Page 20 of In Too Deep

“Nigga this ain’t quite a fuckin’ favor. This bitch look every bit of dead,” Roxx snapped with a cigar hanging from his mouth.

The freaky ass nigga was shirtless, with nut leaking from his dick.

I wasn’t new to his freaky ass lifestyle, but it made me feel like less of a maniac when I saw what he was into.

Roxx didn’t believe in monogamy, and the thought of being a one-woman man put a bad taste in his mouth.

He saw fit screwing his assistants if they were into that type of shit, with no strings attached, but that never turned out right.

Every time I visited RoxxGuard, there was a new receptionist with high sex appeal. He never fucked with ugly bitches, but I always told him one day he’d meet a woman that’d make him want to turn his player card in and have him in a choke hold.

“Mane, who the fuck said she was dead nigga,” I argued back, more so pissed off that he answered the door on demon time. “And why the fuck you answer the door wit’ yo dick out when I told you I was on the way with her?”

Roxx and I are the same height, but he’s way darker than me.

Taking my mama’s coffee bean complexion from her, just like Reese.

He’s built too, but not stocky. When his cybersecurity software company wasn’t kicking his ass or when he wasn’t balls deep in some pussy, he favored the gym.

He was the spitting image of my father, while I looked like a mixture of both our parents; Roxx mirrored our father.

Reese resembled our mother, only gaining his height from our father.

I carried Synthia’s limp body through his dungeon.

It was a short walk from his car garage, and there was only one way in and one way out.

He saw fit for an off duty doctor when shit got a little too rambunctious when he hosted sex parties or when his partners begged for more than they could handle, so I requested the favor knowing he’d come through for me.

Synthia wasn’t dead, but she took a serious blow to the head, mainly from the airbag deploying.

There was a small gash above her left eyebrow, and she needed stitches.

I couldn’t risk taking her to the hospital, so I did what was convenient.

She’d get the same amount of treatment here, if not better.

“Because, bitch, this my mothafuckin’ house. I grew up cleaning yo lil’ shrimp of a dick, so seeing mine for a while won’t hurt,” he chuckled.

“Aye nigga,” I warned him. “I ain’t got no knuckle dick.”

“My dick seven inches on soft, so what does that tell you. Pull yours out and let me see it,” he challenged me.

“Gay ass nigga, fuck I look like having a dick swangin’ contest with you,” I playfully pushed him after laying Synthia down on the gurney.

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” he boasted. “Who’s she?” He pointed at Synthia.

“Long story, but something I’m trying to fuck on from time to time.” I shrugged my shoulders as I adjusted her on the gurney.

Nodding his head, he scratched his beard, still examining Synthia with his eyes roaming over her body. “She look familiar. I can’t put a name on where I seen her from though.”

“Trecee,” I spoke. “That’s her cousin.”

He glanced over at me, giving me a sly grin before shaking his head. “You like ratchet pussy, huh?”

“That’s the best way to have it.” I chuckled. “But look, how long is this gon’ take?” I inquired, shifting the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“I’ll call you when he’s done.”

“Make sure she don’t wake up.”

He gave me a questionable expression, seeming as if he wanted to probe around, but didn’t.

I could’ve stuck around, but I had some shit other to handle.

One of them being, making sure the footage was completely wiped of the wreck and me murking Allen.

I couldn’t care less about eyewitness because my height and build was average.

It’d take them years to find me based on one description, knowing how many niggas in Memphis looked like me.

For good faith, I killed the truck driver too.

His part played a major role, more so than Synthia and Allen did, in collecting the loot.

It’d be ruled as foul play, but that wasn’t on me.

As far as the phones, I collected whatever they had from the boxes and drove them to Telo Wireless.

I didn’t alert Javon of my appearance, so he looked a bit shocked to see me, like he was caught doing some shit he had no business doing with his phone in his hand, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Nigga, you actin’ like you just seen a ghost, tighten up,” I scoffed with a low chuckle, eying the phone clutched in his hand.

Before arriving here, I had my car towed—the one that Synthia drove and had them take it to the chop shop.

