When A Bad Boy Wants Your Heart Read online

  Turning back to Dontrell, I pulled his engagement ring from my finger and threw it at him. It bounced off him and rolled a foot down the aisle. With that, I turned and walked quickly down the aisle with Sade close behind me. I felt lighter all of a sudden. I’d been holding that in and wanted nothing more than to tell everyone I knew what a lying asshole my fiancé was. But, at the same time, I felt incredibly sad.

  “You okay, Bo?” I heard Sade ask behind me.

  Turning to my best friend, I couldn’t have been happier that she was there in that moment with me. I nodded. “Yeah, I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

  “I got you,” she said then pulled my hand and took me out the side door.

  I knew I had let off a bomb in that place, and I would feel the effects for a minute afterward. But, right now, I just wanted to go somewhere and drink so I could forget all this shit. Dontrell was the last person I wanted to think about ever again.

  2

  Dominic “City” Bailey

  “What’s up, City?” this bad bitch named Armani said who walked over to me as I sat in the corner of one of my tattoo shops smoking a cigar and scrolling through my phone.

  I looked up at her and then back at my phone. “’Sup?”

  I wasn’t really trying to fuck with her, and to be honest, I’d been ghost from her for a couple weeks, ignoring her calls and text messages. But, she felt like she needed to pop up at my shop and show her face for whatever reason.

  “I missed you. Why you don’t answer my calls when I hit you up?” she asked while trying to sit down in my lap.

  I heard my nigga Guwop snicker to the left of me because I knew his ass was looking at us and wondering what I was about to do.

  She sat down in my lap, but I pushed her off me. She stumbled but caught herself and stood back up, looking down at me in surprise.

  “The fuck you doin’?” I asked with my face screwed up.

  If she knew anything about me, she would know I didn’t like people in my personal space, but she wanted to put her ass all up on me like we were cool.

  “Sorry, babe,” she said, standing up and pouting.

  “You better take yourself over there. Fuck you doin’?” I asked then looked back down at my phone. “We ain’t cool like that. You gotta sit, put your ass in the corner.”

  She hesitated and looked over at the corner where I motioned with my chin. There was an old chair standing over there that no one was using. She looked back at me she was wondering if I was serious.

  “I was just trying to see how you were doing, babe. Why you gotta be like that?” she whined. Her voice was aggravating, and I looked up at her again.

  “I done told you where you need to go. Quit standing over me and taking up my good air,” I said then took another puff on my cigar.

  Armani sighed all loud like that was supposed to do something to me, but she walked over to the chair in the corner and sat down on it. When she sat, it wobbled back, and she had to catch herself from falling off. That made me chuckle, but I looked back down at my phone and kept scrolling through my IG.

  My shop was vibin’ right now. We had Rick Ross playin’ in the background and four of my guys who worked for me were in the back doing jobs. One of my guys, Marcus, was chillin’ up front with me along with my receptionist, Tati, who had worked for me about six months now. My best friend, Guwop, stopped by to chop it up with me and shoot the shit for a minute so we were just catching up.

  “What you been on, nigga?” I asked and returned my attention to Guwop.

  My dude was dark skinned and cut up. He stayed in the gym even more than I did, and I was there at least three times a week. He had long ass dreads half way down his back and was forever cracking jokes and looking for the next hustle. They didn’t call him Guwop for nothing. I had known this man for ten plus years, and we rode hard for each other. He was a goofy motherfucker, always cracking jokes, but when he was on some serious shit, he was a real killa.

  “Straight chillin’,” he said while puffing on a blunt. He lit up and exhaled the smoke out into the shop. “Got some cars coming in tomorrow.”

  Guwop owned a couple shops where he sold and fixed cars. That’s what the government thought, anyway. Behind the scenes, he ran a chop shop and had a bunch of niggas running cars from all over the country through his shops. He made mad bread doin’ that shit too.

