Love & War
Page 9
“What the hell happened to you?” her sister Tisa asked as Parker walked into the room that they shared. Tisa stood applying makeup to her already pretty face. That was one thing about the Banks sisters. They were all equally gorgeous. They came in all shapes, all sizes, all complexions, but the genes that constructed them were the same. They shared the same button nose, the same chestnut eyes, and mess of curly ringlets they called hair. Their hips, their breasts, their lips, were all cut from the same cloth physically, but mentally they were miles away. Parker just couldn’t get with the mindset of “closed legs don’t get fed.” That was for brainless females. Parker wanted to be so much more.
She was visibly shaken as she peeled herself out of her bloodstained clothes.
“Nothing,” she whispered.
Tisa stopped what she was doing and turned toward Parker. “Parker?”
Parker shook her head and got on her knees as she grabbed her personal items from under her bed. Living there she had to hide all of her stuff so that no one else used them. It was survival of the fittest. She didn’t even keep her bath towel in the bathroom for fear that one of the strange men that ran in and out would use it. Cum stains were as common as the roaches on the walls in her home, which was why she often slept in one of the vacant rooms at the hotel.
“I said nothing happened,” Parker snapped.
She wrapped herself in her housecoat and headed to the bathroom. She could hear the sex sounds oozing out of the rooms of her other sisters. Even her mother entertained a different man every night. None of them worked, so they got their money on their backs. They were selling themselves short and exposing Parker, the youngest member of their family, to all kinds of chaos in the process. She went into the bathroom and sighed in relief as she turned on the shower. The small unventilated space quickly fogged as she stepped into the tub basin. She couldn’t believe what had happened that night. Sounds of the gunshots still rang in her ears and as she let the water rinse the dried blood from her body, she cried. Even when she tried to do the right thing, the wrong things always found a way to wreck havoc on her life.
The creak of the door opening caused her to freeze. “Tisa, is that you?” she asked. When she got no response she turned off the water and pulled back the shower curtain. She almost jumped out of her skin when she found, Gutter, her mom’s sometime boyfriend, standing there, gawking at her naked body.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get out!” she screamed.
He advanced on her, stepping into the shower and pressing her against the tiled wall as he groped her breasts.
“Stop! Ma!” Parker screamed as she tried to push him off of her. His 220-pound frame was too much to fight off, however, and he put his fingers in between her legs, penetrating what had never been penetrated before.
“No,” Parker sobbed.
He brought her wetness up to his lips and said, “I’m going to get into this tight little pussy whether you want me too or not, you stuck-up little bitch.”
He pulled away just as her mother and sisters burst through the door.
“What the hell is going on in here?” her mother shouted, while holding a joint in her hand. Her robe was open revealing the cheap lingerie beneath.
“Ain’t nothing happening, baby. I’m just trying to take a piss,” Gutter lied.
“He attacked me!” Parker shouted, distraught.
“Girl, ain’t nobody tried to attack you,” her mother defended.
“He put his hands on me! He touched my—”
“Shut up Parker!” Her mother said.
“I’m out of here. A nigga don’t need this bullshit,” Gutter stated.
Her mother’s face twisted in angst as she turned to Parker. “See what you did!” She chased after him. “Gutter. Baby, don’t leave. She can leave. She don’t pay no bills here.”
Tisa and her other sisters shook their heads and dispersed, unfazed by the drama. They each had been through it with one of their mother’s boyfriends. They were so immune to the concept of saying no that they now allowed anyone to touch them anywhere.
Parker stormed out of the bathroom, tears flowing, temper raging as she quickly slipped into her clothes. She grabbed anything of importance that she could carry. After tonight, she wouldn’t be coming back. This hellhole was worse than anything the real world had to offer. She didn’t care if she had to sleep on subways at night and attend school in the day; she refused to ever close her eyes under her mother’s roof. If the price of rent was pussy, she’d pass. She flung her book bag over her shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Tisa asked.
“Anywhere but here,” Parker shot back. She stormed right passed her mother coddling Gutter’s grimy-ass and out the door. As soon as she stepped outside her building, however, Indie was there, waiting for her, perched on the hood of his car.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Fear was real that night. If she left she was in danger. If she stayed she was in danger.
“Yo, shorty, I’m not here to do nothing to you,” Indie said as he held his hands up.
She was shaking and crying. Her wet hair curled into a mess on top of her head.
“Please don’t. Please, just let me go. I need to get out of here,” she whispered.
Indie frowned because her panic wasn’t just about the robbery. The way she kept looking behind her made him think she was running from something.
“Who you looking for? What you running from?” Indie asked.
She didn’t know why she told him, but she responded, “My mother’s boyfriend, Gutter.”
“Gutter?” Indie asked with a frown. “That nasty-ass old nigga?” Gutter was a known low-level hustler around the way that had a reputation for being a creep. Many young girls had accused him of rape and Indie immediately saw red. “He touch you?” Indie asked.
She nodded and he raced up the stairs, pulling her along with him. “Show me where the nigga at?”
