Moodlist
Foolish - Ashanti
Me, Myself and I - Beyoncé
I Can Love You - Mary J. Blige featuring Lil' Kim
Love to Lose - Sinead Harnet
Our first argument was always going to be a big one.
In a way, we were fighting our own Cold War. Little jibes were thrown back and forth, concealing the bigger, overarching motives behind the fighting. Two opposing political belief systems, or in this case, personalities, using a foreign land as our battle grounds.
We chose work to dig our trenches.
I had been working on bringing my father's executioner to heel. After all this time, I still didn't understand why he was targeted. The man was one of the least competitive, or aggressive movers and shakers amongst the ranks. A stand up guy that had been a bonafide associate for his whole adult life.
I did know it was the Russians though. And I knew it was them because of the nerve agent that had been used to do it.
Novichok.
A name given to a group of chemicals that arrested the body's functions in a slow and painful decline. No hospital was ever prepared to deal with the victim of nerve agent poisoning, most doctors would never come across a victim of the terrible fate in their life time.
Novichoks are strictly developed by the MRU, an acronym for the arm of the Kremlin that rivals the CIA. It was a word I would never be able to pronounce, although Vanessa had learned from Raymond. She had actually learned quite a bit of Russian over the months. Enough to have a conversation.
Anyway, the use of the chemical meant that the warrant had been signed off somewhere within the Russian Government. I wasn't tryna think about all that though.
I wanted to go ahead full steam ahead and press every vein we knew that the Russians had on the coast to get him emerge. Vanessa was staunchly opposed to the idea. Had she done what she would have even a week ago, which was cuddle me in the bed of our apartment, and expressed her concerns for my safety in only the way the woman of your affections could, I would have probably taken a bit of a different approach.
However, the change that I observed in Vegas was a double edged word.
She was different; a heightened version of herself. It was what being assured of my feelings for her did. I couldn't hide them if I tried, so she no longer felt the need to butter me up. The prospect of being killed had long ceased to be a worry for her. She knew I would rather swallow a denim jacket whole that do that. She also knew I wouldn't extend the agreement any further.
Now that I had basked in the sunlight of her affection, I would do what it takes to keep that tan. Extending the agreement would be me exerting my control in a way that was disadvantageous to her. It would upset the careful balance of things she had put in place to allow her feelings for me to escape her heart. Ultimately, doing so would firmly cast me back outside, a place I didn't want to be. So she had the full scope to argue.
And argue she did.
I remember when she spoke about her desire to have kids. She spoke of a "Papa", a man that would love her and her kids abundantly. You wouldn't get any prizes for guessing that I did not want anyone other than myself to fulfil that role. To rise to the challenge and become a man that she would see worthy of accepting a surname from. I was putting the carriage in front of the horse in this fantasy. We had a lot of work left to do.
I, in this particular moment in time, held the biggest share of that work.
See, I wanted her by my side, but as she was at the moment. I couldn't see why she would want to be anymore than what I was planning to make her. My senior accounts manager. My confidant. My wife. She would always be a pace behind, but it was what she was doing now, and so well, so why change it?
This is why, when she spoke up in front of our five man band about her concerns with my approach, I reacted the way I did.
"I appreciate your concerns V, but this man has played in my face enough. I need to make my stance clear; the death of my father will not go unavenged." It was a sore point for me. My dad's death hurt me way more that I could articulate. He was my hero; a man who didn't look like me but had the exact same energy. He filled the room and uplifted everyone in it. If he hadn't been born into the life, he might have become a teacher or a writer. Something where he got to tell a story.
My childhood was a happy one. I didn't know it wasn't normal to only have your dad around for the backend of the week. My mom was always happy when he was there, though when she found out about his double life she called it quits. The only way he would compromise was if she moved to the east coast, so that the soil we walked on would be marked as protected by the powers that be.
She agreed and we made the move. Mom resisted his charm for a long time, frustrated he had besmirched her otherwise flawless moral compass. She only gave into his pleas for forgiveness in her children's adulthood, having been satisfied that he was a changed men.
