Page 151 of Heart Of A Goon II

“Nah. Out of all the shit I heard, Chef being a father trips me out the most.”

Chef was easy as pie like his father. He was there and then he wasn’t, so assuming he had children or even a woman was a stretch. What woman would put up with his disappearing acts?

“I’m driving up there.”

“Where?”

“You slow, Khaos?”

He was offended I even asked. “I might be, because what the fuck would make you think you could drive up there at this time of night.”

“I’m not… you are.”

“Zoya, what the hell?”

I already started walking into the main building to borrow the courtesy cars they gave you to get around the island. Khaos was right behind me as I convinced the lady up front to give me keys.

“I don’t even remember the direction.”

“You make a left at the cow or something,” I replied, climbing into the truck, ready to take this voyage to beat the hell out of my man.

The Jeep slowly pulled around the roundabout and I watched as Gerald, because that was who he was right now, killed the engine and got out. He was so in his head that he didn’t notice us until Khaos beeped the horn.

“Thank God, ‘cause you don’t even fucking know how to get there.”

“Fuck is you going?” He ignored his brother and stared right at me.

“Don’t fucking curse at me!” I raised my voice.

“Wouldn’t have to if you wasn’t doing shit like this.”

“I said don’t fucking curse at me, Gerald!”

“Y’all both cursing at each other,” Khaos muttered.

“Shut up, Khaos!” we both yelled at the same time, and continued our intense stare down.

I climbed out the truck and walked back to my suite, pissed that he had the nerve to have that energy with me. I didn’t do anything to his ass. Why was he being like this to me?

By the time he made it to our suite, I had already removed my clothes and was in my silk slip. I should have been ordering room service and watching the Jamaican news, but I was standing here with my hands on my hips. Usually, I liked to give the silent treatment, but this nigga had beat me to it.

He kicked his slides off and took his shirt off, still not saying a word to me. It was like he refused to acknowledge me or something.

“Let me have done that to you, you would have called me a brat and selfish.”

He removed his watch. “Cause you would have been.”

“How? You didn’t say anything at dinner. Just left and didn’t call or answer your phone. That is fucked up!” I raised my voice.

“Did I not go and take my grandparents’ home? The fuck you wanted me to call on every mile that we passed?”

I backed up, shocked by the tone he was using with me. “I’d be damned if you did all this chasing, convincing me you are a good man to be spoken to like that. You wanted me to meet you half way, and when I’m doing it, you the bitch pulling back?” I snapped.

I paced the room venting and saying everything, and he said nothing. Instead, he stood there with his hands folded and watched me pace and vent. I was tossing in shit that happened to me in middle school. He had me so fucked up that all the men that wronged me and forced me into my villain era had to be part of this lecture.

“And you sitting there looking all silent and stupid,” I mushed him on my third pace past him.

He looked up. “Watch your fucking mouth, Zoya. Second, I’m listening to understand you, not to respond.”