“Does J.T. know he has a sister?” Too intrigued by the skeletons in their closet, I was nothing but all ears. Pouring my cup of coffee down the sink, joining Beth in drinking in the wee hours of the morning, the drama she was putting on the table was more than a reason to get lit.
“Of course not! What type of mother would I had been if I let my only son be raised with a black girl? I did what any well-educated, respectable white woman would’ve done and got my husband back in line. I’d worked too hard at training my husband on how to provide. No nigger woman or her child was gonna reap my riches.” The more Beth talked, the more scorned she sounded. Instead of controlling the situation and keeping the family she thought was so sacred to her, Beth had been pushing down resentment for James for over twenty years.
“I wonder what my mother would’ve done if dad put her in the same situation. And, hell, what would I do if J.T. followed in his father’s footsteps?” Staring at Beth I really wanted to know what her honest response would be.
“Your mother would’ve kept her family together by any means. Your dad is a very prestigious man, he has women paying to suck his dick. So I’m sure your mother stands in her corner of the ring with a list of demands of her own. We as the wives of successful men must know how to play our part.”
Mrs. Schultz was in rare form. I’d never heard her speak so brash.
Shawntay
Speeding down the highway doing about a hundred mph, I was spitting bullets mad. All my life I’d been fighting against the odds, coming up short each time. I was tired of the struggle, I was tired of losing, and I was tired of never at least being the runner-up. Shawntay Jenkins ain’t never been shit! Calling Shannon over and over again, each call was going straight to voicemail. My faith was starting to waver as I felt hopeless. “Oh, God, please stop punishing me. Can I have another chance at having a relationship with my only daughter?” Screaming out, hitting the steering wheel in anger, my frustration was boiling over. Nothing I was doing was enough. No path I was walking was getting me closer to forgiveness from Shannon. I might’ve been a demon in my earlier days but I was walking as a saint in my eyes today. When would my punishment end? Why me?
He and his racist wife slandered even the saved name I’d been diligently working on. I knew I was nothing more to Jimmy than a quick nut but I hadn’t expected him to still be so cold even after telling him I was diagnosed to die. At some point in my life before it was all over, I guessed I was still expecting more than a cold shoulder.
There was no reason for me to hold on to hope anymore. Snatching from my nightstand drawer the bag of medications my doctor said would help prolong my life, or at least keep me out of pain while my immune system ate away at itself, I swallowed a mouthful of pills then drank a full glass of water. The rest I dumped down the toilet bowl then flushed. “I’m over this life! Ain’t shit been happy about my ever after!” Walking with determination into the living room, I grabbed the bottle of Absolut I’d successfully walked past for three years and unscrewed the top. Drinking my first sip, I’d missed the hard, harsh taste, the burning sensation going down my throat, and the immediate buzz liquor brought me. “I’m sorry I ever left your side!”
Giving into my temptation, this was the only thing that ensured my mind didn’t have to deal with how pitiful I actually was. Tilting it back, drinking the whole fifth down nonstop, I didn’t care that my body was starting to negatively react from the mixture of alcohol and prescriptions. Once done with the first bottle, I grabbed another fifth then drank it straight down too. I was weak, wobbly, and barely breathing. They say a recovering alcoholic should get rid of all their liquor in their house to help lessen the chance of relapsing. I guessed my walk to recovery was just as much of a joke as my walk with the Lord. Feeling my chest starting to hurt then tighten up, I fell to the ground gasping for my last breath. This was it.
James
I was finally about to do right by Shannon and Shawntay; well, at least until her final days. Neither one of them deserved to be shunned when I was the one who’d made them a reality in my life in the first place. All of these years of allowing Beth and Sally to dictate how Shannon was raised was the worst mistake of my life. No matter how many days I tried denying it, my heart had a place for Shannon and I didn’t want to end up burying her like she was about to have to do her mother. Reaching down on my hip, grabbing my phone from the holster, I saw it was my mother calling again, probably on behalf of Beth. The puppet master games were over.
“Hello.” I spoke calmly into the phone, turning down the street I last knew Shawntay’s house to be on. “If you’re calling to berate me, Mother, you’ve wasted your time.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind? I called your house to speak to Beth but she’s a drunken mess. She told me about that nigger lover you’ve called yourself running after. You need to turn that car around, get home to your wife, and pray to God you haven’t ruined my opportunity to die a rich woman!” Screaming into the phone ol’ Sally was still the same bitter old woman my dad grew to resent.
“Beth better prepare the guest room because I’ll be bringing Shannon home to meet the family she should’ve grown up with. It’ll be nice if you’re there.” I taunted her with my words knowing it was getting under her skin.
“Over my dead body, James Theodore Schultz III.”
“Then I guess the first family function Shannon will attend will be your funeral.” Hanging up, I was moments away from knocking on Shawntay’s door. I owed her a few apologies and, from the looks of this shabby, half-standing house, a few dollars to upgrade herself. Over all the years of death wishes I’d begged God to curse Shawntay with was finally unfolding. I wouldn’t say God was the one responsible for shortening her lifespan because I was the one busy praying against her existence and today I knew it was too late to wish all of those words away. All of that time and energy could’ve been put toward helping Shannon have at least half the life afforded to my son. Shawntay’s only request of me was to help her and Shannon mend their relationship; that was the least I could do.
Chapter Twelve
Shannon
Me and Dazz had been sitting by the water blowing through blunt after blunt kicking it about all of the nonsense at the club. At first I’d gotten amped up with him telling me Isis and her group of flunkies was dropping innuendo Facebook statuses about getting at me after tonight’s shift. But that energy was soon diverted to thinking of a plan to get at them first. I was tired of everyone marking me for weak so it was time to start biting bitches’ heads off. I’d taken more strife than a little bit but was still standing strong. As much as I hated the women in my life, Sally and Shawntay, their trifling asses broke the soft spirit these chicks in the street thought they were testing in me.
After a while the calming scenery, sound of the waves, and loudness of the Kush we were blowing had me in a meditating zone not thinking about Isis or her posse but the whirlwind of unexpected events with Shawntay and now James. It was easy for me to diss my mother but my father was the one person I always wanted a relationship with. Now with him calling me I didn’t know if that option was on the table. I was grown enough to know I was the ugly duckling child he couldn’t claim but those few hours at my grandmother’s were the only happy moments I ever had in my childhood. I couldn’t help but pour my heart out as Dazz became my sounding board for all of the shit I’d been holding in about my growing up neglected, Shawntay, Sally, and my father. He was one helluva listener and, real talk, I needed the bootleg therapy session. Because most females were jealous of my looks, afraid that I would steal the attention they craved from their man, I rolled solo-dolo never having anyone to confide in. Even the chicks who had egos big enough to not be intimidated by me didn’t want to roll with the peasant-looking girl. That’s how Amsterdam, vodka, and Patrón became my best friends. They never tested a bitch’s loyalty and always were loyal, listening to my woes.
“Damn, I ain’t know it was like that, Butter. I could tell you
came with a story, but I ain’t know it was that deep.” He ashed the blunt, reaching for the Naked fruit smoothie he was drinking. “Isis and them better come correct or not come at all. You’re working with more than a few bolts loose up there.”
“I ain’t worried about that McGruff the Crime Dog–looking bitch or her clique, please believe me!”
“A’ight, A’ight, save all that ‘go hard, scrap a bitch up’ energy for your shift. We already know Isis won’t be on deck until afterward ’cause her face is fucked up but her girls will be lurking all night. I know you ain’t worried but them project chicks be on some gritty shit,” he warned. “But you can’t be tough every day of your life, baby. You’re smooth like Butter, not tough as nails. So when you need a break from being a gangster in the streets, you can come be the soft ass I know you really are.” He passed the blunt, giving me a nudge. Dazz got up, straightening his clothes then holding his hand out for me to grab.
High as hell feeling more relaxed than I’d ever been, Dazz had gotten me together most definitely. I might’ve been floating off THC but my stomach still fluttered with butterflies. Dazz knew we had to take yet another rain check on going to eat but he seemed to be just as satisfied with us kicking it on some one-on-one shit. “Can you stop at the gas station so I can get a Red Bull and a few blunts for my charity case weed?” I joked with him but was serious about needing to make the stop.
“I got you. Since we ain’t grabbing nothing to eat, I’m gonna need another smoothie and some junk food to hold me over.” He rubbed his stomach.
Driving across the bridge then crossing over Jefferson, we pulled directly into the Speedway gas station, which had just been renamed after the Isle. Stan Dilbert left no major landmark in the city alone. Everything had to undergo a major renovation for his cracker-ass billionaire friends to even think about investing in Deadly Detroit. No matter how hard he tried to clear out the black folks, the diehards weren’t going anywhere. The gas station was fairly empty except for early morning risers, workers, and kids running errands for their mom.
“G’on and run in, baby girl, throw fifty dollars in the tank, grab my smoothie and some healthy-looking shit, and whatever you was buying.” He handed me a hundred dollar bill. I might’ve had stacks of cash in my purse but I was never quick to spend my own. Unlocking the doors, sliding out, he walked around to the passenger side, popping the gas door plus opening mine.
Blushing from ear to ear, it felt good having someone who was honestly all the way on my team. Running into the convenience store of the station, I hurried through the aisles grabbing more than a few snacks for him to choose from plus the stuff I wanted to nibble on. Making it to the cashier, I tossed him the one hundred spot for the gas, Dazz’s stuff, and my Red Bull, pop, chewing gum, potato chips, and a few packs of White Owls. Waiting on the cashier to hand over my change, I stood back looking out of the window, scoping the scene. “Dazz, oh my God! Watch out!”
Swerving into the Belle Isle gas station on two wheels, it was my nemesis Isis driving a minivan filled with goons. “Dazz, it’s Isis!” Nothing about this seemed right. Dropping everything I was holding onto the floor, I ran toward the door never once hushing my screams trying to warn him. But it was too late. The entire east side of Detroit was awakened by an explosion of AK-47 gunshots. As bullets ripped through the Yukon truck, I stood in horror crying like a newborn baby watching the only nigga who had my back get murked. Not having my purse I wasn’t strapped to shoot back. Damn! “Dazz! Please, God, don’t say he’s dead!”
“There’s that crossbreed bitch right there! Blast her ass!”
Hearing the call made on my life, I dove to the right into the chip rack in an attempt to dodge the bullets now spraying the gas station up.
James
Shawntay’s body was sprawled across the same living room floor I once used to bang her back out on. Scared to touch her, not wanting to contract the virus, I waited on the ambulance I’d called once peeking through the window seeing her like this. They wanted me to feel for a pulse once bursting through the window but I wasn’t having that. I could tell she was still slightly breathing from placing nothing but a small fingertip on her back. Looking around the tiny house, much had changed since being here drinking on her dusty couch. Not smelling the lingering scent of marijuana anymore, from the numerous amounts of scriptures, quotes, and certificates praising her continued sobriety, I hung my head low once I saw the two bottles of fifth completely bone dry. Me and Beth were probably the responsible ones for making her relapse, possibly drinking herself dead.
Help finally arrived.
“Emergency!” The paramedics rushed into her house as I backed away from her body.
“She just told me about an hour ago she was HIV-positive. I just found her like this.” I spat out a warning, looking in horror as they rolled Shawntay over onto her back prepping her for CPR.
“We’ve got this, sir, thank you. Are you her next of kin? Will you be trailing the ambulance or riding with her?” As they fought to keep Shawntay from dying, I was selfish trying to use that as my one time to beg God to have mercy on her soul. I didn’t want her death hanging over my head any longer than it had to.
