Whos Loving You (17 page)

O
oh-wee. I wanted to stab Tiffany in her side and push her to the floor. My God, that woman was crazy. I figured I had to fuck her to shut her the hell up. Tiffany needed a real good fuck to clean out her pussy, and she needed to see a shrink. The bitch was on one helluva whirlwind psychological tour.

I would never fuck Honey the way I was fucking the shit out of Tiffany. I ain’t gon’ lie. Tiffany’s pussy was good. But she couldn’t compete with the love of my life. Honey deserved all of me, emotionally and physically. I knew Tiffany wanted more, but she got what she deserved, a straight fuck, and she should be grateful.

I wasn’t eating her pussy or licking her ass the way I’d done each time I made love to Honey. Going down on a woman for me was personal. I regretted leaving Honey’s house after violating her privacy by answering her cell phone. If she’d done that to me, and I’d found out, I’d have cursed her out. Our trust bond was already broken, but a move like that would’ve severed our relationship for good.

In less than twenty-four hours of my being at Tiffany’s, we’d run out of peanut butter and strawberry preserves, milk, honey, and anal lube. The sheets on her bed were sticky. My nuts were stuck to my ass, and her hair was matted. That was how we ended up in the shower.

“Haaaa, haaaaa.” I exhaled. “Turn your ass around.” Spreading her cheeks, Tiffany tilted her head backward, letting the hot water beat against her face.

“Grant, you’re everything I imagined,” she moaned, thrusting her ass onto my dick. “I just can’t get enough of you.”

I’d had enough of her hours ago. Other than sex, we had nothing in common. Her past was a sad one. Her stepfather was one dirty son of a bitch that deserved to have his ass beaten beyond recognition. Sapphire was a cop. Why didn’t she go after him? She knew where he lived. I think she wanted to go home to see her mother and would have, without hesitation, if she knew he wouldn’t be there. Or maybe the fear was so overwhelming, nothing could make her step foot back in her mother’s home.

Pressing my hands on her lower spine, I dug deeper into her pussy. “Aw, Tiffany, I’m getting ready to cum. You ready, baby?”

She reached between her legs and mine. She grabbed my nuts and held them tight. I didn’t know what felt better: my dick deep inside her pussy or the way she kept massaging the spot between my dick and my balls, stimulating my prostrate.

“Aw, shit.” Pussy was a man’s best friend. “It’s right there, Tiffany. That’s the spot. Press harder,” I said. I inhaled, and steam raced up my nose, then down my throat. I didn’t care. I kept digging deeper in her tight pussy. Tiffany’s ass was nice and wet. I slipped my thumb all the way inside her ass.

“That’s it. Yeah,” she moaned, backing me into the wall with her ass.

Turning around, Tiffany squatted in the shower. I slipped my dick into her mouth, and franticly she stroked my shaft. “Give it to me. Cum on, Daddy,” she moaned. Water flowed in and out of her mouth along with my dick.

She was forcing another load out of me. What the hell. I was ready to be done a long time ago. I grunted as I spit out the few seeds I had left to give. My legs became weak. “That’s it,” I said, stepping out of the shower. “You are not going to have me limping back to Atlanta. No more dick for you, insatiable lady.”

I wrapped a towel around my waist, went into the guest bedroom, and stretched across the mattress, sideways. A few minutes later, Tiffany came in. She cuddled beside me.

“Thanks for giving me the best orgasms. You sure you can’t stay another day?” she said.

Moving away from her, I shook my head. I didn’t want to cuddle with her. “I came here to find out your connection to Honey. Now I know.” I rolled over, hiding my dick. “But every time I say I’m leaving, you beg me to stay. You want to have sex. I’m all sexed out. So can we talk about my brother now?”

“One question. I’ll only answer one. What do you want to know the most?”

“Did you really find him with a gun stuck in his ass?”

“Yes, in the house that Honey still owns.”

“Did Honey stick the gun in his ass?” I needed to know for personal reasons.

“That’s two questions,” Tiffany said, rolling her eyes at me.

“No, it’s part two to one question. So answer me.”

“He said she did, and I believe him. Look, Grant. Honey is holding my money for you and me. For us to be together. Not for you to be with her. I’m so glad I found you. How’s your four-hundred-eleven-unit development in Atlanta coming along?”

What the fuck? She was investigating me? Frowning, I sat on the edge of the bed, then said, “There is no us.” Was she hearing impaired, or like most women, did Tiffany only hear what she wanted to hear?

“Why can’t you give us a try? I could move to D.C. or Atlanta. I know you didn’t spend the last twenty-four hours making love to me while you were thinking about her. I made you forget about her. Admit it,” she said, grabbing between my legs.

