Page 42 of Rayzor: Tell Me It’s Mine II

“It’s like what you just had but upgraded for the occasion.”

I grabbed the shirt, observing it. The only time I put on black long sleeves is when I’m looking up at a casket. I don’t dress up. That ain’t my style. My closet had jeans and dress-down clothes.

“A nigga gon’ burn up in this slippery shirt.”

He shook his head, handed me both, and walked over towards the slacks. Rayzor put together a couple outfits in minutes. I knew my boy had taste. I wasn’t even tripping. He asked me my opinion, and after that, I was able to put together some looks too.

He picked up baby clothes from Burberry to Armani.

“The baby don’t even have kneecaps yet and you’re already buying shit,” I joked.

He smiled while gazing at the outfits.

“You know what? This shit was unconscious.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Gotta make sure you get them right before they enter the world.”

“Hell yeah,” he murmured, racking through the clothes and grabbing up more baby items.

Seeing him in his fatherhood zone made me wonder what kind of Pops I’d be when my time came. It wasn’t that I was afraid of having kids. I loved them. It’s the marriage shit that trips me up. Say, for instance, Rayzor, when he wasn’t grabbing shit for the baby, he was snatching up pieces for Eris. That love shit can either have you looking crazy or like a happy fool. Either way, you won't be yourself.

“How did you know when E was the one?”

“When I had to get that win, and I hadn’t even gotten her first name yet.”

“Love at first sight?”

He ran his hand over his head. “When I saw her in that crowd, it was a magnetic pull. Not on some lustful shit. The world went spinning, but we were the only ones still. I knew the fight was mine, but she was my good luck charm that night. She was already my wife before I spoke.”

It wasn’t too many bitches I trusted to give my last name, much less a relationship, but there’s one… Suki. That lil’ mothafucka had power. She had to know it because I haven’t been back and forth with a woman like her in a long ass time. Like, I’m dead ass, lowkey comfortable with her. That shit right there makes my ass uncomfortable. It’s wild as fuck to know and not know what I was feeling.

After I blew a few bags on myself and Suki, I grabbed a few more things, then made my way over towards her shop.

Cars were lined up down the street. I knew it was about to be packed.

“I might need to do this shit later,” I told myself.

I thought about Mama’s words about not making a woman wait because I couldn’t get my shit together.

“Fuck it,” I said, snatching up the bags, flowers and bear that I broke bread on.

The walk inside was antsy as fuck. I kept thinking about how I was about to put myself on the line and some more shit. It wasn’t the spotlight that had me; I thought about the rejection.

“I’m here for Suki,” I told the receptionist as she gawked at me with her mouth open and shit.

“Oh wow. I see you, Suki.” She clapped.

I didn’t want her to announce me as I made my way back to the salon area and all eyes and conversation ceased once they saw me. I searched around but didn’t have to look far when I spotted her at her booth with a customer. That’s when I saw Star in her chair.

“Sup, Suki.”

She did a double take when she saw me.

“City,” Star called me. “What’s all this?” She stood up.

I walked around her.

The girls in the salon were laughing. I wasn’t intentionally trying to make her feel bad, but this wasn’t about her. That’s her fault for assuming shit.