Luxury Tax by T. Styles

Author:T. Styles [Styles, T.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Urban, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary, United States, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00EHZK6SA
Publisher: The Cartel Publications
Published: 2013-08-12T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 5

Gerron

When we walked into the house her phone rang again and she answered it. I wanted her to ignore that shit because it seemed like every time she picked up the phone, she had bad news.

“Hello?” She exhaled flopping on the sofa.

She looked frightened.

Here comes the bullshit.

So I walked into the kitchen and poured us another drink, because I know after the call she would need it.

“Mr. Claremont, I still haven’t heard anything about Leona, I really am so sorry.” She paused taking the drink from me. She took a few modest sips before swallowing the whole cup. “Trust me, if I hear anything you’ll be the first person I call.”

When she hung up the phone I sat next to her and she started crying.

“You ‘aight?” I asked.

"I don't understand why all the shit is happening to me! Today has to be the worst day of my life outside of the day when they took my baby away. And then….” She sobbed harder, “and then Milli dumped me!"

"That nigga ain’t gonna leave you, Ginger so don’t worry about that. He just talking shit right now.”

“How you know?”

I didn’t.

“If he a real nigga, he’d be a fool to let you go over some dumb shit, Ginger. Ya’ll been together too long.”

“I wish I believed you but he’s been acting different lately. And now Mr. Claremont asking me ‘bout where his daughter is again, and me and Nicky beefing over some bullshit that wasn’t my fault.” She cried harder. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Shit gonna be cool, Ginger. You gotta take shit easy though. You taking on too much at once.”

Although I hate seeing females cry, I'm not the best nigga to console 'em either. I'm a gun-toting dude from Kentland, and all I think about twenty-four-seven is getting paper. But here I am feeling like there's nothing more I’d rather do than make her problems go away. I’m ‘sposed to be on my way outta Maryland by now, so why am I still here?

“I…I need another drink,” she said moving toward the kitchen before her body went limp to the floor, and she’s crying again.

I put my drink down, lifted her up and her head fell against my chest. Her body is damp and warm from being caught in the rain. Walking her back over to the couch, I tried to place her down but she gripped me tighter.

“It’s going to be ‘aight, Ginger. You gotta be strong like you been,” I said real slowly. I tried to place her down again but she still ain’t let me go.

“Hold me,” she sobbed. “Just for a little while. Please.”

“I got you,” I reassured her.

For whatever reason, her vulnerability turned me on. I'm so use to shawty cussing me out, that I didn't stop to think that she might have a sensitive side. I tried my best to prevent my dick from getting hard but the shit wasn’t working. If she stayed in my arms two seconds longer, it was gonna be a wrap, and I was going to be inside of her body.

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