Gunz and Roses (6 page)

Wanting to get to know Locia better, Fortune tugged at the string of her red polka dot bikini and said, “Why don't you g'on and let me see what's under that two-piece?”

“Baby, please. You ain't got enough money. Holla at me when you get your own yacht.”

 

“Mmm, this is sooooo good.” Gray licked her chocolate brownie ice cream cone, savoring the taste. She was in the Central West End and had just left Ben & Jerry's. It was a glorious spring afternoon. Tree branches swayed in the wind. Couples dined outside at different restaurants throughout the strip. Gray wished she was sharing her down time with Gunz, but she hadn't heard from him in days.

In her mind, this meant one of two things: he was with another chick, or full of shit. Whichever one it was, Gray didn't have time. She swore not to be beat for another no-good nigga. Been there, done that. Those days were over.

Gray just hoped he wasn't married. If he was, she'd die. She just wished she could understand him. She wanted to know where they stood. Her heart was tired of playing guessing games. With each day that passed, she grew wearier of his egotistical ways.

“What you thinking about?” her best guy friend, Truth, asked.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“Yeah, right. Something on your mind.”

“Why you say that?”

“ 'Cause I know you, Gray. When you're deep in thought, you get quiet, and plus, you've been checkin' your phone every five seconds since we been together. Don't worry. That nigga gon' call,” he joked.

“Shut up. You don't even know what you're talkin' about.”

“Mm-hmm. Anyway, let me get some of that.” He tried licking her cone.

“No. You got your own cone!” Gray blocked him by turning away.

“But yours look better than mine.”

“You better take yo' ass back in the store and go get you one then, 'cause you ain't gettin' none of this.”

“Well, since I can't have none of your ice cream, you gon' give me some of that?” He pointed between her thighs.

“If you don't stop.” Gray twisted up her mouth, trying her best not to smile.

She'd known Truth since high school, when they were carefree, seventeen, and in the eleventh grade. He'd wanted her from the day he laid eyes on her in the school cafeteria. Gray, on the other hand, only saw him as a friend, so for the years that followed, that's all they would be. She and Truth told each other their deepest, darkest secrets. Many nights passed where they fell asleep on the phone, discussing their hopes and dreams.

Truth was Gray's shoulder to lean on. He schooled her on how niggas were, how they operated, and how they got down. In return, she helped him decipher between dimes and gold diggers. Like 50 Cent and Olivia, they were best friends; but one lonely night, all that changed.

They were twenty-one and in college. Gray was between boyfriends, horny, and in need of some attention. Truth's feelings for her were still there, lying underneath the surface of being her best friend, so she called him up. She knew that if given the opportunity, the feelings he'd hidden would arise. A phone call later, Truth was caressing her body the way he'd envisioned for years.

Two orgasms later, they lay spent on her twin-size bed. Truth wasn't a slouch in bed by any means. His head and dick game were on point to the fullest, but Gray knew they could never be more than what they were. Truth was disappointed by the news, but dealt with her decision like a man. He didn't want to lose Gray as a friend. Without her by his side, he felt lost in the world. Hope still sprung eternal in his heart that one day Gray would change her mind and see him for the husband he could be and not the friend he was.

“So, how is everybody doing?” she asked as they window shopped.

“Good.”

“Where is Rich? I haven't seen him in a minute.”

“Who knows? I ain't heard from that dude in a couple days. I've called him, went by his house; I don't know what's going on.”

“Rich is a mess. That boy ain't gon' never change. But that's your li'l brother. Knowing him, he probably just got up for a minute. He'll show up eventually, like he always does.”

“Right. I just wish he would chill out on all these li'l dope boy fantasies.”

“He still running with them dudes you was tellin' me about?”

“Yeah, and I'm tellin' you, them niggas ain't nothing nice, G. It's a whole squad of them cats all over St. Louis. I'm tellin' you if my li'l brother don't sit down soon, something gon' happen to him.”

“Don't think like that, Truth. Rich gon' be okay,” Gray assured, rubbing his back. “How is your mother doing?”

“She good.” Truth inhaled deeply. He was happy to change the subject. “She been a little sick lately, but she'll be a'ight.”

“I'm gon' have to come by and see her.”

“Yeah, and she been asking about you.” He looked down at her and arched his eyebrow.

“Don't be making me feel bad.” Gray used her elbow to poke him in the stomach. “You know how hard I been working.”

