Michael called his employees from the first warehouse located miles outside of city limits. A meeting was being held about the next move to allocate the fourth warehouse in a different city an hour away to import more supply of drugs. So much been running low and immediately brought to his attention about the culprit who been stealing from him. Fucking with his money was the worst thing anyone could ever do.
A quarter million dollars went missing two weeks ago. Because of this issue he had to come out of his own pocket to pay the hefty debt as well as his employees who lost out on thousands worth of pay. Michael was wealthy and could show for it if he was a flashy type of man, but one thing he despised most is having to touch his own paper for anything that needed to be reimbursed where his occupation is concerned. He despised a motherfucker who could smile in his face after betraying him in the worst way.
He was the kind of man that made sure his people were good and never wanted for anything. If any of them needed money or whatever the situation was, they had his word and it was his bond. He was loyal to a fault, and in this lifestyle he had to be very cautious of who and where that loyalty went to. Everyone was not built the same.
With the cartel informing him of everything being imported their way, he needed his crew to be alert and aware of their surroundings when picking up, unpacking and stocking inventory. He couldn't afford anyone being busted by the feds, although getting them off wasn't an issue. Slipping up by other dealers and their employees in the surrounding area, yes. His name was powerful—masterful and something that most wanted to obtain. To obtain that power came in innumerable ways effortlessly but one had to have the mindset for such a powerful role.
"Paolo and his new people got everything in motion for us to get what we need, so we can keep the same in and out method. You already know the dos and don'ts and to be alert at all times. I can't afford to have another setback like last time which falls on me. The plane will be here by midnight. Make sure y'all asses there on time.
After that, head over to the fourth warehouse, start unloading and counting for inventory, then report back to me immediately. Make sure Rahj got everything he need for the trap, so this shit can be ready for customers by the end of the week. We good on all this?" Michael asked, looking amongst everyone before his eyes settled upon a particular someone he needed to speak with privately.
"Yes," everyone responded in unison.
"A'ight. Y'all dismissed." He eyed everyone preparing to leave, but stopped them in their tracks before they were out of eyesight. "Snupe, G, wait for me outside. I gotta speak to Rome real quick."
"A'ight" was their only response before they left the two men alone to have a conversation they already knew was about. All thanks went to Snupe for informing Michael of everything after initiating her own investigation. With him spending so much time with Irish, they were always second in command when in his absence. He trusted them more than anyone else to make sure everyone was doing their job as assigned to them. Once they were out of earshot, he remained calm as he stared at Jerome who he told to have a seat again.
"Wassup, Meechie? Everything straight?" Jerome broke the ice between them.
"I don't know." Michael raised his brows and shrugged. "You tell me, Rome? Wassup?" He couldn't believe how bold he was to act as if he had no idea why they were about to have a private conversation. It showed him that Jerome didn't give a single fuck about what he did.
"I don't know what you mean. Where is all this comin' from?"
A cynical laugh was released, and the once calm demeanor faded instantly as he grew pissed beyond measure. He walked over to where Jerome was sitting and invaded his personal space with glaring eyes. "So you just gon' sit yo' ass right here and play me like a motherfuckin' fool, huh? I know you stole from me, Rome. How else my shit been runnin' low for two whole fuckin' weeks? And you know I stand on business 'bout my shit. You playing on my fuckin' dime, nigga."
"Meechie, I swear, man. I ain't do nothin'. I'll never steal from you." Jerome defended himself. "Whatever Snupe told you are lies. C'mon, bruh. You know I don't get down like that; I never did."
Each corner of Michael's lips curved upwardly into a grin and that confused Jerome. He knew of his boss to be a mystery of many things like right now. He figured that maybe he believed him. If only he knew that was far from the truth. His eyes followed Michael who walked away to a safe located not far from where they were. Punching in the code that only he knew, he pulled out a pristine black Beretta M9 that was fully loaded and ready for use. He treaded back to Jerome who watched his every move attentively with the gun resting at his side.
His face now came in close proximity to the front of the barrel. He could see the dark hole where a bullet could come shooting out and into the center of his head at any given second. Jerome was never afraid of anyone even when his life depended on it, but for the very first time he was afraid of what could happen to him by the hands of his own boss. He knew he was wrong and continuing to lie may have him ending in one of two ways: missing or dead. Knowing Michael, he chose the latter.
"You know," he started to say, repositioning the gun to Jerome's mouth, signaling him to open it. "You put your foot in yo' mouth just now. You wasn't 'posed to know or tell me that Snupe told me anything about yo' thieving ass, dumb fuck. And I don't have to tell you shit 'bout what you did and caused the past two weeks 'cause that's dead to me. I handled that. But you..." His head shook in disappointment not caring to finish his sentence anymore. "Fuck it. Tell yo' mama I said hello, motherfucka."
One shot was all it took to have Jerome's eyes in the cadaveric position—pupils dilated. His head fell backwards with his arms dangling at either side of his now lifeless body. Vital fluid began trickling down both sides of his head and dripping onto the floor, creating small puddles that would soon become bigger. Putting away the gun where it safely belonged, Michael made his exit from the warehouse to see Snupe and Guap leaning against Guap's car. They could tell by his emotionless expression that he killed Jerome.
He pulled out the key fob to his Audi and unlocked the doors. "I'm 'bout to go home. Rome's body still in there, so clean up the mess for me before y'all do anything else tonight. And call up Ishmael from the trap and give him the run down about the shipment comin' in tonight. I might have a new position for him soon."
"We on it." Snupe saluted.
Sliding into the driver's seat and pressing the engine start/stop button as his car came to life, he reversed out of the driveway while snapping on his seatbelt before speeding down the road in the light, cold rain. He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, unlocked it and scrolled to the Messages app to find the thread between him and Irish.
Lucky Charm 🍀💚
Today 19:33
I'm omw to the house. You want anything while I'm still out?
19:34
A 12 pc wings from BWW. All flats, mango habanero flavor with fries and a sweet tea please. Thank you. 😙
Fat ass. 😂 But I got you. I'll see you in a lil bit.
