Pistol laughed. “You tryin’a make me gain ’bout twenty pounds, ain’t you?”
“Right. That sounds so good, Miss Maddie,” I interjected.
“Just call me Maddie, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“And what do you care about gainin’ a li’l weight, Reek? Look like you lost ten pounds since the last time I saw you,” his mother said.
“Stress,” Pistol admitted. Then he tried to make light of the situation. “I guess we should get ready to go. You comin’ wit’ us, Daisha? That’ll make it even. We can be like Bonnie and Clyde against those niggas.”
His brothers laughed. I kind of wanted to stay there and bond with his mother, but I figured that she wouldn’t need me in her way in the kitchen. Besides, I had never gone paintballing before, and it sounded like fun.
I nodded. “Uh, sure, I’ll go.”
“Can you cook, Daisha?” his mother asked out of the blue.
“Yes, ma’am. I mean Maddie.”
She smiled and nodded. “I need you to put those ten pounds back on my baby. I ain’t used to seein’ him look so frail.”
I glanced over at Pistol, and he damn sure didn’t look frail to me. He was built like a Gladiator, and I didn’t think he needed to gain ten pounds. However, his mother knew what she was used to seeing him look like, so I agreed.
“I got you, Maddie. I actually love to cook,” I said, sensing that a friendship had sparked between me and her.
Pistol grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the blanket. After that, he gave me a quick peck on the lips. Then he helped his mother up, and we all chitchatted as we headed back to the house.
“Mama’s ’bout to throw down,” Pistol told me, with a smile on his face. “I sure have missed her cookin’, but I gotta admit, you can burn too, Ma.”
“Thanks, babe.” I blushed as he pulled me closer.
“What is the world comin’ to?” Rese asked. “I ain’t never seen bruh like this.”
“I know, right?” Shaun said, chiming in. “I thought it was an icebox where that nigga’s heart’s s’posed to be.”
We all laughed as we made our way across the soft sand.
Chapter 21
Pistol
“Yo, that was so much fun,” Daisha laughed as we headed back to my car.
“Yeah, it was,” I said. Before I got behind the wheel, she gave me a look.
“Want me to drive?” Her eyes were full of concern, and I could tell that she was afraid that I would have a seizure behind the wheel.
“I told you not to act different toward me,” I whispered in her ear as I leaned over.
She looked confused as she stared up at me. “I’m not. I just asked.”
I shook my head, knowing that I was just being all sensitive and shit. That wasn’t her fault. Having feelings for her was just turning me into a little bitch.
My brothers didn’t say a word. They just climbed in the back seat and tried to lighten the mood.
“I hope Ma finished cookin’. Shit, I’m hungry,” Rese said.
Shaun spoke up next. “Me too, man. I’m tastin’ that damn roast.”
I didn’t say a word as I pulled out of the parking space and left Adventure Beach Paintball and Airsoft Park. Daisha was clearly pouting, and I wanted to apologize for getting all sensitive on her. Being a vulnerable-ass nigga was not my forte, and I’d never had to deal with a woman knowing about my seizures, since I hadn’t had one in all my adult years, until now.
Instead of pushing the issue, I decided to wait until we were alone. My mother and brothers would be leaving the next morning, and we would have to talk when they were gone. Daisha just looked straight ahead, and I kept looking over at her, hoping to get her attention. She ignored me.
Rese’s voice rang out from the back seat. “Turn that shit up.”
“Hell, yeah, nigga. That’s my shit,” Shaun said.
I turned the radio up and realized that I also liked the song that was playing.
“Who’s this nigga? I like this joint too,” Daisha said.
I smiled, knowing that we were still connected.
“Bryson Tiller,” Shaun answered. “The name of that shit is ‘Don’t.’”
Daisha continued to talk to my brothers, while I thought about our future. What the hell was going to happen once we returned to Atlanta?
*
The house was lit up with the delectable aroma of my mother’s cooking. One thing I could say about her was she could throw down in the kitchen. I’d never tasted anything like her food in my life. I’d missed my mother’s cooking just as much as I’d missed her. Now, Daisha’s cooking was good as fuck, but she didn’t have shit on Mama. I figured after a few years, she’d have the same skill level in the kitchen.
