Full Figured 3: Carl Weber Presents

by Hampton, Brenda

  “Great time,” was all I said.

  The elevator opened and he extended his hand, inviting me to exit first.

  I walked down the hallway and Ronnie followed me. The keycard had door number 612 written on it, so I followed the arrows and made my way to it. When I found it, I stopped and Ronnie stopped behind me. I quickly turned.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Ronnie?”

  “Jus’ . . . just open the door. I need to go inside and holla at you about a few thangs.”

  I folded my arms, and in no way was going inside of the room with him. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it out here.”

  “It’s private, Desa Rae, and I’m not gon’ hurt you. I just want to get at you about some things with Roc, particularly about him gettin’ out of the game. I’m concerned about some things he’s been bringin’ on himself, as a permanent move like that can do more harm than good. I’m sure you understand.”

  I really didn’t want to let Ronnie inside of the room with me, but I also didn’t want to stand in the hallway discussing Roc. I told myself that if Ronnie tried anything stupid to kick him hard in his nuts and run!

  I opened the door with the card and went inside. The suite was very nice, but I didn’t have time to check it out like I wanted to because of Ronnie. He removed his suit jacket, then took a seat in one of the chairs by a window. I stood close by the bed with my arms folded.

  He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s not pretend, Desa Rae. You don’t like me and I damn sure ain’t got no love for you. You’ve managed to get at my li’l nigga’s heart and I’m not quite on board with that shit. I’ve thought about several schemes to get rid of you, and when anybody starts messin’ around with my money, I gotta do what I gotta do. You know what I’m sayin’?”

  “No, Ronnie, I don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t understand how I’m messing with your money, and quite frankly, I haven’t spent one dime of what belongs to you. As for your schemes to get rid of me, please let me know if that was a threat so I can get a restraining order against you and make the cops aware of this situation.”

  Ronnie chuckled and swiped his hand on top of his head. “Roc slippin’, Desa Rae, and when you slip, eventually you fall. When you fall, you fall six feet under. He slippin’ ’cause he ain’t focused on what needs to be done. I’ve lost a lot of money in the last several months, and while you got him out here at a two-bit-ass job, makin’ twelve or thirteen lousy dollars an hour, I’m losin’ mo’ money. While he busy over there playin’ house with you and yo’ gotdamn family, my family ain’t gettin’ takin’ care of. Now, I’m bein’ as nice as I can possibly be about this, but you and that baby girl need to quickly make way out of St. Louis. Tell that nigga somethin’ came up, and you gotta go. If you don’t, well, see, I would hate for somethin’ tragic to happen.” Ronnie shrugged. “Can’t say who it will happen to, ’cause I don’t know yet. But if you fall back, everything will be peaches and cream.”

  I stared at Ronnie and couldn’t even respond. All kind of hate for him was running through me, and I had never felt like this for anyone in my life. I didn’t even know fools like him existed, but sadly enough, they did. I went to the door and opened it.

  “Please get out,” I said. “You will have to do what you wish because I will never take orders from you.”

  Ronnie slowly stood up and stretched. With venom in his eyes, he walked to the door, looking me over. He reached his hand up, touching the side of my face. Before he could say anything, I smacked it away. He chuckled out loud and left. I slammed the door behind him, not sure if I would tell Roc about this incident.

  Chapter 7

  For whatever reason, I kept what Ronnie had said to me a secret. I hadn’t said one word to Roc about the letters I’d been getting in the mail, threatening my life. All they said was:

  You die, bitch! Your days are numbered!

  The letters started after my confrontation with Ronnie. Someone was constantly calling my house and hanging up, and when a man ran into the back of my car the other day, I was quite shaken up. It seemed as if he just wasn’t looking where he was going, and after the police came on the scene, everything checked out. Still, I was paranoid. I wanted to go to the police about this, but without any evidence against Ronnie, what could they really do? I intended to watch my back, and I did tell Roc to be very careful about his surroundings too. He assured me that he would. I did my best to make sure he spent plenty of days and nights with me, away from the drama that seemed to happen when he was on his turf. Roc seemed as if he had a new attitude about life, and he had not missed any more days at work. I was happy for him, and definitely happy about the way things were going between us.

