Alex’s face held no emotion as he looked past me. I distracted him because as much as I was grateful for Alex being there to protect me, I didn’t want another dead body on my conscience. I was thankful he listened and backed away. I turned and looked over my shoulder at the man bleeding on my kitchen floor.
“Call the cops,” Alex said to me.
There was no need to do that since the silent alarm had been triggered as soon as the front door flew off the hinges. I was about to tell him that when I heard a gun cock back. Alex grabbed me and we both hit the floor, crashing behind the bar in the kitchen with him falling on top of me, protecting and shielding me. I screamed out as bullets flew around us and Alex kept his body atop mine. We could hear the sirens coming and all I could do was pray they got to us before we ended up dead on my kitchen floor.
“Stupid-ass nigga gon’ have pussy get you killed.”
“Just stop, please stop,” I cried out after the bullets stopped flying.
“Fuck you, bitch. You better hope this nigga is around all the time. Let me catch you slipping and both you motherfuckers are dead.”
I heard his footsteps moving away from us and then I could hear running footfalls as the sirens and police lights decorated my front room.
It was another four hours before the police left my home and after someone had been called to give me another door. Alex and I answered questions as they roamed all over the house collecting evidence. He followed my lead and told the cops we both thought it was just someone trying to rob us. Our stories matched so they thought nothing of it. Some neighbors backed up our claim, saying they heard what sounded like someone was trying to kick the door down. Once the cops left, it wasn’t long after that Alex left.
“You need to fix that. I may not be here to protect you next time,” he said to me as he packed his bags. He’d told me the streets of Oakland had raised him and I saw that when he defended us.
“Have you ever killed someone, Alex?”
He looked at me and scratched the side of his nose. “You ever kill someone, Vix?”
He knew the answer to that so I guessed that gave me my answer. We were both murderers.
“Where’re you going?”
“Home to my wife. It’s safer there,” he said as he pulled his shirt over his head and looked back at me.
I didn’t say anything else as I watched him finish packing his things to leave. When he was done he walked over to me where I stood by the wall, used one hand to pull me close to him, and kissed me like he was never coming back.
“Bye, Vix.”
I crawled into my bed and pulled the covers over my head. It would be the first time in a long time that I cried that way I did that night. I picked up my cell and sent a text.
Weak-ass nigga.
A few minutes later I got a response. Stupid-ass bitch.
I took a leave of absence from school and for a week, I didn’t leave my home and barely left my bed. I answered no phone calls although I received many. Alex had kept his promise and I had not heard from him nor had he come back. I imagined he was living it up with his wife, kissing and pleasing her just as he had done me. I had something that she would never have though. I knew his secrets and in my mind that made me better than her.
A call from my lover confirmed that she knew about her husband and me. He’d come in with the scars of his infidelity like wounds from a war and had confessed in an effort to hurt her like she’d hurt him. She’d left message after message on my phone, threatening to fuck me up when she saw me. Then her husband’s phone calls came and when I finally decided to pick up the phone, he apologized.
“I want you to know how sorry I am. I was drunk and you know I love you. Why do you have to always make me regret falling in love with you?”
“I didn’t ask you to fall in love with me,” I answered. “And what does that have to do with you trying to kill me?”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I wanted to scare you.”
“You punched me in my fucking face and shot at me. I’d say you were trying to kill me.”
“Why you have that other nigga in the pad I bought for you, Vix? That shit ain’t kosher.”
I could tell he was in his office at work. I could hear Coltrane playing in the background and he always played that in his office.
“So you only bought me this place to keep tabs on me and with the stipulation of not having sex with other men?”
“Something like that.”
“You never said that to me. If you had I’d still be in that hotel room looking for my own place.” I sighed, shook my head, and stood to go look at my face in the mirror. The swelling had gone down but the bruises and the pain were still there.
“You really thought I’d be okay with another nigga in the house I bought? Don’t be stupid all your fucking life, Vix.”
