Page 49 of Still Forever
“Nothing,” I said. I’m married as fuck. And even if I wasn’t, I ain’t interested. KD knew that Santos kept his team naked, and she never tried to stop me from coming. That’s one of the things I loved about her. She trusted that I would never take it there. Because I wouldn’t.
“Don’t make me call Kennedy,” Nigga threatened, making me laugh. It was a threat, too. If KD found out this girl just offered us some pussy, she’d come beat my ass and hers.
“You trying to fuck? Cause that’s what she just said,” I shot back.
His eyes widened.
“I’m reckless, but I ain’t that reckless. All the bitches here do cocaine,” He gritted.
Santos came downstairs with a smile. His movements had slowed down since the last time we visited. It finally looked like his age was catching up to him.
He went over to Judah first and gave him a box of cigars. Nigga loved us like family, and it was crazy because Trouble and Judah could barely communicate with him outside of a couple of things they had picked up.
“The weather is bad, we need to keep going,” I said to Santos in Spanish.
He looked out his glass door and agreed, but told me that he needed Judah to look at one of his security cameras first. We went outside and took a pretty long walk to the back of his estate. He pointed at one of the cameras, saying that he noticed it right before we arrived. The wind outside was blowing hard, and before Judah could answer, one of the branches of the trees hit him hard, knocking him to the ground.
“Demanda, demanda!”(Lawsuit, lawsuit)Judah said from the ground before he got up, causing us both to cry with laughter.
“You good, man?” I asked as I struggled against the wind to help him to his feet. He nodded.
Before we could take another step, the rain started pouring. Heavy and cold. Our focus turned from Judah to helping Santos get into the house and out of the rain. It was a long walk back to the side entrance of his home, and by the time we got back inside, we were all soaked.
“Don’t trust the land of Bolivia,” Santos warned in Spanish, once we had closed the door. The skies had opened with a vengeance, and the rain that fell was something I had never seen before.
“We need to go,” I stood in place. Like being still would make the water pouring from me any less.
“You can’t, it’s a flash flood.” He said, making me let out a frustrated breath. We had been here for the last two weeks. And the house we had purchased to stay in when we visited was over an hour away, not to mention that I was ready to get home to my wife and children.
I told Judah what Santos had said about the flooding.
“I’m just trying to shake back from being high and knocked out,” He leaned against the door.
Santos disappeared into the back of the house, and then his girls came back out with towels, rags, and a change of clothing. Saying that Santos told us to change so we could stay warm. I went back over to the door. The way the rain was pouring let me know that this wouldn’t be something that blew over quickly.
Me: It’s a flash flood in Bolivia, we’re stuck, at least for right now.
Wife: OMG! You guys be safe. I love you.
I took the clothes and followed one of the women to the bathroom, and Judah did the same. I showered faster than ever, throwing on the new t-shirt, boxers, socks, and pajama pants that he had given us just to get into some dry clothes.
Me and Judah met back in the kitchen. Santos stayed upstairs for a while before he reappeared.
“The roads and airports have been closed due to the weather. You will have no choice but to remain here, in my home.” He informed me as he got on the phone.
I was frustrated; I wasn’t trying to hear that shit as I went back over to the window. The rain was already inches above the ground. Pooling against the door.
“Fuck!” I said. Tapping the glass.
The hours rolled on, and I held out hope that the weather would improve, but the rain just kept falling. It was dinner time, and the women had made their way downstairs to cook for us.
The lights kept flickering on and off, but Santos kept assuring us that he wouldn’t lose power.
When they were done cooking, I was hesitant to eat. But at this point, a nigga didn’t have a choice. It smelled good, and we had been here over eight hours, eating fruit and banana chips.
Judah had fallen asleep twice. I don’t know what kind of weed that nigga got from the Bolivians at the coca farm, but he was floating. I had been texting KD around the clock and keeping her updated about how it looked. And she was keeping me updated on the news. I tapped Judah’s shoulder and woke him up when they called us over to the table.
I shook my head as I took a seat. I had never planned to be in Bolivia at the table with Santos surrounded by Judah and six naked women. He didn’t even let these muhfuckas put on clothes to eat.
