Love and a Gangsta (7 page)

She nodded and looked straight in my eyes and said, “Omar, you are a man that I love and trust so much. You’re my everything. You are the epitome of what love between a man and a woman should be. You are always the first thing I think about when I rise in the morning and the last I think about when I lay to rest. The first time I looked into your eyes, I knew you would become someone so special to me, someone so dear to me. And I promise to love faithfully. I promise to be one with you, together you and me bringing love, peace, and tranquility. I promise to give you all I can as your woman, because you’re all I want in a man. Let us stand strong together. I love you, baby.”

America had a few tears trickling down her cheeks as she said her vows to me. She gripped my hands tightly and I knew her words truly came from the heart. The Judge nodded, then he turned to me and said, “Your turn young man.”

I gazed at America. I wiped the few tears from her face and smiled. I took a deep breath and said, “You know I love you, America. So let our hearts become one, tightly locked. Let there be no keys to unlock our trust, unlock our love, unlock what those will try to oppose. The first time I looked into your eyes, I knew that you would become someone so special to me, someone so dear to me. You always been there for me, got me hooked on your style and admit that for me, your type is just right, the one I’ll soon have become my wife. You’re my heart and soul, my boo, my lady, and angel in my life, a woman that makes me wanna exceed to become my best… I feel blessed with you and fortunate to have someone like you for my queen to my king. Give yourself to me and I will give myself to you. Placing you on the highest pedestal, then bow down on my knees to cherish and love my Nubian black queen. I promise to give you all I can as your man, removing the feeling of vulnerability, increasing the possibility of true uncompromising love. Now
the sensation of your love covers my heart. The look in your innocent eyes, the touch of your innocent face, and I see my world, my all, the one I will always love. So as a man I try to close my eyes, so I can hold back my cries. But the harder I try, the harder I cry. Because the warmth of your touch, and the blessing of your heart, now have my eyes in tears, leaking wonderful soft cries for the love you and I share. Now falling in love I no longer fear and playa for life I no longer care, because I now feel more secure of what you and I share. So I wanna thank you for warming up a playa’s heart, because now it’s burning for just your love. I love you, baby…and today, I want you as my wife.”

When I was done, more tears trickled down America’s cheeks.

“Very well said,” the judge said, nodding and smiling at me.

I held America’s hands, facing her in my dark blue blazer, black slacks and wing tip shoes, feeling like I was on top of the world. The judge looked at America.

“Do you, Ms. America Stallings take Omar Stanfield, to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you apart.”

“I do,” America proudly stated, staring into my eyes with a smile.

He repeated the same vows and I looked at my beautiful woman and said, “I do.”

The judge announced that we were officially married. I pulled America into my arms and gave her a passionate kiss.

“I love you,” I proclaimed.

“I love you,” she repeated.

It was official. She was my wife. Now I had to step my game up and do me on a more positive note. I had opened a new chapter in my life, and so far it was looking good.

Respect what’s mine.
Know not to cross that line.
I won’t have to get out of line
and clap you with my nine…

 

 

 

I ran Jamaica Queens with an iron fist. I wanted to be more feared than any gangster that came up before me. I acquired my reign in Queens violently through blood. My name ran thick through these streets like traffic and I had cash money longer than train smoke.

I was a street soldier for Tyriq’s vicious drug crew and learned what I could from him until I set his punk ass up. Tyriq and Tip were gun down by Demetrius’ hit men in New Jersey. I watched their brains spill and their blood splattered across the front seat and couldn’t help but smirk. It was the beginning of my rise to power. Tyriq had fucked up and it cost him his life. He fucked up by bringing Vincent in the mix and a bloody war ensued with the Columbians.

In order for me to stay on top, I had to stay smarter, wiser, hungrier and more vicious than the next gangster. I couldn’t look weak, and couldn’t show any kindness. That was how I survived the war and proved my control on the streets.

There was a constant anger in me, driving me to care about anything but that money and my business. I had trust for no one, except for my right hand, Soul…who was released after doing a four-year bid. He was missed and I knew that I needed him by my side again. The two of us together again, we could own New York.

