"I'm not complaining

I'm just tired

Of your comings, your goings, your leavings, your stayings

Yesiree

Wouldn't you agree? Well…

I'm not complaining

I'm just tired

Of your comings, your goings, your leavings, your stayings

Yesiree, hay, hay, hay, hay, hay, hay

Wouldn't you agree?

I held your heart close to me

But it didn't mean anything"

N'Dambi – "Ode to Nina"

Disa grabbed for the hair of the woman in her bed. Erik stood near the nightstand like an imbecile, acting totally confused, as if that would fool her into thinking he had been faithful. His lover had a condom from his brand inside of her pussy and screamed like a banshee when Disa lifted her by her head and flung her against the wall.

"Killmonger!" the woman shrieked with pleading eyes toward Erik.

She kept yelling for Disa's fiancé with that ugly name with such intimacy that it made her skin crawl with pure rage.

"His name is Erik, you fucking bitch!"

Erik grabbed her around the waist and lifted her away, but Disa turned on him again and punched him the way her daddy taught her to fight. She fought off three brothers for years when they did her wrong, and those skills served her well as she aimed for Erik's chest and face. His lips poked out in frustration, and she knew he was about to go off on her. That's when she kneed him in his balls. He tumbled back into their closet door, knocking it off of its tracks. She pulled off her right pink sneaker and beat his ass. Head, chest, another kick in the dick, Disa got to working him over in a frenzy. He fumbled with his hands to block her strikes.

"Disa! Dammit! Would you stop! I ain't did shit! Ouch! Girl quit it! Stop kicking my nuts!"

Knocking him across the temple, Disa hauled her right hand back with the shoe to bust his lip open, but he grabbed her hands and pulled himself up to his full height. He threw her on the bed and held her arms down by her sides. She wiggled like a feral alley cat and kept screaming at him. It drove her crazy when a sneer painted his full lips like he enjoyed her anger, enjoyed her unchecked jealousy. Some other woman rode his dick while she was flying home to his selfish ass. Put her mouth on his heavy erection and felt that thick vein down the middle of his length throb in her throat. Disa thrashed harder, feeling more upset that the thought equally aroused and pissed her off. The image burned in her mind. What thrill did that bitch get when he pressed his heavily scarred chest against her breasts? She was supposed to be wrapping her thick thighs around him and getting that good pounding that stretched her insides and brought down tears.

"Cecily, get your shit and go!" he thundered.

"Oh, so you do know her, you lying piece of shit. Get off me!"

She struggled in his arms and the stench of hard liquor sweating through his skin and foul breath rolled off of him.

"You dirty, stinking, lying ass hoe!"

"I ain't did nothin'!"

"You a damn lie! There's lipstick on your dick!"

Cecily reached down and slapped Disa, her nails scratching her cheek. Erik's hand darted out and snatched the woman by her throat. He lifted her and threw her into a heap on the floor.

"Asshole!" Cecily shouted.

Cecily flew at Erik, and he palmed her face, throwing her back again. Disa jumped off the bed and shoved the woman into the carpet with her foot.

"Don't you touch him. I'm the only one fucking him up!"

Cecily clawed at Disa's legs until she rose to her feet. Her arms became sorry excuses for slap fighting while Disa gave targeted punches to the nose and mouth. Erik lifted Disa up again and carried her into the living room. The other two people there were already dressed and shocked by the violence.

"Get out of my house! Get out of my house!" Disa screamed.

She thrashed in Erik's arms, and he used his muscles to subdue her.

"Stop it, Disa. It's not what you think. Stop overreacting before you get all the facts."

She tried to bite his arm, but he was too strong and had her pressed tight against his hard body. His hard dick was sandwiched against her ass. No matter what was happening, his dick was always going to be disrespectful at any given moment. She refused to cry, but the heat in her eyes blinded her to the rage tears that flowed down her cheeks.

The man who fucked a stranger on her couch approached them with hands held out to calm her. His deep voice agitated her more when he spoke.

"Disa, hey… I'm Tyson. These are my guests. I know the house is a mess, but it was just a bachelor party for me and my buddy Killmonger here. I'm shipping out next week with a new unit and we did a joint party for getting married and getting new assignments. He said you guys had a housekeeper that would take care of everything. I'm sorry I thought you were her."

