A love to call my own . . .
Teedra Moses, “Rescue Me”
Gray lay half awake. A slight smile graced the corners of her lips. Months had passed since she shared the company of a man she actually liked spending time with. She’d dated guy after guy, and nothing seemed to come of it. It was always the same routine: meet a man, put up with his bullshit, and then kiss his sorry ass good-bye. Gray was so sick and tired that sick and tired were not even the words to describe how she felt.
None of the men she met lived up to her expectations. First there was White Mike. They’d met a year and half ago, when she was twenty-six. He was flyer than fly, with a buzz cut, boyish good looks, great job, and expensive cars. Slick lines were his entire conversation. Romance and companionship were what he offered, when really all he wanted was a warm pussy to slide his two-inch pink dick into.
For weeks he’d sweet-talked the pussy, promising Gray sexual pleasure. Then when the time came, all she got was a “why, God?” and a slight tingle. Mike did everything from licking and sucking to biting the pussy to make up for his lack of manhood, but nothing he did could take Gray there. In the end, all she could remember was her legs wrapped around his big back as his penis played peek-a-boo with her pussy for three minutes. Needless to say, after that fiasco, it was a wrap on White Mike.
Then there was Dion, but everyone knew him as The Home Depot Guy. He was twenty-two, tall, with big feet and benefits, but the chemistry just wasn’t there. He was too much of a square for Gray’s taste. She wanted the full package: a man with a heart of gold who could knock the pussy out.
She longed for a man who liked taking long walks on the beach, could provide her with security, and take care of her every need. Gray yearned for someone she could call her own. He didn’t have to be a gangsta or a baller. All she wanted was for him to come and rescue her from the pain that other men so selfishly left behind.
She was finished with getting her hopes up only to be disappointed. She was fed up with praying to God for a husband that seemed destined not to come. How many more nights would she have to beg for him to finally catch on? It wasn’t like she didn’t attend church, pay tithes, or believe in the Word. She’d done everything. Gray tried being patient. She asked God for discernment. She described the type of man she wanted down to a T, but what had that gotten her? Nothing but bitter nights alone.
All of her friends had men, so this left Gray with wondering what it was that she was doing wrong. Was it the vibe she put out that kept attracting “ain’t shit” niggas, or were the words sucker for love written across her forehead? Every man she met seemed to be full of shit, not on her level, or a waste of her time.
But Gunz was different. He had heartbreak written all over him, but for some reason, she just couldn’t walk away. He had a certain aura about him that intrigued her to want to know more about him. With him, she wanted to swallow her pride. She wanted her emotions to show. If he allowed her to, she would be everything he ever hoped and dreamed.
Happy that he was only a few feet away, Gray got up from her bed and headed downstairs. She was so excited to see his face, but to her dismay, he wasn’t there. He had already left. The covers she’d given him the night before were neatly folded on the sofa. There wasn’t a note or anything left behind to say good-bye.
Stupid was the only word that came to mind as Gray stood stunned. Once again she felt played. She thought about calling him, but changed her mind. Instead, she carried on with her day as if he didn’t exist.
An hour and a half later, she was at work. Gray had just walked through the doors when Kema rushed up to her.
“Seems to me like you have an admirer, girlfriend.”
“What are you talkin’ about?” Gray asked, confused, as she placed down her suede Lauren Merkin clutch.
“Read this and find out.” Kema handed Gray a small note dressed in a white envelope.
Eager to know who it was from, Gray sat down at her desk and opened up the note. It read: Have breakfast on me, Gunz.
“Have breakfast on me,” Gray repeated as she looked across the room and noticed a huge buffet table filled with food.
How she hadn’t noticed it as soon as she walked in was beyond her. There were muffins, croissants, fruit, eggs, and bacon. You name it, it was there. It was enough food to feed the entire floor, and it was all courtesy of Gunz. Gray was on cloud nine. Nobody had ever done anything so sweet for her before.
“So, who is Gunz?”
“The guy I met that night at Dolce.” Gray blushed.
“He must be one hell of a guy.”
“He is.” Her cheeks were now burning bright red.
“Damn, he got you cheesing like that? Please tell me he got a brother, ‘cause I wanna be cheesing too.”
“Shut up, Kema.”
“I’m for real, girl. So when do I get to meet this Gunz?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, we just met. Things between us aren’t even that serious yet.”
“From the looks of this spread, it seems to me like he’s serious about you.”
