Heavy leaned back again, staring at the ceiling like the answer might be written up there somewhere. “I don’t know,” he said, honestly.
Tish sighed. “Exactly. I ask and get that type of answer. You don’t know, or you don’t want to see me?”
He faintly smirked at that, even though she couldn’t see it. “I’ma pull up on you.”
“Mhm. Okay. I’ll believe it when I see it. Don’t forget I was the one holding it down out here and coming to see you behind those bars.”
“You saying it as if I forced you to.” Heavy’s head reared back some at her words.
“I wanted to,” Tish quickly added. “But still… I was there.”
“And I don’t take that lightly. You know that.”
“I’m starting to wonder if you do,” she admitted.
Heavy leaned forward again, scratching his locs. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like I don’t appreciate you.”
Tish went quiet again, knowing he definitely showed his gratitude. Heavy had contributed to more than a few bills and tons of orgasms. Those were the only things they seemed toenjoy doing together now. Getting money and having sex. Have sex and get money. Anything outside of that was nonexistent, and the reason Tish was on his line whining. He got it, though. A lot of shit had changed, including him and their on-again, off-again situation.
“I just miss you,” she said, softer this time. “That’s all.”
“I know. I’ll be through there.”
Tish smiled, already making a grocery list of things to grab when she got off work. “Okay. What you got a taste for?”
Heavy was almost embarrassed by how quickly his mind drifted somewhere else entirely. Cyren crossed it without warning, making his mouth water at the thought of eating her pussy again.
“I don’t know. Cook whatever.” Heavy didn’t even care anymore.
“Okay,” she said. “Just don’t have me waiting all night looking stupid.”
“I’m not.”
“Mhm,” she hummed, not fully convinced but not pushing it either. “Okay. Be safe and text me when you’re on the way.”
He told her he would and got right back to business. After counting and organizing the last bag of money, he slid the stacks inside the duffel bag, hoisting them on each shoulder. He made his way down the hall, through the living room and kitchen, toward the back door that led to the garage.
Stepping inside it, he opened the trunk of a smoky gray Dodge Durango and placed the bags inside. Like his Tahoe, this too was heavily tinted and still in great condition thanks to his grandfather. Mr. G kept everything Heavy owned in mint condition.
He pulled out of his garage with his gun in his lap and his mind drifting back to Tish. Something about her throwing it in his face, how she’d been there for him while he was locked down,rubbed him the wrong way. Heavy hadn’t asked her to. He didn’t even expect her to since they had only met three months prior.
Heavy first spotted her at Façade, a strip club in the city. He, Dre, and a few of their homeboys had pulled up to show one of their homegirls love on her birthday. Tish hadn’t hit the stage yet, but she was working the floor. Her slim, chocolate frame, angelic face, and big ass titties, of course, captured his eyes. But it was the slick movements of her dealing drugs right underneath the owner’s nose that made him even more interested in getting her name and credentials.
With the amount of money that came through there every night, Heavy didn’t mind her pushing some pills for him. All it took was a bit of charm, a few interactions outside of the club, and for his homegirl to give him the greenlight about Tish, and it was a go. Somehow, their business transactions turned intimate, and Tish was riding his bid out with him and handling business on the outside.
She didn’t disappear as most women would’ve; still, Heavy wasn’t committed. He couldn’t imagine them being in a serious relationship. She could get the dick, though. That’s about as much of him as Heavy was willing to give, now, and that dick was plentiful, so there really shouldn’t have been any complaints.
Before Heavy could think too much about why he hadn’t settled down and made things official with her, his phone rang again. Had he not had business to handle, he would’ve shut it off. It was as if everyone needed to talk to him today, and he was tired of taking calls. His demeanor quickly changed when he saw it was his niece, Ashtyn, calling from her iPad.
“What’s up, boo,” Heavy greeted, smiling into the camera.
“Uncle Heavy…” Her small voice came through shaky, as if she were trying not to cry.
His whole posture shifted. “What’s wrong?”
