“For the first time in my life, somebody scares me,” I told her honestly as I stared into her pretty eyes.
“What?” She looked taken aback. “Who?”
“You.” I grabbed her and kissed her again.
She smiled. “How do I scare you?”
“You got me feelin’ shit I ain’t never felt. I don’t know how to feel about that shit, but I’m gon’ let it happen.” I kissed the tip of her nose.
“You sound confused to me. You sure it ain’t the sex talkin’?” she teased.
“Sit down while I fix your plate. And no, it ain’t the sex. I done had plenty good pussy before. Don’t get it twisted. Like I told you, I’m interested past the pussy, and that’s what’s scary to me.”
Daisha sat down at the table. “I’m scared too.” She let out a sigh and continued. “I didn’t want to go from one relationship to the next. To be honest, though, I can’t even call what I had wit’ Rae a relationship. And it’s been over for a while.”
“Well, regardless of what’s goin’ on outside of what we doin’, I ain’t lettin’ you get away again. That’s for damn sure,” I replied.
Neither of us said a word as I fixed our plates. I put her plate in front of her, I placed mine on the table and sat, and she said grace before we dug in. The fact that she always blessed her food said a lot about her. I’d never seen any woman do that other than my mom. She would love Daisha. I knew it.
Daisha’s voice suddenly cut through my thoughts. “There’s so much that I don’t know about you, Pistol. Like your real name, for starters.”
“My real name is Tyreek Gordon.”
She giggled. “Pistol suits you better.”
“I agree.”
“Are you from North Carolina? I mean, I heard you mention that that’s where your family is.”
“Yeah, that’s where I’m from.”
She shoveled food in her mouth before she continued with her questions. For some reason, I didn’t mind this inquiry. If we were going to pursue something, she needed to know the truth. After what we’d been through so far, there was no way the fact that I was on the run would make her turn her back on me.
With a nod, she asked, “So, how long you been in Georgia?”
“Six months …”
“Damn. Only six months and that bitch was actin’ like that?” A sly smile spread across her pretty, thick lips. “You did put it down last night. I ain’t even gon’ lie. I kinda see why that ho was actin’ like that.”
I was feeling myself as I smiled, but I had to give credit where it was due. “Shit. You know you got that comeback, Ma. You got a damn gold mine between yo’ thighs. If I was a shiesty-ass nigga, I’d pimp you out.”
“You’re silly.” She giggled.
“I’m glad you know that was a joke. Ain’t no way I’d let another nigga even think about gettin’ that. That’s all mine now. Just know that shit, shawty. I don’t play ’bout mine.”
She looked up at me. “Oh, I wasn’t plannin’ on lettin’ another nigga get this. It ain’t ’cause you said so, though … shawty.”
We both laughed, but then I got serious.
“Look, baby girl. Like I said before, I’m a straight-up nigga. I need to tell you something. You need to know exactly who you fuckin’ wit’.”
When she put her fork down and gave me her undivided attention, I told her all about the fact that I was wanted by the Feds. Not once did her facial expression change.
“Damn.” She shook her head, and her eyes misted over. “I don’t care ’bout that, though. I mean, as long as you stay outta trouble …” Suddenly her voice trailed off as she thought about it. “I guess that’s impossible.”
“Right,” I agreed with a sarcastic laugh.
“Shit. Just don’t get caught. You ever thought about leavin’ the United States and goin’ somewhere where they can’t extradite you? Like Cuba. They hate this mu’fucka. Castro’ll be ready to defend you.”
I glanced at her and shook my head. “You ain’t like no other chick I ever met. I always thought about goin’ somewhere and just givin’ up my life here. That’s hard to do, though, since I’m so close to my moms.”
“Take her wit’ you.”
