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He quickly texted: WIFE. GOTTA GO. TTYL
Persia would know not to reply back. They understood each other’s boundaries and relationships. She too was involved—happily as she would say. In fact, she was due to be married sometime next year.
Krista tossed her phone back into her purse, then shot Kendall an evil eye.
“Okay, baby,” he finally said to his wife. And then he quickly deleted the entire text, before powering off his cell and sliding it down into his front pocket. He leaned over and kissed his wife on her pouty lips. “Whatever you say.”
Three
“Why the hell are you on the phone with that bitch right now, Isaiah, huh?” LaQuandra hissed as she dragged her carry-on onto the luxurious aircraft, The Pleasure Chest. A ninety-foot-long Gulfstream G500, with enough space to accommodate twenty passengers.
“She doesn’t need to know shit about . . .”
Isaiah ignored his wife. She stayed tripping and talking dumb shit. Fuck what she was talking, his BM—baby mother—needed to know he’d be out of the country for a minute, and that he’d only be accessible via email (one of the rules for couples taking part in the retreat) if something popped off regarding his teenaged son, Isaiah Jr.
So fuck what she was popping shit about.
He caught the eye of a brown-skinned woman who looked up from her book, The Wait, and nearly frowned as LaQuandra breezed by her seat. LaQuandra gave the woman the evil eye as she proceeded to an empty set of seats on the other side of the spacious cabin.
Good, Krista thought as the loudmouthed woman walked by. She didn’t want that in back of her, all up in her ear with all that negative energy the whole flight. She cursed herself for not bringing her Essential oils to ward off negative energy; that one there needed an exorcism, Krista mused, before catching the eye of Isaiah.
Isaiah offered her an apologetic smile as he strolled behind LaQuandra, while he listened to his BM on the other end of the phone run her mouth nonstop. LaQuandra and his BM were more alike than not when it came to not knowing when to shut the fuck up.
Krista shifted in her seat. Isaiah was handsome, Krista thought as she returned a smile of her own, one meant to be more sympathetic than friendly.
She decided she’d seen enough and returned to the page in her book.
“And why is you gonna be gone for so long with that dogged-face bitch, anyway?” Isaiah’s BM asked. “I know that flat-ass ho ain’t ever gonna clap her ass cheeks around that big thick dick the way I do.”
Isaiah shook his head. “Cass, chill with that shit,” he whispered. “You always tryna . . .”
“Isaiah, did you hear what the fuck I said?” LaQuandra said in a staged-whisper as she slung her carry-on into the overhead compartment. She waited for Isaiah to come closer and then snatched his cell phone from his hand. “My husband has to go. Don’t call. Don’t text. Don’t fucking bother him, or us, unless it’s an emergency.”
Isaiah didn’t even try to take the phone from her. It was useless. He simply repositioned his wife’s car
ry-on in the overhead bin, then slid his carry-on inside, before closing it shut.
“Coon bitch, boom!” his BM snapped loud enough for Isaiah to hear through the phone. “Eat my ass, LaQuandra. He might be off with you, but he’ll still be thinking about all this big fluffy ass I shook in his—”
LaQuandra removed the phone from her ear and ended the call. Then she threw Isaiah’s cell phone at him. “I know you did not fuck that bitch last night when you dropped little Isaiah off.”
He sucked his teeth. “Quandra, chill with the dumb shit, a’ight. No we didn’t fuck. Damn.” He’d only eaten her pussy, then tongued out her ass. So technically he wasn’t lying. And lying by omission didn’t count.
Did it?
“Well, you sure as hell haven’t been fucking me,” she said nastily.
Isaiah cringed, glancing around the aircraft’s cabin. The last thing he wanted was for the two other couples to hear LaQuandra’s big-ass mouth. Too late. They’d heard it all.
He shot her a hot glare. “Bring the volume down.”
LaQuandra sucked her teeth. “My volume is down. But if you want me to turn it all the way up, you know I will.”
“Yeah, okay,” Isaiah said, taking a seat across from his wife. “Whatever you say, Quandra. Just sit the fuck down and use your damn quiet voice.” Before I punch your fucking teeth out.
Roselle glanced over at Isaiah, and smirked, giving him a head nod. Isaiah did the same, then shook his head, causing Roselle to chuckle. Roselle’s wife, Brenda, gave him a look, then made a face, before dipping her gaze back down to the Ebony magazine article she was reading on her iPad.
Isaiah spotted a sleek bar near the back of the aircraft and swallowed the cotton swelling in the back of his mouth. Shit. He needed a drink.
