The Viper and his Majesty by Tiana Laveen

CHAPTER TEN

A Snake in One’s Bosom

Majesty and Destiny continued to talk for a couple of minutes, when she promised to text her friend at the start and end of the date. She then switched on her music and listened to Stwo’s, ‘Neither Do I’, featuring Jeremih as she showered in the large ivory and silver bathroom, one of her favorite rooms in her entire home. She had it lit with candles, and a beautiful silver and ivory pineapple shaped diffuser that perfumed the air with lavender and peppermint essential oils. This was her tiny retreat, her sanctuary.

She stood under the hot stream of water, washing away the stress of the day. Her body shivered as she set aside the pain and frustrations of life, thoughts of which kept coming to the forefront of her mind, trying to take over.

The strawberry scented lather from her Victoria’s Secret bath gel, another gift from her mother, helped to soothe her. When she was finished, she stepped out of the shower enclosure, dried off with a soft, baby pink towel, leaving a little moisture along her legs and arms to mix in with her scented almond body oil and gardenia lotion.

She sat at the bedroom vanity in her robe and fingered through her tresses, twisting the strands and pinning them up with an Oriental style black and red clip. Then, she proceeded to moisturize her face and apply a makeup primer. She’d wear basic makeup for work, but for dates, she spent a bit more time on her desired look, lashes and all. It had been quite some time since she’d been out with a man. She had her share of male friends and associates and would sometimes meet them for lunch on her breaks or for drinks when the time allowed, but this was an entirely different ball game. She searched inside her drawer for the eyeshadow palette she wanted, and though a bit rusty at applying a full glam look, it was like riding a bike – it all came tumbling back.

Twenty or so minutes later, she was done, and applied a finishing spray to set in her makeup. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning her head slowly from left to right. The highlight of her cheeks, the rich plum of her blush against her brown skin seemed perfect, and the matte wine-colored lipstick she’d opted for, versus her go-to clear or pale pink glosses, pulled off the look she wished to achieve. She took a deep breath and managed a smile, almost not recognizing herself like this. Giving herself a wink, she rose to her feet, put on her underwear, and slipped on the black off shoulder jumpsuit she’d purchased two years prior from TJ Maxx but had never worn. Next came the faux gold necklace, small gold hoops, and the release of her hair from the clip. She sat back down at her vanity, sprayed a conditioner and water mixture to make her natural curls and waves pop, then scrunched it with hair mousse before tussling it over one shoulder. For a final touch, she reached for the perfume her mother had bought her for her birthday three years prior and which she used for special occasions: Lancôme la nuit trésor à la folie. After spritzing it behind her ears, along her wrists, neck, clothing and hair, she set the elegant burgundy glass bottle down, and checked her image a final time.

Her stomach flipped, feeling like it teemed with butterflies high on sugar cookies sprinkled with cocaine. She tried to drum up some shame for being attracted to yet another ‘wrong’ man, and yet, she felt none. Such an emotion didn’t resonate with her soul at the moment.

She rose and slid on a pair of elegant heels. Anklet… I should put on a gold anklet, too. She opened drawer after drawer of a tall black dresser full of scattered accessories – knock-off fake designer sunglasses, amazing costume jewelry rings, beautifully printed scarves, bracelets, and the like, desperately trying to find her gold and diamond anklet that she hadn’t worn in years.

DING DONG! DING… DONG…

The sound of the doorbell startled her, and in a panic, she looked at the clock.

“Oh shit, it’s nine. Like he said, he’s here right on time.”

She grabbed her purse and made a mad dash out of her bedroom, then down the hall, until she forced herself to slow the hell down. Why am I running? Make that mothafucka wait. Act casual, like you almost forgot he was coming… She took slow, steady steps to the front door. As she glimpsed through the peephole, those damn butterflies rose high to the tallest ceilings now, doing somersaults and snorting cocaine and crushed sugar dust like pros. On the other side of the door stood a gorgeous man dressed in a button-down black shirt and matching pants. She got a peek of his black chest hair above the collar, where a subtle gold chain hung around his neck. His jet-black hair was combed away from his face, allowing her to see the full gorgeousness of his bone structure. His fingers sparkled with gold and diamonds. She opened the door and her lungs filled with the intoxicating scent of his cologne. They smiled at each other.

