Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 43- Lucifer

It plucks my last nerve to watch Lynch limp his ass out of J.D. Lewis & Sons Funeral Home.

I came close to putting his ass in one of our damn caskets and burying it. At least we made our position clear. This was his one and only "peace" meeting.

The only way to head off a full-scale war against his weak-ass crew is to hand over Trigger and his multi-flagging bitch, Shariffa—something no real nigga would ever do. His balls are in a vise. He knows it. We know it. The storage room's heavy door slams shut behind Lynch and his crew.

"You were very busy?" Mason asks. "You didn't tell me that you were going after those girls today."

"I didn't know I had to clear shit with you. It was a personal errand. I took care of it."

"I don't know what's gotten into you lately," he says. "Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off? Tell me because I'm starting to think my coming back has thrown a monkey wrench into your plans."

"Whatever. Do what you want to do." Rolling my eyes, I turn to march off, but Mason grabs me by my arm.

My emotions are a tinderbox and I erupt and flail punches at his head. "Don't you fucking touch me, you bastard!" Dice and our crew creep out of the room.

"What in the hell?" He wrestles to get control of my hands. "What has gotten into you, goddamn it?"

"You and that pig-bitch's picture that's in your fucking pocket," I shout. "You're still in love with that bitch and yet you crawl into my bed, lying about how much you fucking love me! How stupid do you think I am? I'm not going to be your rebound bitch!"

"What? Calm down! Have you lost your damn mind? I'm not in love with that lying piece of dead shit. What the fuck?"

"Liar!" I free one hand and land a punch against the side of his head.

"I saw the picture! You've been carrying it around the whole time while you were gone. Probably dreaming for months about her stretched-out pussy that you and that snake-loving bastard were sharing. Well, fuck you!"

"A picture?" He ducks my next swing and then grabs hold of my hand again. "This is over a goddamn picture? You gotta be shittin' me. That picture has been in my wallet for years. I never look at the damn thing. I just didn't take it out."

He shoves me away from him. "Here. If it'll make you feel better." Mason reaches into his back pocket and removes his wallet. "I'll tear it up," he shouts.

I glare at him, my chest heaving like I've gone a ten-round bout with Floyd Mayweather. Mason pulls out Sasha's picture, rips it into tiny pieces, and then tosses them over his shoulder. "There. Are you happy now? The bitch means nothing to me. I love your crazy, homicidal ass."

I struggle to hang onto my anger, but it's quickly slipping into embarrassment. Mason sucks in a deep breath and crosses his arms. "You ain't got nothing to say?" I'm caught flat-footed with no way to get out of this.

"Do you love me, Leah?" he asks, softly. My eyes well up. I don't like being vulnerable.

Mason unfolds his arms and moves toward me. The closer he gets, the stronger I fight the urge to throw my arms around him and asks for his forgiveness. I've been a raging, jealous hormonal bitch lately and I have little experience in apologizing to people. He draws me into his arms.

"Look at me," he orders. I hesitate because my eyes are burning. Don't cry. "Leah," he says gently.

Reluctantly, I look up. "I'm going to tell you this—and I want you to believe me because I mean it with all of my heart. I love you. I've loved you for so long that I can't remember a time when I didn't love you. The only reason that I never acted on it when we were younger was out of respect for my friendship with your brother. And I regret that. I can't tell you how much. You're not now, nor will you ever be, the rebound chick. Sasha was."

Tears race down my face as he leans over and captures my lips into the sweetest kiss I've ever tasted. I hate to be the kind of bitch who melts like a romance heroine—but that's exactly what I'm doing as his tongue dives into my mouth.

My arms drift up his chest and then steal around his neck to draw him closer. We remain lip-locked until my lungs beg for oxygen. Even then, his lips glide over to nuzzle my neck and pepper my collarbone.

"I love you," he whispers. "Do you love me?"

"Deeply," I confess. "I'm in love with you." I Tell him. "And I'm going to have your baby." Mason's body goes still.

I freeze as well and hold my breath. Finally, he leans back and looks down at me. "What did you say?"

My heart pounds against my rib cage, but I keep my eyes level with his. "I'm pregnant." Shock is too mild to describe his expression.

"Baby, are you sure?" I nod. "I'm almost five months." His eyes zoom to my belly and a new understanding emerges.

"I'm about to be . . .You're pregnant! Holy shit!" He sweeps me up and spins me around. "Fuck yeah! I'm gonna be a damn daddy!"