The Dirty Red Series

by Vickie M. Stringer

  Terry sat across from her new representative. Looking at the brighter side of things, she was glad to see that another woman was assigned to her. Not only was she a woman, she was a black woman. The apprehension she had a few minutes ago subsided and she felt comfortable, but despite Chass being a sista, she wasn’t going to let her guard down.

  Chass shuffled her papers, looking for something. Terry assumed it was important.

  “Tell me what happened, Terry,” the woman spoke softly, still searching through the papers. She stopped when she found what she was looking for. She looked at Terry over the rims of her out-of-date glasses, waiting for her response.

  “Mekel used to be my boyfriend. We had a good relationship, or I thought we did.”

  Chass smiled and nodded her head for Terry to continue.

  “I know this has nothing to do with it, but I loved him with everything I had.” Terry stared behind the woman, at an invisible spot on the wall.

  “I heard that Mekel was seeing other women, but when I asked him, he denied it and I believed him. Why? Probably because I wanted to. I never had luck with men. They all took from me and left me with kids they don’t want to claim, but Mekel was different. He accepted my children and me. Because of that, I gave freely.”

  Terry closed her eyes and continued to talk. “When I learned that he got Kera pregnant, it felt like . . . like, I can’t describe the pain, it hurt so bad.”

  She felt a tear cascade down her cheek. “Again, I didn’t want to believe it, even though she confirmed it. I let my insecurities push him into her arms.” Terry was shocked at her admission. She realized she was beginning the healing process.

  “Terry, what about the baby? Did you intend to hurt him?”

  “Chass,” Terry said cautiously. “May I call you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Chass, I’m a mother. I’ve gone through some labor pains that would have you on your ass.” They both laughed. “The baby.” She paused. “I would never hurt a baby . . . mine, Mekel’s, anyone’s.”

  “What were you going to do with him if you didn’t get caught?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know, but I do know one thing, I wouldn’t have hurt him. That baby should have been a part of Mekel and me. If anything, I guess I just wanted to hold him,” Terry admitted quietly.

  Terry could tell by the way the woman’s eyes glazed up and the quiver in her throat that she was moved by her story. Unbeknownst to Terry, Chass understood what she was going through. She’d stood by her man when he didn’t have shit, and once he became something, another woman came along reaping all of the benefits that she should have had.

  Chass slid some papers toward Terry. “I want you to look through these and tell me if these accounts are accurate.”

  Terry again raised her hands to alert her representative that she was unable to use them. Chass then moved her seat to the same side of the table as Terry and they looked over several reports. The first was the police report and the statements made by Kera and Mekel.

  Terry shook her head and sighed after she read Kera’s statement. Chass made note of the exaggerations that Terry pointed out in Kera’s report.

  The second report was information from Scott Memorial Hospital about the baby. Terry exhaled loudly in relief: the child had suffered no permanent damage from the fall, despite being dropped and suffering through a coma.

  The third report looked foreign to Terry. “What’s this?” she questioned.

  “Blood work,” Chass said, nonchalantly. She cleared her throat, then spoke. “Terry, I need to ask you a question; please be honest.”

  Terry wondered what else the lawyer could ask that she hadn’t already revealed.

  “How did you feel when you and Mekel broke up?”

  “What?” Terry stared at her attorney like she was crazy.

  “How did you feel when you and Mekel broke up?” Chass repeated slowly. She looked at a piece of paper with a lot of numbers on it.

  “At first I was angry, then I got mad. When the baby came,” she reflected, “I felt like I went into a depression and had lots of mood swings. I was sure if I didn’t have kids of my own, I probably would have tried to kill myself.” Terry knew for sure she was on the road to healing. It was now time to move to phase two.

  Chass smiled. Terry validated what was displayed in her psychiatric evaluation. “Atypical depression.” Terry saw that written on the paper with her test results, but she had no idea what it meant.

  • • •

  The thumping beats of Ludacris’s “Money Maker” awakened Sasha. She blinked focusing her eyes on the scenery out of Blue’s black convertible Cadillac Roadster. The early fall sun was bright in the sky, but the tint on the windows shielded her from the rays. The green leaves on the trees were at their deepest hue. Sasha sat up and rested her head against the custom-made headrest, enjoying the comfort of luxury. As they breezed down I-280 east, she looked to the left at Blue.

  “Wha’sup, ma,” he said as he smiled and bobbed his head to the beat.

  So it wasn’t a dream, she said to herself. I really took Blue from Red. She shifted in her seat. “How much farther?”

  “Shid . . . about twenty minutes.”

  Sasha laughed to herself. Niggas and they twenty minutes.

  Blue looked at her while she stretched and laughed. “What’s so funny?”

  “Red used to go to sleep all the time in the car.” Blue reminisced on their weekend getaways. “Good ole Red . . .” He paused before he spoke again. “She was an eager student, always willing to learn.”

  Sasha noticed that he reached down to his crotch and adjusted himself. I know this nigga ain’t getting hard thinking about Red while I’m with him. “Looks like she perfected her game.”

  Blue veered off onto the New Jersey Turnpike, I-95 North. They were not too far from their destination. “You shocked me, though,” he admitted, looking at Sasha quizzically. “You didn’t strike me as a bitch who’d like pussy.”

  “Pussy?!” Sasha yelled angrily. “Aw, hell naw.”

  Blue ignored Sasha’s protest. “Well, the way you ate her pussy, I almost came on myself. You see how I pounded that ass after you got it good and wet for me?” he bragged.

  The memory quickly came into focus in her mind. Get it wet for me, Sasha . . . Suck that pussy and get it right for me. Sasha closed her eyes in shame as she remembered how Red held her head, forcing her into her pussy until she came. Sasha did what Blue asked her to do only for him to mount Red and fuck her.

  “Fuck that bitch Red. And if I did fuck women, I definitely wouldn’t fuck a dirty-ass bitch like her. Ho think she all that, but truth be told, she ain’t shit.” Sasha snapped. She didn’t like Blue disrespecting her the way he did.

  “Slow yo’ roll, ma!” Blue warned. “Regardless what you say, you can only respect her game. It was you who had your face in her pussy. Not the other way around.”

  “Why you glorifying that dirty bitch? You just another nigga she played.”

  The car finally came to a stop in an exclusive residential neighborhood in New York. Sasha tried to look out of the window to take in her surroundings, but Blue turned toward Sasha and grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Looks like you got a lot to say, but right now, yo’ mouth gon’ get you in a lotta trouble. Now, you called me. That means that I talk and you shut the fuck up. I ain’t got no problem giving you anything you want, but I ain’t got no problem with knocking you on yo’ ass, either.” Blue moved his face within inches of Sasha’s. “It’s your choice.”

  With that, he released Sasha and exited the car. Sasha fought back the tears that formed as she rubbed her chin. She knew what he said was right. She had no employable job skills and she knew this. The only thing she knew was being wifey; and with Red still in Blue’s mind, she wondered if she would ever get that title.

  Sasha was used to living off niggas and made a living doing so. It’s gonna be some shit when Red finds out I’m with this nig
ga, she thought. I should have got rid of her when I had a chance. Her conscience spoke back to her. That’s not you, Sasha. Tell that nigga Catfish to do it himself. Then she thought, I need to do something, because when Catfish realizes I’m gone and Red is still alive, it’s gonna be hell to pay. Sasha knew she was doomed. She had nothing, and with nothing, she knew she was shit. She made her decision. She got out of the car and obediently followed Blue.

  CHAPTER 7

  Every day that passed increased the tension between Red and Q. During the first few days, he went sightseeing, shopping and to a local club alone. He came back late in the night to avoid Red. The rest of the week, he was gone before she woke up. He didn’t want to be around her. Not only was he still mad at her, he just couldn’t trust his little head to be rational.

