Ahmeek’s mood had soured. Seeing Morgan and the twins unnerved him. His gut pulled at him.
“You’re quiet,” Livi said as she sat in his passenger seat.
He leaned against his door, whipping the BMW with one hand as he kept his eyes on the road. “I’m good.”
“Are you, Meek? Cuz you been acting real shitty since we left the mall,” she snapped. “And FYI, I don’t appreciate you and your ex having hushed conversations. The shit was mad rude and disrespectful.”
“Yo, you doing a lot,” Ahmeek stated. “Let me drop yo’ ass off.”
Livi folded her arms across her chest and huffed her displeasure. “I thought we were making progress, Meek. One glance at this bitch, and you back on your bullshit.”
“Ain’t no progress with me. I told you about asking me for tomorrow. All I got is today to give,” he said.
“But she gets tomorrow?” Livi asked.
“She ain’t ya’ concern,” he snapped.
“Fuck you, nigga. Take me home. You got me fucked up. I have feelings. I’m not some bird out here. I enjoy you, but I don’t want to date casually anymore. I want to settle down. I want to get married…”
The frown that crossed his face couldn’t be stopped. “I ain’t with none of that. You know that. Where the fuck is this shit coming from? Cuz we ain’t never kept that type of time, Livi.”
“We could, though. We could be good together if you’d let us,” she whispered. “I saw how you looked at her. I’ve known ever since that night in the club. When she’s around, it’s like nothing else even matters. I’ve been down for years. Why don’t you feel that for me?”
Ahmeek blew out a sharp breath. He pulled the car over and threw it in park, then turned to her. Livi was stubborn, so she didn’t let her tears fall. She was pretty as hell. A little bad, redbone, with wide eyes and flawless everything. His type. His type before Morgan.
“Look. If I was disrespectful, I apologize. You’re a good woman, Liv. You are. You got your shit together. Your salon and shit. You on your hustle. You’re smart and low-key. I fuck with it. I enjoy your vibe, but we were cruising. We were after the club with it, real casual with it. Good sex, a little shopping and breakfast. You’ve never even been to my crib. Now you telling me you want to marry me, and that ain’t supposed to scare a nigga?”
“Not now, Meek! I’m not saying I want a ring tomorrow. I’m just saying I’m not the type of girl to just do this shit for fun. I want to build toward something with a man, not just have sex. I’d like to do that with you. I know what it’s been between us, but I’m telling you my feelings are involved, and I’d like for it to be more. Anything that isn’t growing is dead, Meek. You growing with Morgan Atkins?”
Her question dug a hole straight through him. He had no response. He pulled in a deep breath. All this back and forth gave him a headache. He swiped a hand down his face as he rubbed his beard.
“This is getting heavy, Liv,” he said. “The timing is bad. What you want and what I can give right now … it don’t match.”
“Then take me home,” she said. “Cuz now that I see what you’ll give the next bitch that ain’t even half of me, I want more.”
Ahmeek nodded and merged back into traffic. The ride was silent. Tense. Awkward. Something they had never been. He hated that women did this. Compared. Measured. He couldn’t give Livi what he gave Morgan. He hadn’t even known he could give it to Mo until he’d experienced her for himself. He wanted to settle down, he did. He wanted to exit the game, but damn if he hadn’t built the frame in his mind and inserted Morgan’s picture inside. She was already a part of the picture in his mind of how good life should be. Every time he made a run, touched a brick, hit a semi, or spoke to Hak, he had her in the back of his mind. She had become his motivation. Morgan had become the goal. To do it a while longer so he could eventually come out on the other side with her on his arm. Could he replace her? If Morgan never came back around, could he open up to the possibility of Livi or perhaps a woman he had yet to meet being “the one”? He wasn’t in the business of making women feel like they were being shortchanged. He enjoyed spending time with Livi, but her ticket had just gone up. She had upped the price on him when she discovered he was valuing another more than her, and because of that, the casualness of a fling was no longer enough. He pulled up to her home, the downtown one-bedroom condo she had purchased for herself.
Ahmeek scratched his head as his brow hiked in confusion. Shit had just been good, and now it wasn’t. They had been smooth, and now because of a run-in at the local mall, their night was full of emotional turbulence.
“Yo, Liv. I didn’t know it was like that for you. Serious. I didn’t know you were getting serious,” he stammered.
“Sticking around watching you give love and commitment to someone else, meanwhile all I get is a handbag or two and a trip to Benihana. I’m not a back-burner type of girl. I’ll pass, but thanks, babe; it’s been fun.”
A bad bitch, indeed. Livi slid out of his passenger seat and closed the door before strutting into the lobby of her building.
Meek wondered if he was a fool. To give up the potential that could exist between him and Livi. He was hung up on Morgan. He wished he had stuck to his guns and kept his distance from her. Two years had gone by before he had been in the same space as she had, and at first sight, she had affected him. Those sad eyes had pulled him in, and he had been stuck ever since. Meek idled on the curb of Livi’s building as the seconds ticked away and he stroked his chin. A million thoughts ran through his head. To stay or pull away. Livi was as good as any. She was beautiful. Another man would have staked a claim a long time ago.
She ain’t her, though.
Meek put his car in drive and pulled off.
Morgan heard the key slide into the lock of the front door, and she stood. Eager eyes watched him cross over the threshold, and when he looked at her, she closed her eyes to savor the seconds that passed as he took her in. She fluttered them open, and he was still across the room. The blank expression on his face made Morgan wring her fingers in anxiety.
“You said to come to where I got the shirt from. I got it from you,” she said. Her voice barely worked. She had prayed he would come home. She had hoped he wouldn’t stay out with Livi. That he wouldn’t fuck Livi.
God, don’t let him love Livi.
“Where are the twins?” he asked.
“Ethic’s,” she answered.
Ahmeek’s jaw clenched, and he ran both hands down his wavy head. “You say one thing and do another, Morgan Atkins. The circles I don’t love, Mo.”
He stayed on his side of the room. He was thinking real hard. She could see him. Weighing the options of what her presence meant in his head.
“I ain’t fucking with it,” he said.
Morgan deflated. The air left her. It wasn’t what she had expected to hear.
Ahmeek tossed his keys on the table near the door and crossed the room, passing her. Morgan couldn’t even speak as he ignored her. He pulled open his Sub-Zero refrigerator and pulled out a Heineken and then bypassed Morgan again as he headed to the couch.
“So you’re going to ignore me?” she asked, voice small.
“Fuck you here for, Mo, huh?” he asked.
His tone stunned her.
“I just wanted to see you … to … I don’t know … seeing you with … you said to come…” Morgan was searching for an explanation.
“I fucked over a good girl for you today,” he said.
“Fuck her,” Morgan said. “I don’t care about her.”
“What about me? Huh? How you feel about me?” he asked.
“You know how I feel about you,” she defended.
“I know you stay bullshitting. I know Livi don’t bullshit. I dismissed a bitch today that’ll lace up her boots and ride with a nigga over anybody. When I asked myself why I’d give that up, the shit didn’t even make sense. I don’t do shit that don’t make sense.”
“So, you want her?” Morgan asked. She held her breath because she knew Ahmeek wouldn’t lie to her. If he desired Livi, he would let it be known. He wouldn’t deny it to protect her feelings. Deceit just wasn’t his game. He put his cards on the table faceup every time. If he said yes, Morgan would be destroyed.
“Nah, but she want me, and I ain’t got to second-guess the shit. I ain’t got to think about her with other niggas. I ain’t got to stop myself from killing a mu’fucka behind her, cuz she solid,” Ahmeek stated.
