I didn’t say anything. Pulled my lips into my mouth and swallowed.
“You don’t got shit to say? I just walked in on you gettin fucked by another nigga. What the fuck, Ne?!” He yelled, standing.
I didn’t bulge. I sat there, fingers brushing up against the metal of my pocketknife, fully prepared to use it if I had to. Hell yeah I had a pocketknife. I didn’t leave the house without it. And as soon as Crescent left, I fished around my purse for it. Sat on the couch, with my hand wrapped around it, waiting. I didn't want to hurt Duke, but if pushed to, I would. I mean, therewasn’t much he could do with a broken arm, but still. He was a man. An angry man at that.
Again, I didn't say anything. Just stared at him as he stood, with raised brows.
“I—I come down here to... to talk to you about what Sienna just... what Sienna just gave me and I find... I find you with,” he paused, pacing back and forth.
“Ahhhhh!” Duke yelled, punching a hole in the wall, making me flinch. “I can’t believe this shit! Really? This... this how you do me, Mahogany? This how you fuckin’ do meeee?” He cried.
I wasn’t quiet to taunt him. I honestly didn’t know what to say. I was speechless. Because, what could I say? That he shouldn’t have been here? That if he hadn’t come down here he wouldn’t have seen shit? I didn’t have anything to add to the conversation. Nothing that wouldn’t add to his misery. So, I just sat there, with pinched brows, watching his every move.
“How could you do this to me?” He cried, losing his mind. He walked up to me and kneeled in front of me, his free hand on my thigh. “You let that nigga—how... how long has it been going on? Is that why you want a divorce? Is that why you’re leaving me? Hm? ‘Cause you been fucking with that nigga?”
“Duke what?” I asked, in disbelief. “You know why I’m leaving you. It has nothing to do with what just?—
Before I could say anything, he wrapped his hand around my neck and pushed me against the back of the couch. I struggled with the knife, trying to open it with my thumb, but I couldn’t. He was like a mad man, squeezing my neck. His eyes were bulging and there was a thick vein in the middle of his forehead. I struggled to breathe. I gripped his wrist, trying to pry his hand from around my neck. When that didn’t work, I went for his injured arm, hitting him as hard as I could.
“Ahhh!” He yelled finally letting go, pacing again.
I gasped for air and hurriedly opened the pocketknife, aiming at him.
“I can’t do this shit, bro,” He mumbled. “I can’t—I can’t do this shit! Why Ne? Why you—fuck!”
“Get the fuck out!” I yelled. “Get—get the fuck out and do not... do not go to my fuckin’ house!”
“Yo fuckin’ house? Bitch that’s my house too. Shut the fuck up. I can go wherever the fuck I want to go. Fuck out of here with that bullshit. You actin’ all high and mighty like I didn’t just catch you gettin’ fucked by another nigga!”
I laughed, ran my tongue over my bottom lip and shook my head. “I’m tellin you... don’t go to my muthafuckin house!”
“Who gon’ stop me? You with yo lil ass pocketknife? Fuck out of here bitch. Had that bitch hit me with divorce papers, I come up here and you—fuck out of here. I’m goin to my muthafuckin’ crib with my muthafuckin’ kids and you ain’t gone do shit about it.” He cut his eyes at me, giving me the nastiest look he’d ever given me. “You lucky I don’t kill yo ass. Bitch. Fuck wrong with you?”
In all of the years that I’d known Ducati I had never in my life been scared of him. He was Duke. My Duke. Always respectful regardless of what we had going on. Always calm and cool, even in the middle of a crisis. But tonight? Tonight, he was a different person. I didn't know this version of him. Had never witnessed him so... mad. And especially not towards me. But then again, he’d never caught me doing anything. To him, I was his innocent, faithful wife. Someone who was loyal and only capable of having sex with him. Tonight changed everything. And for a split second, I thought he might really kill me. One arm and all.
"Duke just.... just go. If you go to the house, I’m calling the police and?—
“They can’t make me leave dumb ass. I’m on the deed—it’s my house too,” he nastily spat, with his top lip curled up. “Bitchyou think I want to be around you? I want to be around my kids. I already gotta move. I’m staying there as long as I can. I don’t give a fuck about you.”
I watched as he wiped tears from his face, steady pacing.
“I can’t believe you did this shit to me, bro,” he cried. “Why you doin’ this shit to me, Ne? Hm? You—you rippin my fuckin heart out my chest bro. Why you have to do this to me, Mahogany? I—I love the fuck out of you and you... I—we... man.”
He was erratic. I was quiet. I didn’t have anything else to say. Was I supposed to apologize? Tell him I didn’t mean to do it? Was I supposed to be remorseful? It wasn’t ideal... him catching me. But it happened and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing I would say to plead my case or pacify him. Fuck him. Do you know how many nights I cried? How many times he ripped my heart out of my gotdamn chest? Too many times to count.
“What? You about to ride off into the sunset with that nigga? Hm? You about to marry that nigga? Be that nigga bitch? That’s what you think you about to do? Bitch, I’ll kill him,” he threatened. “In front of you.”
Sucking my teeth, I waved him off. “Ducati please.”
“That's the problem. A lot of muthafuckas been playin with me like I’m a bitch. You been handling me any type of way. Treating me like shit. So, you think shit smooth, but I swear on my kids, if I see that nigga again I’m killin him.”
"Don't be putting shit on my kids, nigga?—
He laughed. “Think I’m playin’ if you want to.”
I didn’t say anything else. I just stood there, watching him, letting him pace and talk shit. He was all over the place. One minute he loved me with everything in him, the next he hated me and was calling me bitches, threatening to kill me and Crescent if he saw us together. Said he didn’t give a fuck if it was at the job, he was killing him. Said he would post up outside of the buildingwaiting if he needed to. He was itching to kill him. Hated the fact that his arm was broken and Crescent got the upper hand on him. Said that if shit would've been different, he would’ve killed him with his bare hands. And for some reason, I believed he would have tried. Duke wasn’t a hood nigga, but he could throw hands. Things definitely would have gone differently if he wasn’t injured.
My phone rang and I looked over at it sitting on the desk. He looked over at it too, looked at me, and walked over to the desk to pick it up. With the corners of my mouth turned up, I let him. At this point, what the fuck did I have to hide? We were getting a divorce. He got the papers. From that point forward I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to do. What happened to day with him catching me was his fault, and his fault only.
