Never Again, No More 3

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

In part 3 of the dramatic Never Again, No More Series, Trinity, LaMeka, Lucinda, and Charice are back with brand new drama. Although they seem to have escaped their pasts, they find out saying never again, no more is easier said than done. 

Trinity has moved on with her first love, Terrence, and has seemingly left all her troubles behind. However, when you have a past named Pooch, it can and will come back with a vengeance.

After LaMeka barely escaped the death grip Tony had on her, her life has truly come full circle. However, she fears her sordid past is not distant enough to fully embrace her new lease on life—and then again, neither is Tony.

Weathering storms is one battle that Lucinda is used to, but when she falls in love with Aldris, those stormy days are a thing of her past. That is until Aldris's past delivers them a shocking surprise. She’ll find out weathering storm isn’t the problem; it's surviving it.

Charice and Ryan have moved on . . . together. It is a marriage of pure love and pure bliss, until Lincoln shows up, determined to prove that it is a marriage of pure lies. 

Slowly but surely, these ladies' past trials begin to stir up trouble in their current situations. The karma is brewing, and new hot tea is prepared to be served by way of former lovers, love children, and deeply rooted secrets. What will happen when the women and men are forced to face the drama they’ve stirred?     
 

Release date: December 29, 2020

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Although it was a bit breezy and chilly, I leaned against the rail of my terrace in my silk pajama set. My long, silky hair hung loosely, lightly caressing my face as it blew with the morning air, and the sheer serenity of the moment brightened my mood. My arms were riddled with chill bumps after a crisp but refreshing winter breeze kicked up, so I rubbed some warmth into them with my hands as the sun began to peek out beyond the horizon. I never grew tired of admiring the morning sun bursting onto my beautifully landscaped back yard, especially not from the terrace of my estate home in Evanston on the North Shore of Chicago, which was one of the most elite areas, if not the most elite area, in all of Illinois. Even after six months, the view still amazed me, just as it did the first time I had seen it.

We were a hell of a long way from the hood-nigga lifestyle we had been living. Our renovated Victorian-style mansion was a house that I could never even dream of having. It was situated on six acres of land. Terrence had purchased the eight-bedroom, six-bathroom home with family in mind. Aside from the normal features of our home, it boasted amenities such as a theater room, a library, an office, a small home gym, a basketball court, a pool and pool house, and a four-car garage. Our neighbors were CEOs and high-powered executives, and our kids were in private school with their kids. Career-wise, I’d enrolled in an online college and opened up my own art gallery, where I sold a lot of my own personal sketches as signature collections, and Terrence became a real estate investor.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kincaid,” I heard as I felt two arms wrap around my waist.

I took a moment to enjoy the feel of being in Terrence’s arms, then turned around. “Good Morning, Mr. Kincaid,” I replied and kissed my husband.

“How is my lovely wife doing this morning?”

“Why, I’m lovely as always.” I beamed.

“Do you ever get tired of watching the sunrise?” Terrence asked, pointing out into the horizon.

Lifting my arm up, I wrapped my fingers in Terrence’s dreadlocks. “Nah,” I said as he kissed me again.

“Keep pulling on my locs like that, li’l mama, and I’m gonna take you back to bed and give you a reason to hold on to them,” Terrence said suggestively.

“I don’t have a problem with that. I love to please my husband.”

Our passion took over as we kissed on the terrace. Soon, both our pajama pants were down around our ankles, and Terrence lifted me up to make love right there on the ledge.

“Fuck! I want you so fucking bad, li’l mama,” he moaned.

Freeing his thick erection from his boxers, I slid my hand up and down. “Take it,” I commanded him.

Terrence wasted no time, sliding my lacy panties down. Just as we were about to connect, I heard a familiar sound. “Wanhhhh!”

“No, no, please no,” Terrence whined as he buried his face in my chest.

“I’m sorry, boo. The baby calls.”

Standing, I pulled up my underwear and pajama pants. While Terrence regained his composure, I walked into our bedroom to turn the baby monitor off and then, he joined me in the hallway, and we walked across the hallway to our baby’s nursery.

“Hey, son. You couldn’t wait just five more minutes, huh?” Terrence said, picking up our two-month-old baby boy, Tyson.

“And if that was all you were gonna give me, then my li’l Ty-Ty did his mama a big favor.” I laughed as Terrence stood there rocking the baby.

He leaned over and kissed me. “I’m a heavyweight. All I need is one good punch and you’ll be knocked out,” he joked.

