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Giovanni
PLAYLIST: ? TERRIBLE THING - AG ?
“You seen Falynn around?”
Louis is at the bar along with C.J. Both guys shake their heads. “Nope, haven’t seen her, Boss. Is something wrong?”
I don’t answer them. I maneuver through the big room now filled with family chitchatting. Cousin Alonzo puts an arm around me and tries to talk sports, but I shrug him off and keep looking. Falynn’s nowhere in sight.
Juliana said she hasn’t seen her since earlier. The two shared a drink in the kitchen and chatted about something or another. Julianna swears it went well, and that she didn’t say anything to upset Falynn. So then why has my woman gone missing?
Claro tries to snatch me up into his den for another talk, but his lecture can wait for a later time. It’s more important that I find Falynn. As I wander down the hall on the main floor, once again it’s evident how this girl has me wrapped around her finger. I’m seeking her out like some lost puppy dog!
Fuck, this is pathetic.
Relief pours over me the second I see her, easing up the tension in my muscles. She’s coming out of the guest bathroom. I’m over here acting like a pussy-whipped jackass, and she’s over here powdering her nose, or whatever it is women do on bathroom breaks.
Sliding an arm around her, I kiss her cheek. “Everything all right with you? You went MIA. I was about to send out a search party.”
Sherecoilsfrom my touch, but doesn’t utter a word.
The hard lines on my face are back. I stop and glare. “What’s the matter with you? Did I fuck something up and not know it?”
“Did you tell him?”
“Tell who what?”
“You know who! Did you tell him I’m some prostitute?!” she demands.
I look over my shoulder, left and right, in case anyone overhears. Her voice carries and the house is full. Nobody’s around as far as I can tell, but this isn’t a good spot for an argument—and it seems she’s sure as hell set on having one. I grab her arm and pull her into the nearest room.
We wind up in Claro’s game room. It’s nothing but another tacky display of his wealth and connections. Nothing on the walls except sports memorabilia he’s paid an arm and a leg for. Boxing gloves signed by Muhammad Ali himself. Photographs of him and Joe Montana at the 1984 Super Bowl. Also autographed. A VIP fan jersey awarded to him by Shaquille O’Neal years ago. La-Z-Boy leather recliners facing a gigantic HD smart TV and a kitchenette for making drinks and snacks on game days.
“Answer me!” Falynn says once inside.
“Let’s get one thing straight. I answer what I want when I want, understand?” I put up a warning finger, holding on to my mantle as boss regardless of how I feel about her. “If you’re talking about Claro, I didn’t say a word about you—”
“He knew my whole name! He knew… he knew…” Her breath catches, and she stops mid-sentence. Suddenly, she looks like she’s about to cry.
My alpha tough-guy shit goes out the window. I grab on to her hands to bring her closer. “What’d that piece of shitcabronsay? He do something stupid?”
“Hepropositionedme, Gio. Like I’m for sale.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Claro’s never had a way with women, despite what his delusions lead him to believe. If he’s not smacking strippers on the ass and getting hauled out by security, he’s catcalling women on the block, or screaming at Julianna about his mistresses.
Claro has old school views. Which means he treats women with little to no regard.
I’m no saint, and neither are most men. But I like to think I’d be smarter than bragging to the woman I’ve married that I’m fucking three other girls on the side.
“Did he touch you? Is that what happened?”
“Gio…”
“Tell me.”
“I’m not telling you, because I know what you’ll do. You’ll go out there and break his hand… or some other body part. I don’t think ruining your uncle’s coming home celebration is a good impression, do you?”
“Impression? Who gives a fuck about impressions?”