Who was this man?

Disa had never seen him before in her life. The woman he fucked stuffed a skimpy G-string and pasties into a plastic bag.

"Who are these women, Erik?"

She stopped struggling in his arms to lure him into loosening up his grip.

"Strippers, baby."

"Adult entertainers, thank you very much," the white woman quipped with annoyance.

"You hired these women to fuck you at a bachelor party?"

"I didn't hire anyone, and I didn't mess with anyone!"

"Nigga! Look at your dick!"

The white woman snickered.

"What's so funny?" Disa asked.

"Guys always say that. Listen, honey, it was a crazy X-rated party, and they paid us well. If it helps, we only stayed over because we got too drunk to drive."

"See?" Erik pleaded.

He released Disa, and she turned on him, slapping him again.

"That doesn't excuse you for fucking someone else."

"I didn't fuck her."

Cecily stumbled out of the bedroom with a red catsuit on with matching stiletto heels.

"I'm going to sue all of you for assault!"

Disa lunged for her again, and Erik grabbed her arm and held her back.

"You were in bed with my fiancé! You deserve to get your ass beat again!"

Erik charged toward the woman and gripped her wrist, pulling her over to Disa.

"Tell her we didn't fuck."

Disa jumped in his face.

"She had a condom in her pussy! I also hate to sound redundant but, THERE'S LIPSTICK ON YO DICK!"

"I didn't put it there!"

"Then it came off while you were screwing around and she gave you oral."

"Disa. I swear to God, Ogum, and my mother that I didn't have sex with her—"

"You nutted on her tits!"

"Can't deny that!" Cecily snapped.

"I'm not about to have a stripper make me lose my lady."

"You fucked this dude after you did him?" the other stripper said, pointing to Tyson.

"What was this? An orgy party?" Disa said.

"A bukkake and booty bounce party," the white stripper said.

"Allah, help me not kill this man where he stands!"

Tyson stared at Erik's stressed face, and then he turned to Disa.

"Listen, Disa. I apologize for organizing this thing. Killmonger said it was cool because we just came off a rough mission and we wanted to have fun and relax to relieve stress and shit. I was with Cecily and…"

He snapped his fingers and glanced at the white woman.

"Margot," the stripper said with bite in her voice.

"Yeah, Margot. Our threesome got a little wild, and I sent her to get more condoms from Killmonger—"

"Erik. Don't call him that other name when I'm around," Disa said.

"Okay, I hear you. I didn't have any condoms on me, so my man hooked me up with some of his. He was passed out in his room and I don't know why she didn't come back, but I assure you, sweetheart, he was knocked out before we did our thing. Why didn't your ass come back from the room?"

Cecily darted her eyes toward the floor.

"He was just so sexy laying there. I thought I could entice him to give me what we all saw when you guys… you know. Nutted on us."

"It was a respectful nut, Disa," Tyson said.

"I don't remember all that," Erik said.

"You were fucked up. We snuck some of that English shit into the drinks. Fried your brain partna! You were knocking them back like there was no tomorrow!" Tyson said.

Erik touched his forehead. He didn't look well.

"I don't believe none of this shit. You fucked this woman and wanna pretend like you had no control—"

"When the fuck have I ever lied to you? You ever see me looking at anyone else? Huh? I have a genius I.Q. so you know damn well that if I wanted to nut in some random bitch, I wouldn't do it here knowing you could show up at any time!"

Disa chewed on her bottom lip to keep from screaming at him again. She wanted to believe him, but if he was chugging down foreign stuff without knowing it, there was no telling what he was capable of doing. And as of late, she had no idea who he really was anymore. He'd turned into a prideful, aggressive killing machine. The dreaded Killmonger. All of his work buddies called him that. He had no outside friends near him like Walter, Shaun, or any of his other boys from D.C. He lived in a brutal military bubble that rewarded bringers of death.

"I don't know who you are anymore. You are not the same man who asked me to marry him. Right now, I'm not sure if I want to anymore."

"Disa? Fuck you talking about?"

Tyson turned his attention to Cecily.

