Wifey, Part 1 Read online

  I got the bartender’s attention, and I ordered a bottle of Nuvo, a bottle of coconut Ciroc, and a bottle of Hennessy Paradis.

  A young lady who had been sitting down at the bar got up, and Simone sat in her seat.

  The bottles arrived, and Simone poured the drinks for everybody. I drank the Hennessy, and they drank the Ciroc and the Nuvo.

  “Who you in here with?” Jasmine asked me.

  “BJ,” I replied.

  Jasmine gave a look of contemplation.

  “You know BJ, right? That’s my man.”

  “I don’t know him like that, but I know who he is.”

  I drank some of my drink, and then I sat my glass down on the bar. “What’s up with your boy?”

  “Shabazz?” Jasmine rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  “What’s up with that look?”

  Jasmine shook her head again but didn’t immediately reply.

  “I don’t really know. I can’t figure him out.” Jasmine then took some of the Nuvo and mixed it with the Hennessy and drank some. “We was up in Foxwoods last night, and we was gonna stay there for the weekend, but I had to bounce today. I couldn’t deal with his shit for the weekend. I just couldn’t take it.”

  I nodded my head and didn’t say anything in response to what she was saying about Shabazz.

  “I see you trying to get fucked up tonight,” I said directly into Jasmine’s ear. “You ain’t playing fair with that dress you got on either. You might catch a murder charge ’cause you killing ’em in here.”

  Jasmine blushed. She started to bounce her body to the music, staring at me with a flirtatious look as she danced. Her two girlfriends told her that they would be back in a few minutes and that they were going to check on some dude named Carlos.

  “So where you from, Jasmine?”

  “Southside, near a hundred and ninth and Guy R. Brewer.” She kept dancing with her drink in her hand, only now she was slightly backing her ass into me.

  “Oh, so you a Queens girl.” I drank some more liquor while Jasmine continued to dance.

  As she kept dancing, she turned and faced me. “I’m originally from Prospect Heights in Brooklyn, but we moved to Queens when I was around twelve.”

  I nodded my head to acknowledge what Jasmine was saying while I looked at my phone and saw a text from Mia, asking what time was I coming home. I hit her right back and told her that I wasn’t sure, and then I put my phone away.

  “What you doing when you leave here?” I asked Jasmine.

  Jasmine appeared surprised by my question and looked at me. “I really didn’t think that far ahead. I guess I’m going home, right?”

  I said into her ear, “Why don’t you come to my spot near the FDR Drive and chill with me?”

  “Come chill with you?” Jasmine turned around. “What, at your crib?” She stopped dancing.

  I nodded my head yes.

  “So Mia can stab my ass?” She then drank some more of her Nuvo.

  I didn’t respond to Jasmine’s comment. I just looked at her and waited for her to tell me what she was going to do.

  At that point Rick Ross’s hit song came on, and everyone in the club started to get amped. And so did Jasmine.

  “They playing all my shit tonight!” Jasmine then turned her ass back into me, and she grabbed my right hand and made me hold on to her stomach and waist while she danced.

  “We good,” I whispered into Jasmine’s ear, and then I kissed her on her neck as she kept grinding on me. The liquor had my head feeling nice, and all I was thinking about was taking her back to my spot and smashing that ass.

  Jasmine tilted her head back. “We good?”

  “We grown, right?”

  Jasmine nodded her head up and down, and then she turned and looked at me.

  I wasn’t playing games, and the straight look on my face said so.

  “I drove here, and if I leave, my girls ain’t gonna have a way to get back,” she explained to me.

  I nodded my head and then thought for a moment. Then I spoke into Jasmine’s ear because the music seemed like it had gotten louder.

  “It’s all good. I gotta drop BJ back in East New York. So after you drop your girls off, we can link up.”

  She nodded her head. “OK, take my number.”

  I put her number into my phone, and after we finished our drinks, we parted ways. I went to look for BJ, and Jasmine went to look for her home girls.

  It was a little past two thirty in the morning. In about two hours I was more than likely going to be fucking the shit out of Shabazz’s girl.

  CHAPTER 6

  Mia

  It was four in the morning. I was still up because I had gone to the John Legend concert with one of my girlfriends, and after dropping her off in the Bronx, I didn’t get back to my house in Long Island until two in the morning and I wasn’t that tired. I was lying in my bed and I had just turned off the TV when I heard my doorbell ringing, and I also heard knocking coming from the front door.

  The first thing I thought was, Nico had lost his key or something. I dismissed that because I knew he would have called me if that was the case, and I hadn’t heard from him since I’d sent him a text a few hours earlier.

  “Who is this at this time of night?” I said out loud to myself as I got out of the bed and threw on my short black silk robe.

  The banging got louder as I approached the door, making me a little bit nervous. I paused in my tracks, turned and ran back to my bedroom. I quickly switched on the closed-circuit television monitor, so I could see who was at the door. The motion light in front of my house had come on, but it was still too dark for me to clearly see who it was at the door. But I could definitely tell it was two guys.

  I grabbed my phone and immediately called Nico. I called him two times in a row, and it rang out to voice mail each time.

