Love's Grip

by Nika Michelle

  After we took a shot, I filled him in. As I did, his face pretty much stayed the same. He didn’t seem to be fazed at all. I figured that was because he’d seen and done it all. None of what I told him either scared or surprised him one bit.

  “The BHM.” He shook his head. “A bunch of sloppy, unorganized ghetto-ass mu’fuckas. Bringin’ them down’ll be easy as fuck.”

  After he poured two more shots, his eyes rose up to meet mine. The wrinkles in his forehead let me know that he was contemplating something hard as hell. He held his shot glass up like we were making a toast, and then took it back. I took my shot too.

  “I gotta move fast, though. At this point, my cousin’s still alive. I just committed a murder, and I think I was seen. You get why I’m in a hurry, right?” I said as he poured shot number three for us.

  Damn. I was buzzing already. What the hell were we drinking? That shit couldn’t be no cheap shit.

  “Yeah, I see why you’re in a hurry.” He pulled out his cell phone and made a call while I sat there, looking dumbfounded.

  “Yo, Ju. What’s up, man?” He paused for a second and continued. “I need you to send a car and pick up one for me. Chop it up.” “Yeah, I’m at the club. One.”

  After he hung up, he nodded at me. “You gotta get rid of your car, just in case the neighbor did see you.”

  I agreed. “Right. Thanks.” He was on point, being that I didn’t know how to contact the dude Mike had taken me to, to get a car before.

  “No problem, young buck. Now, what do you know about where your cousin is?” Diablo intertwined his fingers together on top of the desk. His stare was intense.

  “I don’t know where he is. I didn’t get that information out of dude. Something told me to go ahead and kill him before he killed me. All I know is the BHM got him somewhere. They keepin’ him alive for a reason,” I explained. “Oh, but I do have this phone I found on the floor in his house. I can’t crack the pattern to unlock it.”

  Diablo put his hand out. “Give it to me. I got somebody who can. Maybe he can find out where they holdin’ your fam. Hopefully, he’ll still be alive when we do. If not … which is a possibility, we’ll just have to merk all them niggas.”

  Damn. I was intimidated by another human being for the first time in my life. I could tell that Diablo was very powerful, and I felt confident that he would have my back. His loyalty to my pops was evident, so I had a feeling he’d make sure shit was handled.

  I took the phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. “A’ight. Thanks, Diablo.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He pulled out a baggie of weed and a blunt. “I’m ’bout to fill you in on some of the shit I’ve been through. You know that there is no statute of limitations on your charges, so they can get you anytime. You have to take on another identity and believe it. Don’t worry. By the time I’m done wit’ you, you’ll be a pro. The Feds won’t be able to touch you.”

  He rolled the blunt up, and silence filled the room. All of a sudden, I could feel my father’s presence. It was like he was protecting me from the grave.

  For the next hour, Diablo spoke with me. I learned a lot from him in that short amount of time. At the end of our conversation, he assured me that he’d handle everything.

  “Just go home, make love to your girl and shit, and I’ll have something for you as soon as possible,” he said.

  I left his office and was led back to the front of the club, where I was shown the car that had been brought there for me. It was a simple black Nissan Altima. Of course, it wasn’t my style, but I had something to drive. Diablo had explained that it was best for me to have a car that wasn’t flashy or old school. The cops always made assumptions when they saw black men driving either. All I wanted to do was get my ass to the crib, and what I was driving didn’t matter.

  Thirty minutes later, I had my key in the front door, ready to set my eyes on the woman whom I’d fallen in love with so quickly. When I opened the door, the smell of something good cooking greeted my nostrils and led me straight to the kitchen. Daisha had no idea about what had happened at Dank and Mike’s, and I didn’t want to tell her. She had enough shit to worry about.

  “Mmm. You must’ve known a nigga would be hungry.”

  She turned around, and I wrapped her up in my arms. It was automatic for my lips to find hers, and when our tongues touched, I felt an overwhelming desire to eat her pussy right there on the counter. Then I remembered our bet. She was the one who was supposed to be giving me head. I decided to wait for her to keep up her end of the bargain.

