The Sweetest Taboo

by Risqué

  “Yeah, we gon’ go after you get yo’ shit,” Britt said, never taking his eyes off Jeff. “You ain’t got to be afraid of nofuckin’-body.”

  Security escorted Yuri and Drae into the apartment. Yuri pulled out her Marc Cross luggage and took all the clothing, shoes, jewelry and purses she could; and what she left, she would have to do without. She picked up the keys to her Touareg and walked back out the apartment door.

  Yuri watched the police read Jeff his Miranda rights as they arrested him. She had never seen so much hurt in Jeff’s face. She could tell he wanted to cry and scream at her: Why? Why all of this? Was what he did with the white bitch this bad? Did she hate his son this much? And, yeah, he’d beat her ass, but look at what she did. Before this he never put his hands on her, all of his punches flew out his mouth.

  She never wanted to see Jeff in this predicament. She simply wanted to one day get the courage to walk out. No hard feelings. No unsettling good-bye, just some yesterdays lost behind them. But this? This had gone too far. He didn’t deserve to be going to jail, he didn’t deserve those handcuffs squeezing his wrist, he didn’t deserve any of this. Nevertheless, here she stood with Britt making the shit worse.

  “You have to come to the precinct by the morning,” one of the officers said, “and officially press charges.”

  Yuri stared at the officer, already knowing that he wouldn’t be seeing her again. She just wanted this day to end. It was apparent that the fairy-tale ending of her marriage wasn’t going to happen, so she needed to simply say good-bye by turning her back and walking away.

  Drae looked at Yuri and shook her head. She had fresh bruises on the side of her face from being slammed into the wall. Yuri knew that Drae wanted to spit out “I told you so,” but for whatever reason she didn’t.

  Yuri looked at Britt and then she looked at Jeff, who had tears pouring down his face.

  “Look,” Britt said, “you know I’m not one for speeches. So if you got some kinda special way you wanna say good-bye to this motherfucker, hurry up and do it, so I can get the fuck outta here.”

  “I don’t have nothing I wanna say.” Yuri swallowed. “I’m good.” She turned to Drae. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, but thank you for being there for me.”

  “Yuri,” Drae spat, “save it. ’Cause I don’t even wanna hear it.”

  Drae

  Drae couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She had to be dreaming. Hassan sat on the edge of the bed with a glass dick stuck between his lips and a butane lighter burning underneath it. He opened his mouth and clouds of smoke floated out.

  “Have you…lost every bit of your fuckin’ mind?” Drae snapped as she stood at the door, ready for work. She was dressed in a red-and-white mud-cloth wrap skirt, a sleeveless white tee, a denim midriff jacket, and canvas Coach espadrilles. This was the last week of school and she was helping some of the students get their working papers for summer jobs. “You strung the fuck out?!”

  “Strung out, strung the fuck out on what, Drae?”

  “On the glass dick in your mouth!” she snapped.

  “I’m not strung out, maybe I just like dicks in my mouth.”

  “I’m not even gon’ fuckin’ address that.”

  Hassan took one last pull from his pipe and then looked at the black burn mark underneath. “Where the fuck you been, Drae?” Hassan spoke in a raspy voice, his eyes half closed. “You know how much money I done missed messing with yo’ ass?”

  He stood up, placed the pipe and lighter in a black velvet bag and tucked it in his dresser drawer. “I have had auditions lined up all week, and I know you been getting my fuckin’ messages. But word is, you done filled my position and now you playin’ Captain Save a Ho. Gettin’ stand-up niggahs locked up and shit. Is that what you do in yo’ spare time, Drae? Play GI Jane, bust up in niggahs’ houses and shit, playing Batman and fuckin’ Robin? I wish y’all two bitches would try that shit up in here, and I would take and whale on yo’ asses!”

  “I didn’t know fiends had that much energy! I can’t believe that you a fuckin’ fiend.” She shook her head in disgust. “Where the fuck do I get off at? When does this shit end?” Drae looked at him as if he had the answers. “You just a twisted-ass niggah! I have got to get away from you.”

