Page 11 of Saint Baptiste 2

When I pulled my hood off and lowered my mask he shut the fuck up. All three of them did. That wasn’t a part of the plan. I was supposed to be in and out. Was supposed to get close enough, shoot, and walk away. But… I had to show ‘em. I needed them to see me. Wanted them to feel me. Remember? Would it count when that very memory would be on the ground with the rest of their memories, at the end of all this shit? Nah, not really. But it wasn’t about them remembering. It was about them feeling me.

Probably should have stuck to the plan. If I would have, it wouldn’t have given one of them time to run off. Fuck it. He could run. Before the other two could run off, I upped, aimed and pulled the trigger. One at a time. One in each head. The precision was immaculate. Before their bodies could hit the pavement, I was on the other nigga. He was busy, fumbling through his pocket for keys he wouldn’t find because my nigga, Greg, swiped ‘em for me. Pandora’s was my shit, remember? Technically it was Em’s, but it was just as much as mine as it was hers.

He stumbled.

Yelled for help. No one would answer. We were in midtown Detroit, at three in the fucking morning. It was decent out this way, but niggas minded their fuckin’ business. No one would save him. He knew that. Niggas just… when shit got wicked, and death was on ‘em they got desperate.

I upped blick, pulled, and shot him in the back. Because he wasted my time, I decided, fuck it… I’ll play with em a little bit. I shouldn’t have. I really, truly should have stuck to the plan. But I didn’t like this nigga. Hated him most. He was the one who talked about how he should have taken it. And that shit… it really pissed me off. Hearing them talk, listening to them disrespect her… it did something to me. Fucked me up. Did something to my brain chemistry. Made me forget who I was. Made me forget the risk.

I slowed my pace. I didn’t see a need to rush. I could?—

Blah!

Before I could get to him, there a single gunshot was fired that stopped me in my tracks.

CHAPTER 3

NAOKI

I woke up with an excruciating headache.

The minute I opened my eyes, I shut them.

I forgot to close the drapes and the sun was shining extra bright directly into my bedroom. That would have been beautiful to wake up to if I didn’t have a got damn hangover. Shit. How much did I drink? What did I drink? I ran my hands over my bed, searching for my phone. Bumped into everything but it. Where was my purse? How did I get... oh.

I remembered. I remembered everything. Suddenly, I stopped searching and just laid there with my eyes closed and thought about last night. Last night was…

Shit, last night was a lot of things. A wild ass rollercoaster ride would describe it best. My thoughts drifted. Far off. Too far off. Coasted over to the moments that led up to me calling him. But then I drifted again, decided it was best to stay on the other side of things. It was best to think more about what happened after he ‘saw me’.

Those moments were beautiful.

I stared at my ceiling and brushed a hand over my nipple. Left it there and felt it harden as I thought more about just how beautiful last night was. As crazy as it started, that’s what it was. Beautiful. It went absolutely nothing like I thought it would. Saint did what only Saint could do— made me feel. But last night was different. He made me feel in ways he’d never made me feel before. Last night wasn’t just beautiful it was… mystical.

I closed my eyes and bent my knees before turning over on my side. So got damn mystical that when I woke up in his bed alone, I had to leave. Not because I felt he had abandoned me but because last night was only mystical for that moment. Shit like that didn’t happen between us. It wouldn’t last. Today we would be greeted with reality. We were fucking chaos. The things that lead us to beauty was proof of that. That was why last night, when we spoke about sunrise, we weren’t just talking about the moment ending—we were talking about everything.

The ringing of my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. I groaned and rolled out of bed. Squinting, I followed the sound of my ringing phone. I found my purse first. It was sitting in the chair over by the balcony doors. Before I picked it up, I snatched the drapes closed. The sun wanted attention today, didn’t she? Got damn. The phone stopped ringing before I could get to it. Which ended up being a good thing because it was Sage. Seeing her name sent a whirlwind of emotions rushing through me.

I just stood there, phone in hand, staring at Sage’s name, with yesterday weighing heavy on my shoulders. All I could see was that fucking lady... standing next to the bed he laid in, rubbing his head. Soothing him. Where was she when I needed her? When I needed soothing? How come she was his emergency contact? But Sienna was mine?

I was defeated. I didn’t have any more fight left in me. I couldn’t be strong anymore. Yesterday did me the fuck in. I didn’t know what type of vendetta God had against me but whatever it was, I didn’t deserve it. It felt like I was being punished. Every time I thought I’d gotten ahead, He hit me with something else. But yesterday? Yesterday he hit me with a TKO. A blow that literally knocked the wind out of me. I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand what I’d done to deserve that.

That was just downright cruel.

“Fuck!” I yelled.

My phone rang again and scared the hell out of me. I flinched so hard I almost dropped it. I brushed my hand down the back of my head with a sigh and looked down at it. This time it was Sienna. I let it ring. Right after, a text came through.

Bestie: What is NeNe talking about?

A wave of terror washed over me. Was Mahogany there last night? Another text message came through.

Bestie: You called her crying about that damn invitation?

And then another. Instead of reading it, I just hit the lock button and tossed the phone over on the bed.

Why did Mahogany have to do that? She just couldn’t keep her muthafucking mouth shut! I hated I’d let her see me weak not once but twice. Considering all of the shit she had going on with her, I shouldn’t have cared about how she saw me. But shit I did. Mahogany gave Claire Huxtable. Had the beautiful family, successful career, romance novel love life, big ass house, shit... everything. On paper, she was perfect. But in reality, her shit was fucked up. She was no Claire fucking Huxtable. She was Karrine Steffans... Marilyn Monroe... Shit, Naoki Childs. Pretending to be a Claire muthafucking Huxtable and to me, that made her worse than the three of us combined. Weak ass bitch. She loved to tell everybody business but her own, didn’t she? I couldn’t stand that bitch.

I didn’t want Sienna to worry about me. She had too much going on already. Fuck! I shouldn’t have called Mahogany tripping like that. Should’ve just waited. Damn!

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