"Tell his fiancé the truth. There was no way he could fuck or do anything in his state when he left the living room. You two did your floor show, and all the guys got off with the bukkake shit. You kept bothering him after he jacked off and he told you he wasn't interested. I have five other guys who were witnesses to that and will back me up if I called them right now. What did you do to him while he was passed out drunk?"

Cecily twisted her smug lips.

"I sucked his dick. The condom had to be from you after I hopped off your dick so Margot could do you. We were drinking too, so I may have gotten a little carried away—"

"A little? You took advantage of me while I was out cold!"

"I just sucked your dick for like ten seconds and crawled into bed with you. I passed out myself."

Erik put his hands over his face and lurched forward like he was about to throw up. Tyson helped him go to the bathroom.

"You and me have some talking to do," Disa said, rolling up her sleeves.

Margot stepped between them.

"Can we just forget this all happened? Cecily will forget assault charges on her end, and if you'll just ignore the whole dick thing—"

"Why the fuck would I do that? I don't know how many dicks she had in her mouth before she put that dirty hole on my man's penis."

"He's not some innocent bystander," Cecily screeched while wagging her finger. "He was into the action with the bukkake. He came real hard all over me. It was the most cum I've ever seen in my life. Other dudes started nutting right after he went. If you took care of him yourself, he wouldn't have to get off all over my titties. He squeezed them all up and down his dick after I gave him a lap dance… even before the bukkake started. Check your man and you won't have these problems."

Disa took off her other shoe, and the front doorknob wiggled. Pammie, their Honduran housekeeper, stepped in. The two women flounced out of the condo.

"Oh, excuse me? Is the party still going on?" Pammie asked.

"What is my life right now?" Disa whispered.

"Should I come back later?"

"No, Pammie. Do like normal. Hold on a minute…"

Disa unzipped her travel purse that was still connected to her suitcase. She palmed the last of the cash she had on her. Eighty dollars.

"Here's extra for the extra mess."

"Thank you, Disa. Are you okay?"

"No. I'm not."

Disa dipped her toes into some flip-flops from the closet and slipped her hand around the handle of her suitcase. She pushed it into the closet and grabbed her purse.

"Bye," she said.

Disa left her condo to get some air and time to think.

###

The music was extra loud and extra raunchy when Erik started the party with Tyson. It was a combo beach gathering and cookout. His SEAL buddies and a few marines from Camp Pendleton showed up to surf, boogie board, and eat pork ribs slathered in Disa's homemade BBQ sauce recipe. It was Eddie from the Amphib Base who brought the liquor from England that he shipped just for the occasion. He called it English moonshine, and he brought a case of it they mixed with Peach Schnapps and vodka. It went down easy and that was the beginning of the end for Killmonger. His high tolerance for alcohol fooled him into thinking he could glide by with the new stuff. Four strippers showed up after the poker games and shit-talking at the beach. They turned up the party full-tilt boogie, and he didn't care. The condos on that floor were all vacant except for theirs. He let the neighbors upstairs and downstairs know he was going to get loud and paid them money to go out for the night on him.

The liquor had him loquacious and wanting to bond with the men. They lost a comrade in the Stark mission and it felt mandatory to live it up for a day. Overeat. Overindulge in libations. Hire strippers. Tyson wanted X-rated adult entertainment, and he paid for it. He found the service that catered to all nude private dancers and the women showed up with side hustles on their own once they saw that every man there was built, young, and virile. Killmonger had no qualms with kinks, so the thought of bukkake didn't cause him to pause and think after Tyson informed him about their participation in consensual sexual acts.

The women were fine. Especially Cecily. His condo was filled with fifteen military men wearing swim trunks and speedos. Hard dicks made their appearance early and often. He was loose, feeling wavy, and a Black woman with big tits, slim hips, and a naked pussy made him think of Disa coming home. But then thoughts of his fiancé drifted into the cosmos and he groped his trunks on his side chair and squeezed his meat, watching Cecily shake her tits while she pranced around the room giving lap dances. The SEALs didn't give a fuck. They lived together in close quarters, fought side by side, and took shits while having a conversation in front of one another when they had to. Circle jerks were nothing. Most of the guys had their junk out ready to spill jizz when that part of the show came up.

