How hard is it to sneak a man inside my house?
I have to count the ways.
For Dávonte, he makes everything seems easy.
Not when there's a party going on up the hill and his vehicle has to pass through the crowd.
Eh man change vehicle tu pussyclaat.
Mih use to the white Crown, the Audi, the black Mark X and the 400 Ninja sport bike. Now it's a voxy wid a red plate.
Flanker marked on the sides.
Seems mih blessed wid night vision fih si dat.
But a wah dis Mister Slaughter wah call dung pah mih.
Him come out mask up and with a hoodie over his head. In all black from head to toe, and if not for the moonlight, I'm sure his jeweleries would been blinding me as it does in the daylight.
An how mih si the words on the taxi, mih neighbor light.
Three bags in his hands that he took from the backseat.
From my kitchen window, I watched him approached the front door and pushed it opened.
"Queen!" He calls lowly, and I walked out to see him removing his Clarks.
Cyaw find nothing darker than him shoes.
The bags, two are Progressive groceries, a much larger black one and the other is cooked food he bought on the way.
"Yuh go mek dem feel mih a sell pussy to man from all bout enuh. Flanker taxi. Really Mister Slaughter?" I stood akimbo and he flipped the light on after locking the door.
Neva wah nobody a see nothing.
"A my vehicle." He grins.
"Dats all yuh get from wah mih seh?" I hissed, putting the glass of pineapple juice to my lips.
He came and took it, drinking it all then puts the glass back in my hand.
"Hurry mon, mih hungry." He frowned, putting the bags on my small dinning table.
He went to the kitchen to have his hands washed.
Rolling my eyes, I loosen the bag handles he tied and starts unpacking. Rice, sugar, flour, salt and maggi seasoning, box of cock soup and coconut powder, red peas and other major items.
Looking at the receipt, I looked at him and frowned. "I would've said something but beggars can't be choosers."
He hummed in agreement.
The larger black bag is loaded with meat and fish kind.
As a man that owns a farm and a butcher or meat shop, I'm even supplying my parents with whatever I can.
That means more meat in our plates than food sometimes.
Pouring us some drinks, I gave him his own and sat across from him with my own food.
A large chicken and fries, looking like a bloody crime scene from the ketchup. Just how I love it.
Exactly how him know mih love it.
Dávonte Káron Slaughter is the type of man who does things in quiet.
Someone who I might fall in love with but shouldn't expect the same from him.
A man who I can't introduce my family to, but he'll stay in the background and make sure they're good for my sake.
He's the type Alkaline sings about, being the man who say he doesn't know how to show his love. I'm well aware that he's doing what he believes he can't for me.
YOU ARE READING
Stake His Claim (Paused)
Kurzgeschichten"Mih don't know wah me did a think mih head did mash up. An a who tell yuh fih falla me because me neva seh suh. Please tell me that I'm dreaming, oh gosh, no..." I opened the door and almost screamed to see Slaughter standing here serious wih blood...
