Wifey: Part 1

“So while I was calling you and texting you, you was fuckin’ that nigga, and that’s why you was ignoring me, right? Get the fuck outta my crib! And, like I said, consider yourself lucky you still fuckin’ breathing!”

Harry came up to me and tugged me, forcing me to go with him as I wailed and cried.

“This is not happening! That bitch caused me to lose my man! I don’t believe this shit!” I said out loud.

Nico shouted, “No, you caused this, Mia! Nobody forced you to open up your legs!”

“OK, I’m coming with you,” I said to Harry. “You don’t have to pull on me.”

Harry took me to the elevator and explained to me that he was just doing his job. “Is there someplace you could stay the night?”

I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I just paused for a few seconds because I felt like I was going to explode.

“I’ve seen these domestic violence situations before, and trust me, things escalate. So it’s better to leave the house now. In a day or two, no matter what it is, it can be talked out. But if you don’t walk away now, then emotions get more involved and common sense goes out the window, and the next thing you know, things happen that somebody ultimately regrets. You understand?”

I nodded my head. Then I asked Harry if he could go inside the apartment and get my bag with my car keys.

After he got the car keys for me, I got inside my truck and started the ignition. I sat for about five minutes with the engine idling. Then, right before I pulled off, I sent Sharmel a text: Nico showed me a video of Kelvin and I fucking. It’s over for me.

CHAPTER 26

Jasmine

It had only been six weeks since Nico dumped Mia and put her ass out. And within those six weeks, he had moved me in to live with him in the lap of luxury in his sprawling Long Island estate. Even though I had moved in with Nico, I was still in school for nursing. I had a longer commute to Brooklyn every day from Long Island, but it was OK because I got to commute in style in the brand-new all-white X6 that he’d bought for me.

Although I was enjoying the luxuries that came with being wifey, I was wondering just what had I walked myself into by wanting to be Nico’s main girl.

Within the three weeks I had been living with him, two different chicks came by the house looking for him while he wasn’t home. Both of the chicks had the same story and wanted the same thing. They both claimed that they used to mess with Nico and that he had gotten them pregnant, and they wanted to know what he was going to do about supporting his child.

None of the chicks was ghetto or stank in terms of how they spoke to me, so it made me think that there was a lot of truth to their stories. And because they weren’t stank with me, I wasn’t stank with them. But at the same time I was smart enough to know not to trust no chicks. I didn’t tell Nico that they came by. Let him find out on his own and clean up his own mess.

See, not too long ago I was the woman on the outside looking in, trying to get on the inside with Nico, and now that I had that position, there was no way I was going to give any woman even an inch with my man. Because, after all, it was only an inch I needed to bounce Mia out of the picture.

Truth be told though, the women who came by the house were not really my main concern. I was more worried about the cops and the federal agents who came knocking at our front door on several different occasions. But I really got alarmed the last time the feds came by looking to talk to me specifically.

I was just heading out the door and ready to go to school when two homicide detectives met me at the garage door.

“Excuse me, Jasmine,” one of the detectives said to me. “Do you mind if we talk with you for a moment?”

They had flashed their badges, so I knew they were legit. What had me nervous was, they knew me by my first name.

“Well, actually, I’m in a hurry, kind of late for school, so I don’t really have too much time. But I can give you a few minutes.” I didn’t want to totally brush them off and make myself look worried about something.

One of the officers took out a pen and a small pad. “OK, we appreciate it. So, Jasmine, do you know why we’re here?” he asked me.

I was no dummy, and Nico had coached me well on how to talk to the feds and to the police. An innocent person is always direct and never vague, while a guilty person is always vague and rarely direct. So that was why I wanted to be as direct and clear with my answers as possible.

“You’re trying to find out information on my ex-boyfriend Shabazz,” I said.

The agent nodded his head as he looked at me, and then he said, “We’ve interviewed a lot of people about Shabazz’s death and the drugs found inside his vehicle at the time of his death, and the pieces are falling together quickly. If you had anything to do with his murder, you should come clean and make it easier on yourself.”

“I don’t know anything about how he died, or who was involved, or why there were drugs in his truck.”

“Did you know any of the people Shabazz associated with on a regular basis?”

“You mean, his friends?”

“Yes, his friends or associates.”