The Demise of Alexis Vancamp

by Karen P. Williams

  After twenty more minutes of waiting, I could no longer hold my bladder. I silently asked myself why I was going through with this nonsense. I didn’t know if I was taking that stance now because it was how I sincerely felt or because I had to pee.

  I started my ignition, put my car in drive, and pulled off while simultaneously snapping my seat belt. I drove up the street pretty fast, preparing to make a left turn, but a red Impala turned down the street quickly, blasting Nicki Minaj’s “Stupid Hoe.” She made her turn so fast and wide she nearly collided with my car.

  I hit my brakes quickly and placed a hand over my heart, which started beating rapidly.

  She put her head out the window and yelled in a ghetto voice, “Bitch. Watch where the fuck you going!”

  I fearfully looked away and waited for her to drive past me so I could turn and get off that street before her ghetto ass hurled more insults my way. “And they wonder why white people look down on us,” I mumbled to myself. I eyed her in my rearview mirror. I gasped when she pulled into the driveway of the house I had been watching. I wondered if it was her or Trisha. Spokeo also said that Reina Brown had two kids who lived with her. It didn’t mention anything about Trisha having kids. I backed up slightly and watched her get out of the car, as two kids got out of the back seat. Before she got a chance to look my way again I skidded down the street. I was definitely going to confront Santana about this.

  As I drove, tears were in my eyes and I believed the worst about her and my man: that she was having an affair with him. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way,” I told myself miserably, as all sorts of scenarios played out in my head of him and her. I drove to the 710 freeway and jumped on it in a frenzy. I fought my way through traffic, switching to the 91, then the 110, and went over to Santana’s pad.

  Chapter 7

  One thing is for sure, I thought. He doesn’t have that woman’s number for nothing. Once I got to his apartment, I parked my car on the street and marched up to his door. I didn’t bother knocking. I simply opened the door and stormed inside, yelling, “Santana! I need to talk to . . .”

  My voice trailed off when I saw him look at me, surprised, and two more visitors sitting on the couch. I studied them quickly. They were two dudes, both with long dreads in their hair. The older one was light brown with dreads so long they were pulled back in a ponytail, while the younger brown-skinned guy’s dreads went to his shoulders.

  I stuttered, “Ahhh.”

  Santana looked at me with an annoyed look on his face.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were having company.”

  Neither of the dreaded men even acknowledged me. So I didn’t bother to acknowledge them.

  “Me out. Chu know where me be posted,” the older one said. They both stood to their feet and exited Santana’s apartment.

  “All right,” Santana said. “I’ll hit you up.”

  Once the door closed, I turned to Santana, not having a good feeling about the two men. “Who are they?”

  “Man.” He gave me an agitated look. “Fuck out of mine.”

  “What?” I asked, even though I had heard him pretty much say to stay out of his business.

  “You heard what I said. You ain’t all in mine and you ain’t never going to be.”

  I sat down on the couch, put my face in my hands, and started crying. It had no effect on him. He just stared at me blankly; in comparison, Dannon would have comforted me. But that was just making me a baby. Santana was turning me into a real woman. A stronger woman.

  “Are you seeing someone else?” I demanded. When he didn’t respond I continued to blabber, “Because I looked in your phone and saw a number and I called it and she said . . .” Blah, blah, blah. I told him all that I had done, except for looking her up and going to the girl’s house, despite the fact that I told myself I wasn’t going to even mention anything to him. But I needed to know. Plain and simple.

  His head fell back and he laughed. “So you see a number in my phone and you do some PI type of shit. Man. Your family should have put you in therapy, girl. You worried about a bitch who is all in your head who you ain’t never seen me with. Your nigga right here though.” He grabbed his dick. “And he hard, and he hungry.”

  I got defensive. “I didn’t make it up. The number is in your phone.”

  “That bitch is about business. Plain and simple. She goes to my school. She wanted me to talk to her little brother about going to school and staying out of trouble. I ain’t never been to her house or nothing like that shit you talking about.”

