My Woman His Wife Saga (22 page)

“Jasmine, I'm sorry I hurt you,” James said, turning his head around so he could have his head on my stomach and look at me.

“James, we'll talk about this later.”

“But baby, I just wanted to . . .”

“James, we'll talk later.”

“Okay, later is fine.”

“Okay.”

I finally turned the television on, not really paying attention to the program that was playing. I had to get in contact with Monica sooner rather than later. We had a lot of things that needed to be discussed.

As I lay there I remember just wanting to scream to no end because life wasn't supposed to be like this. I lay there in a daze staring at the television, thinking to myself how I had a lot to discuss with Monica, but in reality who was I fooling? See, Monica was a major part of my problems, but I also knew that the twins from the gym, Donnie and Rahmel had ran all up in me and nutted up in me not too long ago and I didn't want to think it, but in my heart of hearts I knew that the twins that I had just found out that I was carrying weren't James's babies. Those babies inside of me had to be fathered by the twins from the gym! A woman knows who the father of her kids are; it's sort of like a spiritual, instinctual thing. I couldn't deny what I was feeling, and inside I knew that those kids couldn't be James's.

Lord, I can't take this drama!
I remember thinking to myself. But no matter what, I knew that I could never let James onto the little secret I had which now had blossomed into a major secret being held inside my womb.

News about Rico's suicide had been in the paper every day for the last three months. I was already stressing over the case I had. Yeah, they was trying to get me, but I kept my business as clean as possible so they'd need to try a little harder. Hell, Rico didn't even get props like that when he was walking the streets. Every time I turned on the television or picked up the
Daily News,
I saw his face plastered all over it, like his spirit wouldn't let me have any peace.

Shit, he had it coming! Every hustler in this game knew you couldn't get out. You either disappeared or died trying. Rico knew it was just a matter of time before he was slayed. He had enemies from here to the end of the earth, so his days had been numbered for years. Rico was a lot of things, but suicidal? Naw . . . he would never die a sucker's death. That dude was a soldier. He expired before my connect had a chance to get at him. I knew his supplier, but damn if I knew if he was willing to do business.

Bitches were practically throwing their panties in his casket at the funeral, and that Monica bitch didn't even have the decency to show up. She could have at least faked it 'til the very end. Damn! That bitch had no class, and it made her look suspect.

I just felt bad for Shaneka . . . sort of. She was ride or die for Rico, and he just tossed her to the birds like she never meant shit to him. That woman was a ticking time bomb, and I was just laying low, waiting for her to explode. They had broken up and got back together plenty of times, but that last time was murder. He scooped Monica's ass up quick as shit, and it was like a slap in the face to Shaneka. All I could say was when Monica got dealt with, it wasn't gonna be nothing pretty about it. Monica played that “Oh, I'm crazy” shit, but Shaneka was certified. That girl got papers and was not to be fucked with.

I wasn't banking on Monica getting off as easy as she did. It seemed like she woulda taken the fall with Rico, but it didn't turn out like that. It was almost like she was fucking the judge or something. I'd be seeing Monica about some shit real soon.

Rico had gravy beyond your wildest imagination, and I knew she walked away laced. When his peeps came to clean out his apartment that thing was practically empty. I knew my man was living lavish, but you could never tell by how his place looked when his peeps rolled through. It was like he never even lived there. Clothes, shoes, jewels . . . everything was gone, like my man never existed. Like maybe he was a figment of your imagination. He never introduced Monica to his family, so no one knew who to look for, but I had my eye on her ass from the gate. Snakes recognize other snakes, and I knew her ass was kin. I was just mad she got to him before I could.

One day right after Rico had died I was on the block, trying to push this powder while I still could. The feds were trying to sweep the whole neighborhood on some bullshit, and I had things to do. I couldn't be sitting up in nobody's penitentiary doing time. Yeah, I was a hustler but, I wasn't made for that shit. Give that to the real gangsters. Yeah, I be out here bustin' them guns when necessary, but when it came to doing time, I was a wankster all damn day. You wouldn't have my ass scared to pick up the soap.

I was about to head back because the same cop car done circled the block three times. I didn't know who they were looking for, but if it was me, that day wouldn't be the day. On the way back to the crib I decided to stop and get me a sandwich and a Pepsi when my cell phone rang. Looking down at the caller ID, I decided to ignore the call. Blocked numbers didn't get answered, and whoever was blowing my hip up should've known that. My phone rang four more times before I got to the crib, and whoever it was never left a message. Oh, well.

