Black reign saga, p.10
Black Reign Saga, page 10
“Girl, you know I keeps me two, three danglin’.” Angela laughed and gave Trinity five. “Got a nigga name Mac. Fine, real estate muthafucka with dough—couple-hundred-thousand-dollar-home dough. Ain’t gave him no pussy yet, but I felt that nigga dick layin’ all on my thigh, beggin’ to get in. I controls my shit—don’t get it fucked up.” They gave each other five and laid there in silence.
It was noon and Damien was headed out to get Angela. Noriega wanted Damien to stick around and check out his business deals. He and Salone were going to Chicago to check on a club venture, and he wanted Damien in on it and to bring Angela along. But with school and work, that wouldn’t be possible. Damien talked about the possibilities, but gave no definite answer.
After a little while, Damien was on his way to get Angela and head back to Norfolk with a new business venture on his mind. After arriving at the condo and taking in all her bags, he decided to break out. She had work to do before class and some shit to tell Monica about the weekend.
That evening Angela and Monica were looking at the Jamie Foxx Show, eating popcorn and sipping Alizé when the phone rang. “It’s Mac,” Monica said, covering up the phone. “He’s been callin’ all weekend.”
Angela came to the phone. “Hello. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How was your weekend?”
“Fine. Just did a little shoppin’ with my dad and step-moms. I always have a great time in Maryland.”
“If it’s not too late, I would love to stop by and see you.”
She wasn’t really up for company, but it had been quite a few days. “Sure, I’ll be here.”
“Is he coming over?”
“Yeah, for a few. I’m not going to be up late.”
“Yeah, yeah! Now finish tellin’ me about his cousin.”
“Girl, the nigga is fine. Real dark and jet-black, wavy hair, with real pretty skin. Gots plenty dough—baby is paid,” she said with excitement in her voice.
“Do he have a girl?” Monica asked.
“Yeah, and she’s very attractive. Look like a fuckin’ model. Slim like a model. But you can tell her shit is tight. Bitch from France, but went to Howard. She a together girl; I like her.
“Damn, the good ones always got a bitch in the cut. Don’t matter . . . she better keep his ass up there because I still wouldn’t mind meetin’ him. Shit, I got a man.”
“Never know. He might just come this way . . . you never know.”
Then a knocking disturbed the girls’ conversation.
“I’m going to bed,” Monica said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mac came in and sat down with Angela. They sipped Alizé and talked until the late hours. He wanted to stay with Angela, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea. After explaining to her that he really missed her company, all he wanted was her next to him to hold in his arms. That would definitely make his night. She finally agreed and they went in her room and went to sleep.
The running shower woke Mac. He wanted to make love to her so bad. All night long, every time she brushed against him, it made his body cry for hers. After she came out of the bathroom fully dressed, he got up to wash his face. She walked over and hugged him. She couldn’t resist; he looked like a Greek god, standing there in his silk bikini drawers. Her body moistened as she felt his dick rise for the occasion when he pulled her close to him. She wanted him and last night it took all she had not to give in. In his arms she felt so secure, so overpowered, she wished he would have been a little more forceful and had just taken her, instead of always coming across like the perfect gentlemen.
“So will I see you later?” she asked.
“I’ll do my best. I have an appointment that I know will run until late, but I really want to spend more time with you, so I am going to do my best.” He headed for the door.
It was now November and the last couple months had flown by, and being with Angela had been glorious. Mac had never met anyone like her. He couldn’t explain the feeling he got when she was in his company, but inside he knew she was the one. And the excitement that came out of her when she was introduced to something new made him long for the opportunity to show her the world. He pulled the French doors open that allowed him to step outside of the master bedroom and stood on the balcony of his two-story brick home, staring out over his covered pool while the brisk breeze came across his face. It was a week before Thanksgiving and Angela had invited him to have dinner with her parents at their home.
He turned and walked back inside. He moved closer to the bed, staring down at the two empty condom packages. Then he focused his attention to Angela’s bare body lying on his California King. He and Angela had shared many special evenings, but last night was special.
He sat down on the bed and rubbed her back, reminiscing about the night before and how he could hear the smile in her voice when he told her the limousine was coming to pick her up at seven. When the limo arrived she was to get the wrapped gift box out the back and it would be her attire for the evening. He had personally gone out and bought her a navy blue, velvet evening dress by Carol Little.
The limousine then took her to his home in Lafayette Shores. When she walked in, he had the mellow sounds of Najee playing throughout the house as the chefs and servers waited on them. He wanted Angela to feel like royalty in his castle; to be served a gourmet dinner prepared by one of the finest chefs in Hampton Roads. He’d brought several dozens of roses, red and white. He had rose pedals sprinkled from the front door to the bedroom and on top of the hot water that filled his Jacuzzi.
