Love's Grip

by Nika Michelle

  There were no cars in Capri’s driveway, but there was a garage. I wondered if Rae had parked inside it. The spot was dark as hell, though, so I figured either there was nobody there or they were fucking. Either way, I needed that nigga to show his face so I could blow it off his damn neck. I didn’t care if he was pulling out of that bitch or pulling up.

  I despised niggas like Rae. They lived the street life and pretended to be all hard, but they would put their hands on a woman. Maybe he was mad that he was under G’s command, and his lack of power made him feel inferior. I guessed mentally and physically abusing a defenseless female made his soft, lame ass feel more powerful.

  The thing about me was, I may not have ever given my heart to a woman, but I hadn’t ever ripped a woman’s heart out, either. I felt that the least I could do was let them know where I stood. If they didn’t want to deal with it, that was cool with me, and if they did, that was cool too.

  I’d been sitting there waiting for over an hour, and nothing eventful had happened. I had thought about breaking into that bitch, but I didn’t want to chance it, as that nigga might not be there. Capri wasn’t my target, and I didn’t believe in hurting innocent children. I was aware that a child lived there. I was waiting for Rae, so I could just run up on his ass. If his bitch found his ass lying on the steps, in a pool of blood, I didn’t give a fuck about that.

  “Fuck it,” I said out loud, figuring that I could come back and case the spot again the next night.

  It was crucial that I got rid of that nigga, not only for Daisha’s sake, but for mine too. I wasn’t going to rush it, though. That shit had to be done right, because I couldn’t risk my freedom or my life. With my gun in my lap, I hit the gas and pulled out of my secure parking spot.

  Shots rang out.

  The gunshots were loud as hell and came out of nowhere. They didn’t stop. In the pitch-black darkness, I couldn’t see where they were coming from. This didn’t stop me from sticking my strap out the window. My shots were aimless, but I was hoping they’d make the shooter run for cover. After taking about a dozen shots, I pulled my weapon back in. A few seconds later, the crashing sound of my back window being shot out made me duck down. The windshield shattered as the bullets exited my car. I tried driving erratically to dodge the shots, but they kept coming. I aimed my weapon out the window again as I kept driving.

  By the time I bent the corner, I didn’t know if my tires had been shot out. I had no clue if I’d shot whoever was shooting at me. It had to be that nigga Rae. He had to have realized that I was out there waiting, stalking him like the killer I was. That shooting shit had knocked me off my square, because I hadn’t expected it. I deduced that he was inside the house and his car was parked in the garage. G’s murder must’ve had him on guard, or he wouldn’t be bucking at me and shit.

  The gunshots finally stopped. I kept on driving, and it became obvious to me that my tires were still intact. Suddenly, I felt something warm oozing down my arm. When I glanced over, I saw blood dripping down to my pant leg. My heartbeat increased. I couldn’t see the wound. If I’d been shot, why didn’t I feel it? The adrenaline rush must have made me numb. Or maybe I hadn’t been shot. Maybe I’d been cut by glass from the broken windows. Shit. I damn sure hoped it was the glass. My crib was less than thirty minutes away, but would I make it? Not knowing the extent of my injury made me wonder if I would bleed out first. That thought made me press the gas pedal harder.

  *

  “Pistol! Oh my God! You’re bleeding!”

  Daisha rushed over and grabbed me as I staggered through the door. I think I’d underestimated the amount of blood that I was losing. Her face went pale as she stared at me.

  “What happened?” she asked as she led me over to the sofa and sat me down.

  I just shook my head. I felt weak as she pulled my shirt off and examined my back.

  “You were shot! You have to go to the hospital!” Her voice was frantic. “C’mon. Let me take you. Now!”

  “No.” I shook my head again. “I can’t go to a fuckin’ hospital.” My speech was slurred, and I knew that was a sign that I was bleeding too much. “It’s probably just a flesh wound.”

  “No, it’s not just a flesh wound! I don’t see an exit hole, Pistol. The bullet is still …”

  “Well, you gon’ have to get it out,” I said weakly.