  “Answer your fucking phone!” I said in frustration as the knocks at the door got louder and louder.

  I called Nico back, and again his phone rang out to voice mail.

  Whoever it was at the front door, they were being very persistent, like they weren’t going to go away. I looked at the television screen again, and this time I was able to tell that the two guys were definitely Spanish guys.

  I tried calling Nico again, but I got no answer.

  At that point I was beyond nervous. I ran to the closet to look for the small .22 handgun Nico had bought for me. I was frantically rummaging through the closet because I forgot exactly where I’d stashed it. And while I was looking I heard a loud bang coming from downstairs, and then I heard talking and feet moving. My front door had just been kicked in. My heart was in my feet.

  I finally felt the steel from the gun. It wasn’t the .22 I was looking for—it was Nico’s chrome .45. With each heartbeat my heart felt like it was leaping out of my chest.

  “That muthafucka ain’t in here,” I heard one of the Spanish dudes say from downstairs. After he said that, it was like everything went silent for a moment, and the only thing that could be heard was the pounding of my pulse as I stood stiff, my body frozen against my bedroom closet door.

  I heard some movement on the first floor of the house and then I heard what sounded like feet coming up the stairs. The whole house was dark, except for the light coming from my bedroom. I wanted to turn it off, but I couldn’t take the chance because I didn’t know where the two intruders were.

  About a minute later, with my heart still pounding and my palms sweaty, I heard the floor squeak. Someone was near my bathroom, because the hardwood floors always squeaked when someone walked nearby. And right after I heard the floor squeak, my cell phone, which I had accidentally left on the shelf of my closet when I was looking for the gun, started to vibrate, scaring the shit out of me and causing me to fire the gun into t
he ceiling.

  My own gun blast startled me. And right after my gun went off, I heard two loud gunshots coming from the hallway. Instinctively, I ducked down and stayed crouched down and started to fire my gun in the direction of my hallway. I fired three shots. I was ready to piss on myself from fear. The next thing I know, water started coming from the sprinkler system and the burglar alarm started to sound nonstop.

  I didn’t know what was going, but I thanked God because the sound of the alarm spooked whoever it was in the house. I could hear them running down the steps as if they were making their way out.

  By this time the water from the sprinklers had stopped, but the alarm was still sounding. I grabbed my cell phone and realized I had missed a call from Nico and immediately called him right back.

  “Pick up the phone! Pick up the phone!” I said, but it rang out to voice mail.

  At that point I didn’t know what to do. My first instinct was to call the police, but at the same time I didn’t want them searching the house unless I had first checked with Nico.

  I looked at the closed-circuit monitor in the room and saw the two dudes exiting the house. I wanted to inspect my property, but I was too scared that someone was still in the house, or that the two dudes who had left would turn right around and come back inside.

  I decided to try Nico’s cell phone again, and finally he picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Oh my God, baby! Oh my God! Somebody just broke into the house! I was calling you!” I screamed hysterically into the phone, tears streaming down my face.

  “What? Did they touch you?”

  “No, I grabbed the gun and started shooting, and the alarm started ringing, and they ran off. Oh my God! Baby, just come home. I’m so scared. I wanna call the cops. I can’t take this.”

  “You still got the gun?”

  “Yes,” I replied, my body still trembling.

  “OK, lock yourself in the room. Don’t call the cops. I’m calling my peoples right now and have them come to the house. They’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m on my way to the crib too. I’m gonna hang up, but I’m gonna call you right back and I’ll stay on the phone with you until I get there.”

  “OK, hurry up, baby. I’m so scared right now.” I did as Nico had instructed me. I barricaded myself inside our bedroom.

  I turned off the lights and held on to the gun with both hands. And just as I turned off the lights, the alarm stopped ringing, and there was this deathly silence that filled our 6000-square foot home. I paced back and forth for a moment before tiptoeing to the window and looking out, hoping to see something, but all I saw was the pitch blackness of the night.

  As sad as the thought was, I knew Nico was probably with one of his side chicks at that very moment. I just prayed that, wherever he was and whoever he was with, he would leave and hurry up and get to me, so I could breathe again and feel safe.

  CHAPTER 7

  Jasmine

  After I left Nico, I went to the bathroom. All of that liquor I had been drinking was more than ready to come out. There was a small line to get into the bathroom, so while I waited, I sent Simone and Jada a text asking them where they were at because I was ready to bounce. I made sure not to tell them why I was ready to leave, because it was none of their business, and with them and their dysfunctional asses, they would have just been on some cock-blocking, hating shit anyway.

  Simone didn’t text me back, but Jada did, and she told me where they were at. Carlos reserved a table and some bottles for us not too far from the bar where we had bumped into Nico at. So I made my way over to Simone and Jada, and as soon as I arrived I knew Simone wasn’t going to be ready to leave.

  “Oh my fuckin’ God! Jada, please tell me she knows this dude from somewhere, or that’s her secret boo or something,” I said, referring to some dude that Simone was deep tongue-kissing on the dance floor.

  “I have no idea! You know your girl,” Jada replied.

