When Jermaine entered his bedroom, Karen was lying across the bed naked, playing with her clitoris, while watching a porno movie.
“Bring it to me, baby,” demanded Karen, but Jermaine’s mind was far from sex.
“I don’t think sex is a good idea tonight, sweetheart. The logical thing to do based on what you’ve been doing is to first take you to a clinic to make sure you’re okay. Besides, we still need to talk.” Jermaine then sat at the edge of the bed.
Karen continued fingering herself.
“I need you, baby, and I need you right now. Don’t worry, I’m clean. If I had a disease I would know it,” she replied, rubbing her clit, never taking her eyes off the movie.
“No sex until I take you to have you checked out,” clarified Jermaine. The finality of his words annoyed her.
“I don’t have a goddamn disease, Jermaine! Goddammit, if I had one I would know!” she replied, raising her voice.
“I don’t sense an attitude, do I, Karen?” He could not believe that she copped an attitude because he wouldn’t have sex with her.
“Fuck it then, I’ll get myself off.” She then closed her eyes and imagined Tyrone’s huge penis while twirling her pearl tongue piercing in a circular motion. In less than a minute she came. Minutes later she fell asleep.
Dammit, I still didn’t get a chance to talk to her. What the hell; I know she’s tired from running the streets. I’ll talk to her in the morning, thought Jermaine. He then climbed into bed, said a prayer, and then fell asleep.
Jermaine awakened at 5:00AM the following morning. After showering, he then went downstairs and began cooking breakfast. During the course of cooking he seated himself at his computer and attempted to work on his manuscript, but impulsive thoughts of Karen’s recent words and activities kept attacking his mind. I can’t hold it any longer. I’ve got to get this off my chest, right now, he thought. Then he made his way back upstairs.
He walked around to her bedside and stared at her a few moments. Two weeks of smoking crack and street life had deconstructed her whole damn face. Her jaws were sucked in, her eye sockets didn’t look the same, she was already thin but had dropped at least ten more pounds. He shook his head as he looked down at her. Damn, Karen, why in the hell did you mess yourself up like this? You were so beautiful and innocent looking, but now—
“Karen, wake up,” said Jermaine, but Karen did not respond. She lay there, snoring with her mouth wide open and slobber leaking down its sides.
“Wake up, Karen, we’ve gotta talk,” Jermaine said again, but this he shook her.
“What? Leave me alone. I wanna sleep, baby. I’m tired,” replied Karen, without ever looking at him.
Realizing how important having a talk with her was, Jermaine attempted again to awaken her.
“Wake up, Karen.” He raised his voice a few notches. “We need to talk right this minute; not in a couple of hours, not tomorrow, not next year, but right now.”
Sensing the firmness in his voice, she opened her eyes and gave him a hard look.
“What is more important than my fuckin’ rest, Jermaine?”
“Hey, don’t get an attitude, okay? I told you last night that we need to talk.”
“I know what you said last night, Jermaine, but why in the hell did you have to disrupt my sleep to have a fuckin’ conversation? That’s disrespectful; that’s very fuckin’ selfish and disrespectful.”
“Excuse me? Did you say that waking you up was disrespectful? Karen, you’re unbelievable sometimes, you know. First of all, you disrespected yourself, me, and the kids when you took that hit of crack. Secondly, you completely disrespected me by fucking and sucking other men. Thirdly, and the list goes on, you have no defense whatsoever in the matter of this bullshit, so if I were you I would be grateful and thankful that my mate cared enough for me and had enough love for me to rescue me from the streets.”
“What is it, Jermaine? Go ahead and take the stage,” replied Karen, propping a pillow underneath her head.
Jermaine sat at the edge of the bed and looked at her.
“First of all, the only way I’m accepting you back is that you go to rehab, a clinic, and to see your probation officer. Do you have a problem with these requests?”
“No, Jermaine, I don’t have a problem with them.”
“Good. Most importantly, Karen, I want you to know that I’m very disappointed with you, but I do forgive you because I have not been an angel my whole life and God has forgiven me.”
“I tried to show you my appreciation last night, Jermaine, but you—”
“Giving me a head job or riding the hell out of my dick is not a way of displaying appreciation, Karen. Sex is merely for pleasure; not for showing thanks or gratitude,” Jermaine explained.
“Whatever, Jermaine. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“I don’t think so. We’ve got lots of business to take care of today so get up and get yourself ready. Breakfast will be done by the time you get downstairs.”
Their first stop was at the probation department. A few moments after they seated themselves in the lobby, Mrs. Carter appeared. “Well, hello, Mrs. Missing in Action,” greeted P.O. Carter. Then she led them to her booth and continued talking.
“You don’t know how blessed you really are to have a husband who cares so much about you. If it wasn’t for him, I would lock you up right now without even hearing your sad story, Karen. I thought that you were on the right track, but once again you had me fooled and manipulated.”
“I’m sorry for relapsing, Mrs. Carter. Believe me, I regret it and I know it was a stupid thing to do after all the positive things I have going on in my life. It was a combination of the party, the friends I grew up with that I hadn’t seen in years, and the alcohol, that caused me to lose my focus and self-control, which led to my relapse. Once I had taken that first hit, that was it,” explained Karen.
