Gunz and Roses (5 page)

“Nah, I think that's about it, but if I do think of something else, I'll let you know.” He cracked her favorite crooked smile.

“Good night, Gunz.”

“Good night, ma.”

 

Gray was lying flat on her back, asleep, when she felt the familiar sensation of two hands creeping up her thighs. Gunz licked the face of her pussy as she squirmed in her sleep. Once she opened her eyes, she found him between her legs.

“Gunz,” she moaned, rubbing the top of his head. “Baby . . . what are you doing?”

“Damn, I miss tastin' this shit.” He ran his tongue across her stiff clit, looked at it in awe, then kissed the lips of her pussy. “Mmm.”

Gunz buried his face in Gray's pussy and went to work. Gray swore with each lick that her body had been transported into space, where the stars were so close you could reach out and grab one. She didn't know whether to sing, squeal, hum, or rhyme. His grip on her thighs was so tight. She liked the constraint, but it was all too much to handle. His tongue strokes set off a spark in her pelvis that she couldn't or didn't want to control.

Gunz felt her legs shake as cum escaped from her valley and onto his tongue. The average man wouldn't be able to handle her sweetness; they'd overdose. Gunz could never have too much. Thoughts of the way her butterscotch skin melted in his hands stayed in his mind. He didn't know what this was he was feeling, but had to have his fix and quick.

Gunz swiftly made his way up her body. The desire in his eyes was as evident as the moon. Between her legs, he took a hold of her thighs and pushed them back. Gunz inserted his dick into her pussy inch by inch. Her wet walls devoured him. Together they rocked to a slow, steady beat, while Gray wondered, was this the beginning of a promising relationship?

G
ray lay half awake. A slight smile graced the corners of her lips. Months had passed since she shared the company of a man she actually liked spending time with. She'd dated guy after guy, and nothing seemed to come of it. It was always the same routine: meet a man, put up with his bullshit, and then kiss his sorry ass good-bye. Gray was so sick and tired that
sick and tired
were not even the words to describe how she felt.

None of the men she met lived up to her expectations. First there was White Mike. They'd met a year and half ago, when she was twenty-six. He was flyer than fly, with a buzz cut, boyish good looks, great job, and expensive cars. Slick lines were his entire conversation. Romance and companionship were what he offered, when really all he wanted was a warm pussy to slide his two-inch pink dick into.

For weeks he'd sweet-talked the pussy, promising Gray sexual pleasure. Then when the time came, all she got was a “why, God?” and a slight tingle. Mike did everything from licking and sucking to biting the pussy to make up for his lack of manhood, but nothing he did could take Gray there. In the end, all she could remember was her legs wrapped around his big back as his penis played peek-a-boo with her pussy for three minutes. Needless to say, after that fiasco, it was a wrap on White Mike.

Then there was Dion, but everyone knew him as The Home Depot Guy. He was twenty-two, tall, with big feet and benefits, but the chemistry just wasn't there. He was too much of a square for Gray's taste. She wanted the full package: a man with a heart of gold who could knock the pussy out.

She longed for a man who liked taking long walks on the beach, could provide her with security, and take care of her every need. Gray yearned for someone she could call her own. He didn't have to be a gangsta or a baller. All she wanted was for him to come and rescue her from the pain that other men so selfishly left behind.

She was finished with getting her hopes up only to be disappointed. She was fed up with praying to God for a husband that seemed destined not to come. How many more nights would she have to beg for him to finally catch on? It wasn't like she didn't attend church, pay tithes, or believe in the Word. She'd done everything. Gray tried being patient. She asked God for discernment. She described the type of man she wanted down to a T, but what had that gotten her? Nothing but bitter nights alone.

All of her friends had men, so this left Gray with wondering what it was that she was doing wrong. Was it the vibe she put out that kept attracting “ain't shit” niggas, or were the words
sucker for love
written across her forehead? Every man she met seemed to be full of shit, not on her level, or a waste of her time.

But Gunz was different. He had heartbreak written all over him, but for some reason, she just couldn't walk away. He had a certain aura about him that intrigued her to want to know more about him. With him, she wanted to swallow her pride. She wanted her emotions to show. If he allowed her to, she would be everything he ever hoped and dreamed.

Happy that he was only a few feet away, Gray got up from her bed and headed downstairs. She was so excited to see his face, but to her dismay, he wasn't there. He had already left. The covers she'd given him the night before were neatly folded on the sofa. There wasn't a note or anything left behind to say good-bye.

