Free The Ex Factor: A Novel by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

was coming to see me and shit. You know how it is when a niggah locked up. They mind be all fucked up, they can hardly think straight.”
    “What about me, Walik?”
    “Imani, you my fuckin' wife. I ain't gon' have you in prison, fuckin' me like that, sitting on my lap, all out in the open.”
    “Please, we used to do it all the time.”
    “I know, baby, but come on, at least I wasn't on no downlow shit. I just wanna be honest. All she doing is having my baby. Fuck that bitch. You know she like a stray dog, any niggah that feed her can keep her. Hell, she can't ever get what you and Jamal got. I love you, and I ain't leavin'.”
    Imani turned around and buried her head in Walik's chest. His cologne was causing such a seduction in her nostrils that she felt like she had popped some Ecstasy and was just starting to trip.
Why do I let him do this to me?
“Walik, this is too much. I don't think I can swing with it, this time.” Imani lifted her head so she could watch the reaction on his face.
    He started sucking on his bottom lip, a habit he'd had since he was a kid when he would get mad. Trying to control his temper, Walik squinted at Imani. “Let's go, right now.”
    “Walik—”
    “What the fuck did I just say, I'm not playin' no more. Now, you my wife… bottom line. I love you, I ain't leavin', and on top of that I wanna fuck you in our bed, understand?”
    Imani's pussy melted on the spot. “Walik,” she whined, “I wanted to hang with my girls for a while.”
    “Hang out tomorrow.”
    “My mother's bachelorette party is tomorrow.” “So what you saying?” “Nothing.” Imani turned her head, looking around for the girls. She spotted Tasha, placed her hand to her ear, and made a motion for Tasha to call her, then she pointed to Walik and waved bye.
    Tasha shook her head.
    Imani and Walik walked outside. Walik looked at Imani and pointed to a cab. “Since you can hang out in the club and shit, then you know you got to pay for this, right?”

(Celeste)
     
    S HARIEF HADN ' T BEEN home in two nights. He called Celeste and told her he was working a double shift and would be home sometime this morning.
    Anthony Hamilton's “Charlene” was on repeat, playing seductively through the kitchen's surround sound. It was eight o'clock in the morning and the kids were still sleeping. Celeste sat at her marbletop bar that doubled as a breakfast nook with her ankles crossed, sipping on a cup of instant café au lait.
    She took a puff off her Virginia Slims Menthol Light. The music continued to play softly in the background as the aroma of cinnamon-and-spice potpourri filled the air. The house was completely clean, and all she had to do was wait on the freshly waxed kitchen floor to dry, go to the grocery store, come back, and begin setting up for Starr's bachelorette party this afternoon. If everything went according to plan, Starr's party was going to be the first exciting thing she'd done since fucking herself with the beaver dildo.
    Celeste took one last drag off her cigarette and mashed it in the ashtray. Afterward she stretched her leg and touched the floorwith the heel of her foot to see if the wax was dry, but it wasn't. As she lifted her cup to take a sip of coffee, the phone rang. “Hello?”
    “Hey, Celeste,” Monica said, faking excitement, “what time did you want me to come over?”
    “Leave now, that'll put you getting here in about an hour. Don't bring Imani, though, 'cause that li'l bitch gets on my nerves. Let Queen Pen and her down-for-whatever clique stay on Flat-bush until the cops run through again.”
    Monica took a deep breath. “Celeste, please. Not today. I'll be there in a little while: I have to drop Jamal off first.” And she ended the call.
    As Celeste hung up, she noticed Sharief walking into the kitchen. “The floor is wet.” She gave him a quick once-over.
    He looked down at the floor. “My fault.”
    “No problem,” she said calmly, “it's almost dry anyway. So how are