Torn (38 page)

Something needed to change. He asked Sherry if she could be a little tidier. To Quan's surprise, she shot him the screw face and suggested that they get a maid.

"Get off my back, Quan. I'm sick, can't you see that?" she snapped, lying on the couch eating a handful of Saltines.

Fed up with the bullshit, Quan decided to make plans to get out of the country for a week or two. He needed to clear his mind. He needed some alone time to think. He wasn't supposed to miss Mo. He wasn't supposed to miss the smell of her skin. He wasn't supposed to compare Sherry to her. He was supposed to hate her, but he couldn't.

Sometimes Quan would tell himself that he'd overreacted when she put Lil' Quan outside, because he didn't ask her how she felt. He had only been concerned with his needs at the time. Then he'd remember all the fucked up things she'd said and done in the past year and had become angry all over again. Mo knew exactly what she was doing when she disregarded his son's safety and put him on the doorstep.

She knew what the consequences of her actions would be.

There was no way he could forgive her. But Quan couldn't escape his true feelings. At night when he lay next to Sherry, holding her in his arms, he would secretly wish that she was Mo.

One time during sex, he even slipped and called out her name. He missed slipping up into her warm honey pot in the middle of the night. He missed how she took care of him and looked out for his well-being. Sherry's main concern was which new played-out outfit she could buy with his money.

She loved the fact that he was hustler and went hard for his and encouraged it as much as she could.

Quan didn't know what to do. On one hand he had his freedom and was able to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it, but on the other hand was the undying love for Mo that held his heart in an iron clad fist and wouldn't let go. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Sherry would never measure up to Mo. Even if she wasn't pregnant and could do the entire house cleaning in the world, that wouldn't be enough. Sherry wasn't Mo, and no amount of catering to Quan's needs or sexual healing would change that. It was Saturday, the day of the carwash. Mo navigated her brand new silver Mercedes G55 swiftly down the city streets of Saint Louis bumping "
This is Why I'm Hot
." Her spirits were high in anticipation of seeing Boss. She hadn't seen him in a couple of days, so to spend some time with him would be a nice treat. Anxious like a child on Christmas, Mo turned into the carwash parking lot.

Dudes were everywhere. Only two other chicks were in sight. Music was playing and the scent of barbeque filled the air. Immediately, all eyes turned toward her truck. Everybody wanted to know who was pushing the G55 with beats banging.

Mo checked her makeup, which was flawless, and hopped out.

No one would know it but her stomach was doing flip-flops as she switched wickedly toward Boss' friends.

"Daaaamn! Who is that?" one of the guys asked, taken aback by Mo's perfectly shaped hips and toned thighs.

"You better chill out. That's all Boss right there," Grizz responded.

"Oh, straight. Shorty a dime, for real. You can't even deny that right there is the truth."

"Right." Grizz couldn't help but agree.

Mo was seriously doing damage in a cut off tank top, booty shorts and four inch red patent leather Gucci heels. Her hair was filled with huge Beyonce-like curls. The only jewelry she rocked was a pair of silver hoop earrings and silver bangle bracelets.

"Your name's Grizz, right?" she asked, unsure.

"Yeah."

"Hi, I don't if you remember me or not, but I'm Mo." She stuck out her hand for a handshake. "Is Boss around?"

"Yeah, he's in the back. Ay yo, Boss! You got a visitor!" Grizz yelled over his shoulder, then turned and admired Mo some more.

As if time had slowed, Boss came from around the building wearing nothing but a wifebeater, hooping shorts and Jordan 23s. A white cotton towel swung from his hand. Sweat beads visibly glistened from his silky butterscotch skin. Mo didn't even realize her mouth was hanging open. She was in absolute bliss. Boss' entire upper body was ripped with muscles and filled with tattoos. And the dick imprint from his shorts showed that he was working with a lethal dose of dyna-mite.

"Ma, what you got on?" he smiled, hugging her tight.

"What?" She hugged him, inhaling his scent. "You don't like my outfit?"

"Every nigga out here likes your outfit. I mean, you look cute and all, but you can't wash cars in those stilettos."

"Who said I was washing cars? I came to support."

"Yo' ole pretty ass. I shoulda known."

"I'm just playin'. I brought a pair of sneakers just in case."

"Go get 'em and hurry back. You're working with me."

"I bet I am," she smirked, switching back to her truck.

As soon as she turned around, every man's eyes on that lot focused in on her round, plump booty. Mo had an apple bottom for real. Niggas couldn't keep their eyes off of it. Boss hated all of the attention she was getting, but played it cool.

She wasn't his girl. He didn't have any claim on her. The fellas could stare all they wanted as long as none of them stepped to her.

"You really feelin' shorty, ain't you?" Grizz questioned Boss.

"Why you say that?"

"'Cause you got that goofy-ass look on your face when you like a chick."

"Fuck you, nigga. Yeah, shorty cool. If she play her cards right she could be wife."

"Oh word? That's what's up."

"Which car you wanna start on first?" Mo asked, ready to work.

"My man Navigator right here." Boss pointed.

"So what do I do?"

"You've never washed a car before, Mo?" he questioned, stunned.

"No. I was the only girl in my family. I always had one of my brothers to do it or my ex took care of it for me."

"You spoiled, man. We gon' have to change that."

"Yeah, whateva."

"Okay, well look, you see this sponge?" He held it up.

"Yeah."

"You dip this big yellow sponge ... into that white bucket

... with the soapy water." Boss spoke like she was retarded.

"Just give me the damn sponge." Mo snatched it away.

"Hey, I'm just tryin' to help you out."

"An-y-way." She started cleaning. "I know you ain't actin' funny."

"Where that come from? Why you say that?"