Stupid
was the only word that came to mind as Gray stood stunned. Once again she felt played. She thought about calling him, but changed her mind. Instead, she carried on with her day as if he didn't exist.

An hour and a half later, she was at work. Gray had just walked through the doors when Kema rushed up to her.

“Seems to me like you have an admirer, girlfriend.”

“What are you talkin' about?” Gray asked, confused, as she placed down her suede Lauren Merkin clutch.

“Read this and find out.” Kema handed Gray a small note dressed in a white envelope.

Eager to know who it was from, Gray sat down at her desk and opened up the note. It read:
Have breakfast on me, Gunz
.

“Have breakfast on me,” Gray repeated as she looked across the room and noticed a huge buffet table filled with food.

How she hadn't noticed it as soon as she walked in was beyond her. There were muffins, croissants, fruit, eggs, and bacon. You name it, it was there. It was enough food to feed the entire floor, and it was all courtesy of Gunz. Gray was on cloud nine. Nobody had ever done anything so sweet for her before.

“So, who is Gunz?”

“The guy I met that night at Dolce.” Gray blushed.

“He must be one hell of a guy.”

“He is.” Her cheeks were now burning bright red.

“Damn, he got you cheesing like that? Please tell me he got a brother, ‘cause I wanna be cheesing too.”

“Shut up, Kema.”

“I'm for real, girl. So when do I get to meet this Gunz?”

“I don't know. Like I said, we just met. Things between us aren't even that serious yet.”

“From the looks of this spread, it seems to me like he's serious about you.”

“We'll see, but look, give me a second so I can call him and say thanks.”

“A'ight. While you doing that, I'ma go and get me some French toast.”

“Bring me some too.”

Once Kema was out of ear distance, Gray dug into her clutch purse and fished out her iPhone. She couldn't wait to hear Gunz's voice.

Five rings and no answer later, she was left with no choice but to leave a message. “Hey, Gunz, it's me. I just wanted to say thank you for breakfast. That was so sweet. I can't believe you did that. Hope you have a good day. Call me when you get a chance later. Bye.”

 

After making passionate love to Gray the night before, Gunz hopped on a private plane to the Sunshine State. He now sat back on his eighty-foot yacht, allowing the rays from the Miami sun to bless his skin. Gray's voicemail message sang in his ear, as visions of her face danced in his mind. Holding his head back, he let out a much needed sigh. He knew that if he stuck around Gray too long, he'd continue to make promises he'd never be able to keep.

His lifestyle was too wild, too dangerous and unpredictable. He was constantly out of town. It was nothing for him to receive a phone call at the crack of dawn about a shipment that needed to be picked up. Droves of women yearned to be in the midst of his grace.

By the looks of Gray, he could tell she couldn't keep up. He was too hood, and she was too high maintenance. Sweetness poured from her skin. She was nothing like the ghetto chicks he was used to dealing with. If he made her his girl and allowed her into his life, she'd become like all the other hustlers' wives, insecure and needy. But none of that mattered. He and Gray could never be.

Gunz was too stuck in his ways. He was the type of nigga that stayed on the go. He answered to no one. He wasn't the one to be questioned or quizzed. Nobody's feelings mattered but his. That's why he never wifed a chick; being in a relationship came with too many responsibilities. He liked Gray and wanted to keep her around, but not anyone, even Gray with her trusting eyes and winning smile, could have his heart.

“I know my nigga ain't on the phone cakin',” Bishop joked as Gunz closed his cell phone.

“What?” he asked, coming back to reality.

“You over there smiling and shit. Some broad got ya nose wide open.”

“Man, please. You know me. I'll never give my heart to a woman.”

“That's the same thing I said. Now look. Me and Keisha been married five years, wit' three kids and one on the way.”

“Damn, nigga, do y'all ever use rubbers?”

“Hell naw. Keisha know I like to go up in mines raw. That condom bullshit be in the way.”

“Yo' ass is nuts.” Gunz laughed, shaking his head.

“Yo, Gunz, you got a visitor,” Watts announced, peeking his head around the corner.

“Who is it?”

“Fortune.”

“Let him up.”

Fortune, one of Gunz's soldiers from Miami, boarded Gunz's yacht with a look of admiration written on his face. He knew Gunz was doing it, but damn! From the looks of it, he could tell the yacht had to be worth at least four million. It held four large staterooms, a galley equipped with gourmet appliances, a fully stocked kitchen, sky lounge, living area, movie theater, and pool. Gunz also had a staff of maids, bodyguards, and cooks on board. Four bad chicks dressed in bikinis lounged on the deck, sipping champagne as if it were their daily routine. This was the life, and Fortune was going to do everything in his power to have a piece of the devil's pie.

