“Tired from basketball practice yesterday.”
“Well, you know that comes with the territory.”
“Ma, can I spend the night over at Laurie’s house?”
“Hmm. . . . Who’s going to be there?”
“No, Ma, no boys will be there, and, yes, I will give you her mother’s number so you can call and check up on me like I’m four,” she joked.
“Well, see, you already know the process. Once you get older, you will wish that I checked up on you, missy.”
“Bye, Ma, see you later.”
“Bye, baby. Love you.” She was already gone through the door.
I walked over to the door and made sure it was locked. Then I went upstairs to my bedroom. I was eager but nervous to see what was recorded. I turned my TV down so I would be aware if someone entered the house. Then I sat on the carpet and turned it on.... Tears fell like a waterfall as I watched my husband’s real-life movie. It seemed surreal, but it was Hassan in the flesh, fucking and sucking on his whore. As if that weren’t bad enough, this sorry-ass nigga I married had the nerve to be talking shit about me. As I listened to his words, they pierced through my soul. I could only imagine what he said behind my back, but hearing it was more hurtful and cold.
I watched as his whore looked into the camcorder, smiling as if she were happy that I would see my husband pounding her. He was such a fucking liar. I remember him telling me he never ate no pussy other than mine. Really? That nigga’s head was buried between her legs. I was angry and pissed the fuck off. The tears just kept coming. I wanted to take a break but decided not to. I needed to finish it. I had no time to waste if I wanted to get this bastard out of my life for good. I thought all that was bad, but to see him beating her ass made me cringe.
There was a long pause. I thought it was the end of the recordings.... That was... until I heard Hassan’s voice talking. His whore was riding his cock, and he was talking. I’d had enough, I thought—until I heard a conversation about murder.
Murder! Did I hear right? My lawyer husband was on tape confessing to getting somebody named Corey murdered. I rewound the tape and listened again. This fool was lying there getting fucked and placing himself in a murder case. I quickly cut off the tape and leaned against the bed. Just when I thought shit couldn’t get any worse—it just got worse.
Hassan Clarke
I had to get money out of my account to give that nigga Big Dre. I thought about not giving that punk-ass nigga a dime, but I was terrified he might run his mouth if he got caught. I decided to meet him at the corner of the A&B West Indian Grocery on Westchester Avenue. I tried to be careful because I didn’t know if the police were already involved, and if this was a setup. I parked and walked over to the vehicle, where he told me he’d be waiting. I hated that I was sitting so close to this snake-ass nigga.
“Yo, you got my money?” this slime-ball nigga asked.
“Yea, it’s right here. Yo, how do I know this the last time you’ll come at me about some paper?”
“Nigga, I told you, shit is hot as hell right now. I need to get away. Ain’t nobody worried about coming back at you ’bout no money.”
“I ’ont believe shit you say. First, you ain’t want no money, but here you are, shaking me down now.”
“Yo, nigga, watch yo’ motherfucking mouth, yo.” He pointed a gun at me. “Now, give me the money and get the fuck outta my shit.”
I hesitated, but then I peeped the desperation in his eyes. Those eyes were glossy and bloodshot. I knew he was a cold-blooded killer, and I didn’t want to take any chances.
I threw the bag at him. “Nigga, fuck you. Lose my fucking number, or the next time we meet, I’ma show you how a real nigga gets down.” I opened the truck door and jumped out. The nigga pulled off before I even closed his door.
“Fucking fool,” I said out loud.
I sped to my car, looking around to see if any police cars were approaching me. The coast was clear, so I jumped into my car and burned rubber through the neighborhood. I swear, I hoped that was the last time that I’d ever have to cross paths with that nigga. I should’ve brought my own gun with me. I got it after Destiny’s bitch-ass nigga threatened me. I needed to start carrying it around ’cause I was tired of niggas thinking I was a pussy.