  “And how long you think you gon’ live, when you leave? You think I’ma let you go, fuck another niggah and fuck my money. Then maybe I need to ask you what the fuck you smokin’? If you want some extra dick, then tell Naz he welcome over here. Let me see him fuck you again. Otherwise, if I see you with that niggah again, I’ma kill you.”

  “Naz? What are you talking about, who is that?”

  “Girl, I will bust you in yo’ fuckin’ mouth if you try to tell an unnecessary lie—just know I’ve seen the shit. A’ight? Anyway,” he snorted, while scratching the side of his neck, “it’s some niggahs downstairs with hard dicks you need to see.”

  “What?”

  He could tell she was caught off guard. “What the fuck you surprised for? You got work to make up.”

  “What?”

  “Audition: Take Two, bitch.”

  “What?”

  “Say ‘what’ again and I swear I’ll bust you in yo’ fuckin’ lips. Now say I won’t. Say it….” When she didn’t respond he said, “I didn’t think so.”

  “Whatever, Hassan.” She grabbed her purse and oversized bag for work. “I told you this ho’s retired; find another bitch to pimp.”

  “I married the bitch I was gon’ pimp. As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, I lined up a threesome audition. You need to drink a lotta water, ’cause I want you to pee on one them niggahs. Now, Captain Save a Ho, get out there and handle your business.”

  “Aye, aye! Captain Save a Ho will be right there!” She saluted him as she walked out her bedroom door. “You keep right on waiting.”

  He ran up behind her and hooked her neck in the crook of his arm. “What the fuck did I say you was gon’ do bitch?!”

  “Get…offa…me!” she gagged.

  “Not until you suck them dicks and get fucked in the ass! You not gon’ fuck up my money. You wanna spend the shit, but you don’t wanna get down for it? Oh, you gon’ do what the hell I say.”

  “Hassan!” a high-pitched feminine voice yelled. They could hear her feet pounding up the stairs. “What is taking so long?” She stood at the door and her eyes locked with Drae’s. It was the same woman from Fantasy Island.

  “Is this a dream?” Drae asked as Hassan let her go. “You brought this bitch to my house? Are you serious?”

  “Did I give you permission to come up these stairs?” Hassan barked at the girl. “What the fuck is on your mind? Didn’t I tell you I had some business to take care of?”

  “You that goddamn disrespectful”—Drae was in absolute disbelief—“you bringing bitches home? You really strung the fuck out!”

  “You can slow up with the bitches, homegirl.” The girl looked at Drae as if to say “now what.” “My name is Crystal and I work for him, and I damn sure wasn’t here for you. Matter fact, I didn’t even know you were here, you ain’t been here.”

  “You been in my house before? On an ordinary day I would’ve kicked yo’ fuckin’ ass,” Drae snorted at the girl. “But since today is a certified nightmare I’ma let you live and suck the Satan’s dick.” She pushed Hassan away. “’Cause I’m done with this bullshit. It’s over, Hassan. I swear to God I’m done.” And she walked out the door. When she got down the stairs and into the living room, she saw the two men Hassan had waiting for her staring at each other and playing with their dicks.

  A half hour later Drae was at work. She signed in and walked into her office. Doing her best to push her morning out of her mind, she closed her office door, opened her file cabinet drawer and popped four Motrin in her mouth. She had a migraine that felt like a hammer and chisel had invaded her skull. She was determined not to go back to Hassan, that today was it for their marriage. She would go home, get her b
elongings and leave.

  She sat down at her desk and cut her computer on.

  “Mrs. Shaw,” the secretary called as she knocked on the door.

  “Come in, Dotty.”

  “Mr. Shaw is here.” Dotty had an extra-wide grin on her face.

  Hassan stepped through the door with a long white box with a red bow around it. “Happy anniversary,” he said grandly.

  Dotty blushed and closed the door behind her.

