Married to the Game (5 page)

Authors: Chunichi

BOOK: Married to the Game

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I was interested to see what he was packing, so I didn't stop him. In fact, I encouraged him. “If it's pleasing, I'll drop my towel and show you what a big girl looks like.”

Without hesitation, Duke unzipped his pants, pulled down his boxers and pulled out his penis. I had lost the bet. His johnson was the size of a full-grown man, and it wasn't even hard yet. He knew I was pleased.

“Drop the towel,” he demanded as he tugged on the fold just above my breast.

I smiled, un-tucked the towel, and let it drop to the floor.

“Damn, girl,” he said as he licked his lips and massaged his penis.

I watched it grow with every stroke. I knew I had to end the session before something terrible happened.

“Okay, Little Soldier, you win. Get dressed. I got business to take care of. I'm in a hurry,” I said as I threw my clothes on and headed to the door.

He followed behind me, disappointed that I left him hangingâliterally.

CHAPTER 7

STILL TAILING THEM

UNKNOWN MAN

“Got 'em!” I said to myself as I watched Snake leave his favorite spot on the oceanfront: the Crown Grand Suites.

I knew it wouldn't be long before he gave in. Although a nigga tried to prepare for the worst, shit still hit hard. The thought of him fucking C has fucked my head up! I had a mind to do some real grimy shit and show them a part of me neither one of them would like to see. My wicked thoughts were distracted as Ceazia came into view.

I watched Ceazia from the crack of her hotel room curtain. Her naked body was still perfect as she walked in the bathroom for a shower. Just the sight of her sexy frame took me back to the many nights we spent in five-star hotels. Our last trip was to Las Vegas, when I watched as she strutted across the hotel floor, modeling her brand new La Perla lingerie. She was like a kid on Christmas that day. We'd hit every designer store Las Vegas had to offer.

Fifteen minutes later, my daydream was over and I focused my attention back on Ceazia's hotel room. She was rushing out of the bathroom draped only in a towel as she headed toward the door. I wondered who could be there as I waited for her to walk back in view.

“Duke? What the hell is he doing there?” I said aloud.

Through the curtain I could see C's freak ass throwing Duke the seduction game. I watched as she teased and taunted him. I could only wonder how long Duke would play along before making a move. Quicker than I'd expected, Duke responded to Ceazia's little game. I couldn't believe my eyes as Duke pulled down his pants and in a single motion, pulled his dick out.

What the fuck! I know she's changed and is playing the survival game, but I never thought this bitch would go this far. She fucking li'l boys and shit now?

My stomach turned as I imagined the unthinkable, Ceazia and Duke fucking. There was no way I could let that shit go down. I jumped out of the car with gun in hand and headed toward the hotel room. I released the safety and cocked the gun back as I positioned myself close to the window for a better aim.

This is it! I thought as I took one final glance into the window. I continued to watch as Duke pulled off Ceazia's towel. I couldn't bear to watch this shit any longer. Sweat began to bead up on my forehead and the pace of my breathing sped up. I swallowed then exhaled as I prepared to put this shit to an end. With gun in hand and fire in my eyes, I looked back at the room one last time before pulling the trigger.

“Whew! That's what's up!” I said to myself as Duke and C exited the hotel room.

I smiled, relieved that they didn't engage in sex. I'd hate to have to knock that li'l nigga off. Although nothing happened this time, I knew it was not over. Knowing my li'l man, fucking C was a personal goal of his, and he wasn't going to stop there. He may not have gotten her this time, but I was sure he was making her an objective. I just hoped C didn't do anything to cause harm to herself or anyone else sooner than expected.

Once I saw Duke and Ceazia pull off, I returned to my car, turned up Jay Z's “99 Problems,” and drove off, content.

CHAPTER 8

BEAUTY SHOP GOSSIP

DANIELLE

It was another damn morning that Snake didn't bring his ass home. Once again, his excuse was “I had to do an all-nighter.” Today, I wasn't even worried about it. I was doing for Danielle. I had a full day of beautifying. To start the day off, I was going to get my hair done. Normally, I would do my own hair, but I'd been hearing a lot about this young lady in Norfolk by the name of DeeDee. I heard she did all the hottest styles from cornrows to colors to cuts. She did big heads, bald heads, knotty heads, chicken headsâit didn't matter; DeeDee's touch was like magic. Everyone came out of her shop with a nice 'do.

