Still (Grip Book 2)(18)

Grip and I both laugh, holding each other loosely, our bodies cooling off as his mother approaches the sink.

"I heard you needed this." She hands me a Band-Aid before leaning over to inspect my handiwork, nodding her approval.

"Good job." She starts transferring the greens into a large pot of water. "That's enough for today."

"But I just washed!" My mouth hangs open. "I didn't learn anything new."

"You gotta work your way up to my greens, girl." A quick grin creases the still smooth skin at her eyes. "Next time, you boil."

I take in her friendly face like a balm to the abrasions from my  conversation with Jade. The first time I was in this house, Grip's  mother and I weren't friendly. We didn't exchange smiles, and there was  no affection slowly growing between us. It's been baby steps for us,  both of us loving Grip and wanting to know and like each other for his  sake. If I can have this with Ms. James, I have to believe one day I'll  have it with Jade, too. This warmth I'm basking in between Grip and his  mother, the sense of family with them in this kitchen and permeating the  entire house-I want it. I never had it for myself growing up, and I'm  adopting it as my own.

I lean into Grip's chest, tucking my head into his neck and smiling at  his mother, who watches us with eyes warmer than I ever thought they  would be.

"You're right, Ms. James." I give her a quick nod, returning her smile. "Next time."





9





Grip





Bristol's laugh hooks me from across the yard, drawing my attention from  the abysmal hand of cards I'm holding. If you're playing Spades and all  your cards are red, that's not good. These cards are bleeding, but at  least Bristol is still having fun. It's amazing the wonders food and  alcohol can work. With a full belly and a bottle of beer, she's seated  in a circle of lawn chairs, shoes off, hair tumbled from the knot she  had it in earlier. She throws her head back, the muscles in her throat  contracting to push out the sound that takes over everything else, at  least for me.

She's sitting with Shon and several of the girls I've known all my life.  Once they realized Bristol knows everyone in the music business and  manages many of its hottest stars, she became really popular. They  wanted all the gossip she could divulge. Talk of music quickly shifted  to her shoes, her bag collection, where we'll be living in New York, all  the details of our so-called glamorous life. Bristol isn't one of those  women who has lots of friends. Over the years, she has handpicked a  tight circle of people she trusts and would do anything for. Under the  prickliness, and when she sets her mind to it, she's all charm. She has  my lifelong friends eating from her hand and hanging on her every word.         

     



 

Bristol was nervous and stiff at first, and I can't blame her. This  isn't an easy group to jump into. Some are territorial, many  mistrusting, and a few just downright racist when it comes to white  women. But, they're also the most loving, supportive,  give-you-the-clothes-off-their-back people you'll ever meet. They're my  family, with or without blood. I know some of them don't like or  understand that I've chosen to spend my life with Bristol, but that's  all based on shit assumptions. I've seen too much good in their hearts  to believe they'll hold on to those notions once they see how much I  love her and how good she is for me, once they see how much she loves  me, and that is one thing Bristol can't hide. My dick twitches when I  remember her confessing her possessiveness in the kitchen. This party is  for me, but I'm wondering how soon we can be out. I leave tomorrow for  New York, and Bristol won't be able to join me there for at least the  next week or so. With Kai's debut album dropping Tuesday, Bristol can't  and won't leave her side.

So, I'm thinking we should probably fuck a lot before I leave.

"Man, it's getting late." I lay my awful hand of cards face down on the  table. "You guys still into this game or you wanna call it?"

Please call it so I can take Bris home.

"Oh, no. We're finishing this, ese." Mateo, my friend since elementary  school, wrinkles the folds of skin above his brows into a frown. "You  always trying to get ghost when you have a sorry hand. I know you."

I roll my eyes and, resigned to finishing this crappy game, pick up the blood-red cards.

"Maybe if you concentrate on the game," Mateo says, never looking up  from his hand, steadily shifting cards around, "instead of drooling over  your girl, you and your partner wouldn't be in the hole."

"I'm focused," I say, distracted again when Bristol gets up and crosses the yard toward us.