“Dinner is done!” Ma called out.
We scrambled from the living room, where we had been sitting in front of the TV for over an hour. Daisha still hadn’t said two words to me. I was sure she would have a lot to say when we were alone. All I wanted was some food. I’d taken my medicine right before we went paintballing, and I needed to eat. My stomach had been growling out of control.
We all sat at the kitchen table and served ourselves some pot roast, potatoes, carrots, and mac and cheese. My mother then brought the corn bread over to the table, and we passed the plate around. As we grubbed, Daisha carried on a conversation with everyone but me. It was probably obvious to everyone too, but nobody reacted much. My mother just kept giving me questioning looks.
“Uh, son, can we talk alone?” my mother asked while Daisha cleared the dishes from the table.
I didn’t know what she wanted to talk to me about, but I figured it was about the tension between me and Daisha. Maybe she had some motherly advice on how I should handle the situation. As I followed her outside to the patio, an uneasy feeling washed over me. Was she about to give me some bad news? Had the cancer spread? Was her condition getting worse?
“I can tell that you’re overthinking this, but it’s not about me, son. This is about you.” She cleared her throat and sat down in the one of the patio chairs.
I sat down in the chair beside her and stared out at the sparkling pool as she continued.
“Daisha told me that you got shot.”
Damn! Why the hell had she told my mother that shit? I didn’t want her to worry about me any more than she already was.
She went on. “I know everything about how you met and about her ex Rae. Now, I want you to kill him. Don’t get me wrong.”
Let me find out my mother has a gangsta side, I thought. She was from the streets, so although she held it in check, that mentality was still there.
My mom made eye contact with me, and I was surprised by the look in her eyes. “There’s a lot that you don’t know, and there’s a reason for that. As your mother, I chose to tell you what you needed to know.”
I was silent, and she kept talking.
“I’m worried about you, son. I don’t want you to end up like your father.”
“Don’t worry ’bout that, Ma. I won’t—”
She cut me off. “I know you better than you know yourself, Pistol. You love the streets, just like your father did, if not more. Tyrone was hardheaded as fuck.” She laughed. “You’re just like him. I warned Daisha. I think she can handle you, though. Don’t fuck up and push her away. I like her way better than those ratchets you usually mess with. She’s a tough cookie. Reminds me of me. Been through a lot of bullshit she didn’t deserve. She’ll be okay, though. I can tell she got something that’s rare, or you wouldn’t love her like you do. You love her, don’t you?”
I looked in my mother’s eyes and decided to tell the truth. Clearly, she already knew. “I’m in love with her, Ma.”
“You told her yet?”
“Nah. It’s too soon.”
She shook her head. “It’s never too soon. Say what you feel, before it’s too late. Tomorrow is not promised, son.”
“You okay, Ma?” I studie
d her face, hoping that she wasn’t shielding me from the truth.
“I’m good. Like I said, this is about you, not me.”
I sighed and watched her closely as she went on.
“Like I said, you’re just like Ty. He was determined not to go to prison. When I found out that he was facing all those charges, I nearly lost my mind. Drug possession, trafficking, three counts of murder … The list went on and on. He was facing life with no parole, and he couldn’t bear the thought of being in a cage. Your father wasn’t murdered, son. He killed himself. I found him in the bedroom, with a gunshot wound to the head. The Feds, the DEA, and the ATF had the house surrounded, and he wouldn’t surrender. He would rather die than spend the rest of his life in prison.”
She went on. “I know that you think the same way, Reek. Daisha told me. She doesn’t want that same fate for you, and neither do I. I’m not saying you’ll kill yourself intentionally, like he did, but you won’t seek medical attention, because you don’t want to be locked up. You could die too, Reek.” Tears fell from her eyes. “I don’t want to bury my child. You’re supposed to bury me. I already saw your father put in the ground, and I refuse to sit back and watch the same shit happen to you or your brothers.”