“We’ll see, but look, give me a second so I can call him and say thanks.”
“A’ight. While you doing that, I’ma go and get me some French toast.”
“Bring me some too.”
Once Kema was out of ear distance, Gray dug into her clutch purse and fished out her iPhone. She couldn’t wait to hear Gunz’s voice.
Five rings and no answer later, she was left with no choice but to leave a message. “Hey, Gunz, it’s me. I just wanted to say thank you for breakfast. That was so sweet. I can’t believe you did that. Hope you have a good day. Call me when you get a chance later. Bye.”
After making passionate love to Gray the night before, Gunz hopped on a private plane to the Sunshine State. He now sat back on his eighty-foot yacht, allowing the rays from the Miami sun to bless his skin. Gray’s voicemail message sang in his ear, as visions of her face danced in his mind. Holding his head back, he let out a much needed sigh. He knew that if he stuck around Gray too long, he’d continue to make promises he’d never be able to keep.
His lifestyle was too wild, too dangerous and unpredictable. He was constantly out of town. It was nothing for him to receive a phone call at the crack of dawn about a shipment that needed to be picked up. Droves of women yearned to be in the midst of his grace.
By the looks of Gray, he could tell she couldn’t keep up. He was too hood, and she was too high maintenance. Sweetness poured from her skin. She was nothing like the ghetto chicks he was used to dealing with. If he made her his girl and allowed her into his life, she’d become like all the other hustlers’ wives, insecure and needy. But none of that mattered. He and Gray could never be.
Gunz was too stuck in his ways. He was the type of nigga that stayed on the go. He answered to no one. He wasn’t the one to be questioned or quizzed. Nobody’s feelings mattered but his. That’s why he never wifed a chick; being in a relationship came with too many responsibilities. He liked Gray and wanted to keep her around, but not anyone, even Gray with her trusting eyes and winning smile, could have his heart.
“I know my nigga ain’t on the phone cakin’,” Bishop joked as Gunz closed his cell phone.
“What?” he asked, coming back to reality.
“You over there smiling and shit. Some broad got ya nose wide open.”
“Man, please. You know me. I’ll never give my heart to a woman.”
“That’s the same thing I said. Now look. Me and Keisha been married five years, wit’ three kids and one on the way.”
“Damn, nigga, do y’all ever use rubbers?”
“Hell naw. Keisha know I like to go up in mines raw. That condom bullshit be in the way.”
“Yo’ ass is nuts.” Gunz laughed, shaking his head.
“Yo, Gunz, you got a visitor,” Watts announced, peeking his head around the corner.
“Who is it?”
“Fortune.”
“Let him up.”
Fortune, one of Gunz’s soldiers from Miami, boarded Gunz’s yacht with a look of admiration written on his face. He knew Gunz was doing it, but damn! From the looks of it, he could tell the yacht had to be worth at least four million. It held four large staterooms, a galley equipped with gourmet appliances, a fully stocked kitchen, sky lounge, living area, movie theater, and pool. Gunz also had a staff of maids, bodyguards, and cooks on board. Four bad chicks dressed in bikinis lounged on the deck, sipping champagne as if it were their daily routine. This was the life, and Fortune was going to do everything in his power to have a piece of the devil’s pie.
“What’s up, Gunz?”
“How you doing?” Gunz reached out his hand for a shake.
“I’m straight.”
“You sure? I know Rich was ya man.”
“Yeah, I’m cool.” Fortune tried his best to hide the hate in his eyes. Over the years, he and Rich had become close friends. When he heard about his death, Fortune was devastated, and to sit in front of the man who ordered his best friend dead was the hardest thing he had to do in his life thus far.
“Good. That’s what’s I like to hear. As a matter of fact, let me get you a drink. Locia,” Gunz called out to one of the bathing beauties.
For a minute, Fortune lost track of why he was there as the cocoa-colored mami sauntered over. She was lethal, cute, and petite; just how he liked ’em. And her titties were more than a mouthful. Homegirl didn’t have any shame in her game. He could almost swear that she placed her small round ass in his face on purpose as she bent over and poured Gunz’s drink.
“Anything else, papi?” she asked after giving them both their glasses.
“Nah, you good, shorty.” Gunz cocked his head to the side and looked at her ass too.
Locia’s curves had Fortune in a daze. Her impeccable good looks were too much for the young solider to handle. Instead of focusing on Gunz, he was too busy watching Locia’s butt cheeks bounce as she walked away.