“You’re always making excuses for your failures, Karen. Ever since I’ve known you, you have made excuses for being late to your appointments or for not showing up, for relapsing, for not having a job, for being broke, for not having transportation, for having your kids taken away from you, for violent acts that you’ve committed on people, and basically for just about everything. You cannot go through life making excuses for your failures. I know that your system is full of crack, therefore I am not going to ask you to test, but what I am going to instruct you to do is to enroll, today, into a six-month live-in drug rehabilitation program. Your other option is prison. Actually, you don’t have an option, but because of your husband and his concern for you and your kids, I’m giving you the easy way out. Don’t fuck up anymore, Karen. This is your last chance from me,” said the P.O. firmly, staring hard at Karen.
Their next stop was the clinic. It was a good thing that Jermaine followed his first mind by not having sex with Karen. Her blood sample revealed that she was positive for syphilis and gonorrhea, and she also had crabs. It was a good thing she came when she did. After the results were given, Jermaine pulled the doctor to the side and asked him a question.
“Doc, I feel ashamed to ask you this question, but it’s something I really need to know. Is it possible for a man to catch a disease by receiving oral sex from a woman?”
“That’s a very good question, sir. If more people asked that same question, there would be a tremendous decrease of sexually transmitted diseases. The answer to your question is yes, simply because women carry more germs inside their mouths than they do inside of their vaginas. Think about it; a rotten tooth, an abscess or bad breath, each contribute to germs and bacteria, which will sooner or later trigger a form of a disease or infection.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“No problem. Remember, no question is a stupid question,” said the doctor.
Damn, thought Jermaine, walking back toward Karen. Hell, I can’t even get some head from her.
Then he approached her.
“You see, you could have given me a damn disease, Karen. I�
�m glad I didn’t let my little head outthink my big one.”
“Yeah, you do have a little one,” Karen mumbled, but not loud enough for him to hear.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Karen was not shocked at all when hearing the test results.
“Shit happens when you’re in the street, that’s all I have to say,” replied Karen. She remained emotionless and unashamed.
Their next stop was to see the kids at Jewell’s house. Figuring that Jewell’s husband Bobby would have something negative to say, Karen really did not want to go there, but she had to see her kids before leaving for the drug rehab.
After she walked inside, Bobby stared at her with those huge red eyes and shook his head in disgust. Then he took a long gulp of beer and continued silently staring at her. His look spelled hatred.
Karen actually never looked his way nor spoke to him.
Jewell didn’t have too much to say to her sister either, simply because she was fed up with Karen’s unnecessary shit. Each time Karen relapsed or went to jail Jewell would get stuck with her kids.
Jermaine and Karen sat with the kids a couple of hours and then dismissed themselves to continue taking care of their unfinished business.
Jermaine then took Karen to see her psychiatrist and to get a refill of medication.
Afterward, Karen led Jermaine back to Pasadena to find the crack dealer that she had pawned his Mustang to. She knew exactly where to find him. The crack dealer told Jermaine that he had fronted Karen four hundred dollars in crack in exchange for two weeks’ use of the vehicle.
“Y’all ain’t gonna beat me out of my time, aw hell naw. Somebody’s gotta come up with some serious cheese or I’m keepin’ till I get paid in full. That’s it and that’s all, homey,” said the drug dealer.
“Why you tryin’ to—”
“Be quiet, Karen, and let me handle this,” said Jermaine, interrupting her. He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was about to say something disrespectful that may possibly get him in some shit. He then peeled off eight one-hundred-dollar-bills and handed them to the dealer.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” replied the dealer, handing Jermaine the keys. The man then walked away.
Jermaine then instructed Karen to follow him in the Beamer. He wanted to make sure his Mustang ran the same.
While following Jermaine back to Lancaster, Karen began thinking, Damn, he really does love me. I better stay on the right track and treat this man with love and respect before someone else gets him. There are plenty of women out there that would love him, respect him, and appreciate him for who he is and for his position in life, especially when he doesn’t mind taking care of their kids. I better check myself before I wreck myself.
Their next stop was a live-in drug program located in Palmdale, California. The reason that Karen had knowledge of the program was because a judge had sentenced her to a year there a year and a half earlier. She completed the program, but after a few days on the streets and being influenced by her crackhead boyfriend she started smoking again.
The program was privately owned and operated by two heavyset African American lesbians named Gina and Pat. When Karen was there previously the State of California owned the place, but seven months earlier the place was up for grabs and fortunately Gina and Pat not only had the money to buy it, but also met the requirements to operate it. The reason Karen had suggested that particular program was because the staff liked her and helped her and even lied for her to get her out of a few jams. She knew that they would show her love, or simply turn their heads if she happened to get herself in any adverse situation.
After Karen and Jermaine completed the paperwork, Gina and Pat began laying down their rules and regulations in a rigid and direct manner.
“During your first thirty days you will not leave the program under any circumstances,” said Pat, decisively, giving Karen a solid look. Then she continued.
