Girls From da Hood 9

by Amaleka McCall

  “Yes, grind it. Grind this pussy! It’s your pussy! I’m not giving it to nobody else ever again. It’s all yours,” I huffed. I don’t know what had come over me. I was possessed by the deep love I had for him. I couldn’t help it. He had taken over my mind and body.

  “Oh . . . fuck me! I’m right there! I’m right there!” I panted now. I could feel a few drops of dribble escaping the sides of my mouth. Big K had my fucking mouth watering. I had never felt the feeling I was having right then. None of the punk-ass dudes I had fucked had ever hit the right spot. The overwhelming feeling invading me was like what I would imagine a sunburst to actually feel like. As if spurts or flashes of sunlight was exploding inside of my groin. Then it happened. It all burst.

  “Ahhhhh! Yes! Ahhh!” I screamed over and over. I had just experienced my very first orgasm and I knew it.

  “Arrrggg!” Big K followed right after. His body completely relaxed. He moved out of me. His dick was still hard. He collapsed onto the floor while I was still on the couch. Neither one of us said a word. We both knew we had crossed a boundary that we could never take back. I think we both knew that we never wanted to take it back either.

  Chapter 14

  After that first time, Big K and I fucked every chance we got. As soon as Ms. Desiree left for work. Right before we knew she’d be home. Sometimes we had quickies while she showered. It was foul. It was risky. It was exciting. At first it was a game to me, but it quickly became obvious that I was in love with this man. If he had asked me to jump off the f Verrazano Bridge to prove my love, I would’ve asked what time and from what point. Anyone who couldn’t understand where I was coming from after going unloved almost my entire life could kiss my ass.

  Two months after our love affair started, I got up one morning and found Big K at the kitchen table with a stack of papers in front of him. I smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back.

  “Good morning to you too,” I said sarcastically.

  “Check this shit out,” Big K said, sliding the stack toward me.

  “National Benefit Life Insurance Company.” I read it and looked at him quizzically.

  “Desiree took out a $1.5 million policy on me. She also made me the beneficiary on her $2 million policy. She gives me these fucking papers and tells me to sign them. She don’t discuss them with me or nothing,” he ranted. He seemed stressed, like he thought there was some sinister reason for her taking the insurance out on him.

  “So, what’s wrong with that?” I asked. I wasn’t tracking with him. A lot of husbands and wives had insurance on each other. He looked at me seriously.

  “She also gave me these,” he said, sliding some more papers toward me.

  I read them over and my heart began racing wildly in my chest. She’s buying them a house? In Long Island? What about me? How will I see Big K? My mind raced like crazy.

  “She’s trying to get us up out of these projects. The only place I’ve ever know is Coney Island,” Big K complained. He never said anything about not being able to see me anymore. I mean, I was grown now. The chances of Ms. Desiree inviting me to move into their new house with them would probably be slim.

  I was quiet.

  “You know what two million could do for us right now? Me and you? We could get rid of everybody. We could really be together for good. I would have enough to be a real factor in the game out there. I could put my investment up and triple that shit in no time. I could take you with me to another country where we could live like a fucking king and queen off that, baby girl,” Big K said dreamily.

  Those were the words I’d been dying to hear. Big K speaking about us having a future together. As insane as it might’ve seemed at the time, I was longing for that.

  “You hear me, baby girl? That money could free us,” he said as he pulled me onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around me and massaged my breasts.

  I closed my eyes and smiled. I could actually picture us living together happily ever after. I was quiet while I dreamt of what it would actually be like to have our love on public display instead of all of the sneaking around we were doing.

  “Too bad Desiree would be in the way of our dream. I mean, she would have to die before I got that shit,” Big K said solemnly.

  “Yeah, we might as well forget it. She’s the picture of health. She won’t be dying no time soon,” I said dismissively. I stood up from his lap. I was uncomfortable all of a sudden. We were getting a little too bold for our own good.

  “Even people who are the picture of health die. They could die in accidents. They could die in a robbery gone wrong. I mean, good health ain’t got shit to do with it. Especially when you live in the projects. Especially when your husband and son was in the game and made enemies, you feel me?” Big K replied.

  I crumpled my eyebrows as I listened to him. What the fuck is he trying to say? I asked myself silently. He didn’t keep his intentions a secret for long at all.

  Right after that Big K fucked me in the shower. He fucked me so good I had gotten nauseous and threw up afterward.

  “Damn, I fucked the shit out you huh?” he asked as I hurled over the toilet. “Either that or your ass is pregnant with my seed.”

  A cold feeling shot down my spine when he said that. In all of the time we’d been having sex, I hadn’t even realized that my period was missing. Kelsi! What the fuck is wrong with you! What are you doing! I screamed in my head.

  Big K grabbed me from the back and fucked me some more.

  When Ms. Desiree came home that night, I faked like I was asleep. I heard her come to the room and tiptoe back out when she saw that I was asleep. I listened as she took her shower. Then, I heard it. I was frozen. Paralyzed by anger. That fire sparked up in my chest and I could hardly control my breathing. I lay there listening as Big K had sex with Ms. Desiree. I immediately hated her. I hated her for being his real wife. I hated her for being able to fuck him while someone else was in the apartment. I hated her for having what I thought was mine. That night, I pitted myself against Ms. Desiree. She was now my enemy.