  Hassan turned the lock on the knob and then turned back to Drae. “Getcha shit!” He opened the box, which was filled with two garbage bags. “This is it for this motherfuckin’ job! I’m sick of this! You staying home from now on! You got other shit to do!” With one sweep he took everything off her desk and knocked it into a garbage bag, her pictures frames and ceramic flowerpots breaking as they hit the bottom of the bag against the tile floor.

  “What are you doing?!” She grabbed his forearm. She tried to control herself—after all, she was at work and didn’t want to lose her job—but she was two seconds from smacking the shit out of him.

  “Get the fuck offa me.” He snatched his arm away. “And get some fire under ya ass! I said let’s go.” He walked around her office, taking the artwork off the walls and shoving it into the bag. The sound of the glass breaking hurt her ears.

  “Hassan, please stop,” she begged softly. “You’re embarrassing the shit outta me.”

  “You gon’ be even more embarrassed when I drag yo’ ass outta here!”

  When she saw him headed for the file cabinet that contained the students’ records she ran in front of him, stretched her arms out and blocked his path. “What the fuck is in here, Drae, that you don’t want me to see?!”

  “It’s not mine,” she cried. “It’s the students’. Their school records.”

  “You’re lying, Drae!” He pushed her out of the way and started tossing the records all over the room.

  There was a knock on the door. “Mrs. Shaw, are you okay?” The principal twisted the locked knob. “Mrs. Shaw, open this door, please.”

  “Principal Cox, it’s okay. I knocked some things down by accident.”

  “Principal Cox?” Hassan frowned. “Nastiness just follows you everywhere you go, don’t it? Why don’t you tell Principal Dicks the truth.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” the principal asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Drae mustered a laugh. “I’m fine. Hassan,” she said diplomatically, sounding as calm as possible, “please, don’t do this here…please.”

  “Sounding like a white girl ain’t gon’ cut it, Drae. You fuckin’ with my money and you think I’m gon’ let you stay here? I said get yo’ shit, bitch! And let’s go!”

  Drae didn’t move.

  “Oh, a’ight.” Hassan grabbed Drae by her arm and opened her office door. “I said you leaving!”

  “Hassan, please,” she begged as he yanked her backward out of the room. There was a group of students passing by her as she was coming out of the office.

  As one of the male students stopped to talk to her, Hassan loosened his grip. “You a’ight, Mrs. Shaw?”

  “Yes, Derrick.” Drae’s heart was pounding as she looked toward the back door. “I’m fine!” She snatched away from Hassan and took off running. Immediately, Hassan fled behind her and some of the students in the group tackled him from the back, while others ran to the office, watched Drae run or screamed.

  “Hurry, Mrs. Shaw, leave!” some of the kids yelled.

  As Drae ran toward the back door she was halted by security. “What’s wrong?”

  Drae wanted nothing more than to disappear. She heard the crowd growing behind her. She turned around and the entire first floor of the school was in an uproar. Security was everywhere, the children involved in the fight were bloody and their clothes were tattered from tackling Hassan. Within seconds Drae heard police sirens blaring. For a moment she thought she was dreaming, so she pinched herself and begged God to wake her up.

  “Mrs. Shaw”—the principal rushed toward her—“what has happened here?!”

  “I’m so sorry,” she cried as the principal looked at her, filled with disgust.

  “This is completely unacceptable! You have placed our children in danger, and just how do you think we will be able to explain to their parents that they were injured because they were protecting you?!”

  The police were standing at the other end of the hall, talking to Hassan. “Officer,” he spoke calmly, “I was surprising my wife for our anniversary and it scared her, that’s all. I was simply defending myself when the children attacked me; I think this is just one big misunderstanding. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

  “You still have to come with us,” one of the officers said. “The school may want to press charges.”

  “I’ll go, Officer, let’s just not make this any more of a scene than it has to be.”

  Drae couldn’t believe it. Was this the same man who was freebasin’ this morning, trying to make her fuck strangers again and then practically dragging her out of her office making her leave with him, now acting diplomatic, like he had sense, when he was really crazy as shit? All she could do was cry as she looked at Hassan, wondering why. Why would he do this? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

  “Mrs. Shaw,” the principal said, “I need to see you in my office.”