Seeing my mom fraught with regret, wishing she had given in earlier so she could had more time with the love of her life alone was enough fuel for me to want to burn the whole city down.
"Angelo, let's walk this back for a moment. You know that although executed by Vasiliev, that this order came from the top. If you pull this string too hard, you might tug on Vladimir Putin's finger. That's not heat that any of us in this organisation are able to withstand. Russia have made it clear that they don't care about killing US nationals on US soil. Let's take a step back, and reverse engineer it. Vince, can you pull the flight manifests of 8 weeks prior to and after your father's passing to see if we can find anything? It might be best if Ray looks over you shoulder, in case there are any names that aren't obviously Russian that might be of interest."
Calm, even, thorough, measured. She was doing what she was here to do.
Last night she got in a bad mood, so slept with her back to me. It was temporary, seeing that she woke me up with kisses this morning, but it still smarted. I was acutely aware that she was withholding that one last bit, and the cold shoulder made me feel that more.
So that left over irritation, was elevated into anger when she undermined me the way she did. She had done it a few times in her stint with me. And deep down, I knew she couldn't help it. She was a leader, my complete match.
Right now though, I didn't feel like being challenged.
"Are you questioning my authority, Miss Cruz?" It wasn't as sexy when I used her name in this context. What I really wanted to say was "Why won't you give in, V, I gave into you?"
"No, I'm doing my job, which is providing a contrasting point of view." Her tone was curt and clipped. The mood had returned with a vengeance. What she really wanted to tell m was, "See, this is why I wasn't fuckin' with your duck ass last night."
"You point of view had been considered and dismissed."
"You hurt my feelings when you freeze me out. If I've upset you, just talk to me."
She countered, "You are putting everyone in the organisation at risk for the sake of haste. I strongly suggest that you reconsider and take a different tact."
"Why would I if this is what happens when I give you constructive criticism?"
Our audience was not blind. They had seen us have conversations of a similar vain before. We had gotten to the point that we didn't have to speak in full sentences. Day 125 marked the first time we did that. Sometimes Guido would scratch his head in confusion at what he had just bore witness to, and then V, my more patient half would explain it in full.
They knew there had been a shift in our dynamic, and they had all secretly been rooting for it. Everyone loved Vanessa. It was hard not to. They thought she was good for me in both business and on a personal level, but weren't aware of the slant that our agreement put on things.
"In the space of 5 minutes you have insinuated I am stupid, unaware, reckless and now you're calling my leadership into question? Is there anymore you'd like to say to me Vanessa? Would you like me to take off my fucking pants and give them to you to fucking wear?" It felt good to say that in the moment but I paid the price later.
Guido in particular felt the need to intervene and protect the young woman he had grown to see as a niece. "Aye, aye, aye, there no need to get personal, we're just having a discussion!"
The man had asked me to do something I didn't want to. I conceded to his wishes when I leaned back in my chair and relaxed my posture slightly. The fact that I had not given my lady the same grace was what put the final nail in my coffin.
"I was not trying to call your leadership into question." She was, rightfully so. "I apologise if that's how you felt." She wasn't sorry for a muthafucking thing. "Look, I've got a meeting with that Canadian to get to about that thing, so I'm going. Ray, can you meet me in the parking lot when you're done please?" Fuck you, I'm out you fucking bastard.
With that, she stood up and left the room. Watching her leave would always be bittersweet, because as much as I loved her presence, I also loved seeing that ass she had on her. Everyone else in the room was wise enough not to cast their eyes on her form.
"Fuck, Gelo, you couldn't have just taken a moment to breathe?" Vince piped up. Vanessa was the sister he never had. He didn't take to kindly with people messing with her.
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about Vinny." I responded exasperatedly. My hand run down my face, and I could start to taste the regret in my mouth. I could even feel it creeping into my teeth.
"What, the fact that y'all niggas is deep in love and you think nobody knows?" Fuck.
I didn't care that they knew, hell, I wanted them to know. I wasn't quite ready to call it love yet, but Vince voicing it out didn't make my body jerk with rejection as it once would have. Instead, the words rolled around in my skull, slipping into the pool of emotion that was reserved for my lady.