“It ain’t that easy. She … she’s sick. She was diagnosed with cervical cancer over a year ago. That’s why I robbed those banks and shit. She needed surgery, and being that it was a preexisting condition, her insurance didn’t cover that shit. I did what I had to do to make sure my mom could live, yo. She got the surgery two months ago, but she still gotta get the chemo and radiation and shit. Until they say she’s cancer free, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You feel me?” I almost choked up, but I held it together.
Daisha’s warm hand was on top of mine, and her eyes were on me. “I can tell that you really love your mom, Pistol.” Tears filled her eyes and then spilled down her cheeks. “Makes me wanna make shit right wit’ mine.”
“I think you should.”
“She don’t deserve it.” She shook her head as she squeezed my hand. Then she suddenly let go and continued to eat her food.
“She’s your mother. She gave you life. What could she have possibly done to make you resent her so much?”
After she filled me in, all I could do was say, “Oh, damn. That’s fucked up, Ma.”
“Tell me about it.” She stood up and grabbed both of our plates. “And that’s only half of it.”
I watched her as she rinsed our dishes off and put them in the dishwasher. Before she could sit back down, I grabbed her by the waist and sat her on my lap.
“You smell really good.” I nuzzled her hair.
“Thanks. Must be that shampoo I use. It has argan oil in it.”
I had no idea what that was, but that didn’t keep me from inhaling the scent of her hair over and over again. What I was feeling was so new, and it actually felt good. Then reality set in. Both of us had separate issues that could keep us apart. There was nothing that I wouldn’t do to ensure that we ended up together. Even if it meant leaving the country. There was no way I was going to let them lock me up for over twenty years. Hell nah. They’d have to kill my black ass first.
“What you thinkin’ ’bout?” She rubbed the top of my head as she asked.
“Us …”
“What about us?”
“This shit happened so fast, Ma. I mean, don’t get me wrong. The shit feels good, but damn … our timing is all wrong.”
“I understand how you feel about the timing, but we don’t have control over what the heart wants. We can either indulge or decide to leave it alone. I hope you choose to indulge, because I don’t give a damn about timing anymore. This is our time, Pistol. Together, there’s no tellin’ what we can do.”
Let me find out that I’d snagged my ride-or-die, I thought. When I’d heard folks talking about having a soul mate, I had thought that shit was ridiculous. Now that I had connected with Daisha, I could kind of see what they meant. It was like we were opposite ends of a magnet. We just seemed to pull one another in.
“I didn’t wanna bring it up now, Ma, but first thing’s first. I need to know where that nigga Rae be at.”
“I heard from Kevia that he’s fuckin’ with his baby mama again. Her name’s Capri.”
“Hmm.” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “You know where she live at?”
“Of course I do. Me and Kevia used to fuck wit’ her back when I first got wit’ Rae. She wanted to come to my job and harass me, so I had to go to her house and harass her ass. I don’t play them scary-ass games. Don’t no bitch put fear in my heart.” I could tell that she meant that shit.
“And from this day forward, as long as you got me in your life, no man will put fear in your heart, either. I’ll always protect you. Just know that,” I told her.
Daisha looked down at me with so much gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you.” Leaning over, she kissed me sweetly. “I know you’re not used to this, but I’ll always protect you too. In any way I can.”
“You proved that you got my back, shawty. Now I just gotta handle that nigga, so we can at least get him out of the way.”
She nodded as she held on to me. Her head rested on top of mine. “Yup, but that’ll be only one obstacle out of the way.”
Her words resonated with me. She was right. Getting him would rid us of just one obstacle. We had many more to surmount if we wanted to be a real couple. The only thing was, would we both survive, and even if we did, would I still have my freedom? The prospect of prison loomed over me like a dark cloud. I would find the woman for me when I was threatened with years behind bars. Oh well. That was the story of my life. The hand I’d been dealt wasn’t the best one, but I was going to stay in the game. As a matter of fact, I was going to ride that shit till the wheels fell off. Shit, what the fuck did I have to lose?
*
“I gotta make a few runs, baby girl. I’ll be back.” It was about three o’clock in the afternoon, and I needed to handle some shit.
