Griffin told the principal what had happened. “Lainie, don’t you know when little boys tease little girls it’s because they like them?” Mrs. Culpepper tried to tell me, but I knew better. I got sent home that afternoon, with a note to my mother, for telling the principal she was wrong about the actions of mean boys. They didn’t do those things because they liked the girl, they did them because they got away with it. Momma had worn out my backside that day, reminding me she had taught her girls better.
Candy Perry was as beautiful, as she was clueless. She had told me and my younger sister, Heidi, to always have a man by your side. To do everything in your power to keep them happy, and coming home. She even taught us how to cover up the bruises which may accidentally find their way to our faces. My challenging Griffin on the playground, had gone against everything momma had taught me.
I had taken those lashes, and then wore a dress for a week, due to the welts I had on my legs from them. I didn’t cry or flinch when she’d lowered the strap. I didn’t think twice either, when I hit her new boyfriend, Bucky, a month later when I came home to find him standing over her punching her in the face. I’d just picked up the frying pan full of hot grease, and smacked the fucker in the back of the head.
My sister, however, took our mother’s words of wisdom to heart. She wore her dresses as short as the school would allow, and flirted without any inhibitions or self-respect. More than a few times, she had been caught sneaking in after curfew, with one of the local boys in tow.
It was the summer after her sophomore year, when a friend from down the street, invited her to a church revival. My sister wanted to impress our mother’s latest boyfriend, Steve, an older guy, who’d invited momma to his church in the next county over. His shiny red car and full time employment, blinded both Heidi and Momma, from realizing he was a real snake.
Heidi skipped off to that revival where she met a man by the name of George Garvin. Mr. Garvin was ten years her senior, wore a suit and tie everywhere he went, and was an extremely religious man. According to Heidi, he walked over to introduce himself and with a single handshake. It was love at first sight.
He came over to the trailer that Steve had rented for us, and let Momma know he had feelings for Heidi. While my sister was ready to toss her panties and run off with the man, George was much more reserved. He insisted on several rules for their relationship. No kissing, holding hands, or being alone in the same room, until Heidi was of age.
For over a year, George would come by the house. The one he’d helped Momma to find. It seemed there was a reason Steve attended a church thirty miles away. His shiny red car and good income, was needed for his addiction to child pornography. At four o’clock one Thursday morning, the county sheriff had busted down the trailer door, arresting Steve on a parole violation. With no money to call our own, we were looking at eviction.
George made a big production about it, telling Momma she was being punished by God for her wicked ways. Heidi sat there like a bobble head, agreeing with everything he said. When George handed her the keys to a new house, Momma suddenly saw the light, and agreed with him too. George may have been a God-fearing man, but he used his ability to provide for Momma as a way to weasel his way permanently into the family.
Momma sat just as proud as a peacock when he would stop by, playing the dutiful chaperone. Smiling as if the King of Persia was in her living room, instead of the man who was old enough to date her, instead of my sister. He would bring Heidi gifts, and pick her up for church. Finally, on her eighteenth birthday, he asked her to marry him. He carted her off to the justice of the peace, and in less than ten minutes, secured himself a young bride.
After the wedding, George decided Momma and I needed saving. I was home from college long enough to spend a final summer, and see my sister get married. George tried to tell me I needed to stick closer to home, get a job, and start doing right by my family. He assumed I was partying, smoking, and running around, instead of studying my ass off, like I was.
Momma didn’t care for it either, which unfortunately, caused a rift between her and my sister. For the first time since I could remember, Momma had to get a job, and support herself. For the last six years, she has worked at a nursing home, cooking in the kitchen for the residents.
George decided he and Heidi would start a ministry, bringing Jesus to the world. Last time I’d heard from her, they had rented a building in Tucson, and opened a homeless shelter and soup kitchen. She and George barely spoke to one another anymore, as she had been unable to get pregnant. He told her it was because she wasn’t a virgin when they got married. She was miserable, but he paid her bills and she wore his ring. She would never leave him, as she believed the bullshit our mother spewed.
With me, all the talk of keeping men and sacrificing yourself our momma preached at us, had the complete opposite effect, showing me what I didn’t want. I would never depend on a man to pay my bills, or feed and clothe me. I was not opposed to having a man who complimented me, but if he were making my life worse, he would be given his walking papers.
So, instead of hooking the first guy with a job and a great smile, I studied my ass off. I got into Caltech, where I studied even harder. With the campus population mostly male, I had to fight my way into projects, and out of requests for threesomes.
Having that same fire I did as a young tomboy, I paved my way around the campus playboy, Kennedy Fraser. Kennedy coined himself a great catch. Being born into a bathtub of money, and a guaranteed job with his father’s company, it was nothing to see him pointing to young giggling girls, and lining them up for his pleasure.
His parties were legendary. Anything you craved to dull your pain, he had, sitting on a waiting table. Security always managed to get lost when it came to responding to noise complaints at his address.
Kennedy and I had one class in common. A core class I had to pass to graduate. Professor French assigned a project to design a webpage with a theme we didn’t agree with. The page had to attract viewers in a positive light, without screaming how wrong the subject material was. With a twist, he assigned partners; people in the class who he’d established had no common ground.