“What's up, Gunz?”

“How you doing?” Gunz reached out his hand for a shake.

“I'm straight.”

“You sure? I know Rich was ya man.”

“Yeah, I'm cool.” Fortune tried his best to hide the hate in his eyes. Over the years, he and Rich had become close friends. When he heard about his death, Fortune was devastated, and to sit in front of the man who ordered his best friend dead was the hardest thing he had to do in his life thus far.

“Good. That's what's I like to hear. As a matter of fact, let me get you a drink. Locia,” Gunz called out to one of the bathing beauties.

For a minute, Fortune lost track of why he was there as the cocoa-colored mami sauntered over. She was lethal, cute, and petite; just how he liked 'em. And her titties were more than a mouthful. Homegirl didn't have any shame in her game. He could almost swear that she placed her small round ass in his face on purpose as she bent over and poured Gunz's drink.

“Anything else, papi?” she asked after giving them both their glasses.

“Nah, you good, shorty.” Gunz cocked his head to the side and looked at her ass too.

Locia's curves had Fortune in a daze. Her impeccable good looks were too much for the young solider to handle. Instead of focusing on Gunz, he was too busy watching Locia's butt cheeks bounce as she walked away.

“You a'ight? You act like you ain't never seen a woman before.”

“My bad, boss.” Fortune coughed, clearing his throat. “You know I been down with the crew for almost two years now, and I'm still at solider status.”

“And why is that?”

“Shit, that's what I'm tryin' to figure out. I've put in the work. Ask anybody in the crew and they'll tell you how I get down.”

“My man,” Gunz said with a laugh. “You still ain't tellin' me what it is that you came here for.”

“I wanna move up in rank. I wanna become captain.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me ask you something.” Gunz mean-mugged Fortune. “What makes you think I wanna fuck wit' you like that?”

Fortune wanted to reply, but couldn't find the words to say. The look on Gunz's face screamed that it was time for him to talk and for Fortune to listen.

“Fortune, I like you. You're a good dude. I ain't never really heard anything bad about you except for the one time you got bagged.”

“That whole thing was my fault. I know I fucked up, but I ain't going back to jail. Straight up. The next time the county see me, it's gon' be in a body bag. I mean, come on, Gunz. I know you good and all, but a nigga like me tryin' get put on. I'm hungry. I'm ready to put in work.”

“So if I do this, what I'ma get from you?”

“Anything you want. Whatever you need. I got you. That's my word. I got you,” Fortune assured.

Gunz rubbed his chin and contemplated whether he should make that move. Fortune seemed trustworthy enough. He could see the hunger burning in his eyes. It was time to put him on.

“So you think you can handle being a captain?”

“I know I can. I know it.”

“Well, look, check this out. I dig what it is that you tryin' to do, so I'ma put you up on game. I got this li'l airport scenario that I want you to be a part of. You wanna captain some shit, here's your shot.

“I got these two shorties from the Dominican Republic, right? They sistas, they kinda fly . . . but I digress. They old dude, Estebon, he got the whole game on lock. That White Girl shit everybody so hyped up about, he the one supplying it.”

“Oh, word?”

“Yeah, so what we gon' do is have ol' girl and them smuggle the shit in the passengers' luggage. Then once it get here, I got two luggage boys that's gon' transport the shit to an unsecured room and unpack the shit.”

“That's what's up? So what you want me to do?”

“You gon' be my luggage bitch—I mean boy,” Gunz joked, laughing.

“Yeah, a'ight.” Fortune nodded his head with a slight smirk of embarrassment.

“Don't take it personal. I'm just fuckin' wit' you.” Gunz adjusted himself in his seat so he could feel more comfortable. “So, what's the deal? You in or you out?”

“I mean, I wanna get down, but what's in it for me?”

“If you don't fuck this up, you get twenty grand once the job is done, and maybe I'll put you on as captain.”

Fortune tried to maintain a steady expression as Gunz and Bishop looked on. Twenty G's wasn't shit. Fortune knew all too well about guys putting in work for the bosses only to get hemmed up in the end. He needed more money and more assurance that he would be okay. Since Gunz wasn't willing to provide him with that, Fortune decided in that moment to take matters into his own hands.

“This my last time askin' you. Are you in or are you out?” Gunz's upper lip curled. He detested repeating himself.

“Of course I'm in. I got you,” Fortune lied.

“Ay, Locia, come show my man the way out.”

“All right, daddy.” She got up and seductively walked toward him.