No Home Training (3 page)

The cloudy skies brought about more tears and frustration. It was mid-evening and London still hadn't heard from her sister. Not that she really expected her to call after the crucial bombshell she dropped the night before but she still held out hope. O.T. had stumbled in just a few hours earlier giving her an update on the Chocolate Bunny saga as well as informing her on the details of Paris. London, even though she hated his woman, was still shocked. When he said that he was gonna be staying in the adjoining room she wanted to tell him, hell naw! But since he paid for the suite, she really didn't have a choice. Plus at this point, she truly had no overwhelming desire to be alone.

In between the nasty, obnoxious sounds of him grunting and passing gas in his sleep and his loud vibrating cell phone, which was constantly going off, London couldn't think nor go back to sleep. Unpacking her suitcase, she made herself temporarily at home. Following a long, hot soul-pleasing shower, she wrapped up in the thick hotel robe and ordered room service for the second time that day. Staring at the phone that sat on the nightstand, she picked up the receiver and got an outside line. Slowly dialing the number, London rubbed her stomach waiting three long rings before the only friend she seemed to have left in the world answered.

“Hello.”

“Hey! I need to come home,” London cried.

“I wish that stupid idiot we running around here calling boss would just wise the fuck up.” As the clouds darkened and the rain showers poured, Marco drove his green low-key van through a huge puddle of water that was starting to form. “That ho of his probably in Vegas soaking up the sunshine.”

“Yeah, you right.” His boy smoked a blunt and reclined his seat even farther as the long hours dwindled. “And he got us out here in a damn thunderstorm pounding the pavement. Twenty minutes more of this dumb shit and you can drop me by the crib!”

It was 6:45 in the evening and Royce had still yet to hear from Chocolate Bunny. He had every one of his crew on the hunt, checking afterhours spots, riding through the parks and staking out the mall and hair salons. Royce knew his woman was no angel, but she had a good heart with every intention of changing for the better. This baby Nicole was carrying was gonna be a fresh start for her and him. She'd finally have someone in her life who loved her unconditionally, never mind the kid was a forever meal ticket; and Royce, who was pushing into his late sixties, could prove to the younger cats who surrounded him that he was still very much vital and true to the game.

Having a young girl swinging from his arm, even if she was a slut, and possessing a direct line to Javier, one helluva of a strong drug connect, made him feel strong and infallible. Yet and still, not knowing anyone in Chocolate Bunny's immediate or distant family to contact he'd no choice but to sit idle and wait for her to call him. With the clock ticking and still no word, he called O.T. giving him the third degree for the fifth time.

“Yeah! Speak on it!” O.T. moaned.

“Hey, man, it's me.”

“And?”

“Have you heard anything yet?”

“Damn, I done told ya the last time ya called and the time before that I ain't talk to her! I don't patrol the next nigga's pussy! Ya feel me!”

“This don't make no kind of sense.” Royce waited for O.T. to feed off into his conversation. “Nicole wouldn't just not call. Not now anyway! It don't make sense!”

“I'm 'sleep,” was all that O.T. muttered in response.

“Well have you at least talked to ya sister-in-law?”

“Naw, dogg! And I done told ya I'm 'sleep. Is you hard of hearing? Now if you wanna call Kenya then that's on you. But for now I'm out! Peace!”

Before Royce could even get a chance to say one more word, ask one more question, he heard the line go dead. Bad as he wanted to take O.T.'s advice and ask Kenya himself, he couldn't swallow his pride. She still despised him since their fight having him permanently blackballed from Alley Cats. Even though he made money and was a major player around those parts, the club was still technically as well as legally her turf. And just as Royce's old luck would have it, ever since Storm's complicated return from the island, Royce had no direct number for him.