She pulled against him. “Please I can’t go back in there.”
“Gutter!” Indie roared, causing several residents in the apartment building to peek out of the doors.
Gutter emerged from the apartment at the end of the hall. “Fuck is you, li’l nigga?” he asked.
Indie didn’t hesitate. He pulled his pistol off his waistline and put it straight to Gutter’s forehead.
“Whoa, li’l daddy,” Gutter said immediately bitching up. “Whoa, whoa.”
Indie pressed the gun hard against his flesh. “You see that girl right there?” Indie asked pointing to Parker.
Gutter flinched beneath Indie’s wrath, fearing the inevitable bullet that would end his life. “I don’t know what that bitch told you, playboy,” Gutter began.
Indie slapped him with the butt of his gun. Parker’s sisters and mother peeked out of the apartment, but didn’t say a word.
“You fucking lay one finger on her again and I’m going to fucking kill you,” Indie stated. He was so mad that he spit as he spoke. “You got me?”
Gutter nodded. “I got you,” he said as he urinated on himself from fear.
Indie looked down at the pool of liquid that stained Gutter’s pants and he shook his head. “Old ass, perverted mu’fucka.” He stepped back and aimed at Gutter’s hand.
Boom!
He blew all five fingers off without hesitation. “That’s for putting your hands on her, you bitch-ass nigga. Next time I’m putting two in your chest.”
He turned around and led Parker out of the building. “Let’s go, shorty. You’re safe with me,” he promised. Parker’s mouth hung open, astonished, but she didn’t say anything. She simply took his hand and followed him out to his car. He tucked her safely inside and then entered the driver’s seat before skirting off into the night.
Her intuition told her she could trust him but she had no idea that he would be the guy that she would fall in love with. Only fate knew that Indie and Parker’s love story was written in the stars.
“Shorty, open the door.”
I could have sworn I heard his voice, she thought as she looked around the bathroom. What the hell? Am I hearing things? she thought as she breathed a sigh of relief. Her imagination had run so wild. Daydreaming of what used to be had made her feel euphoric, so much so that she was imagining things. She hadn’t heard Indie call her by that nickname since she was a young kid. So much had changed since then. Most for the better, but she had been through the worst in order to get this place of self-sufficiency without him.
Knock! Knock!
A soft tap at the door alarmed her to the point where she drew in a sharp breath.
“Hello?” she called out.
“Open the door, ma, it’s me.”
Parker gasped as she hopped out of the warm bath and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. “One second!” she said. What the hell is he doing here? How did he even get in my room?
She rushed to the vanity mirror and tried to fluff out her wet curls, but her natural state wasn’t to be tamed lightly, especially in the blink of an eye and at the motivation of Indie Perkins. She pulled her hair up in haste, subduing it in a messy, kinky bun. “Fuck it,” she whispered. She quickly dressed in jeans and a tight fitting V-neck T-shirt then opened the bathroom door. She marched out into the living room area of her suite.
“Most people call first,” she said as she walked passed Indie and headed directly to the mini-bar. She grabbed a bottle of water out of it and leaned against the wall as she gave him her full attention. “What did you pay the maid to let you in here?”
“My apologies, P, you can withdraw your claws. I came here to talk,” Indie said. “Things haven’t been too peaceful at home. I couldn’t think clearly so I thought you could help me sort all of this out.”
“I don’t know if I can do that for you, Indie,” she said. “I’ve laid my heart out on the table. You have a situation already. The ball is in your court. You have to choose.”
“It’s not that easy,” Indie said.
“I know,” she admitted. “And I’m sorry. I’m not blind to the fact that I’ve complicated things for you.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” he shot back with the smile that she loved so much. She had forgotten just how beautiful of a man that he was. As he stood before her in all his glory, casually clad in jeans and Timbs, he reminded her so much of the kid she had fallen for years before. So much about him had changed. His status, his bank account, his boyish charm . . . but her infatuation with him had remained. She hated this uncertainty that was in the air. There was an invisible wall of tension, of betrayal, of mistrust, of fear . . . they both felt it and it took up all the space like an elephant in the room.
“I really missed you, Indie. So much,” she said, honestly. She spoke so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear her. As she stared at him she pinched her arms as they crossed over her chest. She needed to feel the hint of pain to tell herself this wasn’t a dream. He was here in front of her. “You don’t know how many times I’ve cried at night because you weren’t next to me.” The ache in her voice was real as she turned away from Indie to stop herself from becoming emotional.
The sight of her alone tugged at Indie’s heart strings. The first love was always the toughest to shake. Indie had no worries about YaYa’s loyalty because he was her first love. Every nigga before him had been looked at as a come-up. Indie on the other hand had an entire love affair with the woman standing before him. She had been out of sight out of mind for so long that he had forgotten how strong of a hold she had been over him. Once upon a time, Parker was all that he had lived for. Seeing her hurting was like a magnet. He felt his feet moving toward her. He knew that he should keep his distance. To get to close to her would be setting himself up to fall in love all over again. He couldn’t betray YaYa that way. Despite what she thought at the moment, he loved her, but he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he loved Parker too. Could it be possible? To love two women at the same time yet for different reasons?