I pulled up to Creative Styles located in the heart of Park Place at 9:00
A.M.
sharp. I circled the block twice to be sure I got a parking spot as close to the shop as possible. I needed to be able to look out the window periodically to keep a constant check on my car. After parking, I grabbed my purse tightly, and pressed the lock button on my keychain and repeated to assure a definite lock. Then I quickly maneuvered my way through begging bums, playing kids, and dangerous drug dealers to get to the doors of the shop.

“Hello, I have a nine o'clock appointment with DeeDee,” I told the receptionist as I walked in.

Although the location and outer appearance of the shop was terrible, I was relieved to see the inside was really nice. I must say I was impressed. I took a seat close to the window and took turns watching television and my car, until it was my turn. I wasn't there ten full minutes before Snake started calling my phone. I sent him directly to voice mail. I had no words for his ass. I had no plans on speaking to him the entire day.

Maybe he'll spend more time at home if I give him a taste of his own medicine, I thought as I constantly pressed the end button on my Baby Phat Nextel phone.

As I waited, I listened to all the different stories the young ladies told. The stylist assistant was a slim girl with huge breasts. She was quite comical as she commented on every statement the young ladies would make. Every so often she would stop in the middle of her conversation, yell out numbers to everyone sitting in the waiting area, and direct them to their proper location by addressing them by their number.

“Girl in the white, you're number one. Beside herâtwo. Down the rowâthree, four, five, and six. Now, who all need relaxers ... color ... cuts? Okay, number one, sit in my chair and let me base you. Twoâto the bowl. Threeâbe on standby,” she yelled then returned to her previous conversation.

By the looks of things, she was running this shop like an assembly line. One slip-up and you were off the line. In the short time I was there, the assistant had already skipped over two clients. One was out taking a smoke break when her number was called, and the other was eating. The shop was packed, and I certainly didn't plan on spending my entire day there. So to prevent that, I turned my attention away from the TV and toward the stylist stations.

I listened alertly as the women talked about different men, baby momma drama, and other types of gossip. I was sure Snake's name would come up, since this area was his stomping ground. Five minutes didn't even pass before I heard it.

“What you getting today?” DeeDee asked the poorly dressed woman that her assistant referred to as number one.

“The works, gurl. Perm, trim, and sew-in,” she responded with her ghetto accent.

“Umph. You must have hit the jackpot last night,” DeeDee suggested.

“Or turned some tricks,” her assistant added underneath her breath.

“No, I did not. My money-maka came in da club last night and broke me off or whateva,” the hoochie bragged.

“And what stunts did you have to pull this timeâMoet bottle up ya ass?” another one of the girls asked.

“Nah, gurl. I got me a new nigga this week. I told y'all I been plotting, but y'all won't trying to hear a bitch.”

Then that's when I heard the ultimate. “I got dat nigga Snake on my team!” the bitch bragged while rolling her giraffe neck.

“Snake be breaking you off like that?” DeeDee asked in disbelief.

The entire shop was in doubt. Everybody in there, including myself, had become silent with puzzled looks on our faces. And out of everybody in the shop with their faces balled up, this hoochie only noticed my facial expression.

“Is there a reason yo' face all balled up? Cuz won't nobody talking to yo' ass,” she yelled instantly.

Normally I wouldn't respond, but I was boiling at the fact my man was spending large sums of money on that tramp. I stood up, grabbed my things, and headed toward the door, but before leaving I made one statement.

“If you must know why I had such an expression on my face, it's because Snake is my man, and I can't believe he would spend our money on a tramp like you.” I darted out the door as fast as I could and headed for my car.

“Thank God I parked close,” I said softly as I pressed the keychain to unlock the door.

Pop!

A striking pain flowed through my head. Unfortunately, I didn't get to the car fast enough. That hussy had hit me in the head with her hooker heels.

“You talkin' all that shit, bitch. Now back dat shit up!” she yelled while pulling me by my hair. I turned around slowly as I struggled to gain my balance and focus.

“Get the fuck off me, you beast!” I yelled as I struggled to free myself from the grips of the monster.

It was like a circus around me. People were circled around us, screaming and yelling, “Fight! Fight! Beat her ass! Ooohhh! She knock the shit outta her!”