  Every day for three weeks Big K worked his magic on me. He fucked me. He fed me lies. He pumped me up and he made a plan. We would be together forever. He would love me forever, if I did this one thing to make sure.

  The night Big K gave me the 9 mm Glock, he handed it to me and said, “This is what is going to make things for us official. We won’t have anybody to worry about and we will have the money we need.”

  I took the gun, stuffed it into my bag, and left the apartment. I had had five shots of Patrón that served as my liquid courage that night. I had tried to clear my muddled mind. I couldn’t allow myself to think about my Nana, who I had missed dearly. I couldn’t think about my friendship with Cheyenne. I couldn’t think about my past. I couldn’t think about my piece-of-shit mother. I couldn’t think of anything except being with the man I had always loved. Finally getting love from somebody was motivation enough for me. I started to fantasize about the future Big K and me would have. Being able to walk down the street holding his hand. Being able to marry him in a church. Most of all, being able to give birth to the baby I was carrying and celebrate with Big K like parents of a newborn should. Those fantasies propelled me to do what I did.

  I can’t remember much from that night because I have purposely put it out of my mind. But just like Amy Fisher, I know that I pulled the trigger to do away with the wife of the man I loved. I was finally going to have someone of my own. At least that’s what I had convinced myself. As crazy as it may seem now, I had actually felt like I’d done the right thing for everyone involved.

  Chapter 15

  Cheyenne Turner

  When the house phone rang in the middle of the night I immediately knew something was wrong. My mother was the only person who called me at the apartment I shared with a roommate in Austin, Texas. Anyone else contacted me on my cell phone, which hardly rang these days.

  “Cheyenne,” Amber, my roommate, called out to me in the darkness of my bedr
oom.

  “Hmmm,” I moaned. We had an early start the next day with our first round of exams upon us. Neither one of us wanted to be up that late.

  “The phone is for you. It’s your father,” Amber grumbled, annoyed. I flung my blanket off of me, wishing that we had spent the few extra dollars on a cordless phone instead of the stupid landline that plugged into the wall. “Thanks,” I groaned out as I brushed past Amber, stomping my way to the living room.

  “Hello?” I huffed into the receiver. It was my father for sure. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds. “Daddy? I can’t understand you. What are you saying?” I asked urgently. I was definitely jolted into full wakefulness now. Something was wrong, that much I knew. My father was sobbing into the phone. I had never heard him cry.

  “What? What are you saying? Something happened to who?” I asked, my voice going high-pitched.

  Amber was standing in front of me now. She was moving her lips to silently ask me if everything was okay. I put my hand up in a halting motion to her.

  “Okay, calm down,” I said, my voice cracking now. I heard my father take a deep breath. He started speaking again. I was finally able to understand what he was saying.

  “Something bad happened to Mommy?” I asked calmly at first. My face crumpled in confusion. There’s no way something bad could happen to my mother. Then what he was telling me had finally settled into my brain. “Something bad like what? No!” I screamed.

  My father had said, “Cheyenne, your mother is gone.” I collapsed. There was no way I could live without my mother. She was my whole world.

  I still don’t know how I made it from Texas to Brooklyn in one piece. Amber came along to make sure that I got there safely. She was just a sweetheart like that. The entire trip home was a blur. Amber and I didn’t talk much, but our unspoken body language let me know that I wasn’t imagining things.

  My mother was dead. I wasn’t going to believe it until I saw it. No one knew anything about the circumstance surrounding her death, except she had definitely been murdered. Kelsi never called me after I spoke to my father. She never called my cell while I traveled. I just figured she was probably just as distraught as I was.

  When I arrived at my building there was a candlelight shrine outside dedicated to my mother. My father met me outside. As soon as I stepped out of my cab, I just started screaming. It was real. My mother. My best friend. My whole world. Was gone. Dead.

  “Hi, baby girl,” my father greeted me with a forced smile. I looked around at all of the people outside. All of the candles. It was real. My mother was dead. Murdered.

  “Who would do this? She never hurt nobody! She never hurt nobody! Why?” I screamed. “Why?” I caught a glimpse of a few people from the neighborhood crying and wiping their tears away.

  My father grabbed me and held me. I dropped down to the ground where they had placed candles and teddy bears in my mother’s memory. I could not stop screaming.

  I don’t remember how and when they were able to get me upstairs, but I do remember walking into our apartment and collapsing again.

  Kelsi finally showed up after I had been back in Brooklyn for about three hours. I was lying on the couch with a cold compress over my eyes when she came in. She rushed over to me.

  “Oh, Chey, I’m so sorry.” Kelsi bent down and hugged me. “I’m so, so sorry,” she repeated. My floodgate of tears started up again.

  “Why! Why! She didn’t deserve this! She was a good person,” I sobbed.

  “I know. I know. She didn’t deserve it. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry,” Kelsi cried. I had no idea at the time what she was sorry for, but it wouldn’t take that long for me to find out.