"Can we have the room please?" Chairs scraped and feet shuffled. Raymond was particularly eager to get out, probably to console the young lady. He would have capped me if I wasn't his boss. Or if she shed even one tear.
Once alone, Vince continued. "You know she's right. She made every bit of sense. This is about something else. You need to fix shit with your lady, bro, you can't come in here and ambush her like that. You know she's got eyes on her body, you gon' be real mad if someone else snatches her up." Impossible. That wasn't happening. It was enough to bring me to my senses though.
"Pull those manifests, see where you get with it."
The Canadian I was talking about was Malia.
We had become super close in my time with Angelo. She was the only other black woman in a sea of white men, and she understood not only the pressures of that, but also those of dealing with the ego of a mobster.
I was pissed. So much that my leg had been shaking my entire way over to Malia's house. I dropped her a text to let her know I was on my way. She let me know that she was actually about to call me over. I couldn't wait to start spilling tea with my good sis.
She didn't know about the arrangement. But she had eyes, and everyone and their mama now knew that Lo and I had crossed the boundaries our occupations bound us to. To her it was the classic "I fell in love with my boss story." That was convenient enough for me; and meant I didn't have to mince my words quite as finely.
When she opened her door my irritation dissipated instantly.
Her green eyes were watery, red with unshed tears. She looked pale and her hair was up in an "I'm packing" top knot, so when she stepped into my arms and started crying, I knew Capo Ale was the cause.
See, their relationship wasn't as serene as she would have you believe. I gleaned it from conversations we had previously. They got married when they were kids, and then Ale became a footsoldier. He started his steep climb to Capo Regime in his own right, having arrived there a few years back. He was more into drugs, and his business took him away a lot.
With the distance it would only be a matter of time before the girls crept out of the woodworks.
She had ignored it at first. Too young to be so cynical, she prided herself in having trust for her man. She wouldn't be like her bitter mother and drive him away with false accusations. After all, he was bringing home the bacon, and affording her and her family a life of convenience and luxury.
He started taking liberties though. He became less secretive and more arrogant, feeling that she had accepted the new status quo. He made sure the girls never found their way to Malia's front door, but the parting souvenirs he had a habit of collecting did.
She was finding thongs and lipstick stains everywhere.
That's when she first left. She made it all the way back to Canada, where she hailed from before she was captured and returned to the man. He made promise after promise of change and she did what many women before her had done, took him back without evidence of it.
And on and on the cycle went. Most recently he had been pestering her for a baby, but she refused to fuck him without a condom for fear of her health. She suggested artificial insemination, after the relevant tests had been performed. He scoffed at the idea. Why would he pay to plant his seed in his wife when he had been doing it for free for years?
So he said he was willing to provide a clean bill of health every time they had sex. The only problem with that was that those tests weren't in real time.
See, Ale had an issue he couldn't contain. A nasty addiction he had picked up over the years. He knew better than to get high off his own supply, so abstained from drug and alcohol use altogether, but there was still a primal itch he couldn't scratch.
You would think for a man who had so much going for him, he would actually want to test regularly, given his promiscuity and penchant for spontaneous encounters with strange women, but it was the opposite actually. What was the saying?
Ignorance is bliss.
So he got tested once and duplicated those results, changing the date periodically. He even sent pictures of test vials of blood afresh every time to Malia, all to flesh out the elaborate and pointless ruse to get her to agree to try and conceive.
He saw it as justified means to his end; a way to get his stubborn wife to play ball. Surely once she had the kid he wouldn't have to worry about her leaving again.
So it continued until Malia got strange pains in her pelvis one evening. It started similar to period pains, no biggy, right? Quickly the pain progressed, until it became unbearable and she ended up in ER.
She had suffered an ectopic pregnancy.
Her dear husband had contracted chlamydia, a famously symptomless STI and had passed it onto his wife unknowingly. The infection spread to her Fallopian tubes, where it inflamed the tissue severely.