  Red was appreciative of the downtime because it gave her body a chance to heal but most of all, it gave her the opportunity to read Bitch Nigga, Snitch Nigga without being questioned by Q.

  When she saw it at the airport, she’d acted like she was browsing through the magazines, but instead, she lifted a copy of it.

  Red now understood what the hype about the book was all about and it gave her enough ammunition to get Bacon back for what he did to her.

  The beginning of their second week, Q opened the door to Red’s room, carrying a tray of sliced mango, pineapple and other exotic fruits along with fresh squeezed orange juice and whole grain toast. Red stirred when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said softly.

  Red glared up at him, then threw her head up in the air and turned her back to him.

  The attitude he was greeted with let him know she was still upset that he turned down her sexual advances, but she’d get over it, he thought. In spite of her cold shoulder, Q set the tray down in front of her, sat on the edge of the bed and turned her to face him. He hand-fed her a piece of fresh mango.

  At first Red refused to open her mouth, but Q persisted. “C’mon, Red. You know how you love mango.”

  In spite of her pride, Red finally gave in and opened her mouth. The mango was scrumptious—a richer taste than the ones she’d eaten in the States.

  “What are you doing up so early?” Red glanced over toward the clock. It was six in the morning. She chewed and swallowed the ripe piece of fruit as she waited for Q’s response.

  “Let’s go sightseeing,” Q suggested eagerly. “I bought you some clothes.” He got up and retrieved a bag he’d left at the door. Red sat up in the bed and watched as he pulled out several swimsuits, shorts, halters, sundresses and sandals out of the bag and placed them on the bed. “I was thinking we could go snorkeling and horseback riding and take a tour to—”

  Red put up her hand. “Stop!” she said forcefully, causing Q to step back. “First, you act like you want to be with me, then the next you don’t. You reject my advances, now you’re acting like nothing has ever happened.” She glanced at the sun that was now in full view over the horizon and looked back at Q.

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d even go with how you’ve been treating me, but look at me,” she said, pointing to her face, “my face is fucked up. I can’t go out looking like this.”

  Q understood what she was saying and she was right. Her face was still disfigured so he didn’t press the issue any further. He walked over to Red, kissed her on the forehead and left. Red watched as Q closed the door behind him and a lump formed in her throat as she got out of bed and walked to the large glass patio door.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, sliding the door to the right and sauntered out onto the patio. Red gazed toward the semi-calm waters and tried to count the various shades of indigo. Looking at the white sand, she noticed how untouched it looked, as if nobody had ever set foot on it.

  The palm trees held hammocks for rest and relaxation. Looking up at the clear sky, which was sprinkled with light white clouds like soft cotton, she saw seagulls fly and land on the water, flapping their large wings, making sounds that only seagulls knew. Red realized if she weren’t in paradise, this was the next closest thing. With tears forming in her eyes, she went back inside and instantly became angry: as she walked past the full-length mirror on her way to the bathroom, an ugly image caught her attention. The black-and-blue marks were still there and the splint was beginning to get dirty from the constant wear. “I hate you, Bacon! I hate you!”

  CHAPTER 8

  While Red fumed in the bathroom Q took a walk on the beach. Walking and enjoying the sand under his feet, he asked himself, “Why can’t I get her outta my system?”

  He continued to hike along the beach. The warm waters washed ashore, covering his feet, then retracting. He was so consumed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear his cell phone ring. The caller was persistent and called again. Q snapped out of his thoughts and answered it without looking at the caller ID. “Yo, wha’sup?” he said smoothly into the phone.

  “Nigga, where yo’ ass at? I’m hearin’ shit that you got shot at, then I get a fat-ass check delivered at the crib from you and you ain’t been answerin’ yo’ phone. Tell a nigga something,” Zeke demanded.

  “It’s a long story, but everything is cool.”

  “Nah, nigga, who I gotta stop out here?” Zeke said seriously. “I can round up the old crew and handle business.”

