Shy.
“You thought Shy was my girlfriend, huh?”
She looked embarrassed as she nodded her head yes, refusing to give me her eyes.
“But if you thought I had a girlfriend, why would you claim me in front of ol’ boy?”
I could tell she was frustrated as she answered, “It was a spur of the moment thing! I… I had to do something and you were just the innocent bystander. And I certainly didn’t expect you to kiss me.”
“Well you sure didn’t seem to mind that a possibly taken man was kissin’ you. Is that your thing or somethin’? Messin’ with taken men?”
She stood up, slamming her hands down on top of the desk and leaning over it to fire back, “Fuck you, Gavin… G. Griffey… whatever the hell your name is.”
I bent down, putting my own hands on the desk and meeting her in the middle to tease, “Fuck me? Damn, a nigga can’t even get a steak dinner before he’s expected to give up the dick?”
She held my gaze for a few long moments. But before I could get her to crack a smile, she fell back into her seat. “Look, I appreciate you coming to my rescue. But if you tell even one person about this, I’ll have your P.O. on speed dial.”
Now I couldn’t help but really laugh. I wasn’t sure who Reagan thought she was, but her bite size ass wasn’t scaring me one bit.
Not anymore, at least.
“You’re on a roll here, Ms. Reagan. First it’s none of my business and now you’re threatening me? You must’ve forgotten that you’re the one who needs me.”
She smacked the back of her teeth, clearly disgusted as she said, “Need you? I don’t need you for a gotdamn thing.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. You do need me; as a plus one. I mean, you can’t just show up to whatever it is that he invited you to with some random dude now that he’s seen me or you’ll really look desperate trying to make your point. And on the contrary, if you don’t show up, it may look a little suspicious to ol’ wifey Alicia. But I mean… it’s your call. I can totally just mind my own business and let you...”
She let out an annoyed growl, but came to her senses enough to cut me off. “Fine. If you be my plus one to the wedding, I won’t call your P.O.”
Wedding?
Damn, this dude is a straight savage.
I mean, I was thinking something more along the lines of a surprise birthday party; not a whole wedding.
But now that I knew the severity of the situation, I told her, “No. If I’m your plus one, you’ll never call my P.O. And you’ll let me leave early the days I have to do shows but still sign off on full credit for my time.” I certainly deserved a lot more than just a single saved call for going through with this shit.
But Reagan wasn’t making things any easier, her face twisted as she said, “I would never.”
“Oh, but you will. I mean, unless you wanna go to the wedding by yourself…”
Just the thought of it had her annoyed enough to agree. “Ugh! Fine, Gavin. But don’t you dare ask me for anything else. And you better be on time everyday from here on out.”
I smiled, falling back into my chair as I tossed out, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What? I’m just practicing, baby cakes.”
Her threatening tone was back as she started “Gavin, I will…”
But I quickly cut her off. “Alright, alright. Enough with the threats. How about you cool off for a minute while I give myself a tour of this place. Then we can discuss all the shit we were supposed to before ol’ boy came in here startin’ trouble.”
For a second she looked ready to challenge the idea. But she must’ve realized how much sense it made as she nodded and said, “Meet me back here in twenty.”
Reagan
I wanted to scream, but it wouldn’t come out over the lump in my throat.
I closed the door to my office and turned off all the lights before I plopped down on the floor, not giving a damn about my lace underwear being exposed as I perched my legs up so that I could rest my elbows on my knees.
This shit was a mess.
Between Michael... and Gavin…
I clenched just thinking his name.
Gavin was… unexpected.
I knew I had a meeting with some guy about doing community service, but I hardly expected him to be… him. The guy that I had fangirl’d all in my panties over up until the point where I was driving to work listening to his mixtape once again. But now that I knew him, and had talked to him, and had discovered how much of a loser he was to have gotten caught with weed, I was over him.
But he is sexy as hell.
I shook my head though I really should’ve been shaking my coochie for speaking out of turn. It was her that was reacting to his dominance. Even Michael - with all his stature and degrees and arrogance - was a little intimidated when Gavin stood up and staked his claim on me; staked his claim like we had been working on the moment for weeks.
Why the hell did that turn me on?
I didn’t even know this dude. But when his hand was against my waist as his tongue was exploring mine, it awakened something different, something foreign, something…
*Knock, Knock, Knock*
“Yo, Reagan? Can I come back now?” His voice boomed through the faux wood door of my office, instantly giving me goosebumps.
I shot up from the floor, fixing my dress before I flipped the light switch back on so that I could check my face for any signs of weakness in the mirror. Then I took a deep breath and pulled the door open, forcing myself to face him straight up once again.
“Yeah. Come on in.”
His smile was crooked as he ducked into my office and found his original seat on the opposite side of my desk. I took a peek outside of the door just to make sure things were still running accordingly at the center before shutting it behind us.
“Yo, those kids are crazy. Little dude already tried to play me one-on-one for my shoes and we don’t wear anywhere near the same size.”
That I had to smile at, already having a few good guesses at who he was talking about. If nothing else, my kids certainly knew how to hustle.
