Page 41 of Rayzor: Tell Me It’s Mine II

“I know I wanna be treated better than a fuck, blunt and shots. A nice dinner with the works. I can see myself doing that. We’re always turned up; sometimes it’s okay to tone it down.”

I nodded, filing it away in my memory.

We ended up falling asleep on the couch. No fucking, just relaxing. That had my ass worried because I realized I liked hanging with her outside of sex and the other shit. Why was it easy with Suki?

* * *

Not even a couple of days later, I was back at Mama’s crib. I needed her advice because there was this urge to do something different… something I’ve never done before.

“Two times in a few days. It’s serious. What’s going on, Devin?”

I took a seat.

She went into the coffee table, inside her secret compartment, and pulled out her pre-rolls.

“You put something on my mind the other day.”

“Oh, Lord, let me get two. My baby’s thinking, y’all.” She grabbed another, handing me one before putting fire to hers.

I laid back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as I lit mine.

“What’s an ideal date for you?”

She laid her head back on her chair. “One where I don’t have to fuck just because I got a lobster,” she joked, but that shit hit me in the chest. All jokes were laced with 50% truth. It made me realize that Mama probably hasn’t likely never gone on a real date before.

“I’m dead ass, Ma.”

She stared at the ceiling like she was envisioning it.

Smoke swirled around the living room with the TV as background noise. I was all ears. I wanted to get inside a woman’s mind to see what I’d been missing. I braced myself for something I wasn’t even sure about.

“Something classy, you know?” she began.

The more Ma talked, the more her eyes lit up. It made me feel bad a couple times because she was getting lost in a fantasy that she’s never experienced and that shit’s sad. Mama’s always been a down ass bitch for her niggas. I knew there were some no-good mothafuckas in the mix, but every one of them? What the hell was she doing with their asses, much less giving them babies?

After a couple blunts and chopping it up, I headed to Saks Fifth to do some shopping. I wanted this shit to be right, and with the information fresh on my head, I hit up Rayzor to come help a nigga out.

“Damn, they on you like twelve.”

He smacked his teeth. “That’s Morrison, stupid ass.” He looked back at his security detail. “This my city. Fuck I look like having security?”

“You ain’t regular no more, nigga. You know it’s a mothafucka waiting on that opportunity off hate. Not to mention the shit we do in the streets. No lacking.”

“You know I stay with it on me. I dare a nigga to run up, and I don’t even need the shit.”

“I’m already knowing.” I glanced back.

I picked up a shirt that I liked; it was hard. It was a short-sleeve black Moncler shirt.

“Nigga, you ain’t going to the lounge. You need some playa shit.”

“Show me your ways, ole Master Rayzor looking ass,” I joked.

“What kind of look you going for?”

I shrugged.

He grabbed a short-sleeve Emporio Armani satin shirt, and another long-sleeve version.