Never Again, No More 4

by UNTAMED

Genres: Christian Suspense

Synopsis

Never Again, No More 4 explodes with secrets and lies that begin unraveling from one character to the next, showcasing what goes around, truly comes around again.
As Pooch works tirelessly to realign the Dope Boy Clique from prison, Trinity and Terrence seem to be falling apart at the seams. Trinity wonders if Terrence is truly the man she thought he was, and Terrence begins to question Trinity's actions
around those closest to him. Although they love each other, are they right for each other? Unknowingly, they must brace themselves for the wrath of Pooch.
Life has moved on for LaMeka. She has the career and the new man she's always wanted. Gavin is playing for keeps, but Tony is alive and well. With a new lease on life, he wants his family back and will do whatever it takes to remove Gavin from the picture.
Lucinda struggles to adapt to the new normal of her stepdaughter, Jessica, and Aldris' ex-fiancée, Jennifer. Admittedly, Aldris doesn't make the transition easy, and as Jennifer and Aldris get close again, it causes a rift between Lucinda and
Aldris. When Lucinda finds solace in an unexpected friend, Aldris is left struggling to keep his blended family together.
After Lincoln shows up and wreaks havoc for Charice and Ryan, it's Ryan who's left having to correct his errors to make his wife happy again. However, the secret they are withholding about the paternity of their baby may be the one thing that rips this perfect union to shreds.

Release date: September 21, 2021

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

For the most part, my life was great. I had my husband right beside me, loving me, supporting me, and taking care of me and the kids. My career was in full swing, and I was working on my degree, so that I could progress. I didn’t need or want for anything. But I was still feeling a disconnect in my life. Ever since Terrence had accused me of sleeping with his cousin, Big Cal, I had felt so hurt. I got that he had risked a lot, especially when it had come to helping Big Cal and his other cousin, Thomas, infiltrate Pooch’s Dope Boy Clique and take them down, but hell, I had risked a lot, too, by sneaking off with the kids and leaving with Terrence, so why would I want to be the one to jeopardize it? I understood that he felt he couldn’t trust anyone. Cool. I got that. But it really seemed like he was saying he couldn’t trust me, and that was a problem.

I’d done a good job of pretending not to let it worry me, but over the past couple of weeks, I’d spent more time at the art gallery instead of staying at the house, because I wanted to be away from Terrence. Being made to feel like I was a whore when all I’d ever been was a straight-up, down-ass chick did something to me. Especially when the person who made me feel this way was supposed to be my better half.

“Trinity, we’ve got an issue with your Ecstasy collection. Two of the portraits came back from production with marks,” my manager informed me.

I looked up from my computer. “Give me about five minutes, and I’ll be right out.”

“Sure. Oh, and I have the invoices from last month for you to go over when you get a chance.”

Once I acknowledged her last statement, she placed the invoices on my desk and left. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I was finishing my research paper for class, so I could submit it to my professor.

Ding. My work cell phone alerted me that I had a message. I looked at the screen and saw that it was from Big Cal.

Biguc1: You still there?

TatsByTrin: Yeah, I told you I was typing my paper. I can’t really talk now anyway. I’m at the office, and I have a couple of shipment issues to deal with.

Biguc1: Well, don’t be frustrated. My cousin can be paranoid at times. He loves you, Trinity, and I can’t blame him for keeping his eyes out on you. Besides the fact that he loves you, you’re a dime-piece girl, and any man would be happy to have you on his arm. So, don’t take offense to it. Count it as a blessing.

His words spread a feeling of warmth and comfort through me, and I giggled at his assessment.

TatsByTrin: Of course. LOL. I gotta go. Good talking to you. You’re always there for me.

Biguc1: LOL. True. I’ll always be there for you. Like a good neighbor, Big Cal is there. LOL.

TatsByTrin: LMAO. Clown. Holla at you later. Be good.

Biguc1: Peace. Stay sexy, lovely lady.

After I placed my phone down, I signed off my work computer and went to deal with the marred pictures. After that issue, there was another one and another one, and before I knew it, I was tied up for at least another hour handling business. It didn’t bother me, but I did want to finish my paper before Terrence came to take me to lunch, and now I wouldn’t have the time.

“What’s up, people?” Terrence said, walking into the gallery.

“Hey, Terrence,” everyone replied in unison.

My baby looked all kinds of fine. His dreads had just been freshly retouched, and his goatee lined up, and his outfit was fresh. I swore only he could make a pair of black cargo shorts and a fitted, gray V-neck T-shirt look sexy.