“Well… do you still have your shoes?”
He looked borderline offended when he answered, “Hell yeah. I wasn’t about to let that scrub beat me. He was pretty good though. Had a nice little shot on ‘em. Mad potential.”
The center definitely had a few talented athletes, but we always stressed how important it was to be good at more than just a sport. I’d watched too many people growing up rely on sports to make it out of the hood only to be destroyed when they didn’t make it past high school athletics. They were the same people that were still relying on the stories from their high school glory days to feel successful even though we were incredibly far removed. I mean, our ten-year class reunion was only a short few years away, so there should’ve been new accomplishments to replace the old ones by now.
But nope.
Same ol’ tired stories, same ol’ “remember whens”, same ol’...
“Reagan? Did you hear me?”
“Oh! Yeah… sorry. But anyway, I’m sure the kids will enjoy having you around. Even if you aren’t exactly a stand-up citizen.” Though weed was a tolerable-offense for me personally, it still wasn’t a good look for anyone to have something on their record regardless of how frivolous the crime was.
Gavin stroked the stubble on his face with a smirk as he replied, “I’m a stand-up citizen. I just happen to live in a city that still finds God’s gift to the ground illegal. Well, finds it illegal when they find it on a nigga like me.”
He cannot be serious...
“A nigga like you? I know you aren’t turning your obvious mistake into a race issue.”
He looked amused, slouching further back in his chair. “Reagan, you look like a smart woman. Got your own little office and shit, so you obviously have your shit together enough to recognize a petty police move when you see one.”
&nb
sp; Of course I knew the city’s crackdown on marijuana was a major waste of tax dollars. But the law was the law regardless of what either one of us thought about it.
“While I am thoroughly trained in the criminal justice system, I still recognize wrong as wrong. If you didn’t have weed, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”
He brushed me off, standing up to say, “Yo, whatever. Are we done here? Or are you just gonna scold me to death like I’m one of the kids?”
“Well if you didn’t behave like one of the kids, maybe I wouldn’t treat you like one.”
Damn, there’s that smile again.
“Reagan, regardless of how we’re meeting, you and I both know I’m no one’s child other than God himself.”
His eyes challenged me to say something back while also swirling around the various shades of greenish-brown they held. So I retracted - I had to retract -, but not without tossing out, “Hmph, I’m sure he’s frowning down on you as we speak.”
“Or maybe, he’s frowning down on you for sleepin’ with a taken man.”
I froze.
The fuckin’ nerve of this dude...
“Look, I don’t care about that stupid deal we made. If this is how it’s gonna be, I just won’t go to that stupid wedding.” I mean, I had already made plans of crying myself into a bucket of ice cream before I found out I was invited.
I watched as Gavin rounded the desk, invading all of my personal space with his incredible height as he said, “Oh please, Reagan. I may have just met you, but I already peep your type. You wanna know. You have to know. What kind of dress she’s wearing, what foods are being served, what song they’re gonna have their first dance to. You wanna hear the vows just so you can let the thoughts fly of how ol’ boy ain’t shit to your friends later. You may not like the way he invited you, but I can tell you’re already thinking of ways to stunt on his wife at her own damn wedding.”
I shot my eyes down to my feet, gnawing at my bottom lip as I tried to figure out a way to deny his claims. “And don’t deny it, Reagan. It’s written all over your face. The same way the victory of me kissing you in front of him was written all over your face.”
Damn, he must be a mindreading rapper.
I mean, the kiss felt good for more reasons than just sticking it to Michael. But that additional fact certainly made it even more exhilarating, though Gavin didn’t need to know all of that.
So instead of giving him some long-winded explanation, I simply told him, “Fine. Deal still stands.”
Gavin
I rapped what I had of the song I was working on one more time in the car before I went into the crib after my first little stint of community service. My time spent there was on my mind somethin’ heavy; starting with Reagan.
She went from fine as fuck, to mean as fuck, to crazy as fuck, back to mean as fuck, all while still being fine as fuck. But just like many of the girls in high positions like her, on they shit like her, doing it big to be so young like her, she had a bad attitude cause of fuck boys like Michael; the picture perfect nigga with the double life.
Damn, I could write a book about that shit.
Reagan seemed smart as hell, so I had a hard time believing she really didn’t know ol’ boy was engaged. And clearly Reagan was still the secret if Michael’s fiancé was willingly giving her an invitation to their wedding.
But how did Michael’s fiancé know Reagan without Reagan knowing about her before she hooked up with Michael?
I really shouldn’t have cared either way.
I had already gotten a kiss, a one-up on my supervisor, and what was practically a ticket to one night of free food and drinks with a fine ass woman out of it. I certainly had nothing to complain about.
But I was... bothered.
I was bothered because I still couldn’t figure out why Reagan was hiding the fact that she knew who I was. I mean, most of the staff I had engaged with at the center throughout the day knew who I was, so it hardly seemed possible for her to be out of the loop.
But maybe she was.
