I’m calling you daddy, daddy
Can you be my daddy, daddy
Come and make it rain down onnnn meeee
Isa sat on the leather couch. He sank into the plush cushions as he held the Styrofoam cup in his hand. His neck was lazy, and he let it rest against the pillows as his low eyes hawked her. Ali. Chocolate ass. Little ass. He would war with any nigga over her. She was a soldier. His most loyal. The shit he felt for her he would never speak, but she knew. She had chosen him over her blood family, and for that, Isa would always be hers to command. Whatever she wanted. He’d wet niggas up to go get it. Every time. Whatever lil’ baby wanted, lil’ baby would receive. She moved her body to precision. That ass sat high and fucking round as she rode the beat. She laced that bitch like her body was one with the music. He hardly noticed Morgan next to her. Ali was all he saw. She was truth over a lifetime full of bullshit.
“One, two, three, four … on every offbeat, you pop, Mo,” Aria instructed while showing her the move, executing it with nothing less than perfection.
Morgan shook the fog from her mind as she tried to keep up with the choreography.
“What’s up, Mo? You distracted like hell,” Aria said.
“I know,” Morgan admitted. “Run it back.”
They practiced in Isa’s basement. Isa refused to let Aria back in the studio, so he had turned his entire basement into one. Mirrors had been installed as well as hardwood floors.
“Uncle Isa, let’s playyyyy!” Messari yelled as he jumped all over Isa’s luxury furniture.
“Ssari, no. Feet belong on the floor,” Morgan chastised.
“Get yo’ stiletto-wearing ass on somewhere,” Isa said. “Come on, Yolly. Let’s fuck up some furniture.” Isa bent down to scoop Yara from the floor and then stood on top of his own sofa. “Hop all over this bitch, lil’ nigga,” Isa said. “Fuck what yo’ mama mean-ass talking about.”
He took one of the pillows and tossed it at Messari. His little body went flying, Isa hit him so hard.
“Hey!” Messari shouted. “Mommy, him hit me!”
“Quit snitching,” Isa said, popping Messari again. “Man up, G. A nigga hit you, you hit him back. Ain’t that right, Yolly?” he asked. Yara laughed as Isa handed her a pillow. “Hit his ass.”
Yara tossed the pillow in delight.
“Hey!”
Isa pushed him down, and Messari scrambled up. He laughed as he grabbed a pillow and tossed it at Isa.
“This nigga is a big kid. Be careful with my boyfriend,” Aria said. “I’ma beat ya’ ass if he gets hurt, Isa.”
The pillow that met the side of her head shut her up instantly.
“See, you want me to fuck you up,” Aria said.
Yara giggled away in Isa’s arms, and Aria stole her away as Messari attacked Isa.
“That’s right. You don’t let nobody punk you,” Isa said, using an open palm to slap the side of Messari’s face. He used just enough force to knock him off balance. “Psk, psk,” Isa antagonized.
“My baby is not a dog, Isa!” Morgan shouted.
“Shut up, Mo. You gon’ have my lil’ nigga soft. His daddy already pussy. I got this,” Isa protested as Messari got up and charged at him. “That’s right. Buck up, lil’ nigga.” Morgan shook her head as Messari went toe-to-toe with Isa. Messari got knocked down repeatedly, but he got up every time. There was no doubt about it, there was not a single ounce of bitch in his blood.
Isa snickered as he antagonized Messari.
“Uncle Isa, stop it!” Messari shouted. He ran up on Isa, and Isa pushed him down again.
Isa was getting the best of Messari, and Morgan could see her son’s eyes welling in frustration.
“Isa!” Aria shouted.
“That’s enough, Isa,” Morgan warned. “I swear if you push my baby one more time.”
“He got it, Mo. This gangster business right here, and yo’ crybaby ass ain’t a gangster,” Isa teased.
“She got hittas, though, nigga. Don’t get fucked up,” Meek said as he descended the basement stairs.
Morgan’s entire body steeled.
“Meek!” Messari shouted as he scrambled from the couch. His little legs couldn’t carry him to Meek quickly enough. “Him hit me!”