“I told you I’d be on time.”

“I had no idea how to dress, so I tried to not go overboard, while dressing up a little.” She stepped out of her home onto the porch and locked the door.

“You’re dressed perfectly. You look beautiful, too.”

She shot him a glance before slipping her keys into her purse, then tugging onto the front door handle for good measure. The lock tended to stick.

“Well, thank you. You look nice, too.” Her cheeks flushed with heat. “Where are we going? I want to know before I get into your car and you drive me off to Lord knows where.”

He raised a brow.

“I wanted to surprise you, but since you want to know, I’m takin’ you to dinner, then dancing.”

Pulling out her cellphone, she sent Destiny a text with that information, and also to let her know she was leaving her home. Once she sat in his Bugatti and practically OD’d on the scent of leather, she snuck a quick glance at him out the corner of her eye as he put the key into the ignition, which looked more like a USB stick. A bunch of lights lit up in shades of electric light blue as he pulled out of her driveway and worked the shift. I ain’t never been in no car like this! It’s like some spaceship! Damn, this car is bad! I wish Destiny and Joy could see this.

“How many cylinders are in this car?” she asked as she put on her seatbelt.

“Sweet sixteen.”

“Sixteen cylinders? Wow!”

Viper had on a serious expression as he drove, but in truth he always looked that way. The ride was so smooth, it felt like they were damn near floating. He turned on the radio and Mokenstef’s, ‘He’s Mine’ began to play on the R&B oldies station.

“You listen to R&B?”

He nodded, then tossed her a look as if to say, ‘Of course. What a silly question.’

“You don’t look like the R&B type.” She started to snap her fingers to the tune that had hit the airwaves when she was a young girl. She’d had the nerve to sing the lyrics back then, too, as if she knew anything about the perils of toxic love and the tortured minds of men.

“What? You thought I’d be playing ‘La Bamba’ or some shit like that?” He grinned. Meanwhile, they approached the expressway.

“I don’t know about all that. It just surprises me is all.” They enjoyed the ride in silence then, and she was feeling the music and the vibe. Viper was silent, ignoring all the people checking out his car as he drove past. Maybe he was used to it. Broke people don’t have cars like this… houses like his… the clothing he’s wearing and the jewelry he flashes. She wasn’t her mother, always focusing on her looks in her relentless chase after a man’s dollar, but curiosity ate at her. He didn’t appear short on anything.

Money or not, there would be no second date unless he passed her battery of tests and answered her questions to her satisfaction. She damn sure wasn’t fucking him tonight, risking giving herself and developing feelings for a guy who only wished to toy with her emotions and sell her a bunch of rainbow-colored dreams to hide the actual nightmares covered in shit.

“So, training dogs brings in good money?” she asked flat out.

“Ask me what you really wanna ask me…” he said, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. ‘Anniversary,’ by Tony Toni Tone was playing.

“What do you think I really want to ask you?” She was too entertained for her own good.

“You want to know if I’m doing something crazy to afford my shit.” He stroked his beard as he kept his eye on the road.

“I do. I was in your house. Great furniture and set up, and I only saw a small portion of it. I know you may think I’m overstepping, but to me, in this day and age, to not ask the important questions from the jump would be stupid… and stupid I am not. Your house obviously is really nice, and I can’t see how dog training can support that.” Flashes of the bitch in the grocery store flooded her mind. Was she doing the same thing to Viper? I sure as hell am. That heffa isn’t dating me. This mothafucka wants to fuck me. Little does he know, I’ve been in such a drought that his damn voice alone makes me sprinkle my panties and if I were to give in to temptation, a piece of overcooked chicken and a dried-up string bean was all that would be needed to part these damn thighs like the Red Sea. Thankfully, I have self-discipline. But still, I deserve to know.