“There is absolutely zero tolerance here for drugs, alcohol, or any form of sexual activity. There is no horseplaying or fighting! You cannot receive any visits, under no circumstances, until your thirty days are up. Do your chores and assignments as instructed! Lights out at ten PM and everyone here must be out of bed by seven AM. Once working, that is after your thirty days are up, your rent must be paid on time or late charges will incur. Failure to comply with these rules and regulations will result in an automatic termination of program, and your probation officer will be immediately notified.”
Karen sensed that she was not going to get along with Pat or Gina, but she was willing to try her best.
“Okay, sir, you can go now,” Gina said to Jermaine.
Jermaine then sat down the two duffel bags filled with Karen’s belongings at her side, and then kissed her goodbye.
“Jermaine, you can’t imagine how much I really love you,” Karen said, as he walked away.
“You’re just like the rest of them,” interrupted Gina. “None of y’all don’t even know how to love yourselves, so how in the hell can you love someone else?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said, I didn’t stutter. I can already tell that I’m gonna have problems with you. You must have one of those short-people complexes or something. I don’t know why most short people have big mouths. And sir, I told you that you can go. Come back in thirty days, that is, if she doesn’t get any write-ups that could keep her inside thirty additional days,” Gina said, holding her hands on her hips.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” Jermaine responded before exiting the building.
Pat then escorted Karen to her room.
During his ride home Jermaine entertained the thought of finding a local truck driving job. He figured that might be a major factor in getting his marriage back on the right track. He partially blamed himself for Karen’s relapse due to his absence.
The following day Jermaine applied and was hired driving for Albertsons supermarket. Because of his experience and good driving record they started him with $18.50 an hour, which was a little less than he was making driving cross-country, but it was enough to pay his bills and was also enough for him to drop at least a thousand in his savings account each paycheck. He was scheduled to begin work in three days. By then Albertsons would have received the results from his background and drug test.
Chapter 6
While sitting on his mother’s porch under the influence of alcohol and PCP, Tyrone was contemplating on how to kill Karen for what she had done to him. He refused to put her out of his mind until he dealt with her. He and his homeboys drove to Lancaster twice a week hoping to see Karen, but had not run across her.
“That bitch can run, homey, but she can’t hide forever!” Tyrone said to his homeboys.
Boldly, a couple times he had even gone back to Denise’s apartment to ask if they had seen her.
“We haven’t seen her,” Denise said to him.
“Hey man, no disrespect to you or your crew, but I appreciate if you don’t come here anymore. I understand how you feel about what Karen did to you, but on the other hand I feel that you are disrespecting me and my house by coming here. After all, man, you did shoot me. I just can’t forget about it the way you think I should,” explained Maurice.
“I feel you, homey,” Tyrone replied. “But one thing I ain’t into is kissin’ ass, you know what I’m sayin’. I do things gangsta style, cuz, regardless of how the results might turn out, you know what I’m sayin’. Just thank God you living’, nigga. Put that shit behind you, cuz, that’s all I’m sayin’, nigga. But if you see that bitch, holla at me. I gotta keep it gangsta, cuz. I don’t care what time of day or night it is, just holla at me. Here’s my cell number. Like I said the last time I was here, homey; I apologize for shooting you, and I don’t mean any disrespect to your crib or family. I’m just out to get that bitch, cuz.”
Tyrone and his crew then walked away.
Denise or Maurice did not feel good about a
ccepting Tyrone’s number, but what the hell; they also wanted revenge on Karen. They felt that Karen had betrayed and deceived them and wanted to see something drastic happen to her.
Tyrone continuously shouted from his mother’s porch.
“I’m gonna kill that bitch, cuz! She fucked me up for life, and I guarantee you that bitch gonna get what’s comin’ to her, in a real way!” Tyrone yelled, feeling a streak of pain in his penis.
“I’m gonna kill that bitch, cuz!”
His penis was so sore that he hadn’t had sex since Karen sliced it. The doctors had told him that it would probably take close to six months for his wounds to completely heal. They recommended no sex or masturbation. Killing Karen was definitely on Tyrone’s mind.
Just as Karen had anticipated, she did not get along with Gina, Pat, or any of the women in the program. Because Karen only stood four foot two, she felt that people always tried to take advantage of her. Regardless of her height, her favorite saying was, “Dynamite comes in small packages!”
After Jermaine had departed the rehab program that day, Gina entered Karen’s room.
“I know you’ve been out in the streets and haven’t been keeping up your hygiene, so first and foremost, I want you to take a shower. And make sure you wash your ass thoroughly,” Gina instructed.
Trying to keep the peace and comply, Karen did what she was asked to do.
Gina followed her to the shower, and then stood there watching Karen undress and shower. Gina instantly got wet between her legs watching Karen lather herself up. Her imagination began running wild as she visualized herself making love to Karen.
“Can I have some privacy, Gina?” Karen asked, noticing the look in Gina’s eyes.
“When I’m ready for you to have some privacy, you’ll have it. Until then, you little tramp-bitch, this is my world and don’t you forget it,” replied Gina, matter-of-factly.
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