Girls From da Hood 9

by Amaleka McCall

  George stopped in front of a room with similar glass doors as all the other rooms we’d passed. The curtain was drawn so I couldn’t see inside. “This is Joyce’s room.” He pointed. I took a deep breath and walked in.

  “You woke up,” Joyce said in a whisper as I walked in.

  Her voice was weak and she looked just as sick as the other people I’d seen in the rooms before hers. She had a tube in her nose for oxygen and multiple IVs stuck in her arms. I was hoping it looked worse than it really was.

  “Joyce, when are we leaving? I just want to go home,” I said with tears in my eyes and leaning down to hug her.

  “Baby, I’m going home, just not quite yet. Sit down; I want to talk to you.”

  “I’m going to take such good care of you. All these years of helping you cook won’t go to waste,” I said, holding her hands. We both laughed together.

  “Yes, you do know how to run my kitchen. First, I need to explain some things to you. Angela, I know you’ve gone through a lot in your life and you experienced some really bad things as a little precious girl. For so long you thought no one loved you and you were alone. Well, you weren’t alone. George and I have loved you your entire life.”

  “My entire life?” I interrupted Joyce. I was confused by her statement.

  “Angela.” She squeezed my hand tight. “George and I are your paternal grandparents. Your father was our son. He was one of the youngest men recruited in the FBI. The first week on the job he was killed by an assailant. Your mother didn’t handle it well. She went into labor the day of the funeral. She wasn’t able to attend and blamed you for not seeing your father, George III, one last time. Your mother ceased all contact with anyone. We had no idea how badly you were being treated and attempted many times to reach out to our only grandchild. Your mother had schizophrenia. Her drug use made matters worse,” Joyce explained.

  I sat in silence as I tried to absorb all the things I was hearing. Tears began to fill my eyes and my heart ached literally.

  “Here are some pictures of your father,” George added, then handed me an envelope.

  I remained silent. I couldn’t form any words. I didn’t know what to say or how to feel at the moment.

  “So this is the same man whose portrait hung in the living room for all these years?” I managed to ask.

  “Yes,” George confirmed while nodding his head.

  “Before you ask, we didn’t tell you because we weren’t sure if you could handle this type of delicate information. We showed how much we cared by raising you. Yes, the first decade of your life was pure horror, but the next one, I hope you feel we brought joy and enriched your life.”

  “Yes, you did.” I finally managed to force out some words, then burst out into tears and began to cry uncontrollably.

  “From the bottom of our hearts, we apologize for not telling you sooner,” George said.

  “I love you,” Joyce said and squeezed my hand hard again.

  Tears were streaming down her face. The monitor that sat beside her began to beep fast and loud. Moments later, the nurses ran in. George pulled me aside, sat me in a nearby chair, grabbed my hands, and looked me directly in the eyes.

  “Your grandmother has a bad heart. We discovered this a few years ago. The accident has taken a toll on her body. She has been struggling since we got here,” George explained.

  “What are you saying?” I asked, although I knew exactly what he meant.

  “It’s time,” George said to the nurses who struggled to keep Joyce alive.

  He led me over to Joyce’s bedside.

  “Angela, it’s time. I’m going home to heaven. I’m going to ask God if I can take over being your angel.” She forced out the words.

  A sudden feeling of peace came over me. It was as though I knew Joyce was leaving this earth. George and I both kissed and hugged her. Within seconds, she took her last breath and fell into an everlasting, peaceful sleep.

  “She was waiting for you. She didn’t want to be revived initially but she asked that the nurses resuscitate her until she got to see you one last time. She didn’t want to leave you without the chance to say good-bye,” George said with tears in his eyes.

  Chapter 14

  Sorrow

  Six days, eight hours, twenty-four minutes, and fifty-nine seconds later, we laid Joyce to rest. I refused to look into the casket. I wanted to remember her as she was: warm, vibrant, and full of life. George and I decided for her to wear a pink dress she wore most of the time when they went dancing. A pink rose was placed in her hair. It was surreal that she was even gone. For days, Fera continued to go to Joyce’s bedroom, looking for her. Every time she did that I would break down in tears.

  Even though at first there was some resistance, the church finally agreed to let me have Fera be present during the funeral. Joyce would have wanted it that way.

  Julie and Becca were right by my side. My old social worker even showed up to be there for me. To my surprise, Heather and Antonia sent flowers to the church. People from high school who I hadn’t seen or heard from in years made an appearance. It meant a lot to me that people cared about my grandmother and me. The choir sang the song “I Feel Like Going On.” I could barely stand. George had to literally hold me up.

  He was trying his best to put on a strong front. Deep down, I knew he was hurting even more than me. They had been married longer than I had been alive.

  There wasn’t a single seat left in the church. I knew but I didn’t realize how much Joyce had impacted the community. She had helped so many families get on or get back on their feet.

  “Let’s not be sad and weep into the night. Instead, let’s rejoice her death,” the preacher suggested, looking directly at me.

  At the end of the service, we all marched out. The open casket sat at the door of the church so people might view the body as we exited. The family exited first. My heart raced as I got closer to the church doors. I knew Joyce’s pale, cold, lifeless body would be waiting there for me.

