My Woman His Wife Saga (29 page)

Seeing Monica on that tape brought back so many memories. At the time we were together I was in love with her, and I couldn't see how mentally sick she was. I, too, was caught up in her web of lies and deceit, and for a brief time in my life I wanted to believe I was in love with her. She presented a stability that I couldn't get at home, and I craved to live life on the other side of the fence. I soon found out that the grass wasn't as green as I thought it was.

I met her at an art demonstration down at CCP (the Community College of Philadelphia) during fashion week. She had a few pieces on display, and I was in awe of the detail displayed in her work. Before I knew the woman in the picture, I was intrigued. Her eyes drew you into the painting, having you believe that she could see into your soul, taking the breath out of your lungs.

I was standing there in a trance staring at a painting of her lying on a chaise lounge the color of fall leaves. The fireplace strategically placed off in the corner of the painting looked lifelike. Her use of colors was impeccable. I must have zoned out because I didn't realize she was standing next to me until she spoke. Her voice sounded like a rushing waterfall. I was hooked from day one.

“My living room used to look like that just last year, but I went with a new color scheme for the New Year.”

I turned toward the direction of the voice, surprised to see her face to face. She looked almost angelic . . . almost. There was a hint of mystery behind her eyes I couldn't figure out at the time, but now I know it was nothing but the damn devil. If I knew then what I know now.

“So, you're the artist? It is truly a pleasure meeting you. I must tell you that your work is absolutely wonderful. I'll be purchasing this one for my living room,” I said to her while shaking her hand. The skin of her palm felt like silk, and I could only imagine how her hands would feel on the rest of me.

“Thank you so much. I appreciate the patronage.” She blushed, looking away for a brief moment before resuming eye contact. I smiled to myself and turned my attention back to the painting on the wall.

“Listen, what are you doing after the demonstration? There's a café down the street, a few doors away. Maybe we can chat over an espresso,” Monica invited.

“That would be nice. I'll meet you at the entrance when it's all done.”

“That's fine, and don't worry about paying for this painting. I'll be sure that you get it before you go.”

“You don't have to do that. This painting costs five thousand dollars. I can't let you pay for that.”

“Did you forget I painted it? It wouldn't cost me anything,” she replied with a cute laugh that made me follow suit. I burned her smile into my memory at that moment.

“Okay, I'll meet you at the door.”

She said nothing. She walked away and began mingling with the other guests. I made my way to the door to avoid the crowd that was sure to come. There had to be nothing but ballers in here, because these painting were a grip, but all of the money made went to The Sanctuary, an organization that extended their hand to teenage girls who had been molested. It was a good cause that brought out plenty of supporters with big bucks. I saw the mayor of D.C. and his family there, as well as a few other bigwigs in political positions, and many members of the police force.

I wasn't waiting long before I saw her making her way through the crowd. We had yet to exchange names, so I couldn't call out to her. I waved my hands in the air until she saw me. Her smile blessed my eyes once again.

“You ready?” she asked as she pushed her way through the door.

“Yep, let's get out of here.”

We made light conversation on our way down to the café, and once we got inside we grabbed a table by the door. After our orders were placed, we were finally able to converse, exchanging names before we moved along in line.

She told me all about her life as an artist/photographer, and I actually remembered seeing some of the covers she did for
Essence, Sister2Sister,
and
Vibe
magazines. I wanted to ask her why she started The Sanctuary, but it was obvious she had been hurt coming up so there wasn't any need to go there.

I told her about my job as head chef at The French Quarters, and my dream of one day owning my own restaurant. My husband wouldn't allow me to work after our son was born, and I became a stay-at-home mom, but I didn't think she needed to know all of that. I let her know I was married, choosing to be up front about my status. It was obvious she was trying to get to know me on a personal level. I was open to all the possibilities.

“This is my son, Tyler, and my husband, Marcus.” I showed her a picture in my wallet from the days when we were a happy family.

When Marcus and I first got together he knew I was into women, and he was all for it as long as I brought them home so we could share. I figured we could do the same with Monica, but I didn't find out until much later from a friend of mine that Marcus already knew Monica before I did. That was the reason he purchased the ticket to the art demonstration. It was all a setup to get us together on his terms. I was the only one who didn't know about it.