"I meant focused on the game. I give you a pass, though." Mateo turns  his stare on Bristol, too. "'Cause your girl's fine as hell, Marl."

He's one of the few who never took to calling me Grip, which always  irritated me, but not nearly as much as the fact that he's still  looking.

"Matty." I lean forward to snap my fingers in his face. "Eyes on the cards and off my girl."

"Awww, you skeered I'll take her from you?" The bastard blows me an air kiss.

Mateo, half black, half Mexican, hair loose and hanging down to his  waist, is a good four hundred pounds. I have nothing to worry about, but  his remark does make me crack a smile. We both laugh, but when she gets  closer and his eyes drift over her long, tanned legs, the laugh clogs  in my throat.

"For real, Matty, I'm gonna fuck you up you keep looking at her like that."

Our eyes connect again and I can't even hold on to my ire, not with him.  Second to Amir, he's been my ace boom since diaper days. I'd trust him  with my life. Growing up in these streets, I've had to more than once.

Bristol reaches us at the table and stands beside me. I capture her hand and bring it to my lips.

"You wanna sit?" I ask her.

She looks at the full card table, smiling at the other three guys playing Spades with me.

"There's nowhere to sit."

"As long as I got a lap," I say, patting my leg, "you got a place to sit."

She laughs, flashing the guys a self-conscious smile, but settles onto  my lap and rests her back against my chest. Once she's seated, I  introduce the other two guys at the table and leave Matty for last.

"Babe, did you meet Mateo?"

"No." She smiles. "Nice to meet you, Mateo."

Matty inclines his head, grinning at Bristol over the splay of his cards.

"He grew up with Amir and me here in the neighborhood."

"One street over," Matty says. "Just opened my business here."

"What do you do?" Bristol asks.

"I own a tattoo shop right up the street."

"He's done every tat I have," I say. "I wouldn't trust anyone else."

"Really? You do great work. Yours are beautiful, too," she adds, nodding  to his arms, brightly painted with everything from the Virgin Mary to  Snoop Dogg.

"Thank you. I don't see any ink on that pretty skin of yours." Matty gives her an outlandish wink. "But maybe you're hiding it."

Bristol's shoulders shake into my chest when she chuckles.

"Nope." She stretches her arms out. "Virgin skin."

"Well if you ever want that cherry popped . . ." The ring piercing Matty's eyebrow glints when he waggles it suggestively.         

     



 

"All right," I cut in. "You ain't getting anywhere near her cherries."

We all laugh and turn back to the game and this shitty hand I was just  dealt. Bristol falls back to my chest and drops her head to the crook of  my neck and shoulder. Her scent, fresh and clean-shampoo, body wash,  and just her-drifts up, filling the air around me. My arms frame her  slim body as I study my cards, sad to see they're still just as red. I'm  tempted to toss it in and drag Bristol's good-smelling ass out of here  even though the other guys show no signs of stopping. I haven't seen  most of these folks in a long time, though. I can put my dick in check  for another hour.

Maybe. If Bristol keeps squirming, maybe not.

"What game are we playing?" she asks.

"Spades." Mateo looks up from his hand, his smug grin telling me his hand is a lot less red than mine.

Bristol leans back and whispers near my ear, "If it's Spades, shouldn't you have some?"

When her "whisper" reaches Mateo's ears, he snickers, anticipating the  ass kicking he's about to deliver and smiling gleefully. I toss my cards  down and push an exasperated sigh into the hair at Bristol's neck.

"Babe, you just told everyone what's in my hand."

"I'm sorry," she says, but she and Mateo still laugh.

I grab her hips and pull her deeper into my lap until she feels my  erection and squirms, rolling her ass over me. I barely catch the groan  rattling behind my teeth.

"Keep it up," I say low enough for only her to hear. "You're gonna mess  around and get yourself fucked in my mama's bathroom, and we both know  you can't be quiet."

Her not-so-subtle elbow dig into my ribs has me umph-ing and trying to catch my breath to focus on the game.