I rode around Queens in my candy red Lincoln Navigator with the vertical Ferrari style doors with the windows tinted and having the door handles, the gas tank cover and the exhaust chromed out. My interior was pearl white with red stitching and four small flat screens hung from the moon-roofed ceiling over each seat. And my truck rested on 26” chromed rims that made my truck feel like it was reaching to the sky.

I was showing my wealth, but not too blatantly. I didn’t want the feds to come creeping up on me. I had enough enemies hating on me and didn’t need the heat from law enforcement anytime soon.

It was a cool clear night and I felt this inward calm, knowing Soul was home and I had to go see my dude and show him a good time. We came up together since we were knee high. From playing in dirt and sand, slap-boxing
each other in the streets, stealing snacks out the bodegas, fighting, running trains on bitches, we both got in the game together on the strength of my older brother, Rahmel. Soul was the one nigga that knew me best and the one nigga I would die for. We stood tall and held on to the attitude that we either gonna ride or die for each other. There was a promise that if one fell, then the next man would stand tall and hold the block down. I did that.

Soul was coming home to an empire that I had built over the years, and unfortunate for him, he caught a gun and drug charge and did that bid alone. I owed the nigga my life. The D. A. wanted to offer him a plea for exchange that he would testify against his brothers. They wanted me for years. I was lethal like the virus and had more bodies than a southern cemetery. I lived reckless, but lived smart. Soul had refused the DA’s offer and even spit in his face for the offer. Soul was willing to ride out his time. I had much love for my nigga.

Navigating my truck down Rockaway Blvd, I stopped at a local bodega for a beef and cheese patty. It was reaching midnight soon. Four young niggas that were hanging out in front smoking and rolling dice gave me the nod of respect, knowing who I was and how fierce my reputation rang in the streets.

I wasn’t alone. My 357 was tucked safely and concealed in the small of my back. I wore jewels with five-thousand cash bulging in my pockets and knew no one had the balls to step to me. I murdered many niggas coming up in this game and with the Jamaicans backing me and becoming my number one supplier, we quickly put the competition out. I was king of Queens.

Outside the bodega, I strolled confidently to my truck and quickly devoured my patty. Fifty Cent played and I turned up the volume to
Many Men.
My system blared and the young niggas bobbed to the bass, admiring my truck.

I was on my way to link up with Greasy at a spot on Linden Blvd. It was a good day. I had sent a message to Tiny—several of his men were now permanently resting in the morgue. I had to watch my back. This was war and I was a veteran on these streets. Soul was finally home and knowing that made my crew not only stronger but deadlier.

Let our hearts be one knot, Tightly locked,
Let no keys unlock our trust, Unlock our love,
Unlock whatever anyone opposes…

 

 

 

“I is married now… I is married now,” I joked, imitating Shug Avery from the
Color Purple.

Omar laughed at me as he carried me across the threshold into our suite at the Marriot. We were in downtown Brooklyn where we booked a room for the night. Going back to the apartment after our ceremony was a bit too ghetto for our taste. I wanted my first night as a married woman to be romantic. So I charged the two hundred and forty dollars a night suite to my visa.

Inside the room, we both looked around in awe. There was premium bedding, two flat screens, one in the bedroom and one in the open room, a mini bar, blackout drapes; the bathroom was bedecked with a hot tub and marble floors, granite countertops, and gold faucets.

“This is perfect indeed,” Omar said, putting me back on my feet.

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed my husband, excited about our quick one night honeymoon. It wasn’t the Bahamas or Hawaii, but it was cool. Soon the bellman came to drop-off our two overnight bags. Omar tipped him a twenty and he left with a smile on his face.

I picked up my small duffle bag and said, “Give me fifteen minutes, baby. I gotta look right for you on our first night as a married couple.”

“All you need to do is come out that bathroom naked, and I’m good.”