“You a’ight? You act like you ain’t never seen a woman before.”
“My bad, boss.” Fortune coughed, clearing his throat. “You know I been down with the crew for almost two years now, and I’m still at solider status.”
“And why is that?”
“Shit, that’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out. I’ve put in the work. Ask anybody in the crew and they’ll tell you how I get down.”
“My man,” Gunz said with a laugh. “You still ain’t tellin’ me what it is that you came here for.”
“I wanna move up in rank. I wanna become captain.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me ask you something.” Gunz mean-mugged Fortune. “What makes you think I wanna fuck wit’ you like that?”
Fortune wanted to reply, but couldn’t find the words to say. The look on Gunz’s face screamed that it was time for him to talk and for Fortune to listen.
“Fortune, I like you. You’re a good dude. I ain’t never really heard anything bad about you except for the one time you got bagged.”
“That whole thing was my fault. I know I fucked up, but I ain’t going back to jail. Straight up. The next time the county see me, it’s gon’ be in a body bag. I mean, come on, Gunz. I know you good and all, but a nigga like me tryin’ get put on. I’m hungry. I’m ready to put in work.”
“So if I do this, what I’ma get from you?”
“Anything you want. Whatever you need. I got you. That’s my word. I got you,” Fortune assured.
Gunz rubbed his chin and contemplated whether he should make that move. Fortune seemed trustworthy enough. He could see the hunger burning in his eyes. It was time to put him on.
“So you think you can handle being a captain?”
“I know I can. I know it.”
“Well, look, check this out. I dig what it is that you tryin’ to do, so I’ma put you up on game. I got this li’l airport scenario that I want you to be a part of. You wanna captain some shit, here’s your shot.
“I got these two shorties from the Dominican Republic, right? They sistas, they kinda fly . . . but I digress. They old dude, Estebon, he got the whole game on lock. That White Girl shit everybody so hyped up about, he the one supplying it.”
“Oh, word?”
“Yeah, so what we gon’ do is have ol’ girl and them smuggle the shit in the passengers’ luggage. Then once it get here, I got two luggage boys that’s gon’ transport the shit to an unsecured room and unpack the shit.”
“That’s what’s up? So what you want me to do?”
“You gon’ be my luggage bitch—I mean boy,” Gunz joked, laughing.
“Yeah, a’ight.” Fortune nodded his head with a slight smirk of embarrassment.
“Don’t take it personal. I’m just fuckin’ wit’ you.” Gunz adjusted himself in his seat so he could feel more comfortable. “So, what’s the deal? You in or you out?”
“I mean, I wanna get down, but what’s in it for me?”
“If you don’t fuck this up, you get twenty grand once the job is done, and maybe I’ll put you on as captain.”
Fortune tried to maintain a steady expression as Gunz and Bishop looked on. Twenty G’s wasn’t shit. Fortune knew all too well about guys putting in work for the bosses only to get hemmed up in the end. He needed more money and more assurance that he would be okay. Since Gunz wasn’t willing to provide him with that, Fortune decided in that moment to take matters into his own hands.
“This my last time askin’ you. Are you in or are you out?” Gunz’s upper lip curled. He detested repeating himself.
“Of course I’m in. I got you,” Fortune lied.
“Ay, Locia, come show my man the way out.”
“All right, daddy.” She got up and seductively walked toward him.
Wanting to get to know Locia better, Fortune tugged at the string of her red polka dot bikini and said, “Why don’t you g’on and let me see what’s under that two-piece?”
“Baby, please. You ain’t got enough money. Holla at me when you get your own yacht.”
“Mmm, this is sooooo good.” Gray licked her chocolate brownie ice cream cone, savoring the taste. She was in the Central West End and had just left Ben & Jerry’s. It was a glorious spring afternoon. Tree branches swayed in the wind. Couples dined outside at different restaurants throughout the strip. Gray wished she was sharing her down time with Gunz, but she hadn’t heard from him in days.
In her mind, this meant one of two things: he was with another chick, or full of shit. Whichever one it was, Gray didn’t have time. She swore not to be beat for another no-good nigga. Been there, done that. Those days were over.
Gray just hoped he wasn’t married. If he was, she’d die. She just wished she could understand him. She wanted to know where they stood. Her heart was tired of playing guessing games. With each day that passed, she grew wearier of his egotistical ways.