Giving it to her straight, no chaser, I told her what my husband and I were into and that I thought she would be perfect for an evening of adult pleasure. She agreed, but only after I agreed to meet with her one-on-one beforehand. She said she didn't mind sharing me with my husband, but she wanted to see what I was about first. We set a date to meet the next night.

I knew Marcus wouldn't go for that, so I told him I would be out with a few girlfriends and I needed him to watch the baby. Of course he objected, stating that if I got to go out why couldn't he? It wasn't until I told him I'd see about bringing a woman home that he agreed.

I called the number Monica gave me and we set a time. I was to be at her house by eight that night and I was pulling up at seven fifty, eagerly knocking on her door.

We walked straight upstairs to her bedroom. We didn't waste time on formalities or anything like that. I knew why I was there, so we needed to make it happen. This girl could do things with her tongue that you would never believe unless you had a Monica experience yourself. I thought I was Spider-Woman, and it was obvious that Monica thought she was Spider-Woman, too, because every wall I climbed, she climbed up right behind me, never taking her tongue from my clit. I thought about my husband for all of four seconds before the next wave of orgasms came crashing down and wiped him from my memory. We tossed and turned and climbed all over each other for hours, causing me to miss my curfew.

When I returned home it was obvious that Marcus had been drinking. He staggered into the living room when I opened the front door. An empty Hennessy bottle was on the table. I moved to check on the baby, but he grabbed me by my neck and pinned me against the wall. The smell of his breath made me want to vomit, but I forced it down while trying to catch my breath at the same time.

“You were supposed to be in this house. Where were you, and why did you walk through my door by yourself?”

“I . . . I can't,” I attempted to answer him, but the tightening of his fist around my throat made it difficult to breathe and talk at the same time. At the very moment I thought I would black out, he let me go. I fell to the floor on my knees, gasping for air. The room spun around in circles for a while. I barely had time to recover when I saw stars from the impact of his fist connecting fiercely with the side of my face.

“Get on your knees,” he demanded, pulling me up by my hair. I obliged, if only to stop the stabbing pain shooting into my head from the grip he had on my roots. I didn't know how much longer I could take this abuse. Something had to give, and soon.

“Marcus, can you please let go of my head? I can't see.”

“You don't need to see to suck a dick. Just open your mouth.” I had no other choice but to do what he said. He forced his dick into my mouth repeatedly, causing me to gag on several occasions.

I did the best I could for the three minutes it took him to explode. He came so much a good amount of it shot out of my nose, and the rest I either swallowed or spit out. I spent the next minute or so sputtering on the floor trying to catch my breath. He left me there for dead, warning me not to come in late next time, and especially by myself. That was just one of the scenarios that pushed me closer to Monica, and ultimately led to his demise. I saw Monica a few times after that, and once we had the threesome we started hooking up even more. Of course, Marcus didn't like it, not believing the story I gave him about us just being shopping buddies. He would whip my ass, and she would heal my wounds. This went on for a few months until finally she got tired.

We had decided that my son and I would move in with her and be a family. By this time Marcus had already cracked one of my ribs, tried to slit my wrist, and had pulled a patch of hair out from the side of my head that I now covered with a weave track. They were threatening to fire me from The French Quarters. Between Marcus calling there a million times a day for absolutely nothing, and me missing days from work because I was hiding injuries, it just wasn't working out, and my life was spiraling downhill quickly.

Three more weeks went by and he punched me in my face for not having dinner done, breaking my nose in the process. That night Monica decided I would leave him. I went home to pack my stuff while he was at work, but he came home in the middle of me packing my son's stuff.

We were in the living room arguing back and forth because I was trying to leave. I had more than enough money in my checking account to start over, and decided I would just leave whatever belongings I had there. He wouldn't let me leave, and even after I grabbed my son to keep him from hitting me, he still continued to batter my body with wild blows from his heavy hands. I balled up in the corner to cover my face and the baby, and just when I moved to punch him in his private area, Monica burst in through the front door.

