2. Global “Dice” Jamerson
Global “Dice” Jamerson
Everything felt like déjà vu…the ride, the heaviness settling in my chest, the silence that always seemed to accompany loss.
You would think losing one of your own would get easier after a while, that grief would eventually run out of places to settle, but I had learned the hard way that pain never cared about what you had already survived.
It always found a new wound to call home.
I had lost so much over the years that most people assumed I had mastered the art of carrying it. The truth was I had simply gotten better at hiding it. Losing Rose wasn’t just another loss to add to the pile. It was reopening wounds I had spent years convincing myself had finally healed.
To the world, I was Dice.
Dice was the name, the reputation, the armor I wore whenever life demanded more strength than I felt capable of giving.
She was the woman people expected to see, unshakable, fearless, impossible to break.
The full-face makeup, fire-engine-red hair, the six-inch heels, the designer labels, the always-done-up BBB, also known as Big, Beautiful, and Black.
BBW was universal, tailored to any plus-size woman, but BBB, that was our shit.
But Global was different.
Global was the version of me I kept tucked away from the world, revealing her only to a select few. He knew a part of Global, he felt a part of Global, and he damn sure witnessed her tears while I rode his morning wood, trying to forget the part where my heart ached.
I’m glad he didn’t push for answers. He literally stroked me through my pain. No words; he just lifted my heavy bottom and matched my rhythm while I silently moaned, and my tears escaped.
I never gave enough of myself for anyone to truly know me. Some called it being private. Others called it being guarded. Maybe they were both right.
All I knew was that somewhere along the way, protecting my peace had started to look a lot like protecting my pain.
The curves down Shadowstone Mountain were like riding down a big ass go-kart track with no guardrails, just hoping and praying yo’ ass made it up and down safely. Maybe I was being a bit dramatic, but this daredevil shit was not my idea of fun.
Drag race anytime, but a death trap absolutely the fuck not!
But for her, I would take this ride.
This was Rose’s favorite route, and I had to do this for her; hell, I had to do this for me. I pushed my black-and-red MTT-420RR, aka Badass Bessie, around the steep curves, having to give enough gas to carry all this ass and weight I toted.
I leaned Bessie into another sharp curve, feeling the machine respond beneath me like she had a mind of her own. The mountain wind whipped against my leather cut, tugging at the curls trying to spill from beneath my helmet while the heels of my boots rested firmly on the pegs.
Being a big girl on a bike like this required understanding physics.
I couldn’t rely on my weight the way smaller women might.
Each lean served a purpose. Every movement of my hips was significant.
Hesitate too much, and the mountain would dominate me; if my confidence was too high, it could overpower me.
This wasn’t my shit, so I was careful but still pushing the limit.
The engine roared as I gave Bessie more gas on the throttle, pushing her to carry every inch of woman I was through the turn. The bike dipped low, my heart pounding, and for a brief moment, it felt like I was flying instead of riding.
Rose loved coming to these mountains so much that I didn’t think twice about purchasing a home up here when one came open.
Pulling onto my road, the beautiful four-bedroom, four-bathroom modern-style cabin came into view.
The secret I held in these mountains would have me plastered on a T-shirt and finally have Kash and Rebel’s stubborn asses’ attention.
I really was missing my sisters like crazy.
Killing my engine, I started to climb off Bessie, using all the energy I had left to throw these big ass thunder thighs over. I had been riding for so long, I felt stuck. Hearing the front door open, I knew my cousin was about to start his shit.
“Bitchhhh what the fuck?”
“Coca, don’t start wit’ me,” I fussed, but I knew that only served as an invitation to continue.
“Start wit’ you, bitch, I’m so damn bored up this muthafucka I started to go in the back and pick a fight with Bambi.”
“Bambi?” I laughed.
“Hell yeah, I need some adult interactions.”
“Boy, hush. I ain’t been gone that long. You go everywhere I go, so I don’t understand your frustration. But I’m here now, so if you’re that miserable, leave.”
“I wish the fuck I would.” Coca planted a hand on his hip. Who voluntarily buys a house on the side of a damn mountain? I know who…A fuckin’ killer. This screams serial killer behavior vibes. Every scary movie starts with a house looking like this."
I rolled my eyes.
“This is peace.”
“Peace? Bitch please. This gotta be some form of witness protection. There’s a difference.
