Her mission in life was to teach, so all that she’d been through was not in vain. She wanted to save others from the hurt and suffering she’d experienced. If she couldn’t save them, she could at least help them in healing. Her desire to help others was genuine. One day Venus Johnston-Parson would thank her for saving her child, giving her the foundation of God and Christianity.
It was the least Trevelle could do. She wasn’t able to save her own daughter but she would save Airic’s baby girl from a life of ill repute. She looked at the clock and set the alarm before pulling the silk mask over her eyes and facing her demons head-on. She fell asleep, accepting the fact that Cain visited her in her dreams every night and would probably do so for the rest of her life. She closed her eyes and welcomed his visit.
She craved Cain and couldn’t wait to see him every day. Soon, her education was an afterthought. He picked her up right outside of the middle school before the first bell rang. It was clear how much he cared, how much he wanted to take care of her. If only she were older, if only she weren’t a virgin, they could be together, he’d told her. What else was she to do but take things into her own hands, to prove to Cain she wanted to be with him just as much?
He wanted a real woman, he’d told her. She took it as punishment that she was relegated to her knees as her only duty, although she enjoyed it just as much as he did. She thought she understood why he was called “Cain,” like the wild sugar plants growing in the Mississippi fields in the back of her grandmama’s house. She’d only been there once when she and Kevin were little. The field was anybody’s paradise. All you had to do was break off one of the wildgrowing canes and chew and suck away.
At thirteen years old, there was only one way she knew how to be a real woman. The reasonable choice was Boomer, one of Kevin’s friends who’d been steady on her case the minute she entered Banner Junior High. Kevin no longer went to school. Instead, he spent all his time downtown selling drugs to the lunch crowd, so the coast was clear. Boomer was short and small for his age and tried to compensate with an eight-inch round Afro and oversize shirts that made him look even shorter. The conclusion: He was small so he wouldn’t hurt her.
By the end of lunch, in the back of the rotten wood bleachers, Boomer had helped himself to all that was offered. He poured his soul into her believing their consummation would become a ritual. “Now you’re mine,” he’d panted in her ear before she tossed him off her. No, she belonged to someone else and she couldn’t wait to spread the good news, the chains of virginity had been unlocked.
As the words spilled from her lips, she watched Cain’s hand rise up before coming down hard across her face. He grabbed the back of her neck and slammed her head into the dashboard. Two, three, four, she lost count how many times her head was shoved into the thick leather, shocking her face numb, beyond pain. “You want a be a whore? I’m a show you what whores do.”
Four hours later Cain dropped her off at her mama’s house and told her he’d be back for her the next day. She’d better not try to hide from him or he’d find her and hurt her. That evening she wept while she sat in the tub of hot bathwater, too ashamed to tell anyone. Cain had showed her exactly what whores do. He’d taken her to a sad apartment on top of a Chinese restaurant. He led her into the stuffy room filled with smoke and the suffocating potency of Chinese food. A woman lay sleeping on the couch. Cain swept across the room and slapped her so hard she fell onto the floor.
“What tha—?” She tried to get up and Cain slapped her again.
“Get yo’ lazy ass up and get to work.” He turned his gaze back on Trevelle. “Come here. I got somebody I want you to meet.”
“Who this, Cain? She what, twelve, thirteen?”
“She old enough. Ain’t that right?”
Trevelle nodded out of sheer and outright fear. Her eyes scanned the woman’s hard chapped lips and yellow teeth. The woman took in the welt growing underneath her eye. “My name is Nadia,” she said, getting back up on the couch. “What’s yours?” Her tone was almost motherly.
“Velle.”
“Get her some ice and stop all this lip jabbing. I don’t want her looking bruised up on her first day on the job.”
“Cain, no,” Nadia said, her eyes big hollow circles. “You ain’t gon do that. She a child.”
