A Hustler's Queen

by Saundra

  I had taken one ride too many from him, and that really was to benefit Keisha, but I wouldn’t have him drive me twice. I didn’t need him getting any ideas. As for bowling though, now that I could agree to. After jumping in the shower, I threw on a pair of jeans and a thin blouse, and hopped in my Toyota and got into traffic. I wanted to feel relaxed when I arrived, so I put on Sisqó’s “Incomplete.” I was crazy for old-school music and the song did the job.

  I pulled up to the Lucky Strike bowling alley, and to my surprise DaVon was standing outside, waiting on me. I hadn’t expected him to be outside, and while I wasn’t embarrassed about my car, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to see it. Driving off into the third row I found a parking spot and scrambled out.

  A huge smile spread across DaVon’s face as I approached him. He spoke up first. “Hey there, Ms. Lady.” Just looking at him made me want to melt. DaVon looked to be about six foot four, two hundred pounds, dark chocolate, a flat fade, and just plain handsome.

  “Hey,” I replied. “You didn’t have to stand out here and wait on me.”

  “I was inside, but then I started to worry you might not show. So I came out here to wait.”

  “You did not have to do that. If I said I was coming, I meant it.” I laughed.

  “A’ight, next time I’ll remember.”

  I smiled at his arrogance. What made him think there would be a second date?

  “Come on, let’s go inside.” He opened the door for me.

  Once inside, we got our shoes and picked our bowling balls. He said, “You don’t think you are about to beat me, do you?”

  “Actually, pretty sure I am. Just sit and watch.” I finished typing my name on the keyboard as one of the players. “Now you take lessons.” I fitted my fingers into the bowling bowl, then hit the lanes. Sizing up the pins and the distance, I set my stance and released the ball. I watched as the four pins close to the left side fell. I slowly turned around.

  Just as I thought, he had a huge grin on his face. “It’s okay. It’s early,” he joked.

  “And you are so right. Plus, this medium ball is too big. I might have to try a small.” I made up excuses. Picking up my ball again, I attempted another try. This time I knocked none of the pins down. I smiled as I faced him.

  He grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you this go around. Maybe I’ll leave one pin for a second chance.” Grabbing his ball, he made his way to the lanes. Once his ball started rolling, I watched as it slowly approached the pins; all fell but three.

  “So is that the new taking it easy?” I played at being sarcastic.

  “Yep. A little something, something.” He pulled the tip of his shirt like he was popping his collar. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Trying a few more of the small balls, I found one that fit me perfectly. “It’s on now,” I chanted.

  “You don’t really believe that’s going to help you?” He referred to my ball.

  “I guess we’ll see.” Strutting up to the lane, I sent my ball off without any contemplating. No surprise, I knocked all the pins down on the first try.

  “Okay, I see you. But I’m sure it’s just luck.”

  “You can call it that. But I assure you it’s not.” DaVon stepped up for his turn, but little did he know it was over for him. For the next thirty minutes I knocked down all of my pins almost every time. I was having so much fun. Until now, I hadn’t realized how much I missed bowling. I couldn’t help but laugh when DaVon realized I had hustled him from the beginning.

  “So were you gone tell me you’re a pro?”

  “No, I promise you this is beginner’s luck.” I laughed.

  “Nah, you ain’t foolin’ me. Come clean.”

  “A’ight, you got me. My dad and I bowled a couple times a week. It was our thing. He taught me since I was like nine. He was the pro. He was on a bowling team and they were like serious, competing in contests all over the city, winning money.”

  “Oh, so you just gone hustle me, huh?”

  “Not hustle. School,” I joked.

  “A’ight, it’s cool. I got to give you your props . . . You want to get some wings or something from the bar?”

  “Nah, I’m thirsty though. I’ll take a Coke.”

  “A’ight, sit here and chill. I’ll be right back.” He walked away but stopped and turned to face me. “Aye, and no cheating. That means don’t take my turn.” He chuckled.

  “Your turn is safe with me.” I laughed.

