Lawlessly in Love

by Mercy B

  Sighing, I nodded in understanding. Thankfully, he eased back a bit, giving me the space to process the limp dick that I’d felt on my leg. That thing was the size of one of the healthy cucumbers that I preferred from the grocery store. Imagining it erect was too much for my little mind to digest, so I didn’t.

  “You look beautiful by the way.”

  “I like your teeth,” I retorted before closing my eyes and chastising myself. That was…

  “So fucking lame, baby girl. But I like that,” he completed my thought.

  “Where… Where are we going?”

  “Nothing has changed. You’ll see when we get there.”

  Underneath the porchlight, I could see the haze in his eyes. They were low enough to connect with one another, which made me wonder how he could even see—or function. Concluding his statement, he smiled and nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. His fangs were covered in diamonds, while the rest of his pearly white teeth were only outlined with silver; platinum seemed more suiting for a man of his caliber.

  “Open faces,” he spoke, extending his arm and insisting that I lead the way.

  “Pardon me?”

  “My teeth. They’re called open faces.”

  He was behind me, keeping a short distance as I walked down the small path that led from my home into my driveway. I was renting a two-bedroom home simply because it was cheaper than any apartment that I had applied for three years ago while a sophomore in college. It was apparent that the campus life didn’t agree with me, but I didn’t want to break myself by trying to afford housing. Instead, I chose rent that my refund check would cover at least three-fourths of and paid the remainder with my checks from work every month.

  I assumed he wasn’t paying much attention to my feet, because his eyes were occupied with my ass, and Sosa ran into the back of me after I’d stopped mid-stride. Confusion was evident on my face as I turned around to question his logic. The outdated Honda Accord sitting in my driveway couldn’t have belonged to the man that was just standing on my porch. Even in the photo he had sent, there was a large B on the grill of the car he was standing in front of.

  I prayed this wasn’t a situation where a young man was flaunting shit that wasn’t his own. It was the last thing I wanted to confront or had the time to deal with. I wasn’t opposed to dating middle-class men, but lower-class was pushing the perimeter. Personally, I was a decent enough woman in decent standing and could afford to choose whom I gave my time to.

  “Sosa, is it?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood off to the side, wondering what my next few words would entail. His wait wasn’t enduring or in vain, because I spat them out swiftly.

  “Is this the car that will take us to the real car?” I had to know. “Because—”

  “What’s your name, baby girl? I never got it.”

  The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. He hadn’t taken my name. “Gauge,” I replied, shifting my weight and becoming frustrated.

  “Gauge. I can fuck with that.” He nodded.

  “I asked a question,” firmly, I stated, not caring for the delay I was receiving.

  “And I plan to give you an answer when I’m ready.” He emphasized by shrugging.

  The stare-off commenced, me not budging and him not giving a flying shit about my sudden displeasure. It felt as if an eternity had elapsed before his lips parted, and his baritone reached my eardrums.

  “I’m that nigga whether I’m in a Bentley or a bucket,” he confirmed my suspicions. I was immediately relieved that I hadn’t overestimated his financial status because I would’ve been pissed at myself. I’d always been good at these types of things.

  “Flossing isn’t the only evidence of wealth, G.”

  G? I wanted to correct him, but the letter sounded so good rolling from his lips that I simply rolled with it. Without a response, I twirled on my heels and continued. He was right. Once I’d reached the car, I extended my hand to open the door but was startled by his warning.

  “Nothing will get you sent back in the house to think about your actions quicker than trying to put me out of a job. If I can’t at least open your door, then what am I good for?”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “My mother has turned over in her grave over enough shit I’ve done. I’m sure she’s trying to rest right now. My wish isn’t to disturb her tonight.” Sosa leaned forward and opened the door to the car and watched me slide in. “You good?” he questioned, standing outside of the car and looking down at me.

  “I’m sorry,” sympathetically, I responded with a saddened look displayed across my face.

  “For what?”

  “Your mother.”