“I know. I'm just fuckin' wit' you.”

“You better be.” She flashed a broad grin as her cell phone began to ring.

Gray quickly checked the screen with high hopes. She wanted nothing more than for the caller to be Gunz. Unfortunately, it wasn't. It was Kema.

“Hello?” she answered dryly.

“Eww. What's wrong wit' you?” Kema popped gum in her ear.

“Nothing,” Gray lied.

“Where you at? I tried callin' your house.”

“Having ice cream wit' Truth.”

“I told you about hanging around that psycho.”

“Kema, what do you want?” Gray ignored her comment.

“Nothing. I was just callin' to see if you wanted to go to this Freakum Dress Party they having at 1108 Friday.”

“I don't care. That sound cool.”

“A'ight, well, call me later.”

“Will do.”

“Bye, girl.”

“Bye,” Gray said before hanging up.

Friday couldn't come fast enough. Hitting the club with her girl was just the thing she needed to get her mind off of Gunz.

S
parkles of light from the disco ball danced across Gray's face as she did a slow wind to the beat. She was in the center of the dance floor at 1108, which was the hottest new hip-hop, R&B, and reggae club St. Louis had ever seen. There were three different levels accompanied by three different DJs. Exposed brick decorated the walls, while vintage furniture and black and white art adorned the room. The atmosphere was very spacious and rustic, but there was still a sensual appeal to it.

On the first floor, Enoch spun “I Love Them Girls” by Tank, causing every female in the spot to take to the dance floor. From left to right, everybody was droppin' it like it was hot, but none outshone Gray.

Unlike every other woman, she had something to prove. The harder the bass thumped, the more she grooved. Dressed in the skimpiest outfit she owned, Gray sauntered over to Truth and slithered her backside like a worm down his chest. She knew she was wrong for teasing him, but the intense look of desire which lay deep in his eyes told her to continue. Every dip, twirl, and pop of the hip drove him insane. The way she torqued it only made Truth want her more. Besides, he deserved to be tortured. It was supposed to be a girls' night out. Nobody invited him to come; yet and still, he insisted on tagging along.

And Kema, Gray could kick her ass too. They weren't even in the club five minutes before she spotted some nigga she knew and got lost. At first Gray didn't mind being left alone with Truth. They always had fun when they went out; that was until Truth got amnesia and morphed from her best friend to an insecure boyfriend. Gray couldn't turn left without him being up in her face. All night he'd been following her around the club like a lost dog, saying “let me get a dance” or “can I buy you a drink?”

Truth was straight up on some bug-a-boo shit. When she went to powder her nose, he stood outside the ladies' bathroom door. If a dude tried to holla, he'd flip and try to hold her hand. At one point, Gray thought she'd lost him, but when she turned around, lo and behold, who was standing behind her? Truth. Gray didn't know what to do. She wanted to pull her hair out. Truth was always very overprotective, but damn, could a chick breathe?

Why he was all up in her personal space, suffocating her lungs, she didn't know. He knew they weren't together, and by the way he was acting, they would never be. If he didn't enjoy the music and let her breathe soon, Gray was sure to grab her shit and leave. She was too grown to be babysitting some grown man's ego.

As they danced, Gray wished to the love gods up above that somehow Truth could magically transform into Gunz, but her wish didn't come true. Gunz was still nowhere to be found, and Truth was still wreaking havoc, making her night miserable.

“Okay, I need a drink,” Gray panted as she stopped dancing and placed her hand on his chest.

“I got you. What you want?”

“A Cosmopolitan, please.”

“A'ight, I'll be right back. Don't go nowhere.”

“I won't.” She faked a smile.

As soon as Truth was out of sight, Gray made her way to the other side of the club in hopes of finding Kema. On the second level of the club, Gunz and his crew stood posted up like kings. They'd ordered bottles of Ace of Spades, Moët, and Dom Pérignon. Don Lino cigars were being passed around, while women of all different persuasions exchanged “fuck faces.”

Bobbing his head to the beat, Gunz puffed on a blunt and zoned out as “The Infamous” by Mobb Deep traveled through space and into his ears. He loved living the lifestyle of the young, black, and rich. Any and everything he ever wanted was at his disposal. Money was piling in by the boatload. Everybody in his crew was eating good and living lavishly. This was the life. Gunz couldn't imagine living any other way. No matter how many times he thought about it or how hard he tried, Gunz just couldn't leave the game alone.

