Finessed a Dope Boy’s Heart
Racquel Williams
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Table of Contents
Title Page Copyright Page Prologue - Mika Chapter One - Jakeel Chapter Two - Shontelle Chapter Three - Mika Chapter Four - Jakeel Chapter Five - Shontelle Chapter Six - Mika Chapter Seven - Rasheem Chapter Eight - Mika Chapter Nine - Jakeel Chapter Ten - Rasheem Chapter Eleven - Mika Chapter Twelve - Gina Chapter Thirteen - Shontelle Chapter Fourteen - Jakeel Chapter Fifteen - Mika Chapter Sixteen - Gina Chapter Seventeen - Rasheem Chapter Eighteen - Jakeel Chapter Nineteen - Mika Chapter Twenty - Shontelle Epilogue - Mika Teaser chapter
Urban Books, LLC
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Farmingdale, NY 11735
Finessed a Dope Boy’s Heart
Copyright © 2020 Racquel Williams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6455-6075-3
eISBN 13: 978-1-64556-076-0
eISBN 10: 1-64556-076-7
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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Prologue
Mika
Niggas nowadays ain’t worth shit! Now, that might come off harsh. But as I lay here in this bed thinking, I can’t seem to shake the feeling of how I ignored the signs of a no-good-ass nigga, all in the name of love. Check this . . . You can be a pretty bitch, phat ass, good pussy . . . You can have money, have a career . . . You could spend your entire life cooking for the nigga, cleaning for him, and sucking his old, dirty-ass dick, and that nigga will still find a reason to go out there and find a bitch who has nothing going on for her-damn-self. Not even a pot to piss in!
I wiped the single tear that dropped from my eye. Turning my head, I looked over at Rasheem, snoring as he lay on his back, mouth wide opened. That shit made me sick. You would think after fifteen years of marriage, I would get used to him sounding like a damn freight train. No matter how much I pled with him to lie on his stomach, he would start there, but then end up on his back. I shook my head in disgust.
I remember when I was head over heels over this man. I met him years ago, at a company party. Back then, he was well built, burnt chocolate. As he walked into the room, he caught the attention of many of us—including me. I was just getting over a breakup with my college sweetheart and was looking to get back into the dating world.
Our eyes locked, and he shot me a smile. I was tingling all over, but I remained cool. My bestie, Joy, nudged me in my side and then whispered in my ear.
“I don’t know who that lad is, but he is checking you out,” she said in her raw British accent.
“Girl, he sure is fine. But there are plenty of fine ladies here, including you.”
“Cut the foolishness. I saw how he smiled at you. I can tell when a man is digging a woman.”
I didn’t respond to her. Joy was in law school and could win any argument. I conceded with my silence and took a sip of the wine that I was drinking. As the evening went on, we danced and partied. My feet started hurting, so I decided to sit down. I didn’t realize how much I had drunk until I almost stumbled over the chair that I sat in.
“Here, let me get that for you.”
Someone grabbed the chair and pulled it closer to me. I looked up and noticed that it was the tall, sexy brother from earlier. I felt embarrassed. Here, I was drunk, and he had to rescue me. I tried my best to maintain my balance, hoping not to fall in front of him.
“Thank you. I got it,” I said politely.
I started to sit . . . and stumbled into him. He grabbed me and hugged me tightly. His strong cologne hit my nose and instantly gave me a high. I felt his warmth, and at that moment, I didn’t want him to let go.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you this long. Here, sit down,” he apologized.
After I took a seat, I busted out laughing. I’m not sure if it was because I was drunk or because he made me nervous. Either way, it was funny as hell to me.
“I hope you’re not laughing at me,” he said in a sexy, rough voice.
“No, no, I’m laughing at myself. Here I am, stumbling all over the place. I hope no one else notices it. I sure don’t want to be the topic of the office jokes on Monday.”
“You’re good. Trust me. Everyone else is occupied or too drunk to pay you any mind. By the way, where’re my manners? I’m Rasheem.”
“Hey, Rasheem. I’m Tamika, but my colleagues call me Mika.”
“I love the sound of that ‘Mika.’ Are you from here? Georgia?”
“Oh no, I’m from Mount Vernon, New York.”
“Wow! An up north girl. I see where the feistiness comes from.”
“What