  “What? Oh, hell no. I don’t know how to do no shit like that… .”

  “It’s just a lot of blood, Daisha. I’m still good. I’m sure that the bullet isn’t too far in and hasn’t messed up anything major. There’s a first-aid kit … in the bathroom, under the sink. Go get that, and some towels and some ice. I’ll tell you how to do it. Okay? Oh, and grab that bottle of Henny out the kitchen too.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Try to keep pressure on it.” Her face looked like she was in pain. Tears filled her already puffy eyes, and I felt awful.

  How the hell had I let that nigga shoot me?

  Daisha stood there, watching me. “You really should let me take you to a hospital,” she said. “I can’t do this.”

  “Go do what I said, Daisha.”

  The tears fell as she shook her head at me. “But if you don’t go to the hospital, you might … die! What if the bullet did more damage than you think?”

  “If I go to the hospital, I’m goin’ to prison,” I reminded her.

  She scurried off without saying another word.

  My vision was blurry as I watched her leave the room. A few seconds later everything faded to black.

  Chapter 13

  Daisha

  I returned to the living room after gathering everything that he had told me to. By the time I made it back, he was out like a light on the sofa, which made me extremely concerned. I immediately poured some of the liquor on the wound before applying pressure to it with a towel. It was a good thing his sofa was leather, because he was leaking blood on it.

  “Pistol! Shit! Wake up! Wake up! Please!” I yelled.

  He was breathing, but it sounded shallow as hell. I wished that nigga had let me either take him to the hospital or call an ambulance. I popped the first-aid kit open as my heartbeat sped up to the max. Damn, I’d never been so nervous and afraid in my life. If that nigga died, I would never forgive myself. I should’ve dragged his big ass to the car and taken him to the hospital, anyway.

  When I poured rubbing alcohol into the wound, he suddenly came to.

  “Argh! Oh shit,” he yelled and bit down on the throw pillow that he was clutching. “Fuck!”

  I looked closely at his wound and could see the bullet glistening right there under his shoulder blade. He was right. It wasn’t that bad. At least, it wasn’t a hollow-point bullet. In that case the damage would’ve been worse. The bullet was intact and looked like it could be easily removed. The blood just made the wound seem worse than it was.

  I relaxed. “I see the bullet. So, what do I do now?”

  “Use the tweezers and dig it out.” His voice was strained, and I could tell that shit hurt like hell.

  He gritted his teeth, and I did what he said. More blood gushed out, but he took that shit like a champ. The bullet wasn’t budging, though. It was lodged in his muscle, tight as hell.

  “Mmm … hold up, Ma.” He tried to stop me, but I kept right on trying.

  Less than a minute later, I had the bullet out, and he looked like he was in agony. However, he was still taking it well.

  “You been shot before?” I asked as I cleaned the wound and covered it with gauze.

  Pistol nodded. “Three times.” He pointed to a faint scar on his stomach. “The other time was in the leg.”

  “You’re blessed,” I told him as I pressed the tape against the gauze to keep it in place.

  “Because I’ve been shot three times?” His eyebrow shot up.

  I couldn’t help but laugh through the tears that threatened to fall. “No. Because you survived.”

  He looked relieved. “Give me that bottle of Henny.”
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  I handed the bottle to him. He drank from it, and then he offered me some. Damn, I sure needed it.

  As I chugged a shot of the liquor, he asked, “You know how to roll a blunt?”

  “Yeah.” That shit burned the hell out of my throat, but I took one more shot before passing him the bottle back.

  He told me where his stash was and where he had stashed a few Percocet. I guessed he needed everything he could get for the pain.

  “So, what happened?” I asked when I got back to the living room.

  While I rolled a blunt, he filled me in, and I couldn’t believe it.

  “What? But … ,” I said.

  “I know. I thought I was prepared for that nigga, but … I underestimated him.”