He raised his hand and she cowered, hiding from the strike that never came. “I said get her some ice.” He turned and faced Trevelle and put a soft hand against her cheek. He kissed her throbbing forehead where he’d slammed her into the dashboard. “It won’t hurt for long.” How right he was. She’d forgotten about the pain in her face where he’d hit her. The new pain was so much louder and stronger. It hurt like a million daggers pushing through her body. Three different men, grown men who’d had no problem taking a little girl and shoving her in the backseat of a car for five minutes’ worth of pleasure. All the while she screamed until her throat burned raw with exhaustion leaving behind the sound of a teenaged girl mourning her childhood once and for all. It was only the beginning of her nightmare, the never-ending vision that seeped into her sleep at night.
16
Jake
He pressed the power button on the flat screen television’s remote when he couldn’t take it anymore. He stretched his legs and leaned his back against the couch. He’d been up all night unable to get Airic Fisher out of his head, so he turned on the television and just his luck, landed on Trevelle Doval. He watched her every move, listened to her every word, and realized he was only getting more outraged at the situation. Surely he had more to be worried about than Airic and his holy wife. There was the small matter of his financial situation. Not that he was broke by any stretch of the imagination but money was relative. He had a life and a family to take care of. Lots of money going out and not a dime coming in would eventually present a problem.
Then there was the matter of his past creeping around his mind like a noisy ghost. The ghost was named Byron Steeple. The house was quiet. All the better to hear your cries with, my dear. Between Byron and now Airic Fisher in his head, Jake could’ve easily been the one to turn to the little white pills he held in his possession. He could use some mind-numbing assistance but thank goodness he’d never resorted to drugs of any kind. A taste of rich cognac on a late stormy night listening to Coltrane, now that was his fix. He leaned forward and picked up the glass and swirled the dark liquid around until it coated the sides. He took a sip and felt the sweet burn slide down his throat.
When he’d first come on the scene as a hip-hop artist, he’d been offered every kind of mind-altering drug known to man. He could admit now, fifteen years later, that he had been too scared to take anybody up on their offer. Too scared of losing control of his faculties. Afraid of what he might do once outside of his own mind.
How many times had he witnessed it? The aftereffects of too much crystal, an OxyContin mixed with a cocktail creating the ultimate aphrodisiac, turning anything with two legs into hunted prey. The penalty came in the form of rape charges, incurable diseases, and paternity papers. Jake ran with a small crew. He couldn’t afford entourages of six or twelve deep. He had a mother and brother who needed all the goodwill payments he could reasonably come up with at the time. So he kept his friends list to a minimum. Associates may have been a better term.
When his hotness played out, so did they. He’d have to say his failure on the second CD was the best thing to happen to him. Otherwise he’d probably still be out there trying to profile. Pretense was all it was, all it would ever be. Anybody who got the opportunity to escape through an open door would run like hell. An opportunity to produce, act, host, was like a get out of jail free card. The music industry was filled with nothing but leeches and frogs hopping onto the next best thing. When your lily pad sank, no one was there to offer a hand.
Jake had bought his freedom with his clothing business, JP Wear. It was still going strong with his name on the label, only he wasn’t there to make the decisions. All because of Byron Steeple.
He’d lost his business because of one man; he wasn’t about to lose his family, too.
He checked the time on his cell phone. 5:00 A.M. It would only be two on the West coast. If Georgina wasn’t up, she should be. He was paying her enough money to be on the clock twenty-four seven.
Her voice came on the line groggy but completely aware who’d interrupted her sleep. “Mr. JP.”
“The one and only,” he said with a smooth, tired voice. “When’s your flight?”
She stuttered slightly as she said, “I plan to be there for the court date, Jake. On time and accounted for.”
“Nah …. Sunday. He’s coming to pick up my little girl for visitation and you need to be here.”
“Listen, don’t even think about doing anything stupid. Do you hear me?”