I was sitting around trying to put a plan together. I'd been with Rico to visit his supplier plenty of times, but you just couldn't be approaching people like that, unless, of course, you had a death wish or something. I knew someone knew who did Rico, because personally I wasn't convinced he did it himself. Gangsters worldwide had been trying to get at him for the longest, and I just needed to find out what crew got him done so I could make my next move.

Taking a peek at my phone, I had twenty-seven missed calls from an anonymous caller, and it was working my nerves. Hell, it could be some chick I met recently or my worst nightmare on the other end. Either way, I wasn't interested. I was curious though, so I decided if the phone rang again, I might answer it.

Around seven thirty my anonymous caller buzzed my phone again I picked up the phone, my agitation clearly evident in the tone of my voice.

“State ya purpose, quick!” I growled into the phone. I didn't make it a habit of answering calls when I didn't know who was on the other end. I was knee deep in illegal shit, and the last thing I needed was the jakes on my ass. Only a handful of niggas knew the math, so for someone to call me with a blocked number spelled trouble.

“Carlos, it's me, Shaneka,” the soft, feminine voice responded from the other end of the phone line. She sounded like she was crying, but that was none of my concern. The only nigga that gave a damn was dead now, so what did she want me to do? Instead of responding to her obvious cry for attention, I straight blacked on her like she was one of my many enemies.

“What I tell you about calling out my government, and why in hell are you calling me from a blocked number? You know I don't play those games.”

“Well, C-Dogg, I had some valuable information for you, but since you want to act like a damn nut—” she spoke into the phone sarcastically. I could almost see the look on her face, probably a smirk with her eyebrows raised.

“Listen, speak ya piece, okay? If you got info, spill it. If not, get off my dime,” I barked into the phone, cutting her off.

The part that killed me the most was that she acted like she was all bent out of shape over Rico's passing, but the entire time they were together I was tapping her ass to no end. Hell, the day he got busted I had just finished tearing her guts up before I went over there. She would come and blow me early in the morning, then later that day I'd see her tongue kissing Rico like my soldiers weren't just tickling her tonsils a few hours before. Snakes! Kin always recognized kin.

“Damn, since when has it been like that between us? You act like I never done you right.”

“Shaneka, please tell me what I need to know, ma.” I counted to ten to bring my blood pressure down. I had to refrain from banging on her ass because I swear we'd be arguing like we were a fuckin' couple. This girl was trying my last nerve early in the game.

“If you insist,” she responded, sounding like she had shit in check. I decided to let her have that small victory for now. “Well, remember when I told you I thought I saw Monica before?” she asked, knowing damn well we'd already had that conversation.

“Yeah, I remember, why?”

“Well, peep this shit . . .”

Shaneka broke everything down from when she met Monica a while back up at the prison. The same guard Shaneka told me she was having problems with was giving Monica heat. As payback they did a number on the guard's car by slashing all four tires and putting a mixture of sugar, popcorn kernels, and Snickers candy bars in her gas tank. So even if the guard got new tires, by the time she started the engine, and that mixture started circulating, the car would be no good.

Come to find out Shaneka and Monica were visiting the same person. The men are housed about a mile down the road, but the visiting room is shared by both sexes to make it easier to keep track of the prisoners during visiting hours since none of the guards wanted to do any real work anyway.

Shaneka had been seeing a woman named Tanya for over a year and a half before Monica started to visit Tanya. Shaneka was rotating between seeing her brother one week and Tanya the next. Monica always visited Tanya on the week Shaneka wasn't seeing her, but Shaneka remembered what Tanya said about Monica's involvement with Tanya ending up on lockdown. It just didn't click in Shaneka's mind who Monica was until after Monica gave her a business card.

Shaneka met Tanya on a day she and her mom were visiting with her brother, and they had been cool ever since. She told Tanya that she would help her when she got out, and they became fast friends, and later on lovers. Rico never knew what was going on. Shaneka was practically running circles around him.

Her hate came about for Monica when they broke up and she found out Rico saw Monica that same day. Never mind that Monica knew nothing about Rico and Shaneka. Her vendetta was definitely personal on getting Monica back.

“So, what does all of this have to do with me?” I asked.

“I'm getting to that now,” she sighed, getting a little attitude because I had cut her off again.

