So in Love with Him

by D. Brown-Newton

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

When Tami’s husband’s infidelity becomes too much to bear, she seeks love in the arms of another man.

Tami has played the fool one too many times and has had just about enough of her cheating husband’s promises. When her husband of four years, Messiah, brings home a baby that doesn't belong to her, Tami has to admit that her current relationship status is toxic. While she feels that her world has been turned upside down, Tami chooses to stand by her man and is determined to make her relationship work. When the lies and disrespect become too much for even Tami to bear, will she find comfort in the arms of someone else?

Caught between two men, Tami is forced to make a decision. Who will she choose when her head and her heart are leading her in two different directions? Will Envy be content to continue to sit on the sidelines while Tami makes her decision, or will he find someone who isn’t afraid to admit that she wants him as much as he wants her? Will Messiah be able to convince Tami that he’s a changed man and the mistakes of his past won’t continue to affect their future? Or will Tami finally realize that, in this dangerous game of life, the only person she can truly count on is herself?

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Why the fuck are you always bitching?” I asked Tara’s annoying ass because this bitch was never fucking satisfied.

“I’m always bitching because you always come here, get your dick wet, and then fucking leave to go back home to that bitch-ass wife of yours,” she shouted.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Tara,” I warned as I continued putting on my clothes so I could get the fuck up out of her crib before I snapped her fucking neck.

“That’s the shit I be talking about. You let that bitch say what the fuck she wants about me and my son, but I have to watch my fucking mouth. I’m so over this shit,” she shouted, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

No matter how many times I tried to do the right thing, she was never fucking happy, like she didn’t know that I had a wife before laying up with me and having my son, Messiah Junior. I had been married for four years and had been fucking with Tara for about two years. My wife, Tami, found out about her when Tara made it known that she was pregnant with me. Tami left me for a good two weeks before realizing that she wasn’t about to leave me just so some hood rat chick could have me—her words. I told her that I was done fucking with Tara, and it was just about my son, but I never stopped fucking with her. Tara was on that dumb childish bullshit, and any time I told her that I wasn’t fucking with her anymore, she would make it hard for a nigga to see his fucking son. All I was trying to do was keep the peace, so that I didn’t have to deal with the bullshit.

“Yo, come out of the fucking bathroom so that I can be out. I’ve got some shit I need to handle. I’ll be back to check on you and shorty later on tonight,” I yelled at the closed door.

She came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel, causing my dick to swell, and as much as I wanted to run up in her ass again, I knew I better head out before Tami’s ass came looking for me.

“Dada’s been blowing me up, so I need to go and see what that shit is about,” I told her, but she gave me a look that let me know she didn’t believe me.

She stood there with an attitude, so to avoid an argument, I left a stack on the nightstand and bounced. I bet her ass wasn’t that fucking mad because, if she were, she wouldn’t have taken my ends. I jumped into my ride to head home, mentally trying to prepare myself for another argument that I knew was waiting on my ass. I knew that I had told Tara that I had business to handle, but I didn’t have any business to handle. It was Tami’s ass blowing me up because I didn’t take my ass home last night.

My jaw tightened as soon as I pulled up to my crib, seeing that Tami had all of my fucking clothes and sneakers thrown out all over the place. She was always on this bullshit that was starting to blow my mind with her stupid ass. I told her ass time and time again that if she was upset with me, it was cool, but don’t fuck with my shit.

The front door opened with her best friend, Rema, standing in the doorway, like she was her fucking bodyguard or some shit. Rema was cool because she rocked with my wife hard, but sometimes, she took the shit too far with her fucking mouth when it came to being in my fucking business.

“Messiah, she doesn’t want to see you, so you need to leave,” she said with a roll of her eyes like she was really going to stop me from entering my crib.

I pushed past her ass like she didn’t say shit because, if she knew what was good for her, she would take her ass home before she got fucked up.

“Don’t come in here with your bullshit excuses because I’m done with you and your bullshit,” Tami yelled, coming down the stairs.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Tami? You know I was out there handling fucking business. I’m sick of you with these bullshit tantrums every time I’m not able to answer your fucking calls,” I barked at her ass.

“So, you’re going to stand here and act like you weren’t laid up with that bitch, Siah?” she yelled, grabbing her phone and showing me some fucking Facebook post that Tara posted last night.