  I ran with him doin’ the illegal shit for a minute until ’bout three years ago when I turned twenty-four. I decided I wanted to do some other shit. Tattoos were my thing. I was tatted all the way up both arms, my whole back, and on my neck. I was a beast with the needle too, and the one shop I opened on South Beach almost three years ago had turned into five shops in New York, LA, Houston, Atlanta, and Charlotte. The name of my shop was City Ink, and my clientele was top notch. Celebrities stayed in my DMs booking appointments. Plus, I had a whole ass bag of IG models and hoes always trying to get at me, so I could bless them with my needle.

  Yeah, I fucked a few of them, not gonna lie, but I’m single as a dollar bill, so why the hell not? Plus, they loved the kid, so who was I to disappoint.

  Not that I was surprised any way; I was a fine ass nigga. Brown, smooth skin, white teeth, ’bout 6’2” with a body that stayed in the gym. Plus, I’d been single for a while, so there was a bunch of bitches basically knocking down the fucking door to get at me. I was good, though. None of them bitches were anything special, so apart from bending some of them over now and then, I was ridin’ solo.

  I glanced back in the corner at Armani. She had half her ass hanging off the chair as she tried to balance, while looking like a lost puppy. Her eyes met mine for half a second, but I looked away. I wasn’t trying to have her thinking I was giving her attention because then she would be up with the quickness and in my face.

  “You saw that live Rigs put up on his shop’s page?” Guwop asked me, and I sucked my teeth.

  “I ain’t sweatin that nigga,” I said with a frown.

  Rigs was my half-brother, but we’d had beef from ever since I could remember. His pops was my pops. Problem was, Pops was married to his mother and stepped out to knock up my moms. So, their whole family hated me since the minute I slid out. What made it worse was pops still loved my mother. She wasn’t some side chick he knocked up and regretted. Rigs and his moms knew that shit and hated us even more. Shit got worse after pops left Rigs’ mother couple years ago. He said his heart was somewhere else, and we all knew what that meant. But, my moms wasn’t fucking with him like that anymore anyway, she was out here livin’ her best life. That had nothing to do with me either way. Pops was a dope ass motherfucker, and we kicked it every couple weeks.

  He was the one who got me on my tattoo shit, to be honest. He owned a shop when he was younger and taught me a lot of what he knew. I guess he taught Rigs too because soon after I opened my shop, that nigga decided he was gonna open one too. His shop was called Legend. He stayed trying to one up me, and I didn’t know why because nobody was sweating him, especially not me. I was busy getting my shit right. My shop was doing numbers and stayed on the blogs. All my artists were dope as fuck, and we stayed booked for months. If there was a celebrity in town looking to get some ink, this was always gonna be their first stop. So, whatever Rigs had going on in his hood shit wasn’t about to faze me.

  “He was talkin shit, bruh. You should look at it. He didn’t say your shop directly, but he was talkin’ ’bout his shit is the best in Miami and fuck the competition,” Guwop said.

  “Fuck him, nigga is weak. I’m not stressin’ his ass,” I said, shaking my head as Guwop told me what Rigs was ranting about.

  “Bruh, you need to look at this shit,” my boy, Marcus, said, getting up from his seat a few feet in front of us and walking over to me.

  I turned to look up at him as he handed me his phone. His face was all scrunched up.

  “What?” I asked wondering what was up.

  “Look,” Marcus said, and Guwop scooted over to see wh
at he was talking about.

  I looked down at the phone and instantly saw red.

  The big ass headline on The Shade Room read, Tattoo rival claims City Ink uses infected needles.

  “The fuck!” I yelled and stood up with Marcus’ phone gripped in my hand.

  There were thousands of comments attached to this shit, and I was ready to pick somebody’s ass up and fight.

  “The fuck sayin’ that shit?” Guwop asked and leaned forward to look at the phone in my hand again.

  “Who else but that bum motherfucker Rigs?” I said while gritting my teeth. I was pissed. "Where this motherfucker at?” I fumed.

  “We ridin’?” Guwop asked standing up.

  “Fuck yeah,” I said.