  While he was off getting my Coke, I glanced around the bowling alley for the first time and took it all in. I thought about my dad. I could see him placing his bowling bag on the table, taking out the bowling ball and all but kissing it, with a gleam in his eyes. He had true love for the game.

  “Coke on ice,” DaVon announced as he approached, bringing my thoughts back to reality.

  “Thank you.” I immediately took a huge swig from the straw. I was really thirsty.

  “So I take it you and your family are from here?” He also had a pitcher of beer and a frosty cold glass on a tray.

  I really wasn’t prepared to talk about my family, or lack thereof, mainly because there wasn’t much to say. But I was enjoying myself, and what could it hurt? “Actually, I don’t have a lot of family. It’s just me and my dad . . . I mean was me and my dad . . .” I paused because the last part was just hard to say. “My dad . . . he died recently.” I took another drink, but while the straw was at my lips, I caught the all-too-familiar sadness that was in DaVon’s eyes.

  “What about you? Where is your family?” Surely, he didn’t mind me getting personal since he wasted no time checking my family history.

  “Well, let me see . . .” He seemed to go into deep thought. His breathing slowed; his hurt was apparent. I pushed mine aside and braced for the sad news he was sure to deliver. “My mom died in childbirth when I was ten, leaving me the only child. I went to live with my aunt, but she died two years after my mother. My aunt didn’t have kids and their parents were dead . . . all my life it had only been my mom and aunt around. From what I knew, we had other relatives, but none that we were in touch with. So with no one to claim me, I ended up in foster care.” I thought I saw water fill his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone.

  The mention of foster care made my heart break for him. Thankfully, my dad had been around until I was an adult. But it felt ironic knowing our backgrounds were somewhat similar: We both were the only child, no parents or family. “Wait, what about your dad?” I realized he hadn’t mentioned him.

  “I never knew the bastard,” he said flat out. But the tone of his voice was geared more toward anger than hurt.

  After that, I decided it was time to change the conversation to something else because if we kept up with this one we would both be in tears. To get back on the positive side, I grabbed my bowling ball and promised to finish my win. And I made good on the promise. We laughed and talked the entire time; his conversation was good.

  I enjoyed myself so much that I agreed to go out with him on a second date. That date turned into another, and by the third date, DaVon made it clear that he was feeling me. And I was enjoying him, but I was not ready to say it. I needed time to get my thoughts together. I had a lot to focus on, and he seemed to understand.

  * * *

  “Damn, Precious. I know you didn’t forget to get ranch with these buffalo wings. Cause ain’t no way I can eat these wings without it.” Like a madwoman Keisha searched the bag the wings had been in.

  “They didn’t put none in the bag?” I said, surprised. I had ordered a fifty-piece wing tray, so it should have been common sense for them to put ranch or some type of dipping sauce in the bag.

  “Girl, you know you have to ask. These bitches are simple.” Keisha had thrown down the bag, given up her ranch hunt. She bit into a wing.

  “Ain’t that it,” I said in agreement. I shook my head from disappointment. “Check the fridge though, it’s some in there.” I pulled a few wineglasses out of the cab
inet. Keisha had come through so that we could hang out. I had stopped off and got some wings, some wine, and a few other snacks so that we could catch up. It had been a few weeks since we had been able to kick it.

  “Saved by the bell!” Keisha chanted as she pulled the ranch from the fridge. “I swear them bitches up there was about to hear from me.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at her threat, cause I felt the same way. “Come on, grab the wings. I got the wine and other snacks in the living room.” I led the way.

  In the living room, we sat down and got comfortable and geared up to chat. I filled both of our wineglasses with Moscato.

  “These wings are so good. Addicting is the only way I know how to describe them.” Keisha’s wing was dripping with ranch. I threw a few on my saucer and scooted back on the couch.

  “So you gone tell me what’s up with DaVon, or what? The last I heard a few weeks back you two were going bowling.”

  “And we did.” I bit off my wing and chewed. I had known these questions were coming.

  “And?” Keisha pressured me to give her more.