YaYa, his Disaya . . . since walking into his life she had turned it upside down. She was elusive and defiant, but her weaknesses were what endured him to her. He wanted to protect her, be there for her . . . show her how to love and be loved. Her smile was like a masterpiece painted by the hand of Van Gogh and each day with her was exciting. Each day held a different high or low. There was no middle ground with YaYa, no ordinary, no average. She was either everything or nothing at all. It was love or war between them but Indie appreciated every moment with her. Being with her felt like living because both joy and pain reminded him that he was alive.
But Parker . . . Parker Banks was like a summer breeze on scorching day. Everything about her was refreshing. Parker’s beauty was so simple that it was magnificent. In a world full of fake she was as authentic as it came. From her heart to her hair to her soul she was one hundred. Their connection was more than physical. It was mental and those waters ran deep. She was the type of beautiful that was everlasting and after years in the game, encountering her again at this point in his life was like a breath of fresh air. Her depth and perspective was something that he would never find in another woman. She had been this way since they were teenagers and from day one she had captured his heart. He allowed her to hold it in the palm of her hands because he was certain that she wouldn’t break it. With Parker he could be vulnerable. He could let her lead him into legitimacy because no part of her had ever been anything else. She was a good girl, nah . . . that’s inaccurate. She was a great woman. She embodied everything that it meant to be a woman.
Indie wished that he could combine them to make the perfect woman but he wasn’t naïve. He knew that in a world of imperfections, perfection was only a wish.
“What do you want from me, P?” he asked. “What do you want me to do, ma? There is no right or wrong. No matter what decision I make, I’m losing.”
She turned to him. “I’d like you to meet your son,” she whispered. “I know that all you can think of is the life you would be giving up if you chose me, but I need you to see the possibilities that exist my way.”
The thought of a son warmed him and he pulled her closely. He grabbed the back of her neck and she laid her head on his chest. “I’m going to figure this out. I promise you that, Parker. I want to meet my son though. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Me and you . . . me and YaYa . . . I don’t know how any of that will work out, but I do know that no more time will go by without me being in his life.”
She pulled away from him and gave him a weak smile. “King is curious. He wants to know you. He needs to know you.”
“You named him King?” Indie said, shocked.
“It’s what we always said we would name our first son,” she whispered. “And he was made from one so it was only suiting.”
As Indie looked Parker in her eyes their souls melted. The feeling was so familiar because he had been there before. He knew exactly what it felt like to love this woman and he couldn’t deny the fact that the feelings were ever present. He leaned in, unable to contain what he was feeling. He went to kiss her lips. Parker caught his face in between her hands as she halted him.
“There is no back and forth with me, Indie. When you kiss me I want to know that I’m the only one you’re kissing. I want to be your only, not your option, not some side chick. I don’t do that. Any woman with any kind of self-love would never do that. I’m not that girl.”
Indie kissed her cheek instead and before he pulled away he whispered in her ear. “That is why I love you, P. You’re a queen and you remind me that I have to be a king in order to keep you. I’m going to fix this.”
“You pinky swear?” she asked, bringing their old thing back. It was the one thing that they never broke. To pinky swear was like putting it on the Bible . . . the sacredness of their rela
tionship. She held out her pinky and he locked his with hers.
“I pinky swear, ma,” he answered.
He headed out and before he opened the door she said, “You can meet him, tomorrow. We can take the train to DC and you can meet your son.” She paused for a beat. “If you want to.”
“I’ll be here,” he replied.
Indie walked out of the hotel distracted by the gifts and curses that his wedding day had produced, but before he could process any of it his cell phone came alive in his hand.
We need to talk . . . in person. 9 p.m. You know where.
—Z
The message from Zya was enough to put his mind back on the money. It was a welcomed distraction from the game of tug of war that was going on inside his heart.
Chapter 11
Business. Hustle. Money. It was all a welcome distraction from the circus that had become his life. As he rode in the back of the tinted black truck he wondered what the motivation was for Zya’s summons. They were now legit. With Indie as a shareholder in Vartex Enterprises, their transition into pharmaceuticals would prove to be beyond lucrative. All they were waiting for was the FDA approvals to come through. Indie had access to prescription drugs and with Zya as a silent force behind him, he intended to establish a network that spanned from East to West. Some would never understand his new disinterest in cocaine, but what niggas didn’t understand was that pills were where the real money was. Pills didn’t discriminate. Niggas, bitches, black, white, young, and old had all found the new vice as a means to fly and he was singlehandedly going to subdue the game. All he had to figure out was distribution. He hadn’t forgotten about his new role in the company, he had simply put it on the back burner. He needed every move to be made with clarity and at the moment he was all over the place. Indie didn’t want to squander his new position amongst the powerful and legit at Vartex, by making rash decisions. His next move would be his best. As his driver pulled up to the private airstrip, he grabbed his Louie duffel out of the seat next to him. He pulled a crisp one hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to the driver.