Page 36 of In Too Deep

“Nah, no ma’am, this is more than enough.” I told her as I staggered to the pantry to get a paper plate. “Just make sure when you’re done, you take the knives and shit wit’ you.”

Hearing that, she turned around and eyed me suspiciously for a second before proceeding back to doing what held her attention captive. “

“Yes sir,” she responded.

“And what I tell you about that, sir shit? Do I look like my father?”

“You actually do,” she giggled.

“You know what,” I chuckled and wagged my finger in her direction.

Everything I felt like Synthia could eat, I put on the plate. From watching her eat the other day, I could tell she wasn’t one of those picky ass eaters who didn’t like their food touching, because the plate was filled with all types of shit. There was orange juice placed in a red solo cup and chopped up fruit served in a plastic bowl. Hopefully, a plate full of food will subside for the damage I’d done earlier this morning. The way to a woman’s heart ain’t dick, it’s food and a stack of money, and I got that.

Entering the room, she was sitting up, looking like she was drifting off into a daze, with glossy eyes. She didn’t even look over at me when I entered the room and made myself visible.

“I figured you were hungry, so I had my housekeeper cook up some shit for you,” I spoke gently as I placed the tray on the bed and the cup on the nightstand. “How you feelin’ Juicy?”

Her eyelashes batted at the wall, and her breathing was steady, so she wasn’t hyperventilating or having a panic attack. Any signs indicating that she was in pain were null too.

“I know you hear me,” I muttered, standing over her. “My housekeeper, Lola, whipped up some good shit. Her pancakes are fluffy as hell, and she cooked her eggs after frying the bacon. The French toast is fye as hell too. Try some of this shit to put something on yo stomach. I know you’re hungry.”

Beside the cup, I placed the tray on the nightstand and picked up a piece of bacon so I could feed it to her. She frowned and turned her head it away from me. The asshole in me continued to fuck with her, but she didn’t bulge, still ignoring me, giving me the silent treatment.

“You need anything?”

Stubbornly, she continued to ignore me, her silence heavy and infuriating, so I walked out, slamming the door behind me. As I staggered down the hall, I heard something clash against the wall, which indicated that she’d thrown the tray of food. I halted my steps and clenched my jaw. The thought lingered heavy on my mind to go back in the master bedroom and show the fuck out, but I didn’t. Her throwing hissy fits was normal, but acting like a tick in my ass was her showing a common characteristic of being related to Trecee. It’d been twenty four hours since I’d gotten any sleep, but with a demon clawing at my back, a good night of rest wouldn’t come any time soon.

Work wasn’t stopping, but I needed to wash my ass before handling business and tending to Telo Wireless. I had to start on my iPhone count and speak with the plug about what went down and the cyber security chip shit, just in case another niggaor bitch grew balls bigger than Texas and got the urge to try me again.

“You need to eat,Juicy. I want to keep you thick. Despite what you think you know about me. My bitches need to be two sum to do sum.”

Romelo’s voice echoed in the back of my mind. For days, I’ve been starving myself. I didn’t have the urge to eat shit this freak ass nigga cooked for me or whoever cooked it related to him. He could be trying to poison me, and I couldn’t trust being in the same room with him let alone trapped in fucking house. I haven’t seen sunlight in days, and the only time I left the room was to piss. Drinking water was all that stood between me and death, each sip a desperate fight for survival. What pained me was that people weren’t looking for me. It’s not like me to disappear off the face of the earth without so much as a goodbye note. I didn’t hear any helicopters either, unless Romelo setup something behind my back so I couldn’t be traced. I didn’t have my phone, so I couldn’t call for help or use it for my entertainment.