“No, I’m not her next of kin but I can try getting in touch with her daughter for you. And yes, I’ll be trailing you to the hospital,” I finally responded as they stabilized her breathing then strapped her down onto the stretcher.
“Okay, put your hazards on and stay close behind. We’ll be going to Henry Ford Hospital. If you get too far behind, please abide by the traffic laws as we cannot be liable for any tickets or accidents.” The paramedic ran down the rules as Shawntay was rolled up into the ambulance. As they closed the doors and hit the sirens, my heart dropped not knowing Shawntay’s fate. Just like that, the emergency vehicle rolled up the street heading toward the hospital my firstborn was birthed at. Digging my phone from my blazer, I saw both Sally and Beth had called but I dismissed them both to dial Shannon’s to deliver some bad news.
Shannon
As I heard the minivan swerve off, I climbed off the floor dusting debris off of myself. With a face full of tears coming from my eyes, I was too afraid to face what was outside.
The cashier could barely keep a steady-paced voice trying to report the drive-by shooting. “It was a dark-colored van, maybe black, and there’s a man drooped over dead still pumping gas into his car.”
Running through the doors like a madwoman over shattered glass not wanting this whole ordeal to be true, I fell to my knees onto the rocked cement once my eyes locked in on Dazz’s lifeless body. His eyes were bugged out wide, his spunk had been murdered, and his hard head had been splattered with his brain oozing down onto his once-fresh outfit. “Turn the motherfucking pump off you greedy-ass bastard!” Hollering to the attendant, seeing gas spilling out all over the bullet-punctured Yukon, Dazz’s hand was caught on the pump of the handle, meaning the gas was spurting out onto him too. “Turn the fucking pump off you ’rab-ass monkey!” He wasn’t doing shit but milking every dollar of this sale as Dazz’s body hung like a rag doll. “Damn, my baby, I’m so sorry.” Shaking my head, letting the tears fall uncontrollably, my heavy heart told me this wasn’t a horrendous nightmare I’d soon wake up from.
Hearing tires burn rubber from a close distance, there was no time to mourn my homeboy ’cause I feared Isis was doubling back. Climbing up off my knees, I ran around to the other side of the truck, stepping up so I could snatch my purse from the passenger seat. Grabbing my loaded pistol from my bag, if it was Isis trying to bring more heat, I wasn’t going down without at least busting a bullet her way. I slid my shoes off, throwing them in my purse instead. I wasn’t a stranger to walking barefoot from my li’l tike days with Shawntay. “Protect me from these bitches. Dazz, you were right, I am smooth as butter. This gangsta shit ain’t for me!” Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I said a prayer to God for the only dude who had my back to rest in peace before breaking camp on two heels away from
the crime scene.
Getting back to my car after running barefoot more than probably four blocks, I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking uncontrollably as I tried to dig my car keys from my oversized purse. I’d almost gotten hit trying to cross at a flashing light but being moments away from solidarity within this car eased my anxiety. This shit was all my fault! You couldn’t tell me anything different! Had I not made him stop on a dummy mission for my own needs, none of this never would’ve happened! He told me they were out for my head; why weren’t we being more careful? Finally finding my keys then hitting the alarm, I jumped in, immediately scanning the perimeter to see if Isis and her crew were creeping around to finish the job. I was almost sure they knew I hadn’t been hit; and from the looks of it she wasn’t trying to handle our beef without bullets. Damn, Dazz, this shit is all bad! Can you promise to watch out for ya’ girl from heaven?
The eerie feeling I had going onto the Isle in the first place had been right. Hearing sirens then seeing cops floating up Jefferson one behind the other, I started my car, getting the fuck out of dodge. Coasting up the side streets trying to stay clear of any more problems, I dialed Jay’s number, needing to take him up on the offer to crash at the hotel. With Dazz a few miles back in a puddle of blood on account of Isis and her goons, no way was I about to go home. I was bad luck to everyone I met. Hopefully my bad fortune wouldn’t pass off on Jay too.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” I was trying not to breathe heavily into the phone.
Around the Way Girls 9 Page 9