He walked over to me and kissed me on the lips. “What’s up, sexy?” he whispered.

“Aw,” the ladies sang.

“You all are so silly.” I smiled, looking back at them.

“Girl, please. I wish I had a man to call me sexy,” Jalise, my operations manager, joked as they all high-fived each other.

Terrence wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Well, I do have a cousin named Aaron you can have.”

I put my face in my hands and couldn’t help but to laugh. If only they knew why he had said that. I playfully nudged him.

“Girl, Mr. Right will come. Don’t rush it. The wait makes it that much sweeter.” I winked at her. Then I turned to face Terrence. “I’m just wrapping up a few minor issues. I’ll be ready in a few. You can sit in my office and wait if you want.”

“Cool. Handle your business, businesswoman.” He kissed me on my forehead before he turned and headed back to my office.

Owning my own business wasn’t easy, but I wasn’t going to complain. Fuckin’ with Pooch, I would’ve never been able to have anything to complain about. I did not know what in the hell had ever possessed me to enter into a relationship with that fool anyway. All I knew was that I’d lived and learned, and I was so glad that Vernon “Pooch” Smalls was out of my life.

When I thought about all my good fortune—everything I’d accomplished and the person I had become—I knew it was not only because of me, but also because of Terrence’s continued love and support. So at the end of the day, it was hard to be upset with him. Hell, the man wasn’t perfect, and he did say that he never intended to doubt me. As I thought it over and listened to how the women that worked for me all wished they could have a man like mine, I decided that Big Cal was right. I’d read too much into what had happened, and I needed to let it go. With that thought, I decided to call it a day and went to the back to get my husband so we could eat lunch. Then I’d take him to our favorite hotel and make passionate love to him for dessert.

“Ready?” I smiled at him as I walked into my office.

He looked up. “Yeah.”

After closing down my office laptop computer, I packed it, the invoices Jalise had left on my desk, and my work cell phone in my shoulder bag. Then I gave myself a once-over in the mirror. Perfection stared back. I opened my purse, slid on my bangle bracelets, and reapplied some lip gloss; then I tossed the lip gloss back inside before I grabbed my things and walked out with Terrence.

“All right, ladies. I’m gonna call it a day. You all hold it down, and if you need me, hit me up on my cell,” I announced.

Terrence threw up his hands as he followed me out. “See you, ladies. Have a good one.”

A minute later I slid into Terrence’s Range Rover, put my head back, and closed my eyes, relaxing to the sound of Kem’s latest CD flowing through speakers. Suddenly, Rick Ross came crashing through the airwaves. I looked over at Terrence, who was nodding his head to the music, and got slightly irritated that he had taken me out of my sensual mood. Hell, with this damn Rick Ross, I felt like I was getting ready to go bust out somebody’s car windows.

“Can we switch it back to Kem, babe?” I asked him, my head still on the headrest.

“Nah. I’m feeling Ricky Ross right now,” he said plainly.

Wow. Okay then. “So, I was thinking maybe we could do something else for now and go to Oceanique or L2O later,” I said, trying to block out the music and switch the subject.

“I was kinda feeling like I wanted some Kuma’s today.”

That made me sit up. “Kuma’s?” I asked, turning to face him. “You came and got me from the gallery to go to Kuma’s?”

“Best Chicago dogs and burgers around. They have some good Italian beef sandwiches too. You know you love Kuma’s.”

Cutting my eyes at him, I crossed my arms. “Yeah, I like Kuma’s if the kids are with us, but I thought we were making a nice little moment out of this. Ain’t nothing sexy about digging into a greasy Kuma’s burger.”

Without even taking his eyes off the road, he shrugged. “Kuma’s fries are better than Mickey D’s.”

I hit my forehead. “That is so not the point, Dreads. I don’t want Mickey D’s or Kuma’s. Damn.”

“Okay, well, where would my princess like to go?” he asked. The sarcasm practically dripped from his lips.

My head tilted as I gave him the side-eye. He’d never called me a princess before. I didn’t know what that or his abrupt attitude was all about. “Um, like I said, I was hoping to skip the lunch and spend a little time together, and then go home, change, and head over to Oceanique or L2O for dinner. We could still make it if we put in reservations now.”

“Well, I’m hungry now. Can’t we just go where I want to go for once?”

I looked at him as if he were crazy. He’d never been so rude, and it was highly uncalled for. “You happen to like Oceanique and L2O.”

“Yes, but neither is open now, and I want some Kuma’s.”