  “So glad you’re home,” she whispered in my ear.

  When I leaned over to look in the pots on the stove, her nosy ass noticed the gash on top of my head.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, concern clear in her voice and eyes.

  “Nothing.”

  “Uh, that wasn’t there the last time I saw you, but nothing happened?” Her skepticism about my short answer was evident.

  “No.”

  She shook her head. “Did you have another seizure? Are you takin’ your medicine?”

  “No, I didn’t have a seizure, and yes, I am taking my medicine. Don’t worry.” I softly kissed her lips again. “Thank you for puttin’ me onto Diablo. I got a feelin’ shit gon’ fall into place now.”

  She turned to tend to the food. “You’re welcome, babe. Now, go get cleaned up. The food’s almost done.”

  I hurried out of the kitchen. My mouth was watering for the blackened tilapia, asparagus, and rice that she was preparing.

  As I got cleaned up, I thought about how the shit that was going on around us was a distraction, but not a hindrance. Daisha and I both felt strongly enough for one another that we were able to shut out all of that. When we were together, it was all about us. Nothing else in the world mattered.

  Chapter 25

  Daisha

  “Ohhh … mmm …” As I stared up into Pistol’s eyes, I saw something there that I’d never seen before. It wasn’t just love. It was deeper than that, but I didn’t know exactly what emotion was showing through.

  He bit his bottom lip, letting his eyes linger on mine. His hands were on my ass cheeks, and his lips were now on my neck, setting my flesh on fire.

  “Damn, Daisha …” He exhaled, and the heat from his breath sent tingles down my spine.

  When he grabbed my breasts and started to suck on my nipples, I gasped. “Shit … ,” I hissed, moving my hips with his rhythm.

  I had kept my word about our little wager and had given him some superb head right before our lovemaking session.

  “I love you, Ma. Mmm … ,” Pistol moaned as he thrust deeply, filling me up to the brim.

  It was as if I had to try to open up for that nigga, so I spread my legs wider. The sound of my juicy pussy popping was like the sexual soundtrack that Pistol needed to motivate him to work that dick.

  “I … fuckin’ love you too. Oh … Pistol. I’m ’bout to cum… .”

  “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over this dick… .”

  “Uh, yes … fuck, yes …” I wrapped my legs around his waist and really started throwing it back to his ass.

  Then, suddenly, I remembered him having that seizure, and I pulled back. My nut had disappeared too. The sweet tingling sensations that were traveling over my body had ceased. It was like the fire of passion had just fizzled out.

  Pistol stopped moving and stared down into my eyes. I was sure they’d suddenly dimmed and he could tell that something was wrong.

  “What’s up, Ma?”

  I didn’t want to say anything, so I raked my fingertips up and down his back in silence. That cut on his head had me wondering what had really happened to him. What was he not telling me? I’d noticed that he had pulled up in a totally different car. Shit, why was I thinking about all of that right now?

  “Nothing,” I told him, just like he’d told me. “Why’d you stop?”

  “’Cause one second you tellin’ me you cumin’, and you putti
n’ it down on a nigga, and then the next, you just shut down on me.” He rolled off me and pulled me into his arms. “What’s up?”

  I snuggled up close to him. “Nothing, Pistol. I swear.”

  He shook his head and propped himself up on his arm to look at me. “I don’t believe you.”

  “And I didn’t believe you earlier, when you said nothing happened to you today.”

  Letting out a sigh, he tightened his grip on me. “If I tell you what really happened, will you be honest wit’ me?”

  I nodded and waited for him to explain. He let me know all about what had happened when he went to Dank and Mike’s to check up on things. My eyes were wide with shock.

  “And you wasn’t gonna tell me that?” I punched him in the chest. “What the fuck is wrong wit’ you?”

  “Ow! Shit. I didn’t want you to be all stressed out over me. I done put you through enough… .”

