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Writer's pictureAuthor Tisha Andrews

Rome Betelli Up Next!

Updated: Oct 11, 2021


Rome Betelli

Prologue

Ten Years Earlier


“Scared?” Summer probed, swinging her arm as she held my hand. She was nothing but a ball of nerves it seemed.


She’d practically skipped to the car in a strange cadence of sorts. One that seemed off yet calculated as she took deep breaths with each step. I glanced at the canary yellow ring she wore with pride. It wasn’t much, but it was a symbol of my devotion to her.


She’d often talked to herself, mostly when she was alone facing something huge. I guess it was since we were off to meet her parents after almost two years of dating. They weren’t on the best of terms but she felt they were finally in a place to introduce them to the most important man in her life.


Her words, not mine.


I almost didn’t go, hearing not so kind stories about her father coupled with my money not being right. I wanted to take them out, show them a great time and prove I was worthy of their daughter. She assured me that wasn’t necessary.


However, when your girlfriend’s allowance was more than what you had in your bank account on any given day, trust me, that shit was necessary. Still, I came because my Summertime said it was time. That’s what I called her, my Summertime. Without her presence, it felt like a day where the sun didn’t shine.


“No, not scared. Concerned,” I admitted. It was the first time since she’d come up with this idea.


“Concerned?” she repeated. Her walk morphing into a slow, cautious crawl as her laced fingers grazed the inside of my palm.


“Yeah, the first nigga you’re taking home, right?”


We weren’t hiding anything. Just living life, college kid shit. At least that’s what we’d convinced ourselves. But deep down inside, it was just us protecting our peace. Had to be since I felt a storm was brewing from her sweaty palms alone. Strangely, I had no clue since all I saw was my Summertime. She was it for me. No one could convince me otherwise.


Not even her parents.


“You are,” she beamed, her cheeks tightly hiked. Her Hershey colored skin flushed. Its red hue seeping through as she exhaled. I could feel the nervousness, her hands shaky as I held both in mine.


“What is your greatest fear?” That was the question we’ve always asked each other whenever we were chartering into unknown territory. A place that could rock our world, yet we’d survive as long as we had each other.


“Losing you,” she released and even though nervous, her voice sounded like it was layered with silk.


“Damn right.” I chuckled, touching her skin that felt like that same silk I’d heard in her voice. “A tragedy never to occur.”


Parents be damned. Besides, we had her Aunt Lorraine in our corner. She was the one Summer called the most. Even the one that shipped care packages filled with our favorite snacks. We called them hood snacks—Funyuns, hot Cheetos, M&Ms, Lemon Heads, and Boston Baked beans. Anyone who knew their way around the hood would forever hold a spot in my heart. That and she loved my Summertime.


“Then it’s going to be fine, baby,” I whispered, my lips grazing hers. “Besides, who wouldn’t fall in love with me? Shoot, even your mother might try to get at me,” I eased in, grinning.


When I did, she playfully punched me as she pursed her lips. Lips I couldn’t get enough up as I applied a gentle peck against them. Fuck, they were soft like pillows.


“Hmmmm. She better not.”


“I’ll just tell her I’m taken. Now, your father? If he’s anything like mine, that might be a harder egg to crack, but I’m up for the challenge,” I told her with confidence as we drove off.


Truth was I’d never met a girl’s father. Never wanted to, but Summer made me want to take that leap. By the time we pulled up several hours later, I took her by her hand and said a quick prayer. That prayer wasn’t for me though. It was for my girl, the first time jitters had her trembling.


“House full,” she announced, her eyes traveling around the semi-circular driveway. I wouldn’t consider it a house full gauging the size of the two story home, but perhaps more people inside than she was expecting.


“You’re good?”


“Me? Ye—yeah, let’s just get this over with,” she pushed out, sweat peppering her forehead.


“Cool, let’s do that,” I quickly agreed. I knew it was impossible to assume everyone’s parents were as cool as mine. Being here though meant that my parents were up next.


My stepfather Bennett might scare her with his presence alone. I won’t lie though. He was blunt, brutally honest, but loving and protective. He rode hard for his, especially when it came to his children.