I frowned at my phone and hung up. Screw him if he thought he could change me and keep tabs on me just by putting me in a house. He was fucking with the wrong one and if he thought I was stupid he had another think coming. I checked to make sure the deed was really in my name and it was. I’d embarrass his ass and take him to court if he tried to take the house away from me. It would ruin his image and the career he built. I’d make sure of it. He’d pissed me off and I felt as if I hadn’t been in a good mood since Alex walked out of my place.
I pulled my clothes off and got in the shower. I felt the need to scrub, so I did. I needed to try to wash away the nightmares that had started to haunt me. I kept seeing me and my mother pulling the trigger and the hole that was left in Mike’s head afterward, only this time he didn’t die and his eyes stayed on mine.
“I’ma get’chu bitch. When you least expect a nigga to, I’ma get yo’ ass,” was what he would say to me.
I’d always jump awake, feeling for my gun under the pillow next to me. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since my lover’s husband shot up my house. I was always fearful. Every bump or knock made me jump out of my skin. As I showered I thought of Alex and allowed my fingers to play. I missed him, wanted him, and needed him to touch my body like only he could. Damn, that man did something to my body that no other man had come close to. He made me crave him, which no other man had ever done. I stepped out of the shower and went to get my phone. Standing under the water I held my phone away from the jetting stream and snapped photos of myself.
Once finished, I turned the shower off and wrapped myself in a towel. Sitting on my bed, I looked through the five pictures I’d taken. I didn’t like any so I removed the towel from my body and sat spread eagle in front of my body mirror on the wall. I snapped a series of pictures, but the last one of me just sitting on the bed looking at the mirror with my hair flowing over my shoulders was the one I sent to him. Yes, you could see my breasts and my pussy, but I looked innocent. He’d told me he liked that look. He’d told me that after we’d talked about how my innocence was stolen from me on more than one occasion. In the message of the picture I put the words that would make him respond, knowing he would reply in kind.
Thinking of you, weak-ass nigga.
His mother would call him a weak-ass nigga when he would tell her no to sex. She would call him a faggot and say he was scared of pussy. I could feel his pain because anytime I’d do something wrong after a while when having sex with Mike, he’d call me a stupid-ass bitch. After he started using and drinking, that’s all I became was a stupid-ass bitch. My phone buzzed and I jumped, hoping it was Alex. It was. He’d sent me a picture of him standing in front of a mirror. He was naked, same as I, and his dick was semi-hard.
His message read: You’re beautiful. Thinking of you, stupid-ass bitch.
I smiled and lay back in my bed. Some things weren’t meant to be understood and the way I felt for him was one of them. For the first time I was feeling something for a man that had nothing to do with what he could do for me, but that man was married. I could never have him so I’d take what I could get. Sleep came easy for me after that and no demons
chased me in my dreams. I’d be remiss if I said Alex didn’t have anything to do with that.
How was it that I’d lucked out and found a man just as damaged as I? Yes, I said it was luck, because it was. He understood me. We were cut from the same cloth and I would have never been able to tell just from the way he carried himself. He taught his students with a passion, and from the outside looking in, he was the perfect man with the perfect upbringing. Yet, he’d killed as I’d done. I saw a totally different man than the one who stood in front of his class and taught faithfully every day like his life depended on it. He gave me hope.
Finally waking up, I stepped out to get myself something to eat. I bobbed my head to “Kitty Kat” by Beyoncé as I drove. In that moment I realized that for the first time, I was alone. I had nobody in my corner, no man to cater to and no female lover to fight with. I smiled because it felt good actually. Although I missed the shit out of Alex, I would eventually come to terms with the fact that he may be the one who would never come back. He only came to me because his wife pushed him my way. Maybe it was meant to be that way. Maybe it was the universe’s way of trying to teach me a lesson, to let me know there was another out there just as damaged as me. One who had overcome all of his demons to make something positive of himself. Maybe that was my lesson.
