Page 11 of Giving Him Something He Can Feel

Chapter Four

Jovie- A few weeks later

My grandfather’s funeral was a blur. Shit, for about a month after that that’s how my life felt.

I didn’t know if I was coming or going, but I knew I was in pain.

This intolerable, mind numbing pain that no matter what I did overtook me every time I tried to keep it moving.

By the grace of God and Virtue I was able to get through the projects I had lined up.

If not for her I would’ve stayed cooped up in my pop-pop’s house crying with every passing moment.

Then to be honest being back in the city felt different, hell I felt different.

I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was off.

Then as if everything wasn’t odd or off enough, Cartier was being too fucking nice.

Like really nice and he actually cared about how I was feeling.

Long story short after a month one would think I settled back into normalcy, but I hadn’t.

My heart was still hurting and I was pushing through life one day at a time.

“You hungry, baby mama?” Cartier walked into his living room with no shirt on and his pajama pants hanging way too comfortably below his waistline. He insisted on calling me baby mama rather than friend or my name.

“Starved. How did you know?”

“Felt it. Get dre?—”

“You know I can go home, right? I feel like I’m crowding your space and sto—” he interrupted my sentence.

“What I tell you ‘bout that? I like you being here, shit makes a nigga actually come home out the streets.” He looked so serious, and I felt so guilty. I couldn’t understand why he was allowing my grief and trauma to crowd him.

Ever since I got into it with half of my family at my grandfather’s funeral he made me stay with him.

When I say made, I literally mean forced.

Like I said, Cartier had been different, more into me and less into everyone else.

I mean that I know of, because the nigga had literally settled into being with me like we were in a relationship, but we weren’t.

One thing I did know was that I needed to be going to get on something, because the last thing I needed was to be creating a life out of whatever this is.

We were for damn sure not protected at all, fucking, and sucking like consequences didn’t exist.

“Cartier.”

“You want me to say that shit then?” He nearly mugged me before going to the fridge.

“Say what?” I asked thoroughly confused on what he meant.

“I like you being here, man. I’on know what it is but I like that shit.” He turned around and looked at me serious. “Especially because you keep groceries up in this motherfucker.”

I looked at him, not knowing what the hell I was supposed to say, because I liked being here. Thing is I didn’t like uncertainty, and I didn’t want to get too comfortable here. Shit would be no good if this was just a fluke.

I guess I was quiet for too long, because soon he was walking toward me. “I want you here.” That part landed the moment his hands made contact with my flesh.

“For how…” my sentence trailed off because I didn’t want to appear too needy or vulnerable to a nigga… to this nigga.

“Say it. Yeen never held back before, don’t start now.” He challenged.

“I don’t want to blur lines with us.”

Laughter spilled from his lips. The type that came from deep within his stomach. “We already did that, shit a few times. Matter of fact that line don’t even exist no more.”

“And that means.” I guess I’d just settle for getting him to say what I physically couldn’t. ”

“Means we’re seeing where this goes. Just me and you.” Then he turned me around and made me look at him. “Just you and I.” this time he said it looking me directly in my eyes.

I was about to respond, but the overwhelming need to puke up my guts overtook my senses. Before I knew it, I was running toward the bathroom.

When I was finished throwing up my guts, I stood to my feet noticing that Cartier was holding out a towel for me to grab.

He seemed too cool, like way too cool. Maybe even comfortable with whatever was going on.

“You feeling alright, baby girl?” he asked while I stood at the sink cleaning my face.

“Yeah, something didn’t go down right. What are you doing tonight?”

“Taking you to get the shit for dinner and hanging back here with you. Ain’t shit to deal with in Ace-land, the fuck I’m leaving the house for?” Ace-land was the territory controlled by him and his brothers.

I just looked at him. “Who said I was cooking?”

“I did. But I mean if yeen feeling it we can eat out. You just be complaining ‘bout restaurants and shit.”

He was right I did. He knew me too well. Life had done a complete fucking 360. Pop-pop died and now I was shacking up with Cartier. The Cartier I said I wasn’t fucking with like that months ago. The same Cartier who fucked Taylor.

“I need to go get on something, because you and this not using condoms is going to give me a heart attack.”