Daisha looked up from the repeat episode of Black Ink Crew that she was so into. I hated that reality TV bullshit, but I wasn’t tripping. It was good to see her enjoying herself. The smile she’d been wearing all day was infectious.
“Okay, but you ain’t going after Rae right now, are you? I kinda wanna enjoy … us first.” There was a disappointed look on her face.
“Nah, I ain’t no reckless-ass nigga. That shit’s goin’ be planned out right. I don’t want no fuckups or mistakes. That’s why I’m gon’ do it myself. I ain’t even involvin’ my cousins. They act like they scared of that fuck nigga, anyway.”
It made my head hurt just thinking about how sloppily we’d handled G’s murder. Honestly, I must’ve been caught up in the heat of the moment. The thought of that nigga molesting my little cousin had made me go about shit irrationally. It wasn’t like me not to think shit out and make sure nobody was left to seek revenge or snitch.
“I don’t really think it’s that they’re scared of Rae. It’s the fact that G was the head nigga, and his niggas gon’ be ready for blood now that he’s dead. I think they’re more afraid of the Bankhead Mob.”
“The Bankhead Mob?” Damn, I’d heard of them before. “G ran that shit?”
Daisha nodded. “Your cousins didn’t tell you that?”
“Hell nah.” Those niggas were the most infamous, ruthless crew in Atlanta, other than the Cue Boys.
“I guess they left that bit of information out for a reason.”
The wheels in my head really started turning then. I had a bone to pick with my cousins. It had been clear to me that G had a crew, but I hadn’t thought he was on the top tier of the Bankhead Mob. Now I knew why Mike and Dank were so nervous. Had my cousin fabricated the story of his daughter being molested by G? What if the motive behind G’s murder was something else?
Shit. It wasn’t like me, but deep down inside, I felt like that shit could wait. Daisha had done something to me that no other woman had been able to do, and she had become my priority.
*
When I got back to the house, it was a little after six o’clock. That was perfect timing for what I planned to do. Our reservation was for nine o’clock, so we had plenty of time. I wasn’t one to plan a romantic evening, but I knew that Daisha probably hadn’t been spoiled in a while, if ever. After popping the trunk open, I jumped out of my ride and grabbed the bags inside the trunk.
There were over ten bags, and they were full of designer clothes, shoes, and bags for Daisha. She hadn’t asked for anything, and I knew that she wasn’t high maintenance. One thing I was sure of, though, was the fact that every woman out there liked to look good. Even if Daisha wasn’t feeling the best on the inside, at least I could help enhance the outside. Then, when she’d look in the mirror, she’d be a little bit less insecure.
When I walked inside the house, I could smell the aroma of something good cooking. Damn, let me find out that she could burn too. My stomach was surely one way to my heart, because I loved to eat. Now that I thought about it, I’d never eaten a woman’s food other than my mother’s. Well, with the exception of when I went out. The chicks I normally fucked with didn’t cook. I followed the smell to the kitchen, and Daisha was standing over the stove, stirring up something in a pot.
“Hey, good lookin’. What you got cookin’?” I asked playfully as I walked up on her. Damn, her ass looked so good in those tights she was wearing. I pinched it softly, and she giggled hysterically.
“I’m cookin’ oxtails, rice, and cabbage.”
“Smells good, Ma. For real. But it kinda cuts into the plans I had for us later.”
She turned, wearing a curious look on her face. “What plans?”
Right on cue, the doorbell rang, and I smiled down at her cute ass before kissing her cheek. “Looks like I should’ve called you first, huh?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Who is at the door?”
“Uh, you relax. I’ll go see.”
“My nerves are bad as hell, Pistol. What’s goin’ on?”
I laughed. “Nothing, Ma. Chill. I’ll be back.”
She shook her head and went back to cooking.
