“He also knew what type of women walked that street. And what kind of transactions were made. The address he gave you was for the building on the next street from where I stood. He’d given you the hotel’s name but the address wasn’t accurate.
“He’s in debt. Gambling debt. Three hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars worth of debt. Daniels’ payment didn’t settle that debt. It lessened it, not settled it. Which means… more than likely…”
“He’s plotting again.”
I nodded.
“And, I can bet my last dollar you’re his victim. Again. He’s playing on your vulnerability. He wanted you to lose. I couldn’t let him win, Ishmael. I couldn’t. He didn’t deserve that victory. When I say that I am for you,” I choked. Tears cascaded down my cheeks.
“I mean it. I mean it, Ish. Maybe my methods are unorthodox. Maybe I don’t go about things the right way. But, don’t even question my loyalty to you. I’m for you. I’ve been for you since the night I met you and I didn’t even know you.
“I only want what’s best for you. Best for us. I’m sorry I wasn’t more transparent. I’m sorry I hid things from you. I’m sorry you had to find out the way you found out. But, I am not sorry for putting you in a position to win. I will do it again and again and again.”
Everything hurt at once.
“I’ve never been so invested in someone. I’ve never been so deeply moved, deeply loved. Or so deep in my feelings. Not like I am with you. The thought of not having you breaks me to pieces. I have so much shit with me, Ishmael, but I am good. I am good for you.”
I couldn’t contain my emotions. I was a blubbering wreck.
“I’m not used to feeling this way. And, I don’t like it. The last two weeks have been hell for me. I hate waking up without you beside me or on my cell. Sleep has been impossible. My world has been flipped upside down.
“I don’t want to fight, Ishmael. I just want you next to me. I don’t want you to walk away. I don’t want to walk away. I’m ready for all that comes with us. We’re not perfect people. Things will arise. But I’m here. I want this. I want you.”
The wheels stopped. I peered up at my home, baffled.
“I don’t want to be here.”
“You have no choice.”
I didn’t care to hear his explanation. I bolted from the car, forgetting I was shoeless.
The struggle to keep my balance was counterproductive. Still, I managed to close the door behind me.
“Bullshit,” I fussed.
“My baby–” Ishmael called out to me.
I pushed forward, determined to reach my door.
“I’m not in the business of begging niggas. Go home, Ishmael.”
“I am home.”
“Fuck you.”
“I was hoping you would, but I need you to make up your mind.”
He pushed my body up against the car.
“One minute you sending cryptic messages on Instagram, telling me to come get you with your location attached, knowing damn well I was getting on the PJ no matter what hour of the day it was. Next you’re trying to escape me.
“Then you’re threatening to put me in a shit bag if I leave you. Crying telling me how much you want to work through our shit and can’t live without me. Now you’re not begging niggas and its fuck me. What you want, my baby?”
He made it hard for me to breathe. He was too close. He felt too good against my body.
“I don’t want to sleep in my bed. I want to sleep in yours.”
“We’re hours away from my bed.”