Leave me alone 😂 and ok.
Never. 😘
Placing his phone inside the cup holder, he switched the heat on high and turned the FM radio on that was already on the R&B and Rap station playing Migos' "Walk It Talk It". He merged onto the main highway in search of the nearest Buffalo Wild Wings.
_____
The foyer was heavily decorated with family photos on the wall and mahogany and crème antiques. The unit heater was in full effect as it caressed his exposed skin like the softest quilt. Michael made his way through his three story abode with both hands full, carrying the bag of food and tray of soft drinks he purchased for himself and Irish to have for dinner tonight.
For a month and two weeks, they've been inseparable. Their relationship grew with each passing day. Since making it official, Irish sometimes spent the night with him on the weekend which he enjoyed; however, he hated it at the same time. He wanted to be around her and wake up to her gorgeous face everyday. Being able to hold and kiss her on a daily basis would be sensational. Not the type to rush or pressure anyone, he took the weekends for what they were worth. As long as he got to be with her, nothing else mattered.
With her graduation nearing three weeks from today, she had been preparing for her final presentation that may either make or break her. The good news was she made the dean's list on more than one occasion with a grade point average of 3.8. If she were to not recieve a passing grade on her presentation it could drop her overall GPA significantly. Being valedictorian and second at the top of her class could go down the drain, and she came too far to mess it all up.
Adavancing the stairs to the second floor of his bedroom, Michael stood at the entryway eyeing her sitting with her back against the headboard and hair in a messy bun. Her deep saffron eyes were glued to the glowing screen of the MacBook typing away. Her french vanilla cappuccino legs covered in the shea butter she always lather them with crossed at the ankles. Her bare feet were exposed showing off the pedicure he paid for her to get done the other day.
She wore a pink camisole with her nipples poking through its thin material and a pair of black PINK boy shorts he knew for a fact made her ass appear bigger than what it really was. He licked his lips, loving the view in front of him. Simple things as those always did something to him. She made it look sexy without trying.
Approaching her side of the bed, he sat the bagged food and cup holder down on the end table before stealing her attention from what she was doing by using the tip of his forefinger to turn her chin toward him. "'Sup, Pretty Mama." He leaned in and planted a kiss to her lips.
"Hey, babe. I didn't even hear you walk in," she stated with a smile.
"You was focused on yo' shit. It's all good," he assured her, leaning into her face once more for another kiss. "I missed you, though."
"You've only been gone since three. It's a little after eight now."
"And?" He cocked a brow. "I still missed yo' pretty ass." He kissed the side of her neck, making her giggle while shifting her gaze back to the MacBook. Reaching over and opening the plastic bag that contained two large black boxes, he removed the first one which had a sticky note on top with her flavored wings. "I got yo' food." He grabbed the box of mango habanero wings and salted fries, passing it to her.
"Thank you. I'm hungry as hell."
"Then eat, baby. I'ma join you after I take a quick shower."
She nodded and quickly opened the box of wings, picking up a flat and taking a bite out of the sweet and spicy flavored crispy chicken.
The heavenly redolence of mahogany teakwood lingered after him as Michael egressed the en suite minutes later. His hair was damped and curled with a white towel secured around his waist that showed off his six pack and perfect V-shape pelvis. The tattoos on both arms and upper torso glistened from the remnants of water that had yet to evaporate. He went over to the dresser across the room, opening each drawer for a pair of boxer briefs and green and black checkered pajama pants that he immediately put on, then deodorant. He tossed the towel in the hamper near the walk-in closet before walking to his side of the bed and getting comfortable by mirroring Irish's position.
He grabbed the remote control from the end table and powered on the television transitioning from a dark screen to a movie playing on BET. He left it there to watch. He asked her to pass his food and drink that he kindly took from her. Thankfully, when he ordered their food he asked for their wings to be fresh out the fryer, so there was still warmth to them. He didn't feel like walking back downstairs to the kitchen to reheat in the microwave. He opened the box and grabbed a few salted fries to eat first before picking up a Carribean jerk flavored drumstick.
He glanced at the MacBook to see how far along she was in her presentation. He had been helping her and gave her a few good pointers to utilize for certain powerpoint slides pertaining to different topics resulting accounting. She was highly appreciative of the help considering she struggled with ideas on quite a few of them the past week.
"What all you got left, bae?" he asked, making sure that every piece of meat and skin was off the bone he devoured. He placed it inside the box with the rest of the uneaten wings before picking up another one.
"I have two more slides to do which will be my analysis to conclude everything I have so far." She exhaled long and deep. "I'm just ready to get this shit over with and be done."
"You ain't got long."
"I know, but this is drainful. I gotta present this next Wednesday, too."
"And after that, you done," he told her. "You'll be free once and for all. Stop stressing, Mama."
Her lips smacked as she saved her unfinished work to her flash drive and closed out of the powerpoint that brought her to the home screen saved as a photo collage of her during a cheer battle posed in various stunts. She closed the MacBook and slid it onto the end table along with the partially empty box of food. "I guess you're right." She sighed and looked his way. "Anyway, how was your day since you claim to miss me so much?"
"Stop playin' with me." He grinned, then answered her question. "My day was filled with business I had to handle. Nothing too extravagant."
She nodded with a short hum already knowing the type of business he referred to. "Okay. So I have something to run by you, and I'll understand if you don't want to do this. The other one I'm kinda hoping that you agree to, though."
He stopped mid-bite with a skeptical brow arched. "Wassup?"
"Tomorrow is Sunday, and after every church service my family have Sunday dinner. I've told my parents and sister about you; they're ready to meet you; it's time. However, my dad would like to see you at Sunday service. I know you don't attend church often, but it'll be cool if you did come."
"You right. I don't do church at all, but I'll make an exception for you. On the bright side, I get to meet my future wife's family. Gotta make a good first impression."
Hearing him refer to her as his future wife for the first time caused her cheeks to turn crimson with a warm sensation rising inside them and a flutter in her lower abdomen. "Cut it out." She slapped his bare arm with the back of her hand.