I can't remember what she said to him, all I knew was he moved in her direction to swing at her and she unloaded her gun into his face, afterward reloading and finishing him off. When she was done there was nothing left of his head.

I was devastated. Yes, I wanted him gone, but damn. I was stuck, literally. I couldn't move at first. The cries from my son brought me back to reality. I held his small body close to mine in an effort to quiet him as I stepped closer to my husband's dead body. The tears were uncontrollable as the reality of what happened set in.

“What did you do? Monica, what did you do?” I screamed after I sat the baby down in the crib. I couldn't believe he was gone. Now what would my son do for a father?

“What did I do? Bitch, I took you out of your misery.”

“Monica, you just killed a person. Do you know how much time you get for murder?”

“Tanya, you won't be in there long. I have connections who will have you out in no time. Just tell the police it was a break-in that went bad.”

“What do you mean
I
won't be in there long? I am not taking the rap for this. Fuck what you heard!” I was back on my feet and ready to beat Monica's ass. I wasn't doing time for anyone, damn the jokes. Who I look like, Boo Boo the Fool?

“Tanya, listen to what I'm saying to you. If I do the time, how can I take care of you? The most you'll spend is a few hours at the precinct for questioning. Call me when you get down there and I'll come get you. Okay?”

For some strange reason I believed her, and followed her instructions. I should have known she wasn't shit. When I got down to the precinct and tried to call, she didn't answer her phone. Yeah, she got me a bomb-ass lawyer, but I spent damn near four years in the bricks before she came for me. I was in there fighting bitches off, ending up with a damn scar on my face from some of them creeping up on me late at night trying to rape me. When I got out she laced me, but by then Shaneka told me she had a lot to do with Rico getting axed.

As Shaneka drove us home from Jazz's house that night I let my head rest on the seat while I tried to get my thoughts together. We'd lay low for a while until Monica had her baby. It was only right.

I looked over at Shaneka and watched her as she concentrated on the road. She had held me down from the first day we met, and I wasn't sure I would have made it without her. I owed my very sanity to her, and her patience. She made me complete, and her love was unconditional. She gave me exactly what I thought I got from Monica—love and attention. Monica's day was coming, and soon.

When we pulled up to the house I waited until she opened the door. We held hands as we walked up to the house, and once inside we connected as one in front of the fireplace. She scratched my itch and I scratched hers until the sun rose. Love definitely made things happen.

“Bring that nigga in here. It's time to end all of this right now.”

Jesus, Hector, and I had set up the block about three months ago to see what Arturo was up to. And now we finally had him where we wanted him. When we met back up that night, I have to say my feelings were hurt to find out that Rico trusted Arturo more than me, even though I was supposed to be his right hand man. I had asked Rico on many occasions to introduce me to his connect, just in case some shit went down, but he never did. Then I found out that this nigga, Arturo, done been to see him at least five times since Rico was done in.

Jesus and Hector had spent the last hour beating Arturo nearly to death. Killing him wouldn't get me the information I needed, so I had to keep him alive for at least a little while. They brought his bloodied body into the living room, sitting him in one of the kitchen chairs and securing his hands and feet to the arms and legs. Honestly, I don't think Arturo would've taken such a harsh beating had he gone one-on-one with them. Hector would have been an easy win for him, but Jesus would have definitely taken his life.

“So, Arturo, what do you have to say for yourself?”

It took him a minute to focus on me. I'm sure the room was spinning, no doubt from the multiple blows to his head. I'd decide later if I wanted him around. Dishonor meant death—no more, no less.

“Listen, Carlos, all I did was what Rico told me to do.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me to make sure that chick he was fucking with took care of his shit. I think her name was Monique or Monica or some shit like that. We went ring shopping and everything for her, man. He was really in love with her, and he was leaving Shaneka to the birds.”

“What did that have to do with his connect? How did you get to meet him?”