  My jaw was flexing because I was hot. This shop was my livelihood. I put blood, sweat, and tears in this bitch. I started this shit from the ground up, so for somebody, especially this nigga, to throw dirt on my name and my reputation, I was ready to fuck shit up.

  My dude Marcus nodded too. “I’m comin too, fam,” he said.

  He was a light bright with a low cut, born and raised in Philly. He’d been with me since day one when I opened the shop, and I knew he would be ready to ride with me through whatever. I nodded and walked toward the door.

  Out the corner of my eye, I saw Armani scramble up off the seat I’d put her in and walk over toward me in a rush.

  “City, wait,” she said.

  I turned around quickly, and she stumbled as she almost ran into my back.

  “Get the fuck out my shop,” I said as I glared down at her.

  She looked up at me in surprise with her lips parted, but I wasn’t in the mood for the bullshit. Especially not now.

  “But…” she said, looking confused.

  “Did I motherfuckin’ stutter? Get the fuck out my shop. You bet not be here when I get back,” I said then turned and walked out the door.

  Guwop and Marcus rushed out behind me.

  Jumping in my Range, I sped down the street to where I knew Legend was. It was about to be a whole situation.

  3

  Bo

  “Uptown Vibes” by Meek Mill blasted over the surround sound in this bar that I was in with Sade and my other friend, Monica. I was on my fourth shot of Patron and feeling nice as fuck.

  “Tryna stop the wave, but the wave don’t stop!” I screamed as I held up my empty glass before I burst out laughing.

  “Woah, bitch, calm down,” Sade said while holding on to me as I stumbled forward.

  “I’m good, I’m good,” I said as I looked back toward the bartender and held up my index finger.

  I looked back at Sade, who was staring at me skeptically.

  “What? Look, I exposed a fuck boy,” I said, putting mad emphasis on the ‘fuck’, “for what a fuck boy was. That nigga’s picture is in Merriam Webster beside the definition for a fuck boy. On God. I’m celebrating my escape.”

  I giggled again as I felt the liquor flow through me. I saw Sade glance at Monica, but I didn’t care. I felt good. I felt lighter and fresher. I was happy that I’d done exactly what I did earlier.

  My phone buzzed again in my pants, and I glanced at it before rolling my eyes. I had seven missed calls from my mother, three from my sister, and one from my father. I also had one from Dontrell and a voicemail. I didn’t even want to check to see who that one was from.

  After we left the church, me and Sade went back to my house a few blocks away, so I could get out of the dress and into something comfortable. I didn’t know how to feel. I literally had been a mix of emotions ranging from delirious satisfaction to depression. It was like my emotions were on a rollercoaster. Dontrell was the only guy I was ever with. He took my virginity, and he was the only person I had said ‘I love you’ to. Now that I knew I couldn’t be with him anymore, I wasn’t sure how to feel. All I knew was that I wasn’t accepting any of the behavior he showed me that he was trying to give. I would never allow a man to treat me any kind of way just because he provided for me. I respected my own damn self too much for that.

  My friend, Monica, had met up with us when we got to the first bar two hours ago. Now we were on bar number two, and I was going in on the drinks. Just then, the bartender came back with another round of shots.

  “Thank you, boo!” I yelled, and she winked at me.

  “She’s cute,” Monica said, craning her neck to look at the bartender’s ass.

  Monica was bi-sexual and very open about it. I met her a few years back in college while she was studying to be a nurse, and we immediately hit it off. She’d told me that she had a little crush on me at first, but when I explained to her that I was strictly dickly, she fell back, and now we were really good friends.

  “Here’s to saying no to fuck boys and being bad bitches!” I said and handed the two of them their shot glasses while holding mine up in the air. I spilled a little as the clear liquid sloshed over the side.

  “Woah,” Sade said, stepping back and barely missing a few of the drops that spilled out.

  “What? It’s fine,” I said and rolled my eyes. The room was starting to tilt a little. “Cheers!” I yelled, and the three of us threw our shots back.

  Just then, Nicki Minaj’s “Fefe” came on, and I screamed.