  As she walked past Hassan she wanted to slap the smug look off his face. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted, now she had no choice but to leave.

  “You don’t have to fire me,” she said, when she stepped into the principal’s office. “I’ll resign.”

  “We weren’t going to fire you…yet,” the principal stressed. “You’ll be suspended with pay until we have an administrative hearing to determine your career’s future.”

  “I understand,” Drae conceded. She stood up to leave.

  “And let me give you some advice,” she said as Drae approached the door. “I know a battered sister when I see one, ’cause I was one myself. Get out while you can.”

  Drae walked out of the building feeling like a zombie. She hated the day she met Hassan, hated all the time she got on her knees at night and prayed to God to let him be the one. Hated that she set her sights on his being her husband before knowing what it would take to be his wife. She hated always looking for security in no-good men. She hated this shit, all of it, and if she wasn’t so weak and could stand the pain of dying she would slit her wrists, step to death and dare the niggah to show up.

  Not knowing where else to go, Drae parked in front of Britt’s loft building to see Yuri.

  “Wassup, Britt?” she said as she stood at Britt’s loft door. “Is Yuri here?”

  “She stepped out for a minute, but she’ll be right back.”

  “You mind if I wait?”

  “Naw,” he hesitated, “not at all.”

  Drae came in and looked around; she started to sit on the sofa, but changed her mind. Instead she stood by one of the large windows and looked onto the street.

  “Yo,” Britt said, “I’m getting ready to go, but let me say something to you real quick.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Understand this: You may not like me, but stay out my business.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. You running back and telling Yuri shit about me and Troi, filling her head with a buncha shit that I don’t appreciate. I don’t know what Troi been telling you, but ain’t nothing going on. Period. So stay in your fuckin’ lane.”

  Drae stood there amazed, she hadn’t thought about Troi since they last saw her at Queen of Sheba. She made a mental note to cuss Yuri out for involving her in some pillow-talk lies she was obviously telling. “After the fucking morning I’ve had, you just the excuse I need to go off! Me and you both know we been here before, Britt. Yuri may not know, but I know that you left her the last time to get back with Troi. So I know you ain’t shit! You didn’t impress me by sho
wing up and saving her from Jeff like you Zorro and shit. Yuri is my blood, my cousin, and I’ll be damned if I’ma let you or anybody else fuck her over. Now, if you are fuckin’ the two of them, then I advise you to leave Yuri the fuck alone and let her get on with her life. Otherwise man-up, niggah, and handle your fuckin’ business ’cause the next time she gets pregnant there may not be a miscarriage. And if I ever hear that you not owning up to your responsibility, then I’ma kick yo’ fuckin’ ass my goddamn self. Now get the fuck out my face!”

  “What the hell is going on here?!” Yuri was in complete shock when she walked in the door. She was carrying two bags of groceries from the local bodega. Britt took them out of her hands and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s nothing, baby, your cousin just being her wonderful self. Look, I’ma head to the studio. I need to meet with my manager, the record company wants to talk about giving me my own label imprint.” He took the groceries, set them on the kitchen island and left.

  “What the hell was that about?” Yuri asked Drae as she started putting the groceries away.

  “Nothing. And why the fuck you lying on me? If you tryna catch that sorry motherfucker in something, leave my name out of it!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Drae started hollering and screaming, “You know what I’m talking about!”

  Yuri could hear the tears in Drae’s voice. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Drae held her head down and began to sob uncontrollably.

  “Oh my God, Drae, sweetie, what? What’s wrong?” She ran around the counter to Drae. Yuri’s heart was racing. “I’m sorry I lied. I just wanted to see if he would admit that it was Troi who keeps calling here and hanging up. Please tell me what’s wrong.” Drae shook her head no.

  “Please tell me. Is it me?”

  Drae continued to sob and shake her head no.

  “Sweetie, please tell me.”

  Drae held her head up and wiped her eyes. “You know how, when we were younger, you always said you felt like you settled for men because you felt like no one would ever really like you…the way you were?”