Cecily came his way as Margot and the other women shimmied and shaked for the crowd. Her plump little booty circled his lap, and she felt his stiff wood. He grinned, and she dropped to her knees and shook her tits with her hands, making him groan. Pulling out his dick, he jerked off, abiding by their rules of looking and only touching if invited to. Killmonger enjoyed the spectacle of her teasing him and parting her lips. Her tongue snaked out to titillate him and he closed his eyes, thinking of fucking her face in his imagination. Two plush mounds smothered his dick, and his eyes popped open to watch in a liquor-fueled slow-motion haze of movement. There was no conscious thought of right or wrong. Disa didn't even cross his mind then. His dick grew harder and Cecily moved on to the next man before all the women got on their knees for the bukkake jam fest. They talked nasty shit with lush painted lips, stuck fingers in their mouths and pussies to get all the men off. The music could barely drown out the groans and moans and desperate pants of the soldiers stroking their dicks. Some had their swim trunks all the way off. Most had them pushed past their hips.

Tyson nutted first all over Margot's face. She took it like a champ and encouraged him to milk every drop. Harsh cries of release excited the women more and their seductive words became honey to bees.

Killmonger would've been satisfied with stroking and being a voyeur, but Cecily stared at him and rubbed her plump clit. Her pussy was juicy, and she kept flicking her tongue like a good little slut the way he liked his women to behave with him. She licked her fingers after inserting her digits inside her walls.

"Like that, Daddy?" she said directly to him.

Four men stood around her, but she made sure Killmonger could see her. She plucked at her nipples and kept saying over and over, "Nut on me, Daddy," and he lifted his big body and walked over to her like he was in a trance. His skin blazed with fiery heat and he sweated copious drops of liquid down his back and thighs.

"Mr. Big Nuts," she purred, flicking her tongue and looking up at him with killer brown eyes.

She lifted her round globes, and he shot several hot loads all over her chest. Sticky ropes coated her as she squealed with arousal. He threw his head back and groaned while milking his semen, and the other four men exploded like fireworks all over her face. Killmonger stepped back from her and pulled up his trunks. Cecily looked like a glazed donut dripping with cum. The urge to shove his dick in her mouth washed over him, but he fought the sensation to concentrate on staying up on his feet. The alcohol burned in the back of his throat and the room spun a bit. He stumbled back to his seat and exhaled his soul into the air. The release tired him out and his eyes blurred with a spinning head, making him dizzy.

Resting his eyes, he pressed his neck into the headrest of the chair and gathered his bearings. He was fucked up in the head and body, and he knew it. Opening his eyes minutes longer than he could remember, Cecily danced around him, cleaned up from a shower, and was ready to entertain the men again who could rise to the occasion once more. She propositioned him to go into another room to be alone with her. Two of the guys were already openly fucking the other strippers who still had cum all over them.

"Nah," he said, pushing Cecily away and stumbling to his bedroom.

Killmonger fell on his bed. His eyelids grew heavy and his body felt like it was going down a fast elevator. He prayed he didn't vomit and choke to death.

###

The only woman who ever fought him physically with the veracity of Disa when she worked him over was Marisol during a capoeira match as a child.

Killmonger woke up in a fog of hangover pain and the excitement of seeing Disa again. He thought he had dreamed her voice, but he opened his lids and regarded her sitting on a chair and praying out loud with her eyes latched onto his face. She looked beyond pissed.

Cecily further confused him with her body wrapped around his. Disa fought him and he protected his vital parts. She meant to give him the business, and he took it. Once his brain clicked into place, he became furious at the egregious accusations. Even when he looked down at his own penis with proof of betrayal in Disa's eyes, Killmonger refused to cave into the trail of circumstantial evidence against him. Lipstick on his dick or not, a naked woman draped all over him with a condom from his box in her coochie didn't matter. He wasn't guilty and righteous anger ran through him when he lifted Disa and carried her fighting ass to the living room.

Tyson stood in the bathroom's doorway as he wretched into the toilet, a purge of sour liquid pouring out of his mouth, forcing him to leak thick tears from the force of the vomit.

"Man, I'm sorry 'bout this shit. I don't know why the fuck that bitch stayed in bed with you. Uh, Disa won't snitch to my fiancé, will she? About me fucking these hoes?"

