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I love family time. There’s nothing like spending quality time with the kids. A man won’t have many chances to enjoy these moments so you must enjoy them while you can.
My job made it kind of hard to enjoy my family, though. Working for the music industry keeps me on the road a lot. Even though we are a small company working in a small town, we worked as hard as anybody else. Our job was to blow up our local artists and make them into the big stars, or close to big as possible. We have had a few success stories.
I could tell that my job was putting a strain on my wife, Sasha. She was always worried that I was out messing with all of the girls, especially when I was on the road. But I tried to tell her that I’m not doing that. The other guys might be but I’m not.
The last few weeks my wife has been acting strange. No more I love yous. We didn’t make love and when the kids go to sleep then that’s it; she’s out cold. We didn’t even kiss anymore. I thought at first it was because she was tired from work. After all, I often came home late and that meant she was left at home alone with our three kids. But then she started doing other things.
She started leaving the kids at the sitter or with her mother more so she can go out with her girls. I found it strange that when I went out of town, she somehow found a way to go out to the club. Word around town was she was hanging out at the strip clubs; it wouldn’t surprised me because all of her girls were either single or were cheating on their men.
But I still tried to tell myself that I had nothing to worry nothing to worry about, that my wife wouldn’t jeopardize our five years of marriage that way. But something in my mind was telling me to keep my guard up.
I had to go out of town one weekend. I had to take care of some business up in Atlanta. The morning that I left, my wife didn’t even want to talk to me. I caught her in the kitchen before I left. I tried to get a kiss but she turned away from me.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked. I was very concerned.
She said, with her back turned to me, “Nothing.”
“Are you mad at me or something?”
“Look,” she said, with an angry voice that had shocked me. “Why don’t you just leave me alone? Go and do what you gotta do. Get the fuck out of my face and out of this house.”
I put my briefcase down and walked over to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She turned around and looked at me. “You wanna know my fucking problem? You! Going around thinking that you all fucking big and shit. Can’t even work a real fucking job, working with some little ass record company that ain’t about shit, ain’t shit, and ain’t gonna be about shit. Take your sorry ass on, nigga!”
I couldn’t believe this. A few months ago, she was backing me up on this. Now she is coming at me like I’m some no good fool. I didn’t have time for this.
“Look, honey. I’m going to go to work. I’m gonna come back before I take off tonight and we can talk.”
“Don’t even bring your ass back,” she said as she walked out of the kitchen.
The whole weekend I was gone, she was on my mind. I had a million questions to why she was acting this way and every time I came up with a possible answer, it brought up a million more questions. To make it worse, she wasn’t at home the whole weekend. I called the sitter and found out that she had dropped the kids off with her mother. I called her mother to see if the kids were fine.
“Yeah, they are okay,” she said. “But what’s going on with y’all?”
“Ma’am,” I said with a sigh, “I couldn’t even tell you. I’m trying to figure that out myself.”
“She never been this way,” she said. “And when I ask her what’s going on, she snaps at me.”
That was a big shock because my wife normally told her mom everything.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Then she comes around here, dressed up like she ain’t got no sense. It’s like she think she is single or something.”
“Oh, really?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “And those girls she hang out with…they all trashy. They ain’t no good. I try to tell her but she just cusses me out and go on by her business. Now, I could just not watch these kids but I won’t do my grandbabies like that. I know you’re out there working, trying to take care of your family.”
I was trying to take it all in, but I just couldn’t believe it. My wife would never disrespect her mama. And I was starting to realize that her friends were doing more than I had thought. She was hanging with the wrong crowd.
I came in late Sunday. No wife. No kids. Called my wife’s cell and she wouldn’t pick up. I had offered to pick up the kids but my mother-in-law insisted she would keep them till the morning since it was late and they were already asleep.
I called her friends but none of them answered. Then my wife texted me.
What do you want?
I texted back. Where the fuck are you?
None of your muthafucking business, she replied back.
