A Day in the Life (5 page)

A DAY IN THE LIFE

EXCERPT FROM “FLAWLESS: A STREET LOVE”

“Damn…You lookin’ good,” Cool said, pulling Kimberlyn Lopez into a firm hug.

Holding onto his baby’s mother, he relished the way her firm, curvy body felt in his embrace. Tossing the correctional officers a few dollars to let him touch his woman was well worth every penny; and Cool didn’t miss the opportunity to squeeze her large soft ass before they separated.

At 5”5, Kimberlyn was the closest thing to perfection. Smooth medium-beige skin, olive green eyes, and a sexy coke bottle shape she was the whole entire package and then some. Born to a Salvadoran mother and African-American father, Kim was blessed with the best of both worlds.

Long flowing jet black hair stopped inches above her round, plump booty; and the faint beauty mark on her cheek only added to her sex appeal.

Cool hated to think about his soon-to-be wife keeping time with some other nigga while he was locked up, yet she’d never given him any reason to doubt her before. Since day one, she’d been his rider.

Kim was only twenty when Cool scooped her up and showed her how a real nigga got down. At the time, she was living in Decatur, waiting at the bus stop in her Wendy’s uniform.

Ever the suave, charismatic type, Cool pulled alongside her in a clean Jaguar S-type. Back then he was breaking some serious bread working as second in command for a well-known drug Lord in Atlanta.

Although most women threw themselves at Cool because of who he was affiliated with, there was something about Kim that drew him to her. Truth be told, he’d circled the block many times before prior to him finally speaking. Apart of him figured she was a little out of his league, but he couldn’t deny his attraction to a working woman.

After throwing a little game and a couple compliments her way, Kim eagerly climbed inside his ride and the rest was history. 

              “Speak for yourself,” Kim smiled, returning to reality. She took a seat at the stainless steel table across from Cool. “Looks like you’ve been getting pretty swoll’.”             

              Chuckling softly, Cool took a seat across from her. “Hell yeah. Ain’t shit to do but lift in dis mufucka.”

              Kim studied the love of her life as he went on about his workout regimen, the inmates he met and took under his wing, and his plans of climbing the ranks in the drug game when—and if—he was released.

              At 6”2, Christopher “Cool” Williams was every woman’s fantasy, and every girlfriend’s nightmare. With smooth caramel skin, hazel eyes and a toned physique, Cool was the typical pretty boy slightly rough around the edges. The small crescent shaped scar over his left eye, and bullet wound scar on his abdomen definitely suggested such.

              You’d think a seven year stretch in Jackson Correctional would evoke some common sense in him. But all Cool could do was talk about his niggas and getting back on. After several minutes of listening to her fiancee go on about the very thing that landed him in prison. Kimberlyn finally snapped.

              “I drove damn near four hours to get here, Cool,” she reminded him. “You’d think you could ask about your son at least once.”

              Cool guffawed before leaning forward. “Damn girl. You ain’t give a nigga a chance,” he said. Truthfully, he would’ve never asked if it weren’t for her reminding him. He was about as successful in the fatherhood department as he was avoiding prison. Cool had dedicated his life to the hustle. All the other shit in between was just that. “How’s lil’ me doin’?” he asked.

              Smiling brightly, Kim went on to tell Cool that their son, Jordan was starting kindergarten in the fall. However, in mid-sentence, he rudely cut her off. “Aye, you got dat for me?”

              Kim’s mouth automatically fell open. Did this motherfucker really just interrupt me to ask about some damn drugs?

It was obvious that Cool didn’t care about her, their son, or what was happening in their lives. All he cared about was his precious reputation in the dope game.

              This nigga ain’t gon’ never change, Kim finally told herself. No matter how I hard I go for him, I’ll always come second.

              “Do I got that for you?” Kim repeated in skepticism. “Yeah, I got it…”

              Without warning, Kim stood to her feet and reached down the front of her jeans.

              Cool’s eyes immediately shot open in surprise at her antics. “Aye! What da fuck is you doin’?”

              “Take yo’ fuckin’ dope. I can’t do this shit with you no more!” Kim said, launching an eight-ball at him.

              “Yooo! Chill!” Cool told her. He quickly grabbed the tiny baggie off the floor before the C.O. noticed.

“I’m done,” Kimberlyn said, turning to leave.

Cool quickly latched onto her forearm, halting her in her tracks. “Aye, what’chu doin’? What’s all this? Where this coming from?”

Tears pooled in Kim’s eyes as she fought to control herself. From her peripheral vision she could see the other visitors looking at her strangely. She was making a scene, but Cool had a tendency of upsetting her publicly.

