Thug Matrimony (7 page)

Angel jumped up and ran to the door. “Kaylin!” He looked back at her. “Bring your ass home tonight by eleven!” She slammed the door, then picked up the phone and called him. She wanted to make sure that he heard her instructions. He answered on the first ring, knowing that it was her.

“Kaylin, did you hear me? I said you bet—”

“I heard you, Red. Damn. And yo, what you did to our bedroom got you that. I’ma give you that. That was real fuckin’ brilliant.” He thought he hit the
END
button and tossed the cell over onto the passenger seat.

Angel started to scream on him, but when she heard the windshield wipers going she realized that he hadn’t turned the phone off.

Kaylin tapped on the door before stepping inside. Tasha was curled up in a chair next to Trae’s bed, watching television. She stared at Kaylin but didn’t open her mouth.

“I know, I know. I’m such an asshole. Go ahead. Say it.”

“You already did.” She was still looking him over. “You look like shit, Kaylin. I’ma ask you to get it together. This is so not like you.
Even though I’m hating you right now, you actually have me worried.”

“I promise you. I’ma get it together.”

“Good. Because I am too tired to curse your ass out. But I’ll eventually get with you. You got that coming.”

She watched him as he looked Trae over. “Damn,” he mumbled, eyes watering. There was a tube in his nose, his chest, and IVs in both arms. He didn’t like seeing him like this.

“Trae, talk some sense to your boy because he’s losing it. I’m going to get some fresh air. I’ll be back.”

Kaylin stood over Trae for a minute, then grabbed the chair that Tasha had been in and sat down. He bowed his head, while tapping the cell phone against his forehead.

“Trae, nigga, it’s me. It’s time to get your black ass up outta this hospital bed. I fucked up, yo. I fucked up big time and I’m falling deeper and deeper in the hole. My pride, man. My pride. You always told me that I had way too much and that it was gonna get me hemmed up one of these days. Well, my back is pinned against the wall.

“Aiight. I know, same ole impatient nigga. You want me to hurry and get to the point. Well, it’s Red. I’m scared that she wants that fake-ass pimp. She got my heart but I’m not sure what she’s gonna do with it. It’s fucked up. I’ve been wildin’ out. I’ve caused her to change to a whole ‘nother person. She’s a grimey bitch now! I’m serious, yo. I’m actually scared to go to sleep around her. She might kill me. I don’t know who this person is. She’s always talking all slick and shit and doin’ crazy shit. I went home to the crib before I got here and she cooked this big-ass dinner. But guess what? She only cooked for her. The other night I went to get some pussy and she fought me like I was on some rapist shit. Yeah, I was a little drunk and yeah, I hadn’t been staying at the house, but damn, I’ve been at Mommy’s trying to sort this shit out. But the pussy still belongs to me and I ain’t had none since the wedding day.

“I know I’ve been acting like a total ass, but that ain’t all. This
is the kicker! I goes upstairs in our bedroom and guess what she did? I don’t know what the fuck she did with our king-sized bed, but it was gone. She got separate his and hers beds in the fucking master bedroom! Got it set up like a hotel room and shit. When I saw that, I said, ‘I’ll be damned!’ Two full-sized beds. Now, you know I’ma tall nigga. How the fuck am I supposed to sleep in a full-sized bed?

“Nigga, I
know
I just didn’t see you crack a smile. Whose side are you on? Shit, man. I’m losing this battle. I fucked up. I know it. I don’t even know how to begin to fix it, yo. Like I told you the other day, she’s my life. She’s my soul mate. I need you to wake up to tell me what to do. Because, with this nigga back on the scene, I ain’t feelin’ the whole marriage thing. I’ma rock that nigga to sleep once and for all. You better believe that. This nigga is like a cancer or some shit that won’t go away.

“So … I’m just trying to figure out how to apologize to Red. I did her dirty. Real dirty. I need you, my nigga. And I know yo ass is too evil to die, so snap outta this bull-shit ass coma. This shit is for pussies. What? You doin’ this shit on purpose? Well, joke’s over, playboy. I gotta go, man,” he said, looking at his Rolex. “But I’ll be back. My wife said I have to be home by eleven. This time if I don’t do it, I really think she’s going to kill me. I told you she got me spooked, dawg. I can tell she is fed up with my ass.” He balled Trae’s fist up and gave him a pound. “I’m out.”

Angel hung up her phone, then picked it back up to call Tasha.

“Hello.”

“It’s me.” Angel’s voice cracked.

“I know your voice. Your man just left. He looks so bad I couldn’t even curse his ass out. I’m starting to feel a little sorry for the fool.” When she didn’t get a response from Angel she said, “Are you there?”

“I’m here. Why can’t he tell me that?” She wiped the tears off her cheeks.

“Tell you what?”

“He told Trae that he fucked up and don’t know how to make it right. He said he loves me and he’s been staying at Mama Santos’s.”

“You heard all this?”

“Yeah. The dummy didn’t turn off his phone.”

Tasha chuckled. “You gonna say sumthin?”

“Hell no!” Angel immediately snapped back into bitch mode. “I’m not done torturing his ass!”

Tasha laughed. “Who are you?”

“I’m Angel Santos, bitch!”

I
t was eight in the morning and Kaylin was seated on the couch waiting for Angel. They were on the way to her first prenatal visit.

“Red, c’mon. I fixed you sumthin to eat. Plus, we need to get going,” he yelled upstairs.

He was still a little ticked because of the his and hers beds in the master bedroom. Then on top of that she had the nerve to say that the beds weren’t comfortable and she ended up sleeping in the guest bedroom on the queen-sized bed for the last two nights.

She finally came strolling down the steps. When he looked her over his anger softened up … a lot.

She posed in front of him, to tease him and remind him of what he was missing, with one hand resting on her hip, looking like a runway model. She was clad in a chocolate-brown Yves Saint Laurent suit. The short-sleeve jacket was accented by a sleeveless, big-collar oxford blouse. The skirt halted right above her knees, showing off those bare, smooth legs and sculpted calves that Kaylin loved to squeeze and caress. His gaze traveled down to the chocolate-brown Christian Louboutin stilettos.

“Are you supposed to be wearing those shoes?” he snapped.

“Oh, please, Kaylin. I’m not even showing yet. Well, a little. But the only thing getting bigger is my ass.” She walked away from him, going into the kitchen.

She opened the refrigerator, grabbed a quart of orange juice, a banana nut muffin, and a pineapple yogurt. She placed everything in her lunch container and turned off the kitchen light. “Are you ready?”

“I fixed you breakfast,” Kaylin told her, not wanting to believe that she didn’t even acknowledge the gesture, let alone eat the meal he got up extra early to cook.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry yet. I grabbed sumthin to snack on.”

“Now, if I would have tried some shit like that, I’d be the dirtiest nigga in the world. Am I right?”

“Kaylin … never mind. Come here and let me fix your tie.” She decided against going toe-to-toe with him on that issue. Because he was right. Plus, she was excited about her first prenatal visit. She had set her purse and the lunch container down on top of the coffee table and was adjusting his tie. “You look nice.” This was the closest she had been to him since the night he was drunk and tried to take the pussy.

Her being so close up on him, where he could feel her and smell her, made him want to grab her, hug her, and kiss her. “What? You trying to choke a nigga?”

“No, not at this moment. Actually, you look too good to choke.” The two days he spent chilling around the house did him good. On top of that he was wearing one of several Brioni suits. It was deep chocolate like her suit, white shirt, diamond cuff links, and matching tailor-made ostrich-skin shoes. “But we will stop at your barber’s after my doctor’s appointment. You need a shapeup. Now.” She stood back and admired her handiwork. “We are ready to go.”

Kaylin was seated in a chair in the corner as he intently watched Dr. Shelly T. McCombs give his wife her first prenatal exam. Angel’s suit was draped across one of his thighs. He was telling himself that Angel was smart for getting a female obstetrician, because he wouldn’t allow an old white man, or an old black man for that matter, digging all in his wife’s coochie as he sat there and watched like a punk.

“Oh my,” Dr. McCombs said as she probed around inside Angel. “According to the day that you said you were impregnated you are eight weeks. Everything feels fine in here.” She pulled her fingers out, snatched off the rubber gloves, and trashed them. “You can rest your legs but remain lying down. I’ll do the ultrasound so that Daddy over there can listen to the baby’s heartbeat.” She went over to the sink, washed her hands, and put on another pair of gloves.

Kaylin draped Angel’s suit across the chair and came over to Angel. He grabbed her hand and caressed it as Dr. McCombs squeezed the cool gel on her stomach.

