Young Gucci

by Niyah Moore

Genres: African American Women's Fiction; African American Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

"Love isn't about how much you say, 'I love you,' but how much you can prove it.

Finding love in the club wasn't working for Soraya after she dumped her ex for going to jail, so she tries to find love online. Thousands of women have found love with a simple click of the mouse, and she wants to test it out for herself. Just when Soraya thinks that spending hours online looking for a man is a complete waste of time, she finds YoungGucci90's profile. Looking at his hazel eyes in his pictures, she falls in love instantly.

Though her roommate is convinced that he's a catfish, Soraya sees him at a concert at the House of Blues in West Hollywood. Fast romance blossoms and everything seems to be too good to be true. Though he is the guy from his online profile, he hasn't been honest about who he really is. Hiding behind a persona he's created to keep his real identity safe, will he find it's too late to come clean?

Release date: January 28, 2020

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

A single minute had passed since I last checked my iPhone, which seemed like an hour ago. It was 8:45 p.m. on a Friday, and I couldn’t believe that I was sitting at home. This was the third Friday in a row with zero plans. I couldn’t remember the last time my best friend and I got dressed and headed to our favorite seafood restaurant, the Water Grill. We would eat, drink, and gossip. Then afterward, we would go to any jumping nightclub and dance the night away, downing Patrón shots. We wouldn’t get in until 4:00 a.m. the next day. Now that was what I called an exciting Friday night.

I was sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop, legs neatly tucked under me. My hair was braided to the side, draping over my left shoulder. Bored out of my mind, I scrolled through Snapchat stories. It would’ve been nice if I could’ve been getting ready for a date or something, but my love life had officially dried up like pieces of juicy mango placed in a dehydrator.

The TV was on in the living room, though I was only half watching it. A Single Ready to Mingle commercial came on, and it had me looking up from my laptop. I’d seen the commercial many times before, and each time it made me wonder if the people were paid actors, because it seemed so scripted. Yet I was intrigued by the scripted outcomes.

Can people really find love online? I asked myself. I had a few men get at me through Instagram DM and Facebook Messenger, but I never responded because social media platforms weren’t for dating. At least for me, they weren’t.

Where did I go wrong?

I had one true love once. His name was Jacoury, and we broke up the day he got arrested. He had to do some time, and I wasn’t the type to do time with him. I dated here and there, but none of those situations materialized into anything worth mentioning. I wanted a commitment. I didn’t do “me, he, and she.” Just he and I. I wanted someone to love me the way that I loved him. What was the point of doing things for a man as if we were in a committed relationship when he wasn’t trying to be anything more than a fuck buddy?

Where were the real men who wanted to court and weren’t afraid to say they were looking for love too? Seemed like I wasn’t going to find him in a grocery store, bank, club, or jogging in the park. Black love was trending on social media, surprise proposals, and weddings were all up and down my timeline daily. I was feeling left out, and getting married was looking more like a dream that would never ever happen for me. I was starting to lose hope. As my dirty thirties were approaching in two more years, what would it hurt to try the website out?

I typed www.singlereadytomingle.com into my search bar and cruised around the site to see if it would be hard to create a profile. It seemed like there were some promising prospects. The website stated it was free for women to sign up, so I shrugged and created a profile. I posted a couple of pictures since the site recommended to post more than one for better results. As soon as my profile was ready to go, I took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

My roommate, Kaeja, came out of her bedroom and walked past me into the kitchen. Not only was she my roommate, but she was my best friend and had been since we were freshmen in high school. I loved Kaeja’s natural kinky, curly hair that looked like tiny, perfect spirals. Her dark skin looked like creamy chocolate milk, and her dimples were deep in each check even when she wasn’t smiling.

“What you doing? Designing clothes?” she asked as she took a small bag of green apples from the refrigerator and placed them on the counter.

“I’m creating a profile on Single Ready to Mingle,” I replied reluctantly. I felt a little embarrassed because I didn’t want to sound like I was desperate.