  “Shit. I’m sure the dirt treating her better than this shitty as world ever could.”

  With that, he slammed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. I expected us to pull off immediately, but we continued to wait outside of my house after he’d started the engine of the car. At the sight of him slicing the gold foiled wrap with a small box cutter, I knew why the wait was necessary. He needed to roll himself another blunt.

  The thought of my hair smelling like a pound of weed occurred, and I wanted to scream. I’d just shampooed my hair and wouldn’t be needing another shampoo for at least a week under normal circumstances. However, with Mr. Sosa firing up in a few, the task would need to be tackled the following day.

  “G,” he started. “I’m about to tell you some shit that’ll probably upset you, but you’ll be aight.”

  “Should I ask for you to tell me what it is, or are you…”

  “I’m going to tell you anyway.” He tapped the grinder and distributed the orange hybrid marijuana buds across the paper.

  “Figures.”

  “Where we’re headed, you may want to slip on something more comfortable. I don’t have fancy reservations or nothing like that. I’m just winging it.”

  “What?” I heard him, but I was being sure that I’d heard him correctly.

  “Go change, G.” He placed the blunt to his mouth. “Throw on some jeans or something. Shit, I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t think it would’ve been appropriate to tell me this before you pulled up or even when I stepped out of my door?”

  “I’m a man, baby girl. A selfish one if I must admit. I wanted to see you in that dress.”

  “And after you saw me in it?” I asked, completely shocked at his revelation and reasoning.

  “I wanted to see you from behind.” Shaking his head, he chuckled at his own fuckery. “You locked your door too quick. This is your fault.”

  “My fault?” I screeched. “Just like a nigga.”

  “G, I’m going to be out here. Put on your favorite pair of jeans and a nice little top or something.” I’d only been in his presence for minutes, and the nonchalant attitude that he possessed was pissing me off and arousing me at the same time.

  Had this been anyone else, I would’ve returned to my home and not came back out. But I found myself locking my door for the second time within ten minutes of reentering my home. When I rested my ass in the seat, I noticed Sosa was rolling a second blunt with the first one still at his lips.

  “Better?”

  “Perfect.” He nodded, putting the unfinished blunt down and continuing to pull off the one he’d been smoking. “Here.” Sosa handed me the aux cord. “Put something on that you like. I’m certain my music won’t entertain you.”

  Chapter 3

  Sosa

  She was kicking my ass, but I couldn’t admit to caring. In fact, I didn’t. Even with my competitiveness, I allowed her to take the lead and talk her shit simply because I enjoyed it and wanted to see her smile. Given I didn’t know this girl from a can of paint, I wasn’t doing shit, and my nights usually only consisted of an old film and counting paper.

  My thoughts wouldn’t dispose of her after I’d seen her thick ass thighs and beautiful face in the picture she’d mistakenly sent me. Again, I wasn’t acquainted with t
his woman, but the thought of her entertaining another nigga while looking that damn good etched away at me. I’d put her to the back of my thoughts after the bizarre incident, but her friends kept my thoughts alive by continuing to vouch for their friend and bringing me even more entertainment in the form of photos, videos, and accolades of hers. Not to mention the fact that they referred to her as Mili.

  Though spelled differently and obviously wasn’t Gauge’s name, I was reminded of the dreams I’d been having of the beautiful woman lying across my bed that I referred to as my wife. In this game, there were a few things that I avoided—Cops, robbers, and women. Of course, I had my fun with the bitches that swung my way, but I could honestly say that I’d never even gone as far as taking a woman on a date.

  In my line of work, they weren’t to be trusted. I’d seen the most down bitches fold at the sight of trouble. The thought of doing a day in jail after maxing out bank accounts, buying the latest fashions, flying out on a minute’s notice, sitting courtside at games, making sure everyone knew that they were fucking a nigga with money had them bitches singing like the birds they were. It wasn’t a risk I’d been willing to take—still wasn’t.