  “Are you sure that you don’t want to get one last glimpse of her?” George asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” I nodded my head.

  The repast was held at the house directly after we left the burial site. I was sitting in the kitchen at my grandparent’s house, barely able to speak. So many people were giving me their condolences but I wasn’t even listening. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just couldn’t. Life had become a blur. I didn’t know what the next day or the next minute would bring. All I knew was that Joyce, whom I loved so dearly, was gone. Tired of the constant aggravation, I walked out to the back porch. I figured a little air would make me feel a little better. Fera followed me outside.

  “Angela, please eat something,” Martha suggested. She was one of Joyce’s best friends. I hadn’t been outside a full five minutes before she spotted me. Martha had been sitting on the swing, smoking a cigarette, when she noticed my presence.

  “No, thank you,” I said, shaking my head.

  I began to get short of breath and everything began to spin. I needed to lie down. I went upstairs to my old bedroom to take off my black dress. Afterward, I stood in the mirror and looked at my naked body. I stared at the multiple scar marks on my thighs. Then, I grabbed the razor that was sitting on the top of my dresser. My initial thought was to slit my wrists. After all, I had nothing more to live for. Then, Fera ran in the room and sat beside me. I was so deep in my thoughts that I totally ignored her. Then, she began to whimper. There was no way I could ignore that. I picked her up and dropped the razor to the floor.

  I finally took an even longer look at myself, wondering, what am I doing? What am I supposed to do now? I started to feel like I was losing it and Joyce’s death was going to consume me so much that I may have spiraled downhill. Being on the brink of insanity, I grabbed an Ativan and popped it in my mouth, then lay down for a much-needed rest.

  Chapter 15

  Tension

  “I’m going to erupt in your mouth,” I assur
ed him with his head buried in between my legs.

  “I’m ready and can’t wait for you to do it again,” he lifted his head up long to whisper.

  The alarm clock sounded, waking me from my sleep. I woke up and removed my hand from between my legs, realizing I was only dreaming.

  “Damn it, I was dreaming again!” I said to no one in particular, then hit the off button on the alarm clock.

  Periodically, I would have this dream of having steamy sexual encounters with the same man. Funny thing was that I could never see his face. All I seemed to get a glimpse of was his smile. I flipped on the television to get a look of the weather for the day. That’s when I read across the screen that the university was closed due to bad weather. That was music to my ears.

  I went to the bathroom and started the shower as I brushed my teeth. The entire time all I could think of was my dream. The constant thoughts of that dream were causing sexual tension to build up inside of me. As I got naked for the shower, I began to touch myself. Just then my cell phone rang. By the time I reached the phone it had stopped ringing.

  I checked my voicemails and it was my therapist I had been seeing. She was still calling me. I figured George was probably putting her up to it. They were so afraid that Joyce’s death would cause me to act out and possibly hurt someone or myself. Little did they know, I hadn’t laid a hand on anyone but myself, and that was in the most pleasurable way possible.

  After a quick shower, I decided to go to the store to pick up a few items. Fera was running out of her doggie treats. She would have a fit knowing her favorite chicken bones were all gobbled up. I dressed warmly and threw on snow boots. The streets were snowed in so I would have to walk around the corner to the store. When I reached my destination, there were only the store clerk and manager there. I guessed we were the only ones brave enough to chance going out in such bad weather.

  “Excuse me, do you carry chicken treats for petite dogs?” I asked the manager, who was stocking up the shelf with salad dressings.

  “Yes, I think so. Let me check in the back,” he replied. “What kind of dog do you have?” he asked as I followed him.

  “A teacup yorkie,” I answered as I continued to follow.

  As I watched this young man, the urge I was feeling from this morning was increasing. I felt like I couldn’t fight it any longer. I wanted to run to the women’s restroom and masturbate in hopes that it would provide some sort of relief.

  “You can wait here or continue shopping. Don’t worry, I’ll find you,” he suggested, interrupting my moment of extreme sexual tension.

  “I will hang out here,” I said, smiling.

  I watched the movement of his tight, round ass as he walked. For some reason, I began to place his face on the faceless man in my persistent dreams. Almost instantly, that sexual urge I had earlier in the morning was back. The urge was so strong that I actually glanced around to see if there was a bathroom nearby that I could go in and please myself.

  After he went into the back, I waited a few minutes. I glanced around again for a visible restroom but there was none in sight. I placed my oversized purse in front of me as I gently rubbed my hand between my legs. That just couldn’t give me the satisfaction I needed. I felt like I was going to explode inside. I headed into the stockroom in the direction I’d seen the manager go. When I walked in, he was kneeled down, looking through boxes. He turned around and got up.

  “Ma’am, it’s not recommended that customers enter the stockroom. Liability purposes,” he explained.

  I totally ignored the statement he made. My mind was on more pressing issues. I came closer to him and I gave him a kiss. At first, he looked confused and pulled back slightly. I grabbed his face and kissed him again. This time, he wanted more. His tongue felt warm as he kissed me passionately.

  “Where’s your office?” I whispered in his ear.

  “Over there.” He pointed as I rubbed on his dick.

  I’d never had an experience like this before, but I’d played it over so many times in my head. With the constant dreams, the demonstