“Have you ever had a miscarriage before?”
“No ma’am, I can’t say I have.”
“So there’s no need to talk to you. Just because you went to school for this shit, don’t mean you know what the hell I’m going through.”
“I understand, but sometimes talking with a professional can help you get through this difficult time.”
“Listen lady, unless you can give me back my baby, I don’t have anything to say to you. Please leave me the fuck alone and tell that doctor I’m ready to leave up out of here,” I yelled.
I guess she got the picture, because she walked hurriedly out the room.
* * *
I was still feeling weak, but that was only the physical pain. The mental pain of losing my child was killing me softly. To make matters worse, I’d been calling Hassan to tell him I was in the hospital and had lost our baby, but he never picked up the phone and I knew he got my messages. I even called the office, but was told by the new secretary that he was not in. Bullshit. I knew his schedule so I knew he was not in court all day. I guess her ass must’ve been fucking him also.
My first day out of the hospital was terrible. I was no longer hurting and I was mad as hell. While in the hospital, I learned that I had gonorrhea. I’d been fucking since I was a little girl and I’d never caught anything. This lying ass nigga had the nerve to say I gave that shit to him. Even though I fucked Corey, I strongly doubted he was the one that burned me. I was mad as hell ’cause that nigga could’ve given me AIDS. This nigga Hassan was playing with my life and I didn’t like it one bit.
My tears were no longer flowing as I decided that I was done dealing with his lies and bullshit. I got into my car; I was about to put a stop to this nigga. My thing was that if I couldn’t have him, then nobody else needed to have him. Hassan wanted to say fuck me and my child. He had not even bothered to check on my baby while I was gone. That shit was foul. For fifteen years, he sat up here claiming how much he loved my son and all it took was a few moments for him to say fuck him. That showed me that Hassan didn’t love him anyway. I knew my son was hurting and I wished I could take the pain away.
* * *
I parked on the side, grabbed my purse and got out of my vehicle. My heart was beating quickly as I walked toward the door. I wasn’t scared, but I knew going to this door like that could play out in all kinds of different situations. I rang the doorbell and waited, but there was no answer. I rang the doorbell again.
“Who is it?” that bitch hollered.
I didn’t respond. I was scared that once I said my name she wouldn’t open the door. I realized she wasn’t going to open it anyway, so I rang the bell again.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Imani.”
She opened the door, looking all angry. “What the fuck are you doing, ringing my goddamn doorbell?”
“Listen lady, I’m not here on no bullshit. I just think since we’re fucking the same man, we need to talk.”
“Talk? What could possibly be the reason for a woman like me to talk to a dirty-ass, home-wrecking bitch? Why are you really here? Is it because he beat yo’ ass up?”
“First off, like I said, I ain’t come here for no shit. I thought we was woman enough to talk about this shit that Hassan doing to both of us. I don’t care ’bout you calling me no names. Shit, he calls you worse than that.”
My patience was wearing out with this ho. She really believed that I wanted to be here. Fuck no. This was the bitch that fucked up any kind of future I had with Hassan. I really should’ve hit her in the fucking face, but I decided to go a different route. That way, I would definitely get Hassan’s attention.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Destiny Clarke
Standing in front of me on my doorstep was Hassan’s bitch. Yes, you heard me right: the bitch Imani that claimed she was a secretary had the fucking nerve to ring my doorbell. Soon as I opened the door, I noticed her face was bruised and swollen. I knew then that Hassan had beat her ass up. I wondered what she thought she would get out of coming to my door.
After standing there going back and forth with this home-wrecking ho, I decided that maybe the bitch could benefit me in one way or another.
“Come on in, it’s too cold to be standing out here.”
I saw the hesitation across her face. “What the hell you looking like that for? You was bold enough to ring my doorbell, so be woman enough to come in here and talk. Ain’t that what you want to do?”
“Don’t you try nothing ’cause I’m known for busting a bitch in her head.” She walked into my house.
I looked around and then locked my door.
“You can sit in here.” I walked into the living room.
“So Imani, tell me; how long have you been screwing my husband?”
“Screwing your husband? Lady, Hassan was my man. We’d been dating for years before you came in the picture.”
“Is that so? Because I never heard of you or your little bastard before.”
“Bastard? Hold up now. I don’t play no games when it comes down to my motherfucking child.” That ho jumped up and tried to attack me.
“Sit your ass down,” I yelled and brought my can of mace from behind me and maced her ass.
“Aargh, you stupid bitch. You just maced me.”
“Like I said, sit yo’ motherfucking ass down. You thought I was a fucking fool when you showed up on my doorstep. See, I know your kind. Little young bitch that thinks pussy alone can hold a fucking man. No, bitch. You need more than good pussy to hold a man.”
She got up and I pushed that ho back on the couch. Things were happening so fast, I didn’t know what to do; I only knew that this bitch needed to learn a lesson.
“Hassan was right when he said you was a crazy bitch. Move so I can get the fuck out of here.”
“You ain’t going anywhere until I say so.”