Maybe Little Miss Reagan was so distant from everyone else’s real world that she couldn’t possibly fathom anything beyond her four corners. Her ass had probably gotten dragged to my show against her will and only pretended to enjoy it so her friend wouldn’t call her out on her sour ass attitude. She probably…
Damn, why are you sweatin’ her so hard?
I was grateful to see Caleb in the living room posing as the perfect distraction.
“What’s good, bro? What are you workin’ on?” I asked, as I plopped down next to him on the couch.
He peeked over at me from his laptop, pulling his headphones from his ears to answer, “Same shit, different day. You feelin’ that one I sent you earlier?”
“Hell yeah. I already got a couple verses down for it. Really just need a hook.”
His eyes lit up as he said, “Maybe we should get Shy in on it. The crowd loved seeing ya’ll together like that.”
Though I knew he was right, it didn’t sit well with me that Reagan thought Shy and I were a couple from that shit. No shade to Shy, but she wasn’t at all my type. And though we could definitely pull off the whole Nelly and Kelly Rowland thing, I didn’t exactly wanna make a habit of it.
“Nah, I think I might do this one myself. Get my little Trey Songz on.”
Caleb cackled as he said, “More like Trey Wrongz. You know good and well your ass can’t sing the damn Happy Birthday song on key, let alone sing on an actual track.”
“But you can make me sound good with a little mixing and mastering, right?”
He laughed again. “I can make you not sound like a dying goat, yeah.”
I shrugged. “That’ll work. You know it doesn’t take much for people to sing-a-long to shit these days. I just need a dope beat, which we have, a catchy hook, which I’ll get, and the verses will speak for themselves.”
&
Not this shit again….
I strolled into the hospital, the workers already familiar enough with me that I didn’t have to stop and check-in at the desk. One of my mama’s nurses had called to let me know that she was refusing to eat again which meant I had to swoop in and try to talk some sense into her. Not that she listened to me half of the time anyway, but it was at least worth a try.
I knocked on the door of Room 304 softly before I peeked in and saw Mama in a peaceful sleep; almost too peaceful. Thankfully the steadily-beeping monitors told the story that she was actually sleeping as opposed to other “still” predicaments.
I walked over to the bed, stroking her forehead as I stared down on her. Even with all the tubes and IVs attached to her, she was still a beautiful woman. Her skin, though a little paler than usual, was a fair shade of caramel similar to mine. And her hair was pulled up in a high salt-and-pepper ponytail to accommodate her sleeping on her back. The only real sign of her age besides her hair were the slight bags under her eyes, though I had a feeling they were mostly a result of her being in the hospital where she couldn’t maintain the beauty regimen she had been using for my whole twenty-five years of life.
Her eyes were still closed as she spoke with a hoarse voice, “Baby, you’re gonna rub my edges raw with those rough hands of yours.”
I laughed as I replied, “Mama, I wouldn’t have to rub you at all if you were in here eating like you’re supposed to. You know the more hard-headed you are, the longer you have to stay.”
Of course she still wasn’t moved as she fired back, “Baby, I’d rather eat cardboard and toilet paper than the stuff they’re tryna feed me in here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were tryna kill me instead of keep me alive.”
“Mama, don’t talk like that. I know the food isn’t like what you’re use to, but you have to eat so you can get your strength back.”
She sighed, adjusting a little against her pillow with her eyes still closed. “You know, son. I don’t know if I want my strength back. I’ve lived a full life, produced a precious soul in
you. My work here on Earth is done.”
I took her hand, stroking it with my thumb as I told her, “Mama, quit it. I’m serious.”
She finally opened her eyes, smiling once they landed on me. “I’m serious too, baby. I’m not gonna be here forever and it doesn’t make me feel any better that you’re still… alone. I mean, who’s gonna take care of you if I don’t wake up tomorrow, or the next day, or a week from now?”
Though my mama didn’t exactly take care of me now, she was definitely a pillar in all of my accomplishments. From the beginning, it had been just me and her. And even though she often worked two jobs, and couldn’t always give me a mega-Christmas growing up, her support with each of my endeavors was unmatched. Even with my music, she was my biggest supporter though she didn’t exactly approve of what I rapped about half of the time. But she still managed to put my less than holy mouth aside just so she could show me love.
“Mama, stop. You’re not going anywhere and I’m not alone.”
There was a long pause as she used the remote to adjust the bed so that she was sitting up. Then she put on a shell of a smile to ask, “Did I hear that right? My baby has a little girlfriend now?”
Shit.
That wasn’t what I had meant at all. But now that I had her hopes up, I didn’t wanna disappoint her.
So I answered as honestly as I could, “Uh... yeah. Somethin’ like that.” I mean, if I was already Reagan’s pretend boyfriend for an actual event, surely she could be my pretend girlfriend in spirit.
“Well why haven’t I met her yet?”
Because I just did a couple days ago...
“You… haven’t been the best lately, Mama. I didn’t wanna disturb you with my nonsense.”
She brushed me off. “Oh please, Gavin. My future daughter-in-law is not nonsense. She may be responsible for carrying on the Griffin namesake one day.”
I almost choked at that one.
Daughter-in-law?
Griffin namesake?
The Real Deal Page 3
