Gunz and Roses (8 page)

Everything he loved had been snatched away in the blink of an eye. And yes, his mother constantly reminded him that if he didn't live his life according to God's Word that he would be punished, but what was the point of caring and doing right? Nothing in his life was as it should be. His father was God knows where, and his sister was dead. All he had left was a traumatized heart and a resentful memory.

Gunz stepped out of his car and walked up the sidewalk leading to his mother's row house. He hated the fact that she still lived there. Too much bad stuff had happened in that house, but his mother was determined to stay. Refusing to accept any of her son's drug money, she worked hard as a school teacher to pay off the mortgage. The house was hers, the only piece of property she owned outright.

Vivian was proud of her investment. Back in the late seventies when she and Joseph purchased it, the house was only $90,000. Now, because of the recent interest in the area and proper upkeep, it was worth $250,000.

Gunz knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” his mother asked.

“Me! Who else it's gon' be?” he responded as she opened the door.

“You coulda been my man.” Vivian hugged her son.

“Ma, don't play wit' me.”

“Who said I was playin'?”

Gunz shook his mother's comment off. In his mind, his mother had no business dating. Besides, he couldn't fathom the thought of some man being around “his” mama. He couldn't front, though. Vivian still had it going on for her age. A head full of smooth black hair hung past her shoulders. Her skin was an immaculate shade of copper, while her eyes were almond-shaped and brown. Her smile was the most exquisite thing about her. Vivian had the type of smile that with one glimpse, she captured your heart.

“Anyway, what you doing, and better yet, why don't I smell nothing good to eat?”

“'Cause I didn't cook anything good to eat. You better call one of them li'l hot-tail girls you fool wit' and tell them to cook you something 'cause my days of slaving in the kitchen for you are over.”

“You see how you do me? Ya only son.”

“Boy, hush and hand me my gloves.” She pointed toward the kitchen counter.

“What you about to do?”

“Go work in my garden. You wanna help?”

“I'm good.”

Gunz went into the refrigerator and grabbed a soda.

“I ain't never seen a lazier man in my life.” Vivian shook her head as she placed on her gloves.

“Mama, please. You must ain't seen me without my shirt on.”

“And I don't want to either. I have seen enough of ya li'l scrawny body to last me a lifetime,” she joked, opening the back door. Gunz followed.

“Damn, Mama, you got it lookin' like the Botanical Gardens back here.”

“Quit all that damn cursing.”

“My bad.” He looked around in awe.

The entire backyard had been transformed into something even Martha Stewart would have been proud of. A huge white picket fence closed off the area. Surrounding it were pink, yellow, and red roses. A table for two with an umbrella sat near the back on top of a red brick pathway.

Gunz's mother got down on her hands and knees and began pulling up weeds. “You know I talked to your grandmother the other day.”

“Word? How Granny doing?” Gunz took a seat. “I've been meaning to go by there and go see her.”

“She's doing okay. She says her chest been hurting.”

“I'ma go by there tomorrow.”

“Your daddy's been staying over there too lately.”

Gunz's jaw tightened at the mention of his father. At the age of ten, he wrote him off as a deadbeat junkie. He hadn't seen nor talked to him in years, and Gunz liked it that way. Fuck him. He didn't have a father. The streets raised him.

“Your granny says he's been clean now for almost a year.”

“Good for him.”

“I talked to him for a while. He said that he would like to see you.”

“Next time you talk to him, tell that nigga he twenty years too late.”

“Gavin, that's not right. He's tryin'.”

“Tryin'?” Gunz scrunched up his face. “Don't tell me you gettin' high too. That nigga ain't did shit for me or you. When Adriana died, that muthafucka couldn't even come to the funeral.”

“Now wait just a goddamn minute!” Vivian rose up and looked at him. “I am not one of them sorry-ass Negros you got hustlin' that poison for you! I am your mother! You will respect me, and if you can't, then you know what you can do.” She pointed to the door.

Gunz sat quietly and collected himself.

“Yo, I ain't tryin' to disrespect you, Ma . . . but if you wanna forgive and forget, then that's on you. Me,”—he placed his hand on his chest—“I ain't got nothing for him. That nigga been dead to me.”