It is my business, I text back. But no reply.
It was one in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. I lay in the bed, got up, walked outside, and repeated it all over again. This was really getting out of hand. Then something told me to look on her side of the bed.
In the bed side drawer I found an invite to a party at the Holiday Inn. It was a weekend long party and it was hosted by one of her home girls’ flings. I was tired as hell but I had to get to the bottom of this.
I got in the car and sped my way over to the hotel. I must have ran about two or three red lights. I wanted to know what was going on and I feared the worst. I went into the hotel lobby and went past the receptionist as though she didn’t exist.
Anger. Fear. Anticipation. Anxiety. All of that was running through my head as I took the elevator to the sixth floor. When I stepped off, there were loud music bumping up and down the hallway. There couldn’t have been anyone else on this floor because it was ridiculous and disrespectful how much of a party scene it was. I had brought my gun, just in case some little nigga wanted to start some shit with me.
I had banged on the door of Room 615. As soon as the door had opened, I was hit with the stench of weed and alcohol.
“Who the fuck are you,” said the guy who answered.
“I’m looking for my wife,” I said.
He laughed. He was obviously high. “Dawg, if your wife is here, then you got a problem.”
That was when I saw one of her girls, Miranda. She had this “oh, shit” look to her face.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked. She was intoxicated.
“Looking for my fucking wife. Now where is Sasha?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t seen her in the last thirty minutes.”
I pushed the little dude out of my way and walked straight into the room. The other guys stood up as though they had wanted to fight.
“Look, Miranda,” I said when I walked up to her. “I’m not fucking playing. Where is Sasha?”
One of the guys then said, “Look, nigga. Yo’ wife ain’t up in here. Now get the fuck up out of here before we throw yo’ ass out that window.”
I pulled out my gun, a Desert Eagle. Everybody stood back.
“You’re going to do what?” I asked.
“Stop,” said another girl. It was Tasha, the girl was messing with the guy who hosted the party.
“What’s up, Tasha? You know something?”
“Yeah,” she said. “She left about thirty minutes ago but I know where she went. Here’s the room key.
Room 635. That’s where she has been staying all weekend. That’s all I’m going to say.”
I couldn’t say anything else. I just had to run out of the room. I didn’t even pay attention to anything else. I couldn’t even see anything else. I was on a mission, and that mission was Room 635.
I made it to the room. I was really hoping that I would have found her asleep. But I put my ear to the door and I heard muffled conversation. Fearing the worst, I slipped the key and the door and turned the knob.
What I saw made me sick to my stomach. There was my wife…with two niggas. One was hitting it from the back and she was sucking off the other one.
“Yeah,” said the guy hitting from the back. “She like this shit.”
The guy she was sucking then said, “Yes, she do. Don’t you?”
She hummed in agreement as he forced her head down further. She wanted to scream but she could only hum with the dick in her mouth. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I wanted to kill them all but I just couldn’t move. Just as I was about to say something, the guy hitting from the back stopped and she started sucking on both till they busted in her face and mouth.
“You muthafucking bitch,” I said.
One might wonder how could I just stand there and watch and watch my wife get a train ran on her. But I couldn’t move. I was in shock and it was like my mind had to confirm what my eyes were seeing. She looked at me, with shock.
“Baby,” she said.
“Don’t fucking baby me! This is what you been doing the whole fucking time? Huh? Fucking around with different niggas behind my back, while I’m out working and shit? Then you accuse me of doing shit? You trifling! Nasty bitch!”
“Who is this, nigga?” asked the guy who was hitting it from the back.
“Don’t worry about who the fuck I am,” I said.
“Nigga, I’ll kill you,” said home boy she was originally sucking off. “You can’t be mad because your girl like trains. You should’ve been taking care of her.”
“Who is this nigga?” the first guy asked again. “Tell me before we fuck him up.”
“My husband,” she said, with her head down.
“And your worst fucking nightmare,” I said.
