Page 44 of Deuce

“Actually, it was only five of us growing up and we weren’t all in the same house. My father has six children by four different women. Mia only came to us about five years ago.”

“So, your dad was a ho?”

He laughed. “He’s still a ho. Just a ho with a vasectomy. He claims that Mia’s mom is his woman now, but I don’t buy that shit. Not with the way he’s still after my mama.”

“Wait… do they share him? All of them?”

“I don’t get in that man’s business like that. They grown. If they wanna share, that’s on them.”

“You share women with your brothers?”

“You just think the worst of me, don’t you? Like damn, woman. Get to know a nigga before you concoct a story about me in your head. What if I judged you based on what Jaeda found about you?”

“There’s nothing to judge.”

“What if there was?”

I shrugged. “I guess I’d be pissed.”

“Exactly. You don’t know me, baby. All you know is what your little friend has told you about my family or what you may have heard from the streets. You wouldn’t know that I holda master’s degree in forensic psychology. You wouldn’t know that I bought up a block of black-owned businesses to keep those money hungry white folks from building a fucking parking lot. You wouldn’t know that my family sponsors seventy-five families every Thanksgiving and Christmas or that I protect people like your beloved Mr. Luckey from wanna be street thugs. Yeah… I put bullets in muthafuckas that deserve it. I fuck nothing but dime pieces. I might even trick off a lil bit if the pussy is good. That’s what I do. It ain’t who I am.”

I was quiet. Ididn’tknow all those things. Maybe I judged him. Maybe there was more to him than meets the eye. Sitting up straight, I cleared my throat.

“I’m sorry, okay? Tell me, who are you, Stanley Dillinger.”

“It’s Deuce.”

“Why do you hate your name?”

“Do I look like a fucking Stanley to you?”

“But you’re named after your father. I’m sure that’s someone you love and respect.”

“I do, but that name ain’t the business.”

“Well Deuce is a number not a name.”

“It’s what I will answer to.”

“Well, how about Stan?”

“Salima, you pushing it.”

I laughed. The look on his face was serious, and I could tell that he really felt some type away about being named Stanley. He tried not to smile, but it failed him.

“I think you like fucking with me,” he said.

I shrugged. “No more than you like fucking with me. So… tell me who you are.”

He pulled up in front of my house and put the car in park. Leaning back in his seat, he looked at me. “I’m a man about action. I’ll show you better than I can tell you. I guess you’re gonna have to wait for that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

“Come here.”

“Nah, you want me, you come here.”

He smirked as he sat up in his seat. He reached out and cupped my chin. What I thought was going to be a cute gesture was anything but that when his hand dropped and his fingers wrapped around my throat. Roughly he pulled me to him. I don’t know why that shit turned me on so bad. A moan slipped from my lips.

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