I was trying to put two and two together, but it wasn't making sense. I knew Rico had it bad for Monica from back in the day, and Shaneka was supposed to take her place, but I didn't think it was that serious. Yeah, he started to slip a little with the spending, but I knew Monica kept the jakes off him for a little while because she had connections. This nigga was riding around town like he was the fucking President of the United States or something, like his ass was untouchable. But I knew something had to be going down, so that's why I started to investigate as soon as shit started looking suspicious.

“Well, one time we went out shopping for a house for Monica and he told me how it was better to put a safe in her house and keep the money there, so if the cops ever searched the apartment they wouldn't find anything. That's how she got the cash, and all his shit. The day after he got locked up, she told me to help her move all of the stuff out before the cops came back, and as payback for helping her she'd take me to the connect to re-up on the supply.”

“So, she knows who the connect is?”

“Yeah, she directed me to the house and waited in the car while I handled business in his mansion. Rico said he couldn't trust you, that's why he never took you over there. He felt you were always trying to stick him.”

That hurt like hell to hear those words spoken out loud. Rico and I have been to hell and back. I shot dudes dead for him on more than one occasion. Before all of that we came from grade school together, sharing clothes and barely eating. I loved him like a brother, even though I felt like I needed to take charge, but I would've never brought harm to his doorstep.

“What happened when Rico got to jail?”

Arturo broke it down how once word was out that Rico got knocked, Juan had his boy who was on the same block as Rico set shit up while everyone was at dinner. Rico was sleeping with one of the guards for phone privileges, and he called me to find out what the word was on the street. He had suspicions that Monica had set him up, and I remember vividly the day he called me with his concerns.

 

 

I believed every word Arturo said because that was exactly how it went down. Now all I had to do was get him to take me to the connect and he could be done with. I was considering sparing his life, but I wasn't sure yet. After all, he just did what the boss told him to do, but now he needed to understand that there was a new sheriff in town, and things were about to change.

“So, where is the connect?”

“In D.C., right outside the White House. He works for the President. His coke is flown directly to him without any interruptions. The staff says nothing. It's like everyone is in on it.”

“Arturo, this is what I'm going to do for you. If you are willing to work with me I'll spare your life. Understood?”

All he could do was nod. He was badly beaten, and I knew a good sleep would do him justice. I walked over and stood directly in front of him so he could see that I meant business. Hector and Jesus completed the circle around him. We all looked at each other before I spoke again.

“Okay, Hector and Jesus will take you to the hospital. I will give you a few days to get yourself together. Come see me Friday morning. We'll go see the connect and get down to business. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Oh, and Arturo, I have the world watching you right now. Don't try to skip town or you really will end up missing.”

I drove around the block, then I made my way over to Yolanda's house. She was supposed to get information for me from Monica, and since I hadn't heard a peep from her, I took it as she wasn't moving until I came up off that shopping spree.

Turning my car toward South Philadelphia, I got to Yoyo's house a half hour later.

Checking my hip to make sure my heat was secure, I parked my car in front of Yoyo's apartment and moved to her door swiftly, looking over my shoulder on the way up the path. No telling who was watching. Even your own will do you in. I knocked on her door like I was the police, and turned my back to it just in case someone tried to walk up on me. Since Rico's demise, fools had been testing me.

“Who is it knocking on my door like the damn police?” Yolanda yelled from the other side of the door, obviously upset. I didn't give a fuck.

“It's C-Dogg, mami. Open the door.”

I heard some movement on the other side, and a few minutes later she came to the door dressed in a cut off tank top and boy shorts. My mouth dropped open at the sight of her ass bouncing as she made her way back to the couch. Yoyo had a lot of legs, and I wanted to dive between them.

“Carlos, when did you start popping up unexpected? Did you lose your phone or break your finger?” Yolanda knew she looked good, and I could tell from the look on her face that she was really feeling herself. Her hair was laid, so she must have just gotten it done. And the polish on her fingers and toes looked fresh. I acted like I didn't notice either as I took a seat on the couch across from her and turned up the television.

“It's nothing like that, ma. I was just wondering what was up with you since I haven't heard anything from you in a while. Did you get that information I asked for?”

“That would be no.”

“Why not? Yoyo, you know how important this is to me.”

“Did you come up off that shopping spree? I think not, because I don't see any new boots in my closet.”