  Q thought about it for a minute. He needed to get a location on Bacon.

  “You heard of that nigga, Bacon?”

  “Bacon? You mean that nigga that bitch Red used to fuck wit’?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out, man. He been gone a minute.”

  “Well, he out.”

  “What?” Zeke said, shocked. “I ain’t know his ass was home. I’ll see what I can find out though.”

  Q became silent while he put his hand on his back pocket. He retrieved his wallet, looked inside and thumbed through his cash. “Hey, can you Western Union me about ten grand?”

  “Ten grand?” Zeke raised his voice in disbelief. “What the fuck you need ten grand for?”

  “I’m running low on funds. Red—”

  “Red?” Zeke yelled into the phone. “She’s with you?”

  “Man, don’t start. Like I said, it’s a long story and I’ll tell you about it when I get back.” Q didn’t want to hear what Zeke had to say. Then he remembered why Zeke was so bent on Red. “I know she fucked you over, but don’t worry, man, Red will repay you.”

  An uncomfortable silence consumed the cellular airwaves until Zeke finally spoke up. “You’ll have it within the hour.” He ended the call before Q could say anything else.

  “Yeah, she’ll repay me,” Zeke repeated as he drove to Western Union, “one way or another.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Come here, baby,” Mekel said, flashing his sexy smile as he lay naked across their king-size bed.

  Terry crawled into bed at his command. Mekel was met with soft warm kisses on his toes and her tongue traveled upward to the tool she longed for. Expertly, just as he had always liked it, she took him in and bathed his erection in warm saliva. They locked eyes as she served him. Mekel’s dick seemed to take on a new life as he watched her take all of his length and width. When she thought he couldn’t get any harder, he surprised her with even more girth. Mekel threw his head back and grabbed the back of her head with his left hand as he began to feel the tingling sensation inside his balls. He tried mightily to suppress the nut he wanted to release. It just wasn’t time yet. He looked at her as she slowed down her pace and removed her mouth.

  Their energy spoke volumes as she removed the towel from around her body and straddled him. Mekel suckled as hungrily as a newborn baby at her breasts while her hands explored his muscular chest and sculpted arms. She eased down on his shaft and they began to rock in rhythm of the motion that only they knew. She knew how to work her pussy to the fullest to pull out everything he had to offer. As they both were nearing an explosive climax, Mekel leaned forwar
d forcing her back on the bed. His left arm automatically brought up her right leg as he could no longer control himself.

  “You feel dat dick, baby?” he grunted with each down stroke.

  “Yeah, Daddy, I feel that shit. Ooh . . . ooh . . . It feels . . . soo . . .” she screamed in rhythm to his thrusts.

  “You ready for this . . . you ready for this?” His thrusts became more forceful and he was unable to hold back.

  After what seemed like a series of never-ending orgasms, he collapsed on top of her.

  He felt a nudge on his shoulder. “Mekel, you all right?” She nudged him again. “Mekel.”

  Mekel woke from his sleep and saw Kera looking back at him as she clutched her Bible. “Huh?”

  “You’ve been tossing and turning for a while. Are you okay?”

  Mekel was out of breath and his face dripped with sweat. The memory of the dream began to subside. Mekel felt wetness upon the sheet and began to fidget his legs to hide the evidence of his wet dream. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry if I woke you.” He yawned.

  A wail came through the baby monitor loud and clear. “I’ll go get him,” Kera told Mekel. She got up out of the bed and walked toward the nursery.

  Man, Mekel said to himself, what the hell? He hurriedly changed his boxers then trotted down the hallway toward the nursery in an attempt to clear his memory.

  Almost two weeks had gone since Terry tried to kidnap their newborn son, and Kera was trying her best to settle into her new role as a mother and a girlfriend. Ever since the incident, she went to church every chance she could and prayed daily for the health of their son.

  Out of guilt, Mekel took over the diaper change once he got to the nursery. Kera stood next to him watching her two men.