Page 74 of Breaking the Rules
He smirked. “I’m trying.”
“Now if only I can get Sincere to follow your lead. You should talk some sense into him.”
“I’m not foolin’ with that nigga when it comes to this shit. He ain’t ready. But when he is just know pigs and shit gon’ fly,” Noble spoke with laughter. “Take care of my girls.”
“We will. Bring us a win.”
“Ain’t nothing.”
With that, Noble was off to New City. This was the first time he’d felt anxious leaving them. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was because of Savanhi and the baby, or the sureness of everything, but nothing could ease it.
He waded in the dugout at the top of the third inning. They were down by one and he hadn’t gone up to bat yet. He wiggled slightly hummed songs to himself. There was nothing he coulddo to settle himself. To the crowd he looked confident as he prepared himself to bat.
“God, I do not know what this feeling is, or why. Just watch over my girls. Keep them safe. Please.”
After muttering that prayer, Noble moved through the game as if nothing were wrong. His system had calmed, and all was well until he reached his hotel room. Naked and in the middle of his bed – Mecole.
“You played a great game, baby,” she purred. “I’ve been waiting on you to get here all night.”
“How the fuck you get in here?” Noble gritted, stopping where he was. He’d dare not get any closer. Feelings he’d thought had gone away were back. Not of desire, love, or passion, but anger. He couldn’t let her get to him or let the ugly beast that Savanhi tamed come out to play.
“I missed you. I gave you weeks to calm down. To think this through. You called off our wedding.”
“You fucked my boy. Are you fucking slow?” he gritted. His brows were pinched together, his mouth was tight, and he was digging in his pocket for his phone.
“I told you it was a mistake. I told you I was sorry. You just up and leave me. Sell our house, put my stuff out, and ignore all of my calls? I thought you said you were going to love me forever?” Mecole stated.
Noble looked down at the incoming FaceTime call. Savanhi. “Fuck.”
“I need you to get the fuck out. Right now!” Knocking her out, as badly as the urge presented itself, wasn’t an option. That one action would cost him everything – he knew it. However, there was nothing he wanted to do more. That was dangerous.
“Is that her?” Mecole crawled over the bed. Surgically enhanced body moving to him like a demon coming out of the pits of hell. She leaped on his back, attempting to claw at hisphone. “The stripper bitch you left me for? Let me talk to her. We can compare notes.”
Noble fought and wiggled his body to get her off of him. His long arm was in the air, so she wouldn’t get his phone. He used the other to pry her off. “Get the fuck off me!”
“Answer the phone, Noble. So I can tell her how I fuck you eight ways to Sunday. She’s so stupid, she’ll believe me.” Mecole attempted to coil herself around him.
Noble, who was trying not to touch her and leave a mark, threw that notion out of the window. Covering Mecole’s face with his large hand, he shoved her back with just enough force for her to drop back on the bed. The call ended, and Remi called.
He answered out of breath and ripping through his suit for his things to flee. “Rem she good?”
Remi’s voice was shaking. “No. I’m in a closet with Areli. They just came through the back door.”
“Is that your little bitch?” Mecole asked, spread out across the bed, arms flailing over her head, legs spread open with a smirk on her face. She was on something, but that wasn’t Noble’s issue.
“Let me tell her we need to talk about you,” she continued to spew her nonsense like she knew something more than she was letting on. “I hope Brixx puts a fuckin’ bullet through her skull. Leavin’ me? ME! A businesswoman with a degree for a fucking hood rat ass stripper!”
That was the feeling he’d been battling ever since he left. Forget Mecole as a decoy, forget the next three games he had. Noble was out the door with nothing but his wallet and phone. Mecole could make sheet angels or whatever she was doing.
“Remi, call the police. Don’t leave that fuckin’ closet,” he directed, hitting the button to the elevator repeatedly. He glanced up at the illuminated numbers and cursed. “Fuck!”
Choosing the stairs, he ran down them, calling Carl.
“Ay yo, hell of a game,” Carl answered gleefully.
“My house,” Noble breathed. “Get to my house!”
He hung up, still speeding down the stairs. He hit Sincere’s number.