“Do you even know what dog training entails and how much potential money can be made, Majesty?”

She swallowed. She hadn’t even thought that far. It didn’t matter. It just didn’t seem realistic. Who the hell gets rich training a mutt to fetch a newspaper?!

“Well, you’re right. Most dog trainers don’t make a lot of money.”

She inwardly sighed with relief, yet also bristled with concern.

“I’m not most dog trainers though, number one, so those numbers don’t apply to me, and yeah, I made a lot of money when I was in the life, too.” He hooked his fingers in the universal gesture for quotes.

“Now that you’re not in the life, as you call it, what made you decide to change it up, money-wise?”

“When I was in prison this last stint, I got myself a financial advisor, and my money grew. I’ve always been industrious about finding new ways to bring in cash. Also, I wanted to make sure that in case anything happened to me, I was leaving something behind for my family. My father has his own shop, as you know, but he works hard, and his earnings aren’t as high as they should be. My mother is okay, but she could use more. Soon after I got out, I wanted a house, a new car, and I wanted to start my own business with the dogs. It was time to do something different. Be resourceful. Use my talents. I had seed money to do that, though. Seed money I earned.”

“Earned how?”

He smirked. “Don’t play with me, Majesty.”

“I’m not!” She feigned ignorance, irritated that he didn’t fall for her trick to make him disclose his dirty dealings.

“I got the money in ways I’m not going to talk about. But I don’t do those things anymore, and that’s the only part you need to know.”

“You expect me to believe that, Viper? Seems the money was real good to you, and that can be addictive.”

“Since you want to count my money, want me to expose my pockets, let’s see how the—”

“Okay, hold up. I never said—”

“You mean gold up?” He sneered, his implication clear.

“I’m not a gold digger.”

“Why? What’s wrong with being a gold digger?” He tossed her a glance, his eyes dark and foreboding.

“I’m just not like that. I don’t go for men because of what they drive, or where they live, or their job.”

“You should. Your standards are too low, then.”

“So you’re tellin’ me men want a gold digger?”

He shrugged. “You tell me. Kanye West made a whole fuckin’ song dissin’ them, then married one.” She laughed at that, but he was right. “Nothing wrong with a woman wanting a man with money. You honestly think most men would approach you if they found you unattractive? That’s the male version of gold digging. Men find women who make us look good. Make us feel good. Women we think other men want.”

“Isn’t that a bit shallow?”

“Nah, it’s Mother Nature. It’s deeper than you think. Most men want a woman who we feel is going to bring us the best babies. So, that means she needs to look a certain way. What each of us finds attractive is different, but that’s one of the reasons men want what we consider the prettiest chick in the bunch. Even if we’re not feelin’ a certain look of a lady, we pretty much know when she is aesthetically pleasing, I guess you could say. We want someone our brothers would want to fuck. Someone we’ll fuck them up over if they try to touch her though. Once all that newness wears off, and we stop salivating over her, only then will we dig deeper. It’s at that point that we want to find out if she’s nurturing, smart, resourceful, supportive, all the things that make a good wife, mother, and homemaker.”

“Uh, Dominic Viper, this isn’t 1956, sweetheart!” She guffawed. “I know what you mean though.”

“I know you do. It doesn’t have to be 1956 when this shit is hard programmed into us. Doesn’t matter what year it is. We have the same basic desires. Basic human cravings don’t know what day, month, year or century we’re in.” He switched lanes in the fast-moving traffic with the greatest of ease. “You do realize that most men get nice cars, clothes, all that shit not just for other men to envy, or for ourselves. We do it to attract a woman. It’s like a mating call.”

She burst out laughing. “Viper, you need to stop.”

