Thirsty for a Boss 2: I Don't Want to Be Loved

By Aisha Linnea

Yet again Layla believes that she has landed herself a boss. The moment she thought she could slither her way back into Dymir's life she experiences a rude awakening when Justice proves that she isn't going to give him up without a fight. When Dymir openly proclaims his love to Justice, Layla plots revenge and sets her scandalous sights on whom she feels is the next best contender, LA.
Layla and LA are two of a kind. Both sneaky and conniving matching each other's sly. Neither of them are in search of love. Initially coming together to prove a point to Dymir and Justice, they soon discover that they actually may have feelings for each other. But no one anticipates what will happen when everything doesn't go as planned.
Will Layla and LA get to live happily ever after? Or will karma have the biggest feast ever eating up everyone involved alive? Lines of loyalty are crossed and unexpected bonds are formed as the duo look forward to the biggest come up of their lifetime. There's only one way to find out. Dive into the pages of Thirsty For A Boss 2 : I Don't Wanna Loved

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royalty Publishing House
• Release date: Oct 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781648403521

Book preview

1

A light bulb suddenly turned on inside of Justice’s head.

Hold down the store while I go and handle something, she instructed her assistant sales associate.

As Justice walked toward the boutique’s exit, she removed the white Gold hoop earrings she was wearing and pulled back her hair using a rubber band. With every step she took, the anger built up within, so much so that it drove her to tears. She was in disbelief that Dymir had just walked out on their grand opening to entertain Layla. Not only that, but he didn’t acknowledge the fact that they had taken their relationship to the next level. We only had sex. Am I thinking it’s more than what it is?

Justice angrily power walked to the mall’s exit. She stopped for a second to gather all of her thoughts because her mind was going a mile a minute. Glancing out of the door, she could see Layla and Dymir at the end of the walkway facing each other in deep conversation. Pushing through the door with all of her strength, Justice burst through the doors like a bat out of hell.

Layla and Dymir were so engulfed in their conversation that they didn’t notice her approaching. As Justice came closer, she could hear them talking.

Layla, why would you come here acting like that toward Justice? I don’t understand what the fucking problem is between y’all.

"You are the problem, Dee. What the hell did she mean when she said ‘are you going to tell her about us?’ I know you’re not fucking with her chipmunk looking ass. This is what happens when I’m not around? I knew all that lil’ sister shit was phony!" Layla ranted.

Yo, chill! I know your mother died and all, but you just left me hanging… no calls or anything. Layla, I’m looking for something real, and your little disappearing act was out of the blue.

Disappearing act? I told you my mother passed away, and I just wanted to be alone. You mean to tell me that you’ve moved on that fast with that ugly ass bitch you called your fucking sister!

Bitch, ugly? Where? Justice surprisingly questioned as she walked up out of nowhere.

I’m sick and tired of your lil’ scandalous ass. You’re nothing but a thirst trapping, phony ass, Instagram wanna-be model! Bitch, your mother ain’t—

The crackle of Layla’s hand connecting to Justice’s cheek caught Dymir by surprise before Justice could spit out another word. Justice hadn’t pondered the idea of Layla possibly smacking the taste out of her mouth. Even though it caught her by surprise, it didn’t stop Justice from releasing her wrath upon her. Unbeknownst to Layla, she had opened the gates of hell by putting her hands on Justice. After wrapping Layla’s long ponytail tightly around her fist, she repeatedly dragged and beat her in the face. Layla caught a beat down that wasn’t just meant for her, but for everyone Justice thought had played with her feelings in the previous months. Brody, Dymir, and Layla were responsible for the anger Justice held deep within, and Layla was paying the full price.

Dymir stood by in shock for a moment with his hand over his mouth as Justice did Layla dirty. He didn’t know Justice had it in her. Within a matter of seconds, he had gained a whole new respect for her. Layla wasn’t even close to being ready for the lashing that Justice was giving her.

Get this bitch off of me! Layla cried out to Dymir, breaking him out of his state of shock. Justice kept beating her like she stole something. In Justice’s mind, Layla did steal Dymir, and this was her punishment.

Get her off of me! Layla demanded once again. Dymir stepped in, pulling Justice back, but she refused to release her grip from Layla’s hair. By the time Dymir got them completely apart, Justice had a hand full of Layla’s real hair tangled in her finger tips. For a few minutes, Justice had lost her mind. When she finally came to her senses, she realized that she let Layla get her out of character. Justice took a few steps back.

I can’t believe this shit! I’m out here fighting this nothing ass bitch over your no good ass while I have a whole store to run! I’m fucking done! I swear! Justice yelled. She threw her hands up and ran back to the entrance of the mall.

Realizing all of the drama he had caused, Dymir felt guilty. He started to follow behind her.

Wait, Justice! Dymir called out as he left Layla standing there to pull herself together.

Fuck you, Dymir! Leave me alone! Justice shouted back as she had picked up her pace to get back into the mall. Layla stood there with a badly bruised face and her knees scuffed up from Justice swinging and dragging her across the pavement. She was pissed because Dymir was running after Justice and not tending to her.

