Read Online Charge It To The Game by Blake Karrington, Tonya Blount - Free Book Online
Authors: Blake Karrington, Tonya Blount
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wanna go tomorrow instead?‖
Running my hands through my hair, I answered, ―I gotta get my hair done tomorrow.‖
―Ain‘t nothing wrong with your hair. Didn‘t you just get it done? I mean, you can wait one more day and get it done on Monday.‖
―You know Raphael is not open on Mondays.‖
―A‘ight. I‘ll try and be back about one. Just make sure you ready.‖
I walked over and kissed him. ―Thank you.‖
―Um, hum. You can show me how grateful you are tonight. You know a nigga been feeling a little deprived lately.‖
―I promise I‘ma hook you up, boo.‖
Taj squeezed my butt. ―You know you don‘t need to hang out with Pam and them to shake off your funk…your man can take care of that for you.‖ Then he pointed to his suddenly erect manhood. ―See, look how bad Rock‘s missing you.‖
―Go on and get dress,‖ I chuckled, ―you keep it up and we ain‘t never gonna get to the mall.‖
―I don‘t give a fuck about no mall right now. Storm, I can‘t walk around with my shit like this. Look what you did to me. Yo, you gonna have to do something .‖
―I didn‘t do nothing.‖
―Shit, you ain‘t gotta tell me. Come on
now!‖ ―Taj, not right now.‖
Taj grabbed his clothes and went into the guest room to get dressed. I was pushing away the only person left in the world that gave a damn about me. I knew it. Even with Miss LT‘s last words of warning echoing in my ear, I didn‘t know how to stop destroying it.
* * *
After Taj left I turned on the radio and headed in my closet to search for an outfit. Jay Z‘s, Song Cry was playing. I immediately thought of Taj. I don‘t know why but Jay reminded me of Taj. Not his looks…‘cause Taj was fioonnne. Maybe it was the gangsta-I‘ma soliderbut I‘m also a rich-no-nonsense-business mothafucka presence that they both seem to have in common.
I picked up the phone to call Taj, but got his voicemail. ―Hey, it‘s me. I really didn‘t want nothing. I just was calling to see if you were all right. Guess I‘ll just talk to you later then. Um…I‘ll see you at one. Love you.‖ I don‘t know why, but I sometimes had a hard time simply saying sorry.
I decided to wear my Dolce & Gabbana jeans with a matching black sweater, and my black Louis Vuitton sneakers with my matching purse. It was 1:30 and Taj had not come back home and he wasn‘t answering my two-way messages nor was he returning my voicemails.
The door bell rang. Oh, there he is. He must have left his key. Madison had beat me to the door. ―Move out the way, Madison. Who is it?‖
―It‘s me, Storm. Black.‖
―Black?‖ I asked opening up the door a little disappointed. ―What‘s up? What you doing here?‖
―You told me to come by at one o‘clock.‖
―Oh, shit. Damn. My bad. I totally forgot. Taj and I suppose to be doing a little shopping…it‘s a good thing, he is running late.‖
―Oh, so you goin‘ senile on me now.‖
―Shut-up. Come on in and have a seat. You want something to drink.‖
―Nah, I‘m cool. Can I spark my blunt?‖
―Yeah…matter of fact. Let‘s go in the den.‖
* * *
Black took a seat on the black leather swivel chair. ―Here go the profiles that I want you to check out. My peoples up at BC Health Insurance gave me these. They all A1.‖
―Good. How many is
it?‖ ―Ten.‖
―Ten?‖
―Yeah.‖
―I wanted more than that. I‘m trying to do at least 500Gs for the holidays.‖
―That ain‘t no problem. I can call my connect at the bank and have some more profiles for you tomorrow. What you tryin‘ to do—like 10 more?‖
―Yeah, that should be good,‖ I said anxiously looking at my watch.