  That’s exactly why I would punish the pussy after I let her beat my ass in bowling and bounce. No hard feelings, just hard dick that would make up for the asshole she’d gotten stood up by earlier. As I watched her bend over in the hip-hugging jeans and roll the ball, I silently thanked ole boy, whoever the fuck it was and wherever the fuck he was at.

  “I don’t hear much of that smart-ass mouth of yours now,” she boasted, swearing she was doing something.

  If only she knew that I could kick her ass with my eyes closed, she wouldn’t be so confident. Her skills weren’t even mediocre. She was trash. But women seemed most fun when they felt as if they had the upper hand, so I’d let her have that. As well, the nachos, snacks, and candy that I’d been consuming were soothing the massive hunger I possessed due to the munchies.

  “Can’t win ‘em all.” I stood and waited for the ball I preferred to come up. Someone from another lane and I were sharing it.

  “Ayo, Sosa,” I heard from behind.

  I whipped around to find my right-hand, Cayman, headed in my direction. Dismissing the thought of the ball, I posted as he made his way over. It was no surprise in running into him. Cayman and I were polar. While he was the life of the party, I was the owner of the club the party was being thrown in who never left his office or fraternized with the partygoers. That had never been my thing.

  “Nigga, I didn’t know you could stay out past curfew. It’s what? Eleven? And you out here enjoying life. That shit is unheard of.”

  “Well, listen closer, nigga.” I shrugged.

  “What’s good? What you got on the board?” Taking a peek at the scores, he found even more humor in my presence. “And you losing.”

  “By choice,” I assured him. “What’s good?”

  There were twenty-four hours in a day, and Cayman fucked around at least twenty of them. The other four, he was sleep. A comedian, clown, all of that could be used to describe him. Again, polar. Though I loved him, I was nothing like this nigga. We’d known each other since jits and were willing to ride for one another until the caskets dropped.

  While niggas called motherfuckers their friends just off their presence in their life, my list was simple. Plus one, and I was done. My definition of friend was a bit different from others, and my requirements were a bit extensive. To be frank, associates weren’t even my jam. Too many niggas equaled too many feelings. Too many feelings had never brought in too many figures for me. I’d gotten to where I was without obtaining them and had no plans of obtaining them before my casket dropped.

  Others measured friendship through time and cooperation. As for me, friendship was established the minute shit got ugly, or one was caught in a jam. How the motherfuckers you called your friends reacted was what set them apart from the rest. Cayman had been in the trenches with me, getting his hands dirty and never folding under pressure. He kept a shotty on him and was always itching to use it.

  “Shit. Ayo, who is ole girl with your girl?”

  “My girl.” I felt the crinkling of the skin on my face.

  “Nigga, you ain’t never brought a bitch a can of soda, and you out here tricking at the bowling alley where all the birds and wannabe ballers hang. You ain’t trying to be low-key. Ya more laxed than I’ve ever seen you. Shit, I think the frown lines around ya mouth done even disappeared a bit. Don’t front, nigga. Like I said. Who is ole girl with your girl?”

  “You’ve been the type to talk a whole bunch of shit without saying nothing.” I turned to find Gauge engaged in a conversation with a dark-skinned chick that was nearly the same size as her, only she was thicker with bolder features and lips too damned big for her face.

  While her body was something to see, she could use a few surgical procedures to acquire a face to match. She wasn’t necessarily ugly, but she definitely wasn’t the cutest thing either. Or, maybe it was because she was standing beside Gauge, who was insanely beautiful, which downplayed ole girl.

  Gauge was brown, like the paper bags I used to carry my dope in as a jit but not as dark. Her hair was big as shit, but I wouldn’t consider it a fro. Just a bunch of curls, which were blonde in color. I could imagine her putting those harsh chemicals in it to obtain the color she had.

  As well, I could conclude that she had something mixed with the melanin in her skin, possibly white, possibly Italian—one or the other, and I’d bet my last on it. The silkiness of her hair, softness of her skin, and the speckles of olive in her eyes told it all.

