My heart started to race a little faster as I prayed that this gas would go faster. I was going to just get at least ten dollars in because that would hold me on the drive home. I could feel somebody coming up behind me, so I yanked the pump out. It dropped to the ground. Some of the gas got on my feet, and a little bit of it got on my legs.
“Watch out! Why the hell you pumping gas this late at night anyway? You know where the fuck you at, shorty?” that familiar, rude voice said to me.
I was bent down, trying to pick up the gas pump that I’d dropped, but he stepped over me and picked it up. It was Billion. I don’t know if I should say this, but he was once again coming to my rescue. My hands were still shaking. For a second, I really had to post my back against the car because this could have ended differently for me. This could have easily been one of those men who were standing over the car came behind me and would have possibly tried to snatch me up.
My eyes weren’t on Billion. Instead, they were too busy fixed on the boys who were still standing by the car.
He followed my eyes and turned around to see what I was looking at, and then he sucked his teeth.
“Yo, y’all little niggas go home! Y’all scaring the fuck out of the lady. Y’all done looked at my car long enough. Get the fuck off my shit before you get all them fuckin’ fingerprints on my shit!” he yelled out to the boys. He didn’t even have to say it a second time because instantly, all of them just took off running.
By this time, Billion had placed the gas pump back in the car and was letting it pump on its own. While it did that, he went over and grabbed a few napkins. I have to say that I was very shocked when he bent down and wiped off the gas that had gotten on my legs, and even the gas that was on my feet. I didn’t even say anything. I was just still trying to piece together what could have possibly happened.
Just like the last time I saw him, he looked nice. He was dressed in a black, gray, and white Nike windbreaker with the matching bottoms that he happened to be sagging in. I couldn’t see his perfect waves tonight because there was a black Nike hat on his head. Black huaraches were on his feet, and unlike the last time I saw him, he wasn’t flashy in his jewelry. Instead, he wore one simple chain around his neck, which was a Jesus piece, and when he talked, I could see his golds.
Being so close up on him again, I took in his flawless skin, how good he smelled—even though I could smell smoke on him—and just how big and strong he was. I looked down at him, and his light brown eyes were staring into me as he finally stood up and tossed the napkins in the trash. By this time, my gas had shut off, and he took out the pump and put it back where it belonged.
“Aight. You good on gas. This spot is a hot spot. I’m not sure how much you know about this part of town, but if this shit ain’t safe in the daytime, then imagine how unsafe it can be at night. I told you before how some niggas can act like fuckin’ savages when they see a woman in a dress,” he told me.
The dress that I wore today stopped right before my knees and had a slightly snug fit. My hair had been pulled up into a ponytail all day, but I had taken the ponytail out when I was backing out of the church parking lot.
“Thank you. I just need to go over there and put air in both of my front tires. The pressure in them is going down,” I told him.
He looked at me for a few seconds, and then he went over to my passenger side and examined the front tire.
“You got a nail right here in this one. Come here,” he said, and I walked over.
I bent down a little bit, and I could see the nail.
Billion walked in front of the car to examine the next tire. Funny how I was standing out there with him, and I wasn’t scared one bit. He just gave off vibes of protection. I personally knew that I was standing in one of the worst parts of Miami, but for whatever reason, I felt like I was okay because I was with him.
“You must have been driving where they were doing construction because you got a nail in this one too. My nigga got his own car shop about two blocks from here. You need new tires, ma. Both of these tires are fuckin’ bald. That shit is dangerous as fuck to be riding around with tires like that. Ima have him hook you up with new tires and an alignment. You’ll be good to drive the car down a couple of blocks,” he told me.
I gave him a look like I wasn’t too sure. I mean, I was comfortable around him, but not that comfortable.
He saw the way I was looking and released a sigh.
