D.R.I.P

Chapter 3 (Ah'Jhene)

      After getting my pussy fucked by Rashad for nearly two hours I needed to hurry up and make it back home to Quincy. It was passed my curfew. This was a no no. If I didn't make it home by 2am there would be problems. Serious problems. Quincy didn't play that shit at all. 

    Quincy was my Puerto Rican papi... literally! He was Puerto Rican with a short curly Afro with a taper . His smile was gorgeous with pearly whites and dimples. His body was toned and muscular and his heavy Bronx accent was strong. Not to mention Quincy was a charming ass hustler. All the bitches wanted him. He rocked with high end drug dealers and made serious money. Quincy was the type of nigga with many connections and had everything he wanted including me.

    Rashad was my side nigga, but I cared for him too.  Rashad was sexy as hell and bitches craved him. He was 6'4 and tatted with a fade. He was the down to earth type. He had this natural thug like kind of presence and was no stranger to makin money either, but Quincy was not to be fucked with. He would kill a nigga over me. No bullshit. Quincy was the type of nigga to shoot yo brains out and laugh about it. I couldn't get Rashad tied up into that.

    Being in love with two niggas was hard. My grandpa always told me never to fall for two people and here I was. I know you're probably wondering how the hell I ended up in this shit in the first place.

    As much as I loved my Puerto Rican papi, I was so tired of being neglected and alone. Having a nigga like Quincy was hard. He took care of me financially and I didn't need for nothing except his affection. I know he loved me, but I was the type of woman who liked men to cater to me. As cliche as it sounds I liked dates, long walks on the beach and quality time. Quincy used to do all that when we first got together, but his clientele got too big and he became a distant stranger.

    I met Rashad at a very vulnerable time in my life. When Quincy was away Rashad was there for me. I didn't mean to fall for him, it just happened. Rashad was the type of nigga who knew how to maintain a relationship and make his money and that shit was attractive.

   The hotel room we shared that night was so luxurious and beautiful. It was 5 stars for sure. It had a spa tub, a balcony and a king size bed. Rashad knew that I wouldn't have it any other way. He knew that he couldn't be cheap on me like he could with his other bitches who only wanted to be in his presence.

    After I took a shower Rashad was staring at me while I dressed myself back into my original clothes. "I hate to leave so early. He's on his way from the airport." I expressed with grief while referring to Quincy. By now I was in his arms. " You sure he ain't gone wonder why you lookin so damn good?" He teased before kissing my lips. Damn his kisses were like a taste of heaven. "It's good baby, we'll catch up like always." He reminded me. I didn't say another word before grabbing my night bag and leaving the hotel.

    The ride home was another thing. I was mad at Quincy with this quote on quote surprise about coming home early. He never did this before and he just fucked up my lavish night with Rashad with that phone call.

    I made it home by 2:15, but I was not too thrilled. I mean I did miss Quincy, but he was missing out. He should of made more time for me. It was becoming  too easy not having him around.

    I walked in the house and spotted Quincy sitting on the sofa. He was organizing money on the coffee table like always. He was wearing a white button up with slack pants and expensive dress shoes. I could see his strong muscles through the shirt and smell his expensive cologne. He was smiling hard as he was happy to see me. "Come here ma." He said while pouring the finest champagne in a wine glass. He stood up to greet me as I rushed in for a hug.

    Surprisingly a hug is not what I got. He clinched onto my hair and yanked my head back. "You know what fuckin time it is?!" He roared. "You're hurting me Quincy!" I pleaded as he did not let go. He yanked as he spoke to me like trash. " The fuck was you doin?! Out fuckin anotha nigga?!" He questioned. "Baby no! I was just out with the Tyra!" I lied when mentioning my best friend. He then used his force and pushed me down to the wood floor by my head. I was on the ground in tears. He never did me like this before. He stared at me as I cried with no expression. Then he squat down while lifting his pants legs by the knees. "I don't know if you were fuckin another nigga, but ima make sho you don't." He said. "Now go change your clothes. You look like a slut." He finished calmly before walking away.

Thank God my son was away with the other side of his family. Thank God He was not here to witness this. I never wanted my son to be a nigga like Quincy.