He laughed right back. “Nah, I’m serious, Beautiful.” Her cheeks flushed from his compliment. “See, we don’t think of this shit consciously. It’s not like we’re out here actively looking for women with childbearing hips. This is old shit, from our ancestors. It doesn’t care about our race, either. It’s in our DNA. Being human is all that is required.”

“So, what happens after that?”

“After what?”

“After you get the girl with the childbearing hips and nurturing personality straight out of ‘Father Knows Best,’ only she is wearing a bodycon dress with a frilly apron at the dinner parties, a plain Jane business suit in the light of day with her hair in a librarian bun, and nothin’ but a G-string at night before you ravish her and she’s your personal fun-time freak?”

“Then, a real man continues to do all the same shit he did to attract that woman. He has to keep her panties wet, her eyes dry, and her heart in love.” Her stomach clenched at his words. “We don’t want to invest all of that time, money, and attention into someone we don’t plan to keep.”

“Oh, bullshit, Viper.” She sucked her teeth. “Do you know how many men with fancy cars have tried to talk to me and my friends, all with no intentions but to hit it and quit it?”

“We have practice years, but eventually, we start getting serious. Playtime is over.”

“You mean ho holidays and gigolo durations. Practice years my ass.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled. Who did he think he was trying to fool? “You ain’t a damn doctor… This ain’t your practice, and it’s always playtime for a player. Y’all out here trollin’ for pussy and forget our name after you cum.”

“Are you bitter?”

“Never. Just better.”

“I had no idea you were sick,” he jabbed.

“Sick of the bullshit. I took a prescription for it. It said, Call Viper out on his crap twice a day after every meal and spiel, then see a real doctor, not the doctor of deception, in the gotdamn morning.”

He burst out laughing. Gorgeous. His teeth were so white and pretty, and when he laughed, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“You’re funny. Hilarious, even.”

“I know.” She quipped as she crossed her legs and readjusted her position in her seat. “I’m glad you know how to hold a conversation. I’m also glad you have a sense of humor, too.”

Reaching toward his back seat while keeping his other hand steady on the steering wheel, he grabbed a bouquet of pink roses and handed them to her. She felt warm all over as she brought them close, then took a hearty sniff.

“These are so pretty. Thank you, Viper.”

“De nada, querida.”

What does, ‘querida,’ mean? I know ‘de nada,’ means you’re welcome. Never mind… I’ll just assume it was a compliment.

“I love pink. I don’t wear it often though, I don’t think it looks good on me, but I’m really drawn to this color, and these roses are my favorite shade of it.” He nodded in understanding, almost as though somewhere inside of him, he’d known this would be her preference. Moments later, they arrived at a restaurant, Abe and Louie’s on Glade’s Road.

She’d never been there before and wasted no time in alerting her friend, sending a text to let her know the location. Viper turned down valet parking, definitely not liking the idea of some random guy—who was ogling the car—getting his paws on his ride, so he found his own parking space. He helped her out of the car, gently taking the roses from her hand and placing them back on the back seat. Then, he took her hand.

Her insides churned like butter at the touch. Strong. Demanding. Protective. When they entered the establishment, awe struck her and her heart beat a wild melody. The place was gorgeous – fine dining, bright lights, and elegantly dressed men and women. Feeling a little underdressed, she hugged herself.

“Relax. It’s a steakhouse, not the Ritz. You look beautiful,” he whispered as they were led to their reserved table.

The waiter pulled out her chair and she took her seat, then they listened to him rattling the specials of the day, including a vast selection of wines.

I haven’t been out like this in so long. I need this, too. I really need just a bit of time to remember who I am, what I enjoy, let off some steam. And it doesn’t hurt that it’s with Viper. I barely know the man, but he’s proven to be able to hold his own so far. Gotta give credit where credit is due.

“…That sounds good. I’d like the shrimp and scallop cavatappi,” she said. The waiter asked what she wished to have on her salad and promised to bring out a basket of hot, fresh bread.