  I immediately felt bad for the spying. Here he was doing something nice and I was thinking he was screwing her. How stupid I was!

  “It’s other things in the world to worry about besides bitches. Your ass needs to be worrying about yo’ nigga and what my needs are.”

  He was right and all I could do was nod, feeling instant relief that it wasn’t what I thought it was.

  “Come here.”

  I walked over to him and stood in front of him. He sat on the edge of the couch and rubbed his hands up and down my butt, turning me on in an instant.

  “And suppose I’m fucking somebody else. What were you going to do about it?” He rubbed a finger between my legs, looking at me with a cocky expression. I was getting wet because of what he was doing and the way he was looking at me.

  I responded by moaning.

  “Let me answer that for you. Nothing. Girl, you addicted to this dick. You ain’t going nowhere.”

  He was right. I was addicted to him and sometimes I felt as though I couldn’t handle this shit, that it was just too much, because day by day, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into him. Just earlier, I had fear and dread that he was seeing someone else and now I was convinced that he wasn’t. But still, I wondered, if he really was seeing another woman, would I be able to let him go? Probably not. That was what scared me: the fact that I felt I would have an inability to leave him. I pushed those thoughts out of my head and went into the kitchen.

  I made him chicken breasts stuffed with bacon, bell peppers, scallions, and cheese. I peeled and boiled some potatoes, mashed them, and mixed them with some cream cheese, real butter, salt and pepper. I also made some string beans mixed with onion and sausage. I had put a bottle of Moët in the freezer so it was perfectly chilled when I brought his food to him.

  He ate with relish and it made me feel good to see I had pleased him after I had questioned him about the girl. I was so glad my mother had taught my sister and me how to cook and bake. She always told me that just because we had some money didn’t mean that we should neglect those two things. They were attributes that all women should have. All men wanted their women to know how to make a home-cooked meal.

  I rubbed his shoulders while he ate and when he was done, I put his plate in the kitchen, washed the dishes, and put the leftover food away.

  I stripped down and sat on the couch, anticipating what was to come next.

  He came and stood in front of me, asking, “You know you got work to do right?”

  I nodded. Thing was, I loved pleasing him. He dropped his pants and I quickly kneeled in front of him and proceeded to suck and lick on his dick until I felt his body tense up. When he had enough, he pulled his dick out of my mouth.

  He told me get on all fours. Once I did, he wiped saliva onto my anal hole. I knew we were about to have anal sex. Dannon had never had anal sex with me. He said it was very unsafe and that it tore skin. I chalked that up to Dannon being paranoid because now, I saw no harm in it with Santana. I bore down at the initial pain of my tight skin loosening up. I gritted my teeth as the full ten inches of him slid into me. And I took all of it, counting down in my head as the pain subsided and he was putting it on me in a way that was driving me insane and felt so damn good. I screamed at the top of my lungs and gripped the carpet with my fingernails.

  He pumped me roughly. “You like this shit huh?”

  “Yes,” I moaned.

  “You ain�
�t had anyone give it to you like me huh?”

  “No. No one.”

  He jabbed me with his dick. “You ain’t going to leave me huh?”

  He sped up the tempo, making me drown out his words with my screams of passion. He grabbed my ponytail and yanked it as he rode me.

  “You hear me fucking talking to you?”

  “No! No!” And I meant that shit. Every syllable of it.

  He laughed. “You done met your match with me.”

  I knew I had slipped deeper just in that moment.

  Chapter 8

  I was on cloud nine the next day at work. I was thinking about how good I enjoyed myself at Santana’s house. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about that man. That’s how my days had been the past couple months. Jesus Christ, that man! I was on pins and needles for my day to end so I could rush over to see him.

  After doing a little paperwork, I dialed Santana’s cell phone. After the third ring, a female picked it up and said, “Hello?”

  Instantly, my heart started beating fast and my hands started shaking. I dropped the phone, bent over to retrieve it, and bumped my head on my desk.

  “Shit!”

