Forbidden Love from a Savage: An Urban Romance

Chapter One

Fackz

When I first opened my club, Flamez, I was out on the floor partying every fucking night. That was three years ago, but now I just come in to do the books and slide out the back door. The crowd was pretty good tonight, and I keep a keen eye on things as I stood on the balcony outside my office.

I was over all the bitches smiling in my face with tons of fucking makeup on and fake everything. These bitches only wanted to be on my damn arm any fucking way. I was that nigga around these parts. I owned this club, two laundromats, and a corner store. That was in addition to my street money.

I was what every chick wanted. The problem was, I didn’t want them. My name is Faxon Mitchell, but I only answer to Fackz. I don’t know why my mom named me that shit anyway. I even looked the shit up to see if it really meant something or if she just threw some letters together. It means long hair, but I rock a fade. It’s also Irish, but I damn sure ain’t Irish. I’m low key, but I’m the nigga to see. I don’t talk much, but when I did everyone who knew me knew to shut the fuck up.

I was the oldest of my mom’s three kids. My brother is right behind me in age. We are two years apart. His name is Fachun, but everybody calls his ass Ficktion. Yeah, we got in a ton of fucking fights behind our names. It was all good because, by the time we got to middle school, everybody knew not to fuck with us.

Ficktion was the one that stayed in the know. He was forever hearing shit about people. I was the exact opposite. I didn’t see the need to know what the fuck everybody else had going on. Then, there’s my baby sister, Novil. Of course, we call her No-No. She was about to graduate from high school. As far as we knew she was a good girl, but I didn’t believe that shit for a minute. We just hadn’t caught her ass doing shit yet.

You know you can actually go on the floor, right? my brother, Ficktion, came in my office yapping.

He was the most talkative out of the three of us. Novil was a girl, but she had my ways and attitude. I felt sorry for the dude she ends up with.

I’m good. How long have you been here? I asked him.

Shit, not long enough. I’m here checking to make sure none of these niggas trying to push up on Van. I’m not having that shit, he said seriously.

I had to laugh at his ass. He was stalking a chick who didn’t even know he was checking for her. He had been crushing on Van since a month after she was hired, but his punk ass was too scared to tell her what was really up.

You’re a clown. Just tell the girl you trying to hit. The worst she can do is tell you no, I said.

He was doing all this extra shit for no damn reason if you ask me. She was just another chick with a pussy. He didn’t even know if her shit was good or not.

Nah, she gonna be my first ex-wife. I’m not trying to just hit that. I know when I do make it known to her, it’s gonna be a fucking wrap. Do you see the shit she has on tonight? She makes me wanna smack the shit out of her for coming out of the house like that. If I slap her now, she not gonna fuck me later, though, he said.

He was right. If she were my woman, she damn sure wouldn’t come in there on that bullshit. I knew she had to dress somewhat sexy because she worked as the bartender. Niggas would buy out the bar just trying to get her to notice them. Vanessa, or Van, as we call her, was a slim thick shorty and brown skinned. She wasn’t an Instagram model, but she held her own.

One thing I could say about her is she’s a good girl. I hadn’t heard anything about her doing wild shit when she wasn’t working. The crazy thing was she didn’t even go out or anything if she wasn’t working. When she got behind the bar, she was the total opposite. She had on one of those dresses tonight that was wide fucking open except for a few thin ass straps going across her mid-section and back. The bottom of the dress stopped just about two fingers wide below her ass.

Huh? You haven’t even said shit to her, but you done already married and divorced her in your head, nigga. I laughed.

Hell yeah, I’m gonna make her a Mitchell. You know I’m a hard nigga to deal with, but once we get married, she can’t marry nobody else after we get divorced. That shit is disrespectful as fuck, he said.

Nigga, y’all gonna be divorced. She can do what she wants. If you not gonna step up and be the man she needs, then you should at least let her find happiness with a nigga that’s gonna do right by her, I told him.

Nope, shit don’t work like that with me. If we get married, that’s it. She can’t marry no fucking body after that. Once I lock it down, there is no unlocking it. Fuck what the judge and the piece of paper say. Nobody is getting up in none of her holes. If she can’t keep fucking me, then she may as well join a convent. If I catch wind of anybody getting it, heads are gonna roll, Ficktion said.