  “Find out for yourself, nigga. I’m up.” The ball I needed was being used, so I opted for a smaller one and ended up striking. “You up!”

  “Sosa. This is Brielle. Brielle, Sosa,” Gauge introduced us to one another. I recalled the name being mentioned in her initial message, which meant she was the one that Gauge was trying to contact.

  “Mr. Group Chat.” Brielle smiled.

  “Sosa. As she mentioned,” I corrected, not a fan of pet names.

  “Sosa.” Brielle nodded. “Okay, Gauge. You got you a feisty one.”

  “I’m sensing you prefer someone a bit more chill,” Cayman interrupted.

  “I like all kinds.” Brielle shrugged. “There’s no discrimination on my end. As long as they’re not looking for commitment. Just tried that shit.”

  “Sounds like I’m the man for you then. You here alone?”

  “Not exactly. I was invited by cowork—”

  “Go get ya shit. I’m here with a few of my people. We in lanes five and six.” Cayman was direct, shooting his shot and making the basket. Brielle was onboard. The look in her eyes said it all.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call that laid back, but I’ll take it. Mili, call me in the morning. I won’t keep your date waiting. Love you, babes.”

  “Love you more.” The two embraced before Gauge grabbed the ball of choice. “Are you always this mean?” she asked as Cayman walked off.

  “I’m just me, G.”

  “You’re pretty damn intense, Sosa. Brielle means no harm.”

  “I never said she did. I think you’re in some feelings that aren’t appropriate at the moment. As you wouldn’t want your friend to change to accommodate me, I won’t change to accommodate her. All is good. She seems like cool peeps from the messages I’ve gotten. But still. I can’t be anyone but myself, regardless of who that rubs the wrong way.”

  “You’re right. You just seem… so uptight when people—”

  “Ain’t a people person. Not even my homie got a warm welcome from me. That’s just the way it is.”

  “Well, you seem quite accommodating to me.”

  “To you, G. I’m accommodating to anyone I want to fuck.” Bluntness had always been my strong suit. Sugarcoating wasn’t a task I had mastered, yet.

  “Excuse me?” Her small, button nose curved, and the center of her forehead dented as h
er cheeks rose and mouth dropped.

  “Don’t be so surprised. It’s a thing that women and men do,” I reminded her with a chuckle, my easiness seeming to cause an issue as well. While she was uptight, my posture nor demeanor had been altered.

  “And that is all that you want from me?” Gauge was disgusted with my confession, but it was truthful, and that’s all she’d get from me. The truth.

  “Na. If that was it, then we wouldn’t have made it off of the porch. I’m a resourceful man. I get what I want.” Shaking my head, I encouraged her to take her turn.

  “So what exactly do you want? Because I’m quite confused. I thought you only wanted to take me out on a date.” She wouldn’t let up.

  “Yeah. Take you out on a date and then fuck.” I shrugged.

  “That’ll never happen,” she sassed, grabbing her purse and heading for the exit.

  If that makes you feel any better, I’ll let you think that. I followed behind her, happy that our time at the alley had come to a screeching halt. This date wasn’t a social affair, and I wasn’t up for unnecessary conversation.

  “I can’t even believe you’d think I’d stoop low enough to do such a thing. Fuck you on the first date? That’s absurd.”

  Gauge

  “Ma, is you gone suck it or not?” His tenor was low and desperate. It was his second time asking, jarring me from my sudden slumber and reminding me that we had crossed that mark, and there was no recanting. He’d been relentless in his pursuit, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t want to oblige anyway.

  I’d fussed the entire way home, refusing to let him walk me to my door, but he’d made his way up the walkway anyhow. After confessing my displeasure for his rudeness and inconsideration, I found myself lip locked and insanely aroused as Sosa planted firm kisses on my neck while admitting that he had better usage for my mouth.

  “I may actually like you,” he’d sprung on me in the heat of the moment. “And once I give you something to calm your little ass down, I can apologize for my inconsideration—as you call it. And possibly make it up to you by letting you choose the venue on our second date tomorrow.”