Back when he was free, it was the same sad song. Cool took her through hell and high water with his side chick drama and dominating ways. In order to ensure she stayed, he spoiled her endlessly. All the designer wear she owned, and all the newest cars she pushed. Yet after Cool’s imprisonment all that quickly changed.

Most of his savings went to legal fees, and Kimberlyn was left struggling to take care of their home. To make matters worse, she also smuggled him in coke just so he could stay afloat while behind prison walls. Risking her freedom was not what Kim had in mind when committing to their relationship—but she loved Cool and was willing to do whatever for him. Truthfully, he was the only one who could convince her to do such reckless shit. Unfortunately, love had a way of making people do crazy things.

Tears streamed down Kim’s vanilla cheeks as she shook her head vehemently. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Cool,” she whispered.

“Hey…,” Cool gently tilted her chin up to face him. Even in his prison scrubs, he was just as handsome as the day they’d met. As a matter of fact, it was his pretty boy looks that reeled Kim in his clutches. “You gon’ do this as long as I need you to. ‘Cuz when I get on you gon’ be right up at the top with me, K. Come on now,” he told her. “Pull yaself together, bay.”

Kim sniffled and wiped away her oncoming tears. Mascara mixed with eyeliner stained her cheeks. She wanted so badly to believe Cool could take care of her and Jordyn…but with him being locked up, the only thing he could do was cause her to end up in the same situation. Kim knew it was time to finally grow up and put the careless shit to the side…If not for herself, for the sake of their son.

Kim slowly backpedaled away from Cool. Ironically, it felt like she was seeing him for the first time. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“K…?”

“I can’t.” And with that, Kim briskly left the visitor’s room.

“KIMBERLYN?!” she heard Cool scream after her.

Tears blurred her vision as she quickly exited the premises. Kim figured the sooner she put some distance between her and Cool the better. The minute she reached her 2013 Range Rover, she hopped inside and broke down crying hysterically.

1

Shayla Edwards scrolled through her Instagram timeline like she wasn’t on the clock at work. Instead of making herself readily available to customers, she was seeking entertainment through social media. Truthfully, it was the only way she could keep her mind off her recent nasty break up with her ex, Dexter.

At twenty-four, Shayla was forced to move back home after discovering him in bed with another bitch—and to further add insult to injury, a white one at that. One year and three months into a relationship, Shayla didn’t expect her world to come crashing down so soon.

Like every woman, she had high hopes of one day getting married. Yet instead of getting the storybook wedding she’d envisioned she got a harsh dose of reality.

Shayla was reading the latest gossip on
BallerAlert
when a smooth, deep voice spoke up from behind.

“Excuse me?”

The base in the stranger’s tone made the hairs on the back of Shayla’s neck stand. Quickly, she pocketed her iPhone and turned to face the customer awaiting her assistance.

“Sorry about that. How can I help…” Shayla’s voice instantly trailed off after realizing how handsome he was. “You...”

The gorgeous specimen standing in front of her chuckled lightly, revealing the cutest set of dimples. At 6”2, he had skin the color of cinnamon and low jet black hair. From the texture alone, Shayla assumed that he had some foreign ancestry in his lineage. Wide mahogany eyes were complimented by lashes that curled upward naturally, and his lips looked damn near kissable.

Shayla’s gaze quickly traveled from his perfect face down to his toned biceps. The royal blue Armour shirt he wore hugged his broad chest and outlined every muscle in his eight-pack. She also marveled at the impressive dragon tattoos that made his left arm’s sleeve. 

Shayla’s eyes traveled lower. She could tell through his track pants that he was slightly bowlegged—a secret weakness of hers for years.

Damn, he’s fine, her conscience screamed.

“So I just moved here from Cali two days ago and I’m lookin’ for a bed to purchase. You think you can help me with that…Shayla?” he asked, reading her nametag.

Shayla had to stop herself from staring too hard as she fought to keep her composure. The way her name rolled off his tongue made her tingle in places that shouldn’t have been aroused. “Um…I…of course,” she stammered. “Let me show you our section. It’s quite expansive.” As soon as she turned on her heel and walked off, he stole a view of her round derrière.

For the better part of his life, Romeo had always been attracted to ratchet chicks and the entertainment that came with them. However, he couldn’t deny that Shayla was attractive—even in her prescription frames.

Romeo always had a thing for chocolate girls so he was smitten at first glance. Even without a drop of makeup on, Shayla’s skin was flawless. There wasn’t an imperfection in site.  Long bone straight treks stopped an inch or two past her bra strap, and thankfully it was all hers. Her lips were his favorite feature; plump and primed.

Shayla had the whole girl next door look going on, but Romeo knew there was much more to her than the surface.

A nigga like me will turn her nerdy ass out, he arrogantly thought to himself.

