Love and a Gangsta (9 page)

Tank and Monk began dragging the body to their truck where the back was lined with plastic covering. It had to be done and I couldn’t risk it. Tank and Monk loaded the body in the back of the truck.

“Dump that bitch in Jersey somewhere,” I said frustrated that the bitch with good head game had to go.

“You sure? You don’t want me to make her disappear?”

“Nah, she deserves to be found. It wasn’t her fault she heard what she heard.”

Tank and Monk walked back to their truck, speedily backed up, and made a U-turn and drove off. I pulled out a cigarette and watched them leave. I sat in my truck for a moment, and then pulled off. I was on my way back on the Belt parkway when Greasy called me.

“Speak,” I answered.

“Yo, I talked to my boy, he’s down to link up Friday,” he informed.

“Ahight, but you meet me tonight at the usual spot.” I hung up.

I didn’t like discussing business on the phone. I made my way back to Queens and met up with Greasy at the Wine-up, a small hole-in-the-wall bar, on South Road and 150th street. I felt comfortable there.

I pulled up to the place at midnight. It was a quiet night. A few locals were out lingering around on the corners, smoking, drinking, losing themselves in whatever drugs were available. I walked inside the joint and met Greasy in a backroom where we did business.

“Greasy, what you got for me?” I greeted.

“What’s poppin’, Mega?” he replied, giving me dap.

He took a sip of his drink and then reached into his jacket and pulled out a cellophane packet.

“What Greasy got for you—you gonna love. Check it out,” he said handing me a pack.

“What the fuck is this?” I asked, taking it from him.

“That right there, Mega, is gonna make us twice as rich, ten times over. It’s called ice.” He winked.

“You mean crystal meth?”

He nodded.

“That shit right there, poppin’ off big in the mid-west and south. White folks out there are goin’ hard for that shit right there. We need to step up our game.”

I continued to stare at the packet, clear crystal. Crack had made me rich. But meth was new to me, and I was skeptical about getting in bed with something new.

“That shit is more potent than crack. It’s cheaper to produce. All we need’s a connect. I got one out in Long Island. We can be the first out here to be pushin’ this shit. Other niggas ain’t fuckin’ wit’ ice,” he continued.

“I see you did your research, Greasy,” I said, tossing the packet back at him.

“You know Greasy’s about that gwap, Mega.”

“Ahight, let me think on it. I’ll meet up wit’ your connect Friday, and feel him out. If I like what I hear, we could be in business. And if this shit doesn’t work out, it’s on you… Ya heard that right? I hate changes, but since you’re my boy, I’m gonna check it out.”

“You know Greasy ain’t never went wrong with that gwap, my nigga. You can count on that, Mega.”

I studied Greasy’s eyes. There wasn’t a hint of doubt, I nodded then gave him dap. “Ahight, I’ll see you tomorrow, ya heard me, Greasy?”

“Yessir.”

I left the room and went back to my car. I didn’t drive off right away. I always thought of crystal meth as white people’s drug. And it probably would be a risk to introduce that shit to my regulars. They were fiends anyway and fiends would try anything if it could them high long enough. If this meth was potent like Greasy say it was, then the fiends of Queens were in for a rude awakening.

We came a long way baby and just to let you
know. Our journey is not at its end...

 

 

 

My alarm went off at 6 am, and I sluggishly rolled over and cut that annoying sound off that echoed in my head. I was still tired from last night. I looked over at Omar, and he didn’t even budge. He was asleep, dead to the world.

It was Wednesday morning, my first day back to work after a week’s vacation. It was the best vacation that I ever took. My man, who was now my husband, was back in my life, and it felt so good. I couldn’t ask for anything more, all we did was spend quality time together.

I stared at Omar for a moment and smiled. Kissing him gently on his chest, I reluctantly removed myself out the bed. I strutted to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After a revitalizing twenty-minute shower, relaxing, for some strange reason, I started thinking about children. I definitely wanted some with Omar. I wanted a family. It was only right to give him children. I came out the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and saw Omar awoke.

“Gettin’ ready for work?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I sighed sitting next to him. “So, what you got plan for the day?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“Why don’t you go see how your mother is doing,” I suggested.

“Fuck that bitch!”

“She’s your mother, Omar.”

“And? That bitch ain’t never did shit for me, I don’t give a fuck about her.”

“She gave you life.”

“And that’s all she was ever good for,” he returned.

“Well, you need to do something. I don’t want you sitting around this place all day while I’m gone. You can drop me off at the train station and take my car, and maybe look for a job or something. But just do something positive today.”

“What time you gotta be at work?”

“Nine.”

“You gonna make breakfast before you leave?” he smiled.

I looked at the time and it was seven fifteen. “Of course, I’ll make some eggs, toast, and sausage.”

“That’s what’s up. And can I get a quickie before you leave.”

“Didn’t you get enough of it last night?”

“Nah, your pussy is addictive,” he said, pulling me close.

“Omar, stop. I gotta get ready for work. There’s not enough time for me to fuck you, get dressed, and then make you breakfast.”

“We can make time,” he said, with his hand reaching under my towel.

“No.”

“I need sump’n to hold me down while you’re gone.”

“Ahight, you want pussy or breakfast, you choose. You can’t have both.”

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain, baby,” he said, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh while I sat on his lap.

I wanted some dick too, but I had a job to get ready for, and I wasn’t trying to be superwoman.