Damn. Her words were getting to me, and I had to fight to keep the tears at bay. Crying wasn’t some shit I normally did, but she was my mother. She had made me feel things I didn’t want to. The woman who gave me life had brought out so many emotions that I’d tried to bury. That shit was uncomfortable for me, but I had to deal with it.
It was really shocking to find out that my pops had committed suicide. When I thought about it, that shit was a selfish-ass decision. Why didn’t he think about us, his family? That shit hurt like hell. He left three young boys and a wife behind because he didn’t want to face time behind bars. Still, I could understand, because I didn’t want to go to prison, either. Not having a wife and children made my situation different in my eyes, but I realized that my mother and brothers would be just as hurt. Maybe I didn’t form attachments to others out of fear of having to detach. That explained why I’d waited so long to give my heart to a woman.
“Ma, I can’t be behind nobody’s bars. It ain’t no life for me.”
“Son, I can’t visit your grave. That ain’t no life for me.”
Damn. Why did she have to say that shit?
“So you’d rather see me behind a piece of glass, then?”
“Hell yeah. Especially if seeing you dead or going to prison are my only options. At least I’d know that you’re alive. I’ll visit you as much as I can, and I got a feeling that Daisha will too. She loves you just as much as you love her.”
I smiled all hard and shit, like we weren’t just talking about something serious. My mother wanted me to turn myself in if it came down to my life being threatened, but I just couldn’t do it. “She told you that?”
“No, but I can tell. I can see it when she looks at you.” She wiped her eyes. “I got something else to tell you.”
“Okay.” I sighed and rubbed my temples. I was getting a headache, and I wondered if it was the medicine. When I used to take it before, I’d get the worst headaches, but they would go away once the meds got in my system good.
“I know you’re in Atlanta, although you won’t tell me. Your father used to do business with this guy named Diablo Perez back in the day. He can help you. You can’t trust just anybody, but you can trust him. I wanted to tell you that before, but we couldn’t really get into it over the phone. He and your father were really close. He always said to let him know if I needed him after your father died. I just don’t know how to reach him now. I’m sure if you … dig deep enough, you’ll find him yourself. He’s the leader of a crew called the Cue Boys.”
After she said that, I didn’t hear anything else. The Cue Boys were even deeper and more ruthless than the Bankhead Mob. My pops had been connected to Diablo and the Cues Boys? Shit. I’d heard all about them from my cousins. They’d never met Diablo, but he was notorious in Atlanta.
“I heard he don’t run the Cues no more, but I’ll see what I can find out,” I told her.
My mom nodded and then gave me a hug. “Good. I don’t want you to be out there just dealing with Mike and Dank. They ain’t as smart in the streets as Diablo must be. If he’s still alive, he gotta be more resourceful than them.”
How the hell did she know that? Had Daisha told her more than my mom was telling me? I didn’t even bother to ask. I had a bone to pick with Daisha’s ass later.
“I love you, Ma, and I’m gonna do my best to make you proud of me for once. I don’t know how yet, but I’m gon’ pull it off. I promise.” My voice cracked, and I knew that all the emotions I’d held back were running to the forefront.
My mother grabbed my hand. “I’m already proud of you, son. You did what you felt you had to do for me and your brothers.”
The fucked-up shit I’d done included paying both of my brother’s tuitions at Johnson C. Smith University in Charlotte, North Carolina.
We hugged, and I held on to her tight as hell. “I love you, Ma.”
“And I love you, Reek. More than you’ll ever know.”
*
My brothers and I said our good-byes as my mother and Daisha said theirs.
“A’ight, my nigga. Stay up,” Rese said, trying to play all hard.
Shaun was a little bit sappier and shit. “Be easy. I love you, man.” We hugged for the second time. “Take care of that beautiful woman,” Shaun added.
“I will,” I told him. “Love you too, man.”
When it was time to say good-bye to my mom, that shit crushed me. I held on to her, not wanting to ever let go. It was like I was that little boy who had lost his father all over again. For some reason, I felt like I was losing her too. Maybe that was because I didn’t know if either of us would survive much longer. What if cancer killed her or I became a casualty of the streets? I had an eerie feeling that we would never see each other again.
