In Love with a Rude Boy

by Nika Michelle, Racquel Williams

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Nika Michelle and Racquel Williams take listeners to the island paradise of Jamaica to experience major drama with a dash of tropical flavor. When Yankee gal Kadijah visits the beautiful island of Jamaica with her friends Nicole and Tamia, she does not expect the events that follow. After a nasty breakup with her two-timing ex and her graduation from culinary arts school, all she wants to do is unwind and maybe have a one-night stand. However, when she meets Omari, the sexy rude boy turned DJ, things heat up quickly. Once Omari locks eyes with Kadijah, his life will never be the same, and he knows it. He is feeling the feisty American beauty, but his wife, the beautiful but fiery Angela, is having no parts of it. She will stop at nothing to make sure that no woman takes her husband away from her - especially not some Yankee.

Release date: February 27, 2018

Publisher: Urban Audiobooks

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Damn, DiDi, your man got some explaining to do, bitch,” my girl Tamia stated as she stared at me with wide eyes.

I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. “It ain’t nothing for him to explain.” With that said, I walked into my two-bedroom condo to pour myself a glass of Merlot.

Her nosy ass was right on my heels as she closed the door behind us. “I’m your best friend, and I had no clue that Daryn was fucking with some other chick. Did you?”

I made my way to the kitchen as I thought about my boyfriend . . . well, as far as I was concerned at that point, my ex-boyfriend Daryn. His side bitch had shown up at my crib, talking cash shit about how I had stolen him from her. I had told that bitch to kiss my ass, just like he had been doing for the past two years and three months. Shit, I couldn’t wait for that nigga to show up and try to explain that messiness away. One thing about me was the fact that I did not, and I repeat did not, need to depend on a man. I always made sure that I was good, for the simple fact that if I relied on a man for shit, I’d be left with nothing, because a man was never consistent.

A man always talked a good game and did what he felt he had to do until he got you in his clutches, and then that shit would come to a complete halt. I was sick of the same old, same old. When it came to relationships, I felt that I was just doing what everybody else around me expected. I took a man’s bullshit out of fear of being alone, but why? I mean, a bitch could do bad all by her damn self, but from where I was standing, my shit looked like it was all good. I was holding my own and doing a damn good job at it. Not one man could take credit for my success, not even my father. He had disappeared a long time ago. It was just me, my mom, and my older brother, Jameel.

Jameel was older than me by three years. He was the typical older brother, because he was overprotective as hell. All I could hope was that he wouldn’t come running to my rescue if my bestie decided to call him. I had to make her back down, because I didn’t want any more drama.

When I found the bottle of Sutter Home Merlot in the fridge, I popped the cork out and poured Tamia and myself a glass. “I didn’t know, either. Look, I can handle Daryn. Just go home and let me do me. I’m a grown-ass woman. You know I got this. I’m gonna just let him get his shit after I tell him where to go. You don’t have a thing to worry about.” I handed her one of the glasses of merlot.

She looked at me and shook her head as she sipped her wine. “Heifer, who the hell do you think you foolin’? I can literally hear the wheels turning in your head. You plotting on that nigga.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I took a large gulp of the dry red wine. Damn, I needed that drink. “No I’m not. I’m simply gonna pack his things and cuss him out in the process. That’s it. Besides, it’s probably best that I leave his boring ass alone, anyway. Did you see that bitch he’s fucking? He cheated on me with that?” I shook my head.

Tamia started laughing too. “Hell, yeah. She looked like a black Mary Poppins.”

“Right. Talking ’bout, do you know Daryn Marshall?” I mocked her. “Um, yeah, bitch, I’ve been fucking him for the past two years. Get the fuck outta here. What? Is he your husband?” I shook my head, trying to defy the tears. I couldn’t believe that fool had played me like that. The nerve of him.

I was a catch and a damn good one at that. Fortunately, the bitch had claimed that they weren’t married, but they had been together for four years and were engaged. What the fuck? I had something for his ass. I couldn’t wait until that black motherfucker used the key that I had given him a few months ago to walk inside my spot. Oh, I had something for him to catch, and it certainly was not some of my good pussy. Hell, nah. I was college educated, but I had been raised in the hood. Like they said, “You can take the chick out of the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of the chick.” Damn right!

Not only was I proudly hood as hell, but I was also smart. With the help of my common sense, I had refined my book sense. Therefore, I was the perfect combination of beauty and brains. The thing was, I knew how to keep the street side of me at bay. I’d learned over the years that, that ignorant-acting mess got me nowhere. I had a foul mouth, and I cursed like a sailor. Daryn’s trifling ass had often told me that cursing wasn’t ladylike. Little did he know, but I didn’t give a damn what was ladylike. I definitely carried myself like a lady, but I handled my business like a nigga. I knew how to talk and carry myself despite how and where I’d been raised therefore, I had managed to make a good living for myself at the age of twenty-five.

