Page 63
Story: Real's Love
“Get the fuck out, Real,” he roared.
Yeah, Keelah must have really left because Cairo rarely let anyone see him lose his cool. I mean, two minutes ago, we were vibing hard as hell, and now this. My brother was obviously fucked-up, but I wasn’t about to be his punching bag. If he wanted to square up, we could square up.
Grabbing my shit from the coffee table, I exited his house and climbed into my bronze Range, headed toward the Heights. Cairo had made me mad, but he was probably right—popping up at Ev’s usually guaranteed a good meal, bomb pussy, and no drama. I could use that right now. I hadn’t seen her since Naqeesa called for my help with Gin and Syn, despite those two texts. I was ready to lay eyes on her.
Ev worked half days most Fridays. She was probably already in some lounging clothes, reading a book or some shit. I side-eyed the box truck on her driveway but there wasn’t any telling what she was having delivered. She didn’t respond to the bell, but I figured she was busy with her delivery. I reached for the doorknob, just to test it. Her front door was unlocked, and I opened my mouth to get on her ass then stopped and realized that the soothing earth tones that usually greeted me as I walked in were gone. Frowning, I also noticed that the scents of her southern cooking were missing, too.
“What the hell?” I mumbled as I strolled through the initial foyer into a hallway with doors that led to her office and a room she used for storage. The hallway ended a few feet shy of the wide staircase. To the left was her living room. Except for a few boxes and two niggas in black shirts and khakis, it was empty. Their conversation stopped when they saw me. I mugged them in silence. They glanced at each other before the shorter one spoke.
“You looking for Ms. Hill? She?—"
“I’m right here,” Ev’s voice, soft but heavy with its accent, reached my ears.
She walked through the now-empty dining room on the other side of the stairs, and I watched her confident stroll. Shorty was bad, I acknowledged, my eyes drifting from the full breasts barely held in by her little black dress to the curvy hips filling out that dress. I wanted to feel her lips, painted a deep red, somewhere on my body. They curved a little as she looked at me. One arched brow lifted, and she tossed the locks of her wavy hair over her shoulder.
“Hello, stranger,” she greeted.
That little tease of a smile grew as she stopped in front of me. Apparently, she was no longer fucked up about the phone call, but looking at this house, I wasn’t on that no more, either.
“The fuck you going, Evanie? The fuck is yo’ shit?” I demanded, surprising myself.
She sighed, then shook her head at me.
“Real… suga, we should probably go in the office,” she drawled before turning to the two men.
She reached into her large, gray Céline bag and withdrew her wallet, pulling out several bills. She handed them to one of the movers.
“Your tip. The office already has my card on file. Just close the door when you finish,” she instructed.
The short nigga grinned, letting his eyes stray over her body.
“Yes, ma’am, Ms. G?—"
“Hurry the fuck up,” I spat at him.
That smile disappeared from his goofy ass face. Evanie sighed.
“Seriously, Real?” she fussed.
“Office,” I gritted out before leading her there.
Throwing open the door and seeing the empty space just pissed me off more. Nothing was left except the heavy oak desk. I whirled on her, slamming the door behind her, before backing her against the wall.
“You gon’ tell me what the h?—"
“I’ve been trying to tell you! If you would return a text, you’d know that,” she cut me off, her voice still soft.
Evanie never raised her voice and even that shit was driving me right now. But she was right. She’d reached out, but I’d been busy with work. And I had decided to stay away from her just because I needed the distance to make sure I could slow down and control whatever this was between us.
“You moving? You couldn’t just text that? Where you moving?” I shot questions at her angrily, not liking the way I was feeling.
“I’m leaving the city for a while.”
I refused to acknowledge the relief that washed over me. My body relaxed and I took a step back.
“Another job? That’s cool. How long? You ain’t have to move, love. I would’ve?—"
“It’s not another job… exactly,” she said.
Yeah, Keelah must have really left because Cairo rarely let anyone see him lose his cool. I mean, two minutes ago, we were vibing hard as hell, and now this. My brother was obviously fucked-up, but I wasn’t about to be his punching bag. If he wanted to square up, we could square up.
Grabbing my shit from the coffee table, I exited his house and climbed into my bronze Range, headed toward the Heights. Cairo had made me mad, but he was probably right—popping up at Ev’s usually guaranteed a good meal, bomb pussy, and no drama. I could use that right now. I hadn’t seen her since Naqeesa called for my help with Gin and Syn, despite those two texts. I was ready to lay eyes on her.
Ev worked half days most Fridays. She was probably already in some lounging clothes, reading a book or some shit. I side-eyed the box truck on her driveway but there wasn’t any telling what she was having delivered. She didn’t respond to the bell, but I figured she was busy with her delivery. I reached for the doorknob, just to test it. Her front door was unlocked, and I opened my mouth to get on her ass then stopped and realized that the soothing earth tones that usually greeted me as I walked in were gone. Frowning, I also noticed that the scents of her southern cooking were missing, too.
“What the hell?” I mumbled as I strolled through the initial foyer into a hallway with doors that led to her office and a room she used for storage. The hallway ended a few feet shy of the wide staircase. To the left was her living room. Except for a few boxes and two niggas in black shirts and khakis, it was empty. Their conversation stopped when they saw me. I mugged them in silence. They glanced at each other before the shorter one spoke.
“You looking for Ms. Hill? She?—"
“I’m right here,” Ev’s voice, soft but heavy with its accent, reached my ears.
She walked through the now-empty dining room on the other side of the stairs, and I watched her confident stroll. Shorty was bad, I acknowledged, my eyes drifting from the full breasts barely held in by her little black dress to the curvy hips filling out that dress. I wanted to feel her lips, painted a deep red, somewhere on my body. They curved a little as she looked at me. One arched brow lifted, and she tossed the locks of her wavy hair over her shoulder.
“Hello, stranger,” she greeted.
That little tease of a smile grew as she stopped in front of me. Apparently, she was no longer fucked up about the phone call, but looking at this house, I wasn’t on that no more, either.
“The fuck you going, Evanie? The fuck is yo’ shit?” I demanded, surprising myself.
She sighed, then shook her head at me.
“Real… suga, we should probably go in the office,” she drawled before turning to the two men.
She reached into her large, gray Céline bag and withdrew her wallet, pulling out several bills. She handed them to one of the movers.
“Your tip. The office already has my card on file. Just close the door when you finish,” she instructed.
The short nigga grinned, letting his eyes stray over her body.
“Yes, ma’am, Ms. G?—"
“Hurry the fuck up,” I spat at him.
That smile disappeared from his goofy ass face. Evanie sighed.
“Seriously, Real?” she fussed.
“Office,” I gritted out before leading her there.
Throwing open the door and seeing the empty space just pissed me off more. Nothing was left except the heavy oak desk. I whirled on her, slamming the door behind her, before backing her against the wall.
“You gon’ tell me what the h?—"
“I’ve been trying to tell you! If you would return a text, you’d know that,” she cut me off, her voice still soft.
Evanie never raised her voice and even that shit was driving me right now. But she was right. She’d reached out, but I’d been busy with work. And I had decided to stay away from her just because I needed the distance to make sure I could slow down and control whatever this was between us.
“You moving? You couldn’t just text that? Where you moving?” I shot questions at her angrily, not liking the way I was feeling.
“I’m leaving the city for a while.”
I refused to acknowledge the relief that washed over me. My body relaxed and I took a step back.
“Another job? That’s cool. How long? You ain’t have to move, love. I would’ve?—"
“It’s not another job… exactly,” she said.
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