“The ghetto?! I grew up in a million-dollar house! What are you talking about?” Morgan protested.
“I’m talking about how you were one way in London and we come back here and you’re a completely different girl, Mo. What the fuck is up? You’re wearing my ring and hopping on motorcycles with bums who won’t be more than the neighborhood thug.”
“He’s not a thug.” She knew she was dick-whipped because she didn’t even mean to defend him. The accusation that the man in her bed was nothing more than a statistic pissed her off however.
“Don’t defend your side nigga to me!” Bash shouted, pointing a stern finger at her. His face burned with aggression.
“He’s not a side nigga!” There she went again with her defending. How could someone so important to her be a side anything? Ahmeek Harris was the main dish, the turkey on Thanksgiving, and if he was a side, he was Macaroni and Cheese because that’s what everyone loved the most on the holiday anyway.
“I can’t do this right now. Please, I promise. We’ll talk but just leave. My head is pounding, and I just don’t want to fight.” She walked to the door and held it open.
“You’re serious right now?” Bash asked. “I’m not going nowhere until you explain your fucking self. Are you fucking that nigga?”
The more upset he got the louder the argument became. Morgan turned away from him so that he wouldn’t see her tear-filled eyes. She needed him to leave … she couldn’t handle a confrontation. She didn’t want it to get out of hand. It wasn’t until this very moment that she realized how risky her affair with Ahmeek was. She should have been fearful of Bash discovering Meek but in her twisted heart she feared Ahmeek waking up to find Bash inside her apartment, inside their bubble.
He was in front of her now, finger in her face, hand wrapped around her neck as he pushed her hard into the door. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock. He was walking a fine line as his fingers tightened around her throat.
“You don’t want to do this, Bash,” she said. She stared him in the eyes, brow lifted. “I said we can talk. Later. When I’m ready. And you might want to loosen your grip before you do something stupid. At that point it’ll no longer be in my hands.” Bash slammed a hard hand to the door. It was so close to her head that Morgan jumped.
“You fucked him, didn’t you? You got me out here waiting until you’re ready but you’re sleeping with him?”
“Wasn’t no sleeping, homie. Wasn’t no waiting neither and those hands around her neck like that … it’s a bad fucking idea.”
Morgan’s body froze. Her stomach fell out of her. She was sure it was on the floor. The tears she had been holding in fell as she turned to face Ahmeek. He came out of the room in sweatpants, his Ralph Lauren boxers showing as they hung slightly off his waist. He was shirtless revealing ink and abs, abs she had traced with her tongue just hours before. His forehead wrinkled as his brow bent. Morgan was ashamed that her clit pulsed. He was so damned fine with his pretty boy looks, mean boy vibes, and his fuck boy dick print. He wasn’t one, but damn if he didn’t have the type of dick to ruin a bitch’s life. He was in fact, ruining her life … tearing up a relationship that had been perfectly fine before he had shown her how good it could feel to be loved on by a real nigga. He didn’t lie, didn’t conceal, didn’t control. Morgan’s heart ached so good that she couldn’t stop the smile that played at the corners of her mouth. He leaned against the wall, chewing on the inside of his jaw, something he did when he was holding back anger. A bad habit. The taste of blood filled his mouth and he rubbed one hand down his waves. He pulled on his beard before locking one hand around the opposite wrist. He was so calm, but Morgan knew that was a bad thing. She knew there were no civil thoughts going through Ahmeek’s head.
Bash couldn’t do anything but react. He was so enraged he pushed Morgan hard against the door, banging her head against the wood before crossing the room toward Ahmeek. “What the fuck did you just say to…” Before Bash could even finish his sentence Ahmeek came off the wall. Morgan watched in horror. They were like two freight trains on the same track headed for one another. Ahmeek scooped Bash, sending him back first into her glass coffee table. Ahmeek didn’t care that it was shards of glass everywhere, he let them cut into the bottoms of his feet as he straddled Bash, delivering vicious blows to his jaw.
He clicked out. All logic went out the window. The sickening crack of bones breaking made Morgan place hands over her mouth. She hadn’t wanted this. She knew she was to blame. This brutal beating was a result of her dishonesty and Bash was undeserving.
Ahmeek’s fist crashed across Bash’s face again and Morgan recoiled. It was like she could feel the blow. Meek put a knee to Bash’s neck and with one hand pressed his face hard into the glass.
“Arghh!” Bash cried out.
“Ahmeek!” Morgan said. “Stop! He’s had enough!”
Meek bit down into his bottom lip because he didn’t leave food on his plate. Any man he had ever put hands on he had put dirt on too. Morgan didn’t want that however.
“Meek! I said stop! I could have handled it. You should have just stayed out of it!”
He lifted squinted eyes to her and then looked down at Bash who was barely conscious. Bash rolled onto his side groaning. Ahmeek scoffed. He lifted, flexing his injured fist, open and close, to make sure it wasn’t broken. He gritted his teeth, temple throbbing.
He flicked his nose in irritation and then ran his tongue across his top row of teeth before he nodded. “Your nigga, your business Mo,” he said as he retreated to the bedroom. Morgan’s lip quivered as she bent down.
“I’m sorry,” she said, frowning. She shook her head as she helped him up to the couch. Ahmeek emerged fully dressed, keys in hand.
“Meek,” she called after him. Morgan’s lip trembled as she sprang from the couch and rushed after him. He made it all the way to the hallway before she caught him, grabbing his hand. He jerked away from her and Morgan stopped.
“So you’re just gonna leave?” she asked. “I didn’t say I wanted you to leave but that wasn’t necessary! You niggas and your fucking anger issues!”
Ahmeek advanced on her, pinning her against the wall and pointing a stern finger in her face. “Ain’t no you niggas. Ain’t no issues in my head or my heart, Morgan. I ain’t Messiah. I ain’t Isa. I don’t fucking pop off unless it’s necessary. Niggas don’t run up on me and live to tell about it. The nigga had his hand wrapped around your throat but I’m the bad guy? Fuck out of here.”
“Just calm down, please,” she whispered.
Meek raised both hands in surrender and back pedaled.
“I’m calm. I’m out of it, Mo,” he said. He took the air in her lungs with him as he left. Morgan walked back into her apartment and Bash burned a hole in her with his stare. He sat on the couch, leaned onto his elbows, head drooping as he licked blood from his lip. Morgan went to the kitchen retrieving a wet towel before returning to Bash.
She tried to place it to his bloody face, but Bash snatched it from her hands, opting to do it himself.
Morgan’s soul left her body as she exhaled. “I really didn’t want you to find out this way. I’ve been unhappy for a long time, Bash,” she said, her voice low.