mind she allowed herself to cum in Mario’s shower and instead of feeling ashamed, she felt relief.

When she was done she thought about her best friend. Although Mario wasn’t her type she didn’t know why. Unconsciously Lauren was attracted to a harder dude and Mario didn’t meet her standards. He was too passive and in her opinion she’d run all over him. But if she could see herself as his woman she would’ve chosen him a long time ago. He was ride or die for her and she was certain he’d never hurt her feelings. But the idea of them being together stayed in the background, never being mentioned by either of them.

After she showered she walked into the living room where Mario was sleeping peacefully on the sofa. She slid up to him, lowered her body and kissed him on his warm cheek. He arose as if he were sleeping beauty and gazed into her eyes. She smiled down at him and said, “Thanks for the fresh clothes.”

He grinned thinking about his underwear. With a serious face he asked, “You got the boxers too right?”

She pulled down the front band of the sweat pants and showed him the Hanes symbol. At first his dick jumped thinking he was about to get a glimpse of her pussy.

“Yep…” she winked. “And for your hospitality I’m going to cook you breakfast.”

As she walked over to the refrigerator he watched her ass that jiggled even under his clothes. He wanted them boxers back dirty the moment she was done. Pulling the fridge’s door she said, “Damn, Mario ain’t shit in here.” She frowned and closed it before moving over to her purse. “I’m gonna walk to 7-Eleven right quick and grab some eggs, salsa and bacon.” She tossed it over her arm.

He stood up. “Nah…let me take you. You don’t need to be walking when I got a car.”

“I’m good,” she said playfully hitting him on the arm. “Plus I haven’t worked out today and could use the exercise.” He was still moving toward his car keys. “Mario, it’s only up the block.”

He observed how sexy she looked in the basic clothing and imagined a million niggas trying to get at her. But he told himself they were friends and friends rarely contested. Besides, what was he going to say? I don’t want you to go because I don’t want nobody trying to get at the pussy that I don’t even own? Instead he said, “Aight. Whatever you want.”

 

 

Lauren was heading back to Mario’s after buying the food and snacks she knew he liked. Before leaving Mario’s house earlier, she told Greco that he could pick up his clothes from her there. The call came in at the right time because he was going to a club later and needed fresh gear.

As she walked down the block, a pair of headphones covered her ears that were connected to the CD player in her purse. She was playing “Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child on repeat, and trying to get to the apartment before Greco did.

When she reached a flashing pedestrian walk sign, she waited for the signal to proceed. Just then a white Yukon blocked her path— the front tire spilled on the curb, inches from her foot.

Her heart dropped.

It was Varro and he had no respect for the law or her safety.

“Get in the car, Lauren,” he said as he eyed the clothing he was sure belonged to another man. It had been six months since they’d broken up and he was angry with her for successfully moving on. Most women would’ve been back on bended knees after having been given the world.

Not Lauren.

She glanced at the truck and then looked away really quickly, trying to pretend she didn’t see him. When the sign changed she walked around the front of the vehicle and toward Mario’s. She snatched the headphones off her ears and tossed them into her purse, figuring it was best to pay attention.

Feeling disrespected, all six-foot-five inches of Varro climbed out of the truck and towered over her shorter frame. “Did you hear what the fuck I said?” He grabbed her arm, forcing her to drop the bag in the middle of the crosswalk.

She snatched her arm away, picked up the bag now filled with cracked eggs and said, “Get back into your truck, drive to the bridge and go over the edge, nigga! I’m done with you!” She balled up her fist, hit him in the middle of the chest and stormed off. Although her heart thumped like a Texas drum major, she didn’t let him know she was afraid.

Varro didn’t heed her warning right away. Instead he stood in the middle of the street with a wide stance, watching her walk away. Finally when a bus beeped him out, he rolled his eyes at the driver and stomped toward the truck before getting inside and pulling off.

Lauren on the other hand hustled toward Mario’s apartment quickly. She didn’t like the way he looked at her and sensed danger. When she made it onto the street in front of Mario’s building, Mario opened the window five floors up and looked down at her.

Smiling he said, “Damn, Lauren! You got me in this bitch hungry as shit!” he laughed. “’Bout time you came back.” But when he saw the horror on her face the joke was over. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you in a second,” She said trembling.

That was the first time Varro had approached her since the break up and up until that point she thought he moved on. Learning that he didn’t after all this time made her feel queasy.

Impatiently she waited for the walk sign. When it changed she entered the crosswalk just as Varro’s truck came from the right and smacked into her. Lauren’s body flew up in the air, slammed into the grille of Varro’s vehicle before sliding to the ground. There was so much blood that she was unrecognizable. Everything in the bag was on the ground— the eggs smashed into the concrete.

Mario screamed as he saw Varro grinning, before pulling away, with her blood on his truck.