"If I was fuckin' around, then I would. I'm being dead ass." He stared into her eyes, and she could vividly see how serious he was about what he said.
"So, you down for tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. "I'll go. I need a li'l church in my life anyway."
Irish threw her head back and guffawed, swinging her legs over and stood from the bed. "I'm not gonna even comment on that."
"Good 'cause I was waiting for yo' ass to say somethin' slick at the mouth." He laughed and she joined him.
She grabbed the plastic bag and put whatever that was trash inside of it. She picked up her box of leftovers and turned to face him. "You almost done?"
"Almost. You can do what you gotta do. I'll just throw my shit away later."
"Alright." She began making her way towards the stairs but halted her steps when she heard her name being called and turned around. "What?"
"Those boy shorts gon' get yo' ass pregnant one day. Keep walkin' around here lookin' like that in front of me," he commented with his eyes lowering to her plump and firm backside, the cuffs of her cheeks peering underneath them.
Rotating her eyes in her head, she voiced in a playful manner, "Whatever."
"Just watch!" he called after her as she descended the stairs.
"I hear ya!"
Moments later, she returned and got comfortable underneath the duvet with her back facing Michael's front whose arm was snaked halfway around her waist as their bodies spooned. He kissed the back of her shoulder before pulling her closer to him if possible. Soon, they fell into a deep slumber.
Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Michael had the urge to empty his bladder. Switching the light off in the bathroom after washing up, he ambled to the bed and slid back into the comforts of it. He looked to the left of him to see that his phone wasn't charging and picked up the device and charger to connect the two. The screen dimly lit up. On the lock screen was a notification from Guap who messaged him two hours ago about the shipment.
Guap
Today 01:10
Shipment went smoothly. We got everything set up and ready to go. Rahj has his portion to start on tomorrow mornin.
Today 03:30
Good.
With that being his only response, he slid his phone onto the table and got close and comfortable to Irish who was sleeping soundlessly. She was now facing him. He took the time to admire her by tracing the curve of his index finger along the side of her face. He kissed her forehead and whispered three words he never thought he would say so soon. He couldn't help the way she made him feel all within a month's time. For the first time ever, he was not ashamed to openly admit his feelings were deep and rapidly growing for her.
"I love you."
_____
Despite the constant stares from elderly women dressed to the nines in their vibrant color church attire and huge umbrella size hats to top it off, Michael actually enjoyed church service. Irvin preached a hearty sermon, and what he loved most was watching Irish and Naima sing "Falling In Love With Jesus". Their voices together was mind-blowing.
He never understood why Irish didn't want to pursue a singing career, but respected the fact she only used her gift for church and minor performances at The Boulevard she frequented. Having insight of the business by working as a talent agent and producer for a few years now, he knew how the industry could chew a person up and spit them out without remorse.
When service was over, Irish rode with him to her parents' home where they all would get together for Sunday dinner. Before going to the kitchen to help her mother and sister, she showed him around the house which was pretty huge and absolutely exquisite with photos of the immediate and extended family plastered all over the walls and antique sideboards. The photos of her when she was younger they joked about. He never ceased to mention how cute she was, and seeing her with her natural auburn hair made her look differently than what he saw in front of him. It was a color he loved for her to sport more often because it was the real her.
Looking at more photos and stumbling across one of a girl eerily identical to Irish, he assumed she was another sister that wasn't present she failed to mention—her twin. He found it fascinating because he was one himself which she knew already. Wrong. It was her maternal first cousin, Isla who she happened to share the same birthday with just like their mothers who shared a birthday. They could pass for identical twins, too from the photos he saw. He thought that tidbit of information was dope but very rare to hear about.
Now sitting in the living room, Michael pulled out his phone to kill time. Having such good senses that came with the territory of being who he was, his eyes diverted from the screen to Irvin whose greenish-gray eyes were already on him. He could tell right out the gate that he didn't like him, and for Michael, that was fine. He didn't take a liking to every person he met either other than Naima and Chauncey who were very welcoming. Irvin gave him the cold shoulder since that morning but was never paid any mind. Today was going to be quite interesting.
"You good?" Michael cocked a brow at him, sitting with his legs open.
"I'll be good once you tell me why an older man like you courting my twenty-three year old daughter?"
"Your twenty-three year old daughter is an adult, sir. I don't think that should even be a question who she date and the age difference. As long as she's bein' treated well, nothin' else should matter. I make sure she is taken care of; she's in good hands."
"Good hands?" he scoffed. "It's niggas like you thay prey on younger girls like Irish. Y'all just want some young pussy and someone to manipulate and control. I know your kind." He pointed accusingly at Michael.
A low chuckle emitted within Michael's larynx who shook his head. He was not surprised at all by such an assumption, especially from a pastor. Leaning forward, he prodded his elbows into his knees, holding his phone in one hand. "You got that. I'm not 'bout to disrespect you in yo' house. Just know it takes one to know my kind."
With glaring eyes, Irvin had a comeback ready until Irish walked in on their semi-heated conversation with a smile plastered on her face. She was unaware of the brewing tension between them. Immediately, Irvin corrected the look on his face as Michael shook his head once more before pushing himself off the sofa.
"Food's ready!" she announced, looking between her father and Michael who had this certain look on his face. She immediately grew concerned. "Everything okay, baby?"
Approaching her and reaching for one of her hands to hold, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it's smoothness as a way to assure her. "Yeah. Let's go eat."
_____
Irish volunteered to bless the food before dishes passed around and silverware clanked throughout the silence of the room.
"So, Michael," Chauncey was the first to speak by asking a question, "where are you from, baby? Who your people are?"
"I'm from this city—born and bred," he answered, taking the dish of sweet peas from Irish to scoop a spoonful for himself, then proceeded. "But I live 'bout half an hour away now. As for my people, my parents are Mitena and Terrance Jackson."
"Mitena..." she repeated the familiar name quietly to herself. "Is she the one that own Tena's Bakery and Cafè down on 35th Street?"
"Yes, ma'am. That's her; that's my mama."
"Yes, indeed!" She grinned. "I know Ms. Tena! Very sweet and kind-hearted woman. She baked some pies for our Family and Friends Day event last year. What a small world."
