Page 6 of Mafia Kings & Wedding Rings
Brows gathering in a firm frown, I looked him up and down and walked around him so I could move the hell on. I was not about to be responsible for whupping somebody else’s child’s ass, but I would if he tried me. His little ass was still standing there in shock like he couldn’t believe I had the audacity to take them back and talk shit. Rounding the corner to the next aisle, I was nearly run over by a cart squeaking and filled with every damn snack on the planet. I was hoping there were some fruits, veggies, and protein underneath the sea of Little Debbie, Cap’N Crunch, and Doritos. My eyes naturally drifted up to the tall, very forceful presence in front of me steering the junk mobile.
His somber eyes found mine, leaving me breathless and wondering what burden he carried. The way he canvassed my face was intense, like he was carving it in his memory. His chestnut-brown orbs appraised the rest of my frame before fixating on my face again. Broad shoulders and muscular arms stood out in the white tee as he gripped the handlebar and pressed his weight against it. The ripple in that flex accented the tattoos on his arms and hands. I could tell he worked out, and it intrigued me. Behind him, two more kids argued, and a third girl sailed up to the side of the cart.
“My bad, mama.”Shit!
I wasn’t prepared for the deep rumble of his voice to activate my lady parts.
“Daddy! This lady stole my cookies, and she called me Buckwheat!” The little shit head from the aisle rushed up beside me and hovered nearby at the foot of the cart.
Glaring down at him with my mouth wide open, I found his adorable ass nose scrunched up while he craned his neck to look up at me. Then he had the nerve to stick his tongue out! Part of me had to fight the laugh that wanted to come because he was bad as fuck, but he was also adorable as hell!
“Oh, so you bold and a little liar,” I quipped, shaking my head. “You know good and well I grabbed them first and you snatched them from me! I did call you that though, but you called me fat!”
“Rogue, is that true?” That deep, commanding ass voice rattled me again.
“Rogue? Oh, you got the right name,” I muttered, being all dramatic while rearing my neck and looking him over.
“But it’s the last one!” Rogue pouted. “And I didn’t call you fat, I just said you didn’t need no more cookies ’cause ya booty big.”
“Apologize.” His father’s voice was stern and steady.
“But—” Rogue objected.
His father gave him one hard glare and nothing else.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, lowering his head.
When I looked up, the young boy with locs, who appeared to be about thirteen, and the older girl dropped their items into the basket. It was all a bunch of sugar and preservative-filled bullshit. Just looking at it all gave me a slight stomachache. I was a physical therapist and big on eating clean. I had my cheat days and was considered less than petite with my size sixteen frame, but I considered myself healthy and in shape. These cookies tonight were my comfort food from the shitty ass month I’d been having.
The practice I worked with closed since the physician was retiring, which meant I was currently out of a job. My bills on top of the medical bills I had to keep up with for my father were also piling up. To add to my burdens, the unemployment office shorted me on my first check. I’d saved for a rainy day, but with my father’s medical bills increasing, things were getting tight. I didn’t want to have to depend on my roommate to cover me this month, but I knew that Plum didn’t have a problem with it since she was also my best friend. Not being independent and taking care of myself the way I was used to was throwing me off my game. I wasn’t sure how I was going to bounce back.
“I guess I accept.” Batting my eyes, I turned away from him with my nose in the air, pretending to be extra prissy.
“You guess? Yo, you just gon’ diss me like that when I man up?” Rogue challenged, tugging on my hoodie.
“Next time, man up before you mess up,” I warned, whipping my head back in his direction and scrutinizing him with a squint.
“Ooh, she told you, Rogue. I warned you about that mouth,” the cute little brown-skinned girl with some worn-out box braids teased.
Beside her, the young man paused with his hands in his pockets and his locs hanging past his shoulders with the same intense, piercing eyes as his father. This man was clearly that because there was a sprinkle of him in all their faces. The little girl with the messy puff rested her hand on the cart. She looked to be about eight or nine. Peeping his hands, I noticed there was no wedding ring, but that didn’t mean he was single. Just seemed like it was them against the world when I looked at them for some reason. Rogue lifted his little finger and flipped her off before grabbing a box of Velveeta shells and cheese and tossing it at her.
“Rogue, do that shit again and I'll bend that finger back so far you won’t be flipping nobody off, you hear me?” Mr. Handsome threatened.
Little man pouted and tucked both arms across his chest.
“You got your hands full.” I started to walk away, but Rogue’s voice stopped me.
“So you really just gon’ take the cookies?”
“Life isn’t fair, little man, trust me. It looks like you got more options than me anyway. Try to find the lesson in this L you taking.” I nodded to the cart, ran my fingers through his wild hair, and took one last glimpse of his fine ass daddy.
He was already watching me with a hint of a simper teasing the corners of his mouth, somehow amused by the situation. There was no way he was about to baby mama me. Clearly the nigga could reproduce, and my mind was nowhere near that. I pivoted around them in search of the shortest checkout line but ended up at self-checkout, paying for my things. Once outside, I inhaled the fresh air and slipped into my ’23 Chevy Impala parked in the lot. Letting go of a low chuckle, I couldn’t help but shake my head thinking about Rogue and his handsome father. I’d worked with a lot of kids over the years, but something about his little personality let me know I’d never forget him.
Instead of heading straight home, I thought I would pop up on my man, Sayer, at his spot. Plum was probably sleeping, and I needed to vent to someone. Sayer lived about twenty minutes from the grocery store too, so it was closer. While in traffic I called him, but he didn’t answer. I had a key to his place, so I wasn’t worried if he was there or not. I’d wait for him and just chill until he arrived. I had clothes and other supplies over there as needed, so it wasn’t a problem for me.
Pulling in front of his three-bedroom, two-story stone house, I parked on the curb and noticed that his car was in the driveway. He could have easily been riding around with one of his boys. It was only five p.m., so there was also the off chance that he was taking a nap. I’d been working and getting as many hours as I could the last couple of months, knowing that the clinic was closing. Which meant we hadn’t seen a lot of each other. Usually, this was the time he got moving in the streets.
After putting my car in park behind his, I grabbed my bags from the store along with my crossbody Chanel bag and got out. Sayer lived in the burbs, but he was as hood as hood could be. Being a medium-level coke distributor, he got money and kept a low profile. I admired the hustle in him, that was for sure, and he had no problem paying for anything I asked for. I just couldn’t be one of those women who was always looking to be taken care of.
