Chapter 10 Siriq EDITED TAKE 2

Sarik tries to contact Ari, but she threatens to block him. He discovers that Ari believes he is engaged to someone else. Sarik tries to reach out to Ari through various social media platforms. Troy, Ari's boyfriend, confronts Sarik and challenges him to a meeting. Sarik goes to the High Rollers Cigar Bar to meet Troy. Sarik is annoyed by Troy's speech and asserts that Ari will always be his. Troy pulls out a velvet box, leaving Sarik unsure of his intentions. Chapter 10 Sarik I unlocked my phone and navigated to my messages where Ari's new number appeared at the top. After a deep breath, I quickly composed a message, hoping it would reach her. Me. Ari. Ari. What, Reek? Didn't I tell you to leave me the fuck alone? I chuckle. Me. I see you ain't made good on your promise and blocked me. Ari. Not yet, at least. But I will soon if you don't stop. Besides, I'm pretty sure your fiancé would hate to know that you're still dick-riding your ex. Perplexed, I subconsciously tried to think why she assumed me and Bria were engaged. Me. Ari. The fuck you talking about? I ain't engaged to no one but you. The fuck I look like being attached to anyone but you? Three dots danced on my screen briefly, but nothing came from her end. Confused, I typed a response but immediately saw the words, not delivered at the corner. Damn, this time she really blocked me. In disbelief, I punched in her number and was hit with two bitch-ass long rings and a voicemail informing me that she had indeed blocked me. I tightened my eyes, feeling the heat of anger flashing through my body. The fuck kind of shit is Ari on? She had me out here looking crazy as shit, damning like a little bitch behind her. Without a second thought, I scrolled through her Facebook profile on my phone. At least I'm not blocked here, I said as I glanced at her profile picture. Her little boyfriend's picture wasn't there, which gave me the impression he was not making waves like she claimed. I went to her wall and left her a few messages to get her attention. I wrote, Ari, stop playing and call me. This is not the end for me, and I know it's not for you. Copying the message, I messaged her on Snapchat, Instagram, and even that bullshit-ass TikTok she liked so much. I gave her ass a few minutes to either respond or block me again. A pregnant pause filled the air, and my phone vibrated against the palm of my hand with an unknown message in my Facebook inbox. The fuck is this? I clicked the messenger icon, and a message request appeared. The name, Troy Mackins, appeared in bold under people you may know, and I became confused while trying to figure out who the fuck Troy was. I eagerly clicked on the message request, and the icon instantly caught my attention. It was a picture of this fuck-nigga Troy and my baby. My girl, Ari, hugged up and shit. I was sickened by the picture. Seeing how this clown-ass nigga had his hands tightly wrapped around Ari's waist and the size of his big-ass goofy smile made me feel sick. Fuck that nigga. I rolled my eyes and opened his message, reading his quick, annoying-ass introduction. Troy, I see you took my girl's words with a grain of salt, Sarik. Nevertheless, I cannot allow you to think it's cool to write to her and tag her in social media posts the entire day, since I know you've been asked a number of times to stop and leave her alone. I'm gonna have to ask you one more time to leave her alone. I sucked my teeth and responded, me, and what if I don't? The fuck your stiff, laced-up ass finna do about it? Seeing his name bouncing up and down on my screen, I prepared myself to read his reply, knowing damn well it would piss me off to the max before I even read it. Troy, let's get this clear. Really clear. Despite you going to the big house and all, I am not afraid of you nigga. Far from it. If you want us to go to another level and take it there, we can. My guy, I pay people to take out the trash, and you are no different. I chuckled at that. This nigga was hilarious to me. Had Ari not told him about me, I eliminated niggas for less. Me, you are talking a hell of a lot of shit for a nigga who holds no weight. I was daring him to try me with the response. Troy, bro, having street status and money is no different. You contribute what they call work by selling your community poison and hugging the block every day while I earned several degrees, got a well-paying job, and did things the right fucking way. So this so-called weight you hold is no different than the weight I hold. The only difference is that mine is legal and I won't go to jail behind it. My blood pumped hard in my head as I felt my anger pulsing in my chest. This nigga had the nerve to put my profession down as if I was a pussy nigga that held no power in the streets. My eyes narrowed to the screen, trying to generate a response that would let this nigga know what was going on. Me, well, nigga, if you feel so strongly about the way I was taking care of mine, why are you so pressed to try to do what I did for Ari now? Why are you in competition with me? It's because you know the only thing you can do for her is help her financially. Ain't shit you can do for her mentally or spiritually. I got her in that department. Hell, I'm pretty sure you not hitting the pussy the way I did. A Facebook call from Troy flashed across my screen and I wondered why he was calling me. My guess was he was tired of me heating him through text and he figured him calling and adding some extra bass to his voice would move me. Yeah, okay. Initially I refused the call, opting to type a response, but something told me to