I burst out laughing as I grabbed the baby’s blanket and turned off the monitor in the nursery. “Your cocky ass is too much! Come on. Let’s head down to the kitchen so I can warm up his bottle. Your son’s appetite is increasing.”

As we walked out of the nursery to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but stare at Terrence as he held our son. I couldn’t believe just how much Tyson looked like Terrence. Our other two children, Brittany and Terry, were split down the middle between Terrence and me, but not Tyson Jahmal Kincaid. He was definitely his daddy’s spitting image, so I was so thankful that I had gotten away from Pooch before he was born. One look at Tyson and Pooch would have known, without question, that his son was really Terrence’s son.

Part of me thought of Pooch and felt sorry for what he was going through. I’d been following his case via the news and learned that he’d gotten double life without parole. That seemed like far too long for any man to pay for his transgressions. Don’t get me wrong, Pooch did some fucked up shit. Selling death on the streets to little kids’ mamas and daddies and people’s children was low, but at the same time, you had to blame the junkies, too. None of these niggas in the street would make money if people just said no to that ignorant shit. One thing a drug dealer never had to do was beg for a customer, recession or not.

Then, I thought about his sleazy ass with those skank-ass strippers. That wasn’t illegal or anything, but it did degrade women. He even had my homegirl Lucinda dumb in the head enough to be employed at his establishment. What kind of man would hire your best friend to strip at his club? I’ll tell you what kind, a nigga like Pooch. Now, that was low, but it didn’t constitute prison time.

There was other shit, too, like murdering those young cats and only God knows who else over the years. Nobody’s life was worth taking for any reason. My theory is if you didn’t give them life, then you don’t have the right to take it. Yet, in a way, I still felt sorry for Pooch because he was never one of these thugs that fucked with anybody as long as you didn’t step to him or his family or mess with his money. So basically, any dude bad enough to tangle with Pooch was gambling on cheating death.

Maybe that’s why I insisted that we live in a gated community and permanently change our last names to Kincaid. When Terrence and I moved from Atlanta after bringing down Pooch and his organization, Terrence wanted to take on his dad’s last name of Warren, but I refused out of fear. I just knew Pooch would track us down. So, we ended up taking on Terrence’s maternal grandmother’s last name of Kincaid. I didn’t want any mishaps. Even though Pooch was safely situated behind bars in federal lockup, I still felt unsafe at times. It’s almost as if I could hear him taunting me from inside the prison. Sure, I was a long way from Atlanta, in a neighborhood that his ghetto ass would never think to look for me, with a different last name, yet I still worried about Pooch catching up with me—us.

Terrence sat down next to me at the breakfast table as I fed Tyson.

“What’s on your mind?”

Looking up at him with a smile, I fibbed, “Nothing.”

“Liar.” He chuckled.

“I’m just happy—”

He interrupted me. “You were thinking about Pooch again, weren’t you?”

“I can’t help it, Dreads. I feel so disconnected with the world back home. We left everyone and everything we knew and loved in Atlanta. Even though I know Pooch is locked up, I feel like I’m still a target. It’s what I don’t know that bothers me.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I know,” Terrence said, pulling his chair in front of me and placing his hands on my knees. “I know that I will never allow anyone or anything to hurt you or our children. So, you don’t have to worry about Pooch or nobody else. I got you, and when I say I got you, I mean it.”

“I know. It’s just—” I began just as our nanny, Consuela, arrived.

“Buenos días, Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid,” she sang, halting our conversation.

“Good morning, Consuela,” we greeted her in unison.

“I see little Tyson is up early for his feeding.” She smiled as I placed him on my shoulder to burp him.

“Ain’t he always?” I laughed. “This boy ain’t missing no meals.”

“He’s a growing boy. He needs all the meals he can get,” she said. “Well, I am about to start breakfast for the other kids. Would you like anything in particular for yourselves?” Consuela asked.

“Actually, no. I am going to treat my wife out to a special day of shopping and relaxing, so we’ll get something while we’re out,” Terrence said, smiling at me.

“Dreads! You didn’t tell me that we were doing anything today.”

“I know. It was a surprise.”

Consuela smiled at us. “I love to see two young people so much in love. You have a wonderful husband, Mrs. Kincaid.”

“Aww thanks, Consuela,” Terrence said as he hugged her. “Well, we should get the kids dressed so we can drop them off at school. I’ll send them down for breakfast as soon as they’re done, Consuela.”

