The Demise of Alexis Vancamp

by Karen P. Williams

  I took a deep breath and looked at Santana nervously as we were parked outside of the girl Reina’s house. “I really don’t feel comfortable doing this.” Santana wanted me to go inside and pack up the rest of his things.

  “I told you it would be okay. I already talked to her ass.”

  “Well, why can’t you do it?”

  “I told you. I don’t want to see her kids. They had gotten attached to me and I had gotten attached to them. It will be hard to see them. She agrees.”

  “But I don’t want any problems with her.”

  “I told you that girl is done tripping off you. She accepts that she not in your league and she lost me to you. Watch. I’ll call her right now.”

  I waited, almost not breathing as he dialed her number and put her on speaker phone.

  “Hello?” She sounded calm, so that was good.

  “Hey. My girl is going to come in here and get my shit. You not going to fuck with her are you?”

  “I’m too grown for that shit. The only reason why I did that is because she disrespected where I lie with my kids. You paid for the window to get fixed and I didn’t get evicted. I’m Gucci. I’m good. I’m telling you. Besides my kids are here. I don’t be doing all that shit in front of them. She good.”

  “Cool.” He ended the call. “Go on.”

  I took a deep breath and opened the car door. I walked on shaking legs up to her house. I reassured myself that I would be okay. She seemed fine and I wondered if I would be that calm if I were her. Since I wasn’t a fighter, if she were in my shoes, I would probably just let her get his stuff, only because I couldn’t fight. But if I could fight I would want to fight for the man I loved. But according to Santana, their situation was never a love thing. He had said that I had his heart.

  Before I even had a chance to knock, she opened the door with a smile. “You good. Come on.”

  “Thank you.” I stepped inside and followed her. Up close, I saw she was a very pretty girl with a gigantic booty. “He really don’t have a lot of stuff. It’s in the room on the bed. I’ll get you some trash bags to put it in.”

  There were several pairs of tennis shoes on the bed along with some jeans and a few shirts. There was also an Xbox 360 and a Wii.

  She came back and handed me two black trash bags. “Here you go. And make sure there is nothing else in the closet that I may have missed.”

  “Thank you.”

  I quickly put the items in one of trash bags. Then I slipped his games into the other bag. I still didn’t like this bitch. For one she had been with my man while I was with him. And for two, she had messed up my mother’s car and my car. But I appreciated the fact that she was going to move on from Santana and not cause us any more problems.

  I looked in her closet and saw nothing else that appeared to belong to Santana.

  “That was easy,” I mumbled to myself.

  I grabbed the bags and walked out of her bedroom. When I made it past the hallway, toward the living room, I jumped because there were now two more girls in the house. They were all seated on the couch. The aroma of weed was now in the room. The two girls smiled at me and said, “Hello.”

  Across from them was a cute little boy who looked like he was about seven, and a little girl who looked to be around four. Reina was combing the little girl’s hair.

  “Hi.” I gave a nervous smile and proceeded to walk past them. I closed the space between me and the door with quick steps; my heart started beating at a rapid rate.

  I grabbed the doorknob and, before I could turn it, I felt the pressure of a fist slam into the back of my head. My head instantly hit the door, making me so dizzy that I dropped to the floor; the bags fell from my hands.

  I was then rushed by all three women.

  “You dumb bitch! You thought you were just going to come in here and be able to walk out?”

  All three women started throwing punches. That wasn’t the worst. The little boy started kicking me in my head.

  I hid my head in my forearms, blocking some of the kicks. I screamed like I was running through a hail of bullets as they continued to attack me. I stood and grabbed the doorknob but the hits never stopped coming. I still managed to get away from them and find the strength to run out of the door, screaming for my life.

  I ran to the car and opened the passenger’s side door. I glanced back and saw them all coming after me and laughing.

  I jumped into the car and before I could close the door, one of the chicks grabbed my hair while Reina pummeled me in my head, saying, “Yeah, bitch, catch my fade again! Go to the police this time. I know where the fuck your mama live. We will fuck her up too! Mess up that pretty-ass house, groove.” The other girl was kicking the shit out of my car.

  Santana looked surprised. “What the fuck?” Santana leaned over me and shoved Reina back and told the other girl, “Let go of her fucking hair!”

  I screamed for my life.

  She finally let me go and I closed the door. Santana pulled off but they still chased after us.

  I hid my head in my shoulder and cried all while Santana said, “We done. We don’t ever have to worry about them crazy bitches again. But, babe, where is my stuff?”

  “I . . .” I was breathing hard and couldn’t talk.

  “Breathe, baby,” he said as he steered the car.

  “I left it.”

  “What? You left my shit?”

  “Yes! We can’t ever go back there. They are crazy. Whatever I left, I will replace. Tomorrow.”

  My head was pounding and I knew I had to look a mess with more knots on my forehead, a black eye, and my hair all wild. I wanted to go to the police but I thought about what they said. I didn’t want my mother in any more drama. She already hated Santana and would probably blame him. The best thing to do was to put this whole experience behind me. I smoothed my hair back from my face, hoping the experience didn’t give me posttraumatic stress disorder. All I wanted him to do was get me home.