"'Cause, I haven't seen you in a couple of days."

"Oh, you mad?"

"Please ... ain't nobody trippin' off you."

"That's what ya mouth say," Boss replied, scrubbing the tires.

"Whateva, when does this end?"

"Around seven, why?"

"I was thinking maybe we could catch a movie or something. I mean that's if you're not busy."

"Nah, you good. That sounds cool."

"Bet, it's a date."

"Oh, so now we're dating?"

"If that's what you wanna call it, then yeah."

"You gon' quit tryin' to all act hard." Boss took the hose and sprayed Mo's back, wetting some of her hair.

"Boy! I just got my hair done!" she yelled, throwing her sponge at him, hitting him in the face.

"Oh, you must wanna fight." He then sprayed her shirt.

Mo's hardened nipples poked through her shirt in a matter of seconds. She was completely drenched.

"Ahh! I'm gon' kill you!" Mo grabbed her bucket and splashed Boss. A wide grin spread across her face as she watched his wifebeater and shorts cling to his body.

"Okay, I got you. You wanna play, huh?" Boss pulled his wifebeater off over his head revealing his smooth wheat-colored chest and rippled six pack. Mo's panties instantly became wet.
Please put your shirt back on
, she trembled, mesmerized.

"What you gettin' ready to do?" she asked, afraid.

"You'll see." He grabbed his bucket which was bigger than hers.

"Ah uh, Boss, you better not!"

"I better not what?" he laughed.

"Come on, please! Don't throw that on me! I promise I won't wet you no more!" Mo screeched, crouching over, hid-ing her face.

"You promise?"

"I promise! I promise!"

"A'ight mama, I won't wet you." He took her hand and raised her up.

"I'm not playin', Boss, for real," she pleaded.

"I said I wouldn't, didn't I?" He examined her face, holding her by the waist.

"Yeah."

"Look at you all wet and shit." He pushed back the pieces of hair that stuck to her face. "Tell me," he questioned inches away from her lips, "is your body the only thing wet?" Mo was so turned on, she was unable to speak. Instead of answering, she did the only thing she could think of to do at the time - kiss him. Rubbing the top of his head, she gently pecked his lips. Boss wanted more, so he parted her lips with his and did a sensual salsa dance with her tongue. Mo tasted so sweet.

Neither of them wanted the kiss to end. The only reason they stopped was to come up for air. After a minute, Boss pulled back, kissed her lips once more and then smacked her butt. Thoroughly pleased, Mo winked her eye at him and con- tinued working. She wasn't even ashamed of being so forward.

It was inevitable. They were going to kiss again eventually. Mo was tired of pretending anyway. She wanted to give it to Boss and she was pretty sure he wouldn't mind taking it, so why not act on their feelings? Before she knew it, half the day had gone by. Mo was amazed by how many people Boss knew.

Every other minute a new dude from off the street would stop by to say what's up. For him to be young, he had a lot of respect and clout. Even the older cats showed him love.

"What time does the show start?" he asked as they finished up another car.

"Umm, I don't know, let me check the time." Mo put down the hose to call the movie theater on her cell phone.

"Is it alright if I get changed at your house? I brought an extra pair of clothes with me."

"Sure, I don't care."

"Zaire!" a girl yelled, interrupting their conversation.

"What's up, boo?"

"You," Boss responded, happily approaching the girl with a hug.

You,
Mo thought, scrunching up her forehead.
And how in
the hell this bitch know his name and I don't?

"Sorry I'm late." She kissed his cheek.

"Late," Mo whispered underneath her breath.
Who the
fuck is this chick?

"No problem, let me introduce you to my friend." He brought the girl over to Mo.

Friend? After that kiss? Negro please,
Mo thought in her head.

"Neisha, this is Mo. Mo, this is Neisha."

"How you doing?" Neisha stuck out her hand for a handshake.

"Fine." Mo gave a dismissive wave instead.

"So what's up?" Boss continued talking.

"It could be a number of things if you want it to be."

"Is that right?" he chuckled.

"I mean, yeah, right now it's nothing, but later it could be a different story, if you play your cards right," she flirted.

"I hear you talkin', ma."

"You know it's all about you, boo."

"Damn, will y'all fuck already!" Mo shot, annoyed.

"Did Brianna and Toccara make it?" Neisha looked at Mo like she was crazy.

"They over there with Grizz and BK."

"I know you gon' walk me over there?" She rolled her neck with her hands on her hips.

"Ay, I'll be right back," Boss said, talking to Mo.

"Umm hmm," she replied, rolling her eyes. Boss pretended not to notice but he caught her reaction.

Mo continued to wash the car they were working on by herself until she noticed Boss hadn't came back. Fifteen minutes had passed by. Feeling totally played and disrespected, she pulled off her gloves and threw them on the ground.
This nigga got me all the way fucked up
. She sucked her teeth.

"You ain't done wit that car yet?" S. Dot walked up on Mo.

"Nah, I'm done for the day. Tell your friend I'm up." She walked away.

Inside her truck, Mo gave Boss one last look, shook her head and sped off. He didn't even notice that she was leaving.

If he thought she was going to stand there and wait on him to finish his conversation with some chicken head, he had another thing coming. Mo was done fighting for the attention of a man.
Been there, done that
, she thought, hopping on to the highway. She didn't have to. There wasn't a dude on earth that important. Even though she tried to feel indifferent about the situation, Mo couldn't help but feel slightly jealous.

She wanted to know if Neisha was his girl. Did he call her as much as he called Mo? Did he take her out? Did they laugh and talk into the wee hours of the morning? Did she make his blood pressure rise? Did she look forward to seeing his face as much as Mo did?