“Gavin, I know you're hurt, but you gotta let all that stuff go. Life is too short to be holding on to a whole bunch of negative stuff. You can't live like that. It will tear you apart.”

Gunz knew what his mother was saying was right, but wasn't it plain to see that he had a mountain load of pain that would always remain in him? No one could save him from his own misery. He was stuck there like time in space. Since as far back as he could remember, he'd been alone, and Gunz liked it that way. He wasn't willing to allow anyone, especially his father, into his life knowing there was a possibility he could be hurt again.

 

The green lights on the dashboard of the cab flashed 12
AM
as Gray pulled up to the club. The environment was live, as party hopefuls stood awaiting their turn to get inside. Eager to see Gunz, she checked her hair and makeup, which was flawless, then hit the driver with a twenty dollar bill and stepped out. From the looks she was getting as she approached the door, Gray knew she was the shit.

That night she wore her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. The makeup on her face consisted of bronzer and nude lip gloss. On her body she rocked a copper Donna Karan jersey wrap dress. The plunging neckline accentuated her full, shimmering breasts, while a pair of Gucci corset-style 5-inch heels highlighted her firm calves.

Unlike the last time she was at 1108, the décor was completely different. The entire club was filled with bouquets of red roses, streaming twinkling lights, chocolate fountains, fondue sets, and fruit. Up in the booth, DJ Needles made sure to remind everyone that the drink special for the night was chocolate martinis. The music, as always, was on point. Atlanta native Keri Hilson's smash hit “Turnin' Me On” was playing, hyping up the crowd.

Gray thought she would have to call Gunz and let him know she was there, but to her surprise, he was standing right up front. A slight smile crept onto the corners of her lips as she stood and watched him from afar. He looked simply divine in a brown vest. A cream-colored handkerchief peeked from the breast pocket. Underneath he wore a cream-colored V-neck T-shirt. On his lower half he rocked a pair of distressed Diesel jeans and Cre8tive Recreation high top sneakers. As always, his signature aviator shades covered his eyes, while small diamond studs gleamed from his ears.

Gray was just about to approach him when she noticed a petite woman dressed in a purple spandex dress walk over and get his attention. Gunz seemed to be excited by seeing her because the infamous crooked grin he normally gave to Gray exploded onto his face. Disturbed by this, she stood and watched. The entire time he talked to the woman, Gunz never removed his hand from around her waist.
What the fuck is that shit about
? she thought.

Feeling someone staring, Gunz looked over his shoulder and spotted Gray looking sexier than ever. Happy that she came, he left the woman's side and stepped to her.

“I thought you said you wasn't coming.” He kissed her cheek.

“I wasn't,” she replied sarcastically, unsure of how she should feel after what she saw.

“A'ight, Gray, whateva. Anyway, you want something to drink?”

“Nah, I'm good.” She turned her face and looked away, mad. “It seems like you've drank enough for the both of us.” She could smell liquor on his breath.

“Why you lookin' over?” Gunz followed her gaze and saw her staring at another guy. Heated, he cupped her chin and turned her face back toward him. “You see something you like?”

“Don't play wit' me.”

“Then what's your problem?” Gunz could tell she had an attitude. “'Cause I'ma be honest wit' you. I ain't for that sarcastic shit tonight.”

“I said I'm good.”

“You sure? 'Cause I don't wanna have to fuck you up,” he joked.

“Yeah, a'ight. Picture that.”

Changing the subject, Gunz took her by the hand and said, “C'mon. Let me introduce you to my peoples.”

By that time, the woman had already walked away.

“These are my homeboys, Watts, Bishop, and King.”

“Hi,” Gray spoke to everyone.

“What's up?” The three men responded.

“So, you're King?”

“Yeah.”

“Did Gunz ever tell you that my homegirl wanted to holla at you?”

“Nah. Nigga, you cock-blockin'?”

“Man, don't even play me like that. You know how fucked up my mind is.” Gunz finished off his third drink.

“How she look?” King asked, intrigued.

“Don't worry. She's a winner.”

“That's all I needed to hear.”

“Oh, so that's how you gon' do me, Gray?” Watts joked.

“What?” She giggled.

