Page 19 of F*ckin' With Me
The entire time I spoke, Justin was on his phone. When I finished, he put it down and stared at me for a beat. “That’s what’s up. It sounds nice to have a woman with ambition.”
I side-eyed Mr. Brand to see if he had caught the shade. From his smirk, it was evident that he did. Everyone else did too.
Rashad tittered lowly, then said, “It must suck to not like your girl.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. The waiters came in with our meals. Oh, they went all out with the wagyu steak. A nigga loved a good steak.
Justin’s phone chimed in the middle of dinner. He lifted his phone in front of his face. I wasn’t sure if he thought he had earbuds in or something, but his ass didn’t. Before he could respond, a screeching voice was heard. “I hate her, Justin! She’s such a bitch, and I hate she’s my fucking sister!”
Justin fumbled with his phone as he got up to rush out of the room. “Baby, I’m in a room full of people. Damn!”
I wasn’t sure what the fuck happened, but clearly, something did. All I wanted to do was get the hell back to the villa to find out what happened. Justin didn’t come back into the room for almost twenty minutes after his father went out to talk to him. When he came back, he looked exhausted.
Dinner went on for another hour before we all parted ways. Rashad and I went to the bar for a drink before we left the restaurant. “Damn, that shit is sad as hell. That man does not want to marry that girl. I thought I was coming here to get some pussy, not a soap opera,” Rashad said before he took a sip of his drink.
“Yeah, that shit is crazy. Homie looks stuck like fuck,” I pointed out. “Damn, I can’t believe Simonette and Lanette are even related, much less sisters. If they didn’t look so much alike, I wouldn’t believe it.”
Lanette, Simonette, and their mother were gorgeous women. Simonette had always been beautiful, but she didn’t walk in it. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that she had low self-esteem, but there were definitely loud insecurities. There were two results when a nigga ran across a female who had low self-esteem or loud insecurities. If he was a fuck nigga, he’d use it to his advantage and run her ass through the mud. If he was a realnigga, that shit would turn him off, and he’d leave her be or try to uplift her. I was a real nigga and always had been.
“Hey, you.” A female voice greeted us from the side. It was one of the bridesmaids, but I wasn’t sure which one. What I did know was that two of those bitches were married to two of the groomsmen.
Rashad and I turned in her direction. I was relieved when I saw she was locked in on Rashad. There would have been no way I would have been able to rationalize that these women would be so disrespectful that they would try to talk to me when they knew I was Simonette’s man. Well, her fake man . . . her man, whatever.
Rashad looked her up and down.This nigga is going to take the bait.“What’s up?”
She stepped closer to him, which caused her breast to rub on his arm. He moved back a little. I could tell she was surprised by his action, but in these days and times, you couldn’t touch anyone without consent. That was a rule that was relevant for everyone and more relevant for professional athletes, entertainers, and public figures.
“I’m trying to see what’s up with you,” she cooed. “I wanted to know if you wanted to have a nightcap with me.” Her finger traced down his arm.
He grabbed her hand. “Please don’t touch me until I give you permission. Also, by nightcap, do you mean fuckin’? If that’s not what you mean, then I’m not interested.” He held up his drink. “I’m having a nightcap, as you say, right now. I just want expectations to be set.”
Her light skin reddened. Yeah, she wasn’t used to that kind of forwardness. “Oh, well, yes. If you want to be grown about it.”
I tilted my head. “Yo, ain’t you one of the groomsmen’s wives? I know I’m not tripping.” Her lack of a response was response enough. “Yeah, y’all hos wild. Carry on.”
Rashad pulled his phone out. “Aye, what’s your email that you have access to right now on your phone? I need you to complete this consent form and NDA.”
Her face scrunched like hell. “What? You want me to complete a permission slip and an NDA? You can’t be serious,” she said with a giggle.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, the way I see it, I’m covering your ass too. You sign these, then I can’t tell your husband how I smutted his whore wife out. Marriage saved!”
In my head, I just knew she would curse his ass out and walk away. When she gave him the email address, my be was hooved. I watched my boy sit there and email her the forms needed. She got the email and electronically signed the forms. I was almost positive that she didn’t read any of them. “Okay, I sent them back,” she said with a goofy smile.
Rashad reviewed the forms carefully, smiled, then put his phone on the bar. “Bet. Daylen, I sent it to you to sign as the witness. Once he signs, it will be sent to my lawyer.” After I took my phone out, signed, and confirmed it with him, he looked at her. “You can touch me now, and I’m going to touch you. Is that cool?”
Her ho ass nodded way too hard.
“Yeah, I’m about to head back to the villa. This shit is wild.”
Rashad told ole girl to meet him on the beach in an hour and a half. I gawked at this married woman as she skipped her ass out of the restaurant. What kind of women were they?
“I can’t believe you’re really going to fuck that lady,” I said to Rashad as we walked back to the villa. “Hell, I can’t believe she’s bold enough to come at you in the open like her husband wasn’t just in the same restaurant with you. Diabolical is what it is.”
Rashad’s left shoulder lifted to his ear. “Look, I put it all on the table for that ho. She willingly signed the forms. Who am I?—”
His words were cut off by the sound of loud voices in the distance. We stopped walking to scope the scene. When I found the source of the voices, I hit Rashad’s chest with the back of my hand. “Yo, is that Justin? Who is he talking to?”
We could see him clearly, but the female, not so much. “Man, that ain’t our business. I got pussy waiting on me.”
