Page 91 of Lyric Squared

“I’m happy that I’ve made your home a more comfortable place, then, Keanu.”

“Our home,” I corrected.

“Our,” she repeated after me.

As the daysturned into weeks, the love I had for Lyric began to solidify. I looked forward to my nights with her. Though she required her space often, at least six of the seven nights a week, we were beside each other. I loved that shit.

Because with her, everything was so simple. She didn’t require much of me other than me being myself. Her body heatkept me out of the streets and underneath her every chance I got. I turned in early almost every night just to make it back to her before she was too tired to interact with me for the night or dinner that she’d cooked got too cold.

Not only did she fill my stomach, but she filled my heart, too. With Valentine’s Day slowly approaching, she even filled my home with red ribbons and hearts throughout it that I was adamantly against at first but grew to accept. This was what it was like having Lyric in my world. She spared no expense when it came to anything she was passionate about and love happened to be one of those things.

Love.

Family.

Finances.

That was her life. She was a numbers girl which was why I’d been changing the digits on her account daily so that she could begin the process to start her funding project. So that her account activity wasn’t suspicious or flagged by the bank, she deposited small increments of nine thousand dollars that were subtracted from the three-hundred thousand dollar investment I’d made. It would get her first fifty to sixty clients out of the door with twenty-five hundred to ten thousand dollars in low-interest loans to get their businesses off the ground.

“Busy as usual, huh?” I heard Deidra say just as I hit submit on the order I was placing.

Every Sunday, like clockwork, I promised myself I’d send Lyric a hundred red roses. It was only my second time, but the amount of pussy she dropped in a nigga’s lap after the first one had me ready to send her a hundred more every Wednesday.

Valentine’s Day was approaching, and she’d made it clear that she was expecting the unexpected from me. I wasn’t opposed. It was whatever when it came to her and she knew that shit. The hints she’d been dropping in the meantime, though,were helping me out a great deal. I appreciated every picture she showed me, every video she made me watch, every website she made me scroll with her, and every item she named as possible gifts.

If it was left up to me, I’d toss a ring on her finger and put a baby in her belly for Valentine’s Day, but those would honestly be my gifts. I had to make sure she was covered, too. Besides, she still had a few weeks left to let her people know what was up with us. A ring would only reveal what they still didn’t know.

“You know it,” I responded, never looking up from my phone.

The confirmation screen appeared and though I’d read it just a week prior, I read it again. I wanted to make sure that I’d sent it to the correct address and the delivery would get to Lyric in a timely manner.

Her home. Mine.

My home. Hers.

We bounced around from house to house, mainly staying at mine but occasionally hers. Today, she was home for her weekly refresh. Her days were as busy as mine, but soon she’d only be spending an hour or two on accounts and then working on building her dream business. She’d already started implementing her exit strategy so that she could have the freedom to whatever the hell her heart desired.

Once I confirmed, I exited Safari and entered our text thread to pick up where we’d left off. Before I was able to respond to the last message she’d sent, Laike was calling my line.

“Laike, what’s up, homie?” I answered.

“Sunday dinner, nigga?” he blurted.

From the noise of his background, I could tell he was somewhere handling business.

“I did not say call and ask that nigga. I told you to call and tell that nigga!” Luca yelled from a distance.

“Tell that nigga he’s got three little ninjas. I’m not one of them. My pops dead.”

“Nigga, you coming or what?”

“He ain’t got another choice!” Luca interfered, again.

“And, if I don’t?” I geared my question toward Luca.

“I’m shooting out the tires to that slow ass Trackhawk every time I see it. The folks at the tire shop going to know you personally.”

“I never took well to threats,” I quickly reminded him.