I stepped out of my car and walked into O’Charley’s. I had called ahead of time to order my food since I didn’t feel like cooking or waiting too long to eat. I grabbed my food and hopped back in my car, once again not paying attention to what was going on around me. My phone rang and I tapped my Bluetooth without looking to see who was calling.
“Hello?”
“So you really just gon’ fuck my husband, huh?”
Her voice held an angry shrill. I sighed. “No I didn’t fuck your husband. He fucked me.”
She chuckled. “So it’s like that?”
“Why do you care? You got the chick you wanted right? We can be done. I have nothing else to say to you. All of the shit you’ve taken me through and then for it to come to this. You’re so full of shit.”
I had told myself over and over that I didn’t love her. I told myself that it was just sex and that our relationship would be the only one she had of our kind. I’d been fooling myself. I loved her. I could even go so far as to say I was in love with her. As much as I hated to admit it, I was. She’d had a hold on me for years. She was my first. She would always be my first and I’d hate her for it. I was so mad that the truck in my rearview mirror never crossed my mind. I got off onto the expressway as my lover yelled at me on the phone.
“Bitch, don’t play me. You’re the one full of shit. How dare you go for my husband? He told me how you left the thongs in his briefcase and how many times you’ve come after him. You just had to have it all, huh? Couldn’t be just satisfied with me?”
I frowned then laughed after I hit the steering wheel. “Couldn’t just be satisfied with you? Are you damn crazy? You need help. I see that now. I’m not the crazy one, you are. You didn’t even want the man any damn way.”
“You a ho-ass bitch and when I see you it’s fisticuffs on sight.”
I shook my head again. She would always be a wretched hood bitch underneath all of the prim and proper façade she put on.
“The last time you put your hands on me was the last time.”
Her accent had gotten thicker and it reminded me that she was dangerous. “I’m going to fuck you up, Vix. Watch me. Damn. Why the fuck couldn’t you see that I loved you? I’m the only one who’s going to love you the way you need. Nobody but me!”
I could hear things crashing and falling in her background like she was throwing them around as she talked.
I calmly responded, “You’re crazy. You need help. Serious help.”
“Fuck you, Vix, for playing with me like this. Did he give you what I could? He can’t touch you like me. You’re really just determined to fuck me over, right?”
I hung up the phone and threw my Bluetooth from my ear. Lots of things ran through my mind in that moment, like if I’d really bitten off more than I could chew. My car started to jerk and a loud beep erupted and caused me to look down at the steering wheel like it could give me the answer why.
“What the hell?” I asked as it jerked harder and my cell started ringing.
A bulb clicked in my head and I looked at the gas gauge. Pissed, I cursed when I realized I was out of gas again. I shook my head and pulled over to the side of the road, cursing myself for once again forgetting to put gas in the damn car.
“Damn it.”
I popped my trunk and got out of the car. Shaking my head, I pulled the trunk open and pulled the gas can out, shaking it. Nothing. I sighed and slammed the trunk closed. Cars zoomed past me as they went about their everyday lives. I was so pissed because I’d promised myself and Alex that this would never happen. I could still hear my phone ringing and knew it was my lover. I bent down into the car and grabbed my phone from the seat, causing my Bluetooth to fall to the floor. I reached for it as horns blared. I thought it was just perverts who were getting a kick out of seeing my full heart-shaped ass bent over. I had on a sweater dress and boots so I knew it was a sight for many since I only had a thong on.
I pulled my Bluetooth from the floor, put it in my ear, and stood up. Headlights blinded me as a truck came barreling at me full speed ahead. I was stuck where I stood. I tried to scream, in my mind I was screaming, but in that moment I was a deaf mute. I couldn’t move. Fear gripped me and planted my feet where they were. By the time my fear caught up to my brain and screamed for me to move it was too late. The truck rammed into my car side, scraping it, hitting me, and knocked me several feet into the air. Time moved in slow motion as my body took flight, twisted, turned, and hit the ground in a hard splat. Blackness overtook me and wiped the pain out. I was broken.