Whatever parts they needed were useful, but I needed the license plate deadened so it couldn’t be traced back to me.

The only upside was that the drive out tags were fake, and the car was used as a decoy whenever I needed to handle something lucrative.

It was the only way the cops and county sheriffs would stay off my ass versus riding with no tags at all.

It was also the car I let Trecee drive every now and again when she needed a lift from point A to B.

It wasn’t the best, but it kept her quiet.

“I wasn’t expecting you to pull up like this,” he responded, looking behind me at the beat up car.

My nigga who towed my car that Synthia wrecked made sure to pull up in something I could use for the time being so I could handle some shit. It’d be good as gone by tomorrow and burned into flames though.

“Them niggas who stole from me, I caught up wit’ ‘em. They were hitting another lick tonight,” I let him know, walking past him and into our storage room to stock the phones on an empty pallet.

Instead of riddling me with questions, he got to it, and the stock room was so loaded that it couldn’t fit us both.

Some of the phone spilled out of the room, but this satisfied me, but it had me thinking if it could happen again, and what other measures I could take to ensure that it wouldn’t.

The only other way was to tap the phones with chips—tracking devices that would be easy to insert but difficult to remove until they land.

I’d be sure to hit up Roxx to see if he could ship my plug some of that cybersecurity shit if he had something like that on him to make sure this never happened again.

It’d be a bit much, but it was worth it, and I don’t mind paying an extra stack or whatever it took to make sure of it.

***

I grimaced in annoyance as I examined the stitching above Synthia’s left eyebrow.

It added a layer of grit to her pretty ass face, and she didn’t need that.

She wasn’t a rough ass woman. The soft attitude is what I liked about her, despite her shitty habits to make money, she was fine as fuck, with a banging ass body to go along with a pretty ass face.

I didn’t want her in any pain, and I made sure Roxx’s nurse provided whatever medication would subside it for the time being, until it healed.

Putting her in that position last night told me that she wasn’t a gutta bitch for real and was only looting to make ends meet, but it makes me wonder how far she would have gone had I not used a lucrative system to make sure all of my phones were intact?

‘Ole scary ass bitch was in the front seat shaking the whole time, begging and pleading me to stop and saying all types of shit, fall for the bait, but the deed was already signed. Killing Allen made my dick hard—shit like that gets my dick hard. I haven’t gotten my hands dirty in years, and this shit was deadly.

When it comes to my money, I don’t play that soft ass shit.

Niggas and bitches will cross you where you stand, thinking you’re soft as cotton until you show ‘em why you aren’t meant to be fucked with.

Allen knew I sold phones, just like every nigga in the hood knew he sold guns.

That was rookie as hell on his part not to double check and see if he was stealing from me.

He was the jack of all trades and could make a dollar quick, but that was foul.

Ain’t no way, I could’ve let him live Scott free without risking my integrity because he wasn’t loyal.

He knew better than that shit, and I didn’t feel bad for doing what I had to do.

Had the shoe been on the other foot, he would have done the same thing to me.

This shit is chess until niggas get out a deck of cards and start playing spades.

I ain’t meant to be fucked with, and he crossed the line.

Shaking my head, I exited the room and trotted downstairs to greet my housekeeper, Lola.

She was cooking breakfast for Synthia and me per my request. Lola was like family, and Roxx and I rotated every other week or whoever needed her.

She had a three bedroom house on the compound to fit our needs and was always on call.

Growing up, our parents had a heavy schedule, but my mother was old school and wouldn’t allow another woman in our household, so the only thing Lola assisted her with was picking us up from school.

Our mama still cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all while working and keeping the house clean until our father made her get off her feet.

Lola was one to keep and we all loved her.

“Buenos dias, Sr. Romelo. Espero que no te importe. Fui un poco pesado con el desayuno. Queria hacer todos tus favoritos.” She greeted me as she wiped her hands on the front of her stained apron.

“English, Lola, English.”

I staggered over to her and wrapped my arm around her for a hug, but left air flow between us, to keep from messing up my clothes.

