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12:30 A.M. . .
"What's up? You've reached Ariel. Leave me a numeric message or a voice message, and I'll get back to you later."
August hung up the phone as he sat in his black Porsche Cayenne, maneuvering through the late night streets on black rims and hidden behind the black tint, as he headed to Park Slope neighborhood where Ariel lived. Pushing the horses under the hood of his foreign car to the max, he knew that the devil inside of him had been awakened.
Since the night Ariel had confronted him about Miracle and confessed her love for him, he tried to hold out on her, not wanting to give her his all just to protect her from his world of crime. But now he realized that no matter how hard he tried to keep his feelings for her at bay, she had him.
Ariel captured his soul and his heart in her hands, and without her he felt empty. He would kill a nigga over her, together or not, he felt that she would always belong to him. Especially now that she was pregnant with his child, he would never allow another nigga to take his place. So the fact that she was entertaining someone else new, had him in a blind fury and he couldn't get to his destination fast enough.
As he drove, he made a right on to 137th street and crept down to the middle of the block. Making a complete stop he spotted Ariel's black Benz parked in front of her crib, and right away he knew that she was home.
She's on 'dat bullshit wit' 'dis shit? he thought slighted, seeing that she was ignoring his calls on purpose.
He was heated because even though he was doing his own shit with Miracle, the selfish part of him still felt like Ariel was his, and to make matters worse she was fucking off on the next nigga while carrying his seed. It was the ultimate disrespect in his eyes. She had went against the grain, and he was going to make sure to check her for it.
August exited the car and made his way up to Ariel's apartment building. Although he had a key to her place, he still knocked out of respect, even though he felt that he had every right to barge in. When he didn't get an answer, he opened the door anyway and stepped inside.
From the moment he entered, he immediately knew that she had not been there lately. The fresh sent of vanilla was fading from the air, the neatly clean apartment was untouched, and everything was in its rightful place. As he moved through the apartment, his suspicions arose.
Whea' da' fuck ya' at, ma? he asked as he inventoried her bedroom.
Her closet and dressers were still filled with clothes. He knew that she didn't go out of town, because her suitcases were still in the closet. As he collapsed onto her bed, his gut twisted in premonition.