  “But what if it wasn’t him? That bitch Capri is plum crazy too. If she thinks somebody is after her man, she comes for them just like a nigga would. She’s s’posed to be part of some crew of chicks who gangbang and sell heroin. That bitch should be thinkin’ ’bout her son, but she on that street shit. I know for a fact she carries a gun. That’s why I got one. She threatened to shoot me over that nigga so many times. I had to let her know that I be strapped too.”

  He looked shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “Number one, because I didn’t think this would happen, and number two, you left pissed off at me.” I finished rolling the blunt and then lit it.

  “I wasn’t pissed off at you. I was frustrated. You don’t know what you want, Ma. You flip-flop all the time. One second, you good wit’ me, and the next second, you actin’ like a nigga kidnapped you.”

  “And you act like I asked you to kill that nigga Rae for me,” I countered. “You left talkin’ ’bout you gon’ kill him for me so I can move on wit’ my life. It’s like you act like you’re only doin’ me a favor. To be honest, if you kill him, you will be, but it would be to your advantage too. I feel like you’re holding it over my head, like I asked for your help. I don’t want to go into another situation feeling obligated. I just need some time before I jump into something else… .”

  “You already jumped into something else, Ma, whether you wanna admit it or not. The way you feel for me is clear in your eyes. I don’t give a fuck what you say.”

  He stared at me, and my whole body quivered. Damn. He could see right through me. It was a shame that I was that transparent to him.

  I decided to change the subject as I passed him the blunt. “Are you sure you’re good, yo?”

  He popped two Percocet and then took another sip of Henny. “I’m straight, Ma. The bullet’s out, so I’m good.”

  “But that doesn’t mean …”

  He used all his strength to lean over and kiss me. The kiss was deep, and the soft sweetness of his tongue literally made me dissolve into a puddle of mush. How was he doing that to me? Why was I so damn weak for him? His lips were so plush and warm against mine. Just the way my body seemed to weaken at his touch was enough to let me know that I was losing the battle.

  “Stop fightin’ what you feel, Daisha. I know that you’re down for us one minute and against us the next, because you don’t wanna repeat history. Well, I don’t wanna repeat history, either. I wanna give love a chance.”

  His arms were around my waist now, holding me tightly. He laid his head on my breasts like a little boy and drifted off to sleep. The moment was so pure, honest, and sweet. I just sat there for a while, enjoying the masculine scent of his cologne. The rhythm of his breathing was like music to my ears. Thank God he wasn’t killed. If he hadn’t come back, I would’ve lost it completely.

  Eventually, Pistol seemed to get heavier and heavier on me by the minute. His snoring was getting louder too. I somehow managed to crawl out from under the crushing weight of Pistol’s body without waking him. I cleaned the blood off the sofa and then covered him up with a blanket before I headed to the bedroom and got in his bed. It wasn’t like I could lift him up and carry him to the bed. I also knew that the pain pills mixed with the alcohol and the weed would have him knocked out for a while. The thing was, I was worried about him. What if the wound got infected?

  That nigga was hardheaded as hell. He wasn’t willing to go to a hospital. I understood why, though. Hospitals reported cases involving gunshot wounds to the authorities. Pistol couldn’t afford to get caught. He had told me before that he’d rather die than go to prison for the rest of his life. The thought made my eyes sting with tears.

  I had to turn the television on to distract myself from my nagging thoughts. Every bad scenario had played out in my head when Pistol was gone, and I was starting to revisit them now. To think that I was falling in love with someone who I knew would be taken from me one way or another. It was like I was a glutton for punishment, but life was too short not to experience true love. Like Pistol had said, whether it be temporary or for a lifetime, I should take it for what it was. That nigga’s grip on me was something serious.

  *

  The next morning, I was up early and set about whipping up breakfast. Pistol was still snoring lightly on the sofa, and I wanted to make sure he had something hot to eat when he woke up. He would need to get his strength back up. After his plate was made, I put it on a tray and poured him a huge glass of water and a small glass of orange juice. I put the two glasses on the tray and then carried it into the living room.