"Yeah." Michael chuckled, placing a spoonful of baked macaroni and cheese on his plate. "She had that place for a good li'l minute now. Said she wanted to utilize her baking skills on a business level, so I made it happen for her."
"That's amazing, Michael! Really. Your mother should be very proud to have a son like you."
"Well, I ain't one to brag, but I do my best. She deserve it." He smiled.
"Honey, it's okay to brag about what you do for your mama. Most kids these days couldn't care less to even go that far for their mamas. Ain't that right, Irvin?"
"It's not good to brag. People who brag about anything do have a tendency of losing a lot behind it."
Chauncey looked at her husband as if he was crazy. The rudeness he excuded upsetted her. "Really, Irvin?"
"Just telling the truth. I'm sure Michael here understand."
Michael looked at him out the corner of his eye but remained hush. Irvin's demeanor was beginning to piss him off, but for the sake of Irish, her sister and mother he kept his remarks to himself... Or at least he tried to.
"Please excuse my husband, Michael. He tends to have his moments." She rolled her eyes at Irvin who disregarded her apology.
"It's all good, Mrs. Dunomes." He smiled reassuringly.
She returned his smile and said, "Just call me Chauncey, baby."
"I got you."
More questions were asked from Chauncey and even from Naima who shared a mutual friend that worked at 2 Lyve Records with him. They talked about music and how she thought about becoming a songwriter. Michael was very much intrigued and told her that they would speak more about her pursuit later and to be shown some of the songs she wrote.
Dinner was going smoothly and filled with good conversation and laughter aside from Irvin who seemed to be in a bad mood for no reason the entire time. He barely engaged in conversation. If he did, it was some form of negativity that resulted him being reprimanded for his impertinence.
Irish was fed up with her father; she knew how he was. She disapproved the way he behaved towards someone she cared about. She would reach for Michael's hand to hold and apologize on his behalf. Michael would say "it's cool" knowing good and well that it isn't. He only said it to keep the peace and be respectful in another man's home. But when she thought her father's behavior throughout dinner was enough to have everyone highly upset, what was said next done it for not only her but for Michael as well.
"What do they call you on the street, Michael? I mean, I know you're doing something illegal that could jeopardize your life."
Kissing his teeth, Michael leaned forward and rest his intertwined fingers on the table in front of him. Whichever direction this would go, so be it. He allowed Irvin to slide on more than one occasion. "Meechie is my name. Yeah, I'ma drug dealer, and I've been in the game for a while now. It's helped me financially even though it's illegal money, but I do plan to get out of it.
However, despite my occupation, I care about Irish too much to subject her to anything that I do. I make sure she's as far away from that part of my life as possible. I'm tryna build with and have a future with her and so much more. Your daughter means a great deal to me. I'll never let anything happen to her. It'll be over my dead body if anybody ever cross her, and I put that on everything. Now, are you satisfied?"
Silence lingered in the air briefly until Irvin replied with a monotone, "No."
"Irvin," Chauncey inserted herself into the conversation, "does it really matter? Our baby is happy. I may not approve of Michael's lifestyle, but I'm not gonna judge him either. He cares about Irish, and that's all that matters to me; her happiness. He's giving her that."
"Yeah, Daddy," Irish agreed with her mother with glaring eyes. "He cares about me and makes me happy. I've witnessed you since this morning be rude to him like he's nobody. Then you still continue to be rude and making slick remarks about him. With all due respect, I don't appreciate it. I brought him here 'cause you and mama wanted to meet him, but when he gets here and not up to the standards you were expecting, your demeanor changes. I've been with this man for a little over a month now, and I don't plan on letting him go. He treats me well and respects me, and most importantly, I am happy."
"You're not happy," he asserted. "You'll never be happy. You're becoming just like the rest of these young girls who get with an older man blindsided. People like him manipulate young women like you; control, abuse and cheat on you. It's only good in the beginning because that's how they approach you with this fake persona as if they are good men when in fact they aren't. Once he get what he wants from you, you're disposable. He's the type to cheat, impregnate and leave you heartbroken anyway. He'll be with the next woman after he throws you away. But you are my child, and I don't approve of you being with someone like him. Take it or leave it, Irish."
She couldn't lie and say a part of her felt an inkling of doubt at her father's words. She had been cheated on multiple times and used by her ex-boyfriend. Although so young, their relationship was real. At least to her it was at the time. From the feelings and toxicity to the sex she was in love despite so much she endured without much knowledge and experience that she now have if only a little bit. She knew what heartbreak felt like from ages eighteen through twenty-one. But to have a man that showed her differently all within a month's time made those doubts disperse.
Sure Michael could have any woman he wanted; he knew that; she knew that; everyone knew that. He was a woman magnet. Irish wasn't the finest thing on the planet either, and there were far much more beautiful women than her. None of that mattered because he chose who he wanted to be with and doesn't desire to ever play with her heart nor dispose her for the next woman. She was everything in his eyes. She was his, and he meant it.
"I'm not leaving Michael just 'cause you disapprove of our relationship. You're being real judgmental right now, and it makes me not even wanna be here."
"Then leave!" he interjected with flared nostrils.
She shook her head in disbelief at her father's behavior. She knew of his overprotective ways, but to dictate who she can and cannot be with as an adult was extremely overbearing. If anything, their relationship didn't need anyone's validation but their own. All she wanted was to introduce the man in her life to her family, and she regretted it.
Michael pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. He had enough and signaled Irish to do the same. "Baby, go pack some clothes. You stayin' with me for the rest of the week." He leaned over, kissing her temple. "Go on; go get yo' stuff."
With a simple "okay", she egressed the dining room to her bedroom located on the second floor. Irvin made a remark about her doing as Michael said as if he owned her and that pissed him off to the point he held back his response until he got to him last. Michael looked between Naima and Chauncey with a genuine smile stretched from one end to the other of his chiseled face. "It was really nice meeting you, Ms. Chauncey; Naima. Thank you for yo' hospitality and dinner. I 'preciate it."
