by Zane
“I can’t. I need to get back to the dorm.”
“Okay. So what time do you leave tomorrow?”
“Early. Traffic is going to be a bitch so we need to make waves and get on down the road.” I paused and then glanced at him. “I have an idea. Since we’re going to tie the knot, I have to bring you out of the proverbial closet. Why don’t you fly down to Atlanta for a few days and get to know my family?”
Kevin seemed taken aback. “Are you for real?”
“Yes, of course. You keep wanting to purchase a plane ticket, so purchase your own. That way you can meet all the other important people in my life at the same time.”
I could tell that he was someplace else; somewhere deep in thought.
“That might be a bit too much and a bit too fast,” he finally blurted out.
“You’re the one who wants to get married right away, and now you want to slow things down?”
“Let me think about it,” he said. “Mr. Jones invited me over his house on Christmas Day and I don’t want to lose my brownie points. Plus one of my sons mentioned he might fly in to spend Christmas with me.”
“You don’t have to come on Christmas. What about the day after? You can even buy a one-way ticket and then ride back with Hope and me on New Year’s Eve.”
“Like I said, let me think about it.”
There was an apparent animosity in Kevin’s voice.
“If you’re not ready, I understand.”
“No, no, I’m ready. I’ll look into flights tonight. It might be tight trying to get availability, since it’s the holidays.”
“You’re the man. I’m sure you’ll find something.”
“And then I have to find a hotel.”
“No way. I wouldn’t hear of it. My parents have a spare bedroom.”
“I can’t show up at your parents’ house for the first time and stay there.”
“You’re not some random Negro off the street. We’re getting married. They need to get to know you, so they can accept this. My sister, especially. She’s very picky and protective when it comes to men who come around me.”
“Is that right?” The sarcasm was evident. “What about her own man? Does she have one?”
“Hope believes in freedom of sexual expression. I can’t fathom her settling down with a man before she’s forty.” Kevin grew quiet. “I’m coming down with a headache. Can you get me a bottle of water out the machine down the hall? I have some Motrin in my purse.”
“Sure, baby.”
Kevin left out of the office to get my bottle of water. By the time he came back from the vending machine alcove, I was gone.
Hope was waiting for me behind a huge oak tree on the opposite side of the street from the administration building.
“Did you get it?” she asked before I could open my mouth to speak.
“Yeah, I got it,” I replied and then handed her a small high-definition, hard drive camcorder.
“Do you think he suspected anything?”
I shook my head. “Not a chance. He’s probably in there right now searching Orbitz for cheap flights to Atlanta.”
She gazed at me. “Are you upset that you had to do that?”
“No, it’s cool. What had to be done had to be done. Now, let’s finish this.”
Hope and I walked off together toward our dorm, in silence.
HOPE
Later that evening, Faith and I were on our way out of Mr. Jones’ office. As the vice president of Crockett University and a close confidante of ours during our four years there, we felt he was the best person to approach about the subject of Kevin Nelson.
Imagine his surprise—and disgust—as we relayed our story to him. We told him all about how “Mr. Nelson” had been taking advantage of both of us over the span of his first semester at the school. How after Mr. Jones had introduced Faith to him that day, he had shown up outside one of her classrooms in the engineering building less than a week later. How he had lured her into a sordid affair because we were having trouble keeping up with our tuition payments, in light of the state of the current economy. How he then insisted that I begin sleeping with him as well since he had always had this fantasy about bedding twins. How he had even had sex with both of us in his office on various occasions, as evidenced by the videotape evidence we presented him.
There was no audio on the tape. We made sure of that. We also made sure that nothing on the tape would make anyone speculate that Faith had been the aggressor of the sexual act. All Mr. Jones saw was Faith bent over the couch, being fucked mercilessly from behind from the angle of the camcorder that had been hidden on Kevin’s bookshelf among various finance books.
We told Mr. Jones that neither of us wanted to continue being forced into performing lewd sexual acts with “Mr. Nelson” and that our real concern was other young ladies that he might take advantage of sexually in the future—or possibly other current victims. Being the chief financial officer of the university gave him carte blanche access to student records and direct knowledge of who may be struggling to stay in school.
As we walked out of Mr. Jones’ office, Faith and I both realized that Kevin’s goose was cooked; charred even. His career at Crockett would soon be over and he would be lucky if he ever worked in the same field again.
We decided to leave for Atlanta that night. Why wait around for the asshole to show up at our dorm to cause a scene? He was blowing up Faith’s cell phone but to no avail. She was not about to answer and he never had my number.
Once we got near Richmond, about two hours out of D.C., we finally had the heart-to-heart conversation that was well overdue.
“Do you think we did the right thing?” Faith asked from the passenger seat of our Hummer H3. “We did lie to Mr. Jones. Kevin never forced either one of us into anything and it was never about money.”