“You gonna be okay?” my bestie asked, concerned.

We had been close since the first grade, and although I’d been brash with her, I was actually glad that she had been there when that heifer rolled up. However, the plain-Jane ho was gone, and Daryn was on his way over. As much as I loved Tamia, I felt the need to handle the situation on my own. It was up to me to get to the bottom of my own relationship issues. As far as I was concerned, the heifer who came over to tell me all about her long-term relationship with my man had had enough evidence. She’d shown me pictures of them together, text messages, and all types of shit. I’d even heard a few voice mails, and it was his voice. I had not one shred of doubt about it.

I had hoped that old girl would stick around for the showdown, but she had claimed that she would confront him later and wanted only to let me know because it was weighing on her heart and mind. Turned out that she had been investigating his social network activity, being that he had become less and less available to her. He’d been claiming that he had to go out of town for business. Daryn was an event promoter and a law school student who did spend a lot of time working, but his lack of availability had probably been because of his affair with me. When I looked at the bigger picture, I realized that I was the side chick. Daryn had been cheating on that average-looking bitch with me.

“Yeah.” I nodded as she finished her wine and put the glass down on the granite-top counter.

“Okay. You sure? ’Cause—”

I cut her off. “Yes. I’ll call you and fill you in after he leaves.”

She reluctantly walked toward the door before turning around to look at me. “I can stay and—”

“No,” I said, cutting her off again, as I literally pushed her out the door. “I got this.”

“A’ight, if you say so, but make sure you call me.”

“I will.”

I stepped out into the hallway and watched as she disappeared around the corner to get to the staircase. When I got back inside and closed the door, I finally broke down in tears.

In less than two hours, Daryn was sitting at the dining room table, ready for me to serve him, like usual. The candles were burning, and the lights were all low and romantic. Talk about setting the mood right. I was looking all erotically hot and inviting in a sexy-ass red silk lingerie set by Frederick’s of Hollywood. The color made my smooth bronze-toned skin look like it was glowing. My MAC lip gloss was popping, and the black red bottoms on my feet had my calves standing at attention. That sorry-ass nigga loved that sexy-ass shit.

I narrowed my already slanted copper-brown eyes at him and then puckered my thick lips to blow him a kiss. My five-foot-ten-inch, 165-pound frame was enticing him, and I could tell by how he was staring at me. I stood at the stove, carefully placed his favorite meal in a bowl, then placed the bowl on a plate. He was from New Orleans, and gumbo was his shit. I also served him some rice and mixed veggies on the side, along with a few toasted Hawaiian rolls. He loved them. I figured I’d remind him of everything that he would be missing.

“Damn, baby girl. You got it smelling all types of good up in here,” he said as he rubbed his hands together.

I didn’t know if he was hungry for the food or for me, because I was looking damn good. As I tossed my bouncy shoulder-length hair over my shoulders, he simply stared hungrily.

“You want me or the food?” I asked slyly as I glanced back at him.

I hoped that the smile on my face was convincing, because I needed him to feel it. He had to know that he’d attempted to play the wrong bitch. With my back turned to him, I made the face that I really wanted him to see. I damn sure wasn’t fucking smiling. What the hell did I have to smile about? The man I thought I’d be spending the rest of my life with had planned his future with another bitch, and she had the ring to show for it.

“I love your cookin’, sexy, but you know I’ll always choose your fine, thick ass over food.” His smooth dark brown skin was literally radiant as he fed me more bullshit.

His sexy dark brown bedroom eyes, close-cut wavy hair, and thick lips made me weak, and so did the aroma of his True Religion cologne. I stared at his handsome face and wanted to go ahead and reveal what had been made known to me. Instead of spilling the beans, I held my feelings in.

With that fake-ass smile on my face again, I made my way over to him, carrying his food on a tray. A tall glass of sweet tea with lemon was balanced on the tray as well, and he looked like he was so ready to grub. That shit made me want to laugh, despite my hurt.

“Well, for now you’ll have to settle for food. I’m savin’ the best part of the night for last, baby,” I said.

I smiled down at him as I swiftly picked up the bowl of steamy, hot gumbo. I dumped it in his lap, and he yelped in pain. Before he could shoot up from the table, I dumped the rest of the food on him and then the tea, to cool him off a little.

“Shit! Fuck, yo! Why’d you do that?” His eyes were on fire, but I didn’t give a fuck.