I can't believe I banged London.
Storm laid on the couch wiping the sleep out his left eye.
That explains those flashes of that shit in the kitchen.
Moving to the right eye, then stretching out his arms, he strangely started reliving the incident London was now calling rape. As the reoccurring memory of her foreign body squirming around to meet his every full-force thrust and of course getting tangled up in the fact of realizing he'd gotten some new pussy, Storm's dick stood at full attention and hard as a rock. He was in deep shit with Kenya for having sex with London, even though it was unintentionally, but that didn't stop him from being a man.
Damn, not only did I fuck sisters, I fucked a set of twins!
He glanced over at the staircase momentarily before slipping his hand down in his waistband gripping his manhood. As his fingers tightened and his stroke speed increased, caught up with busting a nut, he shamelessly imagined both twins sucking his dick.
Damn, y'all. Damn. Don't stop. Don't stop. Make daddy cum.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, he knew he was wrong as two left feet and being a dog, but shit, the fantasy he'd concocted was all in the pursuit of him getting that early morning hit. Bingo! It was done!

With no regrets heading upstairs, Storm stuck his head inside their room where he saw Kenya's silhouette sprawled out in the bed. While she was sleeping peaceful, bright glimpses of lightning blinked through the curtains and the heavy rain knocked against the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony. He knew she had a long night and was worn out so he tried to respect that. With no intentions to wake her, Storm quietly walked passed on his way to jump in the shower.
Damn, she looked good.

Not being able to help himself, he paused once again getting another hard on. The thin beige silk sheet that was once on Kenya's entire body had fallen to one side of the mattress showing him a clear view of her perfect ass, which had his named tattooed in blood red ink on her left cheek. He knew once again he was wrong, but as much as he fought the feeling he couldn't help himself. Dropping his boxers to the carpet the shirtless Storm climbed in bed with his woman.

Wrapping his muscular arms around her, he slid his dick in between the crack of her ass. Kenya was still fast asleep, but out of habit subconsciously poked out her booty to meet his every movement. Storm took that as an open invitation, flipping her over, sticking just the head of his dick inside of her wetness. Caught in her dreams and still exhausted from the night before, Kenya unknowingly moaned slightly as her body relaxed excepting all of Storm, who pushed harder. Panting and grunting in her ear he started fucking like there was no tomorrow in sight.

Yeah, London, give it to me!
Storm's mind freakishly focused on Kenya's twin sister.
I know you want this dick, so open up!
He couldn't understand why that shit was making his thang so hard, but at that point he didn't care.
I'm about to cum! I'm about to cum!

“Storm!” Kenya woke up coming to her senses realizing that shit she was feeling was not a dream. “What in the hell do you think you doing?”

“Hold on, baby!” He tried to keep his pace up humping. “Don't move.”

“Nigga, please!” Kenya in a rage pushed him off her covering herself with the sheet. “Are you crazy or what?”

“Damn, babe, I was almost there. Lie back down and stop tripping for one more minute.”

“That's nice for you, motherfucker, but it ain't that damn easy. Did you forget you had sex, naw, I mean raped my sister?”

“Naw, I ain't forget about that shit.” Storm still had a hard dick, secretly knowing that was all he could think about this morning.

“Well.” Kenya pulled the sheet off the bed draping herself with it as she stood up going to the other side of the room. “Now what?”

“Babe, let me take a shower, then we can figure all this bullshit out. I promise.”

“Okay,” Kenya agreed ready to put stuff in its proper perspective.

Five long, difficult, grueling hours of back-and-forth discussions, arguments, and disagreements, breakups, makeups, and finally some sort of a solution, the couple was ready to face London to hear her take on what truly happened. Calling his brother's cell phone to get the room number he and London were staying at, Storm waited for an answer.

“What the fuck is it now?” O.T. bellowed believing Royce hadn't got the message.

“Slow ya roll, boy! What's that all about?”

“Oh dang, my mistake, bro.” O.T. looked at his watch. “I thought you was that fool buster Royce. He keep calling stressing me about that missing bitch of his.”

“Well, he straight wasting his time worrying about her. She ghost now!”

“I feel ya, but that junk was foul.” O.T. tugged on his morning heavy dick. “Chocolate Bunny had some good head on her!”