“I mean, I know you wit' my man and all, but c'mon, yo. Don't front. I peeped you checking me out.”

Gray could only laugh. Watts wasn't a bad-looking guy, but he wasn't the most attractive man she'd ever seen either. His height and weight were the equivalent to Snoop Dogg's, but his looks resembled J.J. from
Good Times
.

“Yo, Gunz, you better watch her. Your girl got her eye on me,” Watts teased, posing in a B-boy stance.

“Wow!” Gray cracked up.

“Man, fuck what he talkin' about. Take down my number so your girl can call me,” King interjected.

“Hold up. Let me get my phone out my purse.”

“Yo, go ahead and handle that. I'll be right back.” Gunz kissed her cheek before disappearing in the crowd.

Gray didn't realize until King and Bishop walked away and her feet began to hurt that Gunz hadn't come back. She didn't know what time he'd left, but she was pretty sure that twenty minutes came and went since she last saw him. It was bad enough that they barely talked and that when she walked in she spotted him with another girl. To leave her unattended at a party that he invited her to was downright rude.

“I don't know where my homey went.” Watts pretended to scan the club.

“Me either. He said he'd be right back.” Gray sighed.

“That's how my nigga is, though. You can never keep track of him.”

“Right,” she agreed.

“But yo, you cool? You need anything?” he questioned, concerned.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Look, let me go find this boy.”

“You sure? 'Cause I can go look for him for you.”

“Nah, I got it. Thanks,” Gray yelled over her shoulder.

Halfway through the club, she caught up to Gunz. He and his crew were chilling in the V.I.P section, sipping on bottles of Nuvo. Gunz acted as if he didn't have a care in the world. He had a new drink in his hand and a freshly lit see-through blunt, but to Gray's surprise, he wasn't alone. The same woman he was talking to earlier was not only in his face, but was sitting comfortably on his lap with her arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Gray couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like the woman was either whispering in his ear or licking it. Gray was so outdone she was dumbfounded. To add to her embarrassment, when Gunz noticed her watching, he simply gave her a look that said
deal with it
. Her heart was shattered. This wasn't how their story was supposed to go. Gray wanted to be the classy woman she was and walk away, but fuck that. He owed her an explanation. And no, he wasn't technically her man, but hadn't the time they'd spent together stood for something?

“Hi, how are you? I'm Gray.” She placed out her hand for a shake.

“Hi,” the woman spoke back dryly.

Gunz, being the man he was, continued to sip on his drink as if nothing was wrong.

“Y'all having a good time?”

“Yeah.” The woman looked at her funny, and then looked at Gunz. “You two know each other or something?”

“That's my homegirl. Ain't that right, Gray?”

“So it's like that?” she asked, shooting him a look that could kill.

“Like what? What you talkin' about, shorty?”

“Now you gon' try and play me crazy. Okay, that's what's up?” She sucked in her bottom lip and smiled. “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart. Y'all have a good night.” And with that being said, Gray walked away.

“Yo, what the fuck is yo' problem?” Gunz caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

“I don't have time for this shit. I'm going home.” She snatched her arm away.

“Time for what? You the one that told me you wasn't coming.”

“Oh, so since you thought I wasn't coming you decide to invite one of your other hoes?”

“Man, I didn't even invite her.” Gunz shook his head, annoyed. “That's some ol' shit. I ain't worried about it, and you for damn sure shouldn't be.”

“You didn't invite her, but she still in your muthafuckin' face. As a matter of fact, the whole time I been here, she been in yo' face. What, you fuckin' her or something?”

“So that's how it gon' be? Every time I go out you gon' think I'm out here fuckin' every chick you see me talkin' to?”

“What you expect for me to think? The bitch was sitting on your lap!”

“Hold up. I'm not doing this with you. Whether I'm fuckin' her or not ain't none of your business. You not my girl. I told you I ain't want to be in no relationship, and shit like this ain't gon' make me change my mind no sooner. So I'ma tell you like this, Gray, 'cause I'm not gon' let you fuck up my night. You either gon' stay here and chill wit' me, or you gon' take yo' ass home and I'll be over there when I leave up outta here. Either way it go, I'm good, so do what you got to do,” he shot before heading back to where he was at.