Retribution (5 page)

But that's neither here nor there, since I don't want him. Every time I see him, knowing that he's Jasper's right-hand nigga, I can't stop thinking, wondering, if somehow he was one of the niggas who was down in the basement with me, shoving his dick down in my throat. Although none of them that I can recall had his gym-ripped body, or a tattoo of their daughter on their forearm. Still, I wonder.

And the fact that Stax does his best to avoid me, and only comes around me when he's with Japser, makes him suspect. Makes me wonder how much of what went down with my kidnapping he played a hand in. I know he knows all about the dick-sucking rampage I was on. Jasper tells him everything.

Still, regardless of what he knows or whether or not he was down in that basement, he's never treated me indifferently or looked at me with disgust in his eyes. Nevertheless, I search my brain, replaying the horrible scenes in my head over and over, trying to see if any of those eyes peering through the slits of those black ski masks belonged to him.

I always come up blank.

The way to perdition requires traveling a long, dirty, ruthless road…

“Y
o, Pasha, real shit,” Jasper says, grabbing me by the arm as I'm walking out of Jaylen's bedroom. I've finished giving him his bath and finally gotten him to fall asleep. And now all I want to do is get out of these clothes, get in the shower, then crawl into my plush bed. My flight out of LAX was delayed due to heavy rains and air traffic congestion, or some shit. So we ended up landing in Newark almost four hours behind schedule. I'm exhausted and want to be left the hell alone. But, noooo, this nigga has other plans. He wants to be all up in my damn face, reeking of alcohol and weed.

Stay focused. Stay on script. His day is coming.

I snatch my arm back. “Why don't you take your drunk ass back downstairs with your company, and get out of my face? I'm not in the mood for your shit tonight, Jasper. I'm fucking tired.” I brush by him, heading toward the master suite. Of course the nigga's hot on my heels.

I've been home less than two hours and he's been on his bullshit from the moment I stepped through the door. The minute I drove through the electronic gates and pulled around the circular driveway and saw his car along with Stax's and three other niggas' cars,
I braced myself, knowing this nigga was going to be turned all the way up.

And he is.

“Yo, fuck them niggas. They know what it is. I ain't seen my muhfuckin' wife ‘n' son in almost a week. I missed my family, yo.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. And how many other bitches did you fuck while your so-called
family
was gone?” I ask, not that I give a fuck. Because truth is, this nigga can stick his dick in whatever lonely hole he wants. Shit, that's what his ass was doing any-damn-way throughout most of our relationship when I did care. So the only thing that's changed now is me not giving a fuck. Shit, I welcome another bitch to take his ass. I'll gladly help her pack his shit.

He huffs. “Aye, yo. Here you got wit' ya bullshit, Pash. Fuck them other hoes, yo.” He grabs the bulge in the front of his sweats. “You already know what it is. This dick is all yours.”

I roll my eyes, walking into our bedroom with him hot on my trail. He follows me into the master bathroom. “You stay talkin' slick at the mouth, yo. I'm tryna keep shit a hunnid wit' you ‘n' you wanna be on some ole other shit, yo. Seems like you ain't satisfied until I'm puttin' my fist in ya jaw. What you want, Pasha, huh? Me to have that shit wired for you, is that it, yo? You want a muhfucka to put his hands on you, don't you?”

I glare at him.

This nigga drains me, emotionally. Looking at him disgusts me. Staying with him after what he did to me is one thing. Sometimes it's like I'm having an out of body experience, like I'm aimlessly floating in time watching my life roll in slow motion. The sound-track of lies and deceit and resentment plays over and over in my head.
I
did this to me.
He
did this to me. But the fact that I still
married his ass screams crazy. And the truth is, I
am
fucking crazy!

Crazed for vengeance.

Crazed for his suffering.

Crazed with wanting to know who every last one of those niggas were he had violate me. It's all I think about. It's all I ever pray for.

Answers.

Retribution.

Opportunity.