“Well, now she ain't got no head at all!” Storm being sarcastic looked over at Kenya and smiled. “Dig, dude, I know it was fucked up, but I ain't about to let my girl do no time. No matter what!”

“Ya right.” O.T. got out the bed to take a piss. “And I know Paris's dumb-ass would've gone bonkers if she had to do one day behind bars. She already nutty as five fruitcakes!”

“Well, dawg, let me get to the point. Where's London?”

“I think ya baby momma is in the other room on the phone.”

“Cut it out!” Storm fell back on the couch. “This mess is crazy.”

“You telling me! She been around here throwing up all night and half the morning.”

“Damn!” Storm hated the chaos he'd created.

“Damn is right. What you gonna do?”

“Well first off, me and Kenya is gonna come over there to chop it up. What room y'all in?”

“Man, I gotta make a few runs, but don't come up to my room with that loud arguing and bullshit you and ya girl is famous for.” O.T. laughed. “Trying to perform illegal abortions and shit!”

“Fuck you, nigga!” Storm laughed back at his brother's twisted sense of humor. “You's a fool!”

After finding out the number, Storm and Kenya started getting dressed. An hour and a half later, they were out the door.

London ran her fingers through her damp hair as she lay back on the bed in distress. “I can't take it here any longer!” she whined. “I've made such a mess of things.”

“What happened?” Fatima asked her best friend.

“First of all, I want you to swear that you won't judge me.”

“Come on now, London. You know we're better than that.”

“I know, but what I'm about to tell you is gonna sound crazy.”

“Just tell me,” Fatima insisted sounding concerned.

“Okay, here goes.” London exhaled. “A few months back, Kenya's man was drunk and came down to the kitchen where I was at.”

“Okay, then what?”

London, feeling humiliation, continued. “He must've thought I was Kenya, because he grabbed me and threw me down on the floor.”

“Oh, hell naw!” Fatima yelled. “You lying!”

“Nope, it's true. Then he raped me.”

“What! What! What! Oh, no!”

“Yeah, Fatima,” London sadly confessed. “And that's not the worst part of the story.”

“How can it get any worse?”

“I'm pregnant.”

“By Kenya's fiancé?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God! What did she say?” Fatima quizzed not believing what she'd just heard. “Is he in jail?”

“No, he's not in jail. Matter of fact, he's denying the whole incident even took place.”

“London, that is so messed up! I see why you want to come home.”

“Yeah, I know it is.”

“But wait, you still didn't tell me what your sister said. I know she pissed at his ass!”

“She's so busy being in love she can't see or think straight. She said I'm making the whole thing up because I'm jealous.”

“Wow.”

“Last night I told her the truth about what happened and she kicked me out her house.”

“And where is he at?” Fatima was pissed.

“He's still there with her.”

As London and Fatima talked, making arrangements for her to fly back to Detroit, O.T. came out the other bedroom fully dressed with a smirk on his face. He took his keys off the dresser then rudely interrupted, not even bothering to say excuse me.

“Hey, girl!” O.T. spoke in a hurry. “Your sister and your baby daddy about to come over later to talk or kick ya ass.” He couldn't resist clowning her. “But any way it go, I gotta shoot a move but I should be back before they get here so I can referee or at least get Kenya off of you.”

“Shut up and get out!” London tried covering the phone's receiver so Fatima wouldn't see how badly she was getting disrespected until he finally left.

The intense pouring rain didn't stop O.T. from driving into a carwash and using the sprayer to rinse the terrible stench from inside of his trunk. After putting the guns in a safe place and throwing all the stuff he'd pissed on out in a dumpster, he didn't get time to at least squirt some disinfectant before Kenya had called him about Paris. By the time he'd left the hospital and dropped Kenya off at the condo, he was done, wanting to do nothing more than sleep.