  “Fuck that, Pistol. Why keep shit from me when I’m still gonna be stressed trying to figure that shit out? I was all into it at first, but then the thought of you havin’ another damn seizure, and it …”

  “Turned you off.” He finished my sentence for me, but that wasn’t what I was going to say.

  “No, it … scared me, and then my nut just … went away.”

  “Damn. I’m takin’ the medicine, baby. It’s not gonna happen again.”

  “But you don’t know that.”

  “So, you ain’t gon’ fuck me no more, ’cause I had a fuckin’ seizure?” He looked pissed off. “You didn’t have no problem suckin’ my dick. I didn’t have a seizure then, did I?”

  “Don’t get mad, Pistol. It’s not that …” Damn, I was getting frustrated. “It’s just … I … wasn’t thinkin’ about it then, and suddenly, it popped up in my head like I was having a flashback.”

  Pistol got up and walked off to the bathroom without saying a word. Damn, I felt bad as hell. He didn’t deserve to think I felt sorry for him or thought he was weak. I didn’t. He was the strongest man I knew. I was just concerned about him. There was enough shit going on to stress out the average man to the point of giving up. There was no way I wanted to endanger his life any more than it already was. We’d been having sex when he had that seizure, so I couldn’t help but associate sex with it.

  When he returned to the bedroom, he threw on a pair of boxers, some black basketball shorts, and a white T-shirt. After that, he walked toward the bedroom door like he was leaving.

  “Where you goin’?” My eyes burned with tears. I didn’t want him to feel rejected.

  “To watch TV in the front.”

  It was a relief to know that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Okay.” I sounded meek, because I really didn’t know what to say to him.

  He left the room, and I just lay there under the covers, thinking, as those tears finally fell. Was I going to go through that every single time we had sex? The thought made me sad. What kind of relationship could we have without a healthy sex life? Eventually, he was going to go out to get it elsewhere. I had to push his seizure out of my mind. There was a chance that it would never happen again. Shit, at least I hoped not.

  *

  When I woke up the next morning, I reached out to feel for Pistol, but his side of the bed was empty. I figured he’d fallen asleep on the sofa ,watching TV, so I popped up to brush my teeth. It was only eight in the morning, and I was off work today. It was a Sunday, and of course, the salon was closed on Sunday and Monday. Maybe Pistol and I could talk about the awkward moment the night before.

  After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I jumped in the shower and then got dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top. I walked into the living room and noticed that Pistol wasn’t asleep on the sofa, nor was he in the kitchen or the hall bathroom. He wasn’t there. Why didn’t he wake me up before he left? Was he that mad?

  I dialed his cell number, and after only two rings, it went to the voice mail.

  “Really? You’re mad or nah?” I said into my phone. Shaking my head, I added, “You’re really actin’ childish, Pistol. You could’ve said something to me before you left this mornin’. Call me back … please.”

  Ending the call, I had to sigh in frustration. Why were men always so damn difficult? His behavior wasn’t called for. He knew that I’d be worried about him out there, and he hadn’t even bothered to let me know that he was leaving. That shit was fucked up. Damn. Did he want some pussy so bad that he didn’t see that I wasn’t into it only because of my concern for him?

  Instead of moping and dwelling on what was going on, I decided to prepare myself a light breakfast of eggs, toast, and turkey sausage. After that, the plan was to work out. I’d noticed that my clothes seemed to be fitting a little bit tighter lately. I used to go to the gym twice a week, but of course, with all that was going on, I wasn’t keeping up with my workout routine. Damn. I couldn’t wait until things got back to being even semi-normal, so that I could get back to me.

  *

  The sound of my phone ringing more than two hours later startled me. I was hoping it was Pistol finally calling me back, but it was Megan.

  “Hello,” I answered, wondering what she could want so early in the morning.

  “Hey, Daisha. What you doin’?” she said. It sounded like she was crying.

  “Not much. What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

  “No, I’m just …” She sniffed. “Okay, yeah, I was crying, but I’m good now.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked again, because she still hadn’t answered that question.

  “It’s a long story. I got into it with my boyfriend. You know how it is.” It sounded like she was blowing her nose.