  Christmas was just around the corner, and for Thanksgiving I had dinner at my house. Everyone from the breakfast crew was there, with the exception of Sherri. Latrel had finally brought his girlfriend home to meet me, and I held off on making any comments. All I could say was I liked her, she seemed nice, and she was African American. At this point, I realized that it didn’t even matter. As long as he was happy, I was. Until he intended to marry someone, I told Latrel he would never hear my mouth again.

  Things were going so well that I had even started talking sensibly to Reggie again. He was in counseling and told me how much it was helping him. We hadn’t laughed together in quite some time, and when he came over one day, apologizing again for what he’d done, I was okay. I was pleased that he’d realized his mistakes, but made it clear that we could never turn back the hands of time. He understood.

  On Christmas morning, I got a call from Roc, telling me that he wasn’t feeling well so he was staying at home. I was looking forward to our time together, and so was Chassidy. She wanted to give Li’l Roc his gift and I wanted to give him the ones I had bought him too.

  “I hope you feel better,” I said over the phone to Roc. “And if you come over, I promise to take care of you.”

  He let out a hacking cough, and asked me to hold while he spat. “I’m feelin’ so miserable I can’t even move. I’ll get at you on the weekend, promise. Now let me talk to Chassidy so I can wish her a Merry Christmas.”

  I gave the phone to Chassidy, very disappointed that Roc wasn’t coming over. While she talked to him, I turned to Latrel, who was coming up from the basement on his way over to Reggie’s house.

  “Where’s Roc at?” Latrel asked.

  “He’s not feeling well today. Said he wasn’t coming over until the weekend.”

  “I’ve been feeling a little under the weather too, but I took some Tylenol Cold & Flu last night. I feel much better.”

  I touched Latrel’s forehead, just to see if he was running a fever. He wasn’t. “Well, go ahead over to your father’s house. Tell him I said hello and don’t forget to get his presents underneath the tree.”

  “I won’t. But since Roc isn’t coming over, why don’t you and Chassidy go over to Dad’s house with me? It’s not like you doing anything else.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Have fun and I’ll see you later.”

  Chassidy gave the phone to me, and Roc had already hung up.

  “Can Chassidy go with me then? I mean, it’s Christmas, Mama, and she don’t want to be cooped up in the house.”

  “We weren’t going to be cooped up. I had planned on baking some Christmas cookies and chocolate cupcake bears.”

  “I don’t want to leave you by yourself, but if you don’t want to go with me, at least let her go.”

  Chassidy always loved going with Latrel, so I put on her clothes and told the two of them to have fun. It wasn’t the first time I was alone on Christmas, and I suspected it wouldn’t be the last. Besides, my house had gotten kind of messy, so I decided to spend my day cleaning.

  Around noon, I was taking a break from vacuuming the floors and sat breathlessly at the kitchen table. I had a tall glass of ice-cold water in my hand, guzzling it down pretty quickly. The news had just come
on, and at the top of the hour there was breaking news. Apparently, there was a murder in St. Louis and a police officer had been shot at as well. The person identified was a twenty-nine-year-old black man by the name of Craig M. Jackson. I somewhat ignored the story, because it disturbed me that so many black men were getting killed. It always made me think of Roc, and as the reporter wrapped up her story, she repeated the name. This time, she said that Mr. Jackson also went by the name of Mississippi, and if anyone had any information they were asked to call the number on the screen.

  Almost immediately, my heart dropped to my stomach. I couldn’t believe Mississippi was dead, and less than a month and a half ago, he and Roc stood outside of the church, arguing. I wondered if there was any connection and my gut was sending off signals that there was. I rushed to my bedroom to put on some clothes, and, yes, I wanted some answers. I didn’t think Roc was capable of murder, but he damn sure knew something about this.

  When I got to Roc’s place, I started to use the key he had given me awhile back, but instead I knocked. I got no answer, so I knocked again. Finally, after knocking for at least five minutes, he opened the door. I immediately noticed a small bruise underneath his left eye and a scratch on his neck. No, he didn’t look happy to see me and the cold stare in his eyes said so.