  The day after I got home the detectives showed up at the house. Detective Brice Simpson was the detective who stood out to me. He was strikingly handsome with a well-groomed mustache and goatee. His hair was cut low with waves that were perfect. He seemed like any other guy from our neighborhood. He even wore jeans with a nice V-neck sweater instead of a suit and trench coat like most detectives I knew about. He did all of the talking. After the introductions, the white detective with Detective Simpson mostly took notes.

  “Your mother was shot in cold blood. There was nothing taken from her. We found all of her jewelry, wallet, everything intact. When we see things like this, we think it’s personal,” Detective Simpson told us.

  My father shifted on the couch where we sat huddled together.

  “Is there anyone you could think of who would have something personal against your mother . . . your wife?” Detective Simpson asked.

  I shook my head vigorously back and forth as the tears started up again.

  “Man, my wife was a gentle as they came. Nobody would want to hurt her,” my father answered on our family’s behalf.

  Detective Simpson gave him a look. “What’s been going on at home? Any drama? Any conflicts?” Detective Simpson asked.

  “Nah, man. Everything here was peachy. We are a close family,” my father quickly answered.

  Kelsi sat across on the loveseat across from Detective Simpson. He looked over at her. She lowered her eyes and started swinging her legs in and out. I knew her so well.

  “Well, my . . . He just recently came home from being in prison. My brother is on the street selling drugs . . . working for a dude who is my father’s known enemy. She basically has lived with us since we were kids because her mother is on crack and used to really abuse her,” I rambled, letting out all of our family secrets. Anything that would help the detectives find out who killed my mother.

  Detective Simpson was quiet for a few minutes.

  “So you’ve been gone to medical school in Texas? Your brother is gone from the home? Who was here? Just your parents?” he asked, his forehead creased.

  “And my best friend who, like I said, has been basically living with my family,” I said, looking over at Kelsi.

  She stopped swinging her legs in and out.

  “Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom,” Kelsi said as she jumped up from the couch. She rushed to the back of the apartment and slammed the bathroom door.

  “I guess she’s emotional huh?” Detective Simpson asked.

  I shook my head in the affirmative. “To give you some clarification on the type of person my mother was, she took care of her, Kelsi, like she was her own child. How many women can you say would do that? There is no one I can think of, for any reason in the world, who would just shoot my mother down like a hunted animal,” I told him. I laid my head on my father’s shoulder.

  Detective Simpson took a deep breath. “Cheyenne, I usually don’t make promises when it comes to my cases. But, I’m making the exception for you. I promise you I will find your mother’s killer, and when I do, I will make sure that person never sees the light of day again,” Detective Simpson told me with feeling. He shot my father a squinty-eyed look. Then he stood up.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it. Trust me, my mother didn’t deserve to die like that,” I said through tears. I stood up and shook Detective Simpson’s hand. I looked in his eyes and I saw a sincerity I had never seen from anyone other than my mother. I knew then that he was going to solve the case.

  “I would’ve bet my life and lost if you told me that Kelsi and my father were the ones who plotted to kill my mother.”—Cheyenne Turner’s final statement at the sentencing

  “I will never forgive myself for hurting the only family I ever had. I just wanted to be loved forever.”

  —Kelsi Jones’s final statement at the sentencing

  Chapter 16

  Kelsi Jones

  August 2010

  “Life without the possibility of parole. Life without the possibility of parole.”

  The words kept replaying over and over. Loud gasps rolled through the crowded courtroom. Reporters burst out of the courtroom doors so they’d be the first to report the story.

  I didn’t even react. I didn’t cry. I didn’t get weak at the knees. I stood there while Ju
dge Graves read me the riot act for what seemed like the one hundredth time. I kept my head up high; after all, pretty girls didn’t go around with their heads down. I deserved it. After reliving everything I realized just how much I deserved it. All of my life I had blamed others for any mistakes I made, but it was me. I was the one who had pulled that trigger. I was the one who had slept with another woman’s husband after that same woman had been more than a mother to me. I had tried to steal her life. I was finally able to take responsibility for my actions. I did it and I deserved to rot in prison for the rest of my life. I didn’t turn around after the sentence was handed down. The court officers flanked me on either side. They’d come to take me away. I didn’t have the courage to turn around and look at the faces of the ones I’d hurt. I never wanted my son to see my face. Although he was only a few months old, I knew it best that he never have to grow up ashamed of his biological mother like I had. I was sure that Cheyenne was going to give him a good life. Cheyenne loved me at some point in our lives. She was just like Ms. Desiree: selfless and like a saint. My son was her baby brother and after I’d given birth to him, in my heart, I had named her the godmother, just like we’d planned it as kids.

  I kept my head up all the way back to the courthouse holding cells. My attorney was the last person I saw that day. He handed me a sealed envelope and told me to open it when I was alone. I stuffed in down my panties since I knew that once I got to the jail they’d take it away. When I was finally alone with no guards breathing down my back, I opened the envelope. There was a card inside. I opened it. I immediately recognized the handwriting.

  Kelsi,

  You are not like my daughter, you are my other daughter. Here is your set of keys to our new home. I told you that I would always be here for you. Well, I meant it. Now get to packing!