Page 22 of Quasim: King Inferno

I had no problem moving on and building with another man. They would never be Quasim, but life moves on, and I could do the same.

Quasim

Past

Her hands held onto her coffee mug as her misty eyes avoided mine, and I leaned against the counter. The ticking of the wall clock that Gams had gifted for our housewarming sounded as we were both at a standstill.

Tick…

Tock…

The shit was driving me up the wall as I stared at Cherie, and she did everything to avoid eye contact with me. She, too scared to speak and me – too angry to form the correct words. I, more than anyone, knew how much words hurt, and you couldn’t take them back once they were out there.

Harley was in her bedroom down for a nap, and we both knew raising our voices was out the question. The minute any of us raised our voices, she would be up, searching our eyes to see if the love was still there for each other. My baby girl was such an empath.

I always wondered where she got it from, and Gams said it was from me. Said I had been the same way when I was her age. Always attuned with everyone else’s emotions and never my own. It was a gift and curse that I hated having, because I felt things ten times more than the average person.

Something that someone else would shake off, it wasn’t that easy for me. I got caught up on the smallest shit that shouldn’t have mattered. I hated feeling at times, because it made me feel like a weaker man for it.

“You want me to be cool with you going to visit his mother and then running into him?” I finally had gotten my words together and was able to ask her.

My tone was low, barely audible, but she heard me loud and clear as if I yelled it with a blow horn. Cherie put the mug down and finally looked at me, her straight hair pinned on top of her head.

The blonde highlights mixed with her naturally sandy brown hair. Cherie had thick curly hair, but she preferred to keep her hair straightened, which she had for most of our relationship. The only time I got the privilege of seeing her hair curly was if it was a wash day. Before I could run my hand through her hair, she was already blow drying it and putting heat on it with the flat iron.

“She was sick, Quasim. What did you expect me to do? Act like I didn’t know her or something?”

I looked at my sneaker, still with the sock pulled over the front of the shoe. “That’s exactly how I want you to act.”

“Now you get to decide who I can and cannot talk with? His mother didn’t do anything, and she has always been respectful.” Cherie had this thing where she pushed my buttons and for a while, I used to enjoy it.

Whenever she showed defiance, I would bend her ass over and fuck the shit out of her until she fell in line. It was a gamewe played; she loved when I took control, and I needed to be in control. As time went on, I stopped liking the defiance because the shit she was doing was coming down on me. It wasn’t cute to have niggas looking at you like you couldn’t handle your woman.

I came from a line of real niggas that held down the streets and their home, never skipping a beat. I was raised by a real nigga that handled his business but made it home to tell his kids and wife he loved them before heading back out there.

My mother knew what she signed up for when she got with my father. Knew what was expected of her, and she held him down. He never had to question if she was doing funny shit because she wasn’t. Mina Inferno was his rock, the woman that carried his last name along with his children.

He could trust her without a doubt, and I was having trouble doing the same when it came to Cherie. Loyalty couldn’t be split between two sides, and she was desperately trying to show me that it could, and it was making her look bad.

“My Pops shouldn’t tell me what my fucking girl is doing and who he saw her with.”

“Your father is watching me because he doesn’t trust me, Quasim. What part don’t you understand when it comes to that? Even after having your baby, living together, and being together, Quinton Inferno doesn’t trust me.”

“Do you not see why the fuck he doesn’t trust you, Cherie?”

She paused as she got down from the stool. “Fuck you, Quasim. If you don’t trust me then why are you with me? To prove a point to Rich? To show him that you got the prize and you’re not giving it up.”

“I don’t have to prove shit. Not when the prize wants a different winner.”

She cut her eyes at me and walked over toward the sink, sitting her mug inside. “I asked you if my past was going to be aproblem… you said it wouldn’t. Here we are with a home, child, and Rich is still a problem. Just admit you are jealous, Sim.”

Cherie loved to flip shit back on me. It was her that was caught visiting Rich’s mom and having lunch with him. Yet, she was flipping this around on me, and trying to use the insecure card on me, when I was very secure. I knew Rich didn’t bring shit that I did to the table.

It was the reason he hid behind the Chrome Vipers, never tough enough to stand tall with them. He was better hiding behind them and whispering the shots. Rich thought he was that nigga, until I showed him who was really that nigga. I wore that Inferno flame on my vest proudly and rode behind my father with my head held high. There was no whispering shit, we were the niggas that were yelling the shots and stood on that shit.

I pinned her between the sink and counter. “You just be saying shit, huh? Why would I ever be jealous of that nigga when you in my bed, begging to choke on my dick, Cherie… it’s not jealousy, it’s called fucking respect and yo disrespectful ass don’t have any.”

“Oh, because I should carry myself like your mother… according to your father. I am not Mina, and I’m not about to run around acting like her. You fell in love with me because I wasn’t a yes woman… didn’t march to your beat.”

---