―Well, damn, ma, that‘s the third time you looked at your watch in five minutes. What I‘m holding you up or something?‖
―Nah. I told you Taj and I was supposed to be going out and he ain‘t back yet. It‘s not like him to be late.‖
―Call him then.‖
―I did. It‘s going straight into voicemail. You know what…let me
Running my hands through my hair, I answered, ―I gotta get my hair done tomorrow.‖
―Ain‘t nothing wrong with your hair. Didn‘t you just get it done? I mean, you can wait one more day and get it done on Monday.‖
―You know Raphael is not open on Mondays.‖
―A‘ight. I‘ll try and be back about one. Just make sure you ready.‖
I walked over and kissed him. ―Thank you.‖
―Um, hum. You can show me how grateful you are tonight. You know a nigga been feeling a little deprived lately.‖
―I promise I‘ma hook you up, boo.‖
Taj squeezed my butt. ―You know you don‘t need to hang out with Pam and them to shake off your funk…your man can take care of that for you.‖ Then he pointed to his suddenly erect manhood. ―See, look how bad Rock‘s missing you.‖
―Go on and get dress,‖ I chuckled, ―you keep it up and we ain‘t never gonna get to the mall.‖
―I don‘t give a fuck about no mall right now. Storm, I can‘t walk around with my shit like this. Look what you did to me. Yo, you gonna have to do something .‖
―I didn‘t do nothing.‖
―Shit, you ain‘t gotta tell me. Come on
now!‖ ―Taj, not right now.‖
Taj grabbed his clothes and went into the guest room to get dressed. I was pushing away the only person left in the world that gave a damn about me. I knew it. Even with Miss LT‘s last words of warning echoing in my ear, I didn‘t know how to stop destroying it.
* * *
After Taj left I turned on the radio and headed in my closet to search for an outfit. Jay Z‘s, Song Cry was playing. I immediately thought of Taj. I don‘t know why but Jay reminded me of Taj. Not his looks…‘cause Taj was fioonnne. Maybe it was the gangsta-I‘ma soliderbut I‘m also a rich-no-nonsense-business mothafucka presence that they both seem to have in common.
I picked up the phone to call Taj, but got his voicemail. ―Hey, it‘s me. I really didn‘t want nothing. I just was calling to see if you were all right. Guess I‘ll just talk to you later then. Um…I‘ll see you at one. Love you.‖ I don‘t know why, but I sometimes had a hard time simply saying sorry.
I decided to wear my Dolce & Gabbana jeans with a matching black sweater, and my black Louis Vuitton sneakers with my matching purse. It was 1:30 and Taj had not come back home and he wasn‘t answering my two-way messages nor was he returning my voicemails.
The door bell rang. Oh, there he is. He must have left his key. Madison had beat me to the door. ―Move out the way, Madison. Who is it?‖
―It‘s me, Storm. Black.‖
―Black?‖ I asked opening up the door a little disappointed. ―What‘s up? What you doing here?‖
―You told me to come by at one o‘clock.‖
―Oh, shit. Damn. My bad. I totally forgot. Taj and I suppose to be doing a little shopping…it‘s a good thing, he is running late.‖
―Oh, so you goin‘ senile on me now.‖
―Shut-up. Come on in and have a seat. You want something to drink.‖
―Nah, I‘m cool. Can I spark my blunt?‖
―Yeah…matter of fact. Let‘s go in the den.‖
* * *
Black took a seat on the black leather swivel chair. ―Here go the profiles that I want you to check out. My peoples up at BC Health Insurance gave me these. They all A1.‖
―Good. How many is
it?‖ ―Ten.‖
―Ten?‖
―Yeah.‖
―I wanted more than that. I‘m trying to do at least 500Gs for the holidays.‖
―That ain‘t no problem. I can call my connect at the bank and have some more profiles for you tomorrow. What you tryin‘ to do—like 10 more?‖
―Yeah, that should be good,‖ I said anxiously looking at my watch.
―Well, damn, ma, that‘s the third time you looked at your watch in five minutes. What I‘m holding you up or something?‖
―Nah. I told you Taj and I was supposed to be going out and he ain‘t back yet. It‘s not like him to be late.‖
―Call him then.‖
―I did. It‘s going straight into voicemail. You know what…let me
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