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 SouthPark. 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.