She had conceived, but due to that inflammation, the embryo implanted in her left tube, somewhere it would have long vacated in other circumstances. The normal cycle of early pregnancy continued until the small space couldn't contain her Fetus anymore.
When I had seen Malia at the door, she had just returned from hospital after losing her left Fallopian tube, and thereby a 50% chance of conceiving naturally.
This was devastation personified. The most cruel thing that a man could do to the one he claimed to love. He was overcome with guilt when they heard the verdict and instead of staying, left the young woman with her mother and took a trip to Colombia to alleviate his worries the best way he knew how.
Instead I would be here to pick up the pieces, and in doing that we would forge a sisterhood that withstood the test of time.
"I need you to help me disappear. For good."
They could tell my mood was worse than it had been when I left this morning.
We were at dinner, at one of the restaurants that Lo owned and I actually ran. Our whole band reconvened, Guido not being happy with how we all parted.
He forced us to "kiss and make up". A handshake was all that muthafucka was getting from me.
Nonetheless, I found myself immersed in conversation, willing tales of the wickedness of men Malia and I traded to go away.
"So Vessa, what are you looking for in a man?" Vince asked, causing Angelo to choke discreetly.
In the iconic words of the goddess Robyn Fenty I leaned back in my chair and said "I'm not looking for a man, let's start there!" I was appalled. If I gave vibes that I'm desperate for a man, something had to change ASAP, no Rocky.
"Don't be like that, look, I bet you wanna be with a man like your daddy. Isn't that what all girls want anyway?" His question was innocuous. Given that this was one part of my life I hadn't shared in full with any of the men sat at the table, I could forgive them for believing that to be the case.
"I would never want to be with a man who raises his hand to his wife and daughter." Silence. I could see the men shifting in their seats. Perhaps getting ever so slightly trigger happy.
"Your pops hit you?" Vince asked the question both him and his brother were desperate to know the answer to.
"Ernesto Cruz Senior? Hell yeah, he fought me like I was a nigga off the street." Although my tone was irreverent, hearing this drove the lip corners of both men down simultaneously, forming almost identical frowns.
"Okay, but let me think. If I were looking for a man, what would I want him to be like? I haven't given it much thought. For a long time I was ready to do life alon-"
"Nah, we're not just gonna breeze past the fact that your dad was hitting you. What's his address?" I hadn't seen this side of Vince before. He wasn't a violent guy, at least not to my knowledge.
Angelo knew the information so didn't have to ask. He was busy calculating how quickly he could get there.
"Don't. It's all history now. I cut him one time when he was choking me out pretty bad, and he has been chilling for the most part ever since." I don't know why I felt so comfortable sharing this in front of an audience of hardened criminals, but they were more than that to me. They were the first adult men I had come across that I had been loved by. And I returned their feelings. Even the one I wasn't ready to admit that to.
Raymond had heard enough and stood up. I did as well and calmed him, assuring him that whatever he had learned in the gulag wouldn't be necessary.
"Y'all, honestly, it's okay. My dad is a coward. He's been suicidal for years. He just doesn't have the guts to do it. By hurting or killing him you're giving him an out. Let him continue to fester, that's how I want him to live out the rest of his days, yuh zimmie?" This was my turf and what I said went, so the men relaxed.
"What made you ask?" I was curious, I had never seen Vince with anyone, male or female and I wanted to know if someone had cause his eye. He faltered under my intense scrutiny and my suspicions were confirmed.
"Don't tell me you got a lil' mamí hidden in the cut and this is the first time I'm hearing of it Vincenzo!?" I was offended. I would need to peep this girl out, to make sure shit was making sense. Any girl that crossed my brother would have to deal with me.
"Chill, I'm still scoping it out. She reminds me of you though, so I thought I'd ask you." Hmm. I had to have this girl's identity before the end of the evening.
"Well, I think I'd like to start by saying don't start at a level you can't maintain. That's the easiest way to avoid disappointment. If you don't feel you're up to her spec, do the work. If her spec will take you outside of your own character, she's not the girl for you."
