The Game Never Ends. Zaire Crown
her cover for spending time with Shaun.
He turned a page. “Just lost track of time. Happens to the best of us.”
Tuesday wasn’t sure if he believed her or not. She thought Marcus would make an excellent poker player because the nigga had no tells.
She asked, “Did her school win?”
He nodded. “They had a little struggle but baby brought it home for her team. She calculated the square root of a number I couldn’t even fit in my head.”
He switched gears. “See Brandon before he left?”
“Yeah, I talked to ’em.” She made a point to add in: “And got cursed out for missing the staff meeting.”
“Should’ve been there.”
“I told you I had a crazy day,” she said defensively.
Marcus was cool. He just continued reading for a while then said, “I see you got your hair and nails done.”
He stated this as if it were just an observation but Tuesday read an accusation into it. She knew how fucked up this looked: on a day where she bailed on work and missed their daughter’s academic contest, to then stand in front of him with a fresh hairdo. She couldn’t even tell how he noticed, being that he hadn’t turned away from his book since she walked in.
Tuesday started to craft a lie that would explain it all then thought better of it. Her husband was the sharpest person she had ever met and anything she concocted would only insult his intelligence. Rather than dig a deeper hole, she just let the matter drop.
Marcus was wearing what had basically become his uniform as of late: a crispy wifebeater, long hoop shorts and ankle socks. He was in the house so much that Tuesday hardly remembered the last time she’d seen him dressed in anything that didn’t have a Jordan logo.
She took the opposite end of the sofa, kicked off her shoes, put her feet on the cushions and tucked them underneath his thigh for warmth. Marcus just tossed her a side-glance then kept reading.
“’Nisha sleep?”
“She crashed around seven thirty.” He consulted a Chrono-swiss timepiece Tuesday bought for him last year. “So she gone be up about two in the morning, full of energy and ready to play. Have fun with that.”
She rolled her eyes and gave him the finger. When he seemed too consumed with his book to feed into it she asked, “What’cho reading?”
“Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. He was the emperor of Rome in the second century, and one of its most brilliant field generals. He was also last of the great stoic philosophers.”
“I know who he is,” she lied. Tuesday had practically grown up in the strip club and gained her knowledge from the years spent there and in the stick-up game. On the other hand, Marcus had an intelligence that went beyond the hood. While he obviously had enough street smarts to get heavy in the dope game, her husband had also been to college and was a voracious reader. He was never condescending to Tuesday, but talking to him sometimes highlighted her eighth-grade education, and made her feel inadequate.
She said, “It ain’t like I don’t read stuff too.”
“All the time,” he agreed. “You ever finish the book I gave you?”
Tuesday couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “I’m working through it.”
“Okay.”
“I’m gonna finish it.”
He turned another page. “Okay.”
She hissed, “With everything I gotta do at Abel, I just don’t get a lotta time to read.”
He shrugged. “Take your time.”
It irritated the hell out of Tuesday when he acted like this, nonchalant like nothing she did or didn’t do mattered to him either way.
She erupted, “I’m not stupid, Marcus. I just got a lot I’m dealing with right now.”
He finally put down the book to look at her. “Who said you’re stupid? Bae, we both know your head is the main reason I’m with you.”
Tuesday didn’t miss the joke. He did that goofy little grin that brought out his dimples, and it was that easy for him to defuse her attitude, to make her smile.
“Oh, so now I’m just a trophy wife who’s only job is to pleasure you?”
“A trophy?” He laughed. “Winners get trophies—you’re a punishment. What fucked up contest did I lose to deserve you?”
Tuesday clubbed him with a sofa pillow and their playful wrestling match quickly turned sexual. Tuesday was sitting across his lap while his large hands roamed her body, squeezed her titties and rubbed her thighs.
This was what had attracted her to Marcus from the very beginning: their chemistry. The way they played with each other and slipped one another; for Tuesday it was like being with her best friend. Lately he had been withdrawn, and she could still tell something was weighing on him, but none of that had taken away his appeal. Tuesday was still absolutely crazy about him.
Growing up she had been that light-skinned girl who always crushed harder on the darkest boys. Marcus was a well-built six-foot-three with skin the color of Hershey bar chocolate. He stayed clean-shaven other than a thin mustache and goatee. Healthy living and exercise made him appear ten years younger than his forty-four.
Marcus slid his hands up her skirt but when he went in for a kiss, Tuesday turned away from it.
“Boy stop. What if Dani come back in here? Plus, why you wanna kiss me if I’m such a horrible punishment?” It was a clever diversion. Tuesday had just been with Shaun and wasn’t so dirty as to kiss her husband with another bitch’s pussy on her lips.
She wanted him but needed the opportunity to clean up first. So when she said, “I’m going to take a shower,” it was an invitation for him to join her.
Her husband looked suspicious. For a long moment he just stared at her, his eyes narrowed. Then he said, “You ain’t slick muthafucka. I know why you don’t wanna kiss me.”
Tuesday’s heart suddenly shifted from first to fifth gear. Her mouth went dry and it seemed harder to breathe.
“I know you been in there eatin’ my damn cookies,” he said through a smirk. “Esperanza make those just for me. Everybody know how I feel ’bout my walnut chocolate chip joints.”
“I’m sorry bae,” she said after a relieved gasp. She covered her mouth as if embarrassed. “I only got you for a few of ’em.”
He shook his head. “Yo’ greedy ass.”
She grabbed his dick and massaged it through the thin nylon shorts. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you how greedy I really am.”
“Go on up. Just let me knock out the rest of this chapter.”
Tuesday snatched the book. “I got something more important I need you to knock out.”
“C’mon bae, I’ll meet you up there in twenty minutes.” There it was again, that far-off look flashed within his warm brown eyes.
Tuesday could feel his stiffness in her hand so she knew he wanted to fuck, but she returned his book also knowing the time he required had nothing to do with his interest in the Roman emperor.
Tuesday didn’t press him about it because she wasn’t trying to spoil the mood. Instead, she tried to tempt her man with the one thing she knew had always been his weakness.
The only bonus to gaining so much baby weight was that a lot of it had gone to her husband’s favorite places. Tuesday always had a fat ass but the pregnancy had basically given her a free butt augmentation without the surgery or silicone.
Working out with Shaun had helped to shed the excess around her