“Granted, we took some liberties with the truth but…”
“Some?”
“Okay, we took a lot of liberties with the truth, but he deserved all of it and then some.” I honked at a slow-ass driver; probably a local who was in no hurry and was doing five below the speed limit in the left-hand lane. She moved out of my way when she noticed the size of my vehicle and headlights. “The nerve of him. A grown-ass man, old enough to be our father, playing with both of our emotions like that.”
I could see the anger in Faith’s eyes; even in the near darkness.
“Faith, I was wrong too. I was weak. He made me get all caught up in him and I did some really stupid and ridiculous things. I know you’re mad and you should be. I would be pissed off if you did that shit to me.”
She remained silent; just glaring at me.
“Look at it this way. I could have kept doing it. I could have gone away with him to the Poconos for the weekend like he wanted. I could have done a lot of dirty, skanky things but I didn’t. I cut his ass off.”
“You only cut him off because you found out he played you!” Faith yelled suddenly, almost causing me to swerve off the road. “This is not about your concern for me! This is about your selfishness! In all our years on this earth, we have never fucked the same man. At least, I don’t think we have.”
“This was the first time, I assure you,” I said with disdain. “I’m not trying to get down with your leftovers.”
“But that’s exactly what you did. Even if I believe you about the shit that went down at Dante’s Peak, what about the other times? What the hell were you thinking?”
I could have easily lashed out at Faith, talking a bunch of shit, and trying to deflect the guilt off of myself but decided that was not a smart move. Not with another eight hours or so before we reached Atlanta. Instead, I jerked the car off Interstate-95 onto an off-ramp.
“We need gas,” I announced. “And I need something with some damn caffeine in it.”
“Let me drive,” Faith suggested. “I think better when I drive.”
I pulled up to the gas pump and hopped out, stuck my credit card into the slot and then took t
he gas cap off the truck. Faith disappeared inside the convenience store and into the ladies room. I knew that she was in there cursing me out, probably slamming shit against the wall, and trying to regain her composure. By the time she came out of the restroom, I was in line to pay for a soda and a bag of chips.
“You want anything?” I asked as she walked past me and back outside.
When I got back to the truck, Faith was waiting on the driver’s side.
“I’ve got this,” I told her.
“I’m driving.”
I tried to get around her to open the driver’s door.
“I said, I’m driving,” she repeated.
“Faith, stop playing and move out the way.”
She pushed me…hard.
“Oh, so now you want to get rough with me?” I asked, getting pissed. “I’m not going to fight you over a man, Faith.”
“This isn’t about Kevin. This is about me and you.”
She pushed me again…harder.
I set my soda and chips down on the hood of the truck. “Now I’m not going to take that shit a third time. I don’t give a shit how mad you are ab—”
Faith hauled off and punched me in my face. I was stunned. My sister had never hit me before. A playful slap here and there; a pinch on the arm; a slight, fake kick on the ass. But she punched me…hard.
I lost it and hit her in the stomach, right in the gut.
“Oh no, the fuck you didn’t!” she exclaimed and then pushed me to the ground and started wailing on me.
I tried to push her off of me but she was a madwoman. She was punching and scratching and I was yanking her hair with one hand and pulling her ear with the other. I heard someone yell, “They’re out here fighting!” and then a crowd of people stood around watching us.
One of the male attendants rushed out the convenience store and tried to separate us, but once he had Faith lifted up off me, she turned around and squeezed his nuts, causing him to double over in pain.
“Stay the fuck out of this,” Faith warned him—and the others.
It took the police another five or six minutes to get there. By that time, both of us had busted lips, hair that had been ripped out of our heads was scattered all over the concrete, and there was a huge dent in the Hummer from where I had braced myself while Faith was pulling me backward onto the ground to scrap.
We ended up in separate jail cells in at the Richmond County Jail on Walton Way. They were directly across from each other. We stared at each other like we wanted to murder one another. Then Faith started laughing and it became contagious.
“What are you laughing about?” I asked, trying to hold back my own chuckling.
“Look at us. In jail, over a stupid-ass motherfucker who’s probably knee deep in another woman’s pussy at this very moment.”
I fell out laughing, envisioning it.
“Naw, he’s probably hunting for our asses on campus. Mr. Jones has surely made it clear that his career is over by now and he knows about our lies.”
“Fuck that six-eight piece of shit,” Faith said. “He deserves everything he gets.”
I stopped laughing and turned serious. “I really am sorry, Faith. I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you, but whatever you want me to do, I will.”
Faith’s laughter subsided as well. “You didn’t mean it; I realize that. I know you better than anyone else on the planet and we both have been stuck on stupid over some dick before. How do you think I feel? I was damn near ready to marry him and have his babies. How fucked up is that?”
“That would have been fucked up,” I agreed.