listen. A second call came in and I answered. Hello. My response dripping with annoyance. Sarik? This is Troy. Yeah, nigga. I know the fuck you are. What's good? The fuck you want, nigga? I think this back and forth is for the birds. I was thinking we could meet up to talk man to man, cause I can't allow you to keep reaching out to my girl. Your girl? Nigga, I let you hold her down for a minute, but Ari is far from your girl. He cut me off. Sarik, we could play this song and dance, trying to prove who has the biggest set of balls in their boxers, but we know that will never go in your favor. Instead of going back and forth, let's talk this out like real men. Meet me at the High Rollers Cigar Bar on 125th at 8. With that, he hung up the phone, leaving me stuck on stupid, debating if he was ready for the type of smoke I was bringing his way. When I entered the cigar bar, the dim lights were the first thing I noticed. It was a pleasant surprise to see scandalized women wearing one-piece bodysuits, fishnet stockings, and fancy tall heels. The trays were filled with fancy cigars from different countries and several short glasses of bourbon. My hand reached out to tap on the shoulder of a cute brown-skinned shorty carrying a half-empty tray. The small frame she was toting around did not match the massive ass she was carrying behind her. Seeing that ass, I wondered if she was all natural if she had taken a cheap Spirit Airlines flight to the D.R. and had laid down on somebody's table to fill it. I shook my head and lightly tapped shorty on the shoulder again as she turned on her heels and parted her lips. "'Tight, sugar? What can I get you?' she asked while balancing the tray on one hand. "'Uh, yeah, lil' mama. Can I get an Arturo Fuente cigar? A glass of Gentleman Jack and some ice? As a matter of fact, let me get two ice cubes. I'm also meeting someone here. Did a stuffy-suit nigga happen to come in here recently?' I asked, scanning for any sign of this bitch nigga. Grinning, she took a mental note of my order before speaking. "'Sure. Give me a minute to put this together. In the meantime, head over to the high-roller section. It looks like your party might be over there.' She pointed slightly to the left where I could see a lame nigga in a stuffy-gray suit. He was sipping from a glass and looked nervous as hell. "'Puss ass nigga,' I thought as I headed towards Troy's bitch ass. I settled into the chair across from Troy in the section he was occupying. Instead of acknowledging him, I waved shorty over who took my order. The waitress placed a cocktail napkin, my drink, and a cigar tray on the table for me. When I put the cigar in my mouth, she waited a few seconds before cutting the ends and lighting it. "'Thanks, ma.' I handed her a fifty, and she thanked me by winking before she walked away. I took a few pools from the Cuban and looked at Troy, who awaited me to acknowledge him. Despite this, I didn't. As a result, he began an already awkward and annoying conversation. "'Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Sarik. The circumstances aren't ideal, but I must protect my girl and be a man behind her.' My eyes were fixed on him, but I still didn't say a word. As a result, he continued. "'I know you may think what Ari and I have is a fly-by-night affair, but it isn't. My love for Ari is unconditional, but I can't make her my wife if you keep stalking her trying to sway her decision to really end things with you. Clearly, she is not interested in whatever you two had, so I'm asking one last time before I have to go and get a restraining order to leave her the fuck alone. Let this be the last time we speak about this.' He finished his drink, waiting for my response. It wasn't until I finished my own drink that I finally spoke up. My mouth dropped open in disgust at this nigga's little speech. I placed my glass down, laughing at his ass. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Are you done with that long-winded bullshit of a speech? Oh, you are. Let me rap to you real quick, homeboy. My love for Ari, or Lord Dason, will never fade. She will always be mine, and I will always be hers. This dick, this tongue, and the fact that I'm the only nigga who knows her, the real her, will keep her coming back to me even if she tries to convince herself she could move on with a powderpuff soft nigga like you. Keep believing she's gonna take your little relationship seriously. Hell, if you were dead-ass serious, you would've popped the question already. His eyebrows twisted up, and he reached inside his suit jacket pocket. Confusion poured out of me as I wondered if this nigga was trying to reach for the strap or not. Fuck, I left my shit in the whip. When he pulled his hand out, he held a single velvet box, and I knew exactly what was housed inside it. Did you mean this? He snapped the box open for me to view. I didn't want to seem impressed, but the ring was bad as fuck. A considerably large pear-shaped diamond surrounded in a platinum setting and small diamond baguettes. Fuck, that nigga blew my ring out of the water. I was at a loss for words, and Troy quickly noticed, breaking into a devilish smirk like he finally had one up on me. I guess it finally registered with you how serious I am about Ari. With that being said, for the last time, stay the fuck away from my girl before I have to get in contact with my powerful clients who know how to drag your ass back into jail where you fucking belong for parole violation, nigga. After that, he gathered his things, took a last sip from his drink, and exited the bar, leaving me wondering what had just happened.