After dinner they slow danced. As their bodies intertwined, he felt something. Something different. He picked her up and carried her to his room. He slowly undressed her and took her hand to guide her to the Jacuzzi where he bathed, and then made slow passionate love to her. He started at a slow pace, but with the condom on and the water, he could barely feel her wetness, but he kept going until he was dripping sweat in the hot, steaming water. He moved her to the bed and dried her off, taking the massage oil that he’d purchased from Victoria Secret and slowly began applying it to her body. She allowed him to take every toe and finger into his wet mouth, before he buried his face into her vagina. He took in her every move, her every sound, and fell in love with the sounds and her love noises. He lifted himself and climbed on top of her. He entered her and didn’t last fifteen minutes before he found himself climaxing, even with the condom.
He had to get her home so she wouldn’t be late for class. When he pulled in front of her condo, she said, “Last night was beautiful. I’ve never been treated so special. Thank you.” Nervous the other might happen to pull up, she never felt comfortable sitting in front talking with Mac or Damien.
“Close the door a minute,” he said. “Have you ever been skiing?”
“Once . . . when I was eleven.” She remembered when Dr. Statton took her and her mom to Masanutten.
“During the Thanksgiving holidays, I would like you to accompany me on a ski slash business trip. Some business, but more recreation.”
“Sounds exciting. I would love to.” She leaned over and kissed him and proceeded to get out the car. Damn, a ski trip sounds exciting and romantic.
One more day of this shit and then my vacation begins, Angela thought as she turned in her test paper. She wondered if Damien was going to help her study. He could be so helpful sometimes. She remembered how helpful he was the other night. He was supposed to meet her at the condo when she got off.
When she arrived, him and Monica were inside smoking, with Tupac blasting out the speakers. They all sat watching Moesha, and Malcolm and Eddie, getting lifted before deciding to order Chinese food.
As Angela and Damien went into her room, she was feeling tired and groggy. He decided to help her wake up and, boy, did he wake her up. They did their thing and showered. When they came out, he sat up with her, drilling the material into her head.
Angela was walking across campus on her way to take her final exam when she felt somebody’s arm wrap around her.
“Heah, baby,” Rome said.
“What’s up?”
“Not a thing. Just ready for the weekend.”
“I know what you mean. I’m going skiing and plan to have a ball.”
“With your family?”
“No, me and my friend, Mac. He has a condo at a resort, and we’re spending the weekend in Colorado.”
“Enjoy yourself but be careful; I don’t want to see you hurt. I’ll see y’all tomorrow night. I’m coming through,” he said, running off to holler at another girl.
Angela continued across campus to the bookstore in the plaza when she saw Damien’s truck parked at the Burger King. She didn’t want to go over by the truck and see him talking to another girl—that would really fuck up her day—but she couldn’t see that happening. She walked over to where he was and Damien was sitting on the passenger side talking to a girl standing outside the truck. She stood there in her tight Levi jeans, black Nine West boots, short black leather and long micro braids.
The girl’s real cute, Angela thought. She could feel the jealousy rising in her. She knew how bitches were and she knew Damien. He was a catch—he carried himself well and had that phat-ass truck—any ’ho’ be glad to get their hooks into him.
She made her way over to the truck. The young lady turned and looked at her. Damien turned to see who the girl was staring down and saw Angela standing there with a look in her eyes to cut.
“Can I talk with you?” she asked in a sharp tone, not being too polite.
“Yeah, hold on.” He turned to finish his conversation.
Angela never moved. She just stared into the truck at Damien.
“Look, it was nice meeting you,” Damien said to the girl as she walked away. Then he got out of the truck.
Angela watched as his winter-green Timbs hit the pavement and he stood in front of her with his green Phat Farm hoody.
“What’s your fuckin’ problem, Angela?”
“Why you out here with that bitch all in your face . . . like you just don’t have no respect for me?”
“My brother stopped over here, and she came to the truck and started talkin’ . . . not that I have to explain myself.”
She started to say something.
“Shut up! I don’t have time for this jealous shit.”
She put her hand up to his face. “Whatever.”
He grabbed her left arm and took a firm hold of her chin with his right hand. Then he pushed her against the truck, putting himself up against her so she couldn’t move. “You know who you fuckin’ with—I’ll split your muthafuckin’ skull and not think ’bout it. I’m not the one. You better get your shit right. Now carry your ass to class or home.” He pushed her and got back in the truck.
She walked back to her car with tears in her eyes. “I don’t have to put up with this shit,” she yelled as she headed back into the Hampton Tunnel. “He didn’t have to grab me—simple-ass muthafuckin’ Jamaican. I need a real man anyway, not a drug-dealin’ punk. Fuck you!” She yelled coming out the tunnel onto the bridge. She had told her mother she was going to stop by but decided instead to get herself together and go straight to work.
She was at work hating him, but every time the phone rang, she wished it was him. It seemed like the longest four hours, and he still hadn’t called.
The phone rang again. “Hello. Robinson, Madison, Fulton, and Williams.”
“Hello, Angela. It’s Mac. How’s your day goin’?”
“Fine. Just tired, and my day still not finished.”
“Thought I might see you later,” he said.
“I’m kind of tired, but I’ll call you when I get home.”
She stopped by her moms before going home and got there just in time for dinner.
“I know you’re going to eat.”
“No, I’m not really hungry.”