A male’s voice rang out in laughter close to my ear. “I told you I would get you, stupid-ass bitch.”
Mike’s face floated around and surrounded me in my blacked-out state. I floated on the edges of life and death as he danced around me, that hole in his head leaking brain matter and blood.
“Told yo’ slut-bucket ass that I would get you when you least expected, ho,” he said as he kneeled and looked at me. “See you in hell, stupid-ass bitch.”
Epilogue
Machines beeped in the distance as my eyes fluttered open. Something was down my throat and every bone in my body felt broken. I could feel the puffiness and swollen nature of my face and I wanted to move but couldn’t. I wanted to scream and couldn’t so I just cried. I looked around the room. There was my lover and her husband; my mom and Frank were there as well. My eyes roamed the room before anyone realized I was awake and I was afraid for any of them to see that I was awake. Somebody had tried to kill me, but failed ... So maybe there was a God. Did He save me? If so, why? There was no way he loved women like me. Women who’d murdered and whored around most of their lives.
The TV blared, and people talked around me. Somebody in that room had tried to kill me. I was sure of it. The threats that had been made on my life just minutes before my world went black made me aware of that. Both my lover and her husband had threatened me.
My mom walked over to my bed and I closed my eyes. She kissed my head and my lip twitched. That kiss reminded me of why I hated her. Reminded me of why my father had left her. She backed away and I opened my eyes again. She was looking right at me. She knew I was awake and it made me nervous. We simply stared at each other as she smiled. She was five eight, had long hair that sat in a natural press against her scalp, and had eyes so dark that they hypnotized you if you stared into them for too long. Her body was sickening: soft plush D-cup breasts, beautiful chocolate skin, flat stomach, a lush ass, and beautiful hips.
Tears rolled down my face and my heart rate sped up. Frank walked to the edge of the bed and looked at me. There was no expression on his face, but he held his arm in a sling and the cut on his neck told of his demons as we
ll. He’d gone home with the scars of his infidelity like wounds from a war and had confessed in an effort to hurt her like she’d hurt him. His jaw twitched as he looked at me and shook his head. I blinked slowly and looked away from him. I was ashamed of myself and fear had given me a new respect for life.
The news played in the background and caught my attention. The reporter stood in front of the Clayton County courthouse as she talked and the wind blew her hair around.
“A Clayton College and University professor has been arrested and brought in for questioning in the attempted murder of his seventeen-year-old student. Vix Dixon was hit on I-75 as she stepped out of her car to go to her trunk. It appears as if her 2012 BMW had run out of gas when she was targeted. Alex Rodriguez was sought as a suspect when his 2011 Land Rover was found abandoned at a gas station not too far from where the hit and run occurred. This is a strange case because just hours before his truck was used, he’d reported it and his wife missing. His wife has since been found alive and well. We will have more details on this case as it develops. Another thing we would like to mention before we go is that Ms. Dixon is the daughter of the dean of Clayton College and University and it also seems as if Ms. Dixon and the professor were carrying on an affair of some sort, but as I said more details will come as we sort them out.”
In no way did I believe that Alex or his wife had tried to kill me. What reason would she have had? She didn’t know for sure her husband was having sex with me, right? My mind raced. I’d listened to some of their phone conversations and it seemed he had convinced her that she was overreacting and that there was no way he would be sleeping with his student, not when she’d initially accused him of it anyway.
I looked at my mother, the woman who’d become my lover just months before Mike had taken my innocence away from me. God just didn’t love women like me. Women like me who’d allowed their mothers to touch them, have sex with, and have a relationship with them. That’s why my dad had left. He’d come home from work on my twelfth birthday and caught my mother with her head between my legs and me just lying there, not knowing what do. He’d tried to beat her into a coma before he took me and tried to leave, but by then she’d conditioned me. I knew the story of her childhood and had known the same had happened to her. Her dad had taken her away from her mother but turned around and started doing the same thing to her. That’s what kept me with her.
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