Married to the Game

by Chunichi

  The sweetness had just flown out the window when I admitted my plans to Duke. There was something about Ceazia that Duke just didn’t like. I didn’t know what it was about her, but Duke despised me being around her. He even hated the sound of her name. I asked over and over again why he disliked Ceazia so much, and all he could tell me was that she was trouble or that she couldn’t be trusted or that she was shiesty. But he never gave me anything concrete to help explain why he said those things.

  Duke had pissed me off with his attitude, so I gave him one right back. “Duke, I’m going out with both of my friends tonight! And I’ve started back fucking with Gina as of today,” I said before hanging up.

  I didn’t want to give Duke anymore room for rebuttal. My mind was made up, and I didn’t want him to blow my excitement with more negative thoughts. I knew me hanging up the phone on him was grounds for more argument. But at least I knew that would have to wait because I remembered Duke mentioning he was taking care of some business when I called.

  With a wonderful night ahead of me, I opened my closet doors and sat on the bed. I’d arranged my closet so perfectly that all I had to do was sit on the bed and open both sides of the closet and I could see everything. I had my shoes in plastic boxes with pictures on each, my belts hanging from tie racks, and clothes sorted by item. All the jeans were together, short sleeve shirts, cargo pants, long sleeve shirts, dresses—it was perfect. It took me no time to find the perfect outfit for myself. Now it was time for Gina.

  Since Gina had the baby, we were around the same size. Always wanting to show emphasis on the good stuff and hide the bad, I chose stretch jeans for Gina rather than the Donna Karan outfit I originally had in mind. She finally had an ass, and I wanted her to flaunt it, but she also had a small pudge in the front that we needed to hide. Stretch jeans were perfect for that because it gripped the ass just right but squeezed the tummy. Then I found her a perfect baby-doll top to show off her breasts and again hide the pudge. The top was a tube, cupping her breasts, but the bottom flowed like a shirt dress. The outfit was perfect. Now she just needed the perfect accessories. I prayed she had some nice sandals and a bag. I could help her with a purse, but sandals were out of the question. Gina had feet the size of Andre the Giant. I crossed my fingers and called her up.

  “Hello?” she answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, girl. I found the perfect outfit for you, but I just need to know if you have some white sandals and a bag to match.”

  “Yeah, I think so. I haven’t been anywhere in so long, I’m not sure what I have anymore,” she said pathetically.

  “Okay, cool. Well, take a look and if not, just let me know what you do have. Maybe we can work with that.”

  “All right, girl. I’m going to take a quick nap. Just call me before you come,” she stated before hanging up.

  CHAPTER 17

  FOREVER HAUNTED

  GINA

  I looked in my closet to find shoes and a bag. It had been so long since I’d gone anyplace nice, that I wasn’t sure what I owned anymore. I reluctantly searched through the clothes and shoes that were thrown all over the floor. At least a year had passed since I last went through that stuff. I’d made it a custom of wearing sweatpants, T-shirts and sneakers on a regular basis.

  I searched as though I was looking for a pot of gold, throwing old shoes and clothes in every direction. I came across things that I hadn’t seen in years. I smiled as I picked up one of RJ’s newborn tees. Staring at that tee made me remember how small and precious RJ was as a newborn. He was, and always had been, everything I could imagine my child to be. I hugged the picture of my son, admiring how much RJ resembled his dad at birth, and even more so now.

  I soon came across a picture of me and BJ. I was surprised to see how much she and I had changed in our appearances.

  “Wow, was I small back then!” I stated as I took a moment to examine my small frame.

  I continued to search, finding everything except a nice pair of sandals and a bag. I was deep inside my closet near the final corner; there was no hope. Just as I was about to give up, I came across a Bloomingdale’s shopping bag. I wondered where it could have come from as I pulled it out. I was sure I never purchased anything there. Hell, Norfolk didn’t even have a Bloomingdale’s, and I hadn’t been outside the Seven Cities my entire life.