He nodded letting my words soak in. I took that as my cue to continue.
"I think the thing I would revere most in a man is consideration and empathy. An ability to see the perspective of others, or a willingness to learn if you can't." I could feel eyes burning into me. I wasn't exactly describing the man I had become so attached to.
"I want someone who's a student of life. Committed to learning and shifting with me. Someone I can grow from and to. That would be nice." It's what I wished I could have with Lo. The ball was in his court about whether he could make it happen.
"You know, it's hard because I don't want to have a prescribed vision of what that man could look like. If he's that nigga, he's gon' make me feel it regardless." I rose to the challenge and stared directly into Lo's eyes. Only the arrival of our food would cause us to end our staring contest.
"Damn, I should have known you was finna say some deep shit. Here I was thinking buying her one of those bags that girls like would have been enough!" Vinny, ever the protector of a good vibe restored it with a quip that resulted in a round laughs.
Conversation moved on, but this topic, amongst others would come back up later. In fact I would spend most of my night talking about this.
Have you ever watched Malcolm & Marie?
If not, here's a synopsis: It's niggas arguing all night. The girl is right. The end.
That was my night. As soon as we got into the apartment, he ambushed me.
"Why didn't you tell me that your dad abused you, Vanessa?"
"Why didn't you tell me Athena is pregnant and you took a paternity test for it?"
Now we both got the 'I ate ass face' on. I know I was equating apples with oranges but I didn't care. This was the last night on the agreement and Lo hadn't even mentioned it. That had been the reason for my mood last night.
Athena. I didn't give a fuck about her.
She couldn't see me if she had God's pupils.
When I first caught wind of the goings on, my heart broke just a bit. A little bit of arithmetic revealed to me that the baby had to have been conceived before we met. But even if it hadn't, I didn't have a leg to stand on. We weren't in a monogamous relationship, although I knew he hadn't taken the company of another. I knew this because there literally wasn't time in the day. We were together most of the time and if not, we were on the phone.
Yet the thought killed me. And the fact that she would get his firstborn made my proverbial corpse turn in its grave.
I wanted that. Fuck him though.
"If you know that then you know that I'm not the father. I have literally been worshipping the ground you walk on since I first met you. I didn't say anything because it didn't concern you and it's not relevant." That was a lot of fucking attitude from the man who accidentally told me he wanted me to bear his child in the heat of the moment last week. And an overstatement of elephantine proportions. He'd never even looked at the ground I walk on. I paved every inch myself.
"Okay, well, there. You've got your answer. It's never been relevant." What would knowing have changed anyway? He didn't want a sob story when I met him. I didn't give him one.
"That's different and you know it." How so?
"No it's not, it happened before you met me. I don't want or need anything doing with him. Not relevant to you." He was starting to get frustrated. He did this thing where he brushed his hand over his head, while his other sat on his hip in frustration. It made him look like a man 30 years his senior.
"And besides, after everything else I told you about him, if this is the first time you have had a problem you wanted to take to his doorstep you're not as good a dude as you think you are." Oooh, dangerous. Calling his moral character into question was a bad idea, but I had been backed into a corner and the only way out was forward.
I won that round.
Let's be clear, we were not arguing to understand each other better, we were arguing to shut each other down. To undercut each other, time after time. Eventually someone's bone would be exposed.
Then there was the argument about work. He empathically explained that I could not call his leadership into question like that in front of company. It needed to be in the privacy of the four walls that knew the rest of our story.
I tried to argue that he gave into what Guido had asked of him, but was so hesitant to take advice from me. He pointed out that Guido had asked him to chill, I was giving orders, which admittedly, was not my place to do. As much as it came naturally.
I conceded to his point. Pick your battles.
The conversation about my dream man was back on the table. At this point we had been stood in dinner clothes for 90 minutes, having already thrashed out two major arguments. I decided to go take this godforsaken bra off. He followed, hot on my tail.
"So you're trying to tell me you wasn't being mad shady with your answer?" He was undoing his tie. Wristwatch and gun had already found their way to the bedside table.
