“Fuck you talking about? We talking about feelings now nigga?” Meek chastised, face bent in frustration. “Count this money, bruh. I ain’t speaking on Mo.”
“I’m just saying nigggaaaaa. That pussy gotta bang cuz Mo out here casting spells like this shit is bewitched,” Isa said, laughing.
Meek shook his head, leaning forward on his elbows but offered no response.
“Shorty got ass for days. I’d be chin deep in that shit, my nigga. I heard that shit sliding down a nigga throat like Rosé. Call that bitch mo-wet.”
Ahmeek’s entire body went still and he sucked his front teeth, running his tongue along the inside of his jawline as his forehead dipped.
“Yo bruh go get that bottle out the fridge, let’s pop one,” Ahmeek stated, calmly. It was the type of tranquility that made everything go silent when a storm was approaching.
“Hell yeah, I’m with it. I ain’t got nowhere to be,” Beans stated, eyes on the game. Isa shook his head.
“Here we go,” Isa muttered as he went to retrieve the bottle.
Ahmeek finessed his beard and then rubbed his hands together until Isa returned with the bottle.
“You say that pussy slide down a nigga throat like Moet?” Ahmeek asked looking at Beans, deadpanning on him with so much conviction that his malice wasn’t to be missed.
Beans froze. “Nigga you for real, right now? You cappin’ over pussy, my nigga. As much pussy as we done tossed up. You hit ’em and pass ’em down homie. Pass that shit the fuck down when you done.” Beans chuckled.
Isa groaned. “Say less my nigga, damn.”
Meek popped the top on the champagne, sending the cork flying. He tipped it to his mouth and out of nowhere he brought the bottle crashing into the side of Beans’s face. He hit him so hard that the bottle broke, sending glass deep into Ahmeek’s hand. Meek didn’t let up. He gripped Beans’s collar as he delivered audible blows to Beans’s bloody face.
“Call that bitch what? Mo-wet, nigga? You want to know what it tastes like sliding down your throat?”
Meek drew on him, placing his gun right beneath Beans’s chin.
“Yo’ Meek! Man! I ain’t mean no disrespect! Isa man!” Beans screamed.
Isa sat disinterested with his eyes following the game. “Nah, G, that’s all you. You got it. That Mo-wet crack about to getcho ass wet the fuck up. Better start praying.”
“I just want to know what you said, G, cuz I know I had to hear that shit wrong? What you say you call her? Mo-wet?”
“Nah man! No! I ain’t know you was fucking with it like that! Isa was joking. I was just playing man! I’m sorry!”
“What you call her nigga?” Meek sneered.
“Nothing!” the man cried.
Meek pushed him off with so much aggression that Beans fell across the table, fucking up the count.
“That’s right, bitch ass nigga. You don’t call her nothing. Matter fact when you see her you better lower your fucking eyes, pussy. Goofy ass nigga. I’ll fuck yo’ bitch then put one between her fucking eyes for that silly ass shit you just said, nigga.” Ahmeek was straddling Beans, barking at him, gripping his collar.
“Yo’ bruh, let the nigga breathe man,” Isa said, chuckling. “Cuz I ain’t recounting this shit. Make his ass do it.”
Meek pushed Beans to the floor and backpedaled. He was foaming at the mouth he was so pissed.
“Clean this nigga up, man. Bleeding all over my motherfucking money,” Meek uttered as he stormed out the room.
He retreated to the kitchen, snatching open the refrigerator, pulling out water because Morgan had him thirsty. The ways he needed to be quenched in her moisture, drenched in her wet, was ridiculous. As Ahmeek tilted the bottle to his lips his heart dipped. Yes, he was thirsty as fuck. He wrapped his bloody hand in a towel and then ran both hands down his head. Morgan had him on ice. No communication. It had been a week since he’d seen her and he was going crazy. Being away from her had him out of character. He was acting without thought, punishing niggas because she was punishing him. It shouldn’t feel this impossible to move around a woman. He had done it before. To dozens. He wasn’t shit if he had made them feel this. Morgan had his mind so fucked up that all he wanted to do was mob. He hadn’t slept in days. Life had turned into twenty-four-hour cycles of getting money or getting high. He was blown. He wouldn’t press her however. It was like she was his karma for all the hearts he had broken, all the women he had used as playthings over the years. Morgan was playing with him like he was a toy for her enjoyment and Ahmeek couldn’t get her off his mind.
* * *
Morgan lay in bed, eyes to the ceiling, tears sliding into her ears as her mind tortured her. Messari’s feet were directly next to her face. His wild tossing and turning had turned him upside down in her bed. Morgan turned her head, letting a tear fall with gravity as she planted a kiss to his perfect little toes.
“Mommy,” Yara signed.
Morgan turned her head the other way, staring into the bright eyes of her baby girl. “Where’s Poppa?” she signed.
Morgan’s lip quivered, and she trapped it quickly forcing a smile.
Your daddy’s dead baby. He left me, and he never came back.
The thought tore up everything in its path. Utter destruction. Morgan couldn’t contain the sadness.
“He’s back at home in London baby. You know the big house?” Morgan signed.
Yara nodded.
“He’s there.”
Morgan was relieved that Bash had been called away for work. He wouldn’t be back until graduation. It gave her time to think but Morgan’s heart and her mind were screaming two different things. They were at war and she couldn’t decide which one to trust. She wasn’t sure about anything at this point. The seeds of doubt that Bash had put into her head were growing. Doubt about Ahmeek’s intentions made her ignore every attempt he made to reach out.
“Where is Meekie, Mommy?” Yara signed.
Morgan had to turn her head away as her lips pulled tight in angst and her chest quaked. Morgan rolled up and laid Yara down. “Lie down Yolly Pop. It’s time for bed,” she signed. “Good night. Mama loves you.”
She turned on the night light and fled the room. She gripped her phone so tightly that it felt like it would break. She pressed the home button and her fingerprint unlocked the screen. She was in her pictures before she could stop herself. When she saw his face she crumbled, sliding down the wall until her butt touched the floor. She tucked her legs beneath her, Indian style, and gazed at the four of them. It had been the most perfect day. The zoo. The smile on all of their faces told a story of love wrapped in exhaustion because they had walked around the exhibits all day.
She couldn’t even describe the ways she missed him. Morgan gripped her phone in both hands, bringing them to her forehead, and putting elbows to knees. She just wanted to shut off her feelings. To make everything go dark. She had felt that way before. In that garage. Years ago. She had just wanted it all to go away. Morgan didn’t understand why this felt like that. The only difference was Morgan couldn’t even fathom hurting herself. Meek had acknowledged the bitch in her, the fighter, he had said. So even though she was dying without him, she couldn’t do anything but feel the shit. He had called her strong and although many people had told her that before, he was the first person she had ever believed.