  I shook my head in disgust and disbelief. “Go get her because we leaving right now. I can’t wait on her, fucking with these broke-ass niggas.”

  Jada walked over to Simone, but Simone was paying her no mind. After she stopped kissing the guy, she turned around and was backing her ass up into the dude. And while she was grinding on him, he hoisted a bottle of champagne into the air with his left hand. Although it was dark in the club, it looked to me like he had his right hand in Simone’s pants.

  “You believe this shit?” I said to myself. I looked at my phone to see what time it was.

  When I looked up, I saw Carlos approaching Simone. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it looked like he was barking on her. I figured she had probably been trying to make Carlos jealous. I walked closer to try and defuse any tension and to make sure that I personally told Simone that we had to leave.

  The guy that Simone was dancing with asked her, “You know this dude?”

  Before Simone could say anything, Carlos responded, “Money, niggas get murked for that shit!” Carlos took both of his hands and pushed the dude in the chest, sending him backward.

  “Oh my God!” Simone screamed. “Carlos, it’s not even that serious. We was just dancing!”

  After the dude got pushed, people knew that some drama was about to unfold. Two bouncers approached the scene and tried to see what was going on.

  I grabbed Simone and asked, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

  “Jasmine, not now! All right?”

  I didn’t even have a chance to respond because all I heard was screaming. I saw Carlos crashing to the floor. The dude Simone had been dancing with had cracked him over the head with a champagne bottle.

  At that point all hell broke loose. The bouncers knocked the dude to the ground and started stomping him out. Tables were getting turned over. People were running and screaming, and the bouncers were trying to get control. But they were actually making things worse because they took the melee as an excuse to just randomly knock dudes out.

  Jada grabbed me and Simone by the arm. “Come on! Let’s get the fuck outta here before they start shooting,” Jada screamed.

  “Nah, get the fuck off me! I can’t just leave Carlos like that!” Simone tried to fight her way back to where Carlos was, so she could help him.

  Jada wasn’t trying to hear that. “Simone, come on! We gonna get trampled up in here. Let’s go! Now!”

  Jada was strong as shit. She continued to pull on me and Simone, until finally Simone relented and decided to head for the exits. By that point it seemed as if the entire club had realized that a fight had broken out, and everything became an absolute zoo.

  Finally, me, Jada, and Simone found an emergency exit, and we made our way out of the club and to the parking lot. Though it was a little after three in the morning, all of 29th Street was swamped with people and swarming with police.

  “You know that was some real whorish, ghetto-ass project shit you just pulled up in there and almost got us killed, right?” I screamed at Simone.

  “Jasmine, just take me home. I don’t wanna hear your shit right now.”

  “Well, you gonna hear my shit. You up in the club kissing some nigga in the mouth that you just met? And had the nigga all up in your pussy on the dance floor! Why didn’t you just pull your pants down and let him fuck you right there?”

  “Jasmine, I said I don’t wanna hear your shit right now! Just take me the fuck home.”

  The parking attendant pulled the car to where we were standing, I paid him, and the three of us got in and pulled off, headed back toward Queens.

  I’ll be in Queens real soon. Give me like 45 minutes to drop them off and shoot back.

  That was a text I sent to Nico just to make sure he knew I wasn’t fronting. I didn’t want to tell him I had just left the club because I didn’t want to give him any reason whatsoever to change his mind
about us linking up.

  “Simone. Really?” Jada asked as she turned around in the front passenger seat and looked at Simone as we drove.

  “Jada, I’m telling you just like I told Jasmine. I don’t wanna hear this shit right now. Turn the fuck around, turn the volume up on the music, and leave me the fuck alone!”

  Jada shook her head and turned and faced forward. But she threw another dart at Simone. Under her breath, she said, “Probably don’t even know the nigga’s last name.”

  “Fuck you, Jada!” Simone yelled from the back seat and then lay down and stretched out across the entire backseat of my father’s Lexus, her eyes closed. She mumbled something else under her breath about a credit card, but she wasn’t making no sense, and I was paying her no mind. I just wanted to get both of them home and out of my car, so I could handle my business.

  Ten minutes later, Simone suddenly sat up and started talking about how she didn’t feel well and felt like shit.

  “Jasmine, pull over. I gotta throw up,” Simone shouted over the music.

  “Ahh shit! Hold it until we cross into Queens,” I said. We were crossing the 59th Street Bridge, and the car was moving at a good rate of speed, so there was no way for me to just pull over.

  “I can’t hold it. Just pull over and stop the car!”

  “Simone, where the fuck you want me to pull over to? Roll down the window and hang your head out and throw the fuck up!”

  “Just stop the car!”

  “Bitch, I can’t! But, I swear to God, if you throw up in my father’s car, I will whip your muthafuckin’ ass!”

  Two minutes later we were just about to cross into Queens and Simone started banging on the back of my chair and tapping on her window.

  “Roll the window down, Jasmine. I can’t wait no longer. I gotta throw up now, and this window won’t go down. Hurry up!”

  “Ahh shit! I don’t know these buttons like that. Try it now!” I yelled.

  The window still wouldn’t go down due to the child safety feature that was unknowingly on.