Morgan didn’t know what to say. His praise of Livi made her sick to her stomach. She had no defense. She couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t right. She couldn’t convince herself that he deserved her half-commitment. She may not be with him all the time physically, but he owned every part of her. If only he could measure the loyalty of her heart. He had no idea how much of it he occupied. She was just in a jam, a trap, a maze that she couldn’t find her way out of, and she couldn’t ask for help. It was something she had to figure out alone. She understood his impatience. It didn’t stop it from hurting, however.
“I want you,” Morgan said. “It’s more than a want, Ahmeek. I dream about you every night. Having you in my life in this way—” She paused. “It was never supposed to happen. It’s fucked up, and it crosses so many lines, but it’s like a dream. The way you make me feel is…” She closed her eyes. “I want you, Ahmeek.”
Ahmeek tilted the green beer bottle to his lips. “You like to play with a nigga head, Morgan. With your back and forth. You in and out with it. You make a man feel like he on top of the world. Love on a nigga real good. Say all the right shit. Stroke his ego, put pussy on him, scream his name, smile at him like you can’t see shit else,” Ahmeek stated. He sat with legs wide, beer tilted to his lips and not even looking her. His eyes were on the floor as he inventoried the things she had done to him. “Then you go back home to another man. Then you compare me to Messiah like I ain’t loving you with everything I got, like what I been doing ain’t shit—”
“It’s everything,” Morgan interrupted. She crossed the room and straddled him, removing the beer bottle from his hands. He was uncooperative as he leaned back against the couch. “Nobody compares to you. I don’t love anyone the way that I love you. I’ve felt a lot of things for a lot of people before, but never this. I love Messiah, I do; I can’t help that or stop that. It’s a history I can’t rewrite. Even if I could, I don’t know if I would because I wouldn’t know you, Ahmeek. If I didn’t hurt with him, I wouldn’t know what it feels like to heal with you. I have a situation with Bash. It feels like I can’t help that or stop that either. I’m sorry about all of that, but none of that stops me from thinking about you. I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t, because I’m wasting you, but every day, I think about you. Every day, I dream about you. Every other man that you think I put over you has created storms in my life. You’re the calm. You’re my peace. I just can’t get to you.”
Ahmeek’s head was leaned against the back of the couch, and Morgan leaned into him, resting her head over his shoulder. Ahmeek pulled her closer, one hand to the back of her neck, the other to the small of her back. He was so lenient with her. Hard to the world, fucking soft with this one girl. He hated it. His body went rigid as he slid Morgan out of his lap.
“Ahmeek…”
“You should go home to your fiancé, Morgan. Or Messiah. Or whoever you belong to, cuz it ain’t me.”
“I don’t know how to respond to you when you’re like this.”
“Ain’t shit to say. Show me. You staying or you going back to your nigga, Mo? Cuz unless you about that action, all these words are just words. You selling niggas dreams. I told you how I was going to be behind you. I will murder that nigga, Morgan. I don’t want to because it’s reckless, and it’s out of emotion, not necessity, but I will—but then what? Then there’s Messiah. A nigga you telling me you still love and one I can’t just put down. I can’t erase him, Morgan, cuz I love that nigga. He is me. A blood pact at ten fucking years old. The nigga DNA is somewhere in me. You got me out here at war with my man over you, and I’m like, fuck it, cuz you worth fighting for, but you ain’t even fucking here. You ain’t even mine. You ain’t nobody’s, Mo. You for everybody.”
Morgan recoiled. He didn’t even mean for the insult to land so viciously. He hadn’t even meant to say it. It wasn’t how he felt. Wasn’t how he looked at her, but somewhere in her soul, Morgan connected those words with her self-worth. He saw the injury his words caused, and he immediately wanted to take them back. It wasn’t like him to speak without thinking. Especially with her. His anger had gotten the best of him. Only Morgan could make him lose control this way.
“Wow,” she uttered in disbelief.
A knock at the door made Morgan turn, and her gut hollowed when Livi peeked in.