Purchasing a good damn near twenty wild cherry tree air fresheners out the machine, O.T. tossed them all in his trunk then sped off toward Royce's main re-up house. After him bugging the shit out of him all day about the last time he actually saw or talked to Chocolate Bunny, he knew it was about time he saw him face-to-face to play the shit off. It would look way beyond suspicious if he didn't at least say something to the worried man.

O.T. listened to the radio as he plotted what he'd say. He had to make it somewhat good, but by all means believable. And thanks to Chocolate Bunny and her jaded past, she made it easy and convenient. If all went as planned, he was gonna lead Royce to believe that all along his woman was cheating on him, seeing some rich white dude from Cali she'd met at Alley Cats. And since Royce and most of his crew were banned from there, he wouldn't be able to dispute whether it was true. Besides everyone knew Royce was so caught up, so blinded, and so far gone behind Chocolate Bunny's pussy even if the lie was a 100 percent authentic none of his fake loyal soldiers would risk their jobs or position to be the bearer of bad news.

As he slowly bent the corner and pulled up two houses down parking under a huge tree, he looked in his rearview mirror seeing Marco, Royce's right hand henchman, standing on the porch smoking a cigarette. The loud, cracking sounds of thunder filled the air as O.T. put his game face on. Yeah, this was it. Not giving a fuck about getting his wheat-colored Tims wet and stained in the heavy downpour he got out the car and sprinted, heading up the walkway. “Hey, guy.” O.T. nodded his head. “The old man inside?”

“Naw, dude. You just missed him.” Marco blew the smoke from his cigarette out. “He just bounced.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Marco kept it short.

“Damn, as much as he was blowing up a nigga's phone I thought he would've been here posted.” O.T. studied Marco's expression to see if he could peep out what Royce's mind set was.

“Please don't tell me dude was on you too about that slut.”

O.T. now had the answer he was looking for. Royce was panicked and his team was loose lipped. He took that as his opportunity to plant the seed and lay the groundwork. “Yeah, the old man say he can't find her.”

“Just between me and you, O.T., that tramp somewhere on the beach sipping on some big, fruity drink with a stupid umbrella in that motherfucker!”

“Yeah, man, I feel you.” O.T.'s plan was working itself out. “We both know Chocolate Bunny be doing her thang!”

“Dude, I'm telling you, I don't know what's wrong with Royce's mind. Maybe he got Alzheimer's or something.” Marco thumped his still lit Newport into the wet bushes as his dreads hung over his face. “One day he on top of his shit then that dirty ho come around and he jumps all off his square.”

O.T. stared out into the rain as he let the young cat get all his frustrations and complaints about Royce out in the open.
Damn, he's bugging and straight dry snitchin' on Royce!

“Yeah, man. That guy so gone over that female you ain't never gonna guess where he on his way to now as we speak!” Marco, who normally never liked O.T. and the power he possessed on a day-to-day basis, to be able to speak to Royce however he wanted to without consequences, now seemed to act as if they were best friends since kindergarten.

“Where is that?” O.T. stayed brief with his responses.

“That old bitch nigga done broke the number one rule to this here game we playing!” Marco pulled a blunt out his pocket and blazed it up. “He straight pussy whipped!”

“Naw? Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah! He went to the damn punk-ass police for help!” He deeply inhaled then choked as he chopped it up with O.T. “He down there right now probably crying like a baby making a missing persons report on a slut who don't even wanna be found!”

This shit is about to get real twisted now that fool done went to the cops,
O.T. thought as he listened to Marco get angrier and more disloyal to Royce as the showers increased, the storm intensified, and the clouds darkened. “Where you get them trees from?” He prolonged the spontaneous little pow-wow to see what other information would slip out. “They smell righteous. I need to cop some of that.”

“Well yo, gimme ya number and I'll hit ya the next time the Mexican dude falls through. His ounces be tight!”

“All right, that's a bet.” O.T. gave Marco his cell phone digits to lock in then decided to leave before he seemed to nosey. “Well, dude, I gotta be out. Tell Royce I came through whenever he gets back from his little adventure.”