"It was nice meeting you, too, baby. You're welcomed here anytime. Don't mind my husband," she told him with a dismissive hand wave, and he smiled at her.
"Naima." He turned to her. "I'ma get with you on those songs soon, a'ight? We gon' see what you working with and go from there."
"Sounds good to me," came her response and a smile with her chin resting in the palm of her hand.
Turning towards Irvin, a smirk made its way onto his face. "Mr. Dunomes, I really ain't got shit to say to you besides the fact if it wasn't for yo' wife and daughters, I would've been put my hands on you. But outta respect for them, I won't. I let yo' li'l remarks slide. At this point, you lost all respect from me. For you to assume shit about and accuse me of potentially cheating on Irish without knowin' who I am is messed up. What kinda pastor pass judgment but preach about it every Sunday to a congregation? False prophets like you. Then you talkin' to Irish like she's a child and not a grown ass woman with sense. I ain't feelin' that."
Irvin pounded his fist onto the beige marble table. "Nigga, who the fuck you think you talking to?! Huh?! I'll lay your ass out right now! I don't care about you being some big time drug dealer!"
Michael didn't even waste his breath with a response. Instead, he laughed in the older man's face, and that only pissed Irvin off further. Not even a single care was given.
"Irvin, calm down!" Chauncey's voice rose at her husband. She stood from her seat and looked toward Naima. "Please take Michael outside until your sister finish upstairs."
Doing as she were told, Naima and Michael left from the dining room and found themselves outside, standing near his Audi SUV. "I'm sorry about my dad, Michael," she apologized, gaining his attention. "He can be a bit of an asshole most times."
"I ain't trippin'. I just wasn't finna tolerate him judging me and talkin' shit to Irie like that. Father or not, I ain't playing behind that one." Naima tilted her head with a knowing grin on her visage. This made Michael brows narrow out of curiosity. "What?"
"You love my sister, don't you?"
"Is it that obvious?" She nodded and he licked his lips. "Yeah, I love her. She my baby, and I care a lot 'bout her."
"I can tell. You really make her happy, so whatever my dad is saying continue ignoring it. You seem like really good people. If my sister's happy, then that's all that matters to me. With that being said, welcome to the family." Her arms opened wide for a hug that he didn't hesitate to reciprocate. Her kind words deeply touched him.
"'Preciate it, Naima."
Right on cue of them pulling away from each other, Irish approached them with a Nike duffle bag in tow. The gentleman in him didn't allow her to carry it as he met her halfway and relieved her of its weight. "Thanks. You ready to go now? I don't wanna be here longer than I have to. He just pissed me off before I even walked out here."
"Yeah." He unlocked the doors with the key fob. "Go 'head and get in."
Irish turned to her sister and the two embraced, bidding each other see you later, meanwhile, Michael tossed her duffle bag in the backseat. Opening the door to the driver's side, he turned to Naima and bid her goodbye before stepping into the vehicle and starting its engine. Naima waved and Michael honked the horn as he slowly cruised out of the driveway, then sped down the road.
_____
Walking through the double doors, Irish was ahead of Michael, ascending the spiral staircase leading to his master bedroom. He tossed her duffle bag on the storage bench at the foot of the bed. She had been quiet the entire car ride, and he knew it was because of what transpired at her parents'. She slipped her feet out of the baby blue PINK slides before heading in the direction of the bathroom.
Michael grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "You good?"
Nodding, she said, "Just thinking about something."
He pulled her along with him to the bed where he sat down on the edge of it and her sitting across his lap. One hand rested on her hip while the other loosely snaked her waist. "Talk to me. Tell me what's on yo' mind?"
She glanced down at her fingers fiddling before her eyes met his hickory ones staring back at her patiently. "I'm fed the fuck up with Irvin. You don't understand how much this man has dictated my and Nana's life since we were kids. It's like no matter how old we get, we're still told what to do and what not to do, and I'm fucking fed up. Before we left, we had an argument, and I told him that I was moving out; I meant it." She sighed. "We've only been together for a month or so, and I'm not ready to move in with you just yet. I'm gonna stay with Vena 'til I can find my own spot. I hope you're okay with that."
His brows narrowed along with his head jerking back. "Irie, it's all good; I understand. I wouldn't even pressure you into movin' in with me if you wasn't ready for that. It'll happen with time. As for you moving in with yo' homegirl, do what you gotta do. I'll help you find a place. You know I got you, right?"
"Yeah," she responded in a hushed tone, "I know."
"A'ight then. Gimme a kiss." With their faces being in such close proximity, Irish sealed her lips with his as their smacking filled up the silence.
About an hour or so, she dosed off to sleep leaving Michael as the only one awake. He was glad that she was because it gave him the opportunity to make a quick phone call. On the first floor of his bedroom he sat on the loveseat with his feet propped up on the glass table. He found the contact he was looking for in his recent call log. Four rings later, the line picked up.
"Hey, bro!" his sister's buttery, feminine, and husky voice soothed his ear.
"'Sup, Chonne. How's everybody?"
"We're good. The kids are outside playin' and Dre just left for a pool game party. How are you?"
"Nigga stay at a damn pool game function, I swear." They shared a laugh. "But I'm good. Happier these days; I can't complain."
"I know the tone of that voice. You only happy unless you got some bomb ass pussy or you made more money. Which one is it or it's both?"
"It's both," he confirmed, chuckling. "But the only bomb ass pussy I got ain't come from no random ass female."
"Wait! You with somebody? A relationship?"
"Yeah, I am," he divulged a little. "She's everything, too."
"And you ain't call to tell me, you black fucka? I thought we was tight like that? You 'posed to be my twin. We shared the womb together, so that means we share everything together."
"Shut that shit up. You and mama gon' meet her soon. But that ain't the reason why I called you. I need a favor."
She slipped out a groan. "You agg for real. And what favor you talkin' 'bout?"