Swatting her hand away, I said, “Leave my dick alone. Damn.” I pushed her arm away again and again. “Fuck! Stop it, will you!”

“Grant, no man has made me feel this way. We have to be together. We will be together whether you like it or not.”

That statement confirmed my thoughts that the woman was stone crazy. “Why don’t you go cook us breakfast while I think about it,” I lied. Whatever happened with the fifty million was between them. At least Honey was honest about what she’d done. Tiffany wanted to play head games and live in some make-believe world in which she made me make her happy.

“That means you’re considering my proposal. Make the right decision, baby. I wouldn’t want to have to arrest your sweet Honey for murdering Reynolds to have you all to myself. But I will do whatever it takes. I don’t want you going near her again.” Tiffany left the room.

Decisions. Decisions. For me, shit like this only happened in movies. The sun started shining through the window. The problem I had was Tiffany actually believed, with a badge and a gun on her side of the law, she could make me do any damn thing.

“Tiffany!” I yelled, sitting up in her bed. “You can’t be serious. Forget about us!”

“Of course, I am, sweetheart, and I need an answer from you before you leave.” She paused. “Or you’re not going anywhere,” she sang.

“What do you want?” I heaved, then swallowed the bile sliding up and down my throat. “Fuck it. Your ass is sick.”

“You haven’t seen sick.” Tiffany returned, clicking a nutcracker. Ripping away the edges of a plastic bag, she scattered walnuts all over the bed.

Crack.

Casually, she asked, “Want some?”

I’d never made a bad choice, one where I felt there was no redemption. I hadn’t planned on letting Tiffany control my life. Since breaking up with Honey, I’d fucked Velvet and Tiffany, but my dick had done most of the thinking. It felt fucking fantastic in the moment, but sitting here right now across from this crazy bitch, I regretted it. That was why I’d stopped texting Velvet. She wanted a relationship, too. She was a stripper, for God’s sake, traveling around the country with Trevor to seduce his business partners. I was glad I’d listened to my father about the business deal. Women who were looking for a man to take care of them weren’t the kind I wanted to commit to. And I wanted kids, but not some other man’s kid, like Ronnie.

“I can’t do it,” I said. Irrespective of how my parents felt, what my brother had said, and what Tiffany said she was doing, my heart had never wavered. Honey was the one I wanted to have a family with. My cell phone had died during the night. I left Tiffany on the bed, unzipped my suitcase, and plugged in my phone.

“Can and you will,” she said, picking up her cordless phone. Tiffany dialed eleven digits, then said, “Here.”

Crack.
She busted another walnut.

I pushed her hand away. There was something forgivable about Honey that made it impossible for me to give up on her.

“Grant! Have you heard a word I’ve said?” Tiffany yelled.

Ignoring her, I quickly dressed, then started packing my things. I’d rather wait at the airport than endure several more hours of her insanity.

“Grant! I’m sorry!” A walnut hit me in the head. “I’m sorry!” Another walnut hit me in the face. “I said I’m fucking sorry!” she yelled. I had to block about a half dozen walnuts. “How many times do you want me to apologize? Please don’t leave me,” she pleaded, pacing in front of me, with a mouth full of walnuts, looking like a chipmunk.

One of us had to be calm and sensible. I knew she wanted me to give her a reason to take this confrontation to a higher level. I refused to hit her or raise my voice. I had no intention of ever seeing Tiffany again, but there was no way any man, including me, could make that woman happy. My father was right again. Tiffany had allowed her stepfather to rape her happiness away from her, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

“Fine. Then let me cook you breakfast. You said you were hungry,” she said, leaving the bedroom.

Unplugging my cell phone, I placed my charger in the side pocket of my suitcase. I dialed the 800 number for free directory assistance. My call dropped. I dialed again. The call dropped again. I tried a third time. I swear, some days I wished I could put this phone on a little yellow bus and roll it into the cell phone store! I picked the cordless up off the bed. Pressing the green button, I heard Tiffany talking to someone.

“Where’s Lace?” she asked.

“I was right. She’s in Los Angeles,” a woman answered.

“What’s she doing there?”

“Per Onyx, she’s accompanying one of her clients on a child-support case.”

Overhearing that confirmed my love for Honey.

“So how are the other girls treating you?” asked Tiffany.

“I’m good. I’m glad I came. I wanted to let you know, I can’t keep spying on Lace for you. This is my new family, and I want to help them help other women. You’ll have to find another way to get your money back. Why don’t
you
ask her for it?”

“Bitch, I will hurt you,” growled Tiffany.