What the fuck, nigga? I know you better get back here, she hollered out to Dymir, but her demands fell on deaf ears. When it all came down to it, Dymir was only concerned about Justice’s well-being. Layla watched as he chased behind her. That all too familiar feeling of rejection shot through her mind and body, and burned her soul like poison. She gazed as Dymir disappeared back into the mall with no concern for her. Layla’s mind began to drift, thinking back to one of the many moments her own father had made her feel the same way…

Layla played with her doll like a good little girl, sitting on the living room floor. She heard the all too familiar sounds of lust coming from her mother’s bedroom.

Yes, Daddy! Yes! her mother shouted as the thumps against the wall became louder. After a few minutes had passed, Layla’s father surfaced from the room fixing his pants and belt buckle. From the moment the bedroom door flew open, Layla stared into his eyes. He stood six feet tall and was the same complexion as her. They even had the same coal black curly textured hair. She wanted nothing but the love of her father like every other little girl in school. He stared back at her, but love was the last thing she could see in his eyes. He made his way toward the door and exited. Layla ran up to the door and shouted through the screen.

Bye, Daddy!

Stopping dead in his tracks, he turned back around and walked to her. He pointed right at her with his index finger.

Little girl, I ain’t your fucking daddy.

He turned away and walked to his car that was parked in front of their house, leaving seven-year-old Layla with a crushed heart. Layla’s mother appeared behind her holding a stack of cash in her hand, thumbing through a couple twenty dollar bills.

Come on, baby girl. Don’t worry about Daddy. Let’s get dressed, and mommy will take you shopping.

Layla snapped out of her flashback at the sound of the mall security guard’s voice.

Ma’am, are you okay?

She shot an evil eye at the security guard’s stupid question because he could clearly see that someone had just fucked her up. Picking up her cellphone from the ground, a now angry Layla stormed back to her car. Scrolling through her contacts, she stopped at L.A.’s info and dialed him up.

2

L.A. was awakened from his overnight slumber by the dinging sound of his text message notifications. He stared at the ceiling in his baby mother’s room for a moment while trying to get a hold of his thoughts. Tarsha lay upon his chest still sleeping with her arm wrapped around his waist. He gently moved her arm so that he could reach to the floor to get his phone. After placing his thumb on the button to unlock the screen, he read the text that came through from Dymir.

Dymir: Are you ready?

L.A.: Born ready, dawg

After responding to the message, he lay back on the pillow with thoughts of frustration running through his head. L.A. was still in disbelief that Dymir had taken it upon himself to decide that their days of running the heroin game in the B-more streets were numbered. Who the fuck does this nigga think he is?

It had been a whole two days since L.A.’s last hit of smack. L.A. was really trying to rid himself, cold turkey, of the nasty heroin addiction he had developed. It was beginning to fuck with his head. He had horrible mood swings and his temper was short. He couldn’t control the itch that burned beneath his skin. His insides were quivering for another taste. Tarsha commenced caressing his body. Starting from his chest, she massaged her way to his abs, leading to the head of his limp dick. Slowly, she stroked him, hoping to bring it to life. L.A. was too engulfed with his thoughts to pay her any mind.

Damn, Lamont! What’s up with you? You’ve been really disconnected here lately. Are you fucking with another bitch? Tarsha accused, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Look, Tarsha… I don’t have time for any bitches right now. I have too much on my mind.

Well, tell me what’s wrong. Nigga, your dick won’t even get hard!

L.A. shoved Tarsha off of him, pissed at the fact that she insulted him.

Man, I’ve gotta go. You’re fucking tripping!

Grabbing his phone, L.A. got out of bed and headed to the shower. He turned on the water so that it was scorching hot. Standing directly under the stream of water, he allowed it to run from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. L.A. had to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen. In a few hours, he was going to be responsible for getting rid of 150 bricks in two weeks. That’s the most product he had ever moved at once. While it was going to generate the most money he had ever had on one occurrence, he knew that he had to find another way to keep the money coming in.

When it came to his family, L.A. had a heart of gold. He paid all of his mother’s bills and Tarsha’s bills, as well as his own place and cars. He was a firm believer that the women in his life shouldn’t have to stress about bills or lift a finger as long as he had the means to take care of them.

Dymir was putting him under pressure. He was thinking about how he was going to maintain once they stopped working. The ringtone from his cellphone echoed throughout the bathroom. Stepping from under the water, he peeked out of the shower curtain. Looking down at his phone on top of the toilet seat, a single L graced the screen. What the fuck does this bitch want?

L.A. stared at the phone, allowing it to go into voicemail only for it to ring again.

Where the fuck have you been… under some balls, bitch? he answered, speaking in a low tone because of Tarsha’s nosey ass.

Whatever, L.A.! I was just laying low for a few. I need to see you, Layla replied.

Laying low, my ass. You were probably out there plotting on another nigga when you were supposed to be handling something for me. What do you need to see me for? I hope you have some good news for me.

Can we meet right now?

I’m at my people’s house. The minute I step outside, I’m going to call you about where to meet.

L.A. quickly wrapped up his shower after ending the call. He thought back to how good Layla’s head game was and immediately, his nature began to rise. For a brief moment, he was able to take his mind off of