I looked around quickly for an escape. Toward the shop, all I could see were women watching from the salon window. To my right was a female spectator with hanging tracks, and even a girl with a head full of relaxer. Out of all these people, I had not one person as a savior, so as a final strand of hope for survival, I opened the Mace on my keychain and emptied the can in her face. I could feel her grip on my hair loosen immediately. Once I realized I was free, I used that as an opportunity to talk shit and possibly redeem myself.

“Take that, bitch. That will teach your ass to stay away from my man!”

As the stripper ran for cover, I jumped in my car and drove off. I noticed my hair was wet and sticking to my neck. I found that odd because I don't usually sweat. When I reached back to lift my hair off my neck, my hand was covered in blood. I rushed to the nearest hospital in a panic. When I got out of the car, there was blood all over the headrest. My head began to feel light as I walked in the emergency room.

Two hours and three stitches later, I was all patched up and headed home. To my surprise, Snake was there when I arrived. He sat on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table in a wife-beater, jeans, and Tims, talking on his cell with one hand and massaging his penis with the other. He didn't even notice my presence as he chatted away.

“You better stop talking like that, girl, before I come over there and do something to you.”

I walked right up behind him without saying a word and smacked the taste out his mouth. As a reaction, he reached for his gun and jumped up, ready to fire.

“Oh, you're gonna shoot me now, Snake?” My eyes filled with tears. I knew he wasn't going to shoot me, but all the events of the day had taken a toll, and I couldn't take it any longer.

“What the fuck you smack me for, Danielle?” he asked as he placed his gun on the table and walked toward me.

I began to yell and punch him continuously across his chest. “I hate you, Snake. I hate you. Look at me. This is all because you can't keep your ass out of the damn strip club.”

Snake's eyes filled with anger as he examined my head. “What the fuck happened, Danielle? Who did this shit?”

“One of your stripper bitches.”

“Who? What's her name? What she look like? Where did you see her?” He ran off question after question. Unfortunately, I didn't have many answers.

“Look, I don't know the bitch's name. I ran into her at Creative Styles this morning. She's brown skin, about five-five, small waist, big ass, and long blonde weave. You should know. Evidently you gave her a pretty good amount of money last night. How did you do that, Snake? You were in two places at once? I thought you were pulling an allÂ¬nighter!” I replied angrily.

I walked up the stairs to take a shower and wash my hair. I left him standing in the living room, yelling alone. I knew Snake was spending time at the strip club. Hell, I even followed him a couple of times, but I had no idea it was this serious. I tried to convince myself that it didn't matter as long as he came home to me. Now I saw it did matter, and I was going to have to put my foot down.

As the days passed, Snake continued his regular routine, so again I decided to follow him. He made a few stops in Park Place then headed to the strip club, just as I figured. I prepared myself for a two-hour wait as he entered the club. This time I decided to stay until he left and see if he went home or elsewhere. Not even two minutes passed when Snake came back out. Following him was a nice-looking female with a nice body. She wore designer labels from head to toe. I knew Snake was responsible for her appearance. Hell, it was almost identical to mine!

They got in his truck and pulled out of the parking lot. I was careful not to follow them too closely as they crept down the interstate. Snake headed toward the oceanfront. I knew there could only be one destinationâCrown Grand Suites. That was Snake's spot for every occasion. I didn't even bother to follow any farther. If they were headed to the hotel, there was only one thing they could be doing. Besides, if I did catch him, what would I do or say? And I definitely wasn't risking getting my ass whipped again.

I got off the exit and returned home. I decided to call Snake on the way. “What's up, baby girl?” he said as though he wasn't even with a female. I wanted to cuss him out and tell him how much I hated him for cheating, but instead I played along.

“Nothing, baby. Where are you?” I asked.

“It's not past my curfew yet, is it?” he said, laughing.

I was not amused at all.

“Whatever, Snake. Imagine thatâyou with a curfew. Can you answer my question, please?”

He was intentionally stalling.

“I think you already know,” he responded, still avoiding the question.

“Snake! Where are you?” I said very firmly.

“I'm on my way to this bachelor party. I had to pick up the stripper for my man. I'll be at the oceanfront. You know my spot,” he said calmly.

I had overreacted. I was glad I did turn around instead of making a scene.