“I want the bone-in New York strip.”

“Twenty-ounce, sir?”

“Yeah… and for the sides, let me get…” his eyes narrowed on the menu as he stroked his chin with those long, thick, tattooed fingers of his, “lobster mac and cheese. What do you want, Majesty? What side?” He waved his finger in her direction.

“Oh, that’s fine. Whatever you want.”

“No, baby.” He smirked. “We get to choose two. They’re big. We share ’em.”

“Oh, uh, didn’t they have asparagus? I’ll get that.” She felt a wave of embarrassment come over her for she felt clueless about how this shit exactly worked. She’d never been to a place like this, and though at various times in her life she could’ve probably splurged and done so without dire financial consequence, it just never really crossed her mind.

“Great choices.” The waiter promised to return with their wine and refresh their waters momentarily.

Viper sat back in his chair, stroking his glass of water… a lascivious, sexy look on his face.

“What?” She clasped her hands, then leaned forward.

“What I like about you is how down to earth you are.”

“How do you know I’m down to earth?” She took a sip of water. “I could be petty, fake, and materialistic. People play roles all the time to get what they want. Just ask my mother.” She immediately regretted the words as soon as they left her damn mouth. Something about the man made her feel extremely comfortable. Too comfortable. Much to her surprise, and relief, he didn’t press her about it.

“I know when people want to just use me, versus when they have a genuine interest in me as a man. I wouldn’t be alive right now if I didn’t.”

She nodded. How could she disagree?

A glass of white wine was set before her, and a red glass for him. They engaged in a bit of playful flirting and small talk, during which she realized how much she liked… no loved, the way Viper’s body moved. Each movement of his limbs was slick, seamless, his entire vibe oiled down to perfection. It wasn’t forced, but simply the way he was. Despite all his tattoos and intimidating physical presence, he was able to set her and their wait staff at ease. The man could blend in with the best of them. He spoke to the waiter with respect, even joked with the guy, relaxing him. She hadn’t missed how the man had kept glaring at Viper’s crucifix tattoo on his forehead when they’d first walked in, but then Viper broke the ice so perfectly, pouring cold water on those concerns.

“Earlier, you mentioned when you were ‘in the life.’ Do you consider yourself no longer a Latin King?”

Viper pushed his salad around with his fork, then ate a mouthful.

“Once a Latin King, always a Latin King.”

She took a taste of her wine. It was so damn good.

“Are you concerned about being back under the influence, I guess you could say?”

He seemed thoughtful, as if trying to find the best way to answer her query.

“I’m not easily influenced. I do the influencing.”

She wasn’t certain if he was being cocky or he believed his words. She imagined it was a combination of the two.

“My ex wasn’t in a gang, but a lot of his friends were. He sold drugs.” She kept her voice low. The bite of salad she just had was difficult going down. Perhaps she’d bitten off more than she could chew. Viper kept his face planted in his food. Then, he sat back in his seat, sighed, and rested his fork on the napkin. He stared at her.

“That’s Troy’s father, I assume. He’s dead, right?”

A chill came over her. How the hell does he know that? Am I wearing a sign?!

“Yes. Kevin.” She quickly looked away, poking at her salad. This was not the light-hearted dinner conversation she’d hoped for. “Why did you assume he was dead?”

“I can tell you’re concerned about certain people and influences around your child. Nothing I said convinced you at first to spend some time with me. You made it clear as to why. I figured somethin’ fucked up had to have happened to you in the past… a guy like me that you cared about, or at least one you think is like me, and it didn’t end well. Bigger than a breakup. Something there was no coming back from. Death is the only thing we can’t come back from.” He shrugged, and casually began to eat his salad once again. Soon, their entrees emerged, and the smell and look of the food made her practically drool.