Here we go with threats again,
I thought.

“Do whatever you want. I’m happy here,” said the woman.

“Girl Six, don’t you hang up on me.”

“Good-bye, Sapphire.”

Girl Six. I had to remember that name. I waited until I heard Tiffany hang up. Rolling my suitcase to the front door, I looked at Tiffany. “You’re worse now than the day I met you.”

“Grant, I’m done fucking with you. Go ahead. Leave.” Picking up her phone, she dialed a number. “Yeah, this is Officer Sapphire Bleu,” she said into the phone. “I have a break in the Valentino James case. Put out an arrest warrant for Honey Thomas. She’s reportedly in Los Angeles.” Tiffany proceeded to give a physical description of Honey.

I had to change my strategy. Sitting on the sofa, I read Honey’s text message from yesterday, then texted her.
Where are you?

She texted back:
Oh, so you’re not dead.

Tiffany said, “Send all the text messages you want. Unless you want to change your mind about us, it’s too late.”

Ignoring Tiffany, I replied to Honey.
Almost, but not quite. Seriously, where are you?

L.A.

Get out now!
I texted.

She texted back:
Why?

Be careful. The police is looking for you.

How do you know this?
she texted.

Please just trust me on this one. Don’t go to the airport. Drive the speed limit, and meet me in Vegas, at the Wynn.

Who is this?
she texted.
Is this a joke?

I wish. Help me out here. I’m trying to save you,
I texted. Immediately afterward, I deleted our text history. Smiling at Tiffany, I said, “I just told Honey I don’t want to see her anymore. I’m staying here another day. Maybe we can come to a better understanding.”

That sicko smiled, then came to me. “Grant, I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

“But first you need to make a call and tell whomever you just called you made a mistake.”

“I didn’t call anybody, silly. I was joking. Let’s eat.”

S
ummer was the most beautiful woman. Natural. No make-up. No weird colors in her hair and shit. Now that was the way a woman should look, the same at night and in the morning. All that wig wearing, red and fake blond coloring in the hair, and tons of stuff smeared all over their face to try to look like somebody else was ridiculous, ’cause they had to wash it off at some point, and when they did, goddamn, I could jab two forks in the sides of some women’s necks, and abraca-motherfuckin’-dabra, I swear, some of those bitches were uglier than Frankenstein, but a nigga would’ve licked their pussies dry if I could’ve gotten a conjugal visit while I was in jail. A nigga didn’t appreciate pussy until there were zero pussies around.

Summer made a motherfucker like me soft and shit. Being around her a whole day, knowing she was carrying my seeds, I tried to become a family man by playing with my son and having dinner together. That shit was cool for one, maybe two, hours max. What the fuck did a stay-at-home dad do all damn day was beyond me, unless he was an entrepreneur, finding and managing fine-ass females for his clients to fuck.

“Come here, ba,” I said, grabbing Summer by the arm. “I got some shit I have to say that can’t wait.”

“What is it?” she said and smiled. “You’re ready to make love to me. You didn’t give me any last night. I’m going to bust if I don’t get some dick.” Summer’s smile was that of a woman with a little girl trapped inside. Her parents hadn’t let her grow up and shit, but that was cool. I could change that in a few weeks.

What the hell had she done for sex before I got out? My dick got hard. I wanted to fuck Summer so bad. Exploding inside of my lady was worth the wait. There was always another opportunity to run up in some other pussy or maybe some nigga’s ass. I couldn’t chance getting down again without wrapping my shit up. I was a hard motherfucker, but I didn’t want a sick-ass dick hanging over my nuts.

Damn, I wished I hadn’t fucked that nigga in his ass! I hated to admit that shit was bigger than busting a nut. I felt empowered. For me, fucking a female was stress relief. Fucking a man in the ass, I felt like the alpha male, the lion king of the motherfuckin’ jungle. I wanted to beat my chest and beat his ass at the same time. I ruled my domain. Any nigga could control a bitch, but making another man my bitch, that was power.

“Naw, that ain’t it,” I told Summer. “I promise to get us some condoms while I’m out. Sit next to me.” I was sitting on the edge of the love seat inside the bedroom. Holding Summer’s hand, I faced her, then looked into her eyes. “I want you to listen carefully. This here shit I’m about to say is for real. Summer, you know me better than anyone else. I love you, girl. I thank you for bailing your nigga out. When we go to court, you are going to testify on my behalf. You have to be a believable character witness for me. You’re all I’ve got. When all of this here shit is over, we’re fuckin’ getting married.”