I pulled out my Desert Eagle and pointed it straight for my wife.
My job made it kind of hard to enjoy my family, though. Working for the music industry keeps me on the road a lot. Even though we are a small company working in a small town, we worked as hard as anybody else. Our job was to blow up our local artists and make them into the big stars, or close to big as possible. We have had a few success stories.
I could tell that my job was putting a strain on my wife, Sasha. She was always worried that I was out messing with all of the girls, especially when I was on the road. But I tried to tell her that I’m not doing that. The other guys might be but I’m not.
The last few weeks my wife has been acting strange. No more I love yous. We didn’t make love and when the kids go to sleep then that’s it; she’s out cold. We didn’t even kiss anymore. I thought at first it was because she was tired from work. After all, I often came home late and that meant she was left at home alone with our three kids. But then she started doing other things.
She started leaving the kids at the sitter or with her mother more so she can go out with her girls. I found it strange that when I went out of town, she somehow found a way to go out to the club. Word around town was she was hanging out at the strip clubs; it wouldn’t surprised me because all of her girls were either single or were cheating on their men.
But I still tried to tell myself that I had nothing to worry nothing to worry about, that my wife wouldn’t jeopardize our five years of marriage that way. But something in my mind was telling me to keep my guard up.
I had to go out of town one weekend. I had to take care of some business up in Atlanta. The morning that I left, my wife didn’t even want to talk to me. I caught her in the kitchen before I left. I tried to get a kiss but she turned away from me.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked. I was very concerned.
She said, with her back turned to me, “Nothing.”
“Are you mad at me or something?”
“Look,” she said, with an angry voice that had shocked me. “Why don’t you just leave me alone? Go and do what you gotta do. Get the fuck out of my face and out of this house.”
I put my briefcase down and walked over to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She turned around and looked at me. “You wanna know my fucking problem? You! Going around thinking that you all fucking big and shit. Can’t even work a real fucking job, working with some little ass record company that ain’t about shit, ain’t shit, and ain’t gonna be about shit. Take your sorry ass on, nigga!”
I couldn’t believe this. A few months ago, she was backing me up on this. Now she is coming at me like I’m some no good fool. I didn’t have time for this.
“Look, honey. I’m going to go to work. I’m gonna come back before I take off tonight and we can talk.”
“Don’t even bring your ass back,” she said as she walked out of the kitchen.
The whole weekend I was gone, she was on my mind. I had a million questions to why she was acting this way and every time I came up with a possible answer, it brought up a million more questions. To make it worse, she wasn’t at home the whole weekend. I called the sitter and found out that she had dropped the kids off with her mother. I called her mother to see if the kids were fine.
“Yeah, they are okay,” she said. “But what’s going on with y’all?”
“Ma’am,” I said with a sigh, “I couldn’t even tell you. I’m trying to figure that out myself.”
“She never been this way,” she said. “And when I ask her what’s going on, she snaps at me.”
That was a big shock because my wife normally told her mom everything.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Then she comes around here, dressed up like she ain’t got no sense. It’s like she think she is single or something.”
“Oh, really?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “And those girls she hang out with…they all trashy. They ain’t no good. I try to tell her but she just cusses me out and go on by her business. Now, I could just not watch these kids but I won’t do my grandbabies like that. I know you’re out there working, trying to take care of your family.”
I was trying to take it all in, but I just couldn’t believe it. My wife would never disrespect her mama. And I was starting to realize that her friends were doing more than I had thought. She was hanging with the wrong crowd.
I came in late Sunday. No wife. No kids. Called my wife’s cell and she wouldn’t pick up. I had offered to pick up the kids but my mother-in-law insisted she would keep them till the morning since it was late and they were already asleep.
I called her friends but none of them answered. Then my wife texted me.
What do you want?
I texted back. Where the fuck are you?
None of your muthafucking business, she replied back.
It is my business, I text back. But no reply.
