Gunz and Roses (7 page)

“Right, and just remember, don't get nothing on you,” Kema teased.

“You are a mess.”

“And make sure he tell ol' boy I said what's up.”

“I will.”

Gray and Gunz weren't even out the door a good five minutes before Truth reemerged with his and Gray's drinks.

“Where Gray at?” he asked with a concerned look on his face.

“She just left,” Kema answered, downing the drink in her hand.

“Who she leave with?”

“Some nigga name Gat. I don't know. Don't get me to lying.” She took the extra drink from Truth's hand and gulped it down as well.

“You don't know? So you just let her leave the club with somebody she barely knows?”

“Shit, she looked like she knew him to me. Calm ya ol' extra nervous ass down.”

“Fuck you, Kema. You be on some bullshit, man.” Truth shook his head as he retrieved his cell phone. “I'm up,” he declared while dialing Gray's number.

“How you just gon' leave me? I rode wit' you,” Kema yelled.

“Well, bring yo' ass on then!”

 

Nervous jitters fought for space in the pit of Gray's stomach as she approached the door to her house. The palms of her hands felt like clay. She could feel Gunz's presence from behind, wanting and needing her. She wanted him as much as he needed her, but it was late, and they'd already played with the idea of him being there when she woke up in the morning. There was no way that she could make the same impulse decision twice, but visions of him caressing and licking her skin filled her mind.

Face to face, exchanging breaths, she studied his face. Just the sight of him caused the tingle in her clit to twitch. It took everything in her not to wrap her legs around his waist and ride his dick right there in the hallway. He could have her at any moment or any given time, and he knew it.

Gunz saw the fear in her eyes. His mouth tried to form the words and tell her not to be afraid, but that would be a lie. It was best she feared him. A nigga like him was no good. He was the worst kind of man to deal with. In the end, he would only break her heart. They both knew this; yet and still, here they were, bathing in the wonder of what should come next.
Is this like or lust?
Gunz questioned himself as his lips sought refuge in her silky skin. Gray had an undeniable effect on him.

The sexual attraction he had for her clouded his better judgment. Kissing her good night and heading to his car was what he should have been doing, but being in the midst of her company compelled him to stay. His tongue wanted to tour the hidden areas of her flesh no other man had dared to find.
This shit is crazy,
he thought as his thumb massaged her cheek.

“Gunz, what is it that you really want?” Gray inhaled deeply. “'Cause I'm not used to guys like you coming into my life and staying.”

“To be honest,”—he pressed his forehead against hers—“I don't know what it is I want to do with you yet.”

“Well, until you figure it out, I think it's best you go home.”

Disappointed with her request, Gunz inhaled deeply and replied, “A'ight.”

Before something happened that might change his mind, he quickly brushed his lips against Gray's. Then he left without saying another word, leaving her speechless.

For a minute, Gray stood with her back pressed against the door, trying to digest the night's events. Incapable of doing so, she turned around and placed her key into the lock and entered her loft. High off her encounter with Gunz, she grabbed the stereo remote and allowed Jill Scott's euphoric voice to serenade her ears. Alone with only Jill's words to keep her company, Gray envisioned Gunz's warm mouth torturing her skin with kisses as she peeled off her clothes one layer at a time.

She wanted him there. Since he wasn't, she went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and got in. Beads of hot water slithered down her breasts and between her thighs, while thoughts of Gunz and the time they'd just shared ran across her mind. After lathering her body with Victoria's Secret Very Sexy shower gel, Gray grabbed her towel and dried off.

Once her body was coated with lotion, she placed on a black Juicy tank top trimmed in white, with a pair of matching boy shorts, then turned off the stereo.

Back in her bedroom, Gray lay sideways on her ivory chaise lounge, gazing out of the window. Silence overtook her as she sat all alone, harboring feelings for Gunz. And although he'd just left, she yearned to hear his voice.

Gray's wish came true when suddenly, her phone began to ring.

“Hello,” she answered on the first ring.

“What you doing?”

A smile instantly erupted onto Gray's face.

“Just laying around. What are you still doing up?”

“You know I don't sleep.” He spoke softly into the phone.

“That's right. I forgot. We're going to have to work on that.”

“So what you got going on tomorrow?”

“Nothing much. I'll probably go over one of my friend's houses. What are you going to do?”

“Me and my pot'nahs going hooppin' in the morning, then after that it's back to business as usual.” Gunz thought about the large shipment of cocaine he had coming in.

“If I have time, I wanna come see you, if that's a'ight.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” she replied, enthused.

That night, Gray and Gunz talked for hours under the cloud-covered moon. They discussed everything that a man and woman would when trying to get to know one another, like what their favorite colors were, likes, dislikes, hopes, and dreams. Talking to one another was so easy. The conversation was never forced or dull. Words spilled from their mouths like running water.

Gray clung to Gunz's every word. His voice captivated her. It was deep and full of bass. She didn't know it, but her voice also put a spell on him. For the first time in years, Gunz felt at ease. He didn't know if it was Gray's personality or the sincerity in the way she talked; whichever one it was, he liked it. Neither of them knew it then, but that night would be the first of many late night phone calls.

 

The next morning, Gray awoke with the sun beaming in her face. The cordless phone was stuck to her ear. It was evident by the silence coming through the receiver that she'd fallen asleep on the phone. Lifting herself up, she checked the clock and saw that it was 9:00 in the morning.

“Wow. I wonder how long I was asleep,” Gray spoke out loud as she hung up the phone.

Twisting her torso from side to side, she popped her back and stretched before pulling the covers back to get into bed. Gray had just placed her right knee onto the mattress when the phone began to ring. Who in the hell was this, calling her at nine o'clock in the morning, she thought. Gray didn't play when it came to her sleep. Her family and friends knew not to call her until at least eleven.

“Hello?” She answered with an attitude.

“Gray!” Truth stressed her name.

“What?”

“Why haven't you been answering your phone? I've been trying to call you all night.” His voice quivered.

“I fell asleep on the phone. What's wrong wit' you?”

“I found Rich.”

“Where was he at this time?” she asked, getting underneath the covers.

“In the trunk of his car. . . . He's dead!”

G
ray swallowed the huge lump in her throat and vaguely studied her surroundings. It seemed like the whole North Side was in Truth's mother's living room. The entire house from top to bottom was filled to the brim with mourners. Everybody from his family to his best friend, Fortune, and associates were there.

All Gray saw were different forms of black clothing floating by. There were elderly women in big black hats, thugs in black suits, and curvaceous women in form-fitting black dresses, all there to mourn the tragic death of a man who died way too soon.

The way Rich died and how they found him was what fucked Gray up the most. For days, residents in his apartment complex had been complaining about a foul stench coming from his car. The smell was so profound that the building's manager stepped in. Once he couldn't get a hold of Rich, he reached out and called Truth, since he was listed as the “In Case of Emergency” contact on his application.

After attending sunrise services, Truth and his mother, Ms. Moore, went by Rich's place. Using the set of spare keys he had, Truth opened the trunk only to find his twenty-three-year-old brother bloody, beaten, and dead. Tears and vomit seeped from his insides.

Seeing her eldest son in such a state prompted Ms. Moore to get out of the car and see what was going on.She had no idea what she was about to see. Truth tried to block her path and stop the heartache she was about to feel, but his attempts were of no use. Ms. Moore spotted her son, and screams of loss exploded from the pit of her gut. The vision of her son lying on his side with his mouth and eyes wide open, a bullet wound in the front of his head, would never escape her memory.

Now, here they all were, trying to be hopeful and supportive, when really deep down, no one knew the right words to convey. Deciding it was her time to step in line and console Ms. Moore, Gray left the corner she'd been hiding in and approached the elderly woman.

Donny Hathaway's soul-stirring ballad, “For All We Know,” played delicately from the record player sitting beside her. Ms. Moore was one of the few people left that still used an old school record player to listen to her oldies. She sat to herself in her favorite chair, a sky blue Laz-Z-Boy with a handful of tissues in hand. Her face was stone. The only emotion that showed was one of sorrow. Streaks of tears stretched across her cheeks, under her chin, and down her neck. For the past hour, her attention had been focused on one particular spot in the middle of the floor. It was the same spot Rich used to sit in and watch television as a child.
The Cosby Show
was his favorite.

Gray felt horrible as she kneeled down, placed her purse on her lap, and gently took Ms. Moore's pudgy hand. She was so incoherent that she didn't even notice Gray was there until she called out her name.

“Oh, hi, Gray.” She took her attention off the floor and looked at her face.

“How you doing, Ms. Moore?” Gray massaged the outside of her hand with her thumb.

“That's a difficult question to answer, dear. I guess I'm just here; that's all I can say right now.”

“Have you eaten anything? You know you have to take your medicine.”

“No, I'm not that hungry, but thank you.”

“But, Ms. Moore, you have to eat something, even if it's just a little bit. I don't want you to get sick. Just let me fix you a little something, please.”