Killmonger raised himself up from the toilet bowl and turned on the shower. Tyson left him alone, and he stepped into the hot steam. He brushed his teeth and gargled afterward. Pammie's voice sang out with the Honduran punta music she loved listening to while she cleaned. Throwing a towel over his lower half, he left the bathroom and went out onto the balcony to rest while the woman cleaned.

"Disa isn't here," Pammie called out to him.

He nodded and closed his eyes while stretched out on a lounge chair. The sun was blistering, but just what he needed. He sniffed his arms. His pores still smelled like that foreign liquor.

Killmonger slept for over two hours. Seagulls screeching woke him up. He stood and stretched. Turning toward the sliding glass door, he noticed Disa on their couch, reading a book. She had changed into a forest green lounge-around-the-house outfit that sat loosely around her body.

"If you wanna fight again, lemme put some clothes on," he grumbled.

His temples throbbed and his stomach stayed queasy.

"I don't want to fight."

"Still pissed?"

"I'm still upset."

He sighed and plopped down next to her.

"Is it because of the bukkake? I remember that shit now. I did it. I pulled my dick out in a room full of horny men beating meat, and I came all over her tits. I'm not making excuses for that."

"I don't care about that."

"You don't?"

"Men being men. I've been with you to strip clubs where you've nutted in your pants from lap dances in front of me. It is what it is in those situations."

"What's the problem then? Why is your face still looking mad?"

"Where are we headed, Erik? What can I expect with this new assignment? What is your goal? Not us, but you?"

He was losing her. His chest and stomach crawled with the knowing that Disa was slipping away from him now that he was deeper in his military bag. Walking over to their kitchen, he poured himself some water and drank it all down before returning to the bedroom and pulling something from the bottom of his sock drawer.

He returned to the living room and sat down closer to her. Taking her hand in his, he kissed the back of her palm, then held her hand against his cheek.

"Look," he said.

He pulled his bottom lip all the way down, and her eyes grew wide.

"What is that?"

Her index finger touched his vibram tattoo.

"This marks me as a Wakandan. There aren't many of us outside of that country like regular people. My father gave me this so my people would know me."

He opened his other hand and showed her the small sample of vibranium he found with his father's notes. Shaking the metal, the glow and the kinetic energy that flowed from it made her lips part with wonder when he sat it in her palm.

"Hold it up to my chin," he directed.

Disa raised it and the surge of power she felt made her drop the metal on her lap. She rubbed her hand on her thigh several times.

"When in close contact with anything made from it, you'll feel its power immediately. Don't worry, the sensation will fade away."

She picked up the vibranium again.

"That right there is worth a ton of money. It is the source that makes my country so powerful. And rich."

"Wakanda is rich?"

"They hide their wealth. It's why they also hide themselves and the truth about what they have. I'm moving into the ghost unit because I need to get into the world of the C.I.A. and other black ops units to help me take over Wakanda one day. All this training, and taking on new assignments, is setting me up to rule. Take over the world. If the U.S. government or the military knew I had this stuff, they'd kill me and you to steal it. It can make powerful weapons. Weapons that could even withstand the technology of the Atlanteans."

The look in her eyes told him she knew he wasn't bullshitting.

"This can go through metal detectors anywhere. It's a renewable energy source. You could take this stuff and build homes and buildings that are energy efficient, carbon-emissions free, and provide affordable and even free housing for people globally."

"Why can't you go do this now? Go to Wakanda. You're a prince. You could bring this to the world."

"Not while T'Chaka is still king. I'm going to kill him and take the throne once I complete my stint with the ghost unit. Until then, I need you to be patient with me."

"You like killing, don't you?"

"It's a necessity."

"For you?"

"For us. I would be crushed by the Wakandans if I went there now. Before I can go there, I have to find one more key. I'm after someone. Until I find them, I can't tell you who they are or what they do. There will be times when you will just have to trust me, Disa, even when I can't give you outright information. I have to use the military to achieve my goal. I'm not just talking about taking over Wakanda, baby. Global power is what I'm talking about. T'Chaka is a snake maneuvering the U.N. and the U.S. to do his bidding. This whole book tour and goodwill traveling shit are fake. My father should've been king."