* * *
I had a call from my divorce lawyer. I didn’t like any of what dude was saying. This bitch Destiny was all up in my business, so she was asking for half of everything I made since the marriage. What the fuck? That’s half of my shit. What possessed that bitch to think she was going to get half? I fucking busted my ass e’ery damn day to make sure I got where I am today. I really thought my money was fucking safe overseas, but this bitch got wind of that also. I swear to God, I wanted to take that gun I got and blow that bitch’s head off. I punched the wall in my office, bruising my hand. I was going to teach that bitch a lesson—one that she would never forget.
My world was tumbling down. It didn’t work out too well the other day with Imani, but I knew I had to humble myself and try again. My freedom depended on her dropping the charges. I took out the cell phone and scrolled to her name. Her phone rang until the voicemail came on. I hung up and decided to hit redial. Again, there was no answer, so I hung up and sent her a text.
Hey, babe, it’s me. I’m sorry for everything I did to you. I really love you and hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I want to be the man for you. Please, just let me show you. Love you, Hassan.
I knew it was only a matter of time before she’d call me back. Imani was so predictable. No matter what I did to her, she would get mad and turn right back around and forgive me. We’ve been doing this so long that I could tell her pattern. This time was different for me, though. I was officially done with the bitch. There was no way I would ever fuck with a bitch that got me locked up. I was going to get her to drop the charges, and then I was going to break the news to her ass. I never wanted to see her or that little bastard—ever again.
Chapter Eleven
Destiny Clarke
Amaiya was in school, so I stopped by Mama’s house. I had so much on my mind the last few days. I kept seeing Imani’s dead body in my dreams. I tried to get it out of my head, but I just couldn’t. I was happy the bitch was out of the picture because there was no way I was going to give that whore my husband or my money.
I just needed to see Mama’s face. I had no idea how things were going to turn out for me, and I needed to let her know that no matter what happened, I was still her daughter. I wasn’t a monster. I’m just a woman that loved the wrong fool and made a bad decision because I was fed up. I wanted to break down and tell Mama what I had done, but how could I? There was no way because if anything happened, I needed her to take care of my only child.
“Baby, something is worrying you. I can tell by the look on your face,” she said as we sat outside on her steps, taking in the warm breeze.
“Mama, there is so much turmoil in my life. I just want it all to end, you know? I want my old life back. I miss the days when I laughed and had no worries in the world.”
She put her hand on top of my knee. “Baby girl, you started the process, now give it a little time. It’ll be over soon. God don’t put on us more than we can bear. It’s a test to see how strong you really are, and you’re proving that you’re built for the storm. Hold on a little while longer. That bastard will be gone out of your life for good, and you can be happy once again,” she said as she rubbed my knee.
I tried not to cry, but it was too late. Tears started pouring down. I leaned my head on my mama’s chest and let it all out.
“Baby, it’s goin’ be all right. I promise you, and you know yo’ mama ain’t goin’ lie to you. Let it all out. Then get on your knees and give it to God. After that, you get up and push harder, you hear me? Push with all your might.”
I sure wish I had the faith Mama had. She spoke with such conviction. A strong black woman she was.
“You know, Mama, I love you.
You have always had my back since the first day I came into your life. Woman, thank you for being my strength through some of my darkest days.”
“Hmmm, I guess we helped each other through some rough times. There were times when I felt like I couldn’t go on, but I looked at you and knew right then that I had to go on because you needed me. You was the best thing that ever happened to me and still are, you and Amaiya.”
Listening to those words gave me an instant rush of strength. She had no idea how she had helped me. I wiped my eyes with my shirt and squeezed her hand. No words were needed because we both understood.
“Well, Mama, I got to go. Amaiya will be home soon.”
“Destiny, please be careful. Ever since you told me that bastard has a gun in the house, I worry every day for your safety.”
“Love you, Mama.” I smiled at her and walked away.
I got into my car and drove off as I cut the music up.
“I must admit I was set trippin’, early on
So not myself, boy you had me completely gone
I lost my cool when I found out ’bout you . . .”