I slowly peeled off my dress and hung it on the back of the door. I washed up, then oiled myself down from head to toe, and sprayed some Eternity on me. I then slipped into a bright red stretch lace slip, with scalloped edging and a derriere-skimming length, with the matching thong on. And to top it off, I put on some hooker shoes, which were bright red five-inch stilettos.

I stepped out the bathroom and the lights were still on. Omar was shirtless, in his boxers, lounging on the bed watching TV. The remote fell out of his hand and his mouth dropped opened when he saw me.

“Damn!”

I turned off the lights and approached him seductively. Picking up the
remote, I turned off the television.

“Tonight the only thing you’ll be looking at is me.”

He positioned himself comfortable on the bed, and I slowly removed his boxers.

“Damn, you look good, baby,” he said, with his dick hardening in my grip. He moaned as I stroked him gently, massaging the muscles in his dick like a therapist.

“Hmm, hmm… Oh shit.”

I continued to jerk him off until I heard him say, “Fuck this!”

Removing himself from my grip and positioned himself behind me. Curious, I watched him from my peripheral vision, with my pussy tingling for some dick action. Gripping my ass cheeks, Omar pushed me down on the bed, into a doggy-style. My legs on the floor, he ripped my thong off and tossed them to the floor. He pulled up my lace slip to my hips, bringing my animated pussy into his view.

Omar squatted behind me, holding the back of my thighs and putting his lips deep into me. His long tongue coiled inside me, penetrating every inch of me. I gripped the sheets tightly, and cried out, “Ah ugh, oh yeah, Omar. Oh God yeah!”

His tongue relentlessly attacked my ass making my legs quiver and juices rained heavily on his tongue, saturating his lips. I gasped crying out. I called out Omar’s name numerous times, even screamed out, “Sweet Jesus!” as this sexual tyrant tore into me.

“Omar, you gonna make me… Oh baby, yeah! Yes!”

My manicured nails shredded the green silk sheets. It was so intense I was in a trance. For fifteen minutes, he didn’t let up, not for air. He was a beast between my ass cheeks. He ate out my ass, sucked on my lips and chewed me up.

I panted, feeling my legs weakening. I was about to collapse. Tears began trickling down my cheeks. With my eyes shut, my husband took control of my body. I felt his big black hard dick sliding deep into me. I gasped again, with my grip never loosening around the bed sheets. His nuts slammed against my ass, as he pulled my hair, while he thrust his erection in and out of me. Piercing screams escaped the room walls, and I’m sure you
could hear echoes of bliss in the hallway.

Omar pushed me down on my stomach, pressed his body against me, froggy-style and continued to fuck me. His body grinded against me heavily, his hands clasped into mine. My legs spread widely and he was like a tree trunk inside of me.

“Baby, I’m gonna...”

“Come in me, baby… Ooh yeah, take it. It’s your pussy.”

I wanted to feel him nut in me. Contracting my pussy muscles around his dick, the friction was almost unbearable. His grip tightened, and he rocked himself on top of me faster and faster, screaming, “Damn, your pussy is so, so good. Oh shit, baby… Oh shit! Ah… Ugh ah shit.”

I felt him squirming around on top of me. He trembled, was breathless and sweaty all at once. Omar collapsed next to me on his back and looked at me with satisfying eyes. I couldn’t move. The dick kept me paralyzed for a moment.

“What brought that on?”

“You’re my wife now, it’s gotta get better from now on.” He smiled.

“Ooh baby, baby I’m not complaining baby. You did your thing.”

He smiled and kissed me hard. I was spent and drooled all over him. I couldn’t get up, or move. My first time having sex as a married woman and I loved every minute. Omar nestled against me, kissing me on the back of my shoulder, proclaiming his love for me once again.

I couldn’t be happier. He had his arms wrapped around me, my back pressed against his chest, I felt safe and protected with him. He made me his wife, and I know not too many brothers in his position would be willing to make such a commitment.

Before I fell asleep, I whispered a prayer with my husband lying next to me. I wanted our marriage to last and we stay happy. We were going to have ups and downs, but I wanted our marriage to be strong. My aunt always told me, if you put God first, everything else falls into place. I was a believer.