Ahmeek bent to scoop Messari. “You hit him back?” Ahmeek asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” Messari said.
“Show me how hard,” Ahmeek said, holding up one open hand.
Messari threw the hardest punch his little body could, and as soon as his little hand connected with Meek’s, Meek took that hand and slapped Isa with it.
“That’s how you get with these bitch-ass niggas out here, lil’ homie,” Ahmeek stated.
Aria hollered in laughter as Messari high-fived Ahmeek and hugged his neck tightly.
“Damn, nigga,” Isa complained. “I should shoot the shit out ya’ ass,” he snickered. “You know I’m light-skinned. Got yo’ mu’fuckin’ handprint on my shit like I’m a bitch out here.”
Ahmeek laughed as he slapped hands with Isa and pulled him in as they tapped shoulders. Isa rustled Messari’s head.
“You lucky yo’ backup came, nephew.”
Messari hugged Ahmeek tighter, hiding from Isa.
Morgan’s entire body froze. It was a sin to love someone the way she loved him. Ahmeek didn’t even look her way. Her last words to him had been so cruel she couldn’t say she blamed him.
“Okkayyy,” Aria said, cutting through the awkward vibes in the room. “Let’s get focused, Mo. You been fucking up all day. We could have been done. I’m gonna run it back.”
Aria handed Yara to Isa, and Ahmeek stepped back. He still held Messari as he made room for Aria and Morgan to finish their routine.
The music started, and Morgan turned on. She had been so distracted before, she’d missed every step the first few rounds of practicing. With Meek’s attention on her, she was flawless. He was pretending not to watch her, but she knew he hadn’t missed a beat, because if he loved nothing else about her … he loved when she danced, and Mo was showing out. Whenever he was in the room, the stakes tripled. She loved to see the look in his eyes. It was more than lust. It was pride.
By the time the song ended, Morgan was sweating she had danced so hard. Her heavy breathing made her chest rise and fall.
“That’s all that ass you carrying around that got you tired like that,” Aria teased. Morgan blushed. The music changed, and Aria turned up the volume. Music lived in her soul, and her moods fluctuated with the harmonies of her day.
See I don’t need n’aan nigga jocking me,
slowing me down and stopping me
Climbing all on top of me,
if he ain’t gon’ fuck me properly
“Don’t write no check that ass can’t cash, Ali,” Isa said as he snatched her by the waist, pulling her to the couch.
“That’s a bit much for them, yo,” Meek stated, nodding to the twins as he picked up the remote control and pressed the arrow skipping the song. “Trina got to keep that bad-bitch shit to herself.”
“Mmkay, Meek. Look out for your babies, boy. You better step!” Aria snickered.
“Slapping niggas behind they asses,” Isa snickered as he lifted his red cup to his lips. He tapped Aria on the ass, and she pulled away from him as the next song faded in.
The song changed, and a sensual mood filled the air as Vedo crooned through the speaker system.
Yeah I like when she get nasty,
but I love when she keep it classy.
It was Morgan’s turn to choreograph, and it was so natural for her to slow down the tempo.
“Shit’s ridiculous, yo,” Ahmeek muttered, shaking his head. She had him. Caught his ass right in her web. He could ignore everything about her except this … when she made her body move like this … when she made art of her body like this. Like fucking this. Morgan danced her heart out because she knew he liked it. She knew he loved it. His eyes on her made Morgan give her all. She never held back when he was watching. He was all the audience she needed. His support made her feel beautiful. He took her in differently than other men did. His gaze wasn’t lust filled but awe filled, like he appreciated the effort it took for her to put the count together.
Do it nasty, do it, do it nasty, she gon’ do it nasty.
“These mu’fuckas,” Isa snickered as he rose from his seat. “Come on, bruh.” The fellas moved to a different part of the basement, allowing the girls to finish their rehearsal. Aria and Morgan put on unbelievable performances. They were a package deal, and a valuable one. They set every stage they ever graced on fire.
They practiced for an hour before wrapping up. When they were done, Morgan walked to the next room. She knocked on the doorframe, and all conversation ceased.
