True to the Game I

by Teri Woods

“He’s walking over here,” said Bridgette.

  “The Lord is truly among us,” said Andrea, looking at the sky happy to be near the church.

  Gena was so nervous, she wanted to turn around so bad to see exactly where he was. He stepped from behind, put his hands up to her eyes and bent into her ear.

  “Guess who,” he said.

  “I hope it’s who I want it to be,” she said pushing back against him.

  “Who do you want it to be?” he asked, with his hands still covering her eyes.

  “I want it to be Quadir.”

  Andrea and Bridgette just looked at each other in disbelief. Gena wanted to pull him over to the side and tell him how much she missed him, kiss him a thousand times, ask him why he hadn’t called, but instead she carried on real cool and casual with the conversation. “I thought you didn’t come near funerals,” she said after he let her go.

  “I don’t, but I knew you would be here.” Gena just stood there looking him up and down as if she had a serious attitude about something.

  “Come here,” he said, as he snatched her arm and pulled her over to the side. “What’s your problem?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yes, it is. You want to tell me about it?”

  “Okay. For starters you acted like you didn’t want to see me anymore when you dropped me off. You never called, and you left like it wasn’t nothing to you. Then I come home to find that my best friend had been murdered. You have no idea how I’ve been feeling. I thought we had something, but I don’t know where you’re coming from. I thought I did, but I was wrong.”

  “You got the pager number,” he said, cutting her off. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because I couldn’t find it. Besides, you said you were coming back.”

  “Baby, I was taking care of my business, that’s all. If I was fucked up and broke, you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

  “That is not true. I would too,” she said.

  “No, you wouldn’t. Don’t no woman want no broke-ass man.”

  This was true, Gena thought to herself as she cracked a smile. “Money isn’t supposed to matter.”

  “Yeah, well, tell that to those miners standing over there,” said Qua, using his head to point at Gena’s girlfriends. Gena started laughing. “Yo, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I missed you,” he said.

  “I missed you too.” Gena went to grab him, but he grabbed her and pulled her close so he could kiss her.

  The anchorwomen down the street acted like they were on CNN’s payroll. The news bulletin read: Gena got it going on. Don’t you wish it could be you! And they wanted more news. Bridgette started walking over to them and Quadir let Gena go. Gena saw Jamal turning the corner and speeding away as if the police were after him, looking right at her.

  “Hi, Quadir,” Bridgette said, in an I’m cheap—you can fuck me voice.

  “Hi,” he said looking at her. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Kim’s twin.

  “Do you know Black?” Gena asked, putting an end to the madness.

  “Yeah, that’s my man. That’s where I know you from, Black. Where’s he at?” Qua said.

  “Oh, he’s downtown,” said Bridgette, gritting her teeth at Gena.

  “Well, tell him to get at me.”

  “I will.” Turning to Gena, she asked her if she needed a ride home.

  “No, I’m okay.” She turned to Quadir, “I’m okay, right?”

  “You’re better than okay. You’re with me now. Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he led her to his jeep.

  “Anywhere you want to go, within city limits,” he replied opening the door for her.

  “I got something for you,” she said.

  “What is it?” he asked. Gena scrambled through her MCM bag, and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to him. Quadir unfolded the paper and began reading:

  Come Back

  Where did you come from?

  Where did you go? Will you come back?

  Or don’t you know? Or will you get scared and

  keep running away? Forgetting feelings

  that won’t go away?

  You can’t shake it, or fake it, these feelings inside.

  If you’d just stop running, I’d be by your side.

  Forever your lady, forever my man,

  For the rest of my life, or until the world’s end

  I’ll love you, you’ll see that you can’t hide

  And these feelings are memories

  of moments lost in time

  The sooner you realize, the better I’ll be,

  And my love will always be here, for you, from me,

  G.

  “Come here,” he said. Pulling her next to him, their lips touched as he kissed her deeply. Gena just sat there smiling. She thrived off mad affection.

  “Did you see Bridgette? Isn’t she a trip? She had no idea that I was seeing you. No one did, except for Sahirah, and then I talked to Kim.”

  Quadir just sat there, blocking Gena out for a moment. He thought of the bright side of Sahirah’s untimely death. Ra told him that Sahirah knew about Cherelle being in the Bahamas with him. He knew Sahirah was waiting to tell Gena. They should remember Sahirah as big mouth, he thought to himself as he tuned Gena back in.

  “Bridgette is really a trip. She just had to come over there and try to get in your face.”

  “I dug her. I knew that I knew her from somewhere,” said Qua.

  “You know her from Black, or you might know her from the boy Rich Green.”

  Rich Green, Qua thought to himself. He knew he didn’t like that guy. Rich Green was out to make a name for himself as a member of the Junior Mafia. He was the one who had beef with Qua’s young bucks.

  “She fucks with Rich Green too?”

  “Yeah, but that’s supposed to be on the DL.”

  “I know Rich Green. Does Black know about them?”

  “I don’t know. Tell him.”

  Qua and Gena kicked names around for a long time. It seemed that for every brother Quadir named, Gena had one of her girlfriends to match with them.