  I scrunched up my face and shook my head. “Uh yeah. I know, girl. You wanna get away and come hang out over here with me? If not, we can go somewhere. It’s kinda early on a Sunday mornin’, so I don’t know what’s …”

  “Can you come over here? I don’t really feel like driving or going anywhere.”

  I didn’t really feel like driving, either, but I figured she needed a friend. Besides, I needed to be gone when Pistol got back. He needed to see how it felt for me to wonder about where the hell he was.

  “Okay. Text me your address.”

  I headed right over to Megan’s place. She lived in a cute brownstone in Decatur. It was close to downtown, which was a nice area. I’d seen white folks jogging and walking their dogs, so it was all good. You never saw shit like that in the hood. If a person took their dog outside, it was just to shit or piss. When you saw someone running, it meant that they were getting away from the cops, they had committed a crime, or they were trying not to become the victim of one.

  When Megan opened the front door, she was looking all miserable in a white, fluffy bathrobe, with her hair all over her head. I was hoping my face didn’t show my true feelings. She was taking her relationship crisis way worse than I did. I wasn’t with all that “being all down in the dumps” bullshit. Life went on. The few times I had seen her before, she hadn’t looked anything like she did now. She was a damn makeup artist.

  Hugging me, she said, “Thank you so much for coming over, Daisha. C’mon in.”

  I walked inside, and she closed the door behind me.

  “Damn, girl. What happened? I’m being a friend, so I’m being honest. You look a hot mess,” I said.

  Megan plopped down on the sofa in her living room and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t even care right now. I’m always caring about how I look, and right now, I don’t.”

  All of a sudden, I understood how she felt. There were times when I just didn’t give a damn, either. I guessed this was one of those moments for her, so I cut her some slack.

  “I’m sorry, boo. I feel you. It be like that sometimes. For real.” I sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

  As if her butt was on fire, she suddenly jumped up from her seat. “Shit, I forgot the mimosas. I wanted a drink, so what better shit to drink this damn early?” She managed to smile a little
before she left the room.

  Shaking my head, I checked my phone to see if Pistol had called. He hadn’t. What the fuck was that nigga’s issue with me? He’d been all pressed about us dealing with each other, and now it was just that easy for him to ignore me? Or was he ignoring me? What if something had happened to him? What if the BHM had figured out that he was the one who had killed G? And if so, how?

  Megan returned with glass flutes filled with champagne and orange juice. Before I took a sip, I had to ask, “Uh, what kinda champagne is this?” Cheap champagne gave me a headache, but I didn’t want to tell her that.

  “Ace of Spades,” she simply said as she sat back down on the sofa.

  That was impressive. How could she afford such expensive champagne? Then again, she was probably lying. I mean, I didn’t think it was impossible for her to get a bottle of Ace, but maybe she was being sarcastic because I’d asked.

  Without responding, I took a sip of the drink and then placed it on the coaster she’d put on the coffee table.

  Megan looked over at me. “My sorry excuse for a boyfriend left it over here this morning. I wouldn’t spend that much money on champagne. I get paid pretty good, but not that damn good. We were supposed to have brunch with mimosas on the terrace, but he’s such an asshole.”

  I was wondering what her boyfriend did for a living, but I didn’t ask. Something told me that she would tell me everything she wanted me to know eventually. I wasn’t there to ask her questions. I was there to listen. Taking another sip of my drink, I waited for her to tell me more, and she did.

  “So, we broke up a few months ago because he’d cheated on me with this skank I was cool with. During that time, I had a weak moment and fucked my ex. How ’bout my ex took pictures of me in his bed, naked, and sent them to BJ? That’s my sorry-ass boyfriend. Mind you, that was months ago, and it only happened once. He wanted to come over here with the damn Ace, like everything was cool, only to show me the pictures and rub that shit in my face. We got into a really fucked-up argument. I put all the clothes he’d left here in the tub and bleached them. He was throwing all my shit off the balcony, talking ’bout he’ll throw me out, ’cause this is his shit. I don’t have time for it… .”