“Come on, guys,” she both signed and spoke. “Time to go.”
Ahmeek didn’t even look at her. There was so much she wanted to say to him. So much to explain, only she couldn’t. Bash didn’t even know where she was. If he had any clue she was rehearsing for a Stiletto Gang show, he would have a fit. If he knew Ahmeek was present, he would ruin her life. Morgan was walking a tightrope here. She couldn’t spare Ahmeek’s feelings. Their time had come, and it had passed. There was nothing else to be done. It didn’t stop it from hurting, however.
“Tell everyone bye.”
It tugged at her heart the way her children hugged both men before they came to her.
“A’ight, Mo. I’ll see you, sis,” Isa said without looking as he stayed focused on the money on the table.
“You’re coming to graduation, right?” The question was for Isa, but she hoped Ahmeek answered. She prayed he would come. She didn’t know why she wanted him there. They weren’t even on speaking terms, but she wanted to share the moment with him, needed him to witness her accomplishment. She missed him so much. There was an incredible void in her life without him. Above all else, she missed the way he looked at her. His stare was so full of pride and appreciation. He hyped her up like nobody else, and she wanted him to root for her as she walked across the stage. He didn’t speak, however. Didn’t even glance her way. He focused on the twins. Tying Messari’s shoe and then accepting a hug from him before sending him on his way. No acknowledgment for Mo.
“Ssari, grab your sister’s hand, and go up the stairs slowly,” Morgan said as she grabbed her gym bag and then reached for her purse as well as the twins’ bag. “Come on, Ssari, let’s go. Help Yolly.”
She felt Ahmeek relieving her of the bags before grabbing Yara and heading up the stairs. She felt his disdain.
He hates me.
The thought broke her in half. She wished that things could be different. There were so many things, so many outsiders that kept them apart. Morgan helped Messari make it to the top of the staircase and followed Ahmeek to her car. Once the twins were strapped in and safe, Morgan started the car, then turned to Ahmeek. He stood outside her window, gripping the roof, leaning down like he wanted to say something, and then he stood up straight. He ran one hand down his head, and Morgan climbed from the car. She could see every bit of angst he felt. She was the cause, but she couldn’t be the cure. Restraint was the hardest thing she had ever had to show. He turned to leave, and Morgan reached for him, catching the bottom of his shirt. He looked back at her, biting his bottom lip as his brow dipped. He was struggling with this. With her. Morgan pulled him into her space, and he lingered there. She couldn’t even look at him. Her head was down, but his finger lifted it and forced the connection they both craved. Neither spoke. They just stood there. Morgan was sure this was what death felt like. To want something so badly but be denied of it. To be denied because you wouldn’t let yourself have it. His thumb graced her lip, and Morgan closed her eyes. When she opened them, he was already halfway up the driveway, and he had taken her soul with him. He had stolen her heart, and Morgan would let him keep it because it gave her an excuse to come back to him one day.
Isa pulled the blunt, holding the smoke before blowing it out. Ahmeek sauntered down the steps and fell right into rotation as Isa passed the weed. It dangled from his lips as he sat, then he reached for another stack of bills.
“You on with it with Mo? Thought you was falling back,” Isa said.
“Mo for the games. A nigga ain’t got time,” Ahmeek answered. “She’ll drive a nigga crazy, man. If she got to go back and forth with it, it ain’t mine.”
“Real shit,” Isa said.
“Back to this money, nigga,” Ahmeek choked out with his weed smoke as he passed the blunt.
“We on track to pay this month’s tab to the nigga Hak?” Isa asked.
“We on track. Ya man almost fucked shit up, but I covered it. No lie, bruh, I’m this close to blowing that nigga head off,” Ahmeek stated, pinching his fingers together to measure his lack of restraint.
“Shit’s out of hand, G. You and him,” Isa stated, pausing to toke the blunt. “Fighting over Mo. The shit put a nigga in a real bad spot. You my mans. He my mans. Fuck I’m supposed to do with a war between y’all?”
“Stay out of it,” Ahmeek answered.