I sprayed some more mace in that ho’s face.
“Help, help, help, you fucking crazy, bitch. I’ma kill your ass!” she screamed.
I wasn’t trying to hear that ho. I ran into my kitchen and grabbed my big frying pan. I walked over to the bitch. She had her head down trying to wipe the mace out of her eyes. I used both hands, lifted the pan up and busted her dead in the head a few times. Blood gushed from the side of her head and the blows knocked that bitch out cold. She fell to the ground.
I checked her vitals; she was still breathing. I stood there looking at her, my heart racing. I thought of calling the police, but I knew better. Going to jail, was definitely not in the plan. I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts . . .
I then went down into the basement where Hassan had some rope. I came back upstairs and tied her legs and her hands together. I then dragged her ass down the stairs to the basement.
Damn, that’s one heavy bitch, I thought.
I looked around, but couldn’t find any tape. I needed to make a run to the store.
* * *
Soon as I got outside, I noticed that her car was parked on the side. Fuck, I thought. Don’t panic. I rushed back inside and grabbed her purse. I dug into it and found the keys. I then walked calmly to her car. I’m happy my neighbors were older people who barely ever came outside. I was astonished to see the bitch was pushing a Lexus—the Lexus that Hassan had bought. I tried to stay calm; this was not the time for me to be getting all emotional and shit. I drove down White Plains Road and pulled up on E 229th Street. This was a residential area, so her vehicle wouldn’t seem suspicious. I wiped the steering wheel down and got out. I watched the Forensic Files show enough to know not to leave my fingerprints. I got out and walked toward White Plains Road. I walked to the corner of White Plains Road and 229th Street. There was a hardware store across the street. I looked around and saw an old drunk standing around.
“Hey, you, can you go in the store and buy me a roll of duct tape? I got twenty big ones for you.”
“Of course, pretty lady,” he grinned, showing his dirty teeth.
“Here you go, pretty lady. Can I get your number?”
I snatched the tape from him, shoved the twenty dollars in his hand and walked off. I jumped into one of the Livery cabs that was on standby.
“3253 Nereid Avenue.”
“Okay ma’am.”
He dropped me off at Mama’s address. I walked to the door and knocked.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Mama.”
“What’s going on? You driving? I thought you was supposed to be resting and where your car is?”
“I didn’t drive. I caught a cab over here.”
“Come in. You sure you all right? You look pale.”
“I’m fine, Mama.” I walked into the living room.
“Baby, do you need something to eat?”
“No Mama, I’m good. I need to talk to you.”
“Oh, okay, here I come.”
“Mama, sit down.”
I took her hands into mine and then I looked her in the eyes. “Mama, if anything happens to me I need you to take care of Amaiya.”
“Destiny, what are you talking about baby? You’re scaring me, what supposed to happen to you? Talk to me!”
“Mama, I loved you from the first day they told me I could go home with you. You’re my best friend and my world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But please don’t question me because I need to keep you out of this. I just need to know that if anything happens to me you’ll take care of my baby.” I looked at her with tears in my eyes.
“Baby, you’re making me scared. That look in your eyes. Destiny, please talk to me!” she squeezed my hands.
“I love you, but please, answer my damn question. Will you take care of my child if something was to happen to me?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll take care of Amaiya,” she wept.
“Do me a favor, please.”
“Anything. What is it?”
“Pick up your granddaughter from school and let her stay with you until I come get her.”
“This don’t sound too good, Destiny. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m about to call a cab. I love you.”
“Nonsense, let me drop you off.”
The ride from Mama’s house to my house was silent on my part. I was nervous and my mind was racing. I could tell Mama was worried because she kept making small talk with me, but I barely responded. I loved my mama and I needed to protect her. The less she knew, the better it was for her.
She pulled into my driveway and looked at me. “Do you need me to come in? I’ll just listen. I won’t say a word, baby girl.”
I smiled at her and touched her face. “You are my mother and ever since I was a little girl, you’ve been there caring for me and protecting me. Let me stand on my own feet this time around. Please.”
Without saying goodbye, I got out of the car and walked toward my door. I took a deep breath and opened my door.
Let the games begin, I thought as I entered the house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hassan Clarke
“Hello,” I answered my phone with an attitude.It was Josiah on the line. He’d been blowing up my phone for a few hours and I had no intention to talk to him. I already told his ass that I wasn’t his father and even though it was cutting me deep, there was no way I was going to play daddy to a bastard that wasn’t mine.
“Dad, it’s me Josiah,” his voice crackled through the phone.
“Yo, what’s good? I thought I told you the other day, I aint yo’ daddy,” I sternly said.
“Dad, have you seen ma?”
“Nah, I ain’t seen her. I don’t deal wit’ yo’ mama anymore. If she’s not there, she might be with that nigga Corey. That’s who your daddy is.” I was ready to get off the phone.
“Why you being so nasty? I call you to ask you if you’ve seen my Moms and this is how you act. On the real I don’t even know why she fucks with you.”