“Okay, but not a lot. I won't be able to stomach much.”

“Okay.” Gray patted her hand and picked up her purse. “I'll be right back.”

As she went to turn around, Gray collided head first into Gunz's chest. She hadn't talked to him since the night they fell asleep on the phone. Shocked to see his face at Rich's funeral, she quickly stepped back and looked him up and down. As usual, his attire was immaculate. Gunz was dressed in a gray Dolce & Gabbana suit and black Prada loafers. His hair was freshly cut, and the goatee surrounding his mouth was lined to perfection. For the first time, he looked like a businessman and not a thug.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked.

“Get outta my house!” Ms. Moore began to scream as she got up. “You killed him! You did this to my boy.” She pounded her fists into his chest. “How could you?”

“Ms. Moore, I'm sorry.” Gunz tried his best to apologize.

“No, you're not! You and those sorry sacks of shit you run with killed my son! You killed him!” She doubled over, sobbing. “Oh Lord! I can't take it! Just give 'im back to me, Lord! Give 'im back!”

Gray stood alongside Gunz and Ms. Moore, speechless. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out how Gunz and Ms. Moore knew each other.
Were Gunz and Rich friends
? she thought.

“I just want my boy back! Lord, why? Why?” Ms. Moore continued to shout as onlookers began to whisper.

“Mama?” Truth appeared suddenly. “Mama, sit down. You're going to make yourself sick again.”

Truth sat his mother down and kissed her forehead before getting into Gunz's face. “You got a lot of nerve showing up here like this.”

“You two know each other?” Gray questioned Truth, perturbed.

“Yeah, I know this sorry-ass muthafucka,” he responded, unafraid.

“Gunz, what's going on?” Gray nervously searched his eyes for answers.

Ignoring her, Gunz directed his attention to Truth. “Let me hit you with something real quick,” he spoke low enough so only Truth could hear. “Don't you ever in your life come at me like that again. I will kill you; then your mother will be mourning two sons instead of one. Ya dig? Now, get the fuck out my face. Gray,”—Gunz turned his attention to her—“I'll be in the car.”

And with that being said, Gunz left the house as quickly as he came.

“You fuckin' with that nigga?” Truth yelled as spit spewed from his lips.

“Umm, you can quit yelling at me,” Gray said sternly as she looked around at the people watching them.

“I'm sorry. I just can't believe that nigga.” Truth paced back and forth. “How the fuck y'all know each other?”

“Gunz is the guy I've been tellin' you about.”

“That's the nigga!”

“Yeah, now, how do you know him?”

“Gunz is the dude Rich was working for.” Truth pulled Gray far enough so his mother couldn't hear. “And I bet you anything he had something to do with him being killed.”

“Don't say nothing like that.” She absently shook her head.

“So what, you siding wit' that nigga? My word ain't good enough no more?”

“I'm not siding with anybody. I'm just saying you can't be going around accusing people of stuff like that. What you're saying is serious. It could ruin someone's life.”

“What, like he ruined mine? My fuckin' brother is dead and it's because of that nigga, I'm tellin' you.”

“Look, calm down. Let me just go and tell him good-bye and I'll be right back.” Gray said before she walked away, not giving Truth enough time to respond.

A cool April wind kissed the side of Gray's face as she descended the steps and got into Gunz's car. Once inside, she sat quiet. So much was going through her head.

Gunz didn't bother to speak either. He never expected in a million years to run into Gray at Rich's funeral. He hadn't even planned on attending. The only reason he came was because he felt in some strange way he owed Ms. Moore that much.

“I was surprised to see you in there.” She finally spoke up.

“Yeah, them my peoples.”

“Really? Well, how come I've never seen you around before? I've been cool with Truth for years.”

“I haven't talked to you in a couple of days. Is this really what you wanna talk about?” Gunz shot, not in the mood.

“I mean, damn, excuse me. I was just asking you a question,” Gray shot back.

“Look, ma, I ain't tryin' to argue wit' you. I'm tryin' to kick it wit' you. As a matter of fact, I'm tryin' to get something to eat, so are you riding, or what?”

“I'll go with you, but I just need to know some things.”

“Some things like what?”

“What is it exactly that you do for a living?”

“I shovel snow,” Gunz answered without hesitation.

Gray inhaled deeply. She had pretty much already figured out that Gunz earned his money the illegal way.

“And did you kill Rich?”

