Chapter 2
Islah
I let out a sigh, sat up, and reached over him for his phone, turning it off, when I felt a hand on my ass.
“Damn, bae, this how you go through a nigga phone?” he joked.
I laughed.
“No, bae, your alarm was going off, I stopped it,” I said as I sat back down.
Gio leaned over and gave me a kiss that left a smile on my face as he pulled away and reached for his phone.
“Damn, I didn’t hear that bitch go off. I was tired as hell.”
I nodded. “As you should be, but it’s time to get up.”
I got out of bed, wrapped my robe around me, and turned on the lamp on my nightstand while he sat in the bed watching me walk out of the room with a look on his face.
“You actin’ like a nigga not his own boss.”
I stopped walking and folded my arms across my chest looking at him.
“I know you are your own boss, my luv. We have real plans that need to be made, and if that means you need to feed the streets day and night, so be it.”
Gio sighed as he got out of bed. His dick was hard as he adjusted his briefs and walked up to me with a smirk on his face, wrapping me up in his arms.
“You know I’ma give you the world, right?” he asked.
I nodded. “I don’t need the world, baby. I need a house, a ring, maybe a child or two on the way.”
He laughed slightly. “I told you I got you.”
“I believe you,” I responded. “And I’ma help you get there.”
He shook his head and walked out to the bathroom. I smiled to myself, made the bed, and laid out my man’s clothes while I hummed “Little Things” under my breath.
I loved me some Gio and the way he took care of me.
I didn’t work, didn’t worry about bills, and dates and trips around the city were nice, but it never went past that.
Nothing outta town or overseas, that nigga never wanted to leave Cali—and that’s not me complaining, I just wanted more, for both of us.
But I was still taken care of, so I did the same for him.
After his clothes, jewelry, and Glock were laid out, I moved to the kitchen and made him breakfast, nothing much—waffles, bacon, eggs, toast, a blunt rolled up, and orange juice. By the time I was putting it on the table, he was walking around the corner with a smile on his face.
He walked over to the table, looked at the food, picked up the blunt, and lit it.
“Damn, that looks good, baby.”
“I know, come on, let’s eat,” I said, smiling back at him.
He pulled my chair out, then we sat down, smoked, talked out the things I wanted, and ate. Gio was understanding, knowing we should have made some changes in our relationship.
“Listen, boo, I’ma be meeting with this new plug, an OG in the streets. No nigga around South LA can get work from him—”
“Then why is he working with you?” I asked, cutting him off.
“Remember when I beat that nigga ass a few weeks ago for starting shit on my block?”
I nodded. “Yeah…”
“His son saw that shit, liked the way I move, and told his pops.”
I smiled. “So you locked in, baby. I’m proud of you.”
Whenever I praised that nigga, he lit up like a kid.
“Thank you, baby, I promise after this re-up, everything you asked for will happen, and more. You know I don’t play about you.”
“I know,” I said, looking out the window, then back at him. “Come on, the sun is almost up.”
I stood up, dead serious, and he laughed.
“You are not gonna let up, are you?”
I shook my head. “Nope, you can get a head start on something.”
We walked to the door. Gio put on his Forces, and I handed him a duffel bag I had packed the night before. I opened it up.
“I refilled it; everything is in there. You know I got you.”
Gio pulled me in for a kiss. “How you take care of a nigga is like no other. Just off the strength of that alone, you should know I got you.”
I opened the door for him with a smile. “Show me then, baby.”
Gio left out as I stood there watching until he pulled out of the parking lot and was outta eyesight. Once I closed the door, I laughed to myself and started to clean up the kitchen.
Seven years, I thought to myself as I washed dishes.
For seven years, I have been with this man.
I met Gio when I was twenty-three, and he was twenty-five.
We were out South Park. He was with his niggas, playin’ ball, stay droppin’ 3’s, and whenever they took a time out, he was servin’ niggas without a care.
It was loud out there, music playing from somebody’s speaker, niggas arguing over fouls from other games, and dice shaking in a cup on the side of the court. In between all of that, we locked eyes, and somehow, everything around me went quiet.
He didn’t smile; he just held my stare for a minute like he was tryin’ to figure something else.
I remember being thrown off by him staring at me, but I tried to play it off cause I was staring back.