I decided Mr. French hated me, as he flashed my name on the overhead, a back slash separating my name from Kennedy’s. I didn’t give a flying fuck who he thought I could work with, this was something I was going to do alone.
Kennedy stopped me in the hall after class. He insisted we could meet at his apartment, professing it would be quiet, and the internet speed better than the free campus broadband. I had dealt with men like this douchebag; one’s who towered over me, for my entire life. They smiled those perfect smiles, saying the words they read, and practiced to make girls swoon. He may be made of money, and walk around as if he owned the place, but he was about to lose big time. As this girl could not be bought, or won over, with cheap words and empty promises.
Imagine what his face looked like, when I told him I’d rather be eaten by a pack of wolves than to be alone with him. I’d been writing code for computers since I was able to type. Designing a web page turned out to be a walk in the park. It gave me a new direction, and another check mark to make me more marketable in the shrinking job market.
However, Kennedy didn’t just step aside and let me walk away. Unfortunately, my refusal of his invitation became a challenge for him; more than just getting into my panties. For the remainder of our time at Caltech, nearly every project which was publically posted, we competed for; some I won, some he did.
A week prior to graduation, I overheard him speaking to some of his douchebag friends, telling them his older brother was sleeping around with a competitor’s wife. Apparently, they were biding their time until the old fuck died. Then planned to have Kennedy come in and run the company, taking it to a level the current owner refused. I was about to walk away when he said my name, followed by, “She is gonna wish she would have sucked my dick.”
I graduated second in my class, Kennedy didn’t even make t
he top five. I had three companies offering me positions. Two were big name companies, Adams Lighthouse and Philip Conway, both owned by men with questionable ethics. The third company, Craven and Associates, was run by a woman. She promised me nothing, other than a paycheck twice a month, and great benefits. I didn’t think twice as I packed my stuff, and moved to Charleston.
So here I stand, like a prizefighter, before his next opponent. I hated having this fear; walking past the place where a man took my sense of security, by placing his hands on me when they weren’t welcomed. It made me feel weak. I didn’t think twice when I was a little girl. Taking on boys with snakes, fat assed jerks who couldn’t jump, or beating the shit out of a grown man, while telling another to eat shit and die, when he tried to boss me around.
But this…Facing my fears is different. A part of me can’t believe I was being such a wimp about this. The other, the frightened little girl, wanted to run home and sleep with a night-light, and teddy bear.
“Fuck it! Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
Just like the multitude of times before, I accepted defeat, and ran to my car.
The biggest mistake I’ve made in my life, is letting people stay far longer than they deserve.
~ Unknown
I was edging to that moment between dreams and waking. When you can see pictures fading away into wisps of memory, always leaving you confused by their meaning, and wondering what crazy item you ate the night before to cause them. Not to mention those irritating rays from the sunlight, which drag you the remaining distance to full consciousness.
I could hear irritating voices from across the room, arguing about something whose outcome will not change the fate of the free world. I knew it was too early for Keena to be enthralled with her latest reality obsession. It was something about arranging a marriage, or something like that.
Pulling my face from the confines of my pillow, I turned toward my alarm, the numbers on still blurry. I blinked several times, as the digits came into view.
“Shit!”
It was nine-fifteen, and my meeting with the division head was scheduled to start in thirty minutes. It takes at least that long to get to my office. I scrambled out of bed, my feet tangling in the white sheets. A brand Keena had whined about until I let her buy them. I’d have to skip the shower today, duck out at lunchtime, and then hit the one in the gym.
“Shh!”
Keena is sitting against the headboard of our bed, waving the remote in my direction, as she scolds me. Her breasts are still bare from the wild fucking we’d had last night. She’d just gotten off her period, and said she was pent up from going without. She didn’t let me tell her no, before she dove on the bed, and onto my face. She had my dick in her hand, as she ran her cunt up and down my face. Sucking me until I was rock hard, and then flipping herself around, riding me through three orgasms.
“Fuck off, Keena. My alarm didn’t go off, and I’m late.”
Being late for anything is on the top ten list of things I hate. To me, it sets the tone for the whole day. There’s no time to pour a cup of coffee, or eat a bowl of cereal. I’ll need to text Walker, as soon as I get into a taxi about my situation this morning.
As I’m finally leaving the penthouse, I nearly take out my neighbor, Jeffrey. I don’t normally see him since he’s an acting coach, and works from home. Keeping complete opposite hours from what I do.
“Sorry,” I hollered down the hall. As I ran for the stairs, my tie draped around my neck, and flapping behind me, as I sprinted for the exit doors. Taking the stairs two, and sometimes three, at a time, I’m thankful for the shape I’m in. Having two brothers who thrive on physical fitness, helps give me the motivation I need some days to make it to the gym. I have to slow down as I reach lobby. No telling which nosey board member is lurking about, just waiting for a reason to complain about me. With only a few younger residents in the building, I’ve been warned this could happen.
I make sure to say good morning to the concierge and building manager on my way out, giving them no opportunities to report anything bad back to their boss. Mr. Clemens, the doorman, has a cab door open, talking to the cabby inside.