“Fine. Why can’t we go to Fire House Grill? It’s a nice little spot that we can eat at now, and we love their food.”

“It ain’t Kuma’s.”

“It’s not, but it is a compromise,” I said, tossing out my own jab at his relentless behavior.

Gripping the steering wheel, he steeled his jaw and then grunted. “Kuma’s can be a compromise too if you’d let it be.”

Throwing my hands up in exasperation, I quipped, “Why not Mickey D’s, then?”

He rubbed his belly. “Damn. They are running a special on their Double Quarter Pounders with Cheese.”

“Oh, hell no,” I mumbled. “Fine, Dreads. Let’s go to Kuma’s,” I said, stressing Kuma’s to show my annoyance.

“Cool. Thanks, babe.”

Shocked by his nonchalant attitude and bad-mannered behavior, I looked at him and rolled my eyes. Confession time. My relationship with Dreads was a lot different than my relationship with Pooch. Pooch had given up that bread, true enough, but he had been very clear that he was in charge and that it was his way or no way. With Dreads, I was spoiled. Point blank, period. With Dreads, it wasn’t his way. It was whatever I wanted or needed. I was used to that from Dreads. Don’t get it twisted. I gave him his space and let him be the man of the house. Yes, we were partners, and our decisions were mutual, but I always allowed him to be the man. Still, as my man, Dreads spoiled the hell out of me, so his little stance about going to Kuma’s was something I wasn’t used to.

I tried not to let it spoil my mood, though, because I wanted to get him alone, tell him that I forgave him, and put it down on him like it wasn’t nobody’s business. Part of me felt like he would still go to one of the restaurants I wanted to go to, but when he never picked up his cell phone to make the reservation, and we pulled up at Kuma’s, I knew he was serious. Instead, I tried to make the most of it. I sat at one of the few vacant tables and pulled my Dolce & Gabbana shades above my head as Terrence went to get our food.

“Gurl, is that a Coach bag?” asked some chick on the other side of me. I turned to see her and two of her friends staring at my purse in awe. “Where’d you get yours from? Chico? That definitely looks like a Chico bag. He gets the shit that looks real, like for real for real,” she said, high-fiving one of the females.

I shook my head. “Naw, boo. This is real. It’s a Birkin bag.”

“Bur who?” the girl asked.

Her friend hit her on the arm, with a wide-eyed stare. “Gurl, you know the shit that Jay-Z be talkin’ ’bout in his songs that he be gettin’ for Beyoncé. Them bags.”

The girl who’d asked me about the bag turned from her friend and faced me again. “Damn. Where you get a fake. . . um . . . one them bags from? Chico only deals with Coach and Gucci,” she said. The other two girls nodded, waiting for my answer.

Exhaling slowly, I really had no words. I’d come so far from this . . . environment. “It’s not a fake. It’s real. I got it when my husband and I went shopping in New York.”

“Damn,” they all sang in unison.

“What kinda weight yo’ man pushing? He must be, like, a true supplier to be gettin’ you shit like that,” commented the girl who’d recognized the brand of my purse.

Ghetto birds. I couldn’t help but to snicker. “My man doesn’t push weight, darling. He has a job, and it’s legit. He’s a real estate investor,” I said curtly.

“Ooh. Oh, okay. Excuse me, then, girlfriend,” she said with her nose turned up.

Miss Head Ghetto Bird and her crew looked at each other, and I turned back toward my table. “Can we say boujee?” she joked in a fake whisper to her friends as they giggled.

I wanted to bring ghetto Trinity back on them and cluck her ass in the head, or even bring out a little of the educated Trinity and let her know the word was bourgeois. But I digressed. I wasn’t with Pooch. I was with Terrence, and he was a gentleman, so I was going to be a lady, even if I was at damn Kuma’s.

When Terrence came back with the food, the girls looked at each other and said in unison, “D-boy.”

Terrence looked at me strangely, obviously having overheard their assessment of him, but I shook my head, signaling that he should not ask. “I got us some burgers and fries.” He smiled as he placed a burger and fries in front of me and then sat down across from me.

“I see.” I lifted the greasy burger with the tips of my thumb and forefinger, placed it back down, and then grabbed a napkin to wipe my hands.

“Girl, stop. Act like you remember that you’re from the hood,” Terrence chastised with a smirk on his face.

Pointing my manicured nail at him, I said, “From the hood, but I don’t live there now, and I certainly don’t have to act like it. And why do you wanna act like it? You are far removed from that type of environment yourself, and your occupation certainly calls for you to be different. Ain’t this what you preach to Terry about every day?” I said, patting my fries with a napkin to get the grease out.