“No problem, Mr. K. Breakfast will be ready when they get down.”

I put the baby back in his nursery and turned on the monitors. On my way to the kids’ rooms, Terrence grabbed my arm, pulled me in our bedroom, and locked the door in one swoop.

“What are you doing? I have to get the kids dressed.”

“It’s only seven o’clock. They don’t have to be to school until eight-thirty.”

“So?”

“Sooo.” He chuckled, pulling me by the waist and pressing my body close to his rising erection. “Let me show you how good my five-minute bout is,” he joked.

I bit my bottom lip and kissed him. “This better be one powerful punch.”

In one swift motion, his pants were at his ankles, and his luscious member was standing at full attention. “I’m already ready to knock it out the box,” he said with a seductive grin, and that is exactly what he did—in a record four minutes!

Moments like this made me forget the hell I had endured while living with Pooch, and I was determined that I would never go back to that life again. It was a hard decision, but I decided to let go of my fear so that I could fully enjoy raising my kids and being Mrs. Terrence Kincaid. Terrence had proven over and over again that he would take care of me, and now it was time to breathe, relax, and enjoy all my new life had to offer. For the first time, I could honestly say I loved my life! And that was the shit I would remember from now on.

I was going fucking insane! I hated this damn place. Couldn’t eat in peace and couldn’t shit in peace. Now, I couldn’t even sleep in peace. Who wanted to listen to these damn shit-packing muthafuckas in the cell next door moaning and groaning on each other? It made me sick to my muthafucking stomach! How in the hell did two grown, rusty-ass men find pleasure in fucking and sucking on each other? I was cool with one of them dudes at first. I mean, he was a real thug-lookin’ nigga. Swole like a muthafucka. I’m talkin’ about a real cock diesel nigga. His cellmate was kinda quiet, an average-size nigga who liked to read a lot. You never would’ve thought those two was on some ol’ secret lover bullshit.

And that cock diesel nigga had a damn dime-piece-ass woman! I mean, that chick . . . whoo! That’s a bad bitch! Cock Diesel would be all up on her during visitation like he just loved her so much, slobbing her down as if he loved pussy so much. I bet if she knew those same lips were on some dick right now, she’d leave his ass for a nigga like me. I could skeet off just thinking about his chick bouncing that ass in the air, and he was over there moaning like a female while he got his pipe smoked by another dude. From what ol’ dude across the hall told me, they get it in heavy, too. He said Cock Diesel drilled up in ol’ dude ass so deep, it was like his asshole was a female’s pussy!

Now I couldn’t even look at that nigga the same, and he always wanted me to give him daps and play cards and shit. Shiit. Not me. Cock Diesel’s hands had been all over another nigga’s ass crack, and he wanted me to touch them? Hell to the muthafucking no. He’d better come again with that shit and stick to making love to his cellmate.

“You up?” Wolf, my cellmate, asked, breaking my train of thought.

“Hell yeah, I’m up. How I’ma not be up? I can’t sleep with them bitch-ass niggas next door gettin’ they groove on. Trust me. There is nothing I’d rather be than asleep, so I wouldn’t have to hear that nasty-ass shit!”

Wolf laughed. “Man, I feel you. We might as well just talk until they finish, ’cause I’m fucking tired of listening to that shit myself.”

I laughed. “Man, I hear that.”

“So, you heard anything from your girl? The one who left?”

Now, out of all the shit to talk about, he had to bring up Trinity’s raggedy ass, so not only could I not sleep, now I had to be pissed off too! Shit, I think I’d rather listen to them muthafuckas bump nuts than discuss that bitch.

“Hell naw. That broad ain’t tryna see me. Bitches are scandalous. A nigga catch a case, and she gone before the feds even lock me up.”

“That’s fucked up. I feel you. My ex-old lady had the nerve to come up here and tell me face-to-face that she had to move on with her life. Talkin’ about she was lonely and shit and the kids needed a role model and whatnot. I’m like, you weren’t saying that shit when I was out there hustlin’ to provide and shit. You didn’t have no problems with me risking my life, but now that I caught a case tryna do just that, now you looking for a role model and you lonely.”

“Man, I’m surprised you didn’t catch a murder rap up in here. That bitch was bold!” I fussed, shaking my head.