“Nigga, you better watch your mouth. You hear me?” I yelled into the phone.
“Or what, Dad? You goin’ beat me the same way you beat on my Moms?”
“Little nigga, don’t you forget, I was the one that fed and clothed your ass when yo’ ole trifling-ass couldn’t do it. You owe me yo’ motherfucking life. You hear me? You owe me!” I yelled.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he hung up the phone. I was tight as fuck. I wanted to beat that little nigga’s ass. Not so much for the shit he did, but for the grimy shit his mama pulled.
I was still heated that Imani’s ass played me like that. I was too embarrassed to call my Mama and them. I didn’t even know how to let her know that Josiah wasn’t her grandchild. I wanted to kill that bitch. It was one thing to play with my fucking feelings, but when you played with my mama’s feelings, it got serious. I played a lot of games, but I didn’t play when it came down to Mama.
* * *
Finding that nigga Corey was a top priority. There was no way I was going to let that nigga get away with what he did to me. I sat in my office pondering how I was going to go about it. I was well aware that I was a lawyer and I didn’t want to get my hands dirty. That was when a brilliant idea popped into my head. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the number to this thug that I defended on a case and got him off. He owed me big time and I recalled him telling me if I ever needed a favor, I should holla at him. Well the time had come for me to call in that favor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Destiny Clarke
A woman could go through so many years of pain and abuse, but there came a fucking point in life when enough was enough. I had never been in trouble before, nor did I have a criminal past because trust me, going to prison was not in the equation.
I locked the door and peeped out the side of the window to make sure Mama was gone. I hated to see her go, but there was no way I would involve her in anything illegal. I rushed to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. I drank it in one big gulp. That wasn’t enough, so I poured a second and a third glass. I burst out crying. I felt like I was falling apart.
“God, what am I going to do?” I screamed out and fell to my knees.
I held onto the counter and started bawling my heart out. The pain ripped through my soul. I wanted it to all go away: Hassan, his bitch, and all the pain I was feeling. Damn! A few seconds later, it hit me that the bitch was in my basement and I needed to get down there fast. I couldn’t risk Hassan coming to the house and finding her. I got up, wiped my tears, and grabbed the bag that had the tape inside and ran down the stairs.
I let out a gush of air when I saw she was still there. She was starting to come to and looked at me, as I was walking toward her.
“Bitch, what the fuck you did? I’m going to beat your ass, soon as I get out of here,” she barely mumbled.
My heart felt pity for her because she was a woman, like myself, who got caught up in a love triangle with this two-timing ass nigga, Hassan. I wanted to help her, but . . .
“Bitch, untie me,” she screamed.
I took another long look at her and decided against it.
“You know little girl, none of this would be happening if you did not talk so much. I get it, you were fucking my husband, but I wouldn’t have known if you did not call my phone to brag about it. See, this is the difference between a young bitch and a grown woman. A grown woman would’ve taken the cock, got paid, and played her position to the fullest. I’m not angry with you because you’re nothing but a young, dumb bitch,” I spat.
“Bitch, fuck you, Hassan didn’t want yo old ass. He loves me, he was only using you for the money. He often complained to me about your old, raggedy ass.”
“I’m going to say this, then I’m finish schooling yo’ young ass. Hassan is a dog. He will say wha
tever he needs to say whenever it benefits him. If he loves you like you claim, he wouldn’t have busted your face up like that. That is not love, but then again look at you, you’re pitiful.” I spit in that hoe’s face.
She started screaming and hollering. Calling me all kinds of names. That kind of behavior definitely stirred up all the emotions that were bottled up inside of me. I grabbed an axe that was nearby.
“Ahhhh,” I took a chop at her, but I missed the first time and almost chopped my damn foot.
I think God intervened on her behalf because I was ready to kill that whore. Who the fuck did she think she was, coming up in my shit like this?
“No!” she screamed out and held her head.
I dropped the axe and dropped to my knees. I wrapped my ten, tiny fingers tightly around that whore’s neck as I flashbacked to times when my stepfather fucked me as a child. My blood boiled with rage as I remembered the pain I went through. I took out every bit of anger that I felt throughout my life on her ass.
“Please, no! Please,” she barely screamed out while gasping for air.
I finally let her neck loose, then touched her pale looking face. I knew if I had continued to squeeze a little longer, I would have ended her life.
“Why couldn’t you just leave us alone? I didn’t want any trouble. All I wanted was to have my husband, that’s all,” I said as I wept.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Hassan Clarke
I had a meeting with dude named Big Dre. He was the dude that I got off on a murder rap a few months ago. He didn’t hesitate when I told him I needed a favor. I was cautious not to discuss business over the phone. See I wasn’t a fool. I knew that dude was already hot and I couldn’t risk getting torn off with this career criminal.
I opened the safe in my office. Even though we hadn’t decided on a price, I wanted to give this nigga a down payment. I took out two grand, closed the safe, and walked out of the office.
“Hey, Shari, I’m leaving for the remainder of the day. Please forward all calls to my cell.”
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