It needed him as much as he needed it. One couldn't exist without the other. They were each other's addictions. His presence in the streets was a must. No other hustler was getting it like he was. In the last three years, Gunz's net worth had grown to be well over fifty million dollars, and it was all because of the devil's drug of choice, cocaine. Only in America could a young black man from the hood be so rich and never have graduated high school or did something legit.

And yes, at times, being at the top felt lonely. Most of the dudes he came up with were either dead, on some jealously shit, or sworn enemies. His mother stayed in fear for his demise and constantly prayed for his safety. Gunz hated to see his mother in such a predicament, but without sacrifice, there was no gain. All of the blood, sweat, and tears he'd shed were well worth it in his eyes. He had a mansion on the outskirts of St. Louis that he'd only slept in once. He'd drunk the finest wine, shopped in the most exclusive stores, traveled the world, and fucked the baddest bitches. Still, at the end of the day, he didn't trust or have anyone but himself.

After finishing off the last of his blunt, Gunz told his boys that he'd holla and was up. With a pair of brown Tom Ford shades shielding his eyes, Gunz glided his way down the steps, where he ran into his man King. There weren't too many people besides Watts and Bishop that Gunz knew had his back, but King was one of them.

At the ripe age of thirty-five, with skin that resembled fresh coffee and a muscular body covered with tattoos that any woman would want to caress, King Lewis was that dude. Long dreads filled his head, while a smooth but trimmed and precisely lined beard decorated his face. Just like Gunz, King stayed dipped in the latest fashions, but unlike Gunz, King knew that there was more to life than clothes and expensive cars.

For years Gunz had tried to persuade King into his way of life, but King wasn't having it. King wanted nothing more than to build a family, own a couple of clubs, and stack his chips. As far as he was concerned, Gunz could have the dope game; he'd conquer the nightlife.

“My man.” Gunz smiled brightly as the two men gave each other a pound and a hug.

“What's up? I was just about to come up and holla at you. Where you heading?”

“Shit, I was just about to burn out.”

“Man please, go ahead with all that” King teased.

“C'mon now, you know I'm gettin' old.”

“Old? Nigga, I'm the one gettin' old. Yo' ass only thirty.”

“But it feel like I'm forty.” Gunz laughed. “On the real, though, you doing your thing with this club, man. This muthafucka hot.”

“That's what's up. You know, I'm tryin' to do me. Tryin' to get this muthafucka poppin', but, uh, let me walk you out. I ain't tryin' to hold you up our nothing. I know you a busy man and all,” King joked, wrapping his arm around Gunz's shoulder.

“Man, please. Get the fuck outta here.” Gunz chuckled, pushing him away.

“But for real, holla at me. I got a chocolate party coming up soon, and you know it's gon' be mad chicks up in here.”

“Right,” Gunz said, halfway listening. He had just spotted Gray out of the corner of his eye. Although her back was turned, Gunz knew that ass anywhere. He thought about just walking away as if he hadn't seen her, but the way her body looked in the dress she wore told his dick to think otherwise. Gray's physique was dangerous. It had more dips and curves than a little bit. Gunz knew that he should back away now before one of them got hurt, but since childhood, he'd loved playing with fire.

“A'ight then.” He stopped King in mid-sentence. “I'ma holla at you.”

Making his way through the crowded room, Gunz approached Gray's backside. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaned down, and placed a soft kiss on her exposed shoulder. A smile instantly formed on Gray's face. Gunz didn't have to say a word. She knew his scent anywhere. For days she'd dreamt of it.

“We gotta stop meeting like this, ma,” he whispered, lightly biting the side of her neck.

“Who said we were meeting?” Gray pulled away from his embrace and turned around.

“Yo, what I tell you about pullin' away from me?” He took her hand. “Stop doing me like that.”

“Are you serious? Gunz, please. I haven't heard from your ass in over a week.”

“I know that.” He pulled her back into his embrace. “Quit trippin' off old shit.”

“Old shit?” Gray cocked her neck back.

“I'm just sayin' everything ain't as it seems.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Don't worry about it. You coming home wit' me tonight?”

“No.”

“Why not?” He gazed deep into her eyes.

“ 'Cause.” Gray looked away, feeling overwhelmed.