Now my mother was the usual, nosy maternal figure. She made everyone feel like they’d known her all of their life. That was a tactic to get information, buttering up her prey just enough to extract intel she’d otherwise not receive from my baby brother, Swoon, or I.


“Baby, are you sure you’re good?”


I watched her sporting a constipated look, wondering if it were those tacos we’d eaten the night before. If nothing else, my Summertime could eat but I loved that shit. I loved all women, shapes, and sizes.


Proof of that was her little pudge I enjoyed wrapping my arms around as we spooned that matched her frame perfectly. I wouldn’t change a thing about it, eager to fill her up with babies and give her my last name.


“We’re here now, right?” was her response, as she took yet another deep breath.


“Baby, whatever it is, we are in this together,” I assured her. I leaned over and applied a kiss on her forehead. A hum released from her lips which solicited a growl from mine.


“The fuck you doing that for, woman?” I chuckled as she smiled, stroking my cheek.


“Ahhh, that’s what I like to see, a smile. That, however, can wait for later,” I told her, looking down and stretching my legs as my dick stood at attention and came to life. “Damn girl done gave me stiffy.”


“Hush,” she replied, lightly jabbing me as she giggled. Just like that, her mood had lightened and in that moment, I felt like everything would be fine. Had to be since I was with my girl, my Summertime.


Once her mother opened the door, I was instantly in awe. There stood an older and just as fine version of Summer wearing a white tank and khaki slacks that did an awful job of hiding those thighs, hips and ass her daughter possessed. Shoot, I could see why Mr. Knowles had snagged her and I had a chance to see what my girl would look like years later.


After they screamed and held on to each other. I stood there, my hands immersed deeply in my pockets feeling like a little boy. Shoot, my girl was nervous before, but now it was me. I couldn’t believe, I, Romelo Tyshon Betelli, had made it to the front porch to meet any girls’ parents. I was the “hit it and spin off” kind of dude and happily was until her. Still, I would do it a thousand times just to be with her.


“Oh?” her mother released, visibly shocked when she noticed Summer wasn’t alone. “Summer, honey. I didn’t know you brought company.”


Her mother then smiled, her eyes skating up and down as she took inventory of the man that hoped to call her mother one day. A subtle nod was an indicator that she approved as I slowly eased one hand out of my pocket.


“And he’s handsome,” she confirmed. She gave her a gentle squeeze, before extending her hand to me.


“I’m Terry Knowles and you are—”


“Not welcome at all,” a male voice boomed from behind, cutting her off. “Summer, who and the hell invited Rome Betelli here?”


To say that I was in shock was an understatement. I had no clue who he was, although I assumed he was her father given their resemblance—dark maple eyes, nose and skin complexion.


The bigger question was why and how he knew me coupled with an obvious anger as if I’d fucked his woman before. I won’t lie, I’ve had seasoned ass before but I’d remember her ass from anywhere and I’d never seen it before today.


“My God,” I heard her mother whispered, covering her mouth. “Patrick, please. He’s just a—”

“Don’t no Patrick, please me anything, Terry. This man and his entire family are nothing but disloyal and deceitful trash,” he spewed.


“Come again?” I asked. What did he mean disloyal and deceitful?


The fuck.


“Sir, I’m a bit confused about what’s going on here. Perhaps we go inside and have a talk. You know, get down to the bottom of this,” I suggested. I pray I didn’t hear my Summertime sniffle because if she did, the only talking that would occur would be me to the police.


Trust me, I’d coined her a walking river of tears. That was my Summertime. She cried at babies smiling, birds chirping and sappy, romance movies with C list actors. She was a Cancer like my brother Swoon, probably one of the reasons why we’d connected. They were emotional creatures, ones you felt compelled to coddle and protect, even kill for.


“I think not. You belong on the curb with your father,” was his last response before I knocked him the fuck out. I was bailed out the next day and instead of me riding back to Jonesboro with my Summertime, I was issued a restraining order and not from her father.


It was from her. Once she did, she’d successfully betrayed me and turned my heart cold.


Now who was the disloyal and deceitful one?

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