I ventured over to the bed and rummaged through the multiple bags of clothes he had purchased for me. There were shopping bags from PINK, Nike, and Walmart. Romelo dropped them off days ago, but I had no use for them or anything else he offered me. I was justthatpissed off at him and the situation. His actions were the same, and while I never left the room, that didn’t stop him from entering it and bothering me. The subtle floral scent of the master bathroom, which had been present from the first night, was completely absent in this room, making it feel cold and impersonal. It was beautifully decorated with hues of beige and gold. There was a king sized bed placed in the middle of the room, in front of a wall decorated with white bricks. The bedroom set was very rich and modern. Its canopy style was very unique too. There was a beige pampas grass placed in the corner beside a tufted chaise that Romelo sat in every time he entered the room, trying to muster conversation. Also, the seventy-five inch television was mounted on the wall, adorned with white LED lights, making the style appear retro.

As I continued to rummage through the bags, I finally settled on something. He had to have seen the size on my clothes when he knocked me out cold because everything read 2X and my bra and panties were the correct size too. Along with his maniac episodes, he was mindful, I guess. The pink Nike shirt and black Nike flare leggings are what I decided on before fishing through the Walmart bag for the hygiene products. The feminine wash and body wash was another attentive choice he must’ve noticed at my house somehow because it was the same one. TheMonistat Maintainpussy wash and Dove body wash are the only things I used to make sure I’m clean. Anything else wasn’t a necessity, but the bag was filled with Dr. Teals Epsom saltand bubble bath, exfoliating gloves, body scrub, deodorant, and Jergen’s body lotion.

That shower was everything I needed. I felt the water rain on my skin as the soap hydrated my body. My pussy was stank after going multiple days without washing it, and my ass smelled like roadkill. I was always on top of my hygiene, but I needed my ass beat for the way I neglected myself, smelling like a bum, so I know Romelo smelled it too when he entered the room. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I got dressed and treaded back into the bedroom. Creaking the door open, I saw Romelo, casually sitting on the chaise, scrolling through his phone, ignoring my presence.

“I was wondering when you were to wash that ass and pussy. You been sittin’ in here smelling like badussy for days. Pussy and ass too fuckin’ pretty to be smellin’ like somebody sprayed a can of ass on you,” he spoke.

“Fuck you,” I frowned, clutching the dirty clothes in my hands.

I’d be an idiot not to call this man fine as fuck. Romelo had the charm to win a married woman over. He was the type of fine you hated because a dash of cocky was sprinkled on him. He was one of the finest niggas in Memphis and didn’t need the flashy jewelry to make a bitch drop her panties. Romelo could be walking around with a wife beater on, a pair of gray joggers, and some Nike flip flops, and bitches would still flock to him. His aura was so magnetic and powerful, you’d think a spell was cast over you. Sitting in front of me, I felt like one of those girls when I wanted to hate him. The cream Dior shirt, light denim skinny jeans, and a pair of black Prada cloudbust sneakers. An iced out Cuban chain was around his neck. On his left wrist was an iced out Audemars Piguet watch, matching the diamonds in his chain. There were two Vancleef bracelets on his wrists as well.

This nigga looked like money but would flip the switch in a second. When he dressed up, he looked fine as fuck, making me feel bad for gawking over my cousin’s man. It was wrong on so many levels, but Romelo begged to differ. Stepping further into the room, I could smell the musky cologne permeating from his body with the scent of vanilla oud.

He grinned, showcasing a bottom VVS diamond grill, making me want to melt into the depths of him. “I understand the rudeness, but damn, Juicy, cut a nigga some slack. I ain’t did half of the shit I could’ve done to yo ass.”

I placed my hand on my wide hip. “And that’s supposed to mean something to me?”

Glancing up from his phone, he stood up and slid it into his back pocket. My eyes trailed his and watched him stagger towards me with that limped walk before he stopped in front of me and towered over my small frame. “It should. Learn how to count yo blessin’s one by fuckin’ one, starting with being in the presence of a real nigga, love. It could be so fucking simple. Stop making shit hard when it ain’t got to be.”

“Then let me go.” I stood on my tiptoes to say. My small frame still wasn’t close to his tall one.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?” I grilled him.

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