“What?” Kaeja asked and then laughed.

“Don’t laugh. I’m trying to see something.”

“Girl, trying to see what?”

“I want to see if I can—”

“Can what? Find you a man up on there?” she interrupted.

I didn’t respond as I bit my lower lip.

“Oh, wow.”

“Wait, Kae. Listen to this.” I read some guy’s headline to myself and then aloud: “‘Looking for Mrs. Right. Is that you?’”

“Is that his hook?” Kaeja scowled. “I wonder how many women responded to that lame-ass line.”

“His profile name is Mandingo_69.” I paused before laughing at how ridiculous that sounded.

Kaeja rolled her eyes. “Mandingo_69? Girl, delete your profile ’cause it ain’t gonna work.”

“No,” I whined. “Not yet. I just got started. I only clicked on his profile because baby was cute, but how thirsty can this dude be with a profile name like that? He wants everyone to know he got a big dick and it probably ain’t even big! And 69! He’s making it known that he wants some head, but he’s also saying that he gives head.”

“Raya, it’s a fuckin’ thirst trap is what it is!” Kaeja shook her head, and her wild, curly hair shook with her. “I doubt you will find anyone who will be honest about who they really are, and you may end up in a dangerous situation if you meet up with any of them.” Kaeja cut an apple into slices on a wooden cutting board. “He ain’t looking for Mrs. Right. Maybe Mrs. Right Now. I don’t even know why you’re wasting your time. What made you want to create a profile anyway?”

“I read all these testimonials, and the commercials are interesting. I want what Remy and Pap have! I want hashtag black love! To be honest, I wouldn’t mind having what you have with your boo.”

Kae smirked as she wagged her pointer finger. “You gotta be careful what you wish for. Fuck around on the internet and find you a prison boo. You not holding nobody down, hence the reason why you’re not with Jacoury anymore. Pap held Remy down when she did time, might I add. That’s why they have black love.”

“I am not fit to be nobody’s prison wife!”

She nodded. “And that’s why you need to stop while you’re ahead. But um, speaking of Jacoury, you know he’s fresh out, right?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. I saw on Facebook that he was home. He had been for a few weeks. After doing five years in Salinas Valley State Prison, he was finally free, and I was trying my best to not notice. I thought about sending him a message on Facebook, but at the same time, I was in my feelings. Why hadn’t he called me? My number hadn’t changed.

Every time I thought about Jacoury, I couldn’t help but reminisce on our good times. He had the most beautiful brown skin and chestnut brown eyes. Flashbacks of what used to be were something that never left no matter how hard I tried to push them to the furthest part of my brain. Suddenly, I imagined my hands rubbing the waves of his fade as he was nestled between my legs licking my clit like he could never get enough. I managed life for five years without him.

I shook off the memories with a shudder and replied, “I haven’t spoken to him since he’s been home. What I look like hitting him up now after I abandoned him? His words, not mine.”

“Well, first of all, you can stop denying that you still love him. I’ve always said y’all have too much history to throw away. You two were together from the ninth grade until our third year in college. You act like he did twenty years. He only did five.”

“I will always have love for Jacoury, but I can’t go there. I told him that if he loved the streets more than he loved me, then I was done. He chose and ruined what could’ve been a bright future. Besides, I want something new and exciting.”

“All right, but I’m issuing you my warning right now with this online dating shit. Don’t bring no crazy-ass, deranged killers up in here, okay?”

“You think some killers up on here looking for love?” I joked.

“I’m dead ass, Raya. Might be some rapists looking for their next victim. You gotta be careful.”

“You watch way too much First 48.”

“You don’t watch it enough. Those are true stories, Raya. Make sure to inspect all pictures. If a nigga only got one pic, he might not be who he said he is, so next. If he got hella pics of him out drinking, he’s an alcoholic, next. If he got too many cropped pics, that mean he got a bitch, next.”

“No worries. I got this.”