“Yeah, but I’m proud of my past. It made me the man I am today. I may not be proud of everything I’ve done, but I’m still the same hood nigga from the ATL. I just happened to make it.”

“Ain’t nobody denying their past or being ashamed of it, but I left the hood for a reason. Ain’t nothing wrong with acting civilized. It’s called growing the hell up,” I said and stuffed a fry in my mouth.

Terrence eyed me for a second, shook his head, and took a drink of his soda. For the rest of the time we were there, I may as well have been talking to the damn table. His answers were short and to the point, and most of them consisted only of yes or no, so I shut up, and we ate in silence for the last few minutes. So much for feeling the romance.

He stood up and stretched. “You ready to take it to the house?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, throwing my napkin over my half-eaten food.

“You barely touched your food. You must not have been hungry. I’m glad I spent only twenty bucks on a meal instead of two hundred if you were gonna eat like a bird,” Terrence said as I stood up.

Completely irritated, I shouted at him, “I didn’t eat it because I didn’t want Kuma’s.”

The girls snickered. “Boujee,” they chorused again as we walked by. Now I was blowed. I turned to face them.

“Look, gurl, the word is ‘bourgeois,’ that’s bursh-waa, and if that’s what I am, then so be it. At least I know the real from the fake, and I know how to pronounce Birkin, which is something your little ghetto ass may never have,” I said with plenty of attitude.

“Hold up now, boo,” snapped the ghetto bird who had been silent.

They all stood up, as if they were about to tag on my ass. I turned to look at them with my hands on my hips, ready to get it on and poppin’.

Terrence plastered on the brightest smile. “Ladies,” he said, “let it go. She’s just a little upset with me. Don’t take it personally. She’s a little bourgeois. She’s used to white tablecloth dinners and shit. Let me make it right with y’all.” He pulled out a grip of money.

“Damn. Where are you pushing, man?” the loud-mouthed one who had spoken to me asked him. At this point, they all looked at my husband as if they could eat him up.

He pulled off three one-hundred-dollar bills and handed each one of them skeezers a Benjamin. Then he shook his head. “I don’t push weight. I’m legit. You all do something nice for yourselves with that and have a good day,” he said and walked up by my side.

Their blushes were sickening. “Bye, boo. Thank you,” they all said together.

“And if you ever get tired of her bourgeois ass, come find me. I love Kuma’s. Wit’ yo’ fine ass,” the head ghetto bird with the loud mouth said to him.

Before I could run up on that ho, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, winked at them, and began to walk me out to the Range Rover. I pushed him off me. I was so fucking blowed.

As soon as we got in the truck, I gave his ass the business. “What the fuck was that all about?”

He shrugged and started the SUV. “What did you want me to do? Let them jump you?” he asked as he backed out.

“Let them jump me!” I yelled in disbelief. “No, you’re supposed to get an attitude with them broads and help me tag team them bitches.”

“So we can all go to jail, and then Pooch will know exactly where the fuck you are. That’s bright, Trinity. And you say you don’t act ghetto no more,” he said sarcastically.

My eyes narrowed to slits. I was seething. “I can’t believe you just came at me like that.”

“Li’l mama, calm the hell down.”

“I will not!” I yelled, turning in my seat to face him and go off. “I get a lame-ass twenty-dollar meal, and you peel off a hundred dollars for each of them broads as if it wasn’t shit.”

“For me, it ain’t shit,” he yelled back. “I’m a fucking multimillionaire. Damn,” he said, as if I weren’t aware. “Besides, you was the one poppin’ off on three chicks like you were being followed by a team of fucking security guards. This is Chi-town, Trin, not Evanston, and these females will get at you.”

“So your form of protecting me is to pay them off and flirt with them? Winking your eye and shit at them nasty skeezers.”

He scoffed, his irritation evident, before he smoothed his hand over his goatee. “Boy, oh, boy. What a fucking day.” He shook off my comment. “Look, if you want a nigga to go off about every little thing, then you shoulda stayed with Pooch, but you know how I am, and I don’t change for nobody.”

My mouth dropped open. I was stunned speechless for the first time in my life. I couldn’t believe how he was acting, let alone the fact that he’d just told me some shit like that. It was as if he didn’t even care about me. Did I even matter enough to him that he cared whether I stayed with Pooch? Apparently not. This could not be my husband. I had to be stuck in a remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers or something. As pissed as I was, I didn’t say shit to him. Honestly, I couldn’t, because anything I would’ve said at this point might have landed us in divorce court. I looked out the passenger’s-side window while I collected myself. We were off to a bad start, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t end on a good note. And given these past two weeks, we needed a good note.