“Come on now, mami. You know it's never that serious with me coming up off a few thousand dollars. I just need to know that you're going to ride for me, that's all.”

“You know I'll ride for you, C. I just don't think I feel the same love coming from your end.”

“Yolanda, you're killing me. Tell me, what I need to do to make this happen. Tell papi what to do.”

“Take me to get those Manolo boots I saw, and maybe we can talk.”

“Damn, Yoyo, is it like that?”

“Oh, it's like that.”

“Okay, listen to me. We can go out right now if you'd like. I just need you to call your sister.”

“You know damn well by the time I get dressed and make a call the malls will be closed, and you ain't taking me all the way to New York on a Tuesday night, and you ain't fuckin', so no.”

I got up off the couch and walked over to her, dropping to my knees in front of her. She kept eye contact, refusing to be the first to turn away. She was looking good. Her lips were all shined up the way I liked them, and her nipples stood at attention through her cutoff tank top, the skin on her belly was smooth like a baby's ass. Forcing myself to stay focused, I made my eyes connect with her eyes and tried to talk to her sensibly. I could definitely see myself making Yoyo a steady, but she had to clean herself up. I couldn't have her around me, knowing she was liable to sniff up half a brick at any given moment.

“Yolanda, listen to what I'm saying. If you call your sister right now and see what's up, I'll take you anywhere you want to go this week. We can leave in the morning, but we have to be back by Friday. I have some things I need to take care of.”

“So, what will you do for me right now?”

I said nothing. I just simply moved the crotch of her panties to the side and began making my acquaintance with her clit. I had to hold her down by her legs to keep her still after she eventually took one of her legs out of her panties. I had Yolanda's legs trapped under me so she couldn't move, and she was trying hard to get away. Switching between sucking on her clit and pushing my tongue in and out of her she was losing her damn mind. She begged for the dick, but I refused to give it to her. I needed her to handle business for me, and she could get broke off after that. A half hour later she was on the phone with Monica getting the scoop.

“Listen, before I dial her number I need you to promise me one thing.”

“What now, Yoyo?” I asked her while I washed her essence off my face. She was a wet one.

“I know Monica has probably gotten into some shit she had no business being in, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“What is it already, damn!”

“You have to promise me you won't hurt her. She's pregnant with my niece or nephew, and she needs to be here for her child. I don't want him or her to go through what Monica and I went through as kids.”

“You have my word. I just need her to give me some info on Rico; then I'll call all the dogs off, even Shaneka.”

“What beef Shaneka got with my sister? Yo, I know she don't want none. That bitch ain't as crazy as she thinks she is.”

“Calm down. She thinks Monica is carrying Rico's baby, that's all.”

“Okay, but I already told you she's not, so make her aware of the situation before I have to.”

“Yoyo, you have my word. Shaneka will not be a problem. Just call your sister, please.”

She looked at me like she was leery, but after I started counting out hundred-dollar bills on the countertop, she slowly began dialing the numbers to her sister's residence. Yoyo was really taking me through it this time, but I had to do what I had to do.

“Hey, Monica, how's my little niece or nephew doing?”

I couldn't hear what Monica was saying to her on the other end of the phone, so I just sat back and tried to read Yoyo's facial expressions. I listened as they chatted about baby shit and some kind of mural that Monica had completed for the baby's room. They talked about baby furniture and all that jazz. Monica must have promised her something because she started smiling. I started taking back hundreds, making her face frown up. She gestured for me to hold up.

“So, did you hear more about Rico?”

I wasn't sure what Monica said, but I knew it wasn't good when Yolanda's face frowned up. I wasn't in the mood for no bullshit until I heard Yolanda tell Monica to grab her cell phone and call the ambulance.

“Don't worry, sweetie. Your water just broke. I'll hold on. Just call nine-one-one so someone can come get you. I promise I won't hang up.”

For the next twenty minutes I listened to Yolanda as she coached Monica. This bitch was about to have a baby, and I needed some information from her. I'd be calling Tony the locksmith sooner than expected. I wouldn't ransack her house, but I would be paying it a visit very soon.