“I ain’t them thirsty ass niggas who were hounding you when you pulled up. You’re best friends with Twink, and that’s my cousin, but I swear she’s like my little sister. I know you mean a lot to her because she be talking to me about you all the time, so all I’m trying to do is look out and, at the same time, make sure you safe and shit. My face is good everywhere I go, so you ain’t gotta worry about nobody fuckin’ with you. You going to follow me there or what?” he questioned.
“Yeah, I’ll follow you,” I let him know.
“What’s good, Dru?” I said once my homie, Dru, of over twenty years answered the phone for me.
I was leaned back in my seat and talking to him through the Bluetooth in my car. This was a dude who I went way back with, a dude who put money on my books when I was locked up and had even come down to the prison to see me a few times. All of those were things that he wasn’t obligated to do, but because he was a real nigga, he did the shit anyway.
Dru was a couple years older than me, and I met him while I was in middle school. Lil bad ass nigga, just how I was growing up, plus we lived in the same projects. The brotherhood that we had over the years stemmed from him being around the way. He was in attendance the night I celebrated my welcome home party. He and his baby mama, Rajanae. Since we were youngins, he’d always been fascinated with cars and shit, so I couldn’t even say that I was surprised when I learned that he’d opened his own shop.
Just like me, Dru used to be real heavy in the streets. Also, just like me, a prison sentence is what had the nigga turning his life around. The fucked-up thing about his story is that he was picked up by them boys literally the day after his baby mama gave birth to their son. He went in before I went in, and when he was coming out, I was going in. I loved to surround myself with people who were on the same shit that I was on.
Dru was legit now. He was a stand-up guy and went over and beyond for his son. I felt like that’s what made certain people a man. I wasn’t going to be running with no deadbeat niggas who didn’t want to get off their ass to make a dollar.
“Shit. I’m at the shop. What’s good with you? Monterius told me about that pretty ass Porsche you just copped. When you going to let me put a sound system in that bitch? I know you want one,” he said, making me laugh.
Anyone who knew me knew that I had to have a good ass sound system in my car, with a pretty ass bass. I had purchased the Porsche a couple of days ago, basically just as a welcome home gift to myself. Not only that, but it was basically me rewarding myself for taking this real estate shit seriously. I kid you not, at two in the morning, I was not up fuckin’ no hoes. In fact, I was glued to the computer with a blunt hanging from the side of my mouth, and I was learning.
The property that Lenny showed me, I was in the process of getting it fixed up. Lenny pretty much knew all the plugs when it came to renovation, so he hooked me up with these Cuban cats who were going to renovate the whole spot. I didn’t just have expensive taste when it came to clothes, jewelry, and shit. When you grow up in the hood, I swear, you learn to have a desire for certain things, so I felt that I knew what came with making a beautiful house. I came up with every idea for that house on my own. Of course, I got a little inspiration from shit that I pulled up online, but for the most part, everything was all me. To renovate that house the way I wanted would take a couple of months, which is why I had two other projects that I was in the process of working on as well. Those two didn’t require as much work, so within a couple of weeks, I would put them on the market, and I was positive that they would sell at
my asking price.
“Soon. I’m in the corporate world, my nigga. I can’t come beating down to the white people neighborhoods, with my shit turned up like that. I gotta pull up playing light music with my windows rolled up and shit. I gotta fit in. Them niggas already telling me to take my golds out and put on a suit,” I said, making him crack up laughing on the other end of the phone.
“Nah, but on some real shit, I need a favor. I got a lil’ shorty following me, and she got two nails in her front tires. I don’t even need you to patch it for her. She needs new tires in general because both of her shits are fucked up. I know it’s late, and you probably getting ready to head out, but say your price, and I got you. Her shit is terrible, and driving on them tires like that is dangerous as fuck. She be going to work and shit, and I don’t want nothing happening to her, especially since I know it’s some shit wrong with her tires,” I voiced to him.