“Man, fuck breakfast. I’ll make my own,” he said, pushing me on my back and unwrapping my towel. “And ooh, you smelling fresh too,” he laughed.

“See, you gonna have me going to work smelling like sex.”

“And, just tell them you got married and that your husband is a damn freak.”

“You ain’t got any sense.”

He was already naked, because Omar never sleeps with clothes on. By the time he had slowly moved into position between my thighs, I was dripping wet with anticipation and Omar slid his morning erection into me. I panted, and gripped him as he thrust.

I looked at the time and it was a quarter to eight.

“Oh yeah, baby. Hurry, yes baby,” I screamed with my legs tight around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“I’m coming.”

We made love for ten minutes before he exploded in me. After we were done, I jumped up and went back into the bathroom to wash.

At eight thirty, Omar dropped me at the LIRR. I kissed him goodbye and strutted to the train station. I was on cloud nine. I took the nearest seat available, pulled out a good book to read and exhaled as I started to read.

It was nine ten when I arrived at the Verizon office ready to work. It was a cool job with good pay and benefits. And better, the hours weren’t bad. I took a seat at my station and Monica was the first one to notice the huge smile on my face.

“You must have had a very good vacation,” she commented.

“You have no idea,” I replied.

“So tell me about him.”

Monica was in her mid thirties, and been with the company for ten years. She was divorced, had three children, and loved to talk and gossip about anything.

I looked at Monica and said, “I got married.”

“What, girl? Congratulations… When?”

“Thursday afternoon. We went down to the court house on Queens Blvd and made it official.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have taken the day off to come and be your witness,” she said.

“It was so spontaneous; we just did it, without even thinking about calling anyone. We wanted to be private.”

“I’m so happy for you. Your man come home and made you his wife right away. He loves you very much. So when are the babies coming?” she joked.

“I don’t know… The way we been doing it, I could be pregnant right now.”

“Well if you are, you better let me throw you a baby shower. I already missed your wedding, I’m not trying to miss out on the baby shower,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Girl, he must be something else, because you’re glowing right now. That man got you riding high.”

“I’m in love, Monica. I’m his wife.”

“America, you deserve the best.”

“Thank you.”

My day sped by and before I knew it, it was close to five o clock. I had promised Kendal that I’d stop by the studio after work. I was in the mood to throw some vocals down. I called the apartment, but Omar didn’t pick up. He was probably out cruising in my car. I trust that he’d stayed away from his crew and his old stomping grounds.

On my way to the A train, I called the apartment again. No answer. I sighed thinking I need to buy my husband a cell phone. Monica walked with me to the train station. She lived in Brooklyn. We got a few snacks enjoying the evening. We stood on the platform waiting for the train to arrive, when a man walked by us in a gray suit and briefcase. He glanced at me, then looked back, and stopped. He walked back and said to me, “Excuse me, but you are truly beautiful.”

I smiled. He was handsome.

“I just had to tell you,” he continued.

Monica looked at me and chuckled.

“Um, I’m really lost for words right now… Are you involved with someone? Would you be interested in going to dinner sometime?” he politely asked.

I was still smiling, enjoying his graceful attention and then casually said to him, “I’m sorry, but I’m married.”

The look on his face was priceless.

“Oh, congratulations. Your husband is a very luck man.”

“He knows it,” I said.

He nodded. “Well, here’s my card. I’m a broker, if ever you think about investing, give me a call.”

I took his card and he walked off. Monica laughed.

“Girl, you know what he meant when he said if you’re thinking about investing. He wanna invest in something alright, and it sure ain’t no stock or bonds.”

“Stop it.” I chuckled, feeling so good to tell him that I was a married woman, and I was off limits.

“America, you know what you are,” she said.

“What?”

“You’re a mobile red light.”

“What?”

“That means wherever you go, you stop the fellows dead in their walk just so they can get a good look at you.”

“Oh please, like you don’t get your fair share of attention,” I said.

“I get mine, but you got something in you that just brings too much attention. Omar is a confident man to trust you out alone, cause you know these playas are savages.”

“We trust each other,” I laughed as our train roared into the station.

I made my way down Fulton Street alone. I was in the heart of Bed-Stuy, dressed in a black long cutaway jacket and a sleeveless sheath dress with three-inch heels. It was hot, the fellas were out in swarms, and all their eyes were on me like I was from another planet. This was my first time taking the train to come see Kendal. I had always driven into Brooklyn. I hated the unwanted attention.

I crossed Fulton Street and a horn blew, some fool shouted, “You is lookin’ good, ma. What’s good? Let me holla at you for a minute.”

Ignoring his feeble pick up line, I continued to my destination. Kendal’s brownstone was on Macon Street. Kendal was so creative and experienced when it came to music that I always told him he was so underrated. His beats were on Dr. Dre, P. Diddy, or Swiss Beats level. And with my vocals, we were an ill duo. My name was definitely getting out there.

Walking down Macon Street, I saw Michael, Keith, Joe-Joe, and Tony out in front of Kendal’s talking about they could rap better than Jay Z. They were always at Kendal’s smoking, drinking, but they were garbage. Michael and Joe-Joe maybe, but the other two were garbage.

“America’s in the house,” I heard Tony yell, his little ass was always so annoying. He wanted to be a superstar, but he wasn’t.

“All y’all don’t have any jobs?” I questioned. “Every time I come around y’all always out here smoking, drinking… Doing nothing.”

“That’s what we do, workin’ for the white man is wack,” Tony said.

“Are you serious?”