“Sit down and eat something. I don’t care if it’s a piece of corn bread, but you have to eat something,” her mother said, fixing her a plate.
They sat down and started to bless the food. Her little brother was holding her hand, squeezing it and playing. She looked at him and smiled. You’re something, she thought.
“Amen,” they said together when the prayer ended.
“You know I want you here early Thursday to help out. Your friend still comin’?” her mother asked.
“Yes. He asked me to go to a ski resort with him this weekend. Business and fun.”
“I don’t agree, but you have to make your own decisions now. Where is it anyway?”
“Colorado Mountains,” Angela said low.
Her mom looked at Ken. Ken just looked at her. He knew Thursday’s dinner was going to be very interesting.
The next morning Angela got up in a foul mood. Here she was, getting ready for a long weekend in Aspen, and she wasn’t excited. (Mac had come over the night before and showed her pictures of his deluxe, picture-perfect, mountainside condo in Snowmass Village.)
She went to her only class of the day to take a test. She scrambled to stay focused, but her mind kept wandering off, thinking about what she was going to say to Damien or how she was going to say it. She strolled around with a knot in her stomach that was keeping her from even thinking about eating. All she wanted was to be in Damien’s arms again and for things to be back to normal. Eventually, she buckled down, finished her test, then went home.
When she arrived, she found Mac sitting in front of her house. She forgot she told him she only had one class that morning. Angela really cared for Mac and enjoyed his company to no end, but he wasn’t who she wanted to see.
“Hello, Angela.” He opened her car door so she could get out.
“Hello, Mac. How you doin’ today?”
“I’m okay.”
“Mac, I don’t mean any harm—nor do I have anything to hide—but I don’t like unexpected visits. I would rather you call before coming over. I make my mother call and she pays the rent, feel me?”
Mac had a confused look on his face. “I don’t see the problem.”
“There isn’t a problem,” she said in a soft, sweet voice, “but next time, please call first.”
“Okay, I’ll hit you up first, if that’s what you want.”
They walked inside while he talked about how excited he was about the weekend and how good it was going to be to see the guys from his fraternity and investment group.
“I came by because we need to go to Ski World and get my baby prepared for the slopes.”
Angela put her things up and they headed out the door. She listened to him talk about the great time they had the previous year.
As he ran down the scenario, he noticed she was in another world. “Are you all right, Angela?”
“Yes, I’m fine; I just have a few things on my mind.” Angela felt she could open up and discuss anything with Mac—he wasn’t just somebody to fuck; he was her friend. But being on the outs with Damien was bringing her down, and she had to figure out a way to deal with it.
They arrived at Ski World and she began browsing at the skis, ski suits, hats, goggles. Together they picked out the necessary things and she tried them on to be safe. They had the counter filled, she couldn’t believe the total. This is when she realized how expensive the sport was.
She watched to see if Mac was going to pull out the fat knot like Damien, but he reached in his wallet and threw down his gold VISA credit card. He didn’t even have fifty dollars cash in his pocket.
“So is there anything else you need?”
“Long johns.”
He smiled. “Thermals.”
“Whatever.”
“Let’s go by Coliseum Mall. Then I can drop this offer off on this house that I received today.”
By the time Mac was dropping her off that evening, she saw the familiar cars in the front. Then she spotted Monica and Rome holding bags from The Package Store. They gave her a hand with her bags. Her and Mac said their good-byes, and he was out.
“What the hell is all this shit?” Rome asked.
“My girl goin’ to Aspen,” Monica told him. “Bitch goin’ to hit the slopes.”
“You ballin’, ain’t you, shorty?” Rome asked. “Got a nigga with a LX 450 Lexus and then this nigga pulling up with the big-boy 500.” He grinned. “Wonder I can’t get on.”
“And poor-ass Ray just couldn’t cut it when it came to the major players,” Monica said.
“It’s not even like that, y’all.”
“Bullshit. Who the fuck you think we are? You and Monica both know that if them niggas ain’t have no paper you’d still be fuckin’ with Ray boy. His brother told me and Joe you wrote that nigga a Dear John letter while he was away—that shit wa’n’ even right.”
“It ain’t your fuckin’ business anyway, Rome,” Angela said opening the door.
“I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to speak my mind. You don’t run shit here. Fuck I look like—one of those yes-niggas you fuck with?”
“Why you arguin’ with Rome, girl . . . actin’ like he yo’ goddamn man. Fuck him.”
“Naw, fuck both of y’all niggas. Better straighten out your act.”
When they walked in the living room, Angela realized that they had other company. Monica and Rome must have already been inside and ran to the store. She brought the smile back to her face as she greeted everyone. “Hello, everyone,” Angela said to Fat Joe, Quinn, and Monica’s brother. “What the deal, player?” Angela hugged Monica’s brother.
“Nothin’ at all, baby. Angela, this is Kim; Kim, Angela.” He turned to expose his friend. Angela shook her hand. The girl was tight as shit—nails done, hair done, eyebrows arched, and was wearing an outfit that complemented her body well. Angela didn’t expect anything different from him.