All I could do was hold on to what she had told me. I was determined not to mess up what I had with Daisha. We had one more night there at the beach bungalow, and we needed to have a talk that wasn’t interrupted by anything, especially what was going on in the streets of the A. I thought about my father and what my mother had told me about him. Knowing that she was stressing out about what was going to happen to me had me all fucked up.
“Ma, look.” I held on to her hand. “I want you to focus on gettin’ better. I’m a man. I’ll be a’ight. I need to know that you’ll be a’ight too.” I put my hand under her chin and nudged it so that she was looking up at me. For some reason, she wouldn’t make eye contact with me, though. “What you hidin’, Ma?” My eyes were on hers.
“Nothin’.” She waved me off. “Love you, munchkin.”
Daisha laughed. “Munchkin and Punkin. Wow.”
I stared at my mother as my brothers joined in on the joke.
“Ma, really?” I said. Pretending to be pissed, I shook my head, with a frown on my face.
My mom grinned and pinched my cheeks like I was three years old. “You’ll always be my munchkin. Who’s Punkin?”
“Punkin is my childhood nickname,” Daisha said.
“Aw, that is too cute,” my mother said as my brothers made faces behind her to taunt me.
“Punk,” Rese interjected.
“Hell yeah. Nigga’s sprung than a mutha …” Shaun had looked at our mother and cut his statement short. We all knew what he had meant to say, though.
“You gon’ make me lose all my morals, li’l boy. Watch yo’ mouth.” My mom shook her head as she walked to the car.
I didn’t want to watch her leave, so after I waved good-bye, I went back inside the bungalow. Daisha stayed outside, and I wondered what else she was telling my mother. The thought infuriated me. It was like she wanted to be accepted by my mom so bad that she’d sell me out.
Daisha came back inside a few minutes later, and I figured she could sen
se my mood.
“What’s wrong wit’ you?” she asked, with a frown on her face.
“Shit. What the hell’s wrong wit’ you? You the one who’s been actin’ funny since yesterday,” I pointed out. “What’s up?”
“What you talkin’ ’bout?” The pitch of her voice told me she was exasperated.
“Do you have amnesia?”
She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “No. I remember shit just fine, nigga. I’m glad we can talk now. You’ve been actin’ like shit ain’t the same since you had that damn seizure. Why are so afraid to let me see the real you? I’m still here, Pistol. You can’t scare me away. Don’t you see that? What you think scares me away just draws me in.”
I shook my head as I sat down on the sofa. She sat down beside me. “I don’t want you to think I’m some weak-ass mu’fucka. If you think like that, how can you trust me to keep you safe?” I decided to leave out what my mother had said Daisha told her. For some reason, I didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship.
“Oh my God. Are you for real? A seizure does not make you any less strong to me. I can’t believe you think I see you that way.” She caressed my cheek. “You have shown me more strength than anybody I’ve ever known…. You saved my life.”
“And you’ve saved me just as much, if not more.”
“So, what is that supposed to mean? Are we keepin’ score now?” Her eyes shined with tears. “You’re punishing yourself, just like I do myself. We think we’re not worthy of love, so we make up every excuse not to have it. I can’t do that with you, Pistol. Don’t you get it? I love you! Okay. I’m in love with you so deep that I don’t know what to do. I’m sinkin’ like it’s quicksand. I want to fight it, but I can’t. That’s why I left after you helped me that night. I caught feelings for you too damn soon, and it fucked my head up. I thought I couldn’t do it.
“The thought of losing what we have makes me want to run away again. How can I leave you, though? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I can feel your love, baby. You don’t have to say it. You prove it with your actions. Those say more than any words a man has ever told me. Every man who’s been in my life, other than you, has told me they love me, but their actions tell a different story. You show me how you feel, and you don’t have to say it. Which proves that actions speak louder than words, but that’s just a cliché. Fuck clichés. I want something real. Fuck what you talkin’ ’bout, nigga. I’m gon’ hold you down, just like you hold me down. That don’t make you weak. That makes you a lucky-ass man, if you ask me.”
Love's Grip Page 17
