Page 64 of Deep Throat Diva

“Yeah, aiight. Don’t let me find out you out there on some ole other shit, yo.”

I suck my teeth. “Jasper, don’t start your shit.”

“Yeah, aiight. When you gonna be back?”

“Sunday,” I tell him as I’m texting Felecia with the flight info. I tell her to call all of my appointments I have booked for the next few days and offer them to reschedule for when I get back, or to see one of the other stylists—on the house, of course since it is last minute. Then I tell her to only pack an overnight bag. That we’ll shop when we get to L.A.

“And what time you gettin’ in?” I tell him we land at two in the afternoon. “I’ma be at the crib at three, waiting on you.”

“Nigga, you ain’t slick,” I say, laughing.

“Yo, what you mean?”

“Jasper, please. Why you gonna be at the house waiting on me on a Sunday?”

“’Cause I ain’t gonna see ya ass, that’s why.”

“Yeah, right,” I continue, still laughing. “The only reason you’re coming through is to make sure I don’t loan out any of this pussy while I’m gone.”

“Yeah, whatever, yo. You already know what it is.”

Yeah, I know what it is. It’s him being jealous. And not being able to keep tabs on me. Being in prison has really done a number on him. He’s so damn paranoid about everything. Still, I decide to stroke the green-eyed monster, soothe its raging spirit.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be extremely horny when I get back so having your hard dick in bed waiting for me will be exactly what I need. So make sure you take your vitamins, big boy, ’cause you’re gonna need all of your strength to feed this pussy, nigga.” Telling him this seems to relax him—for the moment, anyway.

He laughs. “Yeah, aiight.”

He tells me he’ll have to be back at the halfway house by nine, so we’ll only have a few hours to spend. Tells me to make sure I bring my ass straight home from the airport. It dawns on me that Jasper doesn’t have keys to the house, or the code to the alarm. I tell him the code and where the spare key’ll be. The minute I do, I want to kick myself. Something inside of me says giving him easy access to getting in and out of here may be a bit more than I’m ready for.

Girl, get over yourself. He’s going to be home soon so you might as well get used to the idea of him coming in and out of here. Besides, bitch, his name is on the deed, too.

I glance at the time, realizing I need to get off this phone so I can get showered, packed and to the airport. “Baby, I gotta hop in the shower. Call me later. Love you.”

“Yeah, aiight,” he says, sounding annoyed. “I gotta bounce, anyway. But know this, I’ma be home in a minute. And it’s gonna be a wrap.”

“Umm, what’s gonna be wrapped?”

“You hoppin’ on planes ’n shit whenever you feel like it.”

I laugh. “Whatever, Jasper. You like to hear yourself talk, baby.”

“Yeah, aiight. Laugh if you want. But when I start shuttin’ shit down, don’t say I didn’t warn ya ass. Go on and have ya little fun, baby. Daddy’s gonna be home in a minute.” Before I can open my mouth to say something slick, he disconnects. Of course I don’t put any energy into it since I’m pressed for time. I hop in the shower, throw a few items into my Louis carry-on, then take it downstairs and set it by the door. I go back upstairs, lotion my body up, then slip into a cute brown Emilio Pucci Jersey wrap dress. I walk into my shoe closet, pulling down boxes of designer shoes until I find the right pair to set off my outfit. I decide on a red pair of six-inch Gucci stilettos. I give myself the once-over in my full-length mirror, admiring myself. I put on a pair of brown Versace shades. Despite my swollen eye and the bruise on the side of my face, I’m still looking good. But—this time, am I scared? Hell, motherfucking yeah!

If that motherfucker was crazy enough to hide out in bushes for me, he’s crazy enough to come back. And next time, most likely try to kill me. So, hell fucking yeah, I’m scared—shitless!

Between you and me, I’m glad to be getting out of town for a few days. The change of scenery will do me some good. Hopefully, help me clear my head. The last time I was out to in LA was almost two years ago for a hair and fashion show. I smile at the idea of being out in Tinseltown to shop and chill for a bit. Oh, and look for a wedding dress.

Once I get to Newark Airport, I park in short-term parking, then hop the shuttle to Terminal A. I text Felecia to let her know where I am, and she texts back, telling me she just got dropped off and will meet me outside the door for Continental. We get our tickets, go through security, then make it to the gate and board without any problems.

“What did you tell Jasper when you told him you were going to LA?” she asks, snapping her seatbelt in.

“I told him we were going to look at wedding dresses. And we are.”

She looks at my bruised face. “Well, let’s hope your face is healed by the time we have to come back.”

“Well, if it’s not,” I say, cutting my eye at her, “you can come back without me. I’ll stay a few extra days.”

“And tell Jasper what?”

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