by Mercy B
This was black girl magic at it’s finest. What other way to gather black women than at a hair salon where we all visit a time or two in our lives? It was genius. There was a self-served bar where I helped myself to some orange juice that everyone else was using for Mimosas. I found my way toward the back of the lounge and sat next to a young woman who was also expecting. She reminded me of Brielle with her pretty skin and voluptuous body.
The minute I sat down, she began chatting. “Finally, someone I can relate to. How far are you?”
“I’m near the seven-month mark. Month six doesn’t seem to want to leave me alone.” I rubbed my stomach and relaxed in my seat.
“I’m only four months in, and I’m ready to get this over and done with. I had no idea I was pregnant until it was too late for me to go lay down on someone’s table. Lord knows I had no plans of having a baby, especially not alone.”
That seemed to be going around these days. Single parenting. “Oh, the father’s not involved?” Since she offered, I asked for more details.
“No. You know how these men are. Knock you up and then go about their business. Hell, mine fled the scene before I could even tell him that I was pregnant. I haven’t heard from him or seen him since the last time he was over to my house.” She definitely reminded me of Brielle. I was a complete stranger, and she was just popping off at the mouth.
“Dang. That must be difficult.” I knew because I was facing a similar situation. Sosa had fled too.
“Yeah. Come to find out, the police were after him, so I guess I get it. But damn.”
My antennas went up immediately. It wasn’t a coincidence that both of our men had fled the city because the feds were on their asses, especially not around the same time either. Sosa had been gone for over three months, which would’ve been enough time to do his dirt. I had never suspected another woman in the picture, but she was making me reconsider.
“Wow. Well, yeah. I can understand him leaving too. You know what you’re having?”
“Yes. I found out earlier today.” She beamed. “A boy.”
“I’m having a girl. Will he be a junior?”
“Cayman is a nice name or whatever, but I’m not naming him after his dad if he isn’t in the picture. I always thought women who did that seemed a bit desperate. I was thinking something along the lines of Kato.”
“That’s still a very nice name. And you said Cayman?”
There couldn’t have been too many Caymans in Dallas. The name was very uncommon. While I was relieved that it hadn’t been Sosa she was referring to, I was puzzled by the mentioning of Cayman’s disappearance and wondered if Sosa had known anything about it. The last time I’d seen him, he was leaving Brielle’s funeral. It was a wonder why this girl reminded me so much of her. Obviously, Cayman had a type.
“Yes. You probably know him. He sticks his dick in the first available hole around.” She chuckled, turning the water bottle up and taking a sip.
“Yeah. Actually, I do know him,” I admitted. “My friend once dated him. You two remind me of each other.”
“Do we? Has she talked to his ass lately? Tell him I’m looking for him with a third wheel if she does.”
“She hasn’t.” I was a very private person, and spilling my tea was not necessary. Ole girl was doing enough of that for the both of us.
“Damn. Well, if she does, tell her to him that Lonnie is waiting for him with a special package.”
“I sure will. That is my stylist walking through the door to find me. Have a good day, girl. Don’t forget. Lonnie!” She packed up her things and walked away.
I watched behind her, letting the news she’d hit me with sink in. What was the issue with these two nut jobs? They’d both left beautiful women behind to fend for themselves and the babies that they happened to have made while still here. It was frustrating, but I promised not to dwell. I walked into the salon, feeling better about my situation and myself, so I’d continue to do just that.
My name was called shortly after my conversation. When I sat in the chair, I felt as if my entire life was about to change. Tammy, the stylist, began by questioning my reason for coming in.
“I want a change.”
“A change? I have the perfect idea. I just need you to trust me.”
“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t. I’ve been following you on Instagram for some time and love the transitional looks that you perform on others. I don’t want to give you a direction. Do your thing. I just want you to do your thing and make sure it is baby friendly. No perm. No color. I want something that is easily maintained.”
“Easily maintained. No chemicals. Done. Now, I’m going to tint these mirrors, and you will see the final product once I’m done.”
“Sounds great to me.”
Hollywood. That’s how I walked out of the salon feeling. Tammy had managed to boost my self-esteem as if that were even possible. She’d given me a very short cut with neatly tapered sides and a curly top. My natural brown was beaming, and I felt every ounce of freedom cutting it had provided me with.
Instead of going directly to my car, I ended up at the ice cream parlor that was next door. The African American couple who’d started the company were the sweetest and chose to remain employed at their own spot. It was adorable, watching them run down their startup story and introduce me to flavors I’d never heard before.
But I settled for my usual—cookies ‘n’ cream. No matter where I went, I always got the same thing. It was my go-to flavor. Before leaving, I purchased two tubs for the road. It was so damned good that I knew I’d want more later. They were only six dollars a tub, so I walked out with two.
Once I finally made it home, my legs and back were thanking me. The hours at the salon had worn baby girl and me all the way down. I took a nice, long bath and moisturized my entire body with oil before falling into a coma-like slumber.
Finally, life was good.