"I'm saying that a hit dog will holler. I didn't say that my dream man was the antithesis of you. I said a real nigga gon' make me feel that shit regardless!" Period.
He stalked over to me and got in my face.
We weren't squaring up. In fact, an unknowing bystander may have thought we were about to have the most passionate sex. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.
"Remember who the fuck you're talking to. You can deny it all you want, I make you feel all that shit. I know you Nessa." I couldn't argue. He did. My heart started racing as soon as he came into my personal bubble. I held his eye contact, not wanting to back down. He was being insecure because he wasn't where I wanted him to be. My fucking heart knew that when it picked him, and it still did.
I never said he couldn't get there, but his reaction wasn't exactly reassuring.
"Would you rather I have said, Angelo Bartholomé Leone is the man of my dreams. Ismail would have had me in handcuffs before I could read the dessert menu."
This one was a truce.
At this point we were in casual clothes, looking crazy as hell, arguing. Still.
"Why won't you let me in Vanessa?!" Ah, there it was.
The fact that I had a last defence. A part of me that held a resilience he had only seen glimpses of. The thing that would ensure that I would live on without him.
He was never satisfied. He wanted to consume me. To have me transparent to his perusal. Well bad news buddy, he'd have to claw it from my cold dead hands.
"For what, Lo? You don't care!" That hurt him. He did care in his own way. He had shown me that. But I was tired and thinking about gathering all of my belongings and leaving the life that felt like it represented a bigger portion of my overall existence than it actually had.
"HOW DO YOU FUCKING KNOW, YOU WON'T GIVE ME THE CHANCE TO SHOW YOU!" The neighbours would definitely be putting in noise level complaints. It was well into anti-social hours when this man decided to yell at me. Too bad their landlord would simply tell them to mind the business that paid them.
"AND WHAT LO, WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT? HUH, ARE YOU GONNA WHOOP ME? I CAN HOLD MY LICKS! ARE YOU GONNA KILL ME? SENIOR ALREADY TRIED BUT BAD BITCHES CAN'T DIE!"
I hadn't meant to tell him all that. It was a sore memory for me, part of the soft centre I had built a fortress around.
His face went soft. He wasn't expecting this.
My eyes were swimming with tears, but I was praying they wouldn't fall. I couldn't afford it. For another man to know what he had the power to do to me.
I was shaking my head and retreating, feeling embarrassed I had even let him get me that hype. I was cool, calm and collected Vanessa. I didn't do this.
Although I wished he would have let me but I was grateful he didn't. His hug was all-encompassing and it was the last blow. It all came out then. I got snot on him and everything but he didn't care.
My body shook with wave after wave of emotion. He let it happen. It felt like that moment he checked my pulse to see if I was human.
I passed the test again.
He cradled me like a baby. I don't know he had this level of affection in him. He must have been watching closer than I realised when I had the baby at Sandra's. Waiting patiently, he knew I wasn't capable of speaking. Then he gave me the floor and I explained what I had alluded to.
Essentially, it happened during one of our escape attempts. We made a few through the years, but this was the first one I had co-ordinated. I was 16 and bright eyed. It had to work, it was perfect.
It indeed was not.
We were planning to leave under the cover of night, with all of our belongings in as many bags as we could carry. I had decided to do a last sweep of the tiny apartment, when I felt his arm hook around my neck. He held a blade against my throat, willing me to be silent. My mom came looking for me, having left Nesto at the door. When she turned in the light in the hallway, she was in the for the shock of her life.
Her husband with his daughter in a chokehold and a machete against her throat. He made a skin deep laceration, not enough to kill me, but enough to let her know he was serious.
My parents had this odd thing where they understood each other's language but couldn't respond in them. What he said next we all understood.
"You can go with the boy if you wish. But this one won't see the light of day if you do." I was shaking in fear, crying silently. My mom was my mirror image, getting down on her knees to beg.