I couldn’t say a fucking thing because the same fucking clothes that I walked in wearing were the same fucking outfit in the picture. I swear I was fucking Tara up on sight because I told her ass to stay in her fucking lane and to stop thinking this shit was a fucking game.

“I told you to leave this trifling motherfucker alone because he loves them fucking hood rat bitches that don’t have shit going for them but a wet, fucking pussy. That bitch isn’t good for nothing but lying on her fucking back, but he keeps playing you to be with the ho,” Rema said to Tami, but was looking at me.

“Rema, you need to mind your own fucking business and worry about who the fuck your nigga is laying up with while you’re over here in my shit,” I told the bitch since she wanted to stand here and act like my nigga, Damien, a.k.a. Dada, wasn’t out there doing him.

“I bet you one thing: my motherfucking nigga knows where home is, and if he is out there fucking with those hood rats, I bet you his ass has enough respect for me not to bring that shit home. Cheating is one thing, but to cheat and bring home a fucking baby and continue fucking the ho is some straight disrespectful shit. Tami, I’m out because all this nigga is going to do is have a million fucking excuses about why he keeps fucking the bitch. And please don’t use the ‘She’s not going to let you see your son’ shit again because we all know that that’s an easy fix. Take your fucking ass to the courthouse, nigga, if the bitch isn’t allowing you to see your son,” she yelled, leaving.

“Fuck you, Rema,” I yelled behind her. “Tami, you need to keep that bitch out of our fucking business. That’s why shit is the way it is because you’ve always got her ass in your ear,” I said.

“Nigga, please. I didn’t have to tell her anything. Who the fuck you think let me know your fucking ass was laid up with that bitch again? If you want to be with that bitch, then be with her. If not, you need to take your ass to court and see your fucking son without having to see her. Every time you give me some lame-ass excuse why you didn’t go to court for visitation tells me it’s not about your son; it’s about how you love fucking with that bitch,” she cried as the tears fell from her eyes.

“Look, ma, why you keep doing this shit to yourself? I’m going to do this shit the right way. I promise,” I replied, wiping her tears.

I knew she felt some kind of way that Tara had my first son, as she should, but I needed her to understand that I knew I fucked up. All I was trying to do was keep the peace, but I saw that Tara wasn’t going to make this shit easy until Tami fucked around and left my ass. Tami already had enough grief dealing with her family, who kept telling her how stupid she was for staying with me, and now, all of her friends were in her ear, so I felt that she was just about at her breaking point. She was getting fed up with my ass, and I needed to make shit right before I lost my wife for good.

The Ave had mad fucking beauty salons, so I knew that this bitch, Tara, walking into the one Rema and I frequented meant she was here to start some shit. I never saw her bald-headed ass at this shop before because the bitch knew she couldn’t afford these prices without lying on her fucking back. I couldn’t believe that Siah even fucked with this average-looking bitch because she couldn’t hold a candle to my ass. The bitch’s whole outfit looked like it came from the Rainbow shop down the fucking block. You would think that after having a baby by a nigga like Siah, she would have upgraded by now, but the bitch didn’t know anything other than being a hood rat.

“I can’t believe Messiah fucked with that dirty, fucking ho,” Rema said to me, but was loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Ain’t a motherfucking thing dirty about me, bitch,” Tara boasted.

“Please don’t stand there acting like you’re that bitch because you managed to trap a real nigga who wouldn’t even give you the time of day if it wasn’t for his fucking son,” Rema shouted.

“So, that’s what he’s telling you pathetic bitches these days? Did he tell you every time he comes to my crib, my son is never there? Trust when I say it’s not my son that keeps him coming back; it’s this fire pussy I’m working with that keeps this nigga on his knees,” she said, hitting a nerve.

I jumped up so fast that no one could have stopped me if they tried. I was whooping her ass, making sure that she was going to have to use every fucking dime he gave her to get her shit fixed. I tried to tear every strand of fucking hair she had from her fucking scalp as she screamed out in pain. I knew that I shouldn’t have stooped to her level, but her mouth wrote a check that her ass couldn’t cash. She tried fighting back, but all the rage I had built up in me from the time all this back-and-forth started had me on ten. If Rema hadn’t pulled me off her ass, I was going to kill her because all I saw was red. Well, I thought Rema was pulling me off her to help the ho, but Rema started whaling on her ass just as Tara’s friend walked in the shop, pushing a stroller that I was assuming belonged to Tara. This was my first time seeing the baby up close and personal, so my emotions got the best of me as the angry tears fell because I just whooped a bitch’s ass when I should have been whooping Siah’s ass. I watched as Paris and another hairstylist pulled Rema and Tara apart, telling Tara that she needed to go.