  Maybe it’s something that belongs to my mom, I thought as I opened the bag. There were two large wrapped gifts, a smaller gift, and a card. I opened the bag with caution, starting with the card. It was a birthday card signed from Ray-Ray. Tears began to well in my eyes as I opened the gifts. It was sandals with a matching bag, and a necklace with a diamond locket. I opened the locket to find a picture of Ray-Ray and me inside.

  I sat on the floor, thinking. It was my birthday gift from Ray-Ray, and it had been sitting in my closet since his death. He must have hid it from me, but he never got to tell me because he was killed. This was a pleasant surprise, but I still couldn’t believe it. It’s crazy how things come together.

  I called BJ to tell her the news. She was just as stunned as I was about the revelation.

  “Gina, you’ve got to be kidding me. Really? After all this time, you’re just now finding your birthday surprise?” BJ pondered.

  “Yes, and I know it sounds strange, but I just had no idea Ray-Ray had hidden these things so far back in the closet. Had you not asked me to go out, I still wouldn’t have found the bag.”

  “So, talk. How do you feel? Are you happy?”

  “Yes. But I also feel guilty, BJ.”

  “Why, Gina? You are my girl, and I wish for things to be the way they used to be between us. You can still talk to me.”

  I sighed before answering BJ. “Ray-Ray pissed me off after I gave him the news of my pregnancy. After thinking long and hard about how upset he made me, I tried to call him to set things straight. Once I reached him, I could hear faint sounds of what sounded like Ray-Ray and another woman having sex. I later realized he wasn’t betraying me after all. What I heard was his dying words to me.” I began to cry. BJ tried to calm me down.

  “Gina, everything is going to be okay. Talk it out. What did Ray-Ray say to you?”

  I continued to sob in between breaths. “He ... said ... he ... told... me ... he ... loved ... me.” I could barely speak as my voice trembled through my sadness.

  “Gina, everything is going to be okay. I understand that accepting Ray-Ray’s death is a bit hard, but I also know that he still lives.”

  I was confused. “Huh? What are you talking about, BJ?”

  “Don’t you feel him? Don’t you see him, Gina? When you hold the beautiful son you birthed into this world, don’t you feel close to Ray-Ray?”

  “Yes. I know what you mean, because I do see Ray-Ray when I look into my baby’s eyes.”

  “I know you do, because I can see him too. Please try to be strong, Gina. RJ needs you.”

  BJ and I spent more moments on the phone lifting each other up. After our conversation, I couldn’t help but reflect back to the day Ray-Ray was killed. I remembered the dreadful phone call I received from BJ.

  I thought you may want to know Ray-Ray has been shot. He’s here at the hospital and he’s in critical condition. He’s ... he’s ... not going to make it, Gina. He’s not going to make it.

  BJ just couldn’t understand how much those words haunted me every day. There were so many things that reminded me of Ray-Ray. I looked at the picture of us in the locket then thought of our son, RJ. He looked just like his father, and I knew Ray would have been a wonderful father. We would have been a perfect little family. I would have given my son everything I never had. Me and Ray would have given RJ all the love and care I never had.

  All the events in the past hour had become overwhelming, so I took a generous amount of my prescription medications in an attempt to take a little nap before our night out. It had become routine for me to take sleeping pills and Prozac on a daily basis, sometimes two or three times. A
fter Ray-Ray’s death, I couldn’t function properly. I wasn’t eating like I should, and a good night’s sleep was almost impossible due to nightmares. I couldn’t even communicate well anymore. I mainly stared at people, unable to bring myself to talk without crying, so my mom admitted me to the local crisis unit. After months of counseling and for the sake of my child, I was finally able to live a regular life with the help of plenty of daily medications. Little did people know that my sleeping pill, in great doses, was how I managed to cope with things.