Yet, nothing seems to come. Jasper refuses to tell me how he found out, or who told him, about what I was doing. The last time I asked him who told him, he told me not to worry about it. That it didn't matter. “All you need to know is that I have eyes ‘n' ears e'erywhere, yo. I'm watchin' you even when you think I ain't, Pasha. So you ain't ever gonna be slicker than me, yo. I love you, baby, real shit. But you fucked me over. And you hurt my heart, yo. But check this. I promise you, if you
ever
play me again, I'ma cut ya muthafuckin' pussy out ‘n' fuck ya pretty face up, baby, ‘n' make sure no one else ever wants to fuck wit' yo' ass again. Ya heard? Real shit. Let me find out you got another nigga's dick in ya throat ‘n' it'll be da last dick you swallow. I'ma break e'ery muthafuckin' bone in ya face, then have ya fuckin' neck cut out.”

I blinked. Tears rolled down my face as this nigga leaned in and stared me dead in the eyes and told me this shit. “Now stop all this cryin', yo. Shit's over.” He started kissin' my tears. Then gave me another icy stare. “And, Pash, if you open ya muthafuckin' mouth ‘n' tell anyone 'bout this shit,” he rubbed my pregnant belly, “I'ma get at da ones you love da most, yo; startin' wit' Nana. Then anyone else.” He kissed my stomach. “I'll take e'erything from you. Cheat on me again, yo.”

I gasped, grabbing my stomach. My heart sank. The idle warning
to harm my baby was there. The threat to hurt Nana was real. He knew how much Nana meant to me. How much she still means to me. And as bad as I didn't want to believe him, there was something in the way he said it and in the way that he looked at me that made me believe his every word. Besides, after what he had done to me, why would I not take him seriously?

“Fuck wit' me if you want, Pash. And you gonna learn.” He sealed it with a kiss on my lips, then said, “Now get some rest.”

Rest? How the fuck was I supposed to rest after he made those kinds of threats? Would he kill my baby? Nana? Would he beat my baby out of me? Would he beat Nana the way he'd beaten me?

I couldn't risk either.

Jasper knows I'd never call the police on him. Snitching isn't what we do. But sometimes I wish I had told the detectives what happened to me. That
he
had me kidnapped. That
he
orchestrated having me sexually violated.
He
did that shit to me. Maybe his black ass would be behind bars, rotting.

But that wouldn't do shit for me. I still wouldn't know what I needed, wanted, to know.

Truth is, ratting on his ass and seeing him go to prison would have been too easy. I want this nigga to pay, my way…on
my
terms. And he will. Not tonight though.

“Oh, so you gonna fuckin' ig a muhfucka now, right?”

I push out a heavy, aggravated breath. “Jasper, do whatever you feel; how's that for an answer?”

I turn my back on him. Start humming in my head, turning on the double showerheads in the glass-encased shower. I feel Jasper staring at me, hard, as I go about pretending he's invisible. I'm not arguing with this nigga, especially not when he's been drinking. My son is not going to be subjected to his craziness. Not tonight.

He yanks me by the arm, pressing me up against the wall. My
heart starts racing. He grabs at my belt buckle. “Take these muthafuckin' pants off, yo. I know you been fuckin' some other nigga while ya ass was out there in Cali, yo.”

The crazed look in his eyes tells me he is not going to get out of my face anytime soon unless I give into him.

“Nigga, you're crazy. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, yo. I'm crazy for yo' dumb ass. You got my dick crazy for this pussy. Now take these muthafuckin' shits off.” He yanks at my belt. “What you want, yo. A muhfucka to take this shit, huh?”

“So you're going to rape me, is that it, nigga?”

He scowls. “Go 'head wit' that dumb shit, yo. What da fuck I look like, rapin' my own wife? Fuck outta here. I'ma take what's mine. This pussy's mine, yo. Don't get it fucked up.”

I give him a disgusted look. “What, you wanna smell my pussy? Is that it, Jasper? You wanna sniff to see if another nigga's dick has been in me?”

His jaw tightens. He gives me a look that says he'll snap my neck right now. “I'm tellin' you, Pasha. Don't fuck wit' me, yo. Fuck another nigga, and see what I'ma do to you.” He presses himself into me. His thick dick is hard. I attempt to push him off of me. But he's pressed to fuck. I tell him no. Tell him to get off of me. But he's not hearing it.

“Yo, fuck outta here. You haven't given me this pussy in weeks. We fuckin', yo. Tonight. Right now. Ya heard?” He shoves a hand between my thighs and starts massaging my crotch over my jeans. The friction causes an unexpected jolt to shoot through my clit. Electricity heats my pussy. “I'm puttin' my dick up in this shit, yo. This my shit. Tell me this pussy ain't wet for this hard dick.” He grinds himself deeper into me, his dick pressing against my inner thigh.

