I attended the charity event with him and got a glimpse of his reputation and benevolence on a community level, gauged his prestige and experienced more of his variants. The more exposure to him the deeper I fell. The sex remained skilled, raucous at times, bruising, impassioned, combustive, and the best that I’d likely ever experience. I’d become addicted to it, dependent on it and quickly epiphanized it was something that consumed my every awakened moment and even my subconscious when I’d dreamt about him.
I was able to be free with Azmir and trust his sexual guidance and passion. He never talked about committing to me exclusively for anything more than sex—and neither did I for that matter, but when we sexed we were total. Complete. Satisfied in every way. There was no room for another lover because he depleted all curiosities when he touched me. I wasn’t ready though. I wasn’t prepared to let him in. Azmir was a lot of man to take in, I couldn’t fight the fear that I’d bitten off more than I could chew with him. His self-placed pedigree, his lifestyle, his remarkable journey and promising destiny scared the shit out of me. It left little space for me to plant my feet in his universe. He was a tall order, a satisfying feast. An improbable possibility.
The prospect of him did no good to oppose my self-loathing and fears of inferiority. But I was caught up with him, had relented in his chase to a new level of me.
~~~~~~~~~~
Azmir
As I sat in the diner sipping on tea, I gazed lazily outside where the rain was coming down and the clouds were gray. I glanced down at my Breitling that read about two thirty p.m. I’d only been there about ten minutes but I was eager for my party to arrive.
Soon, through the glass window, I saw Petey running in front of the diner with his jacket partially covering his head, trying to keep from getting wet. He was a baldy so I’m sure he felt every drop that hit him. When he entered, he looked around in search of me. I waved my hand to reveal my whereabouts and he immediately noticed me.
He briskly walked over and while sitting down he mumbled, “Yeah, man, it was a set up,” very calmly.
“Damn.” I bawled. I knew it.
I'd spoken to my mother several times since my birthday. She explained her drug charges sentencing and told me that the FEDS arranged for the early release under the condition that she assisted in an investigation targeting Big D. Apparently they were sniffing around my trunk, but she was adamant about not taking part in my investigation.
Long story short: Big D and my pops were beat cops, or uniformed officers, who allowed their greed to take over back in the 80s, which incidentally was the height of the dope game era. My pops had the connects but Big D had the heart to knock mid-level hustlers for fairly large amounts of their dope. It wasn't until my dad took notice of me sniffing around, trying to get in the game by peddling weed when he grew a conscious and told D he wanted to end their arrangement. D didn't like it and tried to convince my father otherwise, but unsuccessfully so he set him up.
No one really knows the details behind who D worked with, but my mother surmised from a comment D made one drunken night a few days after my dad’s funeral. He said, “Life must go on, Yazzy, or you'll get run over just like your old man. Follow me and you'll stay alive for that little boy of yours.” Before you knew it, D had my mom set up in Chi-Town transporting out there. The amounts were so large that the FEDS took notice and eventually hit her with twenty-six years.