“In a way, this Jerry Springer moment is a good thing. Not the way it all went down but I needed to find out what kind of man Kevin is. If he’s capable of fucking you, he would have been cheating like crazy during our entire relationship.”
“True that.”
“Besides, I had no business thinking about settling down right now anyway. We’re about to graduate. We have our careers ahead of us. He would’ve held me back and, at the end of the day, I would’ve wasted a lot of valuable time for nothing.”
I nodded my head. “He’s not worthy of you. Men are full of shit. That’s why I play the field. I meet a man, use him for the only thing he’s good for, and then I bounce.”
“That’s the APF way,” Faith joked. “Damn, wait till the sorors hear about this.”
“You think we should tell them?” I asked, not quite comprehending the reasoning behind the thought.
“Hell yes. We have to tell them. The sorors of Alpha Phi Fuckem Sorority, Inc. keep no secrets from each other. Didn’t you read the handbook?”
“I memorized the entire handbook, hooker.”
“Whatever, label whore.”
I giggled. “I may be a label whore but even here, in lockdown, I look damn good.”
At that, Faith and I sat there and laughed and joked and reminisced until our parents showed up the next morning to bail us out and to get the Hummer out of impound. All charges were dropped after Faith and I threw ourselves at the mercy of the female judge during our arraignment. Even as a judge, she was still a female, and understood that dick makes women do silly things.
Our parents were not quite as understanding about the events. They wanted to know if we both needed therapy. Once we were back in Atlanta, we had an old-fashioned family meeting—like some sixties shit—and decided that we had to put the past in the past. Daddy wanted to find Kevin and put a bullet right between his eyeballs but we convinced him to let it go. We assured him that nothing like that would ever happen again. No one could come between two twins.
FAITH
September 2009
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Good thing that I did not marry Kevin’s ass. It would have been a long distance marriage for sure. I ended up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, of all godforsaken places. Other than a St. Patrick’s Day parade and a jazz festival, there was not going to be much for me to look forward to. All of that aside, I had landed a great job with a chemical plant making close to six figures right out of college, so it was all good. Besides, the world is a big place and if you only see a small part of it, you are missing out.
I did not plan to be in South Dakota more than a few years. I missed my parents and of course, I missed Hope. Her lucky ass ended up landing a job with the Los Angeles Times as an entertainment reporter. All those mock interviews that she wrote while she was in Ms. Heller’s class senior year had paid off. She had actually gotten to meet Denzel and I had to hold the phone away from my ear for the entire ten minutes that she was screaming about the experience afterward.
I was still in the process of trying to make friends and it was not an easy task. The people that I worked with were brainiacs and all of them were either married or shacking up. There were no “men of interest” at my job and besides, I had learned my lesson about shitting where I eat. I had followed that rule to the letter until I started fooling around with Kevin Nelson, and we know how that turned out.
I was going to take things slow, get to know myself, and keep a collection of about ten dildos and vibrators to get me through the dick drought. There was no APF chapter in Sioux Falls but I was hellbent on changing that. It would take time to find the right candidates. Not every woman is APF material. That’s for damn sure.
I was looking forward to the Alpha Phi Fuckem Convention in Jamaica in a couple of months. The conventions are always off the fucking chain. That’s when the older sorors, the ones who have been sexually liberated since before Hope and I were born, educate us pups on everything from dick sucking to investing our money wisely. More than two thousand usually show up. Damn! Dick, sun, and fun in Jamaica. Time could not waste away fast enough for me.
I went into my office, closed the door, and dialed Hope. She answered on the third ring.
“What you doing?” I asked, trying to live my life vicariously through her.
“On my way to Rodeo Drive to meet up with that new female ra
pper Reaction to interview her.”
“Oh, I don’t know her music.”
“But you will. She’s the next hottest thing.”
“Cool. Then what are you doing?”
“Having dinner with one of the sorors from the L.A. chapter.”
“I hate you,” I joked.
“No one told your ass to move to South Dakota. I don’t give a rat’s behind how much they are paying you, the trade off is not worth it.”
“So find me a job in Los Angeles and I’m on the first plane.”
“Don’t tempt me because I’ll fuck somebody to land you a job out here, if I have to.”
“No, I’m not trying to pimp you out like that.”
“Just say the word.”
We both laughed.
“I love you, Hope.”
“I love you, Faith.”
I hung up my phone and fought to hold back tears. I could do what had to be done. After all, Soror Ride ’em High is the shit.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Zane is the publisher of Strebor Books/ATRIA Books, a division of Simon and Schuster. She is the creator and co-executive producer of Zane’s Sex Chronicles, a Cinemax original series. She is the New York Times bestselling author of more than a dozen titles and she resides in the Washington, D.C. area. You can visit her on the web at www.eroticanoir.com.