you had better have your checkbook.
From the money he made off his clients, Jackie started flipping real estate. He bought a block of burnt-down row houses in Newark and opened up a book-distribution center and an hourly motel. If it had value, Jackie would buy and sell it. My man was making serious moves in the world, and he made sure I was at his side.
When he got his businesses up and popping, he made an honest woman out of me and threw a ring on my finger. Jackie went hard for the wedding. The cute little R & B singer with the funny face even came through to sing my wedding song. A bunch of hating-ass broads from the projects where I’d grown up were there, drinking my liquor and shooting me
prisons
. One of them even ended up throwing up all over one of the Porta-Potties we’d rented for the event. They tried to say it was from her drinking on an empty stomach, but I know the bitch was just sick with envy.
Once I jumped the broom, it was a whole different ball game. Jackie was good to me when I was his girl, and better when I became his fiancée, but when we got married, he made me feel like a queen. I was shopping two to three times a week and getting my hair done twice a week. Me even thinking about getting a job was out of the question: Jackie wasn’t having it. He wanted me to rest, dress, and do away with stress, and I wascontent to do so. He insisted that if I wanted to work, it would have to be at one of his businesses. I did bookkeeping for the distribution and the agency from home, and time to time I’d act as the manager down at the club. Other than that, I didn’t do much other than daydream and stay fly.
Don’t get me wrong—I’ve been working since I was twelve years old, without missing a day. Like I mentioned, my dad was in and out of our lives between prison terms, so I had to help my mother hold it down for me and my little brother, Randy. My mother always drilled into me the importance of being independent, and until Jackie, I had lived by it. But I can’t front. Being that I had worked for the last fifteen years of my life, nonstop, it kinda felt good to have somebody take care of me for a change.
Jackie was both a blessing and a curse in my life, which is probably true of 99 percent of husbands. He made sure life was good for us, and as his lady, I always stood in his corner, even when I might not have agreed with him. There was something about Jackie’s character that made it hard for you to say no to him. He had that effect on most people. My Jackie is quite the character . . . and did I mention that he is fine as all hell!
Six feet tall, with chocolate skin and a low-cut Caesar, real throwback Harlem. Jackie was sexy, but in a clean-cut sort of way. He carried himself like a businessman but had plenty of thug in him, especially in the bedroom. Jackie knew how to split me just the right way. Damn, I’m getting moist just thinking about it. When his brown eyes land on me, I feel the hunger stirring low in my kitty, wanting to gobble that thick pole hecalls a dick. As soon as he opens his mouth, the moment is ruined.
“You gonna just stand there, or you gonna give me my beer?” he asked, with a joint dangling from his mouth.
Jackie was never much of a smoker, but when his friends came around, he felt the need to step into character. From the way the air smelled, I knew they were blowing piff, not that crunchy shit, but that sticky-ass Broadway. I wasn’t much of a smoker either, but I’d take a toke or two off the haze when Jackie brought it home on those rare occasions. There’s something about that Barney that made me wanna get busy. Jackie usually bent me over and fucked me like a project bitch on those nights, but when he smoked heavy with his friends, I’d be lucky if he stayed awake long enough for me to suck him off, let alone bust mine.
“Here you go, baby,” I sat the Corona on the table in front of him. I make sure I lean in a little extra when I do this so he
From the money he made off his clients, Jackie started flipping real estate. He bought a block of burnt-down row houses in Newark and opened up a book-distribution center and an hourly motel. If it had value, Jackie would buy and sell it. My man was making serious moves in the world, and he made sure I was at his side.
When he got his businesses up and popping, he made an honest woman out of me and threw a ring on my finger. Jackie went hard for the wedding. The cute little R & B singer with the funny face even came through to sing my wedding song. A bunch of hating-ass broads from the projects where I’d grown up were there, drinking my liquor and shooting me
prisons
. One of them even ended up throwing up all over one of the Porta-Potties we’d rented for the event. They tried to say it was from her drinking on an empty stomach, but I know the bitch was just sick with envy.
Once I jumped the broom, it was a whole different ball game. Jackie was good to me when I was his girl, and better when I became his fiancée, but when we got married, he made me feel like a queen. I was shopping two to three times a week and getting my hair done twice a week. Me even thinking about getting a job was out of the question: Jackie wasn’t having it. He wanted me to rest, dress, and do away with stress, and I wascontent to do so. He insisted that if I wanted to work, it would have to be at one of his businesses. I did bookkeeping for the distribution and the agency from home, and time to time I’d act as the manager down at the club. Other than that, I didn’t do much other than daydream and stay fly.
Don’t get me wrong—I’ve been working since I was twelve years old, without missing a day. Like I mentioned, my dad was in and out of our lives between prison terms, so I had to help my mother hold it down for me and my little brother, Randy. My mother always drilled into me the importance of being independent, and until Jackie, I had lived by it. But I can’t front. Being that I had worked for the last fifteen years of my life, nonstop, it kinda felt good to have somebody take care of me for a change.
Jackie was both a blessing and a curse in my life, which is probably true of 99 percent of husbands. He made sure life was good for us, and as his lady, I always stood in his corner, even when I might not have agreed with him. There was something about Jackie’s character that made it hard for you to say no to him. He had that effect on most people. My Jackie is quite the character . . . and did I mention that he is fine as all hell!
Six feet tall, with chocolate skin and a low-cut Caesar, real throwback Harlem. Jackie was sexy, but in a clean-cut sort of way. He carried himself like a businessman but had plenty of thug in him, especially in the bedroom. Jackie knew how to split me just the right way. Damn, I’m getting moist just thinking about it. When his brown eyes land on me, I feel the hunger stirring low in my kitty, wanting to gobble that thick pole hecalls a dick. As soon as he opens his mouth, the moment is ruined.
“You gonna just stand there, or you gonna give me my beer?” he asked, with a joint dangling from his mouth.
Jackie was never much of a smoker, but when his friends came around, he felt the need to step into character. From the way the air smelled, I knew they were blowing piff, not that crunchy shit, but that sticky-ass Broadway. I wasn’t much of a smoker either, but I’d take a toke or two off the haze when Jackie brought it home on those rare occasions. There’s something about that Barney that made me wanna get busy. Jackie usually bent me over and fucked me like a project bitch on those nights, but when he smoked heavy with his friends, I’d be lucky if he stayed awake long enough for me to suck him off, let alone bust mine.
“Here you go, baby,” I sat the Corona on the table in front of him. I make sure I lean in a little extra when I do this so he
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