“Nah, you said I could have all yo’ cake yesterday when I had Tia at yo’ dome. I’m gon’ put one of these in my shit on yo’ dime.”
“Who the heck is Tia? You brought a female in my house?” I shouted. The fact that he was bold enough to kidnap mewasn’t enough. He brought a female into my home and that was disrespectful as fuck.
“Aw, look at you being jealous and shit. She ain’t nothing but my baddest bitch I keep with a fully loaded clip. You trying to meet her again? Apparently, you like the way she feels when her barrel pressed against yo’ head.”
He referred to his gun as Tia. I instantly thought of the twins Tia and Tamera Mowry. Such a cliché, especially if he had another one to match. Men, they loved to name their items after women but couldn’t respect them in the slightest.
“Black, I would like to wash my ass. Is that too much to ask?”
I ignored what he was saying simply because I did tell him I had money, and he could have it all as a tactic to be set free. Now he was bringing up that same statement because he found something he liked.
He was back in my space ready to assist me. I was five foot ten inches and normally towered over my peers. However, Black had height that allowed me to look up at him. Outside of the models I worked with, there weren’t many people I looked up to, to hold conversation. I was usually the tallest in the room.
“Stop offering shit you not gon’ give up. That’ll make me put you down for real. I don’t like liars or muthafuckas that can’t stand on what the fuck they say.”
“We’re not friends, so I really don’t give a fuck about what you saying, Black. I’m the hostage here, not you.”
“Hostage? I ain’t kidnap you,” he said with a turned-up lip.
My brows slightly dipped, my eyes squinted, as my head fell to the side. I tried to see it from his point of view. I was stuck even more. There was no way in hell this man thought this wasn’t an act of kidnapping. I was held at gun point and forced to bring him to my home. Nothing about thisvisitwas natural.
“I’m not even… just help me to the shower.” He bent down to scoop me up, and I stopped him. “I can walk, Black. I need to walk if I want to regain energy and strength in my limbs again.”
“I thought you said that shit was too far.”
“It is, but I want to walk.” Nodding, he cradled my waist and let me make that sluggish walk. He didn’t complain surprising the hell out of me. I fully expected him to talk shit with every step I took, but he showed me how much patience he had.
Stopping at the entrance of the shower, he asked, “What now?”
He had no idea how much care he displayed when he questioned me with something so simple. Wanting to know what was next or if he was still needed even if it was an annoyance. Nesh was the only person outside of my parents that showed attentiveness, but now I was receiving it from Black and what made it so noticeable to me was how unrecognizable it was to him. He had the trait without realizing it.
“Help me undress. Just my shirt, and I’ll handle everything else from there.”
What seemed like an eternity had finally come to an end. He handled me like fragile glass, not pulling or tugging roughly at the little thread I wore. At least he had some respect despite his bluntness. As soon as he unclipped my bra, I grew nervous and paranoid.
“Okay, I got it from here,” I said stepping forward.
“Good. Ain’t nobody want to see that saggy shit anyway, Demi. Next time you want to give a strip tease, make it worth it.”
“Fuck you, Black.” This time I was aware of his reference. The actress Demi Moore and her role in the movie Striptease was iconic though. I didn’t find that shit funny at all.
“I already told you no. Stop begging. It ain’t a good look.”
“Begging? Nigga, you wish I was begging to make me cum. Whatever fantasy you done cooked up, let it go. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you get any of my cookies,” I sassed.
Black did this thing where he smirked whenever he gave me a once over. It was something I noticed almost instantly. Creepy but not cringey. I didn’t have a clue on what disturbing or inappropriate thoughts were running through his head. What I did know was there was no attraction, and the lines would never be crossed.
“Careful, Brat. I’d hate to have to prove you wrong. What else you need from me? You already woke me up on bullshit,” he warned.
“You keep calling me Brat? Who the hell is that?” I inquired. I was over the disrespect.
“Damn, you don’t know yo’ name? I guess since you the one behind the bullshit you can’t pick it up. You too fuckin’ spoiled and the way you think ordering me around won’t get yo’ head knocked off is crazy. You demanding as fuck and you talk a lot of shit as if taking care of yo' enabled ass is my job. The only reason I ain’t shut you up permanently is because I don’t hit women.”
I instantly became cautious and more mindful of how I spoke to him. Then again, that feeling left just as quick as it came. If he wanted to throw some names around this bitch we could. He was a thief and an entitled ass lil’ boy. The nerve of him to hop in my car, then demand to be brought to my home and expect me to abide by his rules. I paid every bill in this muthafucka and the only person who needed to realize that was him.
“Now, what else do you need from me old lady?”
My glare was deadly. If looks could kill, the coroner would be picking his body up by now. Surviving was the only thing on my mind. If he wanted to be a smart ass, so could I.