“Oh!” Angel giggled.

“Sorry about that. Forgot to warn you that it was going to be a little cool.”

“A little?” Angel teased. “That was ice!”

“It was not!” Dr. McCombs reached over and turned on the machine. “Now let’s find this little bugger. Plus, we’ll find out exactly how far along you are.”

Angel was still as Kaylin looked on. Faintly above the swooshing sounds they heard the heartbeat.

“Baby! Can you hear it?” Angel squealed.

“I hear my baby.” He kissed her hand.

“Sounds good and strong. What do the proud parents want it to be?”

They both said, “Girl.”

“I see. A good choice, and we’ll be able to find out in a couple of months. Or would you guys rather wait?” Dr. McCombs teased.
“We want to know,” Kaylin told her as Angel grinned, still tickled about hearing the baby’s heartbeat.

Dr. McCombs dried off Angel’s stomach and told her to get dressed. She and Kaylin then watched a ten-minute video on prenatal care and participated in a fifteen-minute counseling session. They walked out of the doctor’s office hand in hand.

As Kaylin sat in the barber’s chair, Angel was on the phone. She was able to set up a one-thirty luncheon with two Reggaeton artists, Papi Chulo and Suavecito Rico, along with their manager. The manager was trying to sign them up as a package deal, for whatever reason, and Angel needed to find out why.

Kaylin, as well as every other nigga, watched and drooled while she paced back and forth on those stilettos and wheeled and dealed.

As soon as she closed up her cell, a young kid walked over to her. Kaylin watched him through the mirror.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Can you please listen to my demo? I swear to you, it’s fire!”

Angel glanced over at Kaylin, who nodded at her. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Sixteen! You look younger than that. Are you sure you’re sixteen?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Angel smiled at his mannerisms. “What’s your name?”

“Lupe Black.”

“Lupe Black,” Angel repeated.

Lupe Black whipped out a business card attached to his demo and handed it to her. “Hit me up anytime, ma’am.”

“How did you know to give me your demo?”

“I heard you choppin’ it up on the business tip and then I recognized Big Kay over there and put two and two together. I figured
that you was Miss Kay and I always travel with my demo, so boom. I got at you. Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome.”

He walked over to Kaylin and held out his fist to give Kaylin a pound. “The streets are feeling you, Big Money.”

“Oh yeah?” Kaylin was surprised at this young cat and liked his style.

“Word.”

“You still in school, shorty?”

“Yeah and no,” he stated as he backed out of the barbershop and was gone.

Game Over Records was located on the tenth floor inside the new Time Warner Building on Columbus Circle. Kaylin was anxious for it to start paying for itself. Kaylin and Angel stepped onto the elevator looking and feeling like a million dollars. Hearing the baby’s heartbeat was an adrenaline rush for both of them. Angel glanced at Kaylin behind her and noticed that crooked tie again.

“Hold this.” She shoved her purse and now-empty lunch container into his hands and began adjusting his tie.

“You know I love you, right?” His comment, of course, caught her off guard. She brushed a few hairs off his ears and took her bag and the lunch container from him. He pressed up against her, his lips to her ear, and repeated, “You know I love you, right? I love you more than anything.”

“Whatever, nigga. Don’t even front. Ain’t shit changed. Same shit, different day,” she mumbled as she tried to lean away from him but couldn’t.

He lightly kissed her ear, her cheek, and had moved down to her neck when the elevator opened. Kaylin wouldn’t let her go, so they walked slowly off the elevator as if they were glued together.
With each step Angel could feel his dick pressing up against her ass.

“Okay, you can let me go now,” Angel told him as they entered the office of Game Over.

“Whatever, nigga,” he mocked her.

“Oh, you got jokes now?”

“Whatever, nigga.”

Everyone was trying not to look, but were looking at the couple who didn’t get married last weekend. No one really knew what to expect … definitely, no one was expecting them to come into the office all hugged up like this.
All
bets were lost.

Still entangled, they stopped in front of Bobbi, who ran the receptionist desk and ran it well. Bobbi was Puerto Rican and black like Kaylin. She was about five seven, with carmel complexion and jet-black curly hair that was always cut short. Her eye shadow and lipstick always matched her blouse. Her small beady eyes smiled up at the couple.

“Hi, Bobbi,” Angel said, taking the stack of messages she was handing to her.

“Hi, Miss Angel. Mr. Santos.”