Ashanti’s voice blared through my speaker. I sang right along with her because I was feeling every word that came out of her mouth.
I sang this song all the way to the house. I made sure that the words sank into my head. I was done, and I was ready to move on. I was ready to let Spencer know how I really felt about him. For the first time in years, I felt like I had control of my life.
I parked the car and walked toward the door when I saw the mailman pull up, so I turned back to retrieve the mail.
“Hello, there, Mrs. Clarke. How you doing today?”
“I’m well, and how are you?”
“Can’t complain. I’m alive and kicking,” the elderly gentleman said. “I need you to sign for this one.”
“Oh, OK.” I took the pen from him and signed the certified mail slip. Then I took my mail from him. “Thank you. Have a great day.”
“Thank you, ma’am, and same to you.”
I noticed there was a big manila envelope with my name on it. I immediately noticed it was from the Family Courts. My heart sank as I ripped open the envelope. It was a subpoena from the Family Courts. Hassan filed for full custody of Amaiya. I opened the door and walked into the house. I knew the bastard was there because his car was parked on the side.
I ran up the stairs and banged hard on his room door.
“Open this fucking door, you bastard. You think you’re going to get my only fucking child?” I yelled.
“Oh, I see you got your mail. To be honest, bitch, I don’t want custody of her fast little ass, but since you’re going after my money and my company, I’ve decided to go after the one thing you treasure. How does it feel? It don’t feel too good, does it?” He laughed in my face.
Without thinking, I stepped closer to him and spat in his face.
“Bitch, take a foot closer, and I will blow your fucking brains out all over this floor.” He pointed his gun at my head.
“You’re a fucking coward, Hassan. A fucking coward, you hear me? You will not get my child—I promise you that.”
“We’ll see. When I’m done with you, the courts will see how unfit you are. I’ll prove to them that you are one unstable bitch. Now get the fuck of my face before I end your life, you worthless piece of shit. I told you not to fuck with me.”
I looked at him, hiding behind that gun. Without the gun, he was a coward, and he knew it.
“You gonna get yours. I promise you that, Hassan Clarke.” I winked at him and ran back down the stairs.
* * *
I hurried down the driveway and got into my car. I tried with all my might not to cry. I put the car in reverse, turned around, and drove down the street. I looked around for a phone booth. I needed to make a very important call. I finally found an old, dirty one, but I didn’t care. I used a piece of napkin to hold it and dialed 911.
“This is the 911 operator. How may I help you?”
“Yes, I think sump’n bad happened to a lady ova at 2981 Barnes Avenue, Apt. C. Please send someone to check on har. Hurry, 2981 Barnes Avenue, Apt. C,” I said in my best Jamaican accent that I practiced.
“Ma’am, please, can I get your name?”
I hung up and walked back to my car. By the time I returned home, Hassan was gone. I ran inside and locked the door. Then I grabbed a soda and sat in the living room, glued to the television.
The 11:00 p.m. news finally came on, and just like I figured, the whore made the news. I was kind of disappointed when they reported that the body had begun to decompose, and the police would have to wait on the coroner’s office to determine the cause of death. They needed to hurry their ass up, I swore.
That night I barely slept. I was worried that Hassan might come back and do something crazy to me.
The next day, I dropped Amaiya off at Mama’s house because I didn’t want her around any drama. I could’ve stayed with Spencer, but I was kind of irritable and preferred to be by myself.
“Hey, babe,” Spencer said when I answered the phone in the morning.
“Hey.”
“Destiny, I tried calling you last night, but the phone kept going to voicemail. I almost popped up over there. You a’ight?”
“Sorry, I was tired, and I forgot to charge my phone,” I lied.
“You sure? I mean, if anything is going on, you need to let me know.”
“Spencer, I said I was tired. Now, drop it, please.”
“You got it. A’ight, I’ll be in the office all day. Call me when you feel better.”
“All right.”