  Dear God, please take this pain away from me. Dear God, please take this pain away from me. I repeated as I tried to fall asleep. This too had become a nightly routine. Nothing could fill the void in my heart, and when I’d drift off to sleep is when my heart would ache the most. The nightmares kept the memory of Ray-Ray’s death fresh. The continuous pain of losing him was like no other pain I ever felt before. It hurt, it ached, and it was a pain so deep any amount of medication or level of sedation I tried couldn’t ease it. So, I steadily increased the amounts of meds, hoping I’d soon find the needed dosage.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks each time I thought of Ray-Ray. I called his phone every day, sometimes twice a day, knowing there would be no answer, but with hopes there would be. I never disconnected his phone, just so I could hear his sweet voice. Yet each time the voice mail answered, it was a constant reminder he was gone. He was no longer here with me; he was no longer sleeping in my bed next to me. I rolled over and there was no warm body beside me, yet there was a fresh scent of D 8v G cologne on my pillowcase. I kept a bottle of the cologne and sprayed it on the pillow each night, just as another desperate attempt to fall asleep. But again, that too just became another reminder he was gone. I hugged the pillow tight as I fell asleep. It was a feeble replacement for the man that would usually lay there.

  Ring, ring!

  I jumped at the sound of the telephone with hopes of seeing the words WIRELESS CALLER across the screen of the caller ID. Instead, it read something other. I ignored the remaining rings as the realization sank.

  It isn’t him, and it never will be him.

  These tears would always burn my face at night, the scent of his cologne would always haunt me, my heart would remain empty, and I would continue to pray each night, Dear God, please take this pain away from me. Dear God, please take this pain away from me. Dear God, please take this pain away from me.

  CHAPTER 18

  GIRLS GONE WILD

  BJ

  I called Gina’s house for the twentieth time. Each time I called, her voice mail came on. I knew things were too good to be true. All she had to do was tell me she no longer wanted to go out. I didn’t even bother leaving her a message. I just got dressed and headed straight to the club. I was determined to have a good night, with or without Gina. As soon as I pulled up to the club, I noticed C standing out front.

  “Hey, girlie!” I yelled as I parked the car and headed toward her.

  “Hey, Li’l Momma,” she stated, giving me a tight hug and a long kiss on the cheek as though she hadn’t seen me in years. C always seemed to be so touchy-feely. She had to be the most affectionate female I knew.

  C continued to introduce me to all of her friends, who all were very pretty and dressed very nice, I must add. I felt privileged to even be welcomed around such a high-class clique.

  Once in the club, eyes immediately were on us. Guys began to flock from every direction. I’d never seen anything like this before. I felt like a celebrity. Not once did we even go to the bar. Guys were sending drinks to our table left and right. We had everything from continuous glasses of Hypnotiq and Absolut to bottles of Moet sent to our table. I was loving it! It wasn’t long before the combination of alcohol and reggae had me going. After one last drink, none of us could sit still any longer.

  Everyone headed to the dance floor, full of energy. Once on the floor we all moved to the tunes of the reggae rhythms, once again drawing the attention of everyone in the club. I observed the sexy moves C did as she danced seductively. I was intrigued with how precisely she moved her hips. It seemed so natural. I studied every move, making a mental note. As she danced, I noticed one of her girlfriends come behind her and dance along. Then I looked at the other girls to see if they noticed, but to my surprise, they were doing the same. Unsure how to react, I left the dance floor in a hurry. I immediately went to the bar to order a bottle of water. I figured maybe I was a little too drunk and needed to sober up a bit. Maybe things weren’t how they seemed. I could have been overreacting. I sipped my water slowly as I stood at the bar alone.

  “Wha gwan?” a sexy baritone voice said to me in patois.

  “Hi,” I said, timidly examining the fine, dark Jamaican man that stood before me. His skin was as dark as rich chocolate and his smile was as white as snow. His broad six-foot frame towered over me as he spoke.

  “So yuh down like di gal dem yuh roll wit?” he asked, confirming things were just as they seemed. So it wasn’t the alcohol, after all. I wasn’t tripping. That explained C’s affectionate side.

  “No, I don’t get down like that,” I replied very sternly, in an attempt to let him know ain’t shit jumping off.

  “Yeh, mi would like fi give yuh mi number,” he offered.

  “Hey, Judah,” Storm, one of Ceazia’s friend’s, said seductively while pinching him on his side and interrupting our conversation.

  “Whappen, Storm? Whappen, Cinnamon?” he responded with little emotion then directed his attention back to me.