“What you thinking about?” her best guy friend, Truth, asked.
“Nothing,” she lied.
“Yeah, right. Something on your mind.”
“Why you say that?”
“ ’Cause I know you, Gray. When you’re deep in thought, you get quiet, and plus, you’ve been checkin’ your phone every five seconds since we been together. Don’t worry. That nigga gon’ call,” he joked.
“Shut up. You don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Mm-hmm. Anyway, let me get some of that.” He tried licking her cone.
“No. You got your own cone!” Gray blocked him by turning away.
“But yours look better than mine.”
“You better take yo’ ass back in the store and go get you one then, ’cause you ain’t gettin’ none of this.”
“Well, since I can’t have none of your ice cream, you gon’ give me some of that?” He pointed between her thighs.
“If you don’t stop.” Gray twisted up her mouth, trying her best not to smile.
She’d known Truth since high school, when they were carefree, seventeen, and in the eleventh grade. He’d wanted her from the day he laid eyes on her in the school cafeteria. Gray, on the other hand, only saw him as a friend, so for the years that followed, that’s all they would be. She and Truth told each other their deepest, darkest secrets. Many nights passed where they fell asleep on the phone, discussing their hopes and dreams.
Truth was Gray’s shoulder to lean on. He schooled her on how niggas were, how they operated, and how they got down. In return, she helped him decipher between dimes and gold diggers. Like 50 Cent and Olivia, they were best friends; but one lonely night, all that changed.
They were twenty-one and in college. Gray was between boyfriends, horny, and in need of some attention. Truth’s feelings for her were still there, lying underneath the surface of being her best friend, so she called him up. She knew that if given the opportunity, the feelings he’d hidden would arise. A phone call later, Truth was caressing her body the way he’d envisioned for years.
Two orgasms later, they lay spent on her twin-size bed. Truth wasn’t a slouch in bed by any means. His head and dick game were on point to the fullest, but Gray knew they could never be more than what they were. Truth was disappointed by the news, but dealt with her decision like a man. He didn’t want to lose Gray as a friend. Without her by his side, he felt lost in the world. Hope still sprung eternal in his heart that one day Gray would change her mind and see him for the husband he could be and not the friend he was.
“So, how is everybody doing?” she asked as they window shopped.
“Good.”
“Where is Rich? I haven’t seen him in a minute.”
“Who knows? I ain’t heard from that dude in a couple days. I’ve called him, went by his house; I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Rich is a mess. That boy ain’t gon’ never change. But that’s your li’l brother. Knowing him, he probably just got up for a minute. He’ll show up eventually, like he always does.”
“Right. I just wish he would chill out on all these li’l dope boy fantasies.”
“He still running with them dudes you was tellin’ me about?”
“Yeah, and I’m tellin’ you, them niggas ain’t nothing nice, G. It’s a whole squad of them cats all over St. Louis. I’m tellin’ you if my li’l brother don’t sit down soon, something gon’ happen to him.”
“Don’t think like that, Truth. Rich gon’ be okay,” Gray assured, rubbing his back. “How is your mother doing?”
“She good.” Truth inhaled deeply. He was happy to change the subject. “She been a little sick lately, but she’ll be a’ight.”
“I’m gon’ have to come by and see her.”
“Yeah, and she been asking about you.” He looked down at her and arched his eyebrow.
“Don’t be making me feel bad.” Gray used her elbow to poke him in the stomach. “You know how hard I been working.”
“I know. I’m just fuckin’ wit’ you.”
“You better be.” She flashed a broad grin as her cell phone began to ring.
Gray quickly checked the screen with high hopes. She wanted nothing more than for the caller to be Gunz. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. It was Kema.
“Hello?” she answered dryly.
“Eww. What’s wrong wit’ you?” Kema popped gum in her ear.
“Nothing,” Gray lied.
“Where you at? I tried callin’ your house.”
“Having ice cream wit’ Truth.”
“I told you about hanging around that psycho.”
“Kema, what do you want?” Gray ignored her comment.
“Nothing. I was just callin’ to see if you wanted to go to this Freakum Dress Party they having at 1108 Friday.”
“I don’t care. That sound cool.”
“A’ight, well, call me later.”
“Will do.”
“Bye, girl.”
“Bye,” Gray said before hanging up.
Friday couldn’t come fast enough. Hitting the club with her girl was just the thing she needed to get her mind off of Gunz.