  “Wake up, handsome.” I sat the tray down on the coffee table. “Pistol!” I gently shook him, and his eyes fluttered open.

  “Mornin’.” He frowned as he tried to sit up.

  “Take it easy.” Once he was sitting upright, I picked up the tray and put it on his lap. “Eat this.”

  He looked up at me. “Thanks, baby girl. I’m starvin’.”

  “Well, you did lose a lot of blood. I cleaned everything up. When you’re done eatin’, I have to clean your wound again and change the gauze.”

  He nodded. “A’ight. Uh, thanks for last night.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Pistol.”

  I turned and went back to the kitchen to fix my plate. By the time I got back, his plate was empty and the television was on.

  “That was good,” he said before gulping the water down.

  “You want more?”

  He smiled and then winced as he stood up. “Nah. I’m good. If I eat more, I’m gonna just go back to sleep.” With a chuckle, he rubbed his belly. “I’m gonna go take a shower, and then you can change the gauze and shit. I need to get out there and find out if that nigga’s still alive. There gotta be a way for me to get to his ass if he is. It ain’t like I got a crew out here, and I don’t really know if I wanna involve Mike and Dank.”

  “Do they know that you went after Rae last night?”

  “Nah. I didn’t tell them shit.”

  I nodded. “Okay, well, just be careful. Like I said, that bitch Capri’ll shoot too.”

  He shook his head. “They definitely won’t catch a nigga slippin’ this time. I gotta go get a car too. If you see all the holes in that mu’fucka …”

  With that said, he walked off to take his shower, and I said grace before eating my food. The sound of the television was merely background noise. All I could think about was the fact that Pistol seemed consumed with the thought of getting Rae. I thought it would be best if he took it easy for the day, but I knew that he wasn’t trying to hear that.

  That still didn’t stop me from making up my mind about it. I’d have to talk to him. In my opinion, it was too soon for him to go anywhere. I also felt he should be in tip-top shape when he did go after Rae, as I was sure that Rae was even more prepared after the shoot-out they’d had last night. Whether he or Capri did the shooting, Rae had to know that Pistol was after him. Even if he didn’t know who Pistol was, he knew that it was somebody. Rae was a punk-ass nigga who wouldn’t fight a man straight up but would beat on a woman. Of course he was going to shoot first and ask questions never.

  When Pistol walked back in the living room, his swag was back on in full effect. I had
to smile about that, because shit could’ve really gone left the night before. I cleaned his wound, which looked a lot better already, put a new piece of gauze over it, and then taped it.

  “Uh, can you sit down and talk to me for a second before you … leave?” I asked when I was done with the wound care. I plopped down on the sofa and patted the spot next to me.

  “Yeah. What’s up, beautiful?” He sat down beside me on the sofa and then kissed me on the cheek.

  “I think you should chill for now. It’s like you’re obsessed with killing Rae. You need to let me take care of you until you’re good. Then go out there and continue where you left off.” My eyes were anxious as I looked over at him pleadingly.

  “I’m sorry, Ma, but I can’t waste any time. I know you’d rather I stay here and lay low, but I can’t. I gotta get back out there and find out what’s goin’ on. One li’l bullet ain’t stop no show. I ain’t no weak nigga.”

  I rolled my eyes at his hardheadedness. “It’s not that you’re weak, but you are human. I bet your mama can’t even tell you nothing.”

  He chuckled good-naturedly. “Nope. I need you to relax and let me handle shit. You don’t need to worry ’bout me. I’m gon’ be fine… .”

  “You said that last night but came back up in here literally bleeding to death,” I reminded him.

  “I got this. Okay? Besides, that shit wasn’t that bad.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “But promise me you won’t go after Rae and you’ll just get information for now. That’s the least you can do for me, since you won’t go to a hospital.”

  “Mike is outside. He’s gonna take me to get a car. Somebody will be here to tow the other car a little later.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a huge wad of money that was wrapped with a rubber band. He held it out to me. “Go get your hair and nails done. Get a massage or whatever. Just don’t worry your pretty little head about me.”