It was her only opportunity and I was already giving up. So I told her it was okay. That she should go and make sure that Nesto has a better life than I had. She broke down after that. She had collapsed under the weight of the guilt of even considering the option for a split second. I didn't begrudge her it though. She was human and there was only so much abuse and rape one could withstand. This was her chance to start over. I would live on in their memory, for my light hadn't had the chance to illuminate anything yet.
She offered her own life instead, asking him to spare us. She knew I could make a way with Nesto somehow. He rejected the offer.
And she stayed.
6 more years of abuse.
When I returned from the depth of the memory, Angelo's eyes were a mirror image of my own. Red with unshed tears. His jaw was clenched, trying to contain the emotion.
"You know for the longest time I wish she had just left." He was running his finger over the horizontal, thin and lightly keloided scar on my neck. He had noticed it but assumed it was the result of a childhood accident.
"I'm glad she didn't." This was accompanied by a kiss to my forehead.
I'm glad she didn't too.
If you asked me to name the quintessential early '00s R&B music video, I would probably give you two options.
Me, Myself and I by the incomparable Beyoncé or the R&B heavyweight champ Ashanti and her iconic video for Foolish. It was something about the 16:9 formatting, the slow-mo shots of the women walking dressed to the nines, the soft fade to black.
Timeless.
Picture the scene.
I was putting the last of my belongings into my duffel. Everything I was taking still fit in the small bag.
Angelo had urgent business to attend to, and fled the scene hours before. I thought it was an excuse to let me vacate the apartment in peace, so after giving a tender goodbye kiss, I got on with it.
I chose a white midi dress, and camel-toned tailored overcoat as the base of my ensemble. My boots were a beige snakeskin and went up to my knee, under the dress. It was staring to get cold already toward the end of August, so the slight layering was warranted.
My sunglasses were over my face and the Uber was outside. I had some money left from my initial deposit, turned cash pot, enough to relocate and start again. I would have to start working immediately but my resume had grown infinitely longer and more valuable. I understood business negotiations and would probably be able to pull a nice starting salary even though I only had my high school diploma.
Unbeknownst to me, Angelo was racing back to me. He had literally had a plane turned around mid air because he had forgotten.
It came to him while he was inspecting a glass of cognac before he downed it. The night before had been tough but necessary. He felt much better for it. The man was on his way to Miami, to quell some sort of turf war that had inferred with a shipment. As he watched the brown liquid swirl around the bottom of the glass, it reminded him of a time he had gotten his little vixen outrageously drunk and had a night of karaoke with her. They were both terrible singers but it was fun.
He thought about how he planned to move forward with the agreement and it came to him. Today was the last day. He almost threw the glass with annoyance at his faux pas. One quick word with the pilot and they were turning back.
Unknowing of this change of plans, I stood in front of the door longer than I'd like to admit. The Uber guy had been sending messages but if he cancelled I would just order another.
Perks of paying in cash.
Finally, I gathered the gumption to open door, only to be confronted with Angelo. He was slightly out of breath, having run a couple of moments before reaching me. He saw the duffel bag in my hand first, and took it from me, throwing it back into the apartment. Next, he took my sunglasses off, to reveal the glossy eyes I wanted to hide. Before I could think to say anything, my arms snaked around his neck, and he hugged me back, picking me up. I wrapped my legs around him as best as I could in the dress I had on and he carried me back into the hallway before I could even ask him what he was doing here. The only sound that could be heard was the door getting kicked shut.
Then he kissed me. It was urgent, both of us fighting for dominance until it dissipated into pecks. Between each one we were trading words. He asked me not to leave him, I promised I wouldn't.
And then the scene faded to black.
And that was chapter 13!
The emotions were running high! There's more at stake now!
I cried writing the escape scene, it made me so sad but now you guys understand why it took Vanessa so long to thaw out. She really wasn't scared at the beginning when he threatened her life.
Malia, was another tear jerker. That's a pain no one should have to go through. Especially not the hands of a liar. Do you think she'll get away for good this time?
What do you think of Angelo's dad, Tony's early demise? Is everything as it seems?
LMK your thoughts. I love to see it!
LOVE YOU LONG TIME - DUCHESS 🤍