I was so upset that I forgot to tell Dreads to go to a nice hotel, but it was cool, though. Consuela always took Tyson with her to run errands on Thursdays, so I figured she wouldn’t be home when we got there, which was indeed the case, judging from the note she left, stating they’d be back after 3:00 p.m.

Good. It was only 1:15 p.m. Maybe I could coax him into a nice quickie. Dreads ran upstairs to our bedroom, kicked his shoes off, and sprawled across the bed, and I jumped into the shower. Since time was of the essence, I was in and out, smelling fresh and sweet, and my body oiled down, in fifteen minutes. Rather than put on a teddy or a negligee, I came out completely naked and crawled on the bed. After straddling his back, I kissed his cheek, which stirred him awake.

“I know we were beefin’ a little bit ago, but let me make it up to you,” I whispered in his ear. “I know what to do to make it right.”

He turned on his back and put his hands behind his head. “Oh yeah?”

I smiled at him. “Yeah.”

I bent down and kissed him, but he seemed hesitant, as if he wanted to kiss me but didn’t at the same time. Still, I pressed on, moving from his lips to his neck and wrapping my fingers in his locks. He let a small moan escape but stopped there, as if he were trying to hold the rest in. I noticed he wasn’t holding me or caressing me. Nothing. I lifted his shirt to kiss on his hard abs.

“Baby, you’re so tense. Let me loosen you up,” I said and unbuckled his belt, then took it off. After easing down his shorts and boxers, I gripped his manhood in my hands and massaged it.

“Mmm. Oh yeah,” Terrence moaned as he closed his eyes and began to relax a little.

“That’s it.” I slid his manhood into my mouth.

“Ahhh,” he moaned. “Trinity.”

“Yes, baby?” I moaned in between sucks.

“Trinity, stop.”

“I promise I won’t make you cum like this,” I whispered and looked at him seductively.

“No, stop. For real.”

“Huh?”

He sat up. “Just stop. I can’t do this right now.”

“What the fuck is going on? What the hell do you mean, you can’t do this right now? It’s been two damn weeks since we’ve had sex.”

He stood, pulled up his boxers and shorts, and sat on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands. “I can’t do this.”

My frustration bubbled over. “Do what?” I asked, throwing my hands up.

“Us,” he said softly. He looked up at me, and his eyes were glossy. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “You don’t love me, Trinity.”

“What? Where? Huh?” I asked, so confused that I couldn’t even finish one question to ask the next.

“I was just a way out of your relationship with Pooch.”

“No. I’ve never felt like that. I love you. Where is this coming from?”

“You lied to me,” he screamed. “You were in your office, chatting with Aaron. Talking about our relationship to my cousin. Come on, man. How could you tell him what we discussed in confidence about our marriage?”

That was when it dawned on me, and I gasped. My cell phone. When I had sent Terrence into my office, I had left the text messages up on my phone. Damn. Damn me straight to hell. It all made sense now. His off-color comments, his attitude, his mood—everything.

Tears sprang to my eyes. “Baby, I’m sorry. I was just so upset that you thought that I would do you dirty. I needed someone to talk to who’d understand. I can’t talk to Lucinda, LaMeka, or Charice like I want to, and I was just so mad at you. Please don’t be upset.”

Terrence glared down at me, and his disappointment was evident. “Then why not talk to me about it?” he asked angrily, beating his chest. “I’ve never gone to Aaron and confided in him about anything about you, because we’re married. You’re my wife, Trinity! Not some gawddamn jump off. And you treatin’ me like a nigga off the street. I feel like I come second to Aaron in my own damn marriage.”

Hearing the hurt in his voice, I realized how wrong I was and how absolutely right he was. I would’ve been pissed if he had talked to any of my girls about our marriage instead of talking to me. I wiped my tears before I spoke again. “Baby, I shouldn’t have done that to you. I was so wrong for that, and I won’t ever do that again, but please believe me when I say that Aaron and I are just—”

“Friends?” he blurted, as if he were tired of hearing the word. “Yeah, so you keep saying, but what the fuck was he doing calling Princess ‘his’ baby? And what the fuck was he doing signing off with ‘Stay sexy, lovely lady’? And since when are you all messaging each other? I thought it was only emails and the occasional phone call. What’s the real reason you even left Pooch?”

“Wait, what?” I asked as I. . .