It was one in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. I lay in the bed, got up, walked outside, and repeated it all over again. This was really getting out of hand. Then something told me to look on her side of the bed.
In the bed side drawer I found an invite to a party at the Holiday Inn. It was a weekend long party and it was hosted by one of her home girls’ flings. I was tired as hell but I had to get to the bottom of this.
I got in the car and sped my way over to the hotel. I must have ran about two or three red lights. I wanted to know what was going on and I feared the worst. I went into the hotel lobby and went past the receptionist as though she didn’t exist.
Anger. Fear. Anticipation. Anxiety. All of that was running through my head as I took the elevator to the sixth floor. When I stepped off, there were loud music bumping up and down the hallway. There couldn’t have been anyone else on this floor because it was ridiculous and disrespectful how much of a party scene it was. I had brought my gun, just in case some little nigga wanted to start some shit with me.
I had banged on the door of Room 615. As soon as the door had opened, I was hit with the stench of weed and alcohol.
“Who the fuck are you,” said the guy who answered.
“I’m looking for my wife,” I said.
He laughed. He was obviously high. “Dawg, if your wife is here, then you got a problem.”
That was when I saw one of her girls, Miranda. She had this “oh, shit” look to her face.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked. She was intoxicated.
“Looking for my fucking wife. Now where is Sasha?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t seen her in the last thirty minutes.”
I pushed the little dude out of my way and walked straight into the room. The other guys stood up as though they had wanted to fight.
“Look, Miranda,” I said when I walked up to her. “I’m not fucking playing. Where is Sasha?”
One of the guys then said, “Look, nigga. Yo’ wife ain’t up in here. Now get the fuck up out of here before we throw yo’ ass out that window.”
I pulled out my gun, a Desert Eagle. Everybody stood back.
“You’re going to do what?” I asked.
“Stop,” said another girl. It was Tasha, the girl was messing with the guy who hosted the party.
“What’s up, Tasha? You know something?”
“Yeah,” she said. “She left about thirty minutes ago but I know where she went. Here’s the room key.
Room 635. That’s where she has been staying all weekend. That’s all I’m going to say.”
I couldn’t say anything else. I just had to run out of the room. I didn’t even pay attention to anything else. I couldn’t even see anything else. I was on a mission, and that mission was Room 635.
I made it to the room. I was really hoping that I would have found her asleep. But I put my ear to the door and I heard muffled conversation. Fearing the worst, I slipped the key and the door and turned the knob.
What I saw made me sick to my stomach. There was my wife…with two niggas. One was hitting it from the back and she was sucking off the other one.
“Yeah,” said the guy hitting from the back. “She like this shit.”
The guy she was sucking then said, “Yes, she do. Don’t you?”
She hummed in agreement as he forced her head down further. She wanted to scream but she could only hum with the dick in her mouth. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I wanted to kill them all but I just couldn’t move. Just as I was about to say something, the guy hitting from the back stopped and she started sucking on both till they busted in her face and mouth.
“You muthafucking bitch,” I said.
One might wonder how could I just stand there and watch and watch my wife get a train ran on her. But I couldn’t move. I was in shock and it was like my mind had to confirm what my eyes were seeing. She looked at me, with shock.
“Baby,” she said.
“Don’t fucking baby me! This is what you been doing the whole fucking time? Huh? Fucking around with different niggas behind my back, while I’m out working and shit? Then you accuse me of doing shit? You trifling! Nasty bitch!”
“Who is this, nigga?” asked the guy who was hitting it from the back.
“Don’t worry about who the fuck I am,” I said.
“Nigga, I’ll kill you,” said home boy she was originally sucking off. “You can’t be mad because your girl like trains. You should’ve been taking care of her.”
“Who is this nigga?” the first guy asked again. “Tell me before we fuck him up.”
“My husband,” she said, with her head down.
“And your worst fucking nightmare,” I said.
I pulled out my Desert Eagle and pointed it straight for my wife.