His chocolate-glistening skin caught my eye first, then his height.
I love a tall nigga. He was wide like he should have been playin’ football instead of basketball.
He was tatted and muscular, with free-form locs.
After he finished his game, he walked straight over to me and my girls with a ball tucked in one arm and a blunt in the other. The sweat was dripping off his face, while his chains were dancing in the sunlight.
When he got to me, it didn’t take long for him to ask for my number and go on his way, but that night we were on a date, and by the following week he was teachin’ me how to cook crack.
Not because I necessarily needed it. But because he said if I was gonna be by his side, I needed to know his life.
When I first hit the block with Gio, I was nervous as hell.
I swore every car that drove by was the police.
But by the third night, I was with it. My man hit one lick, I hit the other.
Making niggas jealous that their girls didn’t support them like I did.
I’ve watched this nigga take what he wanted with precision.
I’ve been a part of his growth in more ways than one, but now it is time to elevate.
Not just the money.
Us.
And I’m not playin’ with him.
I finished the dishes, moved to the laundry, and by the time I was done vacuuming the living room, it was about noon. I stopped to get dressed. I needed to head out and get some things for the house.
On the way to my car, I texted Gio to let him know I was running some errands and to see if he needed anything. Before I could get in the car, he responded.
“Bring me some lunch, I’m at the park.”
I shook my head, recalling myself reminiscing through the morning.
“What do you want to eat?” I texted back.
“Whatever you bring me, boo.”
I placed my phone in my lap and pulled out of the parking lot, down Crenshaw, palm trees lining the streets like they’ve been watching generations make the same mistake. I caught the light at Slauson and checked my makeup in the mirror.
My shorts were lil’ and huggin’ my thighs, top lil’ showing off my curves, and my cocaine-white toes were shining bright through my sandals.
I got to the grocery store, and all eyes were on me, rightfully so; I looked good. When I stepped out, I represented not only myself, but my nigga as well.
I walked through, letting the cold AC cool me off from that hot ass LA sun. I grabbed some water, some cleaning supplies, and some things I needed for dinner and checked out.
Walking back to my car, niggas were trying hard to get my attention, but I didn’t move like that. Plus, Gio wasn’t wrapped too tight.
I pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the block that helped raise Gio, when I had a feelin’ my nigga needed some blunts.
I pulled in front of a corner store and hopped out quick, not even realizing the group of niggas that was standing out front.
I walked past them, trying to pay them no mind, when one cleared their throat and opened the door for me.
“Here you go, sexy,” he said, looking me up and down.
I looked him up and down. “Umm, thank you…” And I walked inside.
I nodded to the clerk and walked toward the back, grabbing some water for Gio and me, when I heard the chime from the door and looked back to see that same nigga walking in.
I wasn’t nervous; I was just on my toes.
He moved to the back slowly, like he was trying to walk up on me, and I moved to the front, placed my water on the counter, and asked the clerk for a box of Dutch Masters. While I waited for them to make a box for me, I heard that same nigga clearing his throat behind me.
“I can pay for it, sweetie,” he said behind me.
I slowly turned around to face him.
“No thanks, I got it.”
The clerk rang up my shit, and I placed my handbag on the counter to dig through my purse and pull out a band of cash. I took the rubber band off and handed the man a twenty.
He smirked and chuckled under his breath, lookin’ at the man behind me.
“Yeah, buddy, I don’t think she needs your help for anything.”
I laughed, grabbed my change, and turned to walk away.
The nigga was lookin’ at me, but that smile on his face was slowly turning into a mean mug.
I walked out, hopped in my car, and did a U-turn in the middle of the street just to go to the street taco stand on the other side and get Gio and me some food.
But, as Gio would say, my nigga sense was going off. Even though I was feet away from the store, that one nigga still had his eyes on me as he walked to his car.
My eyes followed him. For some reason, I would not take my eyes off him. I smirked to myself. That nigga didn’t know who he was fuckin’ with.
He did the same thing I did in the middle of the street and parked behind me and sat in his car. The man was handing me my order, and I was walking back to my car by the time he tried to hop out.
I waited for a second, watching him walk up to the food stand while trying to look through my tinted windows.
I pulled off and headed down the street. Checking my rearview mirror periodically.