Lola was every bit of five feet, so I had to dip down to hug her.

She was gorgeous with a toasted skin complexion, long jet black curly hair, arched brows, full lips, a pretty smile and a set of almond shaped brown eyes.

If I was doggish I’d try to get a taste, but Lola was like family, and I wouldn’t cross those lines, despite my taste for Synthia, that was different.

Leaning back on the counter, I glanced at everything around the table. My eyes darted from plate to plate at all the unhealthy shit that would put a nigga on his back.

Playfully, she fanned me away and turned her back to me, as she trotted around the kitchen, to straighten things up.

“Roxx told me you were working on your Spanish, so I wanted to put you to the test. Why haven’t you been practicing, Romelo,” she chastised me. “Roxx is very fluent ya know.”

I grinned because it was true. “My hands are tied with other shit—I mean stuff, but I’ll keep on studying if it makes you happy.”

“Being bilingual is an advantage. Haven’t I always told you that?” Turning around, she grinned with her hand on her hip before shaking her head.

Placing my hands in a prayer stance, I nodded my head. “Yes ma’am. I’ll work on it.”

“Do you want me to fix you a plate. I have more than enough, and if you want me to make you more, I will.”

“Nah, no ma’am, this is more than enough.” I told her as I staggered to the pantry to get a paper plate. “Just make sure when you’re done, you take the knives and shit wit’ you.”

Hearing that, she turned around and eyed me suspiciously for a second before proceeding back to doing what held her attention captive. “

“Yes sir,” she responded.

“And what I tell you about that, sir shit? Do I look like my father?”

“You actually do,” she giggled.

“You know what,” I chuckled and wagged my finger in her direction.

Everything I felt like Synthia could eat, I put on the plate.

From watching her eat the other day, I could tell she wasn’t one of those picky ass eaters who didn’t like their food touching, because the plate was filled with all types of shit.

There was orange juice placed in a red solo cup and chopped up fruit served in a plastic bowl.

Hopefully, a plate full of food will subside for the damage I’d done earlier this morning.

The way to a woman’s heart ain’t dick, it’s food and a stack of money, and I got that.

Entering the room, she was sitting up, looking like she was drifting off into a daze, with glossy eyes. She didn’t even look over at me when I entered the room and made myself visible.

“I figured you were hungry, so I had my housekeeper cook up some shit for you,” I spoke gently as I placed the tray on the bed and the cup on the nightstand. “How you feelin’ Juicy?”

Her eyelashes batted at the wall, and her breathing was steady, so she wasn’t hyperventilating or having a panic attack. Any signs indicating that she was in pain were null too.

“I know you hear me,” I muttered, standing over her. “My housekeeper, Lola, whipped up some good shit. Her pancakes are fluffy as hell, and she cooked her eggs after frying the bacon. The French toast is fye as hell too. Try some of this shit to put something on yo stomach. I know you’re hungry.”

Beside the cup, I placed the tray on the nightstand and picked up a piece of bacon so I could feed it to her. She frowned and turned her head it away from me. The asshole in me continued to fuck with her, but she didn’t bulge, still ignoring me, giving me the silent treatment.

“You need anything?”

Stubbornly, she continued to ignore me, her silence heavy and infuriating, so I walked out, slamming the door behind me.

As I staggered down the hall, I heard something clash against the wall, which indicated that she’d thrown the tray of food.

I halted my steps and clenched my jaw. The thought lingered heavy on my mind to go back in the master bedroom and show the fuck out, but I didn’t.

Her throwing hissy fits was normal, but acting like a tick in my ass was her showing a common characteristic of being related to Trecee.

It’d been twenty four hours since I’d gotten any sleep, but with a demon clawing at my back, a good night of rest wouldn’t come any time soon.

Work wasn’t stopping, but I needed to wash my ass before handling business and tending to Telo Wireless.

I had to start on my iPhone count and speak with the plug about what went down and the cyber security chip shit, just in case another nigga or bitch grew balls bigger than Texas and got the urge to try me again.