The mood lightened after that. She lit up like a Macy’s parade Christmas tree from the funny tales he shared involving him and some of his friends. The stories were ordinary ones, with kids having fun and causing mischief. She wasn’t fooled though. The man hung with murderers, thieves, and con artists. He called them his brothers. Mis hermanos. Did birds of a feather flock together? Those motherfuckers flapped their tattered wings until they were bloody…

“What made you join the Latin Kings?” She reached for a roll and bit into it.

“For many of the same reasons you’ve probably heard… and I wanted a family.”

“But you had one. Not the best, from the little you’ve told me, but it seems like you know your mother loves you, and your parents tried to take care of you and your brother even though they were poor.”

“When you think of a great family member, like, the best you can imagine ever having in your entire life, what do you think of?” he asked as he reached for his glass of wine.

“What do you mean?”

“What attributes would they have?”

“They’d be trustworthy. Loyal. A good listener. Fun. They’d have my back, give good advice and care about me… love me unconditionally.”

“Well, I had the love, but nothing else.”

She drank some more wine, her throat feeling a bit dry.

“You can have parents who love you, Majesty, but don’t know how to show it.” Boy did she understand that. “I couldn’t talk to my parents about much. Discussing things that bothered us really wasn’t acceptable.”

“You said you were close with Diego, your brother. Didn’t he pick up some of the slack of what you were missing?”

Did he follow in his brother’s footsteps?

“Some. Not all. What could he do? He was a child, too. I looked up to my big brother and wanted to be like him, but I believe I would’ve become King Viper anyway.” Once again, he seemed to know the true intention of her questions. “I wanted exactly what you said you would want from a family. Loyalty. A good listener. Trustworthiness. I wanted someone to have my back, not just pay the bills to the best of their ability and put food on the table. I love my mother, my father, and my stepfather, but sometimes, that love isn’t enough. I was living around a lot of violence and chaos, inside the house and out. I was looking for a constant. Something that didn’t change.”

“You were looking for stability. That’s something all children need.” …or they feel lost. And then, the wrong things or people can find them…

“Yeah. I couldn’t articulate it the way I can now, but we don’t need words all the time to say how we feel. The way we live our lives shows it.”

She jabbed her fork into a shrimp, brought it to her mouth, and about fell in love when the buttery, succulent food hit her palate. As she chewed on her food, she also chewed on his words. It all tasted familiar.

“When you look back on your life as a gang member, do you regret it?” she cocked her head to the side, genuinely interested.

He smiled. “I regret nothing.”

They studied each other for a long ass time after those words left his mouth. After they finished their dinner, he asked her if she wanted dessert.

“I better not!” She giggled, waving her hand. “I had to practically slather myself with Crisco to get into this jumpsuit. I’m surprised the chef didn’t come out and ask if he could dab his spatula on my leg to fry up some grub.” Viper burst out laughing, and it was contagious. “Hell, it’s true. I’ve been stress eatin’ lately. Just keeping it 100. I’m ashamed, but it’s the truth.” She was pretty shocked at her own frankness.

“You’re beautiful… Crisco and all. All right, let me pay the check, then we can be on our way to the Funky Biscuit.”

“The Funky Biscuit?” She chuckled. “What a silly name.”

“Yeah, it’s a club not too far from here. Great drinks and music.”

“All right. I’m down. Thank you for dinner. It was so nice. The food was good, but the company was even better.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He winked at her, put his card in the bill envelope, then excused himself to go to the men’s room. Once she was certain the coast was clear, she dug in her purse as if she were searching for a bomb to turn off before it exploded, grabbed her phone, and sent Destiny a text:

Dinner went well. Too well. Determined to poke holes in his story, but he only equipped me with a spoon to do so. LOL. We’re about to go dancing. Some place called the Stinky Biscuit, I mean, Funky Biscuit. I’ll update you later.

She slipped her phone back in her purse.

Viper, please make me hate you… Better yet, don’t. I’m not vulnerable, but I have my guard up for good reason. Too bad I’m peeking over the fence I built to keep you out. And too bad I really like what I see on the other side…