She went on to talk about all the similarities between them, and how they knew a lot of the same people with both of them being photographers and artists. I think I heard her say something about a pink bitch, but I wasn't sure. She rambled on for about another ten minutes before I had to cut her off again. The information she was giving me I already knew, or didn't give a damn about, so what was the purpose of the call?

“Shaneka, please get to the point, damn!”

“Okay, okay. Damn . . . so angry,” she replied, afterward sucking her teeth. I didn't give a damn.

“Well, how about I saw her at the doctor's office this morning and you are not going to believe me when I tell you this!”

“Tell me what, Shaneka?”

“How 'bout that bitch is pregnant.”

“And?” I said more than asked, confused as to why I should give a damn. Hell, it wasn't my seed.

“And? Nigga, I think it may be Rico's,” she said, bursting into tears again. Now I knew why she was so upset.

“And you care because?”

“I care because that bitch stole my man, had him killed, and now she's having his baby.”

“How you know she had Rico killed?” I asked, curious as to where she got her information. I thought maybe she knew something I didn't.

“I don't, but I think she did. Anyway, she's pregnant by my man. That's what's important.”

“So what you gonna do?”

“Get her ass back! What the hell you mean what I'm gonna do?”

“I meant how, Shaneka, damn!”

“I'll get back to you on that by the end of the day, but I do have a tad bit of info that may work to your advantage.”

“Word? What's that?” I asked, now bored with the conversation. I had my own neck to protect. Her shit was on solo this time.

“You know that cute little young girl that you be fuckin' all crazy over in Tasker projects? The one you got twisted on that coke?”

“Yeah,” I said, now listening more to what she had to say.

“Well, if you're looking for a way to get at Monica, that's it. That pretty little young thing you got turned out is Monica's little sister.”

Before I could say anything else, she hung up the phone, and I had a million questions I wanted to ask her. One thing I could honestly say about Shaneka was this: she may have been a little on the annoying side, but when she had some info she was usually on point—99.9 percent like a paternity test. I must say that shit she had just dropped on me was heavy, and I had to take a step back before I made my next move.

It's funny how small the world is, because I would have never in a million years connected Yoyo with Monica. Yolanda was a cutie for sure. Small waist, bubble butt, perfect breasts with kissable nipples, and the same heart-shaped mouth like her older sister. They were both dimes, the only difference being their last names. Maybe that's why I hadn't put two and two together.

As fly as Yoyo was, and as good as that pussy felt while she was riding me, she had one hell of a damn habit. My girl got her snort on, and was serious with it. Now, don't get me wrong, she didn't look like your average Joe Crackhead, but that girl would snort all day if the blow was available. And talk about wild sex! Man, that shit must run in the family because this chick was a beast.

One night I slid through for my waxing and she answered the door ass naked holding a silk scarf in one hand, and two pair of handcuffs in the other. My man came to life instantly, causing my pants to tent majorly in the front. She didn't say anything to me. She just dropped the handcuffs and scarf on the floor, and walked toward her bedroom in the back of the apartment.

Now, I ain't gonna lie, I was stuck on dysfunctional for a hot second. I knew she liked being creative, but sometimes she didn't give me a clue. I just had to walk in there and do my own thing. So now my mind was racing a mile a minute as I bent over to pick up the items from the floor before locking the door. She had a fly little apartment and she kept it neat, so I made sure to hang my coat up before going into the bedroom.

When I walked in, Yoyo was on the bed lying on her side with one leg up to her chest working a dildo from the back. Her other hand helped keep her nipples in her mouth as soft moans escaped her lips. I damn near exploded watching her in that somewhat compromising position. Shedding my clothes quickly, I joined her on the bed.

First turning her on her back, I tied the scarf she gave me around her eyes so she couldn't see what I was doing to her. Grabbing another scarf from the nightstand, I tied her hands tightly to the headboard so she couldn't move. I had to take a second and slow down before it was over, and it hadn't even started yet. Looking at her body stretched out on the bed, and my name tattooed across her pelvis where hair should be, almost had me wanting to wife her . . . almost.

Taking both pairs of handcuffs, after placing the keys in her hand, I first attached them to my wrist then to her ankles so she couldn't move. Yolanda was practically double jointed so I knew if I stretched her any which way she'd be able to conform. Normally, head was out of the question and never part of the equation, but that night I decided to show her what it was really hittin' for.