When I returned to the kitchen, I had this chick named Megan in tow. She was a professional makeup artist. I had met her at Lenox Square, in the mall’s MAC store. I had wanted to get Daisha some makeup to cover her scars, but I’d had no clue what to buy. That was when I’d asked a random makeup artist if she made house calls, and she’d told me that she did. Then I’d found out that she was about to get off work, which was perfect.
“Daisha, this is Megan. She’s a MAC makeup artist. I, uh, hired her to do your makeup because I made dinner reservations for us tonight. Not that you need it, but I know that you’re a woman who cares about her appearance. After what you’ve been through, I just want you to feel good about yourself.”
There was a huge smile on Daisha’s face. “Thanks. Wow. Dinner … I guess we can eat this tomorrow.”
I grinned. “Of course. Now, I’ll tend to the food while you get dolled up.”
She left the kitchen and led Megan to the dining-room table. I’d already lugged the bags of clothes, shoes, and purses upstairs, to surprise her with later. For the first time ever, I had planned a date and was looking forward to it. This was not just meeting up with some chick to fuck, but a real damn date. Shit. What the hell had Daisha done to a nigga? Whatever it was, I was damn sure feeling that shit. Straight up.
Chapter 11
Daisha
That chick Megan was actually cool. We were the same age, and so we decided to exchange numbers. It was a breath of fresh air to meet a chick who was positive and ambitious. I think I needed that influence. Once she was done with my makeup, she passed me a handheld mirror.
Shit, I almost cried. My face was finally beat in a good way. “You did that,” was all I could say. But, damn, I couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t even look like Rae had ever put his hands on me. If only this makeup job would last.
Pistol came in the room just then and took a look at me. “Well, damn, Megan. You the shit for real, yo. Let me buy everything you used on her. For real.”
I gave him the side eye. “What you tryin’a say, nigga?”
He chuckled. “I’m just sayin’ she did the damn thang, Ma. That’s all. You know you’re gorgeous with or without that shit.”
I’d filled Megan in on what had happened to my face, so she wasn’t looking at Pistol all sideways. “Well, everything I used on her, including the brushes, comes up to about three fifty,” she said.
Three hundred fifty dollars, I said to myself.
Pistol just reached in his pocket and pulled out four hundred-dollar bills. “Thanks again
, Megan.”
I was stunned as he walked her to the door and then joined me in the dining room.
“Okay, it’s almost seven o’ clock, and our reservation is at nine. I put the food up, so all I need you to do is get dressed,” he announced.
There was a cute little pout on my face as I pointed out a known fact. “I don’t have anything to wear for a fancy dinner date, Pistol. All my clothes are—”
“Did I say anything about you havin’ something to wear?” he asked, interrupting me. He shook his head. “You’re definitely used to fuckin’ with bum-ass niggas. I got you covered, Ma. Follow me.”
My heart leapt in my chest as he led me to the bedroom. When I first saw the numerous bags on the bed, I was ecstatic. Then that feeling was replaced by something else. I’d never been the type of woman who worshipped material things or expected a man to buy them for me. All I had ever wanted from a man was love, loyalty, and for him to help me out with my bills. My smile faded, and Pistol could tell that something was wrong.
“Why don’t you take a look in the bags?” he said.
“Uh, I expected one outfit for tonight. Not a shopping spree.”
His face was contorted from confusion, and his hazel eyes suddenly dimmed. “What … ? I thought you’d be happy.”
“I’m not unhappy. I mean, you just spent four hundred on my makeup. Are you tryin’a buy me? If so, you don’t have to do that.”
I didn’t want him to think I wanted him to do things like that for me. I’d be fine with him simply being there for me, like he’d been so far. Shit, that money could’ve gone toward rent at another spot. He just didn’t know that my priorities weren’t like those of most chicks my age. I wasn’t into spending money on unnecessary shit.
Pistol shook his head. “No, I ain’t tryin’a buy you… .”
“Is all of this out of pity, then? Do you feel sorry for me?”
Love's Grip Page 8
