“I promise you can trust me. I promise to just talk to Mia and Chanel, especially my sister. I think she feels as though I’ve abandoned her,” I tried my best to plead my case. Buddha’s eyes flew open. Judging by his expression, I could tell I said too much. My mouth snapped shut.
“What did I just say?” Realizing that I had no choice but to shut up, I moved away from him and lay on my back as I stared at the ceiling. I felt his eyes on me, but I ignored him.
“Now you got an attitude?” I acted as if I didn’t hear him, just kept staring at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen. I guess Buddha didn’t appreciate the fact that I didn’t acknowledge him. The next thing I knew, he switched his position and climbed on top of me. I gasped in shock because I was not expecting his reaction. I glared up at him as he glowered down at me.
“You don’t hear me talking to you?” He asked, taking his right hand, he wrapped it around my neck. I narrowed my eyes, always ready to be defiant. Using his knee, he placed it between my thighs and slowly pried my legs open. His fingers squeezed a little tighter around my neck as he began lowering himself onto me.
“You always have a fucking attitude. Always have something smart to say to me,” my mouth parted slightly when I felt his dick easing inside of me.
“Mmmm, sssss,” I moaned and then grimaced as he stretched me out. The walls of my pussy protested because I was still very much in pain.
“Yeahhhh, that’s what you like,” he said as his hips began thrusting forward. This time, there was no taking his time. I was being fucked as though I was being punished. “You like to start shit and then get fucked,” he grunted as he pressed into my neck a little more. I licked my lips as I enjoyed the feeling of being choked and fucked while he talked me through it.
I had no idea where this Dior came from. I blamed Buddha; he brought out this side of me so easily. This nigga was right, I was about to start arguing with him first thing every morning.
“Yeah, fuck me just like that,” I begged before he covered his mouth roughly with mine, our tongues wrapped around each other’s, moving with the same rhythm of his strokes. This time, when he was done with me, I’d be sure to close my eyes and go right to sleep.
Chapter Seven- Snow
“I can’t believe your brother is really married,” Ciara said before she placed her nose on the glass of the table and sniffed two lines of pure Colombian cocaine. Ciara closed her eyes and pinched her nose. She sat on the sofa opposite me, in her bra and underwear.
Resting her head back on the sofa, she got quiet as her high slowly crept in. I still wore my suit from my brother’s wedding. I didn’t take any cocaine because I needed to have a clear head. I had to sit and wait for Ciara to be completely knocked out before I could make my move.
I stared at Ciara and felt nothing. There wasn’t a day that went by that I wished I’d never gotten married to this woman. When we first met, she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen in my fucking life.
My father owned many businesses. This was how we washed our dirty money. We would use our legitimate businesses as a front for all the illegal money we acquired.
One of the businesses my father started was a nightclub. I pushed Tomasso to start the club because I wanted to run it alone. In those days, I wasn’t on drugs, I was an upstanding model citizen and shit. That all changed the night Ciara walked into the club with her friends and her boyfriend. The Belladonna Club was in full swing that night. I was walking around, making sure everyone was having a good time, when I noticed one of the bouncers arguing with a small group.
Quickly, I made my way over to assess the situation. The group consisted of two women and two men. Ciara caught my eye right away. She wore a very short black dress with a neckline that plunged so low, it stopped in the middle of her stomach. She reminded me of Doja Cat, the singer, just a slightly darkerversion. Her ginger-colored hair stopped at her shoulders, framing her pretty face.
“What’s the problem, Fabricio?” I asked the burly Italian bouncer.
“I got word of someone doing drugs in the men’s and women's bathroom. I found these four with this on them,” Fabricio held up two small packets with cocaine. I frowned, taking it from him before looking at the foursome.
“Drugs aren’t allowed in my club,” I informed them, giving the drugs back to Fabricio. I looked at all four before my eyes settled on Ciara. I remember being so disappointed that she was a coke-head.
