Page 60 of Desire

We went to the kitchen and sat at the table. Quinton placed the envelope he held in the center of the table.

“It smells amazing. What’s for lunch?” he asked.

“Oh, we had leftover—” Desire began.

“Nothing, nigga. We’re not feeding your ass. What’s in the envelope?”

“Baby, don’t be rude. I’ll make you a plate, Quinton,” she offered. “Do you like stuffed bell peppers?”

“I’ve never had them, but they must be good based on their aroma,” he told Desire before looking at me with a satisfied grin. “You could learn some manners from your wife.”

He emptied the envelope, and the first thing I noticed were screenshots of messages. By the time he laid everything out on the table, Desire had made him a plate. I honestly didn’t mind feeding him, but I’d planned to eat the last of the leftovers, so I was low-key pissed.

“Damn, she’s beautiful, and she can cook. You’d better treat her right, man. This is delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can you tell us what all this shit is while you’re feeding your face?”

“My bad, bruh. I gotchu. Okay, the number you sent me this morning was connected to Flikstagram accounts for all but one of the messages.”

“Damn, I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.”

“What number?” Desire asked.

“Tammy’s.”

“I knew she was trash. You need to fire her ass right now.”

“Calm down, baby. She’s as good as gone. Quinton, I need to know if the last message was connected to that number.”

“That’s the only one that wasn’t, and as of now, my guy hasn’t been able to determine the number of the account it’s connected to. He’s still working on it and hopes it won’t take much longer.”

“I’m pissed about the messages Tammy sent, but in the big scheme of things, she’s harmless. That last message was a threat, and I need to know who’s behind it.”

“I agree, and we’re on it. Do you have any more?—”

“Nigga, your job here is done. No more food until you tell me what I need to know,” I told him, pulling him from the chair and ushering him toward the front door.

“If that’s the case, I’ll have what you need by dinner. What are you cooking, beautiful?”

“Out!”

I pushed Quinton out of my house and stepped outside with him.

“I appreciate you doing this for me and keeping it on the low,” I told him as we walked to his car.

“You know it’s never a problem. I’m about to meet up with my tech guy. I send shit to him every other day, and he never fails me. He’ll figure it out.”

“Cool. Hit me up as soon as he does.”

We exchanged a one-armed hug and parted ways. I waited until the gate closed behind him to go inside. Desire was no longer in the kitchen, and the family room was empty. I went upstairs to our bedroom and heard the shower.

“Why is she—oh, shit!”

I quickly disrobed and rushed into the bathroom. My wife was in the shower, sitting on the bench with her legs open.

“Join me. I want to suck your dick.”

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