“Exactly why you need to be here …. keep me from doing something stupid.” He slapped the cell phone closed before letting out the harsh groan of frustration. Any moment he expected his wife or mother-in-law to come rushing downstairs to see what the noise was. Then he remembered no one could hear anything in the big pretty house. When the hoarse groan seeped out of his throat, he didn’t try to hold back. He let the moment take him. If there was one thing he knew, anger should never be bottled up. Whoever created it, deserved to have it back tenfold.
17
Trevelle
Sundays were important to Trevelle, but not because she had work to do. Her shows were taped Monday through Friday and played nightly. By the time Sunday came around she was spent with exhaustion and simply needed time to rejuvenate. On occasion she accepted a Sunday invitation to visit a church and bless them with her words of gospel, though invites were getting fewer and fewer. Churches simply couldn’t afford her anymore. The honorarium wasn’t something voiced or put on paper. Trevelle Doval knew what she was worth and so did her fellow captains of ministry. They simply respected her enough not to insult her. Good thing, because this Sunday would have been cause for cancellation.
This particular Sunday was all about the child. Trevelle’s heart palpitated with nervousness, wondering how Mya would take to her, their first outing together as a family. The plan was to pick her up at nine, have breakfast, then go to a local church, something she was sure the child knew nothing about. Prayer. Devotion. Praise. The silly mother did her best to keep the child sheltered from God’s blessings under a veil of ignorance and damnation.
Trevelle snapped her makeup bag closed and checked her glowing smile in the mirror.
“Sweetheart are you ready?” She knocked on the door of Airic’s room. Inside, his clothes were strewn about, slacks, shirts, ties hanging on the edge of his bed. “What’s going on?”
He came out of the bathroom wearing boxers and socks. “I don’t know what to wear.”
“Sweetheart.” Trevelle opened her arms and let his head weigh on her shoulder. “You’re nervous. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine. This is your child. She will have an inherent love for you that not even her mother will be able to deny. A child knows instinctively who has their best interest at heart. She’ll know, she will know.”
He lifted his head. His eyes glistened with fear and regret. “I don’t know. Maybe—”
Trevelle put her finger to his lips. “Relax. Get dressed. Trust me, everything is going to be fine,” she said. She had no proof of that. Her nerves were on edge, too. She closed the door to his room. She sat on the couch and put her hands together; her long nails clicked, finding their place against each other. “Dear God, give him strength, give him peace of mind.”
Moments later Airic stepped out of the room wearing a white linen shirt with beige linen pants. He looked breezy and casual like they were preparing to take a walk on the beach instead of going to the Lord’s house.
“I want her to be comfortable around me. I think a suit’ll put her off a bit.”
“You can at least wear a tie, Airic. We’re visiting Mount Ebenezer, a Baptist church. Respectfully speaking, you look like some tropical gigolo, and where in the world did you get white shoes?”
Airic turned all confident, picked up his keys and said with a bright outlook, “My shoes are light tan. You coming?”
Trevelle took in a breath and held it. She didn’t want to ruin the small steps of progress, but this was not what she meant when she prayed for her husband to have his own mind and strength.
Pulling up to the house and seeing the extravagant, stylish mansion threw Trevelle for a loop. Not what she’d expected at all. Unemployed rappers weren’t supposed to live in palatial spreads fit for kings. All completely unexpected. The car idled. Airic’s jaw flexed against bone, then his Adam’s apple went up and down two or three times.
Trevelle handed him the bottle of water she’d been nursing to ease his obvious parched throat. “We’re already late as it is.” Her way of telling him to get a move on. We’ve come too far now.
She watched as he strode the straight pathway and rang the doorbell. Venus answered, and then darted a look past him to eye Trevelle sitting in the car. The front door closed but Airic remained standing in the same spot.
The little snarly haired woman was so predictable. Trevelle checked her watch to start timing before she’d make the call to the sheriff’s office. She held the judge’s order in one hand and her cell phone in the other with the number already typed in, fully prepared to do all that was necessary.
