The Streets Keep Calling (9 page)

I looked out the window to see Breeze standing outside, blowing on a car's horn. I grabbed my bag and raced out the front door. We were running late for church.

“Oh, you got a new rental?” I asked, noticing that Breeze was driving a different car from the Toyota Camry rental I had seen him driving lately.

“Nah. This is me. You like it?”

“You bought a new car, Breeze?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah. It's just a little something. I figured for the money that I was spending on rentals I could just buy my own little ride. You feel me?” Breeze tried justifying purchasing a new car.

“Yeah, I guess,” I responded.

As we were riding down Virginia Beach Boulevard in Breeze's new Chrysler 300 with a navigation system, I began to wonder how he was able to purchase such a car. I knew he didn't make that much as a janitor. My worst fear was that he was back to selling drugs. I began to worry that, this time, he may not end up in a prison cell. Instead, his fate could be a coffin. My thoughts began to race.
Should I ask him? I don't want him to get mad at me. Do I really want to get involved with someone who sells drugs? My daddy would be livid with me, and my mother would do more than just yell at me; she'd probably lay hands on me.
I figured for the time being I wouldn't jump to any conclusions. I decided to just observe Breeze for any signs of him being back into the drug game. Minutes later we'd arrived at church.

 

“Saints, there's one more thing left to do,” Pastor Gregory announced.

“It's offering time,” a woman shouted out as she stood up. “Praise the Lord!”

“Yes, Sister Richards, you are correct, it is indeed offering time,” he assured her.

“Amen,” a man shouted in front of us while waving his check in the air.

“God loves a cheerful giver. If you're not giving from the heart, don't bother putting a penny in the basket. You will not get blessed that way,” the pastor preached.

I couldn't agree with him more
, I thought as I pulled a crisp fifty-dollar bill out of my purse. I may not have had 10 percent to give, but I did have something. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Breeze pull out a one hundred-dollar bill. I had to admit that I was impressed. I continued to watch him and listened closely as I heard him whisper, “Please forgive me, Lord.” I didn't know what Breeze had done, but I was thankful he knew who to go to for forgiveness. That alone eased my heart.

As the ushers assembled around each church row, the choir began singing a song called “A Cheerful Giver.” I'd been attending the Assembly Church of God in Norfolk since I moved to the area. These people welcomed me with open arms and I'd been going there ever since. They were more like family to me, and I hoped Breeze wanted to become part of the family as well. We'd been talking and spending a lot of time together over the past few weeks, and I must admit I was really feeling him. I knew deep down that I was feeling him a lot more than he was feeling me, though. I tried not to show it to Breeze, but I knew I was falling for him. Sometimes I wondered if Breeze was even able to love or trust anymore after what Maria did to him. I was sure Maria had turned his heart cold. This was a first for me. Back home, men fell to their knees for my hand, and it hadn't been any different when I moved to Norfolk. That is, until I met Breeze, and now I found myself on the other end of the spectrum.

“Thank you for inviting me to church,” Breeze said as he opened the car door for me.

“You're welcome. I hope you will come back again.” I giggled.

“Yeah, I will.” He nodded.

“That's good to hear,” I replied, taking comfort in his words.

“Where to now, Ms. Tanisha? Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Captain George's, here we come,” Breeze announced before turning up the radio. I definitely had a taste for seafood. This restaurant had a sixty-item buffet, but we all knew everyone went for the countless plates of crab legs.

Minutes later, we arrived at a busy Captain George's. There was a short wait, but it was well worth it. It didn't take long for someone to show us to our seat, and we wasted no time digging right in.

“I have a little something for you,” Breeze mentioned after I finished my first plate.

“What is it?” I asked, excited.

Out of his pocket, he pulled a box. Enclosed was a Tiffany necklace with a key charm. “The key unlocks my heart. Always remember that,” he explained.

“Thank you,” I replied with a bit of worry in my voice.

“Baby, what's wrong? You don't like it?” Breeze asked, concerned.

“I love it. In fact, you did well, really well. It's just that you and I both know on a cleaning crew salary you can't afford this. I may have grown up on the other side of the tracks, but I do have some street smarts. Breeze, please be honest with me are you back to selling drugs?” I inquired in a low voice.

“I've always been honest with you, Tanisha, so I'm not gonna start lying now. Yes, I am,” he confirmed.

“Wow,” I replied, disappointed. “How could you take such a risk, Breeze? I mean, you just got home.”

“Tanisha, it won't be for long. It's only until I get back on my feet. I'm not even doing much. I hardly even touch it. I just get it from my man, then give it to some other cats across town. I got dreams too, you know. Dreams cost money. You know that.” Breeze tried his best to give me good reason for his actions.

“Have you looked for a better paying job?” I asked, trying to suggest a more safer way for him to make that money.

“No, I have not. I'm a felon, Tanisha. Ain't nobody trying to hire me. All they see is a record and they want no part of that. I guess felons aren't worth the trouble. Babe, don't let this spoil things. We're having such a great lunch,” he suggested, taking my hand.

“Will you promise to quit soon? I can't be sitting here worrying about you being all wrapped up in the drug game.”

“Agreed,” Breeze quickly replied. I couldn't tell if he was being honest or just wanted to end the conversation. I could only trust and pray that he was telling me the truth.

 

I began to think that Breeze, his drug game, and his drama may be more than I could chew. I didn't want to be up at all times of the night thinking the worst, but, unfortunately, that's exactly what was going on. I had this fear of being woken up by a phone call in the middle of the night saying he was back in jail. I knew that could get real old, real quick.
I'm not sure I can do this. I deserve better. I deserve more. Why is this happening to me again?
My head started to spin as I thought back to the days I dated Jose. It seemed like history was repeating itself.

Jose was my first love, and he was everything I'd ever dreamed of in a man. He was my Mexican lover, as I used to call him. He stood tall at six feet even, with a rich caramel complexion, and big dark brown puppy eyes. A lot of my friends immediately stereotyped, and warned me about getting involved with a Hispanic man because they were known to be possessive. Jose proved them all wrong, though. He treated me like a queen. He was always loyal, respectful, gentle, and funny. After only a year of dating, Jose proposed to me. It was also at that point that he introduced me to another side of his life. Jose was part of the Mexican cartel. This piece of information was too much for me to take in. At first, I told myself I could roll with it, but when reality set in about the kind of life I would live being married to someone in his position, I knew I couldn't marry him. Being the wife of someone in the Mexican cartel would mean a life of terror. I would have to be on the defense and prepared for anything, because his enemies could come for me at any moment. I was not naive to how the streets got down, and in the streets, no one is ever spared. You can be killed just by association, but family is the first thing they go for. I was smart enough to realize I would not be able to live that kind of lifestyle, and I could not see myself bringing kids into a situation like that. It really hurt Jose when I gave him the ring back, but there were no hard feelings between us. He told me I would always have a piece of his heart, and if I ever needed anything, he would be just a phone call away.

Now I was faced with Breeze being in the drug game. I didn't know what to do. I really liked Breeze and I didn't want to lose him.

I spent hours and hours thinking. That's when it hit me: “I'll introduce Breeze to Jose,” I said to no one in particular.

Breeze said selling was a temporary situation to get him back on his feet. From the way he explained things, it would take him months before he started to see any real money. I knew if I hooked him up with Jose he could make his money faster, which meant he would be able to get out of the drug game earlier than anticipated. I wasn't sure if I was making the right decision by introducing them, though. I didn't want him to think that I was encouraging his hustle, but I really wanted him to be in and out. I loved him and I wasn't willing to lose another good man and potential husband. I wasted no time calling Breeze and telling him all about my plan. He was a little reluctant at first, and asked a lot of questions, but by the end of our conversation he was on board.