Once Shayla reached the furniture section, she turned to explain the different features—but caught him looking dead at her ass. Immediately, her cheeks flushed because no guy had looked at her that way since Dexter.

Girl, get it together and do your job, Shayla scolded herself. “This is our Stockholm bed—priced at $899,” she continued. “It features natural materials such as solid wood and leather to ensure the bed ages beautifully.”

Romeo was only halfway interested in what she was saying by then. One track-minded, he was now more concerned with drawing down on her. He’d been in Atlanta two whole days and had yet to have any real fun. As usual, business was a top priority.

“The one next to it is the Bekkestua—priced at nearly $2000. It features a beautiful button-tufted headboard and is very comfy to relax in while watching TV.”

Romeo slowly made his way over towards the luxury bed. “Is that right?” he asked, taking a seat on it. Using the tips of his fingers, he pushed down on the mattress to see how sturdy it was.

Shayla tried her best not to notice the elephant imprint in his track pants. Lord, Jesus see me through this, she told herself.

“It comes with the mattress, right?”

Shayla literally had to tear her gaze away from the bulge in his pants to focus. “Uh—yes. Yes, it does.”

              Standing to his feet, Romeo reached inside his track pants’ pocket. “Shit, run it,” he said, pulling out a thick wad of cash. “I’ll take the bed…and ya number too.”

2

              Shayla was on her way back to her parent’s townhome in Atlantic Station when her cellphone suddenly rang. Believing it was Romeo, she anxiously pulled her iPhone out her satchel. During the process, some fellas in a nearby Expedition honked at her as they drove by.

              Damn. I need a car, Shayla thought, loathing the unwanted attention. Luckily, her parents didn’t live too far from her work place. But Shayla would be lying if she said she didn’t miss having a whip. Back when she and Dexter were together, they shared his BMW 3 Series. However, the minute Shayla broke things off, she lost that leisure.

              Much to her surprise, it wasn’t Romeo calling. It was her best friend Kimberlyn. He didn’t take me as the type to call on the first day anyway, Shayla convinced herself.

              Tucking her long hair behind her ear, she answered before the line went to voicemail. “Hello?”

              “Hey, bitch. What you doing right now?” Kim playfully asked. From her end, it sounded like she was driving.

              “Just leaving work. On my way back to the house,” Shayla told her.

              Kim glanced at the time displayed on the radio and noticed it was 6:00 p.m.

              “What about you?” Shayla asked.

              “Girl, just left Jackson from seeing Cool’s ass. Bitch, believe me when I say, I’m done with that nigga. I ain’t accepting no calls. There will be no more visits. I’m just cool on him. Period.”

              Shayla laughed as she headed to the front door of her townhome. Her fifty-two year old father was mowing the lawn while soaking up the sun on that beautiful day. Had he not been so physically fit, Shayla would’ve been worried. But her father was a proud man who firmly believed there was no such thing as being ‘too old’.

              “Girl, you say that every other month,” Shayla reminded Kim, waving too her father. “I mean, hell, you were the one telling me it wasn’t gonna be easy holding your man down in prison. What changed now?”

              “That’s just it. Change,” Kim emphasized. “That nigga ain’t gon’ never change.”

              Shayla walked inside her home and immediately headed to her bedroom for some privacy. Now that she was living with her parents again, it came rarely. “You knew that already,” Shayla told her friend.

              For years Shayla had watched Cool drag Kimberlyn through hell and high water. And still, she stayed—even with all the late night creeping, side chicks, and physical and verbal abuse. Truth be told, Shayla had never cared for Kim’s fiancee, but she did respect his place in her life.

              “Ugh, I did. But I still believed there was hope,” Kim said. “But fuck all that. I’m trying to get out and do something tonight. Need to take my mind off the B.S. with him. You down?”

              Shayla kicked her off sneakers and plopped down on her full size mattress. It was a huge step down from the California king size canopy she once slept in with Dex. Yet it was also a valuable lesson when it came to rushing into some shit. After all, she and Dexter had only been dating three months before they hastily decided to move in together.

              Shayla blew out a long dramatic breath as she deliberated on her answer. “Girl, you know I don’t do that club shit.”

              “Grandma, you don’t do shit but sell Ikea,” Kim joked. “That’s why you need to come up out that house and kick it. Just me and you.”

              Shayla instantly perked up after hearing Kim’s friend, Nina wouldn’t be joining them. She liked her about as much as she liked Cool—which was virtually nonexistent. Though the two had never exchanged words, Shayla just didn’t care for Nina’s ratchet persona. She was loud, obnoxious, and an attention whore by nature.

              “Hmm…I guess…,” Shayla finally said after carefully considering it.

              “Cool! I’ll be there around ten.”