I hate that I was taking my frustrations out on him. I needed all of this to go away fast. After I took a shower, I made me a cup of tea. Out of nowhere, I felt the urge to pray. I wasn’t the most righteous female, but Mama taught me to get on my knees when everything else fails. I needed protection right now because I didn’t want to go to prison.
“God, I know that I’ve done some wrong things, but I’m begging you for forgiveness. I promise, dear God, I will never kill another person if you just give me this one chance. I swear, God, I can’t go to prison. I can’t leave my baby girl alone. God, you know, I’ve been through too much already. I just can’t,” I cried.
“Standing ovation.” Hassan’s voice startled me as he clapped his hands.
I quickly jumped up off my knees and turned around to face this sick, deranged bastard standing there, grinning.
“I didn’t know an evil bitch like you had it in you to pray to God. Well, bitch, you goin’ need all your prayers to save you, ’cause you a dead bitch,” he said and punched me in the face.
I stumbled back. I tried my best not to fall, but he stepped forward and punched me in my mouth again. Blood splattered everywhere.... I fell to the ground. Then I quickly curled up in a fetal position. He continued hitting and kicking me all over my body.
“No, stop, Hassan! Please stop,” I cried out, pleading for my life. I knew he was going to kill me.
“You stupid bitch. I told you to leave shit alone, but, nah, you couldn’t. Now you got to pay,” he screamed as he continued kicking me.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
“What the fuck is that?” I heard him ask.
I was feeling dizzy and felt like my bones were broken from his severe beating.
“What the fuck the police doing here? You called the police on me, bitch? I’m not going back to jail,” he yelled as he pointed his gun at my head.
I heard a bunch of commotion and people running up the stairs....
“Police! Don’t move! Put the weapon down and put your hands where I can see them,” a voice hollered.
I barely opened my eyes. I saw it was the police—lots of them with guns drawn.
“Are you OK, ma’am?” a female officer asked.
I tried to talk, but I couldn’t get the words out. Blood was spewing out of my mouth.
“Call an ambulance,” was the last thing I heard.
Hassan Clarke
I was sick and tired of all the shit Destiny was doing to me. I had been good to that bitch regardless of what the fuck she told her stupid-ass mama. I kind of fell back and let her do her thing. She even disrespected me by bringing that fuck nigga into our home. The last straw was when this bitch lawyer demanded half of my fucking money. Over my dead body was I goin’ give that ho a dime of what I busted my ass for. Shit, if you asked me, that ho should pay me for fucking that dry-ass pussy and putting up with her fucking bitching all these years.
Shit took a turn for the worse at the office. For two weeks, not one client came into the office. At first, I blew it off as nothing. Finally, I got up from my desk and walked into the receptionist area.
“Shari, this is strange. I haven’t had any appointments in over a week. Are you sure the phones are working properly?”
“Yes, sir. They’re working just fine. I don’t know what’s going on with that. It seems like that after Mr. Leon left, all the clients followed him. I’m going to put in my two weeks’ notice also.”
“What do you mean, after he left? He’s not here anymore?”
“Uh-uh.... I thought you knew that he left. He cleaned out his office and told me to transfer his calls to his cell phone.”
“Nah, I ain’t know shit. And what you mean you giving notice?” I yelled.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you. I just want to pursue other options.”
I didn’t say shit else to that bitch. I was too fucking pissed. That coward-ass nigga didn’t even have the balls to let me know he was leaving. Fuck him and that bitch. I was Hassan Clarke. I didn’t need no-fucking-body. I was born to stand out.
“Y’all hear me? I’m a fucking star. I don’t need no-fucking-body,” I yelled.
All this shit started because of this bitch, Destiny. My life was fine before I married that bad-luck bitch. First, I lost my son. Then my bitch. Now, I’ve lost my fucking clients. She was going to pay for all this shit—I swear she is. I grabbed my briefcase, locked the door behind me, and walked out of the office. I was going home to kill that bitch right now.
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