"I need you to look into those new luxury apartments that's a couple of miles from you. See how much they runnin' for monthly. I'm finna get one for my ol' lady. She graduatin' college in a couple of weeks, and I wanna surprise her with a li'l somethin' she can call her own. And I'd like for you to do the decor and shit 'cause you know how to make that shit look tight. Think you can do that for me at short notice?" he asked, awaiting an answer he knew would satisfy his ears. No matter what it was, Michonne always made it happen for her brother as he did for her. Anything Michael needed her to do there was never hesitation in her actions; she was on it. From the way he seemed to be really into whomever he was with to want to go all out his way, renting an apartment must be deserving of this favor.
"I can do that, yeah, but when I see you I wanna know more about this mystery woman in yo' life."
He licked his lips and laughed a little. "A'ight, Chonne. We gon' talk."
"I'm holdin' you to that shit, too. I love you, bro."
"Love you, too, sis." Their call ended with him removing his feet off the table and standing. He made his way back to the main room upstairs and got comfortable next to Irish who continued peacefully resting. He admired her prepossessing features before reaching for the remote control on the end table and switching on the television. Searching through the TV guide, he settled for rerun episodes of The Fresh Prince of Belair.
_____
It was day three of Irish staying with Michael for the week and the day of her presentation. She made sure to dress up to par in a business casual attire that he complimented her numerous times that morning. By the end of her powerpoint, she was secretly informed by her professor she passed by giving a stellar presentation, covering all the bases of her future career. That meant everything she worked hard remained the same, and she would be walking across the stage as valedictorian at top of her class with magna cum laude honors. She was officially done and could now enjoy her freedom once and for all.
A text was sent to Vena to meet her at Starbucks. When she arrived, the pair ordered caramel brûlée and chestnut praline lattes with warmed butter croissants before finding a table to sit and engage in conversation. Irish caught Vena up on what transpired Sunday afternoon, and she was shocked to hear how her father behaved toward Michael.
"He really has an issue with you being with someone like Meechie? The last time I checked, you was a grown ass woman."
"My point exactly, Vee. He don't care about none of that shit. It's always been that way. Besides, I'm moving out. I can't keep dealing with that shit no more. I got through school like he forced me to since I was on his li'l payment plan. Now, he can just get off my fucking back and let me breathe."
"Are you moving in with Meechie?" Vena arched a brow with her inquiry.
Irish finished the rest of her croissant before speaking again. "No. I'm not ready to move in with him yet. We already had a conversation about that, and he understands it's too soon. However, he's gonna help me find a place. In the meantime, I was hoping if I could stay with you until then?"
"Girl, you know you're welcomed to my home anytime. Of course, you can stay. It's good to know Meechie respects your decision. Most niggas trip over shit like that to prove your loyalty to them."
"True, but he isn't like that," she voiced, then exhaled softly. "Girl, sometimes I think he's too good to be true; he's too perfect. Despite how hardcore he is, he's a gentleman, sweet and caters to me. I don't have to want for anything. Like, he got that shit handled. He's romantic and takes me out on these adventurous dates. He's laidback most of the time but very outgoing when it's just us two. About a week ago, we went skydiving. Skydiving, Vee! I never done anything like that before." She sighed again with a dreamy look on her visage. "I really do love him. I feel it everytime I'm with him or talking about him. Like, my feelings are deep. He really does mean a lot to me."
Vena smirked. "Lemme find out you falling in love with a thug."
Irish girlishly giggled. "I'm not in love yet, but it'll get there someday."
"Shit," she drawled. "The way you describing Meechie and all the shit he does for you, your ass will be in love before you know it and him, too."
"Whatever." She waved dismissively and laughed. It got interrupted when a random Afro-Korean woman approached their table. She looked to be around her mid to late twenties, sporting burgundy and black ombré box braids, a sleeveless gray bodycon shorts jumpsuit showcasing all of her body ink with a pair of gray Air Jordan 11's. She was very attractive—a pretty face with blemish free café au lait skin.
"Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt y'all li'l conversation, but uh, I overheard you two mentioning someone by the name Meechie? Y'all know him personally?"
Vena looked at Irish skeptically who looked back at her with the same expression. They both raised a single brow at the unknown woman.
"Yeah, I'm his girlfriend," Irish made her relation to him known. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, you can. I've been tryna contact him for an entire month, but now I know why he hasn't been returning any of my calls or messages. When you get the chance, tell him that Jonnise asked for him. We got unfinished business to handle." With that said, she walked off, sashaying her hips while leaving behind a familiar scent of Bath & Body Works products.
"She was bold as fuck coming over here with that," said Vena.
Irish looked across the table at her; she was pissed. Her entire demeanor instantly changed. To have another woman that Michael dealt with approach her about "unfinished business" had her mind going crazy with irrational thoughts. It all brought her back to moments ago when she stated how it all seemed to good to be true. Maybe it was. Maybe her father was right. Instead of giving Vena a response, she pulled out her phone, plugged in her password and went straight to the Messages app.
Baby 😘💞
Today 1:22 PM
Who tf is Jonnise?
1:25 PM
🤦🏽♂️ a hoe I used to fw who's not important. We'll talk about this when I get home. I'm in the middle of handling business rn.
Nah, we ain't gotta talk. We good on that shit. Obviously, you got a lot of talking to do with Jonnise. I'm packing my shit and going to Vena's.
1:27 PM
You not going nowhere. We gon talk about this like I said.
✌🏽
_____
Michael was able to catch Irish at home packing her bag. She was dead serious about leaving, but he refused to watch her leave because of someone from his past. She was blowing the entire situation out of proportion without letting him explain. That in itself caused him to get upset.
"Irie, you just gon' ignore me when I'm tryna explain shit to you? You just gon' leave me like this?" She continued ignoring him, throwing her items into the bag with an attitude that halted by the feeling of his hands enclosed around her wrists. He stood behind her with the front of his body pressed to her back. "Chill the fuck out and talk to me." He let go of her as she turned around and faced him with her golden orbs glaring into the depths of his soul.
"You've been fuckin' around behind my back all this time? And be honest, Michael, 'cause I don't got time for no damn lies. It's bad enough that bitch approached me on some shit about you and her having unfinished business. What the hell does that even mean? What you got going on with her?" She shoved his chest.