Chapter 9
Sosa
I stood six feet six, nearly touching the roof inside the safe that I’d buried inside of my basement. The construction on the addition to my home had cost me over $50,000, but I wasn’t complaining. The ceiling-to-floor steel cage held my life’s valuable possessions. Looking to my left, right, and then over my shoulder, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride, much like a father who’d raised his children in the admonition of the Lord, and they’d gone off to make him a proud papa.
Each bill that I’d struggled and strived to get felt like a child that I’d bore. Within the many years that I was in the game, I’d birthed millions of them—twelve and a possible to be exact. I gawked at the neatly arranged bills, ammunition, gold, and jewelry that littered the space. I’d always had a thing about banks.
For more reasons than one, I never trusted them. For that, not even one of my hard-earned dollars had been handed over to them for safekeeping. I felt that no one could better protect my fortune than I could. Besides, I’d have a lot of explaining to do when the government asked questions concerning my funds. Those were questions I’d never have the answer to.
“It’s been a long time coming.” I cracked a smile. Reaching behind my ear, I grabbed the pre-rolled gold foil and lit it with the lighter that I’d been holding in my hand. “A long motherfucking time.” I inhaled, nodding my head as I spoke.
The smoke filled my lungs as I pulled once more. Today wasn’t just any day for me. It was just as monumental as the day I’d placed my hand on my first brick. Over fifteen years of hustling had gotten me to the place I was today, standing in the midst of $12 million with a blunt to my lips.
“And a nigga wouldn’t change a thing.” I exhaled.
A few more pulls, and I started to feel the effects of the orange kush that I’d rolled just an hour prior. My eyes became heavy as I stared down at the navy-blue duffle bag that I’d brought along with me. Bending down with the blunt still hanging from my lips, I unzipped the duffle and pulled it up by the handles.
The emptiness caused it to be
light in weight, but the minute I began pulling stacks of money from my piles of cash, that changed. Stack after stack, I piled money into the huge duffle, stopping only to pull on my blunt a bit more. As I placed the stacks into the bag, I kept count in my head. I didn’t want to run the risk of giving away a penny more than I should of my hard-earned money.
“That about does it.” I finished off my blunt and threw it beside my feet.
Lifting up, I smashed the remainder of it with my size eleven Dirty Bred 13 Jordan sneakers. Turning on my heels, I shut off the lights to the safe and stepped outside of it. Reaching across my chest, I pulled the silver door closed before placing my hand on the pad beside it, locking the safe back. Once the light transformed from orange to green, I knew that I was in the clear.
Climbing the single set of stairs, I ended up on the actual basement level floor. Once my electronics and La-Z-Boy were in plain view, I reached behind me and slid the heavy door to the right. I tossed my bag onto the floor before pulling the ancient rug over the small indention that the lower basement door created. Soon after, I pulled the entertainment set back over the rug. Once all was well, I grabbed my duffle bag, along with the one that I’d placed at the basement door the previous day, and headed up to the first level of my home.
Checking my watch, I realized that I had nearly ten minutes to spare before it was go time. With that, I placed the bags at my back door before hiking up the stairs two by two. My long legs helped me to reach my bedroom much faster than the average. It only took seconds for me to lay eyes on my sleeping damsel.
Sprawled out, twisted inside of our covers, Millie slept; I couldn’t help but admire my very own sleeping beauty. It had probably taken nearly the entire night for her to find comfort, and though I hated to wake her, I felt as if I had no choice. Had I departed without a word, my beauty would quickly become a beast. To save face, I took the initiative.
Chuckling, I positioned myself at the edge of our bed, just before her. Examining Millie from top to bottom, I was tickled by her chosen stance for the night. Two fluffy pillows were placed between her legs and one under her back. The other one was underneath her long tresses. Had I been lying beside her, I would’ve been assed out, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was her comfort.
“Mi,” I called softly, acknowledging the pet name that I’d given her years prior. Reaching out, I placed my large hand on her growing belly. At six months, she was glowing in every sense of the word. I thought that she was beautiful before, but the pregnancy had given her a more somber-like beauty.
“Millie,” I leaned down and whispered in her ear.
She was usually a light sleeper, but times had been hard for her lately. With her bulging belly, it took hours for her to get comfortable enough to sleep the night away. Some nights were nearly impossible to rest. Our daughter was forever causing trouble.
However, Millie never complained a bit. She was happy in pregnancy and rolled with whatever punches our unborn child threw our way. In fact, she was fascinated by the changes her body was quickly adapting to. She was hopeful that she’d soon figure out how to rest easily. For now, she did what she could.
“Yes… baby,” Millie whined. She nearly wanted to cry. The crackling of her voice tugged at my heartstrings, ones that were solely attached to her and the being that would be birthed in a few short months.
Sleep had just overcome her, and I was waking her already. “I hate to wake you, but it’s time for me to go.” I rubbed her stomach in circular motions. The feeling was so soothing that it was coaching Millie right back into the slumber she’d been in. This wasn’t helping much in my situation.
“You hear me, Mi?” I questioned, removing my hand from her stomach.
“Yes… baby,” she repeated.
“Open your eyes.”