“Bitch, you did all of that for what? Trust me when I say that the nigga is still going to fuck with me, and you best believe I’m going to see that ass again. Don’t be mad at me; be mad at your nigga. He’s the one who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I’ll be sure to tell him his stupid, fucking wife was out here acting like a hood rat when I was out here with Messiah Junior,” she smirked, leaving the shop.

I really couldn’t even be mad at what she just said because it was the truth. If Siah wanted to stop fucking with her, he would have by now, I thought before hearing Tara scream.

Rema snatched her by her weave just before the door closed, causing the stroller to jerk, and I thanked God that her friend caught the baby because the stupid bitch didn’t even have him strapped in. I knew that I should have snatched Rema up quicker, but all I could think at the moment was that Rema was my bitch and would always be my bitch. Mila J’s song “My Main” would always be our theme song because she was my ride or die, and she didn’t give a fuck. Right or wrong, she had my back, and that was why I loved her ass.

“Rema, let the bitch go,” I pleaded with her, trying to pry her hands from Tara’s hair.

Finally, Rema let her hair go, but not before kicking her, and at this point, we got kicked out of the salon too. Once in the car, the hurt was evident on my face, and Rema tried to tell me not to sweat it because, although Siah had a baby on me, she knew for a fact that he loved me. I didn’t doubt that he loved me; it was just the fact that he had a kid, and everyone knew that this bitch was his baby’s mother.

He had me out here in these streets looking like a damn fool as he ran up in that busted bitch raw like he didn’t have a fucking wife at home. I swear, no one knew how much it hurt me to see that baby looking just like his ass. Looking at the pictures that I’d seen, I convinced myself that the baby looked nothing like him, but that was far from the truth. Siah thought that my having his baby was a quick fix to how I was feeling about the situation, but he just didn’t get it. Why would I get pregnant when he was still fucking with her, not giving a fuck about my feelings, so having his baby was going to change what? Not a thing, and it was time for me to figure out if I wanted to continue being his wife because I damn sure didn’t feel like his wife anymore. He had this bitch thinking that she was on some kind of pedestal because, every time she called, he went running, no matter what we had going on at the time.

“Listen, I have watched you take Messiah’s shit for the past two years, and now he has a fucking newborn. If you want your marriage, you’re going to have to put your fucking foot down and let this nigga know enough is enough. He does this disrespectful shit because you allow him to keep doing it and taking his ass back. You saw the damn post with your own eyes, and you let him feed you some bullshit, and now, all is good like the shit didn’t happen. I’m going to keep it real with you. You give Siah no consequences for the bullshit he puts you through, so why would he change the shit he’s doing in these fucking streets?”

“Rema, I just be trying to give him the benefit of the doubt because you know, just like I know, that the bitch do be holding that fucking baby over his head,” I explained to her.

“Tami, do you think a nigga like Messiah would ever let a bitch play him? That nigga is feeling that dusty, fucking bitch. If he wasn’t feeling that bitch, trust me, not even a damn baby would keep him fucking with her ass. You have to step up your game if you want your marriage before you lose his ass to that hood rat. As you can see, she still looks like a damn two-dollar ho, but she keeps him coming back.”

I heard everything that she was saying and was taking it all in because she was right, and I needed to do something, and do it sooner rather than later. I wasn’t going to sit back and let this bitch take what was rightfully mine because I was Mrs. Messiah Owens.

After Rema and I finished getting our hair done at another shop, I dropped her off at her car before heading to the mall, then going home to deal with my cheating husband. I already knew that the bitch probably called him and twisted the story because he was blowing me up, but I refused to answer. If he wanted to talk to me, it would have to be when I walked through the door.

News traveled fast because my mother left me a not-so-nice message, yelling about Siah having me acting a fool in the streets, like I wasn’t raised with some dignity. She had some damn nerve talking about how I was raised. Oh, how quickly she forgot. I was so sick and tired of her and the rest of my family always believing shit that they heard in these fucking streets before getting it from me. I loved my family, but sometimes, I just wished that they would let me live my fucking life and learn from whatever mistakes they claimed I was making. My dad was the only one who gave me the benefit of the doubt because I was his baby girl, and he would never believe no shit about me that he heard from the streets. If I were in the streets fighting as a hood rat, like my mother claimed, trust me when I say that my dad knew I must have had a damn good reason.