I was sincere about the marriage part. My being associated with Summer would look good for me. And if, for any reason, I got arrested for some of the shit that was about to go down, I knew Summer would bail me out again.

Summer’s eyes beamed with joy. Smothering me with kisses, she said, “Why wait, Anthony? If you love me, and I do love you with all my heart, let’s go to Chapel of the Bells right now and get married today.”

What was the rush with her tryin’ to tie a nigga down instantaneously? “Tomorrow,” I said. I had shit to do today.

“Okay. I won’t take Anthony to see my parents today, ’cause they won’t approve of us getting married, and I can’t lie to them. That wouldn’t be the Christian thing to do. Seriously! Tomorrow?”

“For sho’. Go get any dress you want, and we’ll get married in the morning. Seriously.”

Shit. Summer’s idea was better than mine. Once she said, “I do,” I’d have total access to everything Summer owned, ’cause there’d be no time to draw up a prenup. I would not sign that shit, anyway. I bet her dad, old man Mr. Day, was going to feel like Old Man River, wishin’ he could roll down the muddy Mississippi, when I called him Dad. Mr. Day was gonna shit cement bricks. I didn’t give a fuck.

“Come on, baby. A quickie for your bride,” Summer said, rubbing my dick.

That shit felt good. She was making it hard. But I could wait a few more hours. “Later,” I said, going to the kitchen.

“You gon’ eat breakfast with us before you leave?” Summer asked, trailing behind me.

Back in the day, when my parents were alive, sitting at the table together was special. I wanted to be there with Summer and my son, but I had so much shit on my mind, mentally I’d be elsewhere. I had to keep moving. But when it came time to relax, home with my new family was where I was gonna be. Every man wanted a place to call home.

“Keep it hot for me, baby. I’ll be home for dinner.” I was not thinking about food. When I did get ahold of Summer, I was going to fuck the hairs off of her pussy. Summer would be so sore, I might have to take her vows and mine or teleconference her in on our ceremony. “Let me see the car keys to the Bentley and the bank card. What’s the pin again?” I was double-checking to make sure I’d memorized it right.

“Eighty nineteen,” Summer said.

“Oh, and let me use your cell phone until we get me one, and I need you to write me out a blank check. I might need a few extra dollars to get you that special ring,” I said, kissing Summer tenderly.

Summer signed and dated a check, made it payable to me, then handed it to me. “Don’t write it for more than ten thousand. I don’t need an expensive ring.”

I took the check, glanced over it to make sure she hadn’t left anything out or filled in an amount, then folded it and placed it in my pocket.

Racing to my side, li’l Anthony said, “Daddy, I wanna go with you.”

“Anthony James,” Summer said sternly, “sit your behind down in that chair right now and be quiet. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. You hear me?”

“Dang, he is
my
dad,” Anthony mumbled, slouching in the chair.

Damn. Like that? I looked at Summer, walked over to her, took the keys and the bank card, then left. I didn’t bother saying bye or kissing her. She acted like I was gonna get my seed killed or some shit. Fuck that bitch! She could marry her damn self!

I headed straight to the bank. I wrote out the check for ten million dollars to open up my own account with my own money. The banker left me sitting at her desk for fifteen minutes. Then she came back.

“I’m sorry, Mr. James. This check was not honored by Ms. Day. We just called her. She did approve ten thousand, and I can give you that if you’d like.”

I sat there staring at that bitch, trying to figure my next move. “But it’s signed by her. She owes me this money. You have to honor it.”

“Sorry. How would you like the ten thousand dollars?” she asked.

“Cash, bitch. Cash,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

After escorting me inside the private room for merchant account holders, she counted out my money, then put it in an envelope. I went straight to the ATM and withdrew one thousand, then another one thousand. I tried for another, but the fucking machine kept the card. Was two thousand dollars all she had authorized for her daily limit? Bitch!

I drove down Paradise Road, off the Strip. A nigga sure felt good being back on the streets. I stopped off at Terrible’s casino. Ordinarily, I’d valet park at the casinos on the Strip, but under the circumstances, every minute was a state of a motherfuckin’ emergency. I had to maintain access to all my shit while watching my own back. I didn’t even have enough cash to hire bodyguards.

I browsed around to see if I saw anyone I knew. “Well, I’ll be goddamn,” I said aloud. I thought Vegas was bigger than this here. Was that dat nigga sittin’ by the door, playing the penny slots? That was about right. I walked up on him and said, “What’s up, motherfucker?”

“Hey, yo, I knew I was going to see you, man. I just knew it. I felt that shit, V,” Benito said, hugging me. “That’s why I waited for you right here. Been at it all night. I’ma hit big. I can feel it, man.”