“Bet, not a problem. And yeah, until Chocolate Bunny shows back up you can just holler at me for the package.” Marco was really feeling himself. “I'll be holding for now on out!”

“I'm good on all that, li'l man, just tell your boss I fell through.” O.T. cut their conversation in the bud.

A now furious Marco, with burning blood in his eyes, watched O.T. run off the porch in the heavy downpour, jump in his ride, and skirt off.
Who the fuck he think he is to be ordering me around like I work for him?
He let the purple fill his lungs as he got higher and more delusional.
Shit, if things go as planned, in a few weeks, I'm gonna be the damn boss! Shit, maybe his boss!

Feeling lost with nowhere else to turn, Royce, this time of his own free will, walked through the doors of the police station. Wearing a green and yellow pants suit that was soaked from the rain and a pair of two-toned snakeskin shoes, he went up to the front desk.

“Yes, can I help you?” The female officer on duty looked over her glasses.

“Yeah, you can.” Royce nervously out of habit combed through his beard. “I need to file a missing persons report.”

“Okay. First of all, how long has the person been missing?”

“Ever since last night.”

“What time last night?”

“The last time she called me was at two-thirty.”

“Two-thirty in the morning?”

“Yeah, when she got off of work.”

“Okay, sir.” The officer became judgmental as she took notice of all the gold bracelets and huge gaudy diamond pinky ring that graced his hand. “It hasn't been a solid twenty-four hours yet, but I guess I can at least still write up an inquiry. What's the person's name?”

“Nicole Daniels.”

“And her relationship to you?” She wrote in black ink on the report pad.

“She's my woman.” Royce looked around hoping none of the dudes he conducted business with saw him come in.

“And her date of birth?”

“Sometime in March.”

“You don't know the exact date?”

“Naw, I don't.”

“Well, what's her approximate age?”

“She's twenty-two, naw, I mean twenty-three.”

“And you said this missing person is your woman or your daughter?” the shocked officer antagonized glancing back up as she realized the despicable and appalling age difference.

“My woman I said!” Royce took immediate offense to her statement.

“Well, are you sure she just didn't run off somewhere with some of her friends?”

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

“Okay then.” She giggled under her breath as she continued to gather information. “And where was she the last time you spoke to her?”

“She was in the parking lot at Alley Cats.”

“Alley Cats?” The officer's demeanor took a serious, unprofessional turn. “You mean the sleazy strip club Alley Cats?”

“Yeah, if you wanna call it that.” Royce heard a lot of commotion going on outside of the front doorway and once again hoped it wasn't involving any street colleagues he was aquatinted with.

The female officer, whose husband had left her and their three small kids for a young stripper who worked at that very club, grew infuriated. She couldn't believe that this drugstore-dressed pimp had the nerve to be standing in front of her being so stupid as to believe that a common pole swinger could be loyal to anyone, let alone his old behind. She contemplated even taking the complaint wasting taxpayers' money on foolishness.

“What's a number you can be reached at if we hear anything?” she grunted.

Giving the officer all the contact numbers he had, Royce crept toward the exit praying to duck back out as quietly as he'd come in. When the glass door slid open, two burly officers struggled bringing in a girl in handcuffs who rammed Royce with her shoulder.

“Get the fuck out my way, old man!” she screamed out.

Royce didn't want any added attention so he left without saying a word.

“Dang, how could you?” Tangy recklessly stormed through the tiny one-bedroom apartment. “I was locked up ninety damn days behind some dumb bullshit you got me caught up in and you fucked somebody else?”

“Would you just listen to me?” Vanessa begged.

“Listen for what? You's a tramp! Bottom line!”

“Tangy, please!”

“Get the fuck away from me before you piss me off again!” Tangy slammed the kitchen cabinet causing a chalk sketching of the once blissful lovebirds had taken at the park to fall off the wall and shatter.

“I said I'm sorry.” Vanessa followed her angry girlfriend around trying to plead her case. “Let me explain.”

“What is it to say?”