He pounded his fist in his hand with the vibranium.

"I will run through as many people as necessary to carry out my goal."

She stroked his newest keloids.

"This isn't you," she said.

"It is me. Always has been."

"That's not true. The Navy is turning you into a monster. A beast. What does killing people you don't know outside of Wakanda, outside of Africa going to do for you? All it does is make you part of the war machine. Talking about saving the world and murdering people in it is—"

"A necessary task. I kill targets that already harm innocent people."

"There are always casualties of war. Civilians get wiped out every day over shit that has nothing to do with them. The military makes horrendous mistakes all the time. Collateral damage."

"I'm doing what I gotta do to get where I need to be. I need you to stand with me, Disa. I'm not capping—"

"One thing you've never been is a hypocrite, Erik. If you're scared to go to Wakanda, just say that—"

"Do I look like I'm fucking scared?"

He jumped up in front of her and flexed his chest.

"I'm gathering all the ammunition I need to take what's mine. Now isn't the time, because this is a long game venture!"

"What if you get killed? What am I supposed to do? Go to your people for you? What do I say? If we have kids and you get blown to bits, am I supposed to go to Wakanda and be all 'Hi, my man wanted to off you, but he got himself killed instead'. Is that the conversation I'm to have if that occurs?"

"Think of what we could do with this," he pleaded.

She plucked the metal from his hand. He got down on one knee and cradled her hands.

"Baby, stick this out with me and you could build the world you want to see. Unlimited resources. Unlimited wealth to split capitalism and America in two for our people. The diaspora needs this to happen."

"King of the world?" she asked.

"Queen of the world. Hang in there a little while longer. Everything will be alright. I promise you this. On my soul."

"I just…"

"You just what? Talk to me."

"I don't want you to become corrupt with the desire for power. Every man who has started off with good intentions fucked up along the way. Power tends to corrupt—"

"—and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I know the Lord Acton quote too."

"Did you forget the last line of that quote? 'Great men are almost always bad men'. Is that what you aspire to be, because trust, you are on your way by staying in the military. The SEALs haven't had a great reputation for years. Wasn't it you who said they had questionable leadership that allowed a lot of dudes in with problematic moral and ethical traits? I mean, was it smart to have a wild bukkake party in our house? What if that Cecily chick decides to really sue us? Your character could come into question too," she said.

"If I gotta do bad shit to be great, I'm willing to do it no matter what. This is bigger than me being a king. It's about crushing a system that exploits our people everywhere."

"I want to see that happen. God, I want to see the fall of corruption, poverty, homelessness... I want us all to flourish—"

"Then let me handle my shit."

He squeezed her hand.

"I don't want to lose you out there," she said.

"You won't."

Her eyes glanced at his scars again. She was frightened.

"Speak to no one of this," he said.

His wording sounded like his father, N'Jobu. He pulled her in close and looked to the future.

Finding Klaue.

###

Joint Special Operations Command.

JSOC.

Navy Seals. Air Force Combat Controllers. Army Civil Affairs troops.

Erik fell under the jurisdiction of the Special Operations Command, which was the most secretive. Four Tier 1 special mission units were the cream of the entire community. His team, the Naval Special Warfare Development Group (DEVGRU), was the first to get calls on all missions the U.S. sent them out for.

Disa begrudgingly packed up all their belongings again and moved across the country to the newly rebuilt Fort Bragg in North Carolina. They opted to stay in military housing and she liked the small brick house they were assigned. The quality wasn't great, and she had to file a complaint about some fixtures not working and some rotting on a kitchen floorboard, but overall, she liked being surrounded by pretty trees and having seasons again.

For sixteen months, she lived a normal life with Erik. He came home nearly every night after work. She turned a spare bedroom into an office for her itinerant design firm and took time to sketch out new ideas. Vibing on old Taino culture and stilt houses, she drew wondrous homes that could withstand hurricanes and flooding. She visited Geechee lands with Erik to talk to the elders about how they dealt with coastal flooding into the marshes. Disa impressed Erik with her rendition of old Florida fishing camp houses and decorated the home office with framed copies to keep her mind working overtime with more concepts. She wrote another book about the moral responsibility of architects and city planners to be inclusive and protective of vital public spaces. Accepting speaking engagements in New York and M.I.T. kept her back in the loop of east coast happenings. Yamilet and her other friends visited often, and she took girls' trips at least once a month when Erik had to stay on base and not come home to her.