Gunz looked at Gray and swallowed hard. Everything in him wanted to tell her the truth, but if he did, what little relationship they'd built thus far would be over. He couldn't risk losing her, so he took her by the hand, gazed sincerely into her eyes, opened his mouth, and said, “Baby, I swear to God I ain't have shit to do with that. Rich was like a li'l brother to me.”

Gray wished that she could completely trust in his answer, but something inside her soul told her that Gunz was lying. She wanted to push the conversation further, but the look in his eyes screamed that now was not the time, so Gray tucked her suspicions away, vowing to press the issue later.

 

The buzzing sound of printers and fax machines rang in Gray's ear as she sat alone at her desk. Taking a moment, she looked at the ceiling and thanked God that it was Friday. She couldn't wait for the day to be over. From the time she got into work, she'd been busy with one task after another.

Sienna was driving her crazy with her insane demands. She'd been given the opportunity to write an article on “Fabulous Women over 40,” but it had to be finished and turned in by seven o' clock the next morning. Gray didn't know how she would finish on time. Not only did she have to complete her article, but that weekend she was hosting the girls' monthly Saturday night get together.

Every month, they'd go all out with decorations, food, wine, and music. Gray's theme for this month's get together would be Parisian chic. To add to her stress, she also had an eleven o'clock hair appointment, and if she had enough time, she'd try to squeeze in getting her nails and feet done. Gray was tired already, and the weekend was just starting.

Checking the clock on her desk, she saw that it was only 12:30. Gray collapsed onto her desk and sighed. She still had four and a half hours to go. She needed a cup of coffee or a shot of espresso to perk her up. The cafeteria was only two floors down. Gray grabbed her clutch purse and got up. After pressing the down button and waiting a couple of minutes, she boarded the elevator. Halfway down, her cell phone began to vibrate. Gray tried not to smile once she saw that it was Gunz.

For a second she wondered if she should even answer. The last time she'd heard from him was two days after the funeral, and that was a week and a half ago. They were supposed to go out and kick it, but after waiting three hours, Gray realized that she'd been stood up. That time, she wasn't having it. Gray called Gunz's cell phone and left him a message, letting him have it. Later on that night, he called and apologized, but Gray wasn't trying to hear him. His apology went in one ear and out the other.

“What?” She finally decided to answer on the fourth ring.

“Who you
what
in'?”

“You. Who else on this phone?” she snapped back.

“Be easy.” Gunz ignored her sarcasm as he purchased a brand new pair of sneakers at R Sole. “What you doing?”

“About to have lunch.”

“Why you ain't call me? We could've had lunch together.”

“Gunz, please. The last time we had plans together you stood me up.”

“Gray, I don't have the kind of schedule where I can be on you like the way I want to, so chill out and quit bringing up ol' shit. I told you I got caught up on business, but that's irrelevant. That happened like two weeks ago and I apologized. Besides, I ain't even call you for all that.”

“Then what you call me for?” she asked, picking up a tray.

“I called to see if you wanted to come to this chocolate party wit' me tonight.”

“Where?”

“At 1108.”

“Nah, I'm good. I got a lot on my plate.”

“So, that's how it is? You act like you don't miss me.” Gunz got into his car and started up the engine.

“It ain't got nothing to do with me not missing you.” Gray's heart dropped as she picked up a chicken Caesar salad. “I got a lot of stuff I got to do in the next twenty-four hours, and going out isn't one of them. Besides, I ain't fuckin' wit' you like that.”

“Why not?” He pulled off.

“ 'Cause I'm not. You be on some bullshit. Every time we make plans, you always breakin'em, so I'll see you another time.”

“That's what's up. Well, I'm sorry you feel that way,” he spoke, stunned.

“Yeah, me too.”

For a minute, the two held the phone in silence, unsure of what to say next.

“Well, I'll holla at you then.” Gunz hung up reluctantly.

Gray stood in line with her cell phone in hand, shocked. Had the almighty Gunz showed some type of emotion? From the sound of his voice, she could tell he was hurt. She didn't want to do him that way, but it had to be done. He had to see that she wasn't that easy.

Now that she'd proven her point, Gray contemplated what she would wear to 1108.

 

Throughout the years, one special woman held the key to Gunz's heart. It was his mother, Vivian. Gunz was her oldest of two, and the only one who gave her no pain during birth. In the years to follow, though, even though it wasn't intentional, he would cause her unnecessary grief. Gunz was a wild child with a “fuck the world” attitude. After his father Joseph became addicted to heroin and left for the streets and his sister Adriana passed, there was nothing else for him to live for.