18
Venus
“Is she ready?” Airic stood on the porch with his hands in his pants pockets, giving off cool confidence.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you doing this, Airic? Why now?”
I felt Jake arrive by my side, radiating heat from his five-mile run on the treadmill. He wiped his face with the towel draped over his shoulders. His arms glistened with a sheen of perspiration. He stood firmly but didn’t say a word. Soon Georgina Michaels was next to Jake, followed by my mother. We were a solid unit but still powerless to stop what was about to happen.
“I’m not going to have this conversation with either of you,” Airic said, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Just get Mya.”
I slammed the door closed. Jake gave me a reprimanding look but remained silent.
Mya had been standing behind my mother the whole time, peeking past her thigh to see if this was really all about her. I bent down and looked her in the eye. “Sweetie, you remember what I told you. It’s just for the afternoon, and you’re going to have a great time. Daddy and I will be waiting when you get back.” I kissed her lightly on the nose, then the lips, then the forehead before getting the gentle squeeze on my shoulder.
“It’s okay, babe.” Jake’s way of telling me to calm down, telling me I was scaring Mya. I gave one last hug then took a second to get myself together. I opened the door to Airic, who hadn’t budged or moved a muscle. He simply waited patiently. After a certain period of time he was within his right to call the sheriff to come and escort the child out of the house. Georgina had warned us of the exact same thing. “You don’t want to have any unsportsmanlike behavior on record. No authorities involved. You’re going to follow orders, do exactly as you’ve been told to do by the court. Explain to Mya about her visit with a relative and how much fun she will have. Tell her you’ll be waiting when she gets home and that you love her very much.”
Even as Mya bucked, kicked, and screamed, calling out for Mommy while Airic led her down the cobbled pathway, all we could do was watch. Powerless. Jake gripped my hand so hard I thought he would crush it. Pauletta simply locked herself in the bathroom, unable to watch another minute of her grandbaby screaming in tears.
Few moments were as intense as this one. Nothing came close to having your child wrenched from your hands and dragged off. Didn’t matter that it was Airic. He knew nothing about Mya, her likes or dislikes. How she would drift away while no one was paying attention. Come find me, Mommy. But what if I wasn’t there to find her? What if she was lost and Airic didn’t know the game?
&n
bsp; “Mommmmy,” Mya wailed. “Daddeee.”
“She’ll be fine,” Airic called back toward us. “We’ll be fine.”
Georgina blocked the door when Jake attempted to take the first step out. “Okay, so the hardest part is over.” She clapped her hands together as if we’d all won a prize. Her crisp white blouse was unbuttoned low enough to see she was tanned to perfection on every inch of her body. “You cooperated fully with the judge’s orders.” She gave us a sympathetic nod. “We’re doing the right thing here. There’s nothing a judge hates more than to hear a parent didn’t comply with a court order.”
19
Trevelle
Trevelle pulled the sunshade down and flipped open the mirror. Heat built up in the car, making her perfect foundation break out in oily sprinkles all over her nose. There was a time when she needed no makeup at all, a time when she awoke beautiful with no assistance whatsoever. Those times she tried not to remember, when her youth and beauty had taken her down an unexpected and very wrong road. So long ago and far away her past floated overhead every now and again, coming down to remind her that she’d been a foul piece of work. Thank God for divine intervention. Even more proof of God’s good grace was the little girl coming toward her. Not of her own free will of course, but these things took time.
Mya wore jeans and a sky-blue T-shirt and a bow in her hair to match. She pitched a fit, screaming and yelling for her mommy and daddy as Airic carried her to the car. Understandable. Poor thing didn’t know any better. Trevelle sat still, though she really wanted to jump out of the car and meet them halfway and give the little one a stern talking to.
But of course Venus and her husband were still watching. She wouldn’t be surprised if they followed them to every destination out of spite.
Nappily Faithful Page 10