“Hey, Meek, I got your text. I—”
Morgan turned tear-filled eyes back to him. Livi. He had invited Livi to his loft. Her loft. Their motherfucking loft. He had never brought a girl home before. That’s what Ms. Marilyn had said, yet here Livi stood. Morgan knew it was a double standard, but she couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Her feelings were on the shiny hardwood floors they were so hurt.
“Am I interrupting something?” Livi asked.
“Nah, you not interrupting anything, sis. He’s all yours. Thanks for letting me know how you feel. I’m done.” Morgan’s voice quivered as she looked at Ahmeek.
“I been done.” He hated that his pride offered up the response. There was a hint of regret in his eyes, and he bit his bottom lip before looking away from her. He knew if she walked out that door, it was over, and the throbbing in his chest was begging him to stop her. The pit in his stomach was screaming for her. The girl he loved had hurt him, and he was purposefully trying to hurt her back. His ego was bigger than every emotion in the room. So much so that even the prickling of Morgan’s eyes didn’t force him to back down. He was on some bullshit, and he knew it and he didn’t stop it. He was destroying her simply to break the connection they shared. Her eyes pleaded with him, but Ahmeek couldn’t take more nights of lying in bed without her by his side. He could barely get through his days without killing anyone because she had him trapped in an emotional well so deep that he was drowning. When he was here and she was there, life felt like a prison sentence, and he needed to break free. He knew it hurt her because it made a grown man feel like crying, but if she wasn’t going to stay for good, then he had to end it.
The devastation he saw in her eyes made him feel like shit. Seconds felt like an eternity as he memorized her in this moment. Such a beautiful fucking girl. The outside was obvious. The inside of her, the most magnificent part, was so opulent it beamed through, reaching the darkest places. Touching the pits, the shadows, the heartless … men like Messiah. Men like him. They gravitated to Morgan because after being in the dark for their whole lives, the light felt miraculous. He fucking loved this girl. He would have taken good care of her. Ahmeek would have given it his all to try to be what she needed. Her only crime was allowing others to lead her instead of following her heart. He sniffed and flicked his nose as Morgan turned, walking right past Livi, who stood smirking at the door. Morgan may not have been able to end it, but Ahmeek certainly was capable, and he had. It destroyed them both.
“You always wanted to wrap a ball and chain around a nigga leg?” Isa asked. Aria paused mid-stroke, turning to him with the paintbrush in her hand.
“Is that what I’m doing?” Aria asked, chuckling.
“I mean, yeah. Dealing with one woman for the rest of my life sound a little bit like prison. Same four walls for the rest of my life. That’s a life sentence for my dick,” Isa stated.
Aria laughed from her soul. “You make it sound horrible!” she exclaimed. “Why would you ask me to marry you if this is how you feel about it?”
Isa kicked one foot up on the coffee table in front of him as one hand went behind his head and the other hand brought a lit blunt to his lips. He took his time answering her. Brows bent. Deep in thought.
“That was the price of admission, and I wanted in,” Isa answered.
Aria bent down and dipped her paintbrush into the red paint. She turned to the wall. She didn’t know how she felt about him marrying her for such shallow reasons. “So love had nothing to do with it. Wow. Doesn’t seem like a good reason to choose someone forever.”
Isa heard her feelings crack as if they had shattered all over the floor. He knew he wasn’t a Prince Charming type. He came off callous and cold. His love language hadn’t been discovered yet. It definitely wasn’t one out of the book he saw Aria reading at night. His love language was protection. He guarded everything that meant something to him. Aria was an asset in his life; therefore, she had a shooter on her team. Before she even knew he would wage wars over her, it was already established. He knew she would be something special when he first saw her onstage, and when she gave him attitude while walking by him all those years ago, Isa knew she had potential. The chase had been a plus because it proved she wasn’t easy. She was a challenge, and when he finally caught her, he realized she was a diamond among stones. You protect a jewel. Especially the rare ones, so Isa went into beast mode with her. Any other nigga that got close got snuffed, because she was his whether she knew it or not. His way might not have been conventional, but it was his expression of love. He didn’t have a mushy bone in his body. If she wanted romance, he wasn’t the one for her, but that protection she had for life. He rose from the couch and walked up behind her. He wrapped tattooed arms around her small frame, bending some because she was so short.
“Stop, Isa,” she said softly. Yeah, she was upset. Aria didn’t do anything soft. She hid behind a tough-girl façade.
“You know what it is with us, Ali,” Isa said, moving her hair out the way so he could kiss the back of her neck. He bit her, teeth sinking into her shoulder just enough to cause a slight pinch. “Don’t you?”
She turned to him and took the paintbrush and painted a wide smile on his face.
He grimaced and nodded before bringing the blunt to his lips, then puffed it between red paint, staining the tip. She laughed.
“You stay on bullshit,” he said, tilting his head back and blowing smoke into the air.
“You on some clown shit; thought I’d put your face on for you,” Aria stated. “Don’t be evasive with me. I always knew I’d either marry for love or marry for money. I’m not against either—just let me know what it is. If all I am is sex to you, then you can be my bank.”
Fire danced in his eyes. The equivalent to reducing her to a loveless wife was reducing him to a lick.
“Don’t like that, huh?” Aria asked.
“I ain’t tricked on a bitch ever,” Isa stated.
“I ain’t been a bitch ever, baby. You tricking on a queen, paying me for my time, or you loving me? You tell me what we’re doing,” Aria stated.
Isa reached around her body and palmed her ass. “I’m loving you, Ali. Now quit talking reckless before you make me mad.” He leaned into her, paint everywhere. Red. The color she hated. All over her neck as he planted a kiss there.
“Go wash your face.” Aria laughed.
“Come wash it for me.” He picked her up, hands under her ass as Aria dropped the paintbrush. His lips on hers. She didn’t even care that he was getting paint everywhere. That she tasted it a bit as he carried her to the bathroom.
He placed her on her feet, then took a step back before pulling his fitted white tee over his head. Isa’s light skin was covered. Crew shit, affiliation pieces, tributes to Aria, guns, Jesus, you name it—Isa had it tattooed on him. It looked like someone had come to tag him. He was skinny—frail, even—but as he stepped out of his Gucci jeans, he revealed all his weight. Dick like that made Aria coy. She would never get used to the size of him.
“I hate you so much,” she moaned as he closed the lid and took a seat. He was completely nude except for Nike socks, and Aria smiled, shaking her head. She had no idea how she had ended up with his ghetto ass, but she was enjoying the ride. Every single minute with Isa was a roller coaster. Their love for each other was a thrill. If they ever ended, Aria would struggle to find this much stimulation in a different man. The challenge was incredible.
“Come show me how much,” Isa said. Red paint still smeared his face and now decorated hers too.
Aria toed her way to him and straddled him. She wore his boxers. A habit. A bad one, according to him. “I don’t want to see all that ass in no drawers, Ali,” he would fuss. Tonight, he didn’t seem to mind.
“Yo, take these off,” he ordered. Aria stood, turned her back to him, then slid them down. Before she knew it, his large hands were around her waist. She yelped in surprise as he lifted her onto him. “Spell something on it.”
F-U-C-K-U-B-O-Y
Aria wound her hips around the curve of every letter.
Isa smacked her ass so hard Aria clenched her teeth. “Fuck you too,” he answered. “You ain’t slick.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to read.” She laughed.
D-A-G-O-D
“That’s right, Ali,” he moaned as she made light work of him. “Shit so good, baby. Swimming in chocolate. It’s wet and sweet.”
Aria moved her body as if she were putting together eight counts, and the friction of his fingers in the right places made her called out his name. “Isa, baby!”
“All on that dick like a good girl, Ali,” he groaned.