“Nigga, stop lying. You are not going to hit that million-dollar jackpot on no fuckin’ penny machine. Cash that bitch out, and let’s go.”

Shaking his head, then covering his grin, Benito said, “You just don’t know, man. So much shit has happened since—”

“Shut up and let’s roll,” I said, taking six steps back from his ass.

“Wait, V! Don’t leave a brotha. I’ma get my ticket out of the machine,” he said, standing up.

I couldn’t believe I’d graduated from high school with that nigga. What I truly couldn’t believe was he’d actually graduated and gone to college.

An old lady walked up, put one dollar in the machine, hit the spin button one time, and I’d be damned. That old, wrinkle-ass bitch hit the jackpot. Benito lost it. Pushing the woman aside, he said, “That’s my money. That’s my machine.” I had to drag that nigga away before that old lady knocked him upside his head again.

“I told you, man,” Benito said, holding his ticket so tight, it crumbled.

“Let me see that,” I said, snatching the ticket out of his hand. “Five dollas?” I tore up the ticket. “Nigga, you can’t do shit with five fuckin’ dollas. You can’t even guess the letter
r
for five dollas. Don’t even bother cashing this shit in. Let’s go.”

“Man, why’d you do that shit? I just lost a million dollars.”

“Then you can get another million. As soon as you help me get my money back,” I said as we headed to my car. I cruised along the Strip to let it be known I was out. That shit only meant something to me because outside of my former empires in North Las Vegas, I didn’t hang around creatin’ no friction with other niggas who wanted to be like me. All of my headaches had been brought on by one bitch or another. I missed my mansion, but I wasn’t dumb enough to drive by it. What I really missed was my customized aquarium built underneath my glass floor. A nigga like me walked on water every day. Those bastards had probably let my sharks die. That or sold them.

I got straight to the point and questioned Benito. “You know who got my money?” I asked to see if his answer would match what Summer had told me.

Benito nodded. “Sapphire and Lace, man. I tried to tell Lace she needed to give it back, but she threatened to shoot me if I stepped foot on her property. I know where she lives. I followed my brother to her house. I know where Sapphire lives ’cause I had a taxi follow her home when she picked up my brother from the airport. Valentino, I been thinking, man. We drive to Atlanta first thing in the morning—”

“No can do. I’m getting married in the morning. In fact, I need to go buy my girl a big-ass rock before the stores close and shit.”

Benito chuckled. “That’s a good one. As if you would ever get married. Like I was saying, we drive to Atlanta first thing in the morning, get our fifty million from Lace, then tie her up, stick a gun in her ass, and leave her for dead, and then we drive back here and hire somebody else to take care of Sapphire, ’cause I’m scared of her ass. Once we get our money from her, we buy us an island in the Caribbean, cruise over to our new spot, and get us some new hos.”

“Nigga, first, it ain’t our money. It’s my money. And all this driving and cruising bullshit is for bitches. How the fuck you get here?”

“Leave the driving to us. Greyhound,” Benito said, nodding.

“You took the fucking bus all the way from D.C.? I oughta bust you in your head for lying.”

“I barely had enough money to do that. Plus, it’s cheaper than flying. I rode the dog from D.C. to Atlanta to Las Vegas, and I ain’t gettin’ on no plane. We’re driving to Atlanta, right? Remember, I’ve got a plan to get all of our money back. We need to be on our way to Atlanta right now, but we gotta drive. I’m afraid to fly.”

“Nigga, your big ass played pro ball. How you afraid to fly?”

“Valiums, man. I was knocked the fuck out.”

Nigga, your ass is broke,
I thought. That was what I’d ordinarily say, but I wasn’t no fool. I didn’t have shit to go on, and for the first time, I needed Benito more than he needed me. That was fucked up. I refused to invite his ass to my wedding.

“I’m out. I gotta get my girl a ring. Meet me back at this casino at noon tomorrow. Don’t be late,” I said, dropping him off on Tropicana.

“I’ll be sitting right back where you found me until tomorrow.”

“Nigga, get a room.”

“With what? My good looks?”

I tossed Benito three hundred dollars and left.

Driving to the jewelry store, I thought about what lie I was going to tell Summer when I got home. I had to go to Atlanta but wasn’t supposed to leave Nevada. “Wait a minute,” I said aloud. “Benito told me he ran into Sapphire at the airport. What the fuck was he doing at the airport if he came in on the dog?”

If that nigga was trying to set me up, I was gonna kill his ig’nant ass. “I got one better,” I said aloud, then headed back to Tropicana, where I’d dropped Benito off. “Fuck going home. I’ma spend the night with Benito.”