“The car note payment was twelve days past due, the lights were about to get cut off, and I had an eviction notice. What'd you want me to do, be put out on the streets?”

“Naw, I wanted you to do exactly what you did! Fuck my little cousin's man!”

“I said I'm sorry!”

“You could've grabbed your dance bag and hit a couple of clubs before you went out like that.”

“Yeah, Tangy, you right, but I needed the money real quick and O.T. looked out.”

“Ho, get off his nuts and out my face!”

Ever since returning home from the hospital, Tangy was busy packing all her belongings. Having had enough of Vanessa time and time again betray her, she opted to end their relationship once and for all. Vanessa, on the other hand, was trying everything in her power to keep her woman at home.

“Is this your CD or mine?” Tangy fumed going through their music collection.

“Why you being so petty?

“What?”

“You heard me!” Vanessa knocked the disc out her hands and stomped it. “What about us?”

“Us? Us? Bitch! Wasn't you just with O.T.? Didn't you just have his nasty-ass dick inside you?” Tangy yoked her up slapping her twice in her face. “So get the fuck on!”

Vanessa held her jaw in pain as the tears rolled down. “I already let you jump on me this morning and I ain't hit you back, but you ain't gonna keep dogging me!”

“Oh yeah?” Tangy let her jealous fury loose for the second time that day, back slapping Vanessa across the room. Then socking her into the brass and glass bookshelves she started kicking her.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Tangy's cell phone started to go off bringing an abrupt halt to her rage. Knowing that it could've been the hospital with information about Paris, she went to the other side of the small living room answering the call.

“Yeah, hello.” She panted out of breath as Vanessa lay balled up crying.

“Hey, chick, it's me, Kenya.”

“Oh hey, Kenya!” Tangy grinned knowing the mere mention of that name would make Vanessa infuriated and pissed. “How you feeling today, baby doll?”

“I'm good.” Kenya thought nothing of Tangy being affectionate because she always was. “Me and Storm headed out in this rain to take care of some business, but I wanted to check in. How's Paris doing? What's the latest?”

“Well, sweetie, the doctor moved her to a semi-private room so they could observe her and run a few more tests, but if you want I can swing by and pick you tomorrow up so me and you can visit Paris together.”

Out the corner of her eye, Tangy watched Vanessa crawl in to the other room. She quickly turned her back against the wall so she could be ready when Vanessa returned probably with knife in hand ready to slice some shit up. After five or six minutes more of talking to Kenya, strangely enough to Tangy, the usually overly aggressive Vanessa hadn't come back out in the living room or even made a sound. Making sure to promise to call Kenya back later, Tangy hung up. A few seconds later there were several loud knocks on the door.

“Who the hell is it?”

“Police! Open up!”

“What!”

“Police! Open this door!” They banged harder as the frame shook.

“No, this stankin' bitch didn't call these hoes!” Tangy sucked her teeth smashing a glass mirror with her fist.

“Police! Open the door!”

Before Tangy knew it Vanessa flew past her, flinging the front door wide open and she was face down on the carpet, a knee pressed in her spine, being handcuffed.

“Oh, it's like that? How you gonna play me? You know I'm still on paper!” Tangy wrestled as the officers hauled her down the stairs roughly dragging her body through the wet, uncut grass forcing her to lie by the squad car tires. “Now you can get back with O.T., you dirtball skank! Fuck you and him!” were her ultimate vindictive words before they tossed her inside slamming the rear door shut. “Y'all both got it coming when I get out!”

Vanessa, feeling like she'd gotten revenge for that ass kicking and Tangy out of Kenya's grip stood smugly in the picture window holding a wet washcloth to her face.

When the officers reached the precinct intake center, Tangy's tirade and attitude had gotten worse. As she was being marched inside, the wild, masculine female bumped, mean mugged, and vulgarly cursed everyone in her path, even an old pimp obviously in distress.

“Throw her in the back holding cell until she calms down!” the female desk sergeant demanded. “I'll let the detectives deal with her in the morning!”