  I noticed he greeted C by her stage name, which could only mean one thing. He knew her from the strip club.

  “Wha yuh name?” the sexy Jamaican asked.

  “Her name is BJ, and she is too young for you,” Storm snapped while putting her arm around my neck as though she was protecting me from some sort of beast.

  “Wha mek yuh so sure?”

  “’cause she’s Cinnamon’s little sister. Besides, you need someone in the major leagues for the games you like to play,” Storm responded while giving him a seductive look.

  By this time, the whole entourage was off the dance floor and surrounding us. They all seemed to know Judah, as they called him, very well. Although he didn’t seem too interested in any of them, they all flocked around him and he purchased each one of them a drink. Tired of all the commotion from the night, I decided it was time to go home. I said my good-byes to everyone and headed out.

  Once in my car, I pulled out my cell phone and called Duke. Like every other time I called, he didn’t answer.

  There was a knock at my window, nearly scaring the hell out of me. I looked up and saw Judah.

  “What’s up?” I asked as I cracked my window just enough to talk.

  “Whappen, yuh nuh have mi number.”

  Since I already had my phone out, I took his

  number and promised to call. Before leaving, he told me I could find him at this club every Thursday through Saturday, to give him a call and he’d let me in free. I was flattered by his kindness.

  When he left, I pulled off and tried calling Duke’s phone over and over again. The entire ride to my house I called him, but there was no answer. This time, I didn’t even bother calling his business phone. Once I got in the house, I took a bath and tried calling Gina to tell her how much fun she missed out on. Again, I only got her voice mail. I began to think it was me. Maybe she really wasn’t feeling me after all. Well, I knew she would have to come for RJ, and I’d just wait to speak to her then.

  Since I was still awake, I made another hopeless attempt to contact Duke. I tried to force myself to sleep as I thought about the events of the night. I reminisced about how it felt to be on top of the world and to have all eyes on me in the club. I played C’s dance moves over and over in my head as I mimicked them while I lay on the bed. Then I thought about Jamaican Judah and how sexy he was as he spoke to me in his baritone voice. His attire wasn’t the average Rasta attire I’d often seen on many reggae music videos. Instead, he dressed very ne
atly and wore the latest labels. I figured he was involved with the club somehow. He seemed to be pretty popular among the club-goers and quite generous with the patrons as well. Normally, I wouldn’t have taken his number, but how could I refuse such a sexy, well-mannered man?

  After several minutes of thinking, I still was not able to force myself to sleep, so I tried calling Duke one last time. But this time his phone was off; straight to voice mail every time. That was the last straw. I only had one option left—go by his house. I hopped up and threw on a sweatsuit and headed out the door. I was at his house within ten minutes. I circled the neighborhood twice for surveillance before pulling into his court. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I pulled up.

  “Please don’t let this be as it seems,” I said as I parked my car a couple of houses down and walked toward Duke’s home.

  The closer I got to his house, the clearer things became. Just what I hoped wasn’t true had come to light. A white 745LI, chrome factories, and paper tags; only one like it in the area.

  “C, you shiesty bitch!” I said as I walked toward her car, getting angrier with every step.

  Now it all made sense. That’s why Duke pretended to hate her so much. That’s why he didn’t want me around her. That’s why C’s first advice to me was to leave Duke when I would talk to her about our problems. All the times she told me I was too good for him and now look! They were afraid shit would hit the fan. Despite all their efforts to keep shit in the closet, it still came out and shit was going to hit the fan in ways they never expected.

  I pulled out my shank and stabbed each one of C’s tires as I walked around her car, contemplating my next move. My first thought was to go on a rampage and bust her windows, kick dents in her car, spray paint all over it, then go in the house and whip her conniving, stripping ass. But then I thought things through. If I was to do those things, it would probably be Duke to fix them, and then they would be right back were they left off. No damage done, for real. That wasn’t good enough. I needed a plan, a plan of revenge that would really make a difference. I needed time to devise the perfect revenge, so I decided to leave, but not before I walked to Duke’s car and slit his tires too. Hey, I had to let off a little steam!