Page 20 of In Too Deep


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My iPhone pinged with the text.

Keisha: Don’t worry about coming in. There’s been a last minute change in the schedules. Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.

My thumb darted across the keyboard as I pondered something slick to say back. Keisha was an asshole of a manager without even knowing it. She copied and pasted the same message without a valid reason other than her not liking me. I exited out of the text message and prepared to toss my phone across my bed, but another text came through, making my phone chime again. The contact read RJ, making my heart skip a beat before anticipating what the text cited.

RJ: You still plan on feedin’ me today, Juicy?

Biting on the corners of my mouth, I pondered my response. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about him since the day he dropped me off. I was already going against the grain by texting my cousin’s boyfriend. It sort of felt awkward because he’d text me so casually throughout the day to check on me. I’d kept the conversations short because I didn’t want him to think anything else outside of the ordinary. Part of me wanted to cancel dinner and ditch him, but I’d already taken a hefty amount of money from him, so in a sense, I became indebted. With my southern hospitality and good intentions, if I made a promise, I was sure to keep it.

Me: Of course, dinner should be ready by six thirty.

RJ: Is food the only thing on the menu?

I couldn’t help but blush at his text. He was always at random flirting with me, making it become something habitual. Ordinary girls would become gullible to his fandom and buckle, but guys like Rome came a dime a dozen. It’s very common for people to flirt with you and not mean anything by it. So it’d be easy to fall victim to their trap and get caught up, thinking it was genuine, but you have to weed out the good ones from the bad ones.

There was a point I couldn’t stand the sight of him; most of that deep rooted anger stemmed from Trecee’s sudden change in behavior after dealing with him, always acting like she was too good for the roots she grew from. I never lashed that anger towards him, but I kept my distance. I never had a problem with him personally, but his influence somehow transformed mycousin into an arrogant and disdainful person. The change in her was the only effect I ever saw from him.

Instead of responding to his cheesy lines, I shut the message thread, fired up Spotify, and let my favorite power ballads fill the kitchen as I cooked, the powerful notes lifting my spirits. Cooking to music is the best type of therapy, even if it’s an old school playlist. I’d choose 80s R&B music over the blurred rap that people listen to now, any day.

I’ve always loved to cook. Though my mama died when I was really young, I remember cooking with her all the time. With it just being the two of us, she never made big meals, only enough for us to eat. She’d cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was always well fed and in the kitchen with her, sneaking bites of food and singing along to the music she’d play in the kitchen. I’d pay just about anything to bring her back. She was my idol, my doll, my queen, and a prime example of the woman whom I aspired to be. Those who said she was a whore, I never saw that side of her—she didn’t bring that lifestyle home, so if anyone mentioned it to me, without me knowing, I’d try to prove them to be a liar.

As I sauntered around the kitchen, singing old school ballads, I seasoned the food, cooking with so much love, just like she taught me. My time spent in the kitchen had to be minimal because I couldn’t afford the food to cook. Anything other than cold cuts, bread, and ramen noodles, I couldn’t afford much else. I had to penny pinch off the scraps that I had and make something work. It’s been a while since my refrigerator was stocked like this, and I had something other than the aroma of Glade air freshener filling my home. Rome is one lucky ass nigga to have me slaving in the kitchen like this, but I look forward to seeing him rave about my good cooking.

Is food the only thing on the menu?

I didn’t tripwhen Synthia didn’t text me back. Had she replied, she would’ve started some shit. I couldn’t see her being into me like that, opting for me to be the bad guy. When the only thing I really wanted to do was get in her good graces and prove her wrong. It felt like I was on the opposing team, going out of my way, plotting against her, but could you blame me? That’s like asking a nigga who was his childhood crush and expect him not to say anybody other than Halle Berry, Nia Long, or Beyoncé. Synthia had everything I needed in a woman, and my biggest regret is not choosing her first when I settled for Trecee. I wasn’t being greedy, but Trecee wasn’t my first pick; she was just the first piece of pussy out of the duo jump ship. Regardlessof anything else, niggas drool over a woman like Synthia, and I knew what that was like.

After chopping it up with Javon, I scheduled a 911 call with my plug so we could nip this shit in the bud. The last thing I needed to be doing was beefing with my connect. As hard as I worked to get him and as much money as I filled his pockets with, he’d remained loyal up until this very moment. If it was shit beyond his control, that was different, but he was the first on the list that I needed to hash this shit out with.

I thought about stopping by the house to freshen up and change, but running into Trecee would aggravate my mood further than it already was. Crazy how I’m beefing with my bitch over some shit she knew better about. That’s how I know it’s time to cut her ass off, and Synthia gave me that boost to go ahead and do it, but I had to play my cards right to get what I wanted. That’s if she wanted me back. Plus, Trecee couldn’t be in the shadows. As headstrong as Synthia is off GP, she probably wouldn’t fuck me because I’ve had ties with her cousin, and I can’t say that I blame her for that.

Speaking of the fucking devil, my phone vibrated in my pocket with a text from Trecee’s annoying ass.

Trecee: Am I still in the dog house?

It hadn’t been a day yet since I put her on punishment. I waited for her to get the point. So she wouldn’t lack responsibility, I put her car in her name and gave her access to the account to make sure she was keeping up with the monthly payments. She owned one major credit card as far as I knew, and anything else she was morally responsible for. Like I said, her being in the dog house meant me cutting her off in more ways than one.

Me: Is the sky blue? Is the grass green? Go outside and tell me just to make sure.

I responded as I pulled up to Synthia’s place and parked on the sidewalk. The grass to her front yard was still high as hell, so I could only imagine what the back yard looked like. I made a note to come by and cut it for her. Due to a busy ass schedule, I’d have to put a dent in it so I could make time for her.

Before exiting out of my car, I pulled my sun visor down to make sure I looked good. The stress behind my eyes was see through as hell because of this cell phone shit, but I’d make the best of it and not let it piss me off further than I already was. Undoing one of the buttons on my burgundy Telo Wireless pop style shirt, I smoothed the collar, reached inside my glove compartment, grabbed my gun, and tucked it behind my waist.

Me: I’m outside.

My Yeezys crunched on the hot concrete as I sent a text and unevenly made my way up the long driveway. Standing on the opposite side of the door, I placed my hand on the rusty railing. My face scrunched up in confusion, hearing her unlatch the door one too many times before it creaked at the sound of her opening it. Synthia stood before me, but for a millisecond the storm door kept me from hugging and copping a feel of her soft ass body, until I stepped back so she could open it.

“Oh my god,” she grinned, showcasing a mouth full of pretty ass teeth and a dimple dented in her left cheek. “I’m sorry, when you texted me, I was setting the table.”

“Aw it’s all good. I’m not in a rush.”

Dipping my head, I stepped inside her humble abode and scooped her up for a hug, my hand touching the arch in her back. Her small titties smashing into my stomach got my dickhard, and the fact that she was wearing leggings that exposed her jiggly ass didn’t help it grow soft.

“You keeping yourself in or somebody out?” I joked with her about the many locks on the inside of her door.

“Oh,” she giggled. “A few months ago, somebody broke into my house while I was sleep, so this eases my paranoia,” she explained and walked away.

“Damn, I forgot you told me that shit,” I spoke sincerely as I looked around her place. It looked better on the inside than it did on the outside. Not that her spot was raggedy, but it was obvious she took care of her things and didn’t let her surroundings place her in a box to live like shit. Lil’ baby’s place was nice as fuck, and if she was balling on a budget, she’s making this shit work.