At the same time, I looked in my rearview mirror, just to make sure that she was still behind me, and she was. I had to make sure that her scary ass didn’t go in the other direction. Listen, I didn’t know what God had up his sleeve or what that man was trying to pull or tell me, but he kept putting me in situations where I was about to take a nigga’s head off their shoulders for fuckin’ with her.
Since I’d been home, I hadn’t even been in the city like that no more. I be on the other side of the bridge, taking care of business. Tonight, I was kicking it with my ole boy, and I decided to pull up to the gas station for some wraps because I didn’t have any in the car, and I was trying to roll up. I pulled up, and the lil niggas from around the way just started flocking to me, going on and on about how clean my new whip was. I kicked it with them for a little bit, and then I went inside to get the shit that I had come into the store for in the first place.
As I was walking out, I heard the lil niggas spitting crazy shit out their mouth to shorty across the street. At first, I didn’t know who the fuck they were talking to, but I remembered what her body looked like from the back. On top of that, she had that pink and green tag on the front of her car, so I knew it was her. God kept putting me in situations to be around this woman, so He was trying to tell me something.
“Who is shorty? I know you, Billion. You ain’t paying for no fuckin’ tires for the fuck of it. Awww man, let me find out,” he went on to say.
I laughed, still making sure that she was behind me, and she was.
“Nigga, you going to do the shit for me or not?” I asked, jumping over everything that he was saying.
“I got you, bruh. Bring shorty. Let me get a good look at her and see if she could possibly be Mrs. Billion,” this nigga said, still trying to be funny.
“Look too long, and you know Rajanae’s crazy ass will pull your damn eyeballs out, with her sick in the head ass. I’ll be there in two minutes,” I told him, and then I ended the call.
We pulled up to the shop, and I pulled over to the side. I let down my window and pointed for Normani to pull her car into the shop.
Dru came out and started directing her as well to come on up. I left my car in the parking lot and got out. I then pulled my pants up a little bit and walked over. At the same time, Normani was getting out of the car. I laughed because everyone she stood next to made her look extra tiny. I’ll be real and say that when it came to women, I loved a thicker woman. Just something about holding onto some thick ass thighs while I’m penetrating a woman from the front. I loved the feeling of a whole bunch of ass bouncing around on my dick. Something about a fat ass in a tight pair of jeans just brought out the worst in me, but looking at Normani, she was shifting what I liked. It was the way her little booty poked out when she stood up.
If she fucked with me, I was bound to put weight on her. Between my dick and my mama and my grandmother’s cooking, she would thicken up in no time. I knew it would never happen, though. She was too fuckin’ scared of me, and like I said before, I felt like we ain’t have shit in common. Shorty was in one of the worst parts of Miami, dressed in a black Calvin Klein work dress, Gucci sandals that she probably slipped on to rest her feet, and carrying a Celine purse over her shoulder. When I was standing close to her, I noticed that she had a simple Rolex on her tiny wrist. She wore Chanel perfume; I knew because my mama loved that expensive fragrance.
Her eyes landed on mine, and as much as I tried to front, I’d be cappin’ like a motha fucka if I said that she wasn’t the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen in my life. It was those gray eyes on her chocolate skin. It was the silky, curly hair and those crazy ass baby hairs; I loved that shit. Hell, it was even the sleepy look that she had on her face. It wasn’t a compliment to say that someone looked tired, but she really did look sleepy. It didn’t take away from her beauty, though.
“You got tires that’ll match the ones she already got?” I asked, walking up on Dru and giving him a pound.
Normani’s back was turned to us, so she didn’t see when Dru put up ten fingers, basically indicating that Normani was definitely bad and a catch.
I laughed at the nigga, waiting for him to let me know if he had tires that were going to match.
“Yeah, I got matches for her. Shorty, this black ass nigga looked out for you. He saved you a ticket from the police for riding around with these bald head ass tires, and he saved your life,” Dru told Normani.
She looked at me and smiled while she thanked me again. I waved her off because it really wasn’t a big thing.
