I glanced down at the camera with a grin, then erased it with a frown when I noticed she wasn’t dressed yet. We had reservations for a rooftop dinner at five—that was the detail she needed to know. I’d already handled everything else.
“Why the fuck you ain’t dressed yet?” I asked.
When I said everything was on me, I meant that shit. I paid to get her pussy waxed, nails, toes, hair done, and brows arched. Going above and beyond, I picked out a dress I wanted to see her in because I loved the color on her skin.
It was a peach silk dress that exposed her back. There was a deep V-line cut between her breasts and a high slit that stopped at her thighs. If she moved the wrong way, her bare pussy would be exposed. That number was for me, and it was sexy enough for me to appreciate her body in it.
“I had to make sure the kids were okay before I left.”
I stale-faced as I entered the house and turned off the alarm. “I told you my mama is coming on the way to get them.”
“She already left with them.”
“Then you ain’t got no fuckin’ excuse,” I spat.
Facing the camera again, I caught her rolling her eyes and pouting her lips.
“Keep on rolling those pretty motherfucka’s—they gon’ be stuck.”
“I didn’t call my man to have him yell at me.”
“Your man,” I smirked. “I like the sound of that.”
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.” I set the phone on the island and staggered over to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. Twisting the cap, I gulped it down, finishing the last bit before tossing it in the trash and putting my face back in view of the camera.
“I’m scared to see how my hair is gonna turn out. I haven’t had a silk press in so long.”
I snatched my gaze away from her face and at her head. Her hair was in rollers—the kind my mama would wear for bed before putting on her bonnet.
“You ain’t goin’ with them shits in yo head, is you?”
“No,” she grimaced. “Damn fool!” She laughed.
“Watch ya mouth.”
“How’d it go with Monterrius? Did he seem nervous? I told him not to give away that this is his first job.”
“You didn’t have to, because I asked him. It wasn’t hard to tell. He needs to know how it feels to have his own money instead of asking you for shit all the time. I had three jobs when I was his age.”
“Well, how much is he getting paid by the hour? I may need to be put in an application and come work for you,” she grinned.
“Naw. Hell nah,” I laughed. “I’on need you klepto ass workin’ for me. Then I’d really have to put a bullet in yo fuckin’ head.”
“You know what…” she carried on as we both laughed. “I’m hanging up on that note. I’ll be ready by five, bae.”
“I love you, Juicy,” I spoke seriously, in my normal tone—raspy and deep.
“I love you too, Romelo.”
I felt lame as hell for blushing the way I was. Juicy could brag on the effects of having me this way. Shit felt so different this time around, and I wasn’t doing shit to fuck it up.
Arriving to pick her up, I was best dressed—feeling like the freshest nigga on earth in a Cartier suit jacket, a bowtie, Derby Dior shoes, an Audemars Piguet, and some VVS diamond studs. I looked classic as fuck—dressing to impress my lady. My heart pounded hard through my chest as I waited for her to exit the house, standing in front of my matte black Rolls Royce, feeling like a boss.
When the French-styled doors opened, she looked like she’d been ripped straight out of a magazine. Seeing her, my dick jumped while a grin plastered across my face. I licked my lips, groped my chin, and nodded in approval. The dress hugged every curve, and the gold YSL heels added to her height. It took her a second to walk on the gravel, but when she neared me, I reached my hand out, wrapped it around the dip in her back, and bent down to kiss her.
“I’ma fuck around and put a baby in yo ass tonight.”