He laughed. “You ‘bout late as fuck and I know for a fact you carrying my junior. Rest in peace to the one we Plan B’d.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It is. Shit it’s even funnier that you don’t think you are or you oblivious like this. I nut in you every time I lay with you. And I lay with you every night, have been for almost a month. We got eighteen, love.”

I shook my head and waved him off. “Whatever Cartier. I’m gonna go to the doctor sometime this week. Gonna make sure you can’t trap me for the next eighteen, love.” I mimicked him with the love part.

“Whatever you say shorty.” He seemed too confident, but I shook it off. Cartier was confident about everything, so this was no different. His picture was probably listed next to the word arrogant in the dictionary.

“Food though, you serious about going out?” I decided to change the subject.

He nodded. “As much as I’on feel like being around people, if you want to we can hit up a joint.”

I looked at him for a few seconds before I nodded my head. “I’ll cook something. Let me go get dressed.”

I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep in the car until I heard Cartier calling my name telling me to get up.

Then when I opened my eyes I realized that we weren’t at a grocery store at all.

We were at the damn mall, but I didn’t know why.

As far as I knew we were still getting something for me to cook.

He must’ve realized how confused I was after he turned the car off. “Got an Ace event tonight that we gotta show face at.”

“We?”

“Yeah, we. You for me right?” Then he didn’t even give me a chance to respond, because he was speaking seconds later. “Yeah, so with that being said we gotta show face.”

He shut me right the hell up, before getting out of the car coming around on my side to open the door.

“You be tryna check me, Cartier. I’on feel that shit.”

“Cap.” He grabbed my hand pulling me in the direction of the high priced scammer filled ass mall.

“How?”

“Cause I said so, now can we try to be out of here in an hour? Cause I still need to get home, mellow out, get full off pussy, fill you up and be ready to be in a room full of motherfuckers.”

I cackled. “If you don’t wanna go, then don’t.”

“It’s my organization. Niggas gotta show face and be present the right way. The world don’t stop because I wanna lay-up under my baby moms.”

I nodded. “I’m not you baby mother, Cartier.”

“You saying that right now, bu?—”

“Cartier!”

“Fine, I’ll let you rock for now.”

“Thank you.” I should’ve been alarmed at his confidence, but I shook it off because Cartier was Cartier. Confident about any and everything, it was just a personality trait of his at this point.

“It’s on me and the attire is all-white.

” That was literally all he offered before we were in the crowded ass mall hand in hand.

Part of me expected him to let my hand go, to walk side by side with me not touching, because then it would be explainable to the bitches he frequented.

The thing is he didn’t let me go the entire time we store hopped.

Unlimited hand holding and physical assurance, that this vibing thing between us was something he was serious about.

His energy was the same private and public, which had me smiling on the inside every time he pecked my temple or kissed or allowed his hand to rest on the small of my back for more than five seconds.

Yep, I was completely overthinking this.

Outside of the fitting room I was currently holding myself hostage as he sat in the blue cushioned chair awaiting my presence with too many bags to count sitting next to his feet, and my Starbucks to his mouth.

I knew that much because when I handed it to him, he made a face before deciding to taste the frappé.

Now I heard the straw every so often when he was trying to finish off the drink. Niggas.

After I had the very short dress over my hips, I adjusted it at my chest before looking myself over in the mirror.

I stared for long enough before I unlatched the door and stepped out into the semiprivate space for him to see.

Even if I was unsure about it, I knew his reaction would give me a yes or no.

I wasn’t looking for approval or disapprovals, but that self-adjustment thing men did when a bitch looked edible.

His eyes glossed my body for like forever before he told Trek he’d call him back. His left hand adjusted the bulge in his pants before his lips beckoned for me to come over closer to him. “C’mere right quick.”

“Why? I have one more dress to try on,” I lied.

He licked his bottom lip, chuckling before shaking his head. “You tryna get niggas killed at an all-white party. Blood don’t come out of white, Jo.”

“How? It’s just a dre?—”

“It ain’t the dress. It’s the body in that motherfucker and how possessive I am ‘bout it. Fuck a look but don’t touch clause, niggas bet not even fucking look or that’s their temples. Handing out head vents behind mine.”