“What? You thought you were gonna just play me and shit, nigga! Yeah, your average-ass bitch popped up over here today. So, your ass is engaged, huh? You better be glad I ain’t do what the fuck I wanted to do to you. I should’ve let your ass go to sleep and set your dick on fire, like I saw this bitch do on Facebook. You ain’t worth me catching a charge over, though, nigga! Get the fuck out!” I went off and removed my heels, just in case I had to box his ass.

“Baby.” He held his hands out. “Hold up. . . . What the fuck you talkin’ ’bout?”

That nigga had the audacity to play dumb about that shit. It was a good thing I had my evidence. His fiancée had sent me pics of them together and a video of the damn proposal and all.

“Oh, really? You gon’ act like I’m makin’ this shit up, nigga!” My iPhone was in my hand, and I was strolling, ready to show him what I had on his lame ass.

The look of shock on his face spoke volumes, but I didn’t want to hear any more of his lies. He was clearly a liar, and I was so fucking done with him.

“Di, baby, I can explain. Look, she doesn’t mean shit to me. Her father is a partner at the law firm I want to work at, and I have to deal with her to get where I want to be. I was going to break it off. I promise you I was planning to tell her the truth about us,” he explained.

Well, his explanation wasn’t worth shit. He had no credibility with me, and that shit didn’t matter either way.

I laughed mockingly in his face before I walked toward the front door. When I opened it, I used my hands to emphasize my point. “If you don’t get your lying ass outta here, I’m gon’ send you outta this bitch on a stretcher or in a body bag. Straight the fuck up. Oh, and give me my fuckin’ key!”

I threw the bag with his things in it that had been sitting beside the door, and then I put my hand out.

The stain on the crotch of his pants reminded me of the mess I had to clean up, but I couldn’t give two shits about that.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. If you give me a chance, I can make this up to you.” He looked all pitiful, but I wasn’t falling for it.

“Key please.” I wiggled the fingers of my extended hand for emphasis.

He sighed before reaching in his pocket and retrieving his keys. He removed the key to my place from his key ring and placed it on my outstretched hand. I tried the key out just to be sure it worked. It was the right one.

“Baby, look—”

I cut him off real damn quick. “Bye, Craig! Yeah, look at it one more time, nigga, and salivate over the good-ass pussy your dick’ll never have the pleasure of feeling again. Miss me with the bullshit, just like you gon’ miss me, nigga! Get the fuck out!”

He walked past me and gave me a look of longing. “You’ll be back to your senses tomorrow, DiDi. You already know that I’m a catch, ma. Don’t play yourself.”

“What? Nigga, are you serious right now? You played yourself. I can do so much better than you. Besides, I was with you only ’cause I thought you were going to be a successful lawyer. The dick is wack as fuck!” With that said, I slammed the door in his face.

“Fuck him,” I said out loud and walked back toward the kitchen.

I put some of the gumbo in a bowl and sat down at the dining room table. After tasting it, I couldn’t help but give myself credit for how good it was. Too bad I was looking all good and shit for nothing. Shit, after that, I had that “fuck a nigga” attitude. Love wasn’t shit but a setup for a bitch to be all fucked up. From this point on, it was money over niggas. My career and my funds were going to be my focus. I didn’t have time for love, nor did I have any patience for a lame-ass man. It was all about me now, and so . . . I was going to do me.

Jah know star, the sun was blazing on the field as we played our regular Sunday evening football game at the ball field. I heard the chicks screaming my name as I kicked the ball into the goal. I smiled at the crowd of females, who made it a ritual to watch us every time we played.

As I jumped on my Suzuki Hayabusa 100R motorcycle, I looked around and smiled, because it was a big come up from the ghetto that I had grown up in.

I was born and raised in Cockburn Pen, one of the poorest ghetto neighborhoods in the rural area of Kingston, Jamaica. Shit, we were poor as hell, and being the oldest of eight children, I had to help Mama out. I knew that once I got older, I had to get away from that life. There were days when we didn’t have anything but water and a piece of bread to eat for our dinner.

Killing and robbing were everyday things. Even as a young yute, I used to hang around the bigger dons of the area, watching and learning. It was then that I made a mental note that I was going to get out and make a better life for myself, and it didn’t matter how. I was going to get mine by any means necessary.

I was about fourteen years old when I decided I had had enough of being poor. So, I got up, kissed Mama on the cheek, and bounced. Life was rough in them streets, and for the first couple of months, my homeboy and I robbed drug dealers and used the money to get bags of ganja. Selling drugs wasn’t what I wanted, though. It was only a means to survive.