Never breaking eye contact with her, he gave her the truth she wanted to know and hear. "Jonnise was a hoe I used to fucked with to get my dick wet from time to time before I ever met you. She's nobody important. Yeah, she contacted me a while ago because I reached out to her first, but I didn't respond back. Me and you wasn't serious at the time. As for unfinished business, she just talking mad shit. We never had any business to finish. Hear me out when I say she's just a hoe I was fuckin' on before you. All I want is you, Irish. I'm not playin' no games 'bout you, bae. I promise I never fucked around on you since we've been together, and I don't plan on to in the future either."
She said nothing.
Her gaze averted from his until she felt her chin turning by his curled forefinger and thumb and eyes connecting to those deep brown pools of his again. His face drew near hers as the tip of their noses touched, then their lips. She didn't reciprocate the action, though.
"Stop bein' like that, Irie," he spoke against her mouth, "kiss me back."
After a few seconds of stalling, she reciprocated by wrapping her arms around his neck, and that allowed him to travel the palm of his hands over her ass and give it a squeeze. The kiss alone led to him having his face buried deep between her thighs, licking, slurping, biting, pulling, flickering and sucking her pussy like a newborn being breastfed. All throughout the afternoon, her moans and whimpers filled the air like music as he pleasured her orally with no breaks until she released the most intense orgasm.
_____
Graduation couldn't have came sooner.
Michael gave Irish his Amex card to shop and get all the necessities she needed for her big day. He made sure she was pampered and that alone was satisfaction for him. He loved a woman who kept up with a mani/pedi, and Irish fit the mold perfectly basking in her soft girl energy. The only thing he needed to do was purchase a few gifts to surprise her with. She was in store for a much greater one later that day.
The commencement ceremony of Virginia A & M University fall graduates would begin at 2 PM, and Michael made sure to be there on time like he promised. In regards to her father being there, he made the adult decision to be civil. If Irvin said anything out of line, he was not holding back his tongue.
Michael was dressed to the nines in a tan Burberry patchwork checkered jacket, a black collared shirt, slim fitted black cargo jeans and a pair of Burberry shoes that matched his top. A platinum chain was hidden behind the collar but still could be seen. Two platinum rings accessorized his index and pinky fingers on his right hand and a ring on his left pinky finger. A platinum Cartier watch donned his left wrist. His hair was sleeked back into a low, curly ponytail showing off his pierced ears and left inner ear tattoo that said GOD FEARING in small uppercase letters. He held a money bouquet of white roses in one hand while texting with the other.
The auditorium was packed with family and friends who came out to support their respective graduate(s). He was in search for Irish and her family but remembered the text she sent him fifteen minutes ago about being near the entrance of row three. It didn't take much to find her and not alone either. His eyes were glued to her like dry cement and not because she looked ravishing, but because of the guy she was smiling and giggling with as they held hands like one happy ass couple.
Something about that image rubbed him the wrong way, so he approached them vividly hearing the unknown guy mention "I'm gonna really miss seeing you in class and cheer". Not caring how rude he came off, he hid the bouquet behind his back and pressed his front against her backside, then removed her hands from the other guy's hand. Irish recognized the familiar redolence to know that it was Michael.
"Wassup." He jutted his chin at the guy, pulling Irish much closer to him even though it was humanly impossible. Whatever space was left between them vanished.
"Wassup," he greeted Michael, then gave Irish his attention again. "I'm gonna go find Cam and us a seat. Congratulations again, beautiful."
"Thank you, Terrell!" She beamed. "I appreciate it!"
Leaving the couple alone, Irish turned around and faced Michael who was cheesing from ear to ear. She noticed his hand was behind his back hiding something. She was on the verge of scolding him but put it on hold to let her eyes scan over him thoroughly. He looked so fine in his Burberry fit, platinum accessories and sleeked back ponytail. If she could, she would have fucked him right then and there but decided that could be saved for later considering today was a special occasion to do so. She couldn't wait until they got back to his place.
"Like what you see?" he asked her in an arrogant tone, interrupting her thoughts.
Disregarding his question, she grew serious. "What the hell was that about when Terrell and I was talking?"
Michael's lips smacked along with his eyes rolling. "Exactly what it was. It don't take allat to say congratulations. The fuck he gotta hold yo' hands for? Looks like to me yo' boy, Terrell gotta thing for you. 'I'm gonna really miss seeing you in class and cheer'."
"Michael, he's just one of my classmates and cheer mates. We aren't close close friends. We're just cool, and he was cool to be around on the team. That's it," she explained.
"Yeah, whatever," he dismissed, pulling his tongue ring between his teeth, then releasing it. "I know when a motherfucka tryna holla."
"Okay, Meechie. Drop it." Her tone changed drastically, and he caught it.
"Look, I'm not tryna ruin yo' day, baby. Walking up on y'all holdin' hands just rubbed me the wrong way. I trust you; it's these niggas I don't trust."
Slightly standing on her toes in her heels, she brought her hands to his perfectly sculpted face and brought his down to hers to peck his lips. Even in heels his height still surpassed her significantly. "You're so cute when you're jealous."
He tittered, pecking her lips once more. "Yeah, yeah." He pulled out the bouquet from behind his back. "I got you a few hundreds and white roses. This is the first surprise, but later on I got some more and somethin' else that will top everything I ever got you."
"Thank you." She was curious to know what he had in store for her yet, decided not to ask anything pertaining it.
_____
The commencement ceremony started exactly at two with an eruption of deafening cheers filling the entire auditorium when the graduates walked out in alphabetical order and by major. When Irish gave her valedictorian speech, she took Michael by surprise when his name was mentioned as one of the many people who helped tremendously with her last few weeks as a college student. The little things did matter. The ceremony proceeded to the receiving of degrees, and when it was Irish's turn, her family, Vena and Michael showed out for her.
"With a Bachelor of Accountancy, Irish Xiamora Dunomes."