“Mr. Morgan.”
I swear the man has eyes in the back of his head, as he calls my name. I hurry to jump into the back of the taxi, not meaning to be rude, but pressed for time. I’ve taken the liberty to learn as much about the people in my building as I can, knowing when something is out of the ordinary. Call me the eternal skeptic, but it does make me really good at my job. Mr. Carl Clemens, a high school dropout, who took over his job from his dying father, never married, and has a sister who lives in Jersey.
“Late start this morning?”
Carl and I have sat down a few times over a cold beer on my balcony. It’s frowned upon to associate with the staff, but he is the one person who knows practically everything that goes on in this building.
“Overslept.”
I admit, as he shut the door behind me, slapping the top of the taxi three times, as we pull away from the curb. Leaning back against the headrest, I feel slightly better that I will only miss about fifteen minutes of the meeting. Still, I fish my phone out of my pants pocket, and dial Scott’s number, which goes to voicemail without ringing. I know for certain he is in the meeting, and realize I’m running later than I’d originally thought. There is nothing I can do, except send a text to my colleague, letting him know what’s happened this morning. I’ve covered for nearly everyone on my team at least a dozen times, today they can cover for me.
The streets of the city are crowded with the early morning commuters. Thousands of men and women, just like myself, just trying to get to the fish bowl we all call home for eight hours. This particular cabby is making good time, and I’ll have to tip him well for getting me to the office with about five minutes to spare. My calm is increased. The homestretch is laid out before me. I can see the street sign at the end of the block where he can drop me off, and I can make my meeting. Reaching down to pull my card out of my pocket, I feel around for my security pass, only to come up empty. In my rush this morning, I’d left it laying on the kitchen bar. Adams Lighthouse is quite serious about security. Without my security badge, even my own momma wouldn’t be allowed to let me enter the building
“Dammit!”
My cursing captured the attention of the cab driver. As I explained my situation to him, he questioned if I would be averse to taking a different route back to my building. I responded by telling him there was an extra fifty in it for him, if he could get me back to this same intersection in less than twenty minutes.
Mr. Clemens gave me a puzzled look, as I exited the back of the cab before he had pulled completely to the curb. Taking the stairs three at a time, I’m again thankful for my moronic brothers, and their fitness obsessions. My hall is just as I left it, minus one Jeffrey Stone. No doubt he is overcharging some Broadway hopeful, to improve their chances of being the next star of Les Misérables.
As I open the door, I call out to Keena so that she doesn’t freak out. She watches too much television, which causes her to have an overactive imagination. She will swear I’m some street gang member coming to kill her.
“Babe, it’s just me. I forgot my badge.”
I can hear the television in the living room. The guy from the store I purchased it from, cussed under his breath, as he lifted the heavy flat screen onto the bracket on the wall. In my mind, I pictured having my friends over to watch a game, the pizza and beer flowing freely. Never once has it happened, what with Keena constantly monopolizing the system.
It’s evident as I walk around the corner, the television isn’t the only thing of mine she had been keeping to herself. Bent over the mirrored coffee table, she’d bragged was just like the one she saw on an episode of something, was Keena with my neighbor, Jeffrey Stone, slamming into the back of her.
She was so engrossed in the show she was watching, and he was so enamored with his dick sliding in and out of her pussy, neith
er of them heard me come in. Picking up the lamp, which we never used, from the table beside me, I hurled it straight through the screen of the television. Sparks popped and flew, as smoke rose from the back near the wall. Keena screamed like she had seen a ghost and clambered off the table, knocking Jeffery off her, and onto the edge of the couch.
With my badge secure in my hand, I pointed my finger at the pair, kicked the ricocheted lamp, and sent it crashing into the glass door of the balcony. “Get the fuck out of my house, before I get back tonight!”
I didn’t bother shutting the door as I left, giving the impression I wanted this exit to happen immediately. Keena screamed my name, followed by some bullshit about this not being what it looked like. Doesn’t everybody say that when they get caught? Like it was some magic phrase to make you forget what you just saw. Next, she would blame me for not paying attention to her. For just giving her money, instead of time. Admittedly, that one was most likely true. Still, it didn’t justify what the fuck just happened in there.
My taxi was still waiting, and the concierge was talking to one of the maintenance men, as I walked past. Without stopping my forward progression, I explained over my shoulder, “Miss Preston will no longer be a resident of this building. Make certain all of the staff knows she is trespassing if she is seen in the building after today.” So much for my attempt at keeping my name out of the board’s mouth.
My meeting was long over when I crashed into my office chair. By the look on my face, and the scarce greetings to my coworkers, they all steer clear of me. My office phone rang several times, but I lacked the motivation needed to answer it. Looking out my window, just as I had a few days ago, I now longed to return to the palm trees and brick streets of my hometown. I needed to distance myself from the people, and the bad memories this city has brought me. My cell vibrated in my pocket, mostly likely Keena with another excuse for fucking around behind my back. I have to pull the thing out anyway, as there are rules about cell phones, and where we can use them in the building.
Absolute Corruption: Southern Justice Trilogy Page 2