I laughed at him because he was a true fool for that shit. It was the way he said the shit that fucking made it funny. I looked on the monitor, and there was a shorty by the bathrooms looking like she didn’t want to be bothered with the nigga in her face. In the club, I see this type of shit all night. I didn’t know what the fuck the deal was, but I had to go down and check this shit out on my own. I got up and headed out of my office.

Oh shit, I know that face, Ficktion said as he followed me.

I got downstairs, and it seemed like the people in the club parted like the red sea when I came through. I wasn’t walking fast, but I was walking with a mother fucking purpose. When I got to the hallway, he had her hemmed up against the wall. Old girl didn’t look scared, though. She looked more irritated than anything. I almost laughed because he was trying to scare her, and the shit wasn’t working.

I pulled my nine out and cocked it back. Then I placed the steel of the barrel to his head.

I know you know that this is my mother fucking establishment. This isn’t the place to be having the women all uncomfortable and shit. You need to back the fuck up, I said.

I respect ya club and all that good shit, but this bitch gonna get my dick all hard and shit, dancing all up on me. Then, when I tell her let’s bounce because of the shit she started, she wanna talk some dumb shit. I’m not one of these flawed ass niggas, he fussed.

You’re telling me you got her like this because your shit got hard when y’all were dancing? Nigga, hell nah, I said.

I heard Ficktion laughing because the shit was stupid as hell. Man, I should have stayed in my damn office.

That’s why bitches get missing around here. She should have thought about that shit before she—

The next thing I knew, the nigga was on the floor bleeding from his leg. Shorty had a small ass deuce-deuce in her hand pointed at him. Ol’ boy was on the floor leaking, and she just stepped over his ass like it was nothing. Did she just shoot this nigga?

Thanks for the distraction, she said.

Shorty had the nerve to kiss me on the cheek and strut her ass away. She didn’t leave, though; she just went and sat at the bar like nothing happened. I looked at the nigga on the floor then at my brother. He found shit like this amusing.

I got this shit. You go find out who she is, he told me.

I walked over to the bar and sat beside her. She was playing with the small ass red straw in her drink and scrolling through her phone. I was looking at her, but she wasn’t paying my ass no mind.

I need to talk to you in my office, I said.

She looked at me like she wanted to say something, but she downed the drink she had and slammed the glass down as she stood up. After putting her little bag under her arm, she held the other arm out for me to take.

As we walked up to my office arm in arm, I felt comfortable as hell with her on my arm. Of course, everyone in the club was looking and trying to figure out who she was and exactly what she was to me. When we got to my office, I was sure to hold the door open for her to walk in. I, of course, looked at how that ass sat up in that fucking red dress. The way she was strutting, I knew her pussy had to be golden.

If you had a gun on you, why did you let him think he had the upper hand? How did you get in here with that gun in the first place? I asked her.

If she could get in with a gun, then anybody else could. That wasn’t a good look. Somebody was getting fired for not doing the fucking job they were hired to do. We hadn’t had any bullshit going on, and I was trying to keep it that way.

I licked the fat, ugly nigga’s earlobe who works your door. He was so worried about the chance of him getting some pussy that he never checked me. So, to answer your question, a little bit of flirting, that’s how I got in. As for the fuckboy back there, I let him think he had the upper hand because that’s the type of nigga he is. You know the type who wants everybody to think they’re that nigga, but behind closed doors, they like the feeling of two fingers in their asshole up to the knuckle, she said.

I had to laugh because she was straight saying the nigga was down low. I sent a text to Ficktion to let him know to fire fat ass Alex at the front door.

The chick was now standing in front of me looking like she had something else to do.

You got somewhere to be? I asked.

I liked her style; she was confident in her shit. Even with her sneaking the gun in, she wasn’t backpedaling on her reasons why or how she did it.

No, I just don’t wanna be in here with you. I would hate to have to use my gun again tonight on one of your women, she said with an attitude.

I don’t have a woman, so calm your trigger-happy ass down. What’s wrong with me? I’m not a crab ass, perverted ass nigga. I came to help your ass out, I told her.

No, you came to so-called save the day because you didn’t want to run and tell the owner that a chick shot up the club. I wasn’t gonna shoot up the club, just his small dick, big stomach ass. Is there anything else you need to say to me, or can I go back downstairs to chill at the bar until my cousin gets off? she asked.

Who’s your cousin?

Van.

"Nah, we good.