  I couldn’t stop my fingers from shaking as I dialed his number again. This time someone picked up but I was greeted with silence.

  I assumed it was him. “Santana! Say something!” I shouted into the phone. When I was greeted with silence, I said, “I’m coming over there!”

  I grabbed my purse keys and cell phone. I locked up quickly and ran to my car.

  Once I closed the space between myself and my car, I heard my name called. I turned around and spotted Marisol, the manager for our complex in Cerritos.

  She rushed up to me breathlessly. “I’m glad I caught you. I—”

  I cut her off. “Now is not a good time.”

  “I just wanted to drop off the rent deposits—”

  “Now is not a good fucking time!” I unlocked my door and hopped in my car. When she stared at me in shock I said, “Get the fuck out of my way,” and pulled off.

  When I made it to Santana’s house, I discovered he wasn’t there. I was going to call his phone but thought smarter and went over to the house in Compton. And sure enough when I got there I saw his Chrysler 300 parked next her Impala. If he had never been to her house before what was he doing there now? I was so disappointed in him being dishonest with me.

  I parked on the street and got out of my car with fury. My feelings were so hurt from his deception. I stood by my car and stared into the picture window. Santana was sitting on her couch and the same girl who had cursed me out the other day was on his lap, kissing him. I crossed the street and the closer I got to her house, I could see broken pieces of bricks near her driveway. I walked back over to the bricks and picked a half cracked brick and hurled it with all my might at the picture window. I watched the girl jump off his lap and run away. Santana stood and looked out the broken window at me. His eyes widened in surprise.

  “You lying bastard!” I yelled.

  I turned and walked toward my car, crying loudly. I opened the driver’s door. Before I could get completely in my car the girl ran outside. My eyes widened as she raised a gun and started firing shots in my direction. I screamed and jumped into my car and closed the door. I didn’t even buckle my seat belt. I started the car and drove off before she had a chance to kill me. My heart was pounding wildly as I sped away, fearing one of the bullets would claim me.

  I bawled and sped over to my mother’s house. I was so hurt by Santana. How could he get himself out of this one? He was in her home and they were kissing. What excuse could he give me? It was what it was. He was cheating with her.

  “Such a liar!” I yelled as I continued to drive. I couldn’t stop crying. I wanted to be with Santana. But he had turned my emotions upside down with his hurt.

  I pulled in my parents’ driveway, thankful that my mother’s Benz was parked, meaning she was home. My father’s car was missing. I parked my car, jumped out, and screamed, “Mom!” as I ran to the door. I beat on my parents’ door until my mom opened the door.

  “Alexis?” She looked at me, alarmed.

  I threw myself into her arms, sobbing, before I could even get in the house.

  “Sweetie, what is it?” She held on to me and guided me into the living room. We sat on the couch. I took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Honey. Do I need to call your father?”

  I covered my face with my hands and sobbed.

  “You are worrying me. What’s wrong?”

  I continued to shake my head, unable to get the words out. She walked out of the living room and, a minute later, came back with a glass of ice water. “Here,” she ordered. “Drink this and calm down so you can explain to me what the hell is going on, baby.”

  Her phone rattled on the table next to me. “It must be that fool again. Someone is crank calling me. They been doing it all week. As much as I love your father, I wonder if he decided to finally fool around on me. He had better not.”

  I obeyed my mother, sipping the cold water and taking a deep breath before proceeding. I didn’t respond to what she said because my problems were far worse than hers, and I felt resentful she would even have the nerve to bring her issues up at a time like this.

  She set her phone down. “Now that you are a little calmer, tell me what’s wrong, baby?”

  “Santana is . . .” I continued to sob as I talked and had to take another deep breath before finishing. “He is cheating on me.”

  My mother pulled her lips in and appeared to try to keep a neutral expression. It didn’t last long as she went from neutral to disapproving.

  “Well, Alexis, you have to understand that you don’t really know that man. You have only been seeing him for two months. That is not enough time to really know if you can trust a person. My instinct and his behavior give me the impression that he is really, really bad news.” Her eyes were wide in emphasis.

  That’s why I didn’t want to tell her. I knew she would just sit here and slander Santana. Yes, he had cheated. But he was not bad news! He was a good guy prior to me catching him cheating. Don’t get me wrong. I was disappointed in the cheating aspect. If she thought that made him a bad guy, cool. I could accept that because right now he was not on my honorable or favorite person’s list. But my mom didn’t like him prior to me telling her about the cheating. It was just the icing on the cake. But I thought it unfair to already have the cake!

  “Mom. I know it has only been two months but I didn’t purposely fall in love with him. It just happened. You can’t control who you love. I love Santana.”

  “After only two months? You sound delusional!”

  “Mom! It’s like that song by Jazmine Sullivan called ‘Excuse Me.’ He makes me want to do all I can for him. I don’t know, it just happened that way. He is who I love. Even now, after this—”

  The sounds of glass being broken cut me off.

  My mother and I jumped up and ran outside to see where it was coming from. Once outside, we both spied the girl I had caught Santana with. She had a bat and she was busting the windows out of my mother’s car. Then she went to mine and busted out my front window.

  “What in the fuck are you doing destroying my property?” my mother demanded, confused as to who she was.

  She looked up, spied me, and dropped the bat. Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Bitch. Catch my fade!” She rushed toward me and started throwing a series of punches. I tried to fight back but I wasn’t very good at it and, in all honesty, she was whipping my ass.

  My mother yelled, “Get the fuck off of my daughter!”

  The girl grabbed me in a headlock and punched me three more times in my face, knocking me on the ground.

  “That’s it, got-dammit. I’m going to kick your ass!” My mom ran toward her.

  She pulled something out of her back pocket. A gun. She pointed it at my mother. It caused my mother to stop and hold her hands
up.

  I rolled over on my knees and when I looked toward her car, I saw Santana in her front seat.

  It made my heart crumble. He had to be the one to tell her where my mother stayed. Why would he? How could he set me up like this?

  “Stay the fuck back, old bitch! Call the police. I will have my homeboys come shoot this house up!” She glanced at me looking at Santana and laughed. “Yeah, you dumb bitch. You thought you was going to be able to fuck up my living situation for my kids and get away with it? I may get evicted now ’cause you busted out that window.”

  I closed my eyes briefly.

  “You wanted to know if I was fucking him. Now you know. And every time I see your ass, you going to catch my fade just of GP. So be ready.”

  She grabbed her bat off the ground. She then busted the back window of my mother’s car.

  I heard my mother make an angry sound in her throat. It was probably at the fact that she couldn’t do anything because the girl had a gun.

  I had a knot on my head and my bottom lip was busted from her attack. But more than that, my feelings were hurt that Santana was right there and didn’t stop her from attacking me.

  “I can’t believe this shit!” my mother yelled as she drove away. “I’m calling the police and your father! That bastard was right in the front seat with that bitch! You better not have anything else to do with him, Alexis. I’m serious!”

  Chapter 9

  It had been a week since the crazy fiasco with the girl. I stopped talking to Santana. I tried to take my mother’s advice and put the pain in God’s hands, and hopefully He would wash it away. But my heart was heavy. So heavy.

  My mother and I had wanted to file a police report against that girl but feared she would retaliate so we decided not to. Since the ordeal, I hadn’t heard from Santana either. It bothered me but I knew the best thing to do was to try to get over him so he didn’t have the chance to hurt me again. It sucked because I really thought we had something special. A couple times, I did want to call or text Santana. But I didn’t and it took a lot for me not to. It hurt more that he didn’t attempt to call or text me. Maybe he never did care about me. Maybe it was all me attaching myself to him. That’s how it appeared because he sure as hell wasn’t fighting to get me back. Maybe he loved the other girl. That hurt a lot, maybe even more than the actuality that he was cheating on me. Not to mention my mother was furious about the damage to our cars. Good thing we both had insurance and it was taken care of. But my heart wasn’t.