I clicked on the filter button to reveal Los Angeles men only and scrolled through a few more profiles in the “Do You Want to Meet Me” section of the page. I clicked no on the profiles as fast as they came.

I came to an abrupt stop when I saw this handsome face with these penetrating hazel eyes. His screen name was YoungGucci90. Damn, baby was fine with his caramel self. I clicked on his profile. His height was the first thing that jumped out at me. He was six foot three inches, and he lived right here in Los Angeles. I had a weakness for tall men.

“Oooooh, shit,” I said while fanning myself. “Look! He is fiiiiiine as hell!”

“There you go, looking at his physical appearance,” she replied without looking at my computer screen. “First of all, what is his screen name?”

“YoungGucci90, and he apparently loves to wear Gucci.”

“Gucci has made a huge comeback for the culture even with their blackface bullshit-ass apology. Nonetheless, it seems like everybody is wearing it again instead of boycotting it any further. What’s he talking about on his profile?”

“Come look.”

She took another bite of the apple slice and walked from the counter to me. I clicked on a picture of YoungGucci90 biting on his lower lip and looking at the camera all sexy like he was ready to devour anyone looking at him.

“You ain’t lying! Girl, he’s what I call too fuckin’ fine. That might be a catfish situation for real. That can’t be a real profile.”

The Catfish show did scare the hell out of me. I didn’t know how those people went years without seeing a person face-to-face but claimed they were in love. Those people were gullible and too desperate for me.

I took a more in-depth look at YoungGucci90’s page. Chicks were posting how good it was to meet him and asking why he hadn’t hit them back. Some of them were begging to see him again. He had to be a real person.

“This doesn’t look like a catfish, Kaeja. Chicks posting and tagging him in stuff like he’s real, so he must be.”

“He looks like he hooks up hella much, and he looks like he’s a little younger than we are. I don’t think a man that fine is having a problem with getting ass,” she griped as she stared harder at his pics. “Why he gotta be all up in the club? And there’s a bunch of girls all over the place. Ah, hell nah! I would pass.”

I frowned. “He looks like he knows how to have a good time to me. If he’s over twenty-one, I don’t have an issue with age. But I don’t know. With these chicks begging like this, I’m curious. Let me read his profile some more.”

She hummed as I continued to scroll through his page.

“He likes to work on cars. A man who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, sweet. It looks like he has a hell of a car collection with a mixture of old schools and other foreign whips. Under his occupation, it says to ask him.”

Kaeja went back to the counter to put her apple slices into a bowl. She sat down next to me, all the while shaking her head.

“What?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not saying anything, friend. If this is what you want to do, let me know when you want to meet him so I can be right there with you.”

“Okay. You think I should send him a message?”

“Raya, you’re my best friend in the whole entire world, and you’re too fuckin’ pretty to be all up on the internet looking for a man. You don’t have low self-esteem, and there are plenty of real men out there. Soooo no, I don’t think you should send him a message.”

“Come on, Kae. Ain’t none of the men I’ve been dating worth shit, and I’m tired of chilling alone. I want a boyfriend. Why is it so hard to have one?”

“You don’t go out anymore. How can you meet someone when you’re cooped up in the house?”

“True, but maybe my luck can change by meeting men I would never meet while out and about.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re going to find the one on there. That’s my honest opinion. Don’t kill me.”

“Let’s see where this goes. Not everybody can have the perfect high school sweetheart,” I reminded her. “If you weren’t in a relationship, you would probably understand how I’m feeling right now.”

“You and Jacoury had that high school sweetheart thing going!”

“Yeah, but he fucked it all up.”

“You afraid you gonna hook back up with Jacoury, aren’t you?” she asked with a weird smile forming. “I get it. You want to be unavailable because he’s home now.”

“No, Kaeja. Jacoury is an ex for a reason. It’s time for me to see if I mesh with anyone else.”