Got my black ass stashed away up here like I snitched on the leader of a cartel.
” He planted one hand on his hip while the other one pointed toward the woods.
“Look…” He waved his arm back and forth over the line of trees.
“While you was out ‘clearing yo’ head’…” His fingers lifted into air quotes around the last few words.
“My fine ass has seen three squirrels, thirteen deer, and a family of raccoons today. But you wanna know how many men I’ve seen? ”
“Zero?”
“Annnnnnd bingo, not even a damn Park Ranger. My social life is in hospice with this signal. I feel like a gay man trapped against his will. And bitch I been came outta the closet. I have done so much cleaning in there, I fucked around and forgot you paid me already, and left a bill on the counter.”
That one earned a laugh out of me.
“You’re ridiculous. Against your will?”
“YES!” He threw his arms in the air. “You got me up here looking like the final girl in a horror movie. Every time a twig snaps, I start preparing my last words. The Problem was gonna be all alone because I was hittin’ the deuces and power walking my happy ass all the way to a truck stop.”
I laughed so hard because just where does he come up with these dramatic ass antics?
“Boy, hush. Yo’ ass a damn trip.”
“And yet, I’m still the most entertaining thing you’ve got up here.”
“That’s for damn sure. But we will not be up here long. I will be making my next move soon.”
“Wheww, yesssss, 21 and up energy. You know, I read somewhere that if you don’t have adult time, your brain shrinks. The Problem is causing me to lose my vocabulary.”
“Imagine that.”
I rolled my eyes.
Coca was yapping so much, we had yet to make it inside, where the biggest secret of my life rested. The device in his hand made a loud noise, and I knew resting when I got inside was off the menu.
“Would you looka there… The Problem is up.”
“I’m tired of you calling my baby that.”
“But find the lie, and I will find the solution.”
“Bitch move,” I said while making my way into the house.
“Don’t do me, hoe.”
Coca was my favorite cousin, and when I wasn’t kicking it with G.O.R.
, I was definitely with him. Now that life had drastically changed for the gang since we lost Rose, we pretty much did our own thing unless we had a job coming up or it was time to visit the graveyard.
Sometimes you would see evidence of someone being at the clubhouse or safehouses, but other than that, it was nothing unless someone felt like doing a quick check-in.
I knew the gang still blamed me for the fuck up, but we didn’t have an inside man, and there was no way for me to know the schedule.
We weren’t new to this shit; hell, we had been at this for over a damn decade now.
The news was trying to figure out who the hell we were, but I was a beast at designing our realistic silicone mask.
The time and art I put into each mask, you would be looking for Leonardo DiCaprio on Wall Street, fucking with me.
My skills helped get them off our trail.
By the time they found a clue, if there was one, me and my bitches would be in the wind.
Hearing little feet patting the hardwood, a smile spread on my face.
“Come to mommy,” I said, bending down so I could scoop his lil chunky butt up.
“Bitch I see what them nigga see in yo’ ass.”
“Would you shut the hell up?” I said, laughing while pinching Revv’s cheek. Coca was always talking shit, especially when it came to my big ass booty. This thing would have you thinking I got on a table, but this is homegrown, and the thighs definitely matched.
“What you been doing, mommy baby?”
“Sleep and blocks.”
“Oh, you played with your blocks?”
“Mmmm hmm.”
“Nope. Use your words,” I demanded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy.”
Regardless of what, I didn’t play that nodding or mumbling. I wanted my son to be the best and have the best.
“When was the last time he ate?” I asked Coca.
“Girl, don’t do me. I cooked Alfredo chicken, sweet peas, and made a fresh salad.”
“That’s what got it smelling good in here.”
“You already know how I do.”
That was true. Coca could cook his ass off, and he took damn good care of my son. Truth be told, I didn’t know where I’d be without him, and I was pretty sure he felt the same way about me.
Coca wasn’t just my first cousin, our mothers being sisters, but life made us more like brother and sister than anything else.
I would never forget the night that happened. The night laughter turned into tears.
We had spent the weekend at our grandparents’ house. We were waiting for our mothers to pick us up. That evening, they must have called because we heard Granny Day in the kitchen fussing on the house phone.
“Y’all better have y’all asses back here before ten, and I ain’t playing. These damn kids gotta go to school. If ya’ll late, I’m on y’all heads,” She threatened.
Me and Coca stood in the doorway trying not to laugh.