It rocked their world a bit when Tony Stark came out as Iron Man.

She watched Erik sit in their humble living room with fellow soldiers after a cookout and witness Tony on their TV. Stark opened his brazen mouth and announced to the world that he was a superhero.

Later that night, while they embraced one another in bed, Erik found it hard to believe that Tony renounced his old habits of making fortunes off of his weapons.

"Maybe he could help you with Wakanda," she whispered to him in the darkness of their bedroom. Crickets chirped outside and fluttering fireflies passed by their window.

Disa rubbed Erik's back, and he turned to face her.

"I don't need Tony's help. He's on my list, too."

She sat up.

"You plan on taking him out?"

"Gulmira had him fucked up. Guilt and tables turning on him made Tony this way. It's not altruism or an honest change of heart. Pure payback. People used his shit against him and he didn't like it. He received a taste of what he dished out for years, with no consequences. Men like him don't do good for the world because they have a sincere change of heart. They do it because they fear losing control. His money didn't protect him this time. Now he has to play John Wayne. Fuck him."

"You hate him, don't you?"

"I hate phony people who benefitted from ill-gotten gains."

"He liked you. Looked out for you."

"Tony looks out for himself. I was a means to an end for him. My intellect made him money. Dassit. Never confuse shiny white teeth for smiling. His bitch ass always had knives in his teeth and tongue with a private merc team to do his bidding when he couldn't buy his way into what he wanted."

"Baby, don't get worked up over it. I just thought he had some inroads to move you along and get you into your homeland faster."

He lifted his thumb and grazed it across her lips and then her cheek.

"I told you to let me do this my way. I don't want him anywhere near Wakanda."

Erik shoved the covers off of himself and rolled away from her. He padded out of their bedroom naked and went to her office to use their tabletop computer. She heard his fingers clacking across the keyboard with furious strikes. Settling her focus on the ceiling, she listened to him type, pause, type, and pause.

The coldness in his response bothered her.

The weeks after that exchange increased the quiet fury that lived under Erik's skin. She dreaded the day he shipped out on a mission. He couldn't tell her exactly where he was going, but he mentioned Egypt. The irony. She always wanted to go to Egypt to see the pyramids. There was a group of Black scholars that did trips that were off the beaten path, and Erik promised to see it with her one day, but now he was going to probably do some serious damage there.

Information became cryptic and so secretive that they had a fight a few weeks before he left. Disa hated the not knowing anything aspects of his ghost unit. She didn't know when he was coming back with any specificity. Just guestimates. Unlike the regular SEALs, she couldn't talk to him on breaks. She couldn't write letters. No video chats. Total blackout. Three weeks went by during his secret deployment and she stayed busy writing and working with her two-person design group. It was just herself and a young Black woman intern from her alma mater at that point. All they had was a virtual office through a website that the intern ran for her.

She suffered from fibroid issues, and her hair began to fall out. It started with a few extra strands in her hairbrush, then whole clumps fell out when she washed in the shower. A military doctor told her it was extreme stress. She tried using Jamaican black castor oil with pimentos in it to stimulate hair growth when her edges started thinning. It grew worse when Erik didn't come home during the guestimated time frame of return. Severe cramps and insomnia took over her nights and she couldn't focus on writing or growing her design clientele. After the second month of no word and frantic calls to an ombudsman on base, Disa closed down her fledgling design firm and asked Yamilet and Tatum to stay with her for a week to help her deal with Erik being gone longer than he was supposed to be.

Her girls came through bearing wonderful gifts. Chocolate cupcakes from her favorite Cambridge bakery. Romance books with fluffy storylines. Gourmet food. They kept her busy and helped her find hairstyles to hide the loss of hair. Pampered and happy to have her friends close to navigate the new life experience, it thrilled Disa to have the support and understanding. She could deal with the separation. It was the not knowing that crushed her. They kept her mind occupied elsewhere, doing fun stuff off base. Yamilet and Tatum stayed in a four-star hotel away from the military housing. Disa treated the visit like a staycation and bunked with them in a junior suite.