Being on the streets gave me different opportunities, and one of them was music. Ever since I was young, I had been fascinated with reggae. Me and my brethren would gather around and battle each other with songs that we made up. News traveled fast, and I became one of the hottest deejays in Cockburn Pen. It didn’t take long for me to reach my true potential, and before you knew it, I was given an opportunity to deejay on a well-known sound system called Killamanjaro. See, Killamanjaro was mashing up the place and shutting down every sound it clashed with. I accepted the offer, and the rest was history.

I didn’t mean to brag, but I was one of the hottest deejays in Jamaica right now, and with that came fame. Bitches started to throw themselves at me. Every night after the show, I could expect to leave with a different woman. I wasn’t trying to settle down, but fucking pussy was definitely bragging rights among me and my brethren.

I was a gallist, a player, until I met my beautiful wife. It still sounded weird to me, when I said the word wife, because I had never thought that I would be married and would have two beautiful kids. Those kids were the only good thing that had come from me being tied down for the past three years.

I parked my bike in the driveway and opened the grill, the door, to the five-bedroom house that I had bought in the Stony Hill area of Kingston. It was a big come up from the ghetto, because only people with big money could afford to live up in this area.

“Daddy’s home! Hey, Daddy,” my youngest daughter exclaimed. She jumped on me as soon as I walked inside.

“A wey you did dey? You si mi a call your rassclaat phone?” Angela said, confronting me about where I’d been.

“Aye, watch yo’ mout’. Mi a big man, and mi nuh haffi check in,” I said. I was pissed as hell that instead of greeting her husband, all she did was fuss all the damn time.

“Mi know you cheating, but mi a tell yuh and dat bitch, she better go find her own man. Mi done talk,” she said before she walked off into the room.

I took a seat on the couch. I was really tired of coming home to this bullshit. For once in my life, I wasn’t fucking nothing else, and all she could do was sit on her ass and complain and accuse me of cheating. Jah knows those bitches out there be throwing pussy at me on the regular, but after I got caught cheating over a year ago, I’d been laying low. Shit had got sticky between my wife and the bitch from Waltham Park Road that I was fucking. Somehow, I had left my phone at home by mistake, and Angela had gone snooping around. All hell had broken loose when she read the text messages between the bitch and me. She had called the bitch, and they had met up and had got to fighting. It was so bad that Angela cut the bitch’s face up. She got locked up that day, and later she was given probation. I was angry when I found out about it, because Angela was a wife, yet she was out in the streets, behaving like she was a matey, a side chick.

Ever since that incident, Angela had been accusing me of fucking everything with a pussy. I had to stop her from coming out to the dances that I kept, because she did not know how to act, especially when she saw other bitches.

I wasn’t going to lie. The relationship was wearing me the fuck down. I was ready to get away from her and her old, miserable ass.

It was my final class with my favorite professor, Chef Cunnings. A tall, husky, dark-skinned man from New Orleans, he had an array of recipes, from French to Italian, that he taught us, but his specialty was Southern cuisine.

“Kadijah . . .” His eyes rolled back in pleasure as he tasted my risotto. “This is perfect. It’s fantastico!”

Beaming, I looked back at my jealous-ass classmates. I’d been a standout in my culinary arts classes from the beginning. No, I wasn’t perfect. I was just a natural cook, and I enjoyed putting recipes together.

“So, explain what you have to accompany this delicious risotto.” His eyes lit up as his eyes took in my delicious display.

“I have an Italian seafood stew with shrimp, scallops, clams, and mussels. Also, there are roasted vegetables, which consist of zucchini, bell peppers, eggplant, onions, and asparagus.”

As he picked up a forkful of the vegetables, he literally salivated. Then he popped it into his mouth.

“Mmm . . .” Taking in the savory flavors, he chewed slowly and finally swallowed. “The entire dish is perfect. You are definitely graduating at the top of your class. If you need a referral, I have the letter already written up.”

“Thank you so much, Chef Cunnings.”

As he moved on to the next student, all I could do was envision myself walking across that stage to get my credentials.

One thing about me was I could cook my ass off. Although my brother was older than me, I was the woman of the house when Mama was working, and I made sure that we ate. The job she had at a warehouse had her out of the house for at least thirteen hours a day. Because of her hard work for minimum wage, I had had to learn how to cook early. Another thing I had learned from her was the fact that I didn’t want to work as hard as she did.

That was why I had decided that I wanted to be a chef. Cooking was something that I was good at, and I enjoyed it, so why not make money from it? Two weeks had passed since the fiasco with Daryn, and I was just ready to move on. What better way. . .