She came first. It was one fight Isa didn’t mind losing. He took his time, picking her up again and then bending her over the sink, snickering as he looked in the mirror at his red face. He slapped her ass again. Payback for the clown shit. He was putting dick in Aria so good his name was bouncing off the walls. Her cries took him all the way, and he didn’t even care to pull out. She was his. She said no babies. He said fuck it.
“Isaaa!” she protested, standing and spinning to punch him.
“Got to know you up real good. Put a baby in you and that’s mine forever,” he stated, laughing because he knew she was pissed.
He pecked her lips and then made his way to the shower as Aria sat down on the toilet to pee. She shook her head in distress, reminding herself to get on birth control as soon as possible because otherwise, messing around with Isa, she’d be somebody’s baby mama in the near future.
“Boy, if you don’t get your ass up and clean this mess up, you better. I don’t care if you bought this loft; you know better than this,” Marilyn fussed as she made her way from the front door to the kitchen. Ahmeek groaned as he rubbed a hand down his face. He had just gone to bed two hours ago. A night of fucking his feelings away with a girl he hardly cared for, he had forgotten all about Sunday breakfast. Marilyn frowned as she turned to the refrigerator and found the pair of thong panties clipped to the magnet. “Now I know damn well these ain’t Morgan’s.”
Her voice was so loud. Like nails on a chalkboard. He hadn’t drunk like this in years. A hangover plagued him as he stood from the couch where he had given in to sleep.
“Morgan isn’t a thing no more, Ma,” Ahmeek said.
“Morgan is the thing that led to these empty bottles, these tacky panties, and that sad look on your face, boy,” Marilyn said. “Come get rid of these trifling thangs and clean this mess up so I can cook.”
Ahmeek didn’t protest. He scratched the top of his head in irritation, but he knew better than to vocalize it. Ms. Marilyn was the real gangster between them. “Let me hit a shower and get myself together first. I’ll be right back,” he said.
He dressed quickly, showering and brushing his teeth before emerging.
“I told you that young girl was going to run circles around you,” Marilyn snickered. “Little Morgan Atkins.” She shook her head. “Who do the panties belong to?”
“Just some girl I see from time to time, Ma. Don’t make it a big deal,” Ahmeek answered.
“Oh, I know it isn’t a big deal. I know you better than you know yourself. You’re moping around here because Morgan done hurt your feelings, and you trying to be tough, act like you the man and you can just replace her. You can deal with ten women after her, and it won’t make you want her less, Ahmeek. I’ve seen you with her. She brings out my little boy. Not the man you became too fast. You laugh with her. You smile with her. You’re better for her. Don’t run around tangling yourself up in temporary flings thinking it’s going to replace somebody that made you think about forever.”
“Mo ain’t forever, Ma. She won’t let it be that. What I’m supposed to do? Sit back and wait?” Ahmeek asked.
“She’s a baby, Ahmeek. She’s not where you are mentally,” Marilyn said.
“She’s engaged,” Ahmeek answered.
“And she’s not ready for whoever she’s engaged to or to be what you’re ready for her to be,” Marilyn said. “She hasn’t lived. If you love her, you have to let her learn to use her wings. You might have to watch her love another. Might have to watch her lose another. Maybe she’ll contact you every now and then, maybe she won’t. You got to give that baby time to grow. If what I felt between the two of you is as potent as it seemed, she’ll come back to you one day. You can’t rush her transformation, son. Every man who has ever tried to do that to any woman has been left disappointed.”
Ahmeek was silent as he processed his mother’s words. Maybe it wasn’t their time. Perhaps time had to pass for them to catch each other at the exact moment when serendipity would cut them a break. That was hard on a man like Ahmeek, who was used to having what he wanted, when he wanted. He couldn’t guarantee he would wait. In fact, he was sure he wouldn’t. His pride wouldn’t let him, but his heart wouldn’t soon forget little Morgan. Loving her would be a nostalgia he craved for a while. Some women were simply irreplaceable.