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  He covered his face with his hand, wiping down it. “Dez, I’m tired. I was upstairs sleepin’, tryin’ to work off this cold.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  Roc turned and headed up the stairs. He went back into his bedroom and got underneath the covers. The room was partially lit by the sun’s rays coming through the window, but I turned on the light.

  “What happened to your eye?” I asked.

  “I ran into somethin’.”

  “And the scratch on your neck?”

  “Somethin’ bit me and I kept scratchin’ it.”

  “Roc, stop lying. I thought we didn’t go there with each other like that anymore.”

  He sat up in bed and put his hands behind his head. “Are you over here because I didn’t come to your house for Christmas? I told you I wasn’t feelin’ well and nothin’ else needs to be said.”

  “What happened to Mississippi?”

  He cocked his head back. “Who?”

  “Sippi. The one you got into it with at the wedding. The news reported that he was murdered. I thought you may know something about it.”

  Roc shrugged. “That’s what that nigga get. No love lost here, and if I did know somethin’ about it, so what? What you gon’ do, call the police on me or somethin’? You runnin’ up in here like you tryin’ to get info for a reward.”

  “I don’t know what I would do with the truth, but I want to know if you had anything to do with it.”

  Roc didn’t answer. He reached for a Black & Mild cigar next to him and lit it. “So you don’t know what you would do, huh? I feel you, ma, but just so you can sleep at night, no, you don’t have a murderer lyin’ in bed next to you and runnin’ up in that pussy. I don’t get down like that. Sippi had a whole lot of haters, as well as enemies. Ain’t no tellin’ who put two in his head, but it damn sure wasn’t me.” Roc defensively held out his hands. “Could have been anybody. Now, please, please can I get some rest? If it makes you feel better, I will stop by tomorrow. Promise.”

  Roc took a few more puffs from the Black & Mild, then put it out in the ashtray. I watched as he threw the covers back over his head, trying his best to ignore me. I really wasn’t in the mood for this on Christmas Day, so I turned to leave. As I walked down the hallway, I stopped dead in my tracks. The news hadn’t mentioned anything about Mississippi being shot twice in the head, and how would Roc know that? I turned, making my way back to his room, clearing my throat.

  He snatched the covers off his head and sighed.

  “I’m going to get out of your hair soon, but I wanted you to know that your cough is already sounding better. Let me know what kind of medicine you used, as it seems to work magic. Pertaining to Mississippi, I don’t really care what happened to him, as I firmly believe you reap what you sow. But the news didn’t mention that he was shot twice in the head. The only person who would know that is the killer, or the one who made the order to have it done. That’s just something for you to think about while you’re resting.”

  Roc held out his hands again, staring at me with a cold expression. “I said it wasn’t me.”

  I left the room with nothing else to say. I knew Roc had something to do with it, but he would never tell. This secretive life he lived was killing me and there was so much about it that I didn’t want to know, then again I did. I figured the truth behind all of it would hurt me, as well as, someday, Chassidy. I never wanted to sit her down and tell her what kind of man I suspected her father to be. A killer? I wasn’t sure yet, but I prayed on my way out that it simply wasn’t true.

  I had gotten about two miles away from Roc’s place when I saw a familiar face driving in the opposite direction on Grand Boulevard. It was Vanessa. I didn’t think she’d seen me. When I got to the light, I quickly made a U-turn just to see where she was going. She drove a white convertible BMW and I wasn’t about to let it get out of sight. That thought was short-lived, as the light turned yellow and she rushed through it. I had to stop at the light and it seemed to take forever. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, already feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. I tried to loosen the knot by taking deep breaths, but the deeper my breaths got, the knot seemed to tighten more. The light changed, and Vanessa’s BMW was out of my sight. That in no way mattered, and when I got to Roc’s place, her car was already parked out front. She must have been inside, so I waited to see how long she’d stay. I couldn’t believe that I was spying on Roc, but there were some things that I needed to know because he wasn’t telling. Do I stay out here? I kept asking myself. Or do I go to the door? I sat in the car, debating with myself, and had also thought about just going home. That’s what I should have done, but it didn’t seem like much of an option. Before I knew it, I had been sitting in the car for about forty-five minutes. I had hoped that Vanessa would’ve come out by now, but she hadn’t. I was so hurt inside, but my hurt wouldn’t allow me to shed one tear, even though my throat felt as if it were burning, and my hands were starting to tremble. I took another deep breath, eventually saying, “Fuck it.”