“Yeah, she was. It’s cool, though, ’cause I got her fucking number. The minute she told me that, I started writing her sister and talkin’ real sweet on her. You know? Tellin’ her about how my old lady hurt me. Her sister had just divorced at the time, so she was tellin’ me her problems, too. We’ve been kickin’ it ever since.” He gave a sinister laugh.

“Oh, so that’s the chick that be coming here?”

“Yep and writing me, too,” he said with a chuckle. “She is straight up and honest, too. Anything I ask she’ll do for me, and she’s already making plans for us when I get out. Now, that’s a down-ass chick. The funny part is that her sister don’t even know about us. I told her to keep it between us until I get out. I just want to see the look on that bitch’s face when she sees me with her sister!”

His revelation made me think, and I got quiet for a minute. If Chocolate Flava didn’t come through and Lisa wouldn’t come through, maybe I could get Wolf’s girl to smuggle some shit on the inside for me. It would mean I’d have to bring Wolf in as a partner because I knew he was gonna want a cut. That might not be a bad idea considering he’d been in this joint for a minute, and because of that, niggas in here trusted him, so he had pull and contacts. But the question was could I trust him? Damn these other lame, fake, shit-packing muthafuckas. Could he be down with me and help me realign the Dope Boy Clique? Hmmm . . . a true hustla’s wheels were always turning.

“You ’sleep?” Wolf asked.

“Oh, naw, man. My bad. I was thinking about some shit for a minute.”

“Thinking maybe you’ll do the same thing to your ol’ lady?” Wolf asked.

I laughed even though I felt a pain in my heart. “Even if I could do that, I doubt it would even matter to her.”

“Damn, bruh. That’s cold,” Wolf said.

“Tell me about it.” I started to fume all over again about the situation. Tomorrow was Thursday. Chocolate had better have found out something, or I was gonna cuss her black ass out. “I’m going to bed. Them bumpin’ buddies done finally nutted.”

I stood in line, pacing like a muthafucka. This dude in front of me needed to hurry up. He was up there talking sweet nothings in this phone, and I had some shit to do. It was always best to catch Chocolate around six in the evening, right before she went to bed for a couple of hours to get ready for her night shows. It was 6:02 p.m. and counting.

“My dude, you gon’ be long?” I asked him. I was trying to be nice about it.

He frowned at me. “Nigga, I’m on the phone with my lady,” he said rudely and completely turned his back to me.

My temper flared. This nigga didn’t want it with me. For real. I tapped him on the shoulder lightly. “My man. I understand that, but I got some important shit to find out, and I really need to get to that phone,” I said, trying not to show my anger.

He held up two fingers. “Two minutes.”

If I wasn’t working on an appeal, I’d fuck him up while his bitch listened on the other end. I already had double life. Any more time after that didn’t even fucking matter. Three minutes later, that nigga hung up then turned to look at me and laughed.

“You got it, bruh,” he said to me.

It was 6:06 p.m. I got his ass. “A’ight, man.” I grabbed the phone and made my collect call.

“Hello?” Chocolate Flava said sleepily after answering the phone.

“Did I wake you up?” I asked, knowing I did.

“Yes. You know I go to bed around this time,” she responded with an attitude.

“I know, but some dumb nigga was holding up the line.” Why was I explaining shit to her? Fuck that. “Forget all that. Did you find out anything?”

“Well, Attorney Stein is working on a deal—”

I interrupted. “We can talk about that next weekend or tomorrow. I’m talking about Trinity.”

She huffed with irritation. “The only thing I can really say is Terrence is definitely not around, because I found out that he don’t live in the same apartments no more. The landlord told me he put in his notice to leave like two months before you got arrested. I may be wrong, but I don’t think Trinity ran off with him either. My cop friends told me that when they did the raid, the weirdest shit was that your house was left like someone was still staying there. Trinity’s clothes and shoes were there, and the kids’ furniture and clothes were still there. No furniture was moved, and there was still food in the refrigerator. Trinity’s car was there, but it got confiscated with the rest of your cars. I think they gon’ start auctioning all that shit off soon, too.”

That was strange. If Trinity had left, wouldn’t she take something with her? Now, a part of me was worried that someone had done something to her and my baby. If somebody had hurt Trinity, my unborn child, and Princess, I was straight gon’ get another double life sentence because they was gettin’ done the fuck in. Period.

“Wait a minute. So, nothing was gone? Absolutely nothing?”

“That’s what it looks like, and we all know Trinity’s high and mighty ass ain’t going nowhere broke. Not the way you provided for her ass,” Chocolate Flava sneered.