Utterly helpless in the situation, I was tempted to let her be. But I knew that I’d be even more heavy-hearted if she wound up disappointed in my sudden departure. I wouldn’t hear or feel the end of her wrath for weeks. As mellow as baby girl was, she had a fierce mean streak that I steered clear of at all costs, even if that meant waking her after finally finding comfort to rest.
“I can’t.” Millie groaned, a single tear falling from her right eye though she’d never opened it.
I was regretting even coming up to bother her, but I didn’t want to hear the bickering later, so I did what I thought necessary. “I ain’t mean to wake you. Rest well, love. I’m out.” I stood from the bed.
With her eyes still closed, she replied, “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” Her whimpers were like daggers through my chest.
“I understand.” Leaning back down, I kissed her forehead before kissing her lips. She was still with me. I could sense her appreciation as she puckered her lips for a second kiss. I obliged before hearing a heavy sigh emerge from her throat. It was necessary that I let her be, so I did. Lifting, again, I cleared my throat and straightened my posture.
“Come back to me,” she recited her favorite line whenever I went into the streets to handle my business.
“Where else I’m gon’ go?” I smiled. It may have been corny as shit, but it was our shit. We refused to expunge of each other’s presence without saying it.
Gazing at my wife, I knew that I was making the right decision. While the option was still on the table, I wanted to take advantage. Soon, my daughter would be born, and life as we knew it would never be the same.
“Wherever you were the last time you didn’t come back home. Please, just come back to me this time.”
“I’ll always come back,” I assured her.
“But you didn’t. I…” As I stared at her body, it began to dissolve. Even underneath me, her stomach faded with the remainder of her body. Standing from the bed, I panicked, wondering what the hell was going on. She continued attempting to tell me something as she disintegrated.
“Millie!” I yelled out. “Millie!”
She never responded. Within seconds, she’d completely dissolved, and there was nothing left of her. Not a trace.
“What the fuck? You come back!” I screamed, not knowing what else to do. “Gauge Miliani Morrison! Come back here now.” I ran down the steps and out of the door as if she could hear me.
“Millie!” Once I reached the front yard, my foot got tangled in the water hose she’d been using to water her blossoming flowers earlier in the afternoon, and I fell over onto the lawn. “I’m sorry. Come back.”
“G!” I woke, patting the bed beside me. “G!”
The same dream had haunted me for an entire year. Only this time, the dreams were cut off and didn’t include Cayman and his bullshit. These were centered around Gauge and would always end with me falling down a tunnel like that one I’d had built in my home.
Flipping on the nightlight beside the bed, I illuminated the room so that I could see clearer. With my pistol at my side, I headed for the kitchen to grab myself a bottle of water. This shit with Gauge was on my ass tough. Since I’d left her sleeping, I hadn’t gotten her off of my mind. Yes, I’d given her every dime to my name, but money came and went for me. I was already well on my way, and it had only been three months.
As much as I tried to get her off of my brain, knowing damn well I was no good for her, she kept reappearing. And I won’t even touch on the way my chest burned each night that I stared at her face on the screen of my phone. I’d captured her sleeping at least a million times before my departure.
There was a mini photoshoot featuring her and our unborn, and neither of them had a clue. She slept with her hand under her round belly, which was so fucking pretty. Everything about her, I loved. In the last three months, I’d been getting my shit together and seeking methods of controlling the anger that I had pent up inside. Gauge had done nothing to me, but I needed someone to blame for my operation going south and me having to kill my best friend.
Another reason I wanted to stay away from G was because if she ever found out about the things I’d done in the dark,
there would be no chance that we could ever be cordial in the least. I couldn’t risk that. Neither could I risk her sanity. There was just some shit that I was taking to the grave with me, but it didn’t necessarily mean that they wouldn’t come unburied.
But with each day that passed us by without communication, my urge grew stronger and stronger. I’d gotten to the point where Mexico City was causing too much friction and continued to have me deep within my feelings since I’d left her. Knowing that she had made the evidence in the case that was being built against me disappear, I returned back to the states.
Dallas was home, and for the two weeks I’d been back, I was lying low and plotting. My money was still in rotation, so I was good on that front. I discovered that G had sold the crib and everything along with it, and that was cool with me too. Baby girl could do as she felt. This was her world.
My temporary crib was overlooking the streets of downtown Dallas. I was only a block away from one of my favorite spots, at which I found myself jogging to late nights when I had the munchies. Ruth Chris would get me right each time. Their steaks were to die for.
Standing in the kitchen, I wondered what she was up to and if she’d been thinking about me as much as I’d been thinking of her. If I had to take a wild guess, I could believe that G hated me by now. I wouldn’t blame her.
The cell in the palm of my hand with her body curled up on the screen was a spot-on depiction of who Gauge was to me. She brought peace to my storm. She was the most angelic being that had ever graced my presence. Her life meant everything to me. Yet I still couldn’t understand why I couldn’t offer her the same luxuries.
My return to bed came after more thinking and a second bottle of water. I tried getting a good night’s rest, but my demons returned. Each time I closed my eyes, she appeared. I’d disappointed her—broken her heart—which was something I’d never intended on. And while I wanted to stay away, true to my word, I couldn’t.