"This would look cute on you!" Yamilet said, holding up a snazzy little yellow top.

"Pair it with this," Tatum said, flinging a garish orange and lemon-colored head wrap across the top.

Disa plunged her hands through a discount clothing rack at a Macy's. A new outfit was what she wanted for when Erik came back. She stopped pushing hangers aside and exhaled. Her period cramps were killing her and the flow was heavy and grating on her nerves. She'd changed pads twice before they left for the department store, and she had to switch to the super long absorbent pads before she stepped out of the hotel. Her stretchy jeans sucked in all the bloating she had and all she wanted to do was find a cute little fit and get back to the hotel bar for drinks and happy hour.

Her cell buzzed with a notification from the Post Office.

"My dress is here!" she shrieked.

Yamilet and Tatum danced around the store aisle with her and she forgot about buying anything else except going to pick up her specially delivered wedding dress. The postponed wedding included postponing the dress being made, and once she was secure at Fort Bragg, she asked the designer to complete the order. Surely having it would push the fates to align the stars with her and Erik to jump the broom.

"Ooh, Disa… girl you're bleeding through your jeans," Yamilet said.

Tatum took off her sweat jacket and gave it to Disa to wrap around her waist.

"Dammit! I wanted to go get my dress and food. Ugh!" Disa groaned.

"Let's get you changed," Yamilet said, leading them all toward the exit.

Disa stuck a plastic shopping bag on the rental car seat Yamilet had and they headed to the hotel.

"I'm sorry y'all."

"Girl, don't even worry about it," Yamilet said, making a U-turn onto the highway.

They arrived at the hotel and piled into the elevator.

"Ooh," Disa groaned.

Her menstrual flow had her uterus doing flip-flops. She dashed into their suite and had thirty minutes left before the post office closed. Her heart thumped fast. The dress became a talisman. It had to be in her hands. The need to hold it and see it would solidify her connection to Erik, who was out there somewhere.

Disa unfastened her pants and nausea swept over her.

"Disa, honey…"

Yamilet reached for her but was too slow to catch her as she crashed to her knees. Pain seared through her, white-hot and blinding. She wept as her fibroid pain kept her in a chokehold.

###

Yamilet was adamant that they go to the hospital. She ignored the military choice and drove Disa to a civilian hospital in a high-income area. The bleeding took over as thick, dark red clots soaked her fresh pad she could change into at the hotel. For years she had put off surgery to treat her problem, and it was the first time she had ever been incapacitated like that. Brought to her knees. It was the stress of losing her hair feeding in on the fear of not knowing where Erik was.

Rushed into emergency, a doctor and two nurses placed her in stirrups right away. She explained her fibroid history and problems with anemia a few years back. A nurse touched her hand and asked her to relax. Disa closed her eyes and prayed for comfort through the pain.

###

Inhaling and exhaling, Disa sat on the emergency room examination table, wondering what Yamilet and Tatum were doing. A sense of grateful energy shrouded her to have them there with her. A white doctor stepped into her room with a grim expression that he tried to cover up with a limp lift of his bottom lip.

"Disa," he said, as a nurse followed behind him.

She waited for him to tell her she would finally need surgery and she braced for the news. Dr. Henson pulled a stool over to her bed and sat down.

"I already know what you're going to say," she said, folding her hands across her stomach.

Her legs were still up in stirrups, but covered with her paper gown.

"Did you know you were pregnant?" he said.

The words blindsided her.

"I…"

"The excess bleeding is from a miscarriage. When I did a pelvic exam, your cervix was dilated and I took tissue samples to test them along with your urine. I'm sorry to tell you this. I want you to stay here so I can monitor you—"

"I'm sorry… I… I don't…."

Her tongue twisted up, and her uterus squeezed again. She groaned softly. The nurse twisted a knob on a bag of fluid that hung near her bed.

"We want your body to continue passing the rest of the tissue out naturally before we consider a D & C."

Disa closed her eyes.

She wanted her mother. She wanted Erik. Instead, her abdomen grew tight with heavy cramps and squeezed a life out of her.