“I'm right here.” He turned her face back toward him. “Why you lookin' over there? Now, why you ain't coming home wit' me?”

“ 'Cause I'm not fuckin' wit' you like that, that's why.”

“Well, guess what? I'm still fuckin' wit' you, so fuck all that bullshit you talkin'.”

“Gunz, please.”

“Gunz, please my ass. I'm coming over tonight.”

“No, you're not!” Gray laughed, trying to convince herself.

“Yeah, a'ight. C'mon, ma, quit bullshittin'. I miss you.”

Everything in Gray at that moment wanted to say kick rocks because she knew Gunz was full of shit, but the way words dripped like sweet honey from his lips had her hormones entangled. She couldn't explain it. Her mind was saying walk away, but her legs wouldn't cooperate and move. For some reason, she wanted to give him the best of her. She had to have him, no matter the cost.

“So what you gon' do if I let you come over my house?”

“I'ma put it on yo' ass if you giving it up.”

“Well, I'm not, so I guess you ain't coming over,” she countered.

“That's what your mouth say, but we'll see.”

“I bet we will.”

“Be quiet.” Gunz gently kissed her lips.

His hands were roaming all over Gray's butt and thighs. She was voluptuous and thick in all the right places. All Gunz could think about was laying her down and pinning her legs back. He needed to hear her moan, so he backed her up into a dark corner, took his hand, and placed it underneath her dress. So what if someone saw? For days he'd been missing home, and as the tips of his fingers caressed the hardness of her clit, he knew that home was right where he wanted to be.

“What are you doing?” Gray asked, becoming nervous.

“Didn't I tell you to be quiet?” He rotated harder.

In a matter of seconds, the lips of Gray's pussy were covered in cream. She knew that there was a possibility that someone could be watching, but it was a risk she was willing to take. The sensation building between her legs was too strong to deny.

“And you ain't got no panties on. That's what's up.”

“Yeah,” she spoke between moans of pleasure. “I did that just for you.”

Gray's entire body was on fire. She wanted nothing more than to ride Gunz's fingers until cum exploded onto his hand, but they were in public, so instead, she came to her senses and told him to stop.

“Nah, you don't want me to stop.” His voice was low and raspy. “Do you?”

“No, but we need to, 'cause in a minute I'ma cum.”

“But I thought you wanted me to taste it.”

“I do,” she moaned.

“So why you want me stop?” he asked with an intense look of desire in his eye. With each stroke, he could feel the folds of her pussy melting.

“I don't.” Gray's voiced cracked.

“You sure?” Gunz kissed her lips intensely as he dipped his long fingers into her wet slit.

Unable to respond, Gray placed her head onto his chest so no one could see the agony written on her face. The more Gunz explored the depth of her pussy, the more she wanted to bite his skin and scream out his name.

“Don't make me ask you again.” He pulled his fingers out and smeared sticky cream onto her clit. “You want me to stop?”

“Gunz . . .”

“You can call my name later. Right now I'm asking you a question.” He stroked faster.

“Baby.” She gripped his back.

“You cumming?”

“Yes,” Gray panted as her thighs began to shake.

“So I guess you didn't want me to stop.” He gave her his infamous crooked grin and removed his hand from underneath her dress.

“You know you wrong for that, right?”

“You liked it.”

“I know I did.”

“What's going on over here?” Kema interrupted with a drink in her hand. Gray could tell she was already tipsy.

“Where have you been? I've been looking for your ass all night,” she responded.

“Girl, you know me. I can't be standing around. I gots to enjoy the party, and anyway, excuse your rudeness. Hi, how you doing? I'm Kema.”

“My bad. Gunz, this is Kema. Kema, this is Gunz,” Gray spoke.

“What's up? So y'all partying tonight, huh?” he asked, with Gray still wrapped up in his arms.

“And you know it.” Kema danced while taking a sip of her drink. “And who is your pot'nah over there?”

“Who?” Gunz looked over his shoulder.

“Ol' boy over there with the dreads.” She pointed.

“How you know we cool?”

“'Cause I just saw y'all on the steps talkin'.”

“Oh, that's my man King.”

“Well, tell King Kema said what's up.”

“I got you. You done partying for the night?” Gunz turned his attention back to Gray.

“Yeah.”

“Good, 'cause I'm ready to go.”

“Okay, well, I guess I'll catch up with you later.” Gray air-kissed Kema good-bye.