Page 22 of Love's Most Wanted
Saying she was my wife and mine to worry about almost slipped from a nigga’s lips. The fuck? I needed to get ahold of my-fucking-self because that wasn’t the narrative at all.
“Who the fuck you grabbing on!” he roared, and for some reason I could tell he was more ashamed that I’d snatched his ass up than anything.
“What’s up then?” I stepped back up just as a few PAs and security stalked over.
“Hey, guys. Let’s chill out. Oscar called for an additional fifteen minutes so you two can cool off,” one PA named Sara stated as security stood between AJ and me.
The guard was my exact height, only a little swoler, so I could take his ass, but I relaxed myself. I’d worked too fucking hard to get to where I was to fumble this popular ass show and let a nigga like AJ elevate within it.
“Keep it up, bitch nigga.” I pointed at him before turning to walk off.
Leaving out of the set, I started toward my trailer so I could have a moment to myself. Something was wrong with my ass, and I couldn’t understand why this shit was happening.
For as long as I’d been fucking and dating around, no woman consumed my thoughts like Kabrina. And no woman, especially, had made me think twice about being married to her.
She wasn’t even really my type, to keep shit a buck. I liked the Analicia, Anastazia, and Presley types. The brown-skinned bitches, dark-skinned ones, and extra points if they were thick.
Kabrina was light skinned, and while she had a nice ass body, she was more so slim thick. She was beautiful, though, and her spirit called to me. I felt like a different nigga while I was with her, and I guessed maybe that was it.
When people said marriage was more than paper, that shit was true as fuck. Since I’d found out she was my wife, I felt the need to look out for her, make sure she was good. And women didn’t bring that shit out of me, normally. The most I would do was put something in a woman’s stomach if she let me fuck, but the shit I was thinking of doing for Kabrina wasn’t like me.
This shit wasn’t Unique Compton, and I was starting to think one of my punk ass brothers put some shit in my food or drink.
Kabrina hadn’t even done shit, but it felt like she came into my fucking life and now had me fucked up, not knowing what I was doing.
As I sat on the couch in my nice ass trailer, I just stared down at my hands, praying silently that God would let this shit pass. I was in a relationship, well two, and didn’t need any fucking drama. Going home to tell my girlfriends I had a fucking wife would grant them full permission to behead a nigga, real shit. This was the opposite of what I’d been preaching to their asses.
Even worse, my family was already looking at a nigga with the side-eye, and after all that shit Asif was talking, I needed to prove that I was serious about the situation I was in.
So having Daisy and Aurora, then marrying Kabrina, looked like some unstable shit. Not to mention, I was hesitant to annul what we had. I was only going along for the moment because I could tell she truly wanted the shit, and I was unsure if I didn’t.
A knock sounded off on my door, making me check the time on the Rolex wrapped around my wrist. The fifteen minutes surely weren’t up, and typically, if we did go over a couple minutes, they allowed the shit and didn’t usually send a PA to get you.
When the door to my trailer swung open before I could even grant the person entry, I knew it wasn’t a typical PA. They were too respectful and afraid of losing their jobs at the same time to do the smallest but disrespectful shit.
“Hey, you okay?” The showrunner and basically queen of this whole show, Tamira, walked in.
“I’m good.” I nodded, wishing she’d get the fuck out, but I had to keep it chill. Like I said, she was the queen around this muthafucka, and the job title showrunner meant exactly that.
Whatever Tamira said went, and because she had so much fucking skin in the game, on top of everything, it was rare and infrequent that she was challenged on anything. She didn’t get this far making bad decisions.
Sitting next to me extra closely, her hand gravitated to the back of my head, caressing it for a bit. She was around my mother’s age, a couple years older, actually, so her touches felt awkward as fuck. Speaking of my mama, if she witnessed this shit, she would be all over Tamira.
Being a mother of six boys for a while, and then seven, one thing my mama hated was when much older women came onto us.
I frequently remembered her going in on Khari for the shit several times, and how she wore Lequay’s fifteen-year-old ass out with a leather belt when she caught him on the phone with a twenty-five-year-old, then made him give up the woman’s address so she could break her foot off in her ass.
I’d never heard that nigga’s voice get that high-pitched like it did during that ass whupping, and it had all of us that were younger scared to fucking death. Lisara St. Thomas was a firm believer of no one being too old for a good ass whupping.
All of us had dabbled with older women when we had no business doing the shit—except for Bashar, since Nixi locked his ass down at a young ass age and into adulthood—but only those older two had been caught.
“You know I wanna make sure my star is good.” She spoke against my ear, making the hairs on the back of my fucking neck rise.
I met Tamira when I was trying to get this role onDough Boyz. Initially, when I auditioned years ago, they told me I was good, but I needed a little more work. I felt defeated but ran into her on my way out. Tamira promised me that if I did something for her, she would do something for me, and that would be giving me the role I had auditioned for. I was twenty-two and so hungry for this shit that I agreed. Not to mention, everyone who studied the industry or paid attention knew Tamira was highly regarded within it.
“I ain’t the star. That’s Ramonté.”
“Yeah, but look at how he’s behaving, Nique. He’s a drunk who we have to work around constantly.” She sighed, now massaging the back of my neck. “This is his last season.”