“You four need to leave and never fucking come back here,” I ordered them, pointing at the club’s exit. I was about to turn and be on my way, Fabricio would be able to deal with these misfits. Before I made a single step, somebody grabbed my arm. I turned to see it was Ciara. I recall she had such a puppy dog expression in her eyes. She asked if I didn’t mind her using the bathroom before she left. I agreed and walked her over to use the restroom.
All it took was ten minutes, and Ciara had me believing that she didn’t know her friends and boyfriend brought cocaine with them. Ciara gave me her number before leaving the club that night. After that, she came frequently, always letting me know when she’d be there. I guess she broke it off with her boyfriend because we spent a lot of time together, and I swore I was in love. Ciara didn’t expose her drug habit to me for the first couple of months.
She played her part, acted right, and had me believe that doing drugs was not her thing. So, how did she manage to get a nigga hooked? It happened one night, Ciara and I had just had sex, and we were lying on my bed. She told me she had weed forus to smoke. I agreed, not thinking anything of it. What I didn’t know was that Ciara had laced it with cocaine.
That first taste of white powder mixed with weed had my heart racing, my pulse thumping, and my mind floating on cloud nine. I remember asking Ciara what was in the weed because I knew she'd put something in it. She laughed, telling me to relax and enjoy this new high. I was pissed off at her for doing something like that. I kicked her ass out of my house, telling her I wanted nothing to do with her ass.
However, the thing about smoking weed laced with cocaine is that shit quickly turns you into an addict. All you’ll want is more and more. Before I knew it, I was calling Ciara, asking her to bring more of the exact weed I’d kicked her out of my house for. Obviously, it didn’t take long to navigate from lacing my weed with cocaine to snorting lines.
Ciara introduced me to cocaine, and I’d been trying to kick that habit ever since. Ciara and I were married before my parents, and Buddha found out I was hooked on cocaine. They found out the first time I OD. My parents flew out of town, Ciara and I had a few people over at my house. Things got out of hand, and the next thing I knew, I woke up hooked up to machines in a hospital room.
Ciara found me on the bathroom floor. She called Buddha. When he came to the house and saw all the drugs, he demanded to know where I had gotten cocaine. Ciara did what she did best: she lied. She told Buddha she had no idea where it came from. He had no choice but to wait until I had woken up in the hospital. Buddha drilled me, asking repeatedly why, when he got to my house, everyone was stoned, and that he saw drugs just about everywhere.
I was already considered a screwup in my family’s eyes; it was no secret that Buddha was the favorite son. Admitting that I had been using was no big deal to me. My brother wasvery disappointed, I could tell by his facial expression. He didn’t need me to say that Ciara was the one who introduced me to cocaine. Right there, Buddha’s dislike for Ciara began. When my parents found out that I was on drugs, the shit really hit the fan. Tomasso threatened to put me out of the will. My mother nearly killed Ciara with her 9mm. My father had to convince my mother that Ciara wasn’t worth it.
Tomasso made me check into rehab. I would remain clean for a while, but everything would just start all over again. How could I get clean when my wife was snorting lines right before my eyes? Everyone wanted me to divorce Ciara, but I didn’t see the point. My father didn’t see me as of any value; his favorite person was Buddha. What would divorcing Ciara prove? That I was a failure at yet another thing. So much to my parents' dismay, I remained a married man to a woman they disliked. Not only was I addicted to cocaine, but I stayed married to the woman who encouraged my habit by getting high with me. Besides, according to my father, Ricci men don’t get divorced.
Now, as I sit here in my living room looking at Ciara, knocked out from two lines she just snorted. I realize that being divorced and getting away from this bitch is the best thing that I can do. As the years passed, my aspirations slowly changed. I didn’t want to be the son that my parents couldn’t boast about. I no longer wanted to depend on drugs to get by on a daily basis. In fact, I wanted to be a father one day, have at least two kids, maybe even three. I sure couldn’t do that if I were getting high all the time, and I for damn sure couldn’t conceive with a female who snorted cocaine more than she drank water.
I rubbed my eyes and exhaled softly, knowing I needed to try harder to become the man I knew I could be. A buzzing in my pants pocket broke me out of my thoughts, and I quickly pulled my device out. When I saw who was calling, I got up and walked away to the kitchen to take the call.