  “The date was cool . . . DaVon, he cool too. But since that date we been on several others,” I admitted.

  “Shit for real? Well you mighty calm about the situation to say y’all been on several dates. Don’t hold out. Spill all the juicy. Did he hit it?” Her eyebrows raised.

  Her question sent me to the edge of the couch because I knew she was not asking me what I thought. “Did he hit what?”

  “Bitch, it! That ass. Fuck, you mean it?”

  “Hell no. I just met him.” My mouth was wide-open from shock.

  Keisha laughed. “Shit, there ain’t no time stamp on sex. You feelin’ him. So what’s the problem? Precious, you a grown-ass woman. And he fine as hell too. Unless you blind.” She didn’t wait on me to answer the question and gave me reason all at the same time.

  “All that may be true. But I ain’t no ho.” I hoped I was clear on the matter.

  “Ain’t nobody labeling you as no ho, but word of advice you better stop playin’ around. DaVon a catch. And in these gritty streets that shit hard to come by.”

  That, too, was true, but in my opinion that was no reason to go jumping in the bed with him either. “You right, I might be moving too slow, but he don’t need me. Buffy seemed to make it clear at the club that she wants him anyway.”

  “Girl, DaVon don’t want Buffy’s ass and she knows that. Trust. Hell, don’t even take her seriously.” Keisha smiled, then pulled out a small baggy with weed in it. She shook the bag in my face. “I’m done with all the small talk. Let’s roll up. You gone chief with me.”

  “Nah, I’m cool, this the only peace I need.” I raised my wineglass. “Like I told you before, I don’t do that.” I nodded my head at the bag.

  “Hmm, I guess ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ that if you choose.” She giggled. “But for me this offers freedom, and I need that.” She pulled out a Swisher and I watched her as she sliced it open down the middle, emptied the contents, and then filled it with green trees. I really wasn’t into it, but I had to be honest, the smell was enticing. After licking the blunt and making sure it was sealed to her liking, Keisha gave me a wide grin, then pulled out her lighter and lit it. I watched her inhale then slowly blow the smoke out.

  “Listen, don’t let DaVon’s fine ass slip through your fingers. You’ll regret it.”

  “Keisha, we only been on a few dates. I’ma just let it flow and see what happens. Besides, I can’t look forward to much, school is still my main focus. I don’t want to let anything throw me off that path. Enough time been wasted on me not getting my education already.”

  “Yo to school, I say fuck that. I ain’t sayin’ forget about it altogether, but hey, DaVon got money. Plenty of it.” She stressed that part. “He can buy you whatever you want . . . You like my car, right? You want one just like it, right? Well, DaVon the man who can get it for you. Hell, two or three of them to be exact.”

  Just watching Keisha was comical, her facial expressions were serious yet dramatic. And she held on to that blunt so tight I thought she might squeeze the weed out of it. I couldn’t help but laugh; she was making her point. “Keisha, you are a gold digger for sure.” I sipped my wine and laughed some more.

  Unfazed, Keisha hit her blunt. Next, she reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of money. From where I was sitting, I could make out they were all hundred-dollar bills. “Now you can call me what you want, but this spends.” She started shaking the money in the air. That was another point she was attempting to make. And I couldn’t help but agree, but that still didn’t change my mind. My dad had raised me to be independent, to think for myself, to trust in myself. To him, that was an important foundation, so I didn’t know anything else. Money was good, and I knew better than anyone that it was needed, that it made the world go around, but I didn’t believe that it was worth everything, that you sold your soul for it. And for that I thanked my dad. But instead of saying that to Keisha, I chose to sip my wine, bit off another wing, and watched her slide that beautiful stack back into her beautiful Burberry bag.

  Chapter 10

  Talking to Keisha and hearing all her reasons as to why I needed to date DaVon, I came to the conclusion that maybe I was moving too fast going on all those dates with him. At first the dates were fun, but once Keisha put a price on it, it felt complicated. So I decided to just chill for a minute. Now I just had to share that with him, but I hadn’t decided how to tell him. Sipping on my strawberry daiquiri, I watched my cell phone as his name ran across the screen. I had been ignoring his calls for the past few days. I didn’t feel good about it, but I didn’t know what else to do. This dating thing was new to me since my dad hadn’t allowed it.