Damn, shorty’s bad, I thought as I watched how the skirt she was wearing hugged her hips as she swished her ass, knowing she was that bitch. I almost forgot that I was at the mall with Camilla until I heard her slick-ass mouth.

“I know you’re not ho watching like I’m not standing right fucking here,” she barked loud enough for the female to hear.

“Camilla, stop playing,” I demanded, heated, but she didn’t care because all she did was laugh.

I hated coming to the mall with my annoying-ass sister because, any time I even looked in the direction of a female, she always did this stupid shit. She would always pretend like she was my girl if she caught me looking or talking to another female, which always ran them off.

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help it this time because your ass was drooling from the mouth, and I told you to stop trying to pick up bitches when you were with me. Not one of these females knows that I’m your sister, so all they see is your thirsty ass with a female and still trying to pick up another one,” she explained, still laughing.

“Nah, they see a fine-ass brother like myself, and they’re wondering what I’m doing walking with a chickenhead,” I joked, mushing her ass and walking away from her.

“Meet me at the food court in like thirty minutes,” I yelled over my shoulder.

I came to the mall with her annoying ass to help her find a prom dress because my mother wasn’t feeling well today. My mother had been under the weather for a few weeks now, and I had been trying to convince her to let me take her to the doctor. She was stubborn and lived by her home remedies, but I tried to convince her that the shit wasn’t working because, had they been working, she wouldn’t still be sick. She kept talking about she just needed to give it time to kick in, but I told her that she had until the end of the week to show improvement, or I was dragging her ass, kicking and screaming, to the doctor.

I walked into the store behind shorty to see if she would let me holla at her for a minute after leaving my sister, but I didn’t want her to think that I was on some stalker shit. Since she was in Sephora, a store I didn’t usually shop at, I pretended to be a regular and picked up a bottle of cologne. I didn’t even wear the shit they had in the store, but I took the cologne and quickly went to check out because she was already at the register.

“That will be $208,” I heard the cashier tell her.

“Let me take care of that for you,” I requested, looking at her but handing the cashier my card.

“Trust me when I say I don’t need you to pay for anything of mine.” She kindly declined, handing me back my card after taking it out of the cashier’s hand.

The cashier looked amused as we went back and forth while holding up her line because I was persistent about paying for her items. A nigga like me was used to getting my way, and today would be no different. Shit, she already had me stepping out of my character, following behind her ass into the store like I wasn’t that nigga.

“What would your little girlfriend think about you up in here, trying to pay for my items?” she asked, causing the cashier to look at me for a response.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I told her, handing the cashier my card again, and this time, she let the cashier charge the items.

“What’s your name, shorty?” I asked her once we were both outside the store.

“My name is Tami. Thank you for your kind gesture, but I’m spoken for,” she said, walking off.

“Hold up. Just give me a few minutes of your time.” I grabbed her hand, stopping her.

When I released her hand, she just stood there, waiting for me to speak, but for some reason, my eyes were now fixated on her breasts that looked to be about a 36C. My eyes traveled, taking her in as she cleared her throat, bringing me back from the nasty thoughts that I was having.

“My bad, shorty. What are you about to get into?” I asked her.

“What was the point of asking me my name if you’re still going to call me shorty?” she sassed.

“My bad. I’m about to go to the food court to get something to eat. Come with me, and let a nigga treat you to something to eat,” I said.

“I don’t know you, and like I said before, I’m spoken for,” she smirked, walking off.

“Damn, shot down in broad daylight,” I heard my sister say, laughing like the shit was funny.

“Nah, she probably saw your ass coming and didn’t want any problems,” I tried to convince her.

“Whatever. I’m hungry. Let’s go eat because this mall is wack. I didn’t even find a dress yet,” she whined, pulling me toward the food court.

After getting something to eat, I headed back to my mom’s crib to drop off Camilla and to check up on my mom. I promised my sister that I would take her out to Jersey next weekend because she kept complaining that the mall didn’t have anything. I knew it had to do with her not wanting to show up to prom wearing the same dress as another female, so next weekend, I would be spending it at a mall again with her annoying ass. Once I checked on my mom, making sure she was good, I headed out to meet up with my dude, Mason, because I stayed at the mall with Camilla longer than I intended to.

“Nigga, you’re always fucking late when you know I told them dudes we would meet with them at 1:00 p.m. This being late shit isn’t cool for business,” he snapped like he forgot who the fuck he was talking to.

