"i can't even kick it 'cause you watching my story though. i got ones you've seen and I've got some you don't need to know. i done gave more dick than a little, i know i'm the reason that you freaky now... you wish you could be the reason that I settle down, you done gave me all i wanted, but i still got reasons" -Brent Faiyaz ❀❀❀
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"You better come correct, nigga. Playin' witchu is the last muhfuckin' thing I'mma be doin' up Innis bitch. Be careful." Her well-manicured finger was pointing in the middle of his face, her eyes staring straight into his, her long lashes extensions batting as her eyes opened and shut. She then looked him up and down, rolling her eyes at his nonchalance. Even her being angry wasn't doing anything to make him act right.
For the past two weeks, he only slept in their shared home in Houma, Louisiana, once. He kept on blaming his sleeping outside of their home, on work. Being a kingpin oftentimes came with long nights, but, Lakeisha was never the type to be dumb. She knew it was more than just work. Hell, she had the proofs. But lying was embedded in Michael's vein, like the drunkard's blood was filled with more alcohol than actual hemoglobin. Despite the pictures she showed him, of him tonguing down some random broad in his home back in Biloxi, Mississippi, he swore to her that it wasn't him. He even put it on his mother, while the woman has been dead and 6 feet under for the past decade.
"Lakeisha, I told you and I'm tellin' you this for the last time. It ain't me on the picture." He insisted, lazily bringing his blunt to his mouth, securing it between his lips, pulling from it twice before exhaling the grey smoke. He looked up at her, witnessing her stance changing, her arms crossed over her chest, her hip poking to the left. He also read anger on her features, and it turned him on. One thing he loved in women, was when they'd be ready to kill him. It made his dick twitch.
"C'mere." He signed with his fingers bending. When he saw that she didn't move, he repeated himself, inhaling another puff of his blunt.
"I'm not comin' no goddamn where until you tell me the truth! I'm tired of your games!" She spat out, staying out on her same spot. He chuckled, leaning forward to ash his blunt in the iced-out ashtray placed in the middle of their coffee table, then leaned back on the headrest. A smile cracked his lips open, his eyes slowly running up Lakeisha's body, to her eyes which began to fill with tears. He chuckled loudly and spoke again.
"If you know I'm playin' games witchu, why the fuck you stickin' 'round?" He asked, laughing again as she sobbed. "See, that's the problem with y'all bitches. You see all 'em stacks and ice, so me treatin' like you ain't nothin' becomes cute just cause I'm throwin money at ya thirsty ass. You been wimme' 4 years, I still treat you the same and yet, you still here. You should know ya worth, Keisha."
His words pierced her heart as they would always do whenever she asked him for explanations. It was a dirty cycle that kept on being repeated. What he said was partly true, but it was also way beyond her love for his money. Nah, she wasn't in love with him as a person. She forced herself out of that feeling. But besides his bands, there was one other thing she was addicted to. His little friend down his pants. It had her in a chokehold, and that chokehold brainwashed her to the point where she'd take any insult coming from him. Oh yes, she'd defend her name, but would always end up back in his embrace at night, when their body would be made one by the act that sex was. Sad life she lived, but it came with the choices she made.