“Suck that dick, I'm about to come,” Breeze whispered as he pulled my head closer in between his legs. I wasted no time sliding off the condom and getting down to business. I was sure to stay far from his asshole as I finished him off. The incident that happened that night I had popped the ectasy pill still haunted me. I stayed on point with giving him top-notch blow jobs every time, but I was extra careful not to go anywhere near his back door.

“Ah…that's it, Trixy. Fuck,” he said as I felt his dick swell and bust out. When he came I swallowed every drop of his cum. It tasted bitter. I guess because of all that Heineken Breeze had drunk.

“You ready for another go-round with Ms. Puss?” I asked after coming up for air.

“Nah, I'm about to hop in the shower and get ready for work,” he replied. I was a little disappointed because I was hoping to get a nut too, but I wasn't about to start bitching. At this moment in my life, I couldn't be better. This nigga was paying every bill in this house and giving me money on the side. What meant more to me than the money was that Breeze was being a father to my son. A bitch was happy! The only complaint I had was that Breeze strongly needed to invest in a money counter because my hands were starting to hurt from counting his stacks. A bitch's hands were full of papercuts! Plus, a money counter would cut down on time and human errors. Every now and then, a stack ended up short or over and I would have to do it all over again. Well, when it came up over I would recount it, but when it was short I would just keep it moving. I knew most of the time it was short because I didn't hesitate to take a little extra for myself. And since he'd stopped fucking with Mannie and started dealing with those Mexicans, it had become easier and easier to shave a little off the side. Breeze had more and better product and his clientele had grown, too. He was pushing straight weight, no more cooking up crack and dealing with niggas on the block. Needless to say, money was coming in left and right. At times I felt like Breeze had more money than he could keep up with. That's why when I took a few bucks it went unnoticed.

While Breeze was in the shower, I noticed his phone wouldn't stop ringing. I knew it couldn't be Maria. That bitch hardly ever called. I tiptoed in the bedroom and quickly went through this phone. I couldn't believe a new chick was on the scene. Her name was Tanisha and she had sent him a text saying: I love you and miss you.

“What the fuck?” I said to no one in particular.

I knew Breeze had to have been seeing this chick for a while. Sickness suddenly fell over me. I felt faint and then nauseated. I took a few deep breaths and gathered myself. Then anger kicked in.

“Who the fuck is Tanisha?” I questioned after barging in the bathroom and opening up the shower curtain.

“What?”

“Breeze, you fucking heard me. Who the fuck is Tanisha? Are you fucking her?”

“Be cool, Trixy,” he suggested, hopping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

“On the first day you came home I was there for you. Breeze, you didn't have shit and I took you in, and this is how you repay me?” I shouted.

“I don't need this,” Breeze insisted while grabbing a huge duffle bag and throwing his things into them.

“That's a'ight. Go ahead and leave. Next time you are in a shitty bind, don't come knocking on my door!” I snapped.

“I can't believe you're acting this way.”

“One more thing I need you to know,” I shouted.

“What's that?” Breeze asked, shaking his head, almost at the front door.

“Junior is…” I paused and took a deep breath. “Junior…” I paused again. For some reason, I just couldn't get the words out.

“What about Junior, Trixy?” Breeze had a sudden look of worry on his face. “Trixy? What is wrong with Junior?” He dropped his bag and headed back toward me.

To see his reaction about Junior really tugged at my heart, but I still didn't have the courage to tell him, so I just made something up off the top of my head. “Junior is really gonna miss having you around. Get out of my house,” I shouted, trying my best to cover my hurt feelings.

Without a fight, Breeze picked up his bag and headed out the door. I couldn't believe he could just up and leave like that after everything I did for him. I ran to the door so I could see him through the blinds. Right then I knew this nigga was just using me all along and never gave a fuck about me; not once did he bother to look back.