“Nigga, you need to bring it all the way down. I move how I move, and if those niggas have a problem with it, I’ll handle that shit,” I spat at his ass.

This nigga needed to start realizing that he was fucking with a boss nigga. He was acting like we needed those dudes when they needed us. If I kept their asses waiting all day, you best believe they would wait because I had the product that they needed to make their fucking money.

“Let’s go get this money with yo’ weak ass,” I told him, laughing.

“Whatever, nigga,” he said, jumping into his ride and pulling off after I got in the passenger seat.

I understood where he was coming from about keeping niggas waiting and shit, but he had to understand that we were the boss niggas, so if something came up and the time changed, he needed to let those niggas know that they had the option to wait or keep it pushing. It was just that simple. Stressing me about niggas complaining wasn’t going to take food out of my mouth when I had mad motherfuckers waiting in line to keep me eating.

I was tired as hell by the time I got back to the crib, and all I could think about was shorty, whom I met today, wondering what she was doing right now. I wished that Camilla hadn’t cock blocked. I probably would have gotten her number, even if she didn’t want to let me treat her to something to eat. I showered and took my ass to bed because I had shit to do tomorrow, hoping that maybe I’d run into her ass again. I woke up to my phone ringing. I tried to ignore it because I was tired as hell, but it just wouldn’t stop. Finally, I grabbed the phone, seeing that it was my sister calling.

“Hey, Camilla. What’s up?” I asked her.

“E, I’m at the hospital with Mom; she wasn’t feeling well. I’m scared, E,” my sister cried.

“Camilla, what hospital is she in?” I asked her, already getting dressed.

I knew that I should have stayed earlier when my mother was telling me she was okay, even though she didn’t look all right. I let my business cloud my judgment, not taking heed of her not looking good. Once I arrived at the hospital, I spoke with the security guard, who let me go to the back to see what was going on with my mom. I didn’t have to go to the desk because I saw Camilla, so I walked over, putting on my game face because I knew that I needed to be strong for her. They had an IV in my mom’s arm, and she was now sleeping peacefully, but her face still looked a little pale and had me wondering what was going on with her.

“So, did they say anything about what’s wrong?” I asked Camilla.

“Well, for one, the doctor said that she was very dehydrated, and she came in with a fever of 102, so they put her on an IV and took some blood. She became so weak at home, scaring the shit out of me, and when I saw that she was burning up, I got her here as quickly as I could,” she said, tearing up.

“It’s okay. You did the right thing by getting her here. Now, we just have to wait to see what’s going on with her,” I told her, trying to comfort her.

I was tired as hell going to work because Siah and I were arguing for most of the night and well into the morning. He had the nerve to be mad at me because his busted fucking baby mother got her ass whooped while she was with her son. If she knew that she had her son with her, she shouldn’t have been popping off at the fucking mouth. I told his ass I was tired of defending myself when it came to his fucking slut bucket, and he could kick fucking rocks and do him because I was going to do me. He didn’t like that shit, threatening me in one breath and then asking me if I was fucking around on him in the next breath. I was so over his bullshit and refused to sweat the bullshit he was on these days, and if he didn’t believe me when I said I was done unless he cut the bitch off, I could definitely show him better than I could tell him.

I loved my job, working as a registration clerk at the county hospital, but sometimes, it could be so depressing. But at the same time, it was a reminder that someone was always worse off than you, which, in turn, helped me to stop complaining so much. I clocked in, putting my phone on vibrate because I knew that Siah was going to be blowing me up all day, and I wasn’t trying to answer any of his calls unless he was calling to tell me he told that bitch he wasn’t fucking with her anymore.

“What’s up, shorty?” I heard from behind me. Turning around, I saw that it was the dude from the mall.

“How are you doing, Tami?” he retracted when he saw the look on my face, remembering what I told him about calling me shorty.

“I’m fine, and you?” I asked, being polite.

“A nigga’s stressing right now because my mom is here in the hospital,” he said with a sad look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she gets better soon,” I told him.

“Thank you. Is everything good with you and your people?” he questioned, assuming I was here for the same reason that he was.

“Yeah, I work here, though, and I already clocked in, so I have to go,” I said, looking around, making sure my supervisor wasn’t watching me.

“Cool. I didn’t get a chance to ask you for your number the other day,” he said. “Look, before you tell me again . . .