  I got out of my car, making my way to the door. I fumbled around with my keys in search of the one Roc had given to me. I knew he had plenty of guns inside, and there was a possibility that I could get hurt. I figured Vanessa was the kind of woman who would protect her man at any cost, but I didn’t care. I was numb and wasn’t thinking clearly right now. I turned the lock, slowly pushing the door open. Immediately, I heard loud rap music playing, and it wasn’t until I got midway up the stairs that I heard Vanessa moaning as if she were in tremendous pain. My entire body felt weak, and my legs felt as if I had been running a marathon. At that point, I knew I had all of the answers I needed. I wanted to turn around to leave, but this was an out-of-body experience that I had never felt before. I kept on moving up the stairs, and when I almost reached the top, I turned to my right. That’s where all of the action was taking place. Roc was sitting up on the couch with no clothes on, leaning back and looking helpless. Vanessa’s near-perfect naked body was straddled on top of him. Her back was facing him and she was giving him one hell of a ride. His head was dropped back and eyes were squeezed tight. So were hers. Seeing his dick plunge into her insides made me ill. His hands roamed her ass and he had the nerve to smack it. Then he eased his hand around to her clitoris, teasing hers like he often teased mine. She was near tears. All she could do was tell him how much she loved him. I’ll be damned if he didn’t respond, “Daammn, baby, I love how you do this shit! Keep on fuckin’ me like this, and nobody makes me feel like you do!”

  I’d heard it all before and could have fallen down the stairs as I quickly made my way out. As weak as my legs we
re, I almost did fall. I didn’t care that I probably had their attention, and by the time I reached the porch, it was obvious that I did. Roc called after me, but I kept it moving. I hurried to my car, and he chased after me with a towel wrapped around his waist. Dick was still probably dripping wet from the festivities. As he crossed the street, a car almost hit him but swerved out of the way. The driver blew his horn, yelling profanities out of his window.

  “Fuck you too,” Roc said, running up to my car. He banged on the window, telling me to lower it. I looked in my side mirror making sure it was clear to pull off. It was, so I did.

  I was a nervous wreck driving home. I kept smacking away my falling tears, fighting my pain. I don’t know what it was about me that always tried to play the tough role, but this time, Roc had broken me down. I don’t even think my divorce from Reggie had hurt this bad, only because at the age of forty-two, going on forty-three, I found myself in a very similar situation. The choices I had made had cost me dearly, but anyone could say what they wanted; I in no way deserved this. Bullshit came at any age, and some men would never stop bringing it. It was up to me to do better and I knew it. Sadly, I took a risk and in no way did it pay off.

  As soon as I got home, I rushed inside and hurried to take off my clothes. I turned on my shower and got inside to let the warm water pour down on me. I had a sponge in my hand, scrubbing my skin hard, attempting to wash away the touch of Roc’s hands. I knew the scrubbing was doing me no good, but I felt like the water was cleansing my mind, body, and soul. I closed my eyes, thinking of every single time he’d touched me, and couldn’t get the thoughts of what I had just witnessed at his place out of my mind. Finally, the tears streamed down my face and I cried harder than I had ever cried before. I asked myself over and over again, Where did I go wrong? At the end of the day, I knew I had no one else to blame for this but myself. I’d let my guard down, and how in the hell did I allow myself to trust a man like him? That was one big mistake, and I should have seen this coming. He toyed with my feelings before he’d gone to prison, and this time was no different. He couldn’t give up Vanessa if his life depended on it, and there was no telling who else was in the picture. Like in the past, I bet he’d been running from one woman to the next, pretending as if I was the one who had changed his life around. I hadn’t changed nothing, and today proved to me that Roc was the same man that he’d been before. Damn! Why me?