“How long?” I asked him.
“Shit. You gonna have to give me at least an hour and a half,” he told me, and I nodded.
There was a Jamaican restaurant across the street called Donna’s. I loved me some Jamaican food, and this spot happened to be one of my favorites. They would be open for a few more hours, so I didn’t mind sitting in there and eating because I really hadn’t eaten shit besides the smoothie that I picked up this morning for breakfast. My stomach was rumbling. A nigga could use some oxtail, rice and peas, and cabbage.
“You hungry?” I asked Normani over the loud music that Dru had playing. It was him and two of his workers, who were both working on a car of their own.
“Kinda,” she voiced.
“What you mean, kinda? You hungry or not, Normani?” I asked her again. I could tell that she was shocked to hear me call her by her first name. I mean, how the fuck could I have forgotten it when Twinkle made it her business to talk about her to me every chance she got?
“I have to stay and watch my car,” she innocently told me.
“This like my fuckin’ brother. Ain’t nothing going to happen to your car. Come on. Let’s shoot across the street to get something to eat,” I told her, already walking away.
The ball was in her court, and she could follow if she wanted or stay out there and wait. She eventually started moving those little legs and caught up with me. Since the little restaurant was right across the street, we walked over. When we got on a sidewalk, I gently put my hand on her waist, putting her on the other side because ain’t no way I should have her walking on the side where the traffic comes. If a driver loses control of the steering wheel, I’d rather the car come for me than go for her. That comes with being a gentleman, which is some shit that a lot of niggas didn’t know about.
We made it to the restaurant, and I let Normani go inside first while I opened the door for her. It was quiet inside, maybe about four of the tables were occupied. I looked behind the counter and sucked my teeth when I saw Sidnesha’s flamboyant cousin, Roheem working in the kitchen area. I didn’t even know the nigga worked there.
He saw me and rolled his eyes.
I laughed while raising my hand and giving him the middle finger. Let me be the first one to say that I ain’t have no fuckin’ problem with no gay man. Live your fuckin’ life is the way I saw it. I wasn’t judging no fuckin’ body because it wasn’t my damn place to be doing no shit like that in the first place. Besides, if a nigga saw a problem with a gay man, then it was obvious that nigga lacked co
nfidence in himself. Why would another nigga living his life affect you in any type of way? I just didn’t like that slick ass mouth on that nigga. He’d always had a slick ass mouth. In the past, when I would go in his shit for talking to me crazy, he would scream that ‘How you gonna put your hands on a girl?’ shit. He was a man, and if he talked that crazy shit in here to me tonight, I’d slam his fuckin’ head into a fuckin’ wall.
“Welcome to Donna’s. What can I get you?” the young cashier with braces asked Normani and me.
“What you want?” I asked Normani, who was looking up at the menu, trying to figure out what she wanted.
“I’ll take the jerk chicken, white meat, with a garden salad. Italian dressing. Umm, do you have Perrier water?” her bougie ass asked the waitress, who let out a low chuckle and shook her head.
“Okay, then, I’ll just take regular water,” she said and then tried to pull her wallet out of her purse.
Again, I put my hand on her waist, lightly curved her ass out of the way, then got in front of her. None of that shit was about to happen while I was there. That shit wouldn’t even make me feel like a man if I offered a woman to get something to eat with me, yet I made her pay for her meal.
“Let me get a large oxtail, rice and peas, and double cabbage. Two pineapple sodas. Is it fresh? I don’t want some shit that’s been sitting there all day,” I voiced.
‘It’s fresh. The oxtail was just made not too long ago, and the jerk chicken just came off the grill,” she told me.
I nodded, pulled out a fifty from my wallet, and handed her the money. She gave me the change, which I put back into my wallet. I found a spot in the back of the restaurant for Normani and me to sit. We sat in a booth with her on one side and me on the other. She put her purse on the seat with her and threw her head back as she looked at me.
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