Free A Kingpin's Obsession: Ajoni's Story by London Starr

am guiding Anjuwan to a harsh reality check about real life and people in it. I just want my daughter to have the childhood that I never had before real life intrudes on her world.
    “I’ll tell you about the man that’s making her feel bad when you get older, baby,” I promise, and I will — just not now.
    Anjuwan begins to pout. “Mama, you always say when I’m older. How much older do I have to get?”
    Seeri stretches her hand over the island. “Anjuwan, come here and stir the cake mix for me before it is no good. I need to help your mama get ready to go.”
    “Okay, grandma. Bye, Mama.”
    “Bye, baby,” I respond, bend down for her to kiss me, then watch her climb on one of three wooden bar stools at the island and slide a glass bowl across the mosaic-tiled countertop to herself. Anjuwan will eat most of the mix if Seeri does not keep an eye on her. I have no worries that my mother will back in the kitchen before Anjuwan gets in her hundredth lick of the wooden spoon. Seeri has as long as it takes for me to pack a purse and get in my Honda SUV parked in the front driveway.
    I turn to leave the kitchen. Seeri follows me into the living room. On the right side of the fireplace is a long hallway between our bedrooms and bathrooms. As soon as we enter it, approaching my bedroom at the end of the hall and out of Anjuwan’s hearing distance, Seeri starts in on me.
    “Listen to me, Ajoni. There may not even be anything wrong with your father. Men have been faking whatever they need to to get what they want since the beginning of time. Your father is the same way. I won’t even mention how easy it is for King’s psychotic ass to fake something. I never knew he wanted you as badly as he did, until it was too late.” I would not be surprised if King did not even tell his lieutenants about his feelings for me, until he decided to act on them.
    “How he grew up is not your fault, Mama,” I say as I enter my room and approach the king size sleigh bed and an oak headboard against the opposite wall. It is similar to the one King made love to me on with my purse and car keys lying at the foot of it. Sometimes I wonder why I bought this bed; it is a constant reminder of King and what we did on his.
    “Ajoni, what is not my fault is King not having a chance to become a decent person when his mother abandoned him for the pipe and he had to learn to steal and kill to eat. I should have paid more attention to the people around us, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had your father shanked in jail just to get you to come back to Mecca.” I cannot deny that she could be right as I veer toward the right to grab my fake Burberry trench coat and scarf hanging behind mirrored-sliding closet doors. King does whatever it takes to get what he wants, and will only be a problem for me if he has gotten out of jail, which I am positive that he has not.
    “I’ll be careful, Mama,” I say to appease her while sliding the doors apart, then reaching for my coat. I put it on then button it over my matching fake Burberry knee-skirt and stiletto boots under a black, long-sleeved bodysuit that snaps between my legs. Anyone with a eye for fashion would know my Burberry is a shade off in color, but I wouldn’t dare buy the real thing with a baby to raise.
    Seeri shuts the closet doors back, goes to the bed, and grabs my knock off Coach bag and keys from the bed cover with a white and blue toile design with yellow highlights. She carries it all to me slowly, then reaches under the collar of my coat and sweeps my bone straight hair parted down the middle to my back. I can sense she still needs reassurance that I will make it back.
    “I won’t walk the streets of Mecca, Mama, or be there any longer than it takes to take care of the paperwork. I’ll be fine.”
    She hands my purse and keys to me reluctantly. “What if King is out, baby? What if he and his goons catch you off guard and hurt you like they did last time? I need you to take