  “Do you know who Black’s woman is?” said Qua.

  “Bridgette,” said Gena, looking at him.

  “No. Her name is Pam,” Quadir retorted. “And she is set for the rest of her life. If you ask me, Black is running game on your girlfriend. She’s so busy thinking she’s being sneaky and getting over when in reality she’s getting played.” He paused. “The sad part about it is that if Bridgette isn’t careful, she will probably wind up like your girlfriend, Sahirah. That’s why you’re on probation.”

  “Why am I on probation? I haven’t done anything.”

  “I know you, Gena. I have been watching you for a long time. I heard your name before. I saw your face and trust me, baby, the two go together well.”

  “Well, what did you hear about me?”

  “I got the dirt on you. I had to dig deep. And you’re not so trustworthy, are you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You just don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gena hated when people talked about her.

  “I know at least two brothers you messed with while you were supposed to be with Jamal,” Quadir laughed.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You said your conscience was bothering you and you couldn’t see them anymore because of Jamal. You came off like a saint. That’s why you’re on probation.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not saying,”

  “That’s because you’re lying. It’s not true.” She was so fucking convincing she should have been on television. Until he said a name.

  “Dion. Remember Dion?”

  Gena just couldn’t believe the boy was coming at her with the dumb-ass shit. Damn, she thought, no one knew about that one. “That’s different. I didn’t care about him and I didn’t do a
nything with him. I never cheat,” said Gena.

  “If you didn’t care about him, then why’d you take his money?”

  “He was throwing it at me.”

  “Damn, I wish a motherfucker would just throw money at me,” said Qua, making a funny face.

  “How do you know about him?”

  “Aha! Don’t choo wanna know. I don’t think so, baby doll.”

  Gena, headstrong, refused to be caught and continued sticking to a story she thought she had sewn up. “Well, at the time Jamal wasn’t spending any time with me, but I never cheated on him,” she said, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

  “How could the man spend time with you if he was busy making money to keep you happy, meanwhile, you’re out foolin’ around?” Qua said. “You should be ashamed of yourself. That’s why you’re on probation.”

  This one was different, Gena thought. He had inquired into her past, knew shit he wasn’t supposed to, and then threatened her with probation. What exactly is probation? Does it mean no money or something? What part of the game is this? Gena just couldn’t figure him out. Most male creatures were simple as fuck. Quadir, however, was in a class all by himself. He didn’t just want to play. He wanted to win.

  During the following months, she stayed on probation. Qua played a lot of mind games. He even paid a friend of his to push up on her. The guy pulled along Gena in a candy apple red convertible Saab in the Starling Mall parking lot. He offered her dinner, then gave her some roses he already had in the backseat, which she gave right back. He talked real nice, giving her all kinds of compliments, but to no avail; Gena wouldn’t give him the time of day. Quadir really gave her a hard way at first, then he started to ease up. Things just happened like they were meant to. Gena stayed right up underneath Qua. She was even with him when he would be taking care of business. She knew it was no place for her, and so did he. They did everything together. By the time Christmas came, she was staying at the apartment where he usually entertained his women. Gena felt so at home, particularly after she burned all the evidence that indicated he had a life before she came along. Gena cooked, cleaned, even did laundry all between trips to Bloomingdales and Ann Taylor. She had a ball hurting the feelings of every female who called for him. “Bitch please, I’m his woman; you’re a fuck. He doesn’t care about you. Quadir, tell her you don’t want to fuck with her.” She would always pass him the phone, demanding her position be exposed. He would do it too. Gena had put her thing down, real hard. Her power and wiles were so strong that Quadir for once was keeping his interest. He liked coming home to her at night, and he loved her jealousy. She made such a fuss over every little thing that Qua soon realized that he would have to be a man about his extracurricular activities and keep them hidden from Gena. Quadir, being Muslim, didn’t celebrate Christmas. But, he promised that every other year they could celebrate with gifts. One day before the holiday, he hid a box in the house and made her look for it. Finally, she found in the kitchen closet—a big box with gold wrapping paper and a red bow.

  “Not my to-the-floor fur, Qua?” She kissed him before she even opened it.

  “How’d you know?” he asked.

  Gena paid him no mind, too busy now ripping at the paper. “How’d I know,” she muttered, looking as if that was the stupidest question ever asked. Gena thought she would die. It was the coat she had been requesting for months. A mink, to the floor, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life.

  Everything was going so good. The past six months had brought them close, real close. The best part of the whole relationship was that they were on the same level with each other. Though they were both the biggest flirts in the world, it was clearly understood that there was no messing around. Quadir already knew that it would be stupid of him to think that there wouldn’t be guys trying to see Gena; she looked too good. The brothers would always try their luck. Gena handled it though; she was never loose. She always maintained her composure and represented Quadir, which was a lot of representing. Qua had always been a flirt, except his flirting was different from hers.

  Three days after Christmas a baby girl was born at 4:30 PM. She weighed six pounds, and fifteen ounces. She was a beautiful baby, with locks of black hair and beautiful brown skin. Cherelle, the baby’s mother, was in the Germantown Hospital alone. She couldn’t believe that she had given birth all by herself. She had paged Quadir and told him she was in labor. He didn’t call back. Even though she wasn’t absolutely sure it was his, she played the entire nine months as if it were. She was so glad she finally knew who the father was once she saw her daughter. She hadn’t been too sure, but when she came out, Cherelle took one look at her and knew she would be called Quanda.

  Qua knew his flirting was going to get him into trouble. That was even his New Year’s resolution. No ho’s in 1989.

  Gena’s resolution was much simpler: to save money. Something she’d never been able to do. Gena spent money as if it were falling out of the sky like rain. She didn’t save one dime. It was 1989. She would be turning nineteen in March, and she didn’t even have a bank account. Jewelry, clothes, shoes, even a fur. And no bank account.

  If Qua left her today or tomorrow, if he went to jail, or if anything happened to him, she would have nothing.

  1989

  SURPRISE

  The months passed quickly. Ever since Sahirah’s funeral, Quadir and Gena stayed together and everyone knew it. He let her drive the Range Rover while he drove the BMW.

  He bought her a house in Montgomery County. It had four bedrooms, a pool in the backyard, and a huge front lawn that required landscaping. There were a total of eight chandeliers throughout the house. The vestibule, bathrooms, and kitchen were all complete with coordinating marble. The basement was Quadir’s. No women allowed, just his boys. It had a pool table, a bar, and sixty-inch-screen TV. He had a sound system throughout that could shake the entire neighborhood. The living room had eggshell carpet, off-white furniture, and contemporary marble. A large curio sat cornered against the wall where Gena had placed thousands of dollars worth of crystal. Where the furniture came from Qua didn’t care. He did care that she spent $32,000 on the room.

  The family room had butter soft navy blue leather furniture and a custom-made light-blue carpet with dark blue trim. In the middle of the far wall was a fireplace. Another big-screen TV sat catty-cornered in the family room next to a stereo system twice the size of the one in the basement. There were sliding glass doors that led out to the backyard and the pool. The kitchen had been remodeled and had everything from a dishwasher to a food processor. The dining room floor was black marble with a black mirrored dining room table that seated twelve in its center. A matching breakfront sat against beveled mirrors adjacent to a gray stone wall.

  Their bedroom had rich, dark green carpet. A huge king-size bed connected to an elaborate wall unit, which stretched across the entire wall and sat facing the door.

  The closets were filled with shoes and clothes. Gena and Quadir had so many clothes, neither rarely wore the same thing twice.

  There were two extra rooms. One Gena made into an office, complete with a maple desk, computer, and fireproof file cabinets. In front of the desk sat two bone colored leather chairs. She had a bookshelf the size of the wall built for the room and went out to bookstores and purchased hundreds of books to occupy the shelves.

  The other bedroom was really like a storage area, even though it was actually a guest room. Though the family rarely visited, Gah Git called every day.

  Quadir stayed gone, as if he was lost and just couldn’t find the house. Gena didn’t understand it. He would stay out all night, usually not returning home until the wee hours of the morning.

  Even though he was never there, he wasn’t going anywhere either. She felt secure, and she felt happy. But Gena unknowingly had allowed herself to be isolated. Quadir had conveniently and successfully excused it as a safety precaution. None of her girlfriends was allowed in the house. That was fir
st and foremost. Only a few family members had visited. Not only did Gena believe this was right, but also she protected her home and protected Quadir by all means. She never took anyone there. No one except family was to have their home number. She could only be paged. Traveling in certain parts of the city, even talking to certain individuals was a no-no. And, for the love of money, it was a small price to pay. It was nothing. She had no worries, but she was left alone.

  One rainy day, Quadir stayed in. It was a treat to have him home. The two cuddled on the sofa with a blanket and popcorn and watched daytime TV. That’s when a commercial came on. The “make each day count” speech, and “why waste another moment?” grabbed her. She turned to Quadir and asked if she could go to college, really wanting to.

  “What do you want to study?” he asked.

  “You know, I hadn’t thought about it. But I like the idea of business management, and it would give me something to do, Quadir. You’re not here a lot, and there’s nothing left in the malls. I have everything,” she said throwing her hands out in the air, really wondering what he expected her to do. Quadir was excited for her. He wished he had it in him to go to college with her.

  “Maybe I’ll go too.”

  “For real, I can go? You’re going to come, Quadir,” she said moving over to him, hugging his neck, and giving him kisses in a circle motion over his face.

  “Well, I can’t do it now. But, when things lighten up, I’m going back. I always wanted to be a dentist,” he said trying to get her off his neck.

  “I want you to be a dentist, Quadir. I think you would be a great dentist. I really do.” She said it meaning every word, and he knew she knew what she was talking about.

  “I love you, Gena.”

  “I love you back, Quadir.”

  With that Gena started college two months later, and was doing quite well. She occupied most of her days in classes and her nights studying.

  Hearing the BMW in the driveway, she peered out the bedroom window to see Quadir pull into the double door garage. She flew down the stairs and met him as he walked in the door.