Michael captured her proudest moment on video, and she turned toward and waved at them. Once everyone received their degrees and returned to their seats, the turning of the tassles and announcement of the graduating class concluded the ceremony. Pacific blue caps were thrown in the air, closing the final chapter of college for Irish forever.
Outside the auditorium, pictures were taken of Irish and her family, Michael and Vena, and a few of her classmates and cheer team members. Riding with him along the highway, they traveled downtown to an exquisite restaurant and Michael treated everyone to dinner. He almost came close to not paying for Irvin but done it anyway as a way of being cordial even though he didn't deserve to eat off his dime. Their time there was well spent over the course of an hour until everyone parted ways after exchanging hugs and kisses.
It was still somewhat daytime—sometime around six that evening—as they traveled the busy highway again. Irish knew the directions to Michael's house and realized they weren't headed there at all. Her brows narrowed confusingly as she looked over at him bobbing his head and rapping along to Camp Lo's "Luchini (This Is It)".
"Baby, where are we going?"
He glanced her way, biting his lower lip, then flashed his mega watt smile. "You finna see in a li'l bit."
A "little bit" was ten minutes when they pulled into a luxurious apartment complex that Irish knew rent cost a monthly fortune. The place was nearly vacant with only a couple of cars parked here and there; it was brand new.
"You got an apartment?" she inquired. He already had a house, so an apartment wasn't necessary to have. But who was she to question her man with multiple accounts full of money?
"Somethin' like that," he said distractedly, opening the middle console and pulling out a white bandana. "I'm gonna blindfold you real quick." He closed the console.
She couldn't contain her smile anxious to know what he had up his sleeve. With his assistance, he helped her out of the car and held her bouquet under his arm by the stems. He would tell her to watch her step every few seconds. Finally, they stopped in front of the apartment door where her surprise awaited behind it.
He pulled out the key to unlock it. He held the door open for her to enter the dark space before switching on the lights illuminating the entire place decorated to her taste and countless gifts from Prada, Versace, GUCCI, Burberry, Tiffany's & Co., Dolce & Gabbana, Dior, Chanel, Alexander McQueen, Thierry Mugler, Louis Vuitton, Lorraine Schwartz, and Yves Saint Laurent in the living area. A banner matching her alma mater colors was made with Congratulations Grad! Welcome Home! on it.
Michael went and stood behind her, placing his hands on her hips. "You ready, bae?" he asked near her ear, his warm breath brushing against it.
She nodded and felt his fingers untying the bandana that concealed her vision. She gaped at the sight before her as her hands gone to cover her mouth. She was at loss for words.
He smiled proudly at the fact he made her day with his final surprise. His muscly arms enclosed around her slim frame, gently rocking their bodies while planting a wet kiss on the side of her neck. "I had my sister come decorate the place for you. I hope you like it." He kissed the same spot on her neck again.
"I love it!" she squealed. "Oh, my God! I can't believe you did this, baby! I'm speechless right now! I—I don't know what to say!"
He turned her around to see her eyes welling up. A single teardrop trickled down her cheek, then another one. He used the curve of his index finger not to ruin her makeup to dab away the wet line. "You ain't gotta say nothing 'cause yo' reaction says enough. But I do want you to know somethin', though..."
His eyes were so intense as she stared into them. For the first time, she sensed something different about them; him. Something changed but more so in a positive way. It was passionate and profound. It was if he... "I love you, and I'm crazy about you. You mean a lot to me, Irie, and I'm so proud of what you've accomplished and where those accomplishments gon' take you in the future. Most importantly, I'm proud to call you mine. Congratulations, baby."
Just when she thought the tears would stop, they came flooding back. "I love you, too, babe," she confessed. "Thank you for this—for everything." She kissed him as they both tasted the saltiness of her tears.
Irish skipped over opening gifts because for one, they weren't really that important; and two, she wanted Michael to make love to her. It was all she cared about. This time they went without the prophylactic since she was prescribed contraceptives to prevent the unwanted.
From missionary, sideways, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, backshots to standing, Michael held Irish securely in his arms with her back pressed firmly against the teal wall of the bedroom. Her legs were wrapped around his waist as he penetrated her with deep, long strokes. Low grunts trembled within his throat, and her fingers were entangled in his now sweated out curls that stuck to his skin like glue.
Every thrust caused for a moan, whine, whimper and mewl. The feeling of his teeth pulling at her lower lip before sucking it into his mouth made him withdraw a hand and slap her ass. Hungrily, he feasted the flesh of her neck, leaving a bruise; his claim stake.
"I fuckin' love you..."
"I love you—mmm—too," she said breathlessly. "So much. I love you so fucking much, baby."
"Fuck!" he exclaimed, closing his eyes momentarily, then reopened them. "You feel so good raw. Shit." That skin to skin contact had him going insane in the membrane.
"This pussy is all yours, Daddy," she mewled. "Nobody owns this pussy but you."
"It's mine?" He slowed his strokes feeling himself about to cum.
"Yes, it's yours."
"You gon' be my wife?" he asked, releasing a groan afterwards. She yelped, feeling his tip hit a spot she never knew existed. "Words, Irie."
"Yes, yes, yes. I'll be your wife. I'll be anything you want me to be." She felt him repeatedly hit that special spot, making her cum on his dick. "Fuck yes." Her left eyebrow twitched, and the look on her face appeared as is she was about to cry.
"Ooh, shit," they moaned simultaneously but in different tones.
"There you go." He smacked her ass. "Cum on that dick." Irish screamed, riding out her orgasm as he continued stroking and hitting that same spot over and over and over again until she came again seconds later. He held the back of her head gingerly and relaxed his face in the crook of her neck where he kissed her. She cried out to him and tightened her arms around his neck with a single hand fisting his coal curls. "I know, Mama." He kissed her neck. "I know."
Michael managed to keep himself inside her while carrying her to the bed and laying her down on her back. He made sure her lower body dangled off the edge for better access to thrust. His arms were used to pin her legs down and knees touching her chest. She was locked in with no escape. He started to thrust, and when he picked up speed it transitioned to hard penetration. It caused those thunderous claps from their bodies connecting and the queefing of Irish's pussy until they climaxed.