I roll my eyes up in my head, reminding myself to stay on script.
To keep playing my position until it's the right time to strike. Jasper starts kissing on my neck, nibbling on my ear. My body starts to heat.

But fucking this nigga clouds my judgment. It blurs my perspective. I push him back. He stumbles a bit. I storm out of the bathroom with my jeans undone, trying to distance myself from him, trying to exhaust the flames slowly burning inside of me.

“You my muthafuckin' wife, yo.” He snatches my arm again, swinging me around to face him. The nigga's switch flips. The veins in his neck swell, and I can literally see them pulsing. “Pasha, I done tol' you I own dis shit, ya heard? Don't have me punch ya muthafuckin' lights out, Pasha. What you want, a muhfucka to beg? Is that it?”

He pushes me back on the bed, gets on top of me, pinning me down with his weight. I don't put up a fight. Again, I let him think he's won. He holds both of my wrists up over my head with one hand, then uses his other hand to rip open my blouse. Yes, I know I could scream. I can also fight this nigga off of me—if I really wanted to. But I don't. And I won't. Jasper knows this. But what he doesn't know is, it's all an act. I want him to keep thinking I'm still helpless and weak. He'll learn soon enough. They'll all learn.

Besides, knowing his goons are here, the last thing I want is for this nigga to flip and decide he wants to invite them all in up here, pinning me down and each of them taking turns running up inside of me. I don't trust any of them niggas he has up in here. Well, maybe Stax. But I can't be so sure about his ass, either.

“Ya muhfuckin' ass been holdin' out on dis good shit for weeks and a nigga been lettin' you get that off, yo. I'ma fuck the shit outta this pussy tonight, yo. I know you been fuckin' some other nigga, yo. Keep shit a hunnid, yo.” He glares at me. His nose flares. “Who da fuck was you out there fuckin', yo? And
don't
lie to me, Pasha.”

I don't blink. Don't flinch. “Nigga, you're crazy.”

He grabs me by the throat. “Tell me who da fuck you been fuckin', yo. Is it one of them Internet muhfuckas, huh? Let me find out ya ass still fuckin' wit' dat online shit, Pash, ‘n' I'ma bust yo' ass. Is you back on ya bullshit, yo?” He starts shaking and choking me. I'm gasping. My eyes start bulging. “Answer me, yo?”

This is the shit I have to go through. What
I've
allowed myself to go through—Jasper's erratic bouts of rage and jealousy, his obsessive need to control me.

He doesn't respect me. Doesn't trust me. How could he? After all the dick sucking I'd done behind his back.

Still, I don't respect his ass, either.

Yet…here I am. No trust, and no real love for this nigga.

Deception is the one thing I've mastered. Pretending. Smiling at the right time. Saying the right things. Lying by omission. Telling this crazy nigga whatever it is he wants to hear. Knowing when to give the illusion of defeat for a greater good. I've learned this shit—all of it—from this dirty nigga.

He loosens his grip on my neck, and the lie pushes its way out. “N-nooo.”

He glowers at me. Searches my eyes for any hint of deceit. There is none. Still, I can tell he's scrambling to believe me. Fighting to trust I've learned my lesson. His nose flares. He doesn't.

“Take these muthafuckin' drawers off, yo.”

I stare at him, narrowing my eyes to tiny slits. I lift my hips and pull my jeans down over them. He yanks my pants off, angrily throwing them across the room. “Real shit, you gonna have me fuck you up, Pasha.”

I blink back tears.

Tears of hurt.

Tears of guilt.

Tears of frustration.

Tears of blame.

Yes, I blame myself for this crazy-ass mess I'm in. I had no business being on an Internet site posting sex ads up. I knew it then. And I know it now. Cheating is cheating no matter the extent, no matter how I tried to justify it or redefine it. At the end of the day,
I
did this shit. And I got caught. All Jasper did is find out. Then fuck me over in more ways imaginable.

And this is my hell.

Nevertheless, I still can't wrap my mind around what kind of monster this nigga really is? That's the question I've been asking myself over and over. I struggle for the answer.

So far, there is none.