Finding Forever (7 page)

Yet telling the truth was the right thing to do. Whitney deserved nothing less. Koran looked down into her solemn sleeping face and grinned. Her beauty was irreplaceable. He could watch her sleep forever. She looked so at peace. The sheets rested comfortably, covering the lower half of her body leaving her top exposed. Just the sight of her perky brown breasts made his dick hard. Koran wanted nothing more than to suck each nipple until her back arched and she moaned his name. A smile suddenly appeared on her face, causing her dimples to shine like the sun. He wondered what she was dreaming about. He hoped it was of him.

Koran checked the clock. Twenty minutes had passed. He didn’t want to leave, but he had to go soon. Koran never broke a promise, especially not the ones he made to Malik. He’d never done it before and he wasn’t going to start now, despite his feelings for Whitney.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, ruffling her hair.

“Hi,” Whitney covered her mouth in case her breath stank.

“Yeah, you might wanna go and handle that,” he teased.

“For real?” Her eyes grew wide.

“Yeah, ’cause that smell is all bad.”

“Oh my god.” Whitney rushed to get up.

“I’m just fuckin’ wit you, ma.” Koran cracked up laughing.

“You get on my nerves.” She hit him in the chest.

“Nah, for real, I need to talk to you about something.”

“About what?” Whitney pulled the covers over her. “Is it something serious?”

“Yeah, but you gotta promise you won’t get mad.”

“If it’s something bad I am going to get mad, so let’s just not talk about it. I don’t wanna hear any bad news right now.”

“I understand that, but it’s important.”

“Baby, please,” Whitney cooed, stroking his cheek. “Let’s just enjoy each other’s company. We haven’t been like this in years. Why spoil it?”

Koran sat for a second and contemplated whether or not he should spill his guts and risk hurting his and Whitney’s relationship or keep quiet until the time was right. Koran decided that seeing Whitney smile was better than seeing her upset, so he kept his mouth shut.

“A’ight, shorty, but I did want to tell you this Saturday a bunch of us are going to Nectar. I would pick you up, but I got some things I need to handle, so invite one of your girls and I’ll meet you there.”

“You know I’ll be there.” Whitney rested her head on his shoulder and ran her fingers through the hair on his chest.

Koran had the sickest physique. His skin was the perfect shade of copper, which highlighted his carefully crafted pecks. Whitney traced his nipples with her fingertips and then made a trail down to the six-pack of muscles covering his abdomen. They were like small mountain peaks. Naughty fantasies of her tongue replacing her finger clouded her mind. Her mouth watered from the thought. Flashes from the night before caused bolts of fire to explode in the pit of her stomach.

Whitney missed his thrust, the way his hips wound in a circular motion. She ached for the way sweat beads dripped from him and onto her body like hot lava. She liked the bittersweet taste of his penis. Visions of it as it slid from between her breasts and into her mouth flashed before her eyes. It was time for round five. She hoped he was up for the fight ’cause Whitney still had a couple of rounds left in her.

“Baby,” she purred, straddling him.

“What?”

“You know what.” Whitney bit into her bottom lip as she took his dick in her hands.

“I gotta get up outta here.”

“I know, but just one more time.” She eased down and licked the tip.

“You don’t fight fair.” Koran closed his eyes.

“You’re right . . . I fight to win,” she replied before slipping his entire dick into her mouth.

Afternoon approached as Koran placed his key into the knob and turned. To his surprise Trina wasn’t in the kitchen or living room waiting on him. The coast was clear. Maybe for once he could spend some time with Malik without her being all up in his face. Koran made his way upstairs. The sound of the Disney Channel’s hit show, The Suite Life of Zach and Cody, blared from Malik’s room. He could hear him clack his toy men together as if they were at war. Opening Malik’s door, he peeked his head through.

Malik didn’t even notice him standing there. He was too busy pretending. Koran did everything in his power not to laugh. Malik looked a hot mess. He had on the smallest set of pajamas Koran had ever seen. The long sleeve button-up shirt with trains on it squeezed his plump belly tightly. Some of the buttons were missing and the ones that were still holding on were in the wrong holes. The pants were a whole other story. They were royal blue and made of thermal material, which meant they hugged his thighs and butt tightly. On top of that they were flooding, but Malik loved them. He was unwilling to let them go. They were his favorite pair.

“Why you not dressed?” Koran spoke after composing himself.

“Mama told me not to put on my clothes until you got here.” Malik stopped playing, not missing a beat. “Where you been?”

“You nosey, stay out my business.”

“Just tell me.”

“Out, why?”

“’Cause mama been lookin’ for you.”

“Where she at?”

“In the room.”

“Mama’s eyes were red again. I think she was up crying all night. Did ya’ll have another fight?”

“Nah.”

“Well, why was she crying?”

“I don’t know. She probably just got something in her eye. Now, did you eat?” Koran quickly changed the subject.

“Yeah, I got up and fixed me a bowl of cereal. What, you want some? ’Cause I can fix you a bowl. You know we got Golden Grahams downstairs.”

“I’m good, but thanks.”

“That’s what’s up? So what you get me?” Malik asked not taking his eyes off the television.

“You bold. How you figure I got you something?” Koran scrunched up his face.

“Why we always gotta go through this? Will you just give me my present?”

“Man, me and you gon’ box.” Koran opened the door wider so he could toss Malik a bag.

“I knew you got me something!”

“Yeah, I stopped by the game store.”

“Oooooh, you got me Dragon Ball Z and NBA Street! Thanks Koran!” Malik ran over and hugged him around the waist.

“You know I got you, but let me go holla at ya’ mama. Get dressed while we talkin’, a’ight?”

