Honor Thy Thug - By Wahida Clark Page 0,71

your dick so good you’ll start sucking your thumb.”

“You gonna fuck around and make me put these niggas up outta here,” he teased.

I giggled that I’ma get dicked down tonight giggle, got up off his lap, and headed upstairs for the kitchen with a smile on my face. I couldn’t wait for the main event to be over. I was singing to myself as I got the beer out and started making my baby his sandwiches. The phone rang and “Unknown” flashed across the caller ID. I picked it up.

“Helloooo.”

They hung up.

I went back to doing what I was doing, and a couple of minutes later, the phone rang again.

“Hello?”

“Is Mr. Macklin available?” I took a deep breath and counted to three. This bitch! “Well, is he? This is a business call.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

I hung up the phone. I was tired of talking. She called right back, but this time, I allowed it to ring. After about seven times—yes I counted—it stopped. A few minutes later, it rang again. After ring number seven, I picked it up, and so did Trae.

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Macklin, thank you for answering. We need to have a meeting this coming Tuesday per my father’s instructions.”

“Why are you calling my home? You know the rules. And what do I look like meeting with you?”

“Something urgent has come up.”

“I don’t get my instructions from you, Charli.” He hung up, and so did I.

And then the doorbell rang. Who else did Trae invite? Pissed, I made my way to the front of the house, opened the door and there stood a messenger.

“I have a delivery for Mr. Trae Macklin.”

I looked at the letter pack in his hand before opening the screen door.

“You need to sign for this.”

I cracked the screen door and took the package from him, refusing to sign and slammed the door in his face. I knew who it was from. I tore the envelope open as I headed back into the kitchen.

Mr. Macklin,

My father is out of the country, and I have instructions for you. We can meet Tuesday, one o’clock, at Joe’s. I know you prefer to meet on your turf, or shall I say the seedy part of town? You can confirm it with him, if you wish. After all, this is simply business. Nothing else.”

Charli Li

A couple of minutes later, Trae came into the kitchen carrying the phone. He eased up behind me and kissed me on the neck. “You aiight in here?”

“I’m good.” I lifted the top half of the roll and showed him his sandwich. “How does this look?” It took everything I had to hold onto my composure and act as if I was cool.

“It looks good.” He eyed his sandwich and licked his lips. He kissed my cheek. “Thanks, baby.”

“Here, take this downstairs, and I’ll be right behind you.” I shoved his plate into his hand along with the envelope and grabbed the beer. I took them downstairs, then came back up and rushed outside onto the front porch. I had to get some fresh air. I sat down, and it felt as if I was suffocating. I was so furious all I could do was cry. I felt helpless, and it took me damn near forever to pull myself together. The only thing that calmed me down was swinging back and forth on the porch swing. Finally, my mind, my spirit and my breathing became steady. I hadn’t even noticed the two pit bulls in the truck in my driveway. They were barking and scratching at the windows.

“Tasha, why are you out here?” Trina appeared in the doorway. “Your husband is looking for you and he said, don’t sweat the small bullshit.”

“I needed some fresh air and fuck him!” I told her as I kept staring straight ahead. I could feel her looking at me.

“I could shoot those albino-looking muthafuckas!” she snapped.

“Who do they belong to?” I asked her.

“Jameer. Those are his damn dogs.”

“You rode over here with him in the truck with those stinking beasts?” My sister was nastier than I thought.

“Hell, no! Don’t you see my car over there? I can’t stand those dogs. I told him he better put them muthafuckas to sleep if he think he’s gonna be gettin’ some of this.”

“What did he say?”

“What do you think he said? He’s putting them to sleep.”

“Yeah, right, bitch, you ain’t that good.” I had to smile at my own sarcasm.

“How much you wanna bet?” she challenged.

“Why does he need two of them?”

“Two?

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