  Chapter 12

  My friend stood in front of the door with a shocked look on her face as Santana and I moved his things into the house she and I shared together.

  “Alexis! What happened to your face? Did he hit you?”

  Santana started laughing.

  “No. I got attacked. I don’t want to discuss it.” My head was killing me from the beating I just got. It was like I was moving hell and earth for this man. But that’s how much I wanted him.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “What are you doing with those bags and suitcases?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “It looks like you’re moving him into our house. But the reason why I am asking what you are doing is because I would think that, this being our house, you would have consulted me first!”

  “It’s my father’s house. So that makes it mine and never made it yours.”

  She looked baffled by my comment. “So you are moving him in here and you never thought to let me know or thought to even ask me if I would be okay with it, when you know it would positively piss me off?”

  Santana didn’t respond. He just started putting his suitcases in my bedroom. He came back out and grabbed two more. Arianna and I were standing near the hallway now. He bumped her with his suitcase and she scowled at him.

  “Before you go off on him, he didn’t do that on purpose,” I said quickly.

  But it seemed she was far too lost in the situation to even care that he had bumped her. She just stared at him. “We have been best friends since preschool. We did everything together. I can’t believe you are choosing him: a man who has clearly shown you that he is no good for you. And still you are choosing him over me.”

  “I’m not. I love you. I will always be your friend. I’m not turning my back on you as a friend, Arianna. You mustn’t say things like that. We have far too much history for me to ever think of doing anything like that. I don’t ever want to stop being your friend. Why can’t we all live in this house together? He’s going to share a roo
m with me.”

  “Because—”

  Santana walked past, not bothering to say anything to my friend, and told me, “I’m going to get me some smokes. I’ll be right back.”

  He kissed me while eying Arianna. She looked away, disgusted.

  When he left, she turned back to me and said, “He makes my skin crawl. Alexis, I hate him for you. He is garbage and he will only bring you down. I see it. He is bad news. Why can’t you see that?” There were tears in her eyes. She looked so concerned.

  “You have him all wrong. Santana is a little rough around the edges but he is not a bad guy. And he loves me.”

  “Are you insane? This is the same man who cheated on you!”

  “That was my fault. If I had let him move in he wouldn’t have done that. And he’s done with her. I’m not a saint. Remember I was juggling him and Dannon for a whole month!”

  “It’s like he’s got you brainwashed. I don’t know who you are anymore. And I’m really afraid for you.”

  “You just can’t see past being privileged to give anyone a chance. Did you know that Phaedra from The Real Housewives of Atlanta’s husband has a record? I was reading about it on Mediatakeout.com. She said that us black women are creating genocide by not dating men because they aren’t on our financial level or that have a criminal record.”

  She seemed to have tuned me out. “No man ever throws a drink in a woman’s face or calls her a bitch. My daddy has never treated my mom that way, nor has any man ever treated me that way, nor will I allow it. If a man even raises his voice at me the wrong way I’m gone. I know what I am worthy of and I thought you did too. Your mother and father raised you better. You’re a fool. If he moves in here, I’m moving out . . . today. I will call my daddy right now. And if that piece of shit ever comes near me again, he will be in jail. You have a decision to make so you better make it now.”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t want my friend to move out. I also didn’t want her to be mad at me or feel like I was choosing Santana over her. Why was she being so selfish? Why couldn’t she just accept Santana? If she was really my best friend and loved me like she always said she did, she would. She had no real reasons to dislike him other than the fact that he threw a drink in her face. But she needed to get over that and understand that she played a part in it. I wasn’t saying he was right for doing that and I told him he was wrong. But she gave him so much attitude that night, what did she expect?

  I cleared my throat and said, “He’s staying.”

  At those words she closed her eyes and kept them closed. She looked really hurt.

  I touched her on her shoulder. “But I want—”

  She opened her eyes and snatched away from me. She pulled out her iPhone and made a phone call. “Daddy! I’m coming home now. I need you to send a mover to get my things. No. I haven’t packed and I’ll tell you why later. I’m coming home now.”

  She grabbed her purse and walked out, not even bothering to say good-bye to me.

  Although I missed my friend, I enjoyed playing wifey to Santana. He was still in school and I was still working for my daddy. I would come home, cook, and serve him. In return, he would give me the best lovemaking I had ever experienced. It felt good to be able go to sleep with him and wake up next to him. I wanted to please him in any way that I possibly could. True to my word, the next day after all that drama, I took my credit card and replaced all the items I had left at that psychotic bitch’s house. And she had left us alone. There were no more phone calls from her and she hadn’t come to my mother’s house again, either. Speaking of my mother, she was very angry at the fact that I had not left Santana alone. She was even angrier at the fact that we were now living together. But there was nothing she could do about it but accept it.

  My daddy seemed indifferent to the whole situation. He really wasn’t tripping off of Santana. He did have a long talk with Santana and told him he didn’t like the girl coming over to his house and that he expected Santana to handle it. Santana said he would and none of us would have to worry about the girl again. Matter of fact, Santana and my father had even gone out for drinks a couple times. I was happy to know my daddy was being open-minded. It was a lost cause with my mother. She never wanted to hear anything about Santana, unless it was that I was leaving him.