“Chill with that shit. She was my girl. That was my job.”

“Well, I’m your girl now, and all you do is question me about Trinity,” she snapped.

Ignoring her attitude, I said, “But this shit don’t add up. Her mom and her little brother and sister are gone, too.” My mind wandered. “Did you find out anything about them? Have any of her friends said something?”

“Them niggas pulled some Houdini shit. Her mom was just up and gone, and Ms. Tina, her neighbor, said the landlord was pissed about that. Like I said, Terrence’s manager said he put in a notice like eight months ago, and he didn’t know where he was at. I’ve seen Lucinda, and she said she ain’t even talked to Trinity in months. LaMeka ain’t talked to her neither, but them hoes might be lying. Charice is gone to New York with Ryan, so she probably knows less than all of them. I tried to catch up with Terrence’s old friend Skeet, but I ain’t been able to catch that nigga. I don’t know, Pooch. I don’t know what to make of all of it.”

This shit just got stranger by the second. Something was definitely up with this shit. Somebody knew more than they were letting on. I knew Lucinda or LaMeka wouldn’t talk regardless, and I knew those bitches knew something, even if it was nothing else but the reason why Trinity was gone. Shit, but who knows? If a muthafucka got to them, then they may be closed-lipped to protect themselves, too. Muthafuckas do know just how to lean to keep bitches quiet. Trinity’s friends had kids too, so I knew they weren’t risking they kids’ lives to give up no info on Trinity. For now, I’d keep them in my back pocket. Even if that damn LaMeka wouldn’t help, maybe I could lean on Lucinda. She and I went back, and I had leaned on her in the past. But for now, I’d take another route.

I couldn’t help but sigh with frustration. “A’ight. You did all right. But look, catch up to that nigga Skeet. He may be the only hope right now.”

“A’ight. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow about that appeal.”

“A’ight, and call before six, or I ain’t answering,” she said and hung up in my face.

I stared at the phone for a second in disbelief. If I didn’t need this bitch, I would cuss her the fuck out.

Now, I was stuck between being worried about Trinity and being pissed at her ass. My chest ached out of love for this bitch. Damn, why couldn’t I just find out what’s up? How the fuck could it be possible to hate and love someone at the same time? Part of me wanted to knock her block off, and the other half just wanted to hold her like I used to. That bitch fucked me all the way up. No surprise, because she’d had me fucked up since the fourth grade.

For now, it was back to my cell after a stop to the laundry room. This cool-ass cat named Pit, who worked in the laundry room with the disrespectful-ass phone dude, had a cousin in my Dope Boy Clique and told me to let him know if I ever needed anything. Now, I did.

“Strangle that bitch,” was all I was gonna say, and by nighttime, phone dude’s bitch was gon’ get another phone call—from the administration for identification purposes only.

“She’s lying! She has to be!” Aldris ranted for the tenth time as he paced the floor. “People have seen her since we broke up. They never said shit to me about a baby except the one she was having with her husband!”

“Aldris, maybe you should go back to work so you can get this off of your mind,” I pleaded with him again. In truth, I needed time to adjust to this news myself. I mean here we were, fine with our happy little family, and here comes another child the same age as Nadia out of left field.

“I can’t, Lu!” he yelled. He stopped as soon as the words came out of his mouth, then walked over, and hugged me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just I’m so fucked up right now by all of this.”

I hugged him back. “Ay dios mío. We both are.” I walked him to the sofa, and we sat facing each other. “So, are you absolutely sure there couldn’t be any possibility that this child is yours?”

He sighed and rubbed his face as he sank back into the couch. “I’m not saying that, Lucinda. I mean she was my fiancée. We had an active sex life, regardless of the fact that I was doing my thing on the side, and we didn’t use protection all the time. So, I mean, there is a chance it could be, but damn. I’d think she would’ve said something before six years!”

“Well, when she left you, she was pissed off. What’s the old adage? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. There’s no telling what a woman’s capable of if she gets hurt,” I told him as I massaged his right shoulder.

“Ugh!” Aldris jumped up and hollered in frustration. “This is fucking bullshit. I have to make some phone calls,” he said, walking to our bedroom.

I followed him. “Who are you calling?”

“First, my job to let them know I’m gonna be out a couple of days. Second, I’m calling my mother. And she had the nerve to name her after my momma! I can’t believe that shit.” He continued his rant while he put on some jeans and a polo shirt. “Third, I’m calling my fucking atto. . .