“Okay,” Malik responded, half-listening. He was already plugging in his GameCube.

Koran closed Malik’s door and made his way across the hall to what used to be his and Trina’s bedroom. Inhaling deeply, he turned the knob and entered. Koran’s old bedroom was outstandingly lavish. Trina had done her thing when she put everything together. The wall behind the king-sized bed was black and there were two black and white family photos exposed by recessed lighting above the headboard.

Koran loved his old bed. It wasn’t too soft or too hard. It was just right. A total of nine pillows adorned the ivory and white satin sheets, and matching nightstands and lamps stood on each side. A charcoal gray couch with an array of throw pillows sat in front of the bed and a wooden coffee table finished off the room.

Trina usually kept everything neat and clean, but today things were dramatically different. It looked as if a tornado had blown through. All the pillows were slit open, feathers covered the floor and the lamps were broken. Old photos of he and Trina were cut into a million pieces, the sheets were ripped and the mattress had been turned over. The clothes and shoes Koran still kept there had been thrown all over the place.

Rushing into the bathroom, he saw the words, Fuck You! Sincerely, Trina, written on the mirror in red lipstick. All of Koran’s male toiletries, including his Anthony Logistics shaving cream, lotion and shower gel had been squirted into the sink. Koran didn’t want to believe his eyes. The only thing still in one piece was Trina, who was fully dressed and sitting with her legs crossed on the couch. A freshly lit cigarette rested between her index and middle fingers as she exhaled smoke rings from her mouth.

Trina was determined to remind him that she was that bitch. If they were going to go heads up she was going to do it in style. Trina was the shit in a black and white rayon poncho, black camisole and black booty shorts. In her ears, she rocked her favorite pair of Chanel logo earrings and on her feet she sported a pair of black Giuseppe heels. Trina’s shoulder-length hair was flat ironed bone-straight with a part in the middle.

Homegirl didn’t know where to start first. A part of her wanted to be rational, but in a situation like the one she and Koran were in being rational wasn’t an option. She wanted to slap the shit out of him. She wanted to cuss and scream. She wanted to spit in his face. Trina could feel her nails scraping his skin. Yes, she’d fucked up, but that didn’t mean he was going to disrespect her and get away with it.

More then anything, Trina’s ego was bruised. She honestly didn’t think Koran had it in him to move on. He had her fucked up if he thought she was gonna let him go that easily. She’d been in the picture way too long for it to be over. And, no, Trina didn’t necessarily want Koran and Koran only. Frankly, she could do without him if she absolutely had to. What she couldn’t do without was the house, the money and the cars. She loved the street fame that came along with being his girl. There was no way in hell she was giving up the chinchilla furs and VVS stones.

“So this how we doing it now? You ignore my phone calls?” she questioned calmly, never taking her eyes off the television screen.

Placing his keys into his pocket, Koran shook his head. He was beside himself with rage. Koran didn’t know how much more he could take. Trina was pushing him closer and closer to his breaking point. With his head down low, he walked over to the couch and stood before her.

“Trina, what the fuck is yo’ problem?”

“Who is she? Just tell me her name.”

“I’m not tellin’ you shit.”

“Then why won’t you answer none of my calls?”

“I don’t have to answer your calls when you call me. What is it that you don’t understand? We not together no more and frankly I can’t keep on doing this shit wit you. This shit is tiring, man.”

Trina sat speechless. She felt empty inside. All the words she’d rehearsed overnight escaped her memory now that she and Koran were face-to-face. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing she said or did was gonna convince him that with her was where he needed to be. Trina wanted to scream so loudly the heavens could hear. The idea of being alone was too much for her to bear.

Koran had to see the tears filling the brim of her eyes. Didn’t he feel her pain and despair? How was she supposed to sleep at night when he wasn’t lying by her side? Every time the phone rang she prayed it was him. Koran was supposed to love her forever, so why wasn’t she good enough now?

“I ain’t tryin’ to hurt yo’ feelings or nothing, but I don’t love you no more.”

“Don’t tell me you love that bitch already? Please don’t.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“This is some bullshit! I fuck up once and now it’s over? What about all the shit you did to me? Yo’ ass ain’t perfect!”

“I never said I was! What I said is that I don’t want to be wit you!”

“You ain’t gotta be wit me! Fuck you! Don’t nobody need you!”

“You fuckin’ crazy.” Koran shook his head.

“Now I’m crazy ’cause you fuckin’ another bitch? Where you take her last night, Koran? Did ya’ll go eat?! Huh?! Where’d you take her? Was it Lucas Park Grille or Red?”

“Since you wanna be smart, it was The Drunken Fish.”

“Cheap but cute,” Trina scoffed, lighting up another cigarette. “I don’t even know why I’m trippin’. The bitch you fuckin’ probably ain’t nothing but a Reebok broad.”

“You right, Trina, just like you was when I met you.”

“Fuck you! ’Cause if you think you leavin’ me you got another think coming. ’Cause . . . I . . . ain’t . . . going . . .nowhere!”

“I don’t wanna be wit you no more! What the fuck about that can’t you understand? Stop seeing what you wanna see and get that shit through that big ass head of yours?”

“You think I care about you not wanting to be wit me? It ain’t about us, Koran! It’s about Malik! You know you the only daddy he knows! How you think that makes him feel, knowing me and you ain’t together no more?”

“I understand that.” Koran clapped his hands together. “But us arguing everyday like we do is not that deal! Half the time I don’t even like being around you.”

“So being wit me is that bad?”

“Trina, at first it was all good, but I ain’t there wit you no more. I’ve moved on.”

“So that’s it? It’s over? You don’t even wanna try no more?” Trina’s bottom lip quivered.