  Then I started to wonder if my dad would have approved of DaVon. Besides knowing he grew up in foster homes and was parentless like me, I didn’t know much else about him. He appeared to be a good guy. Out of everything Keisha had mentioned about him, that was the one and most important thing that she left out. But how much should I know about a guy before getting serious?

  But I also knew it was hard for my dad to approve of any guy who liked me. I was his one and only precious daughter, and he didn’t want anyone to take that away. Just thinking about him brought a huge smile to my face. Picking up my daiquiri, I suddenly had the urge to be close to my dad. I walked to Dad’s room and started going through a few of his belongings. I had planned to go through them eventually, but it had just taken longer than I expected. The empty boxes I had planned to use to store things were scattered about the room as if they had been waiting on me. Truthfully, I just had not been ready, but now I was. I pulled out things one by one and determined what needed to go into the boxes that would go into the attic.

  I fought tears as I picked up an old locket that Dad had shown me when I was about twelve years old. At that time, he had stressed to me how important the locket was to the family, as it had come from his mother. It was the one and only thing besides a few pictures that he had that belonged to her. My tears of sadness turned to tears of joy as I opened the locket and observed the picture inside of my grandmother and my father when he was a kid. I smiled as the idea entered my head to have it cleaned up. I closed the locket, kissed it, and carefully put it to the side. It would not be going into the attic. Next, I decided to go through the brown trunk that had forever sat in the corner of his closet. Pulling it out into the middle of the floor, I was surprised to find it locked. But then I remembered some keys I had found in his chest of drawers under his polo shirts. I wondered if one of those keys fit. Making my way over to the chest, I retrieved the keys.

  Luckily, one of them worked and I was glad because I was not in the mood to be searching for more keys or breaking my way inside. To my shock, the trunk was full of women’s clothing, petite in size. I knew right away the neatly folded clothes didn’t belong to me. The style of the clothes was old-fashioned. Curious, I started to pull them out. Then I star
ted to wonder who they could have belonged to. At the bottom of the trunk, I felt something hard. I removed the piece of clothing on top of the object and discovered a green box. Slowly, I pulled off the lid. Inside was a stack of letters. I saw that they were addressed to my dad.

  I needed to know what the letters said. I removed the thick, tan-colored rubber band, took the papers from each envelope, and read the letters one by one. They were from my mother. In each one, she begged my father to let her see me, and each letter contained a telephone number where she could be contacted. As I approached the bottom of the pile, I realized that the last letter was postmarked when I was about six years old. From the looks of it, no letters had come after that, or they just were not in the box.

  Confused and filled with emptiness, I folded the letters up, placed them back inside the envelopes, and put the lid on top of the green box. Suddenly all types of crazy, wild thoughts invaded my mind. What did these letters mean? Did they mean anything at all? My dad always had told me that my mother, Lacey, was dead. According to him, she had died when I was a baby. Annoyed, I become extremely agitated as I realized I had never asked how she died but also that he had never offered the information. He had been there for me, taking care of me, for as long as I could remember. So when it came to my mother, I hadn’t dwelled on it. There had been a stint in high school when I was a bit curious about her as a person and I had tried to ask him a few things. But he had been so saddened by me talking about her that I stopped asking.

  But here I was, faced with these letters from my supposedly dead mother, who should have been dead when these were written. She had written on my birthdays and holidays consistently. Tears flowed from my eyes like busted faucets. My gut churned with nausea. I held my stomach and questioned myself. Had my father lied to me? Suddenly, my tears were anger. Why had my dad lied to me? I had trusted him and only him all of my life. Believed every word out of his mouth, never once questioned anything. Here I was, left alone in this world, when I could have known my mother. Why? Why lie to me all of my life?