Chapter 39
Gucci
“‘I’ma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching. I’ma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching.’”
The sound of my cell phone startled me awake. “Hello!” I answered with an attitude. First, I wasn’t ready to wake up. Secondly, I didn’t recognize the phone number.
“It’s almost eleven o’clock! What you still doing asleep?” Cartier sounded like he’d been up for hours.
“What the fuck are you doing up?” I rolled my eyes.
“Money never sleeps, baby girl.” I heard him flick a lighter in the background. He was probably lighting a blunt. Cartier loved to wake and bake. “Get dressed and meet me down in the lobby in twenty minutes.”
“Boy, the only thing I’ll be doing in twenty minutes is sleeping.” I looked over at Maria, who was knocked out with a pacifier hanging off the tip of her lips. After my run-in with Mario and taking the deal with Bayani, it was imperative I move to another hotel. The only person who knew I was here was Cartier.
“Come on, I want to take you somewhere!” he pleaded.
“Cartier, you’ve been taking me somewhere every day for a week now. I appreciate all the generosity, but I’m sleepy,” I whined. He had already taken Maria and me shopping, to breakfast, lunch, dinner, and to the zoo. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but there was nowhere else for us to go.
“Girl, turn those sheets loose. You can sleep when you die! I’ll give you thirty minutes. If you ain’t down here by then, I guess I’ll just have to call the Realtor back and decline. . . .”
“Why didn’t you say you were taking me to see a house?” My ass was out of bed with the quickness. “See you in thirty.” I hung up and headed to the closet.
The small space was filled with all of the brand-new things Cartier had purchased for me this week. He told me to trash everything Mario had bought, and I did just that. It nearly broke my heart to dump everything, including my jewelry. However, I wanted to rid myself of anything that reminded me of his bitch ass.
Removing the tag from a blue pair of spandex jeans, I slid them up my bare ass. Wearing panties was for the birds! I needed my coochie to be free. Furthermore, there was nothing worse than those damn panty lines to kill an outfit. I slipped on a bra and white T-shirt and my gold necklace. It read: TRUST NO NIGGA. I pulled my Filipino weave back into a ponytail and slipped on a Detroit Tigers snapback cap.
When I went to retrieve the blue and orange Nikes from the closet, I noticed Maria was waking up. “Hey there, pretty girl.” I planted kisses on her pie face while she giggled. Her curly hair was all over the place, but it was nothing a brush and bow-bows couldn’t fix. “Let’s get you dressed, little mama.” Grabbing one of the OshKosh hangers from the closet, I put Maria in a pink onesie with a white ruffled skirt. I rubbed her down with baby lotion then slipped on her pink booties. We were almost ready to go. I just needed to grab my purse and the diaper bag and place Maria in her car seat/stroller contraption.
Buzz. Buzz. I grabbed the cell phone and read a message from Sam: What’s up? I wasn’t in the mood to text, so I called him.
“Hey, Gucci.”
“What, Sam? I’m busy!” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m trying to slide though and see what’s up between those butterscotch legs of yours.”
“Nigga, didn’t I tell you I was done fucking with you?”
“What if I ain’t done fucking with you?” His voice was more serious now.
“Is that a threat?”
“I’m not a plaything. You don’t decide when we’re done.”
He hung up on me and not a moment too soon. I was just about to hang up on him. Niggas was always catching feelings and getting the game twisted. I needed to keep him away from me, so I sent a text: It’s best you go back to work for Mario. I no longer need you on my team. After minutes without a reply, I placed the phone into my pocket, then went back to doing me.
As I pushed the stroller past the mirror, I smiled. Never had I imagined this life for myself. I was always used to living in the fast lane, but I was digging this mommy thing.
“‘I’ma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching. I’ma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching.’”
“Cartier, I’m coming.” It never occurred to me to check the caller ID.
“It’s Mario!” The tone he used signified he was pissed. He probably thought I called him by the wrong name on purpose.
“Oh.”
“That’s all you gon’ say?”
“What do you want me to say?” I smacked my lips, pushing the stroller out of the room.
“You know why the fuck I’m calling!” he snapped. “We need to meet pronto!”
“We ain’t got shit to talk about.”
“So, you just going to take the deal with the Filipino like that?”
“Straight like that.” The coldness in my tone was like a machete to Mario’s flesh.
“I don’t know what hurts more, the fact that you played me on the connect or that you stole niggas from my organization.”
“Mario, let’s not talk about what hurts, because I guarantee you’ll lose this round.” The nerve of this nigga to be acting like he was oblivious to shit he put me through.
“Fuck outta here, Gucci!” he yelled. “You are acting like I was the only one fucking around. Didn’t you fuck your man in my crib? Let’s not forget the facts, baby girl.”
“Look, I gotta go.” Hanging up in his face gave me brief satisfaction. I wanted to do some volatile shit to him, but handcuffs didn’t look good on me.
“‘I’ma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching. I’ma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching.’” I knew it was Mario again, so I turned the phone off. He was not gonna ruin my day with his bullshit.
As I stepped from the elevator, my eyes landed on the finest brown-skinned nigga on this side of Michigan. Cartier sat on the arm of the couch in the lobby talking on his cell phone. As I made my way over to him, I took in the red Cole Haan loafers, black Dickies, and a red button-down. The red and black Detroit hat put a smile on my face. I guess it’s true: great minds do think alike.
“Pimp, let me call you back. My girl just got down here.” He slid the phone into the back pocket of his pants, then stood to greet me. “What’s up, sexy?”
“Nothing much.” I smiled for no reason at all. Cartier just did that to me. There was something about his swag, his boss-like attitude, and the expensive cologne that had me wet with anticipation of our next romp in the bedroom. The man was gifted between the legs. He put it down like no lover I had ever been with.
“Can a nigga get a hug or something?” He stretched his long arms open wide, and I dove in. Cartier was a safe place for me. He was my first love and my first sexual partner. Had he not been locked up for so long, my life would’ve turned out much differently. No doubt ya girl would’ve still been a hustler’s wife, but I never would’ve met Mario or had Maria.
“So where are we going?” I quizzed.
“You’ll see.” He kneeled down to kiss Maria’s forehead. “Now come on and no more questions.”