The front door opened and closed. Speaking of the love of Kaeja’s life, Avian, her boyfriend, walked into our apartment as if he lived here. I was still mad that she had given him a key behind my back, but after she apologized, I had to act like I was okay with it.

Avian and Kaeja met at 15 years old, the same year Jacoury and I hooked up, but after thirteen years, she still didn’t have a ring on her finger. All she ever talked about was marrying Avian, but Avian brushed over the subject as if marriage weren’t an option. She pretended as if she weren’t ready for the next step.

Avian was half Puerto Rican with long hair, which he kept in a ponytail. He wasn’t as tall as I would like, but he was taller than Kaeja, and she didn’t mind that he was under six feet tall.

“Hey, Avian,” I said.

Avian walked into the kitchen with a duffle bag. He was dressed up in a nice pair of jeans and a button-up. As much as I didn’t mind his company, being around them made me want to be in a relationship even more.

“Hey, Soraya,” he said and then placed a kiss on Kaeja’s lips. “Babe, why aren’t you dressed?”

“I’m about to go get dressed right now,” she replied.

She hadn’t told me they were going anywhere. “Where y’all going?” I asked all nosy-like.

“We’re going to the House of Blues. Chris Brown is supposed to be there,” he replied.

“Should I wear a short black dress or the green one, Raya?”

“You stay wearing black every time you go out. Wear the green one. Hey, soooo why y’all didn’t invite me?”

“I thought about asking you, but you always say you don’t want to be the third wheel, and I didn’t want to make you feel awkward. Plus Avian got the tickets.”

“Thanks for lookin’ out,” I said to Avian sarcastically.

“My bad, Raya. For real, next time you can roll with us, and I can hook you up with a date,” he said.

“Nah, I’m cool on ya hookups. The last one was cute but dry and boring. No, thanks.” I picked up my laptop and headed to my bedroom. “You guys have fun.”

As soon as I was in my bedroom, I closed the door. I couldn’t stop staring at YoungGucci90’s profile. Those eyes had me stuck. Even though Kaeja told me not to, I went ahead and sent him a message anyway. I typed:

Hello Young Gucci,

I came across your profile, and I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Soraya, and I’m 28 years old. I’m single, never been married, no kids, and I started my own clothing line called Paradise You. I’m five foot three, 145 pounds, and as you can see, I like to keep myself up. Why are you online looking for love?

MissDesignDiva

I checked to see if he was online, but his profile said that he had already logged off an hour ago. I logged off, feeling a little disappointed. I turned on the TV and let out a long sigh. It was going to be yet another long and boring Friday night at home alone. I picked up my laptop again and checked the House of Blues website to see if there were any tickets left for this Chris Brown event. I crossed my fingers.

“Babe, why is it taking you so long?” Avian complained. “You promised you would be ready before I got here.”

“I’m so sorry, babe. I’m ready now,” I said, making sure all my makeup was back in my makeup case in the bathroom before I walked out. I didn’t know why he wanted to show up early. It wasn’t as if we didn’t already have VIP tickets. Plus Chris Brown wouldn’t get on stage until the end of the night. We still had plenty of time.

I sashayed to the closet quickly for my heels so he wouldn’t grow more impatient.

“I like that dress you’re wearing,” he complimented me. “I haven’t seen you in that color before.”

“Raya suggested I step outside my comfort zone and wear colors other than black. This one hugs me in all the right places, don’t you think?”

He licked his lips slowly and gave a slight grin. “Hell yeah. You’re blessed with all that ass. I’m one lucky bastard. You must want me to fight someone tonight, huh?”

I giggled as we walked out of my bedroom. “You won’t have to do that, babe. Everybody knows I belong to you.” I called out to Soraya, “See you later, Raya. We’re gone.”

“Bye. Have fun,” she called back through her closed door.

We lived right in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, and it was perfect for us. We managed to find an apartment that was regulated by rent control, so the price did not increase every year. Soraya was self-employed, having launched her own clothing line, and I wa. . .