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“Okay.” I let out a deep breath. That was enough. For now. Grabbing her hand, I led her outside to my truck. We got inside, and I drove toward Key’s house. I kept the radio off just in case she had questions, but she didn’t say a word, and I didn’t try to push her to talk. About ten minutes into the drive, she put her feet on the dashboard. I looked toward her, and she was looking out the window. She didn’t even realize what she did. That gesture let me know we were good. Even if she didn’t know it herself, I did. She was no longer scared, and she was comfortable. It might take some time for her to come around, but this was a start, and it was enough. I kept my attention on the road as I smiled to myself. I finally pulled up at Key’s house and parked. Getting out, I met her on her side and opened the door. By the time we got to the porch, Key was standing there mugging the shit out of Bubbles.

“Well, look what the cat drug in. If I didn’t see you soon, I was about to call DCFS on your ass for child neglect. What kind of mama don’t go see their child?” Bubbles looked at me, and I just laughed and shrugged my shoulders. We walked inside, and Key closed the door. “Don’t go waking her up either. She’s in her room sleep. Come back and get her tomorrow.”

“She got a room here?” Bubbles tried to whisper, but Key heard her.

“Yeah. Hell, she needed one. She ain’t have one at your shit. What yall doing here?”

“Show her.” Key nodded and went to get the laptop. I pulled her to the couch and sat her down. He handed it to her, and she pressed play. I watched her expression change from shocked to hurt. Even though I handled him for her, I knew I couldn’t take away the pain of betrayal. Bubbles wiped the tears from her eyes angrily.

“Is this it?” I wanted to ask her, mufucka, that ain’t enough? Instead, I answered her.

“Naw. The gas station was the set up. If you had gone through with that, your ass was going to jail. I stopped him before he got there.”

“Thank you.” Knowing I didn’t want any more bullshit between us, I decided to come clean.

“I ummm… I’m your landlord.” She slowly turned toward me, and I could see the fire in her eyes. Key was standing behind me trying to laugh under his breath.

“You wanna run that by me again?”

“I bought your building.”

“And served me a thirty day notice?” I nodded. Before I could speak, she hauled off and hit me. “All of this shit was your fault.”

“Technically, it was yours. You could have called me for help, came home, or left that goofyass nigga to fend for himself. Nobody told you to go rob a damn gas station. I told you before, you are not a good criminal. Leave that shit alone.”

“You’re sick.” She was trying to play mad, but I could tell she was amused. Besides, she knew I was right. Her ass was just as much at fault.

“I told him the same thing, Bubbles. Nigga didn’t want to listen to me though.” I shot Key a look. He threw his hands up. Out of nowhere, Bubbles fell out laughing. She was laughing so hard, me and Key looked at each other confused. “Psycho Betty. If you wake Lovii up, I’mma drop your homeless off to the shelter.”

“I must got some good pussy cat. Your ass done lost all your mind.”

“So.” Was all I offered before grabbing her.

“Yall deserve each other. Get the fuck out of my house.” I waited to see what Bubbles would do. She stood and walked toward the door.

“Take me home.” I didn’t know if she meant her apartment, but if she did, she was about to be mad as fuck. I was taking her to my house, and this time, I wasn’t letting her go. We walked outside and climbed in the truck. This drive was different from the one we just had. She immediately put her feet on the dash. I turned up the radio and grabbed her hand in mine. We still had a ways to go, but we were headed in the right direction. I looked over at her, and Bubbles was staring out the window. I could have tried to talk to her, but I knew she needed time to process the new information I had just given her. As long as she was with me while she did it, I didn’t give a fuck how long it took her.

Simone “Bubbles” Stanton

A week ago, I was scared to death of this nigga. Today, I was standing in the bathroom trying to figure out how to keep a straight face when I went downstairs. When I first got here, everything was exactly as it was when I left, but nothing felt the same. Not the bed, the kitchen, or even the big ass TV in his room I spent most of my time watching. Especially not the man I was lying next to. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Finding out Anton was Tax was one thing, but learning Peanut was wearing a wire and trying to set me up was a different kind of hurt.

I wasn’t happy he was dead, but after watching that recording, I understood why Anton did what he did. Peanut was trying to send me to prison, and Anton wasn’t going for that. It was him or me. What fucked me up was thinking about everything I’d done for that nigga. I had risked my life for him and continuously put myself in situations I had no business being in, all because I thought I owed him something. When I finally found somebody that made me happy, I gave him up too. All for his ass. Meanwhile, this nigga sitting in the police station slamming the snitch meal telling on me.

I couldn’t even count how many times I’d sat in the bathtub crying the first few days. I realized how little I must’ve meant to him. There was no other way of putting it. There was no way you cared about me but could do something like that. I wasn’t perfect. Hell, half the shit I did wasn’t even smart, but I wouldn’t give up someone I love to save myself. I kept thinking about all the times I’d defended him. All the excuses I’d made and the shit I’d overlooked because I felt I owed him. Then I’d get mad at myself for crying over a nigga who didn’t deserve another tear.

The first night, Anton came into the bathroom and found me sitting in the tub. My knees were against my chest, and I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. He didn’t get mad or talk shit. He just sat on the edge of the tub and began washing my body. When I finally told him I felt stupid, he’d looked at me and said, “You weren’t stupid for being loyal to somebody you loved. You were stupid for thinking or expecting everybody to love like you.” It was hard to hear, but I needed the truth. After that, when I cried, he held me, made sure I ate, and stayed by my side until I felt like I didn’t want to cry anymore. I looked at myself one more time before heading downstairs.

I could hear Anton cursing under his breath. I stood in the doorway and just watched him. I laughed immediately. This nigga was standing in the kitchen with flour all over him, kneading some dough. This was the man they called Tax. A stone cold killer and he was in here frustrated because he couldn’t get the dough to do what he wanted. He was cooking for me. He didn’t look soft, just not like what one would expect from the boogeyman. That realization was what actually turned my way of thinking around.

I was still kind of scared of him when we got here. Knowing all the stories I heard, how could I not? This was the man people whispered about, responsible for many funerals, and had most men shook, but he let me get away with the most. I had kidnapped him, and instead of killing me, this man ate stolen gizzards and chicken. Stayed in the basement just so he could spend time and get to know me. I’ve talked shit to him, slapped him, and even left him to go back to another nigga. After all of that, I found out his secret and I was still here. Hell, he even killed for me.

Knowing how fucked up he was over me, I was embarrassed to admit how much that turned me on. He could have anybody he wanted, but he wanted my crazy ass. I wasn’t about to sit here and act like that shit didn’t do something to me. Even his words at the lake house. That meant something. A whole lot more than I understood that day, but when it finally registered, I tried to suck his soul through his pee hole. Now, I was standing here looking at the boogeyman trying to make bread.

“Ain’t shit funny. Come over here and help me,” he said without looking up.

“Help you do what? You the one decided you wanted to be Betty Crocker. What the hell we eating for dinner, a biscuit?”

“I’m making a pizza.” I frowned my face up.