  “Biiiitch! Come!” I said then put down the empty shot glass and grabbed both Sade and Monica’s hands. We rushed out to the dancefloor to turn up.

  “Pussy got that wet, wet, got that drip, drip, got that super soaker. Hit that she a Fefe her name Keke, she eat my dick like its free, free,” I belted out the lyrics to one of my favorite songs then bent over and started twerking my ass beside Sade who couldn’t resist dancing beside me.

  She was whining her hips and singing loud as fuck right beside me. Some of the guys in the bar turned to watch us dance, but I felt like I was in my own world.

  The three of us sang out loud together, “I don’t really want no friends, I don’t really want no friends no.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, I danced all my worries away. The DJ was on point, playing back to back hits. I didn’t even want to leave the dance floor.

  “Oh my God, I have to pee,” I said to Sade a little out of breath.

  “Okay, you want me to come with you?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll be right back,” I said.

  Walking away from her and Monica, I made it to the bathroom. I didn’t have to wait long for a stall, so I went in and did my business.

  As I was washing my hands, the bathroom door opened, and I rolled my eyes when I saw who stepped in.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at a wedding or somewhere?” Nichole’s sister, Nia, said when she walked into the bathroom with two other girls.

  I looked back into the mirror and blotted my lips with a napkin. “Oh, you didn’t hear the good news? Your sister’s baby daddy is back on the market.”

  “Oh really?” Nia said and crossed her arms in front of her.

  She had a smirk on her face ,and the way I was feeling, I couldn’t promise that I wasn’t about to throw some hands and snatch that smirk right off. Especially considering I was already off these drinks.

  “I thought that was the love of your life, though. How you let him get away?” she asked me with a hint of condescension in her voice.

  I turned from the mirror and walked over to her. She flinched as I got up close, and I knew off jump she wasn’t about that life.

  “I don’t owe you a fucking explanation about shit to do with my life. So, keep your comments to yourself, bitch, and go worry about your sister,” I said.

  “Bitch?” one of her little friends standing said.

  I looked over at her. “I said what I fucking said. Don’t address me, hoe.”

  The girl’s eyes got wide when I said that, and I sucked my teeth. Roughly pushing past them, I exited the bathroom. I was mad. Seeing Nichole’s sister made this whole situation even more real to me. I had tried not to think about Dontrell or the fact that h
e got a whole other bitch pregnant on me right before we were supposed to get married but seeing this girl in front of my face just made everything come back.

  Rushing back out to the dancefloor, I spotted Sade and Monica having a blast as “Plug Walk” played.

  “What’s wrong?” Sade asked as I approached.

  “I’m ready to go,” I said annoyed.

  “Okay, let’s go. Tell me what happened, though. You look upset,” she said while holding on to my hand as we walked toward the exit.

  “Hold up,” I said as we walked past the bar. I needed another fucking shot.

  Pulling out some bills, I slid them to the bartender then downed another shot of Patron.

  “You gonna be so hung over tomorrow, girl,” Sade said and held my hand while helping me out the club.

  “That’s the plan,” I said, shaking my head as I felt the liquid make my insides warm.

  We got to Sade’s black Benz, and I sat down in the passenger seat as my head began to throb. All I wanted at this point was my home and my bed, and to sleep for a hundred years so I could forget about the last 24 hours.

  A few minutes later, we pulled up to my house. I loved this location because it was right on the beach and close enough to the nightlife and a couple different shops, including some restaurants and this tattoo shop named Legend. So, there were always things to do. But, it was a few blocks away in a corner that was more residential, so it was relatively quiet.

  “Thanks, babe,” I said as Sade’s car pulled up outside.

  “Let me help you,” she said and unbuckled her seatbelt.

  “No, I’m fine. I swear,” I said, waving her off as I opened the door with my other hand.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I looked back at her and smiled even though my eyes were low. I was starting to feel that last shot. “I’m fine. I promise. You can watch me walk inside if you don’t believe me.”

  “Go, bitch,” Sade said and rolled her eyes.