“You always been quick to apologize, even when I was in the wrong at times,” she recalled with a short laugh.
Apologizing was embedded in my nature. My last conversation with my mother before she passed was an argument. I fussed at her about her decision to stop treatment for her cancer. I wanted her to fight, while she was tired and ready to let go. I didn’t speak to her the following days, and she ended up passing away. I never got the chance to apologize for the way I expressed my pain and frustrations, and that shit haunted me.
“That’s just who I am.”
“Well, I would like to apologize to you. I never really took accountability for the way I handled our relationship,” she said as a look of sorrow etched her face.
I ordered another shot of whiskey before tossing it back. “I ain’t tripping. We were young. I couldn’t give you what you wanted, so you threw in the towel.”
My relationship with Amina had always been turbulent. We fussed, fought, then fucked, just to repeat the cycle all over again. We said we loved each other, but I had to experience love with Jazzlyn to realize that what I had with Amina was nowhere near love. We just ran to each other because we were all we knew.
Amina had dreams of pursuing a career in radio. She had this big personality and wanted to share it with the world. She did some apprenticeships at a few radio stations in the city, but they never worked out. She got an opportunity to be a co-host on an upcoming hip-hop radio station out in Texas and took it. At the time, we were dating and getting into it with each other every damn day about what I wanted out of life. I was moving guns and making money, but shit wasn’t good enough to keep us from struggling. Plus, I was going through it with my mother’s cancer.
When Amina decided to leave, I felt like she was leaving me during the hardest time in my life. It made me bitter toward her for a while, but I eventually let that shit go. I locked in, and twoyears later, met Jazzy and elevated my hustle. Amina ending our relationship and moving away was really a blessing in disguise. Had she stayed, I probably would’ve remained stagnant. She forced me to be uncomfortable and elevate myself.
“We were young, but I could’ve extended you more grace. You were dealing with your mom, and your dad wasn’t doing too well either. You really were doing the best you could with what you had, and I just always made it seem like it wasn’t enough.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Shit, it wasn’t enough for you, and that’s cool. No hard feelings.”
We kicked it at the bar for a couple hours. We shared memories about shit from our past when we were together. We fought a lot, but we always had a good time when shit was good between us. Before we could get cut off from the bar, we decided to wrap it up, and I closed the tab.
“Shit, what floor you on?” she asked as she led the way to the elevator.
“Fifteenth.” We waited together for the elevator before stepping inside together.
“Ahk, you’re fucked up,” she giggled.
I had my head leaned back against the elevator wall. My head was fucking spinning from the shots I had. I wanted to be out of my mind when I finally reached out to Jazzy. I knew it sounded fucked up, but to me, that would’ve been the only way I would be able to suppress my anger with her and have a conversation.
“Let me walk you to your room just so I know you made it.”
As we were being lifted up the building, I shook my head. “I’m straight, Amina.”
The doors opened, and I assumed it was my floor and was ready to hop off the elevator. It wasn’t until Amina pulled me back inside and let another set of guests come inside that I realized I was about to get off on the wrong floor.
“You’re definitely fucked up, Ahk.”
“Shit, maybe I am,” I mumbled.
We got to the fifteenth floor and stepped off the elevator. I told her my suite number, and she led the way. Alcohol was never my vice of choice because a nigga was a lightweight for real. I could smoke all day and still function, but drinking almost always had me on my ass.
I rummaged in my pocket for my key card. I tapped it against the sensor and the door opened.
“Lord, Ahk, let me help you.” She smacked her lips with a light laugh before she helped me into the suite.
Once I stumbled my way to the bed, I kicked off my sneakers and laid back. “Shit. ‘Preciate you for helping a nigga, Amina.”
I heard the sink running in the small kitchenette the room was equipped with. Moments later, she came to the side of the bed with a glass of tap water. “Here, drink this.”
I drank the water before tossing my arm over my eyes. I just needed a little minute to get my head to stop fucking spinning before I hit up my wife. While I waited for my dizziness to fade, I ended up knocking out.
I wasn’t too sure how long I was out, but my alarm wasn’t what woke me up. I blinked a couple of times and leaned up, only to find my dick halfway down Amina’s throat. She was sucking the skin off my dick while it was on soft. When I finally woke up, I couldn’t stop myself from bricking up for her.
“You’re up,” she seductively whispered after popping me out of her mouth.
“The fuck?”
“Just relax. I know how you like it, Ahk.” She took my dick down again. Her throat had always been fire, and she knew how to take dick down. Shit felt so good, it damn near felt like a crime to get her to stop. She had her jaws suctioned inward as she bobbed her head up and down. Spit pooled from her mouth anddripped down her chin as she worked her hands at the base of my dick and rubbed my balls.