  And, as for my friend, it had been two months since I had heard from her. She also wouldn’t return my calls. And when she saw me in church, she wouldn’t even acknowledge I was there. It hurt. I felt like she should have been more mature about the situation. If she wanted to throw away a twenty-year friendship then that was her fucking loss. Santana was here to stay.

  I sang my heart out to Jazmine Sullivan as her song, “Excuse Me,” blasted from my iPod in my car. I could hit the same high-pitched notes she hit.

  “‘Excuse me if I’m sounding crazy but you’ve been the one I’ve been hoping and waiting for.’” I turned down the street to my house. I parked in my driveway, got out, and grabbed my purse, attaché case, and the bag from Outback Steakhouse. It was late and I had no real energy to cook today. I simply wanted to make love to Santana and rest up.

  I came through the door and looked for Santana. When I didn’t see him in the living room, I set my purse and attaché case on the couch. I walked into the dining room and set the bag from Outback down on the dining room table. “Babe. Where are you?”

  I walked into our bedroom and found him in bed, watching the news.

  I smiled and slipped off my shoes, crawling on the bed toward him. “Hey, baby.” I lay on his chest and kissed him. “I got us some pasta and crab legs from Outback for dinner.”

  “Okay. Rest with me for a little while.” He gripped his arms around my waist and held me close to him. See, this was the Santana other people didn’t get to see. He had an incredible soft and gentle side. Some days he simply wanted to rest in my arms and he wanted me to rub his back. He said it comforted him and made him feel loved because he never really felt loved until he met me. I got it, even while others didn’t: the ones who made him out to be a bad person. But they based it on the wrong things. They looked at his past and the fact that he didn’t have a degree or a job making a lot of money. Why did these things automatically label him a bad guy? So when he met people like this, you damn right he gave them nothing but an attitude. That was because his perspective was simple: “If you want to judge me before getting to know me then why the fuck should I show you all the good in me? Like my man Jay-Z said, ‘Middle finger in the air, nigga gripping my balls.’”

  But that was fine. Let all his sweetness be reserved for me.

  I closed my eyes and enjoyed his embrace. I started humming softly in his ear.

  “What are you singing, baby?” he asked, stroking his hands up and down my back.

  “Jazmine Sullivan’s ‘Excuse Me.’ Love that song.”

  There was a nice breeze blowing in the room and it felt so good being in his arms. It made me feel loved. It reminded me how much I loved, desired, and wanted him.

  “Why do you love it?” he asked in a husky voice.

  “Because she feels so passionate about a guy. Her love for him makes her want to do whatever she can to make him happy . . . And that’s how I feel about you.”

  “Oh yeah?” He rubbed on my butt.

  “Yes. What I am telling you is one hundred percent sincere. I love you, Santana. You are like my drug and I will do whatever I can to keep you happy. Being in your presence makes me happy. Each day I care about you more. It’s to a capacity that is almost scary for me because I have never felt this.”

  “Hmmm,” was what he said, low in his throat. He kissed me on my neck. “Sing that song to me. I wanna hear it.”

  I closed my eyes and started singing softly. I knew my pitch was perfect from years of singing in the choir at church, and in classes I had taken at school. My singing had been known to make people cry.

  “I closed my eyes and belted out:

  And just to see you smiling at me
/>   Baby, you don’t even have to ask me

  Don’t care what the task be, if it makes you

  happy . . .”

  I continued to sing as Santana softly rolled me on to my back so he was free to slip his body between my legs. It threw off my concentration when he pulled off my slacks and underwear. He then started going down on me, causing me to moan.

  “Keep singing,” he ordered, teasing my clit with his tongue.

  But now it was hard for me to keep up with the words of the song because he was making me feel so good. So I went to humming it. He laughed and continued to pleasure me.

  “Santana. Damn.” My eyes closed as I savored the pleasure. My hands sunk in his curly hair. It didn’t stop him from letting up. In fact, he got more into it, sticking fingers in me while he continued to suck on my clit.

  “Sing,” he ordered. “Or I’m going to stop.”

  “‘Because no one, no not no one ever made me feel like I could be dreaming ’cause you can’t be—’”

  I didn’t stop because of the pleasure. I stopped this time because I felt a presence in the room and, sure enough, when I opened my eyes, I saw the older Jamaican man I had seen before in Santana’s pad walk into our bedroom.

  I gently kicked Santana in the chest and quickly covered up with my blanket.

  “Damn, baby, what?”

  He looked behind him and jumped at the figure. “Aye, man! What the fuck?” He stood and looked at the dude again. When he recognized who it was, he lowered his voice. “Dylan. Man, what you doing in my girl’s crib?”

  “No call? Move and say nothing to me? Me panicked and had to check up on chu.”

  I wondered what he was talking about and if Santana was involved in some mess with this man. He had a lot of nerve just walking in my home without knocking. I watched Santana and tried to read his face for a sign of what the hell was going on.

  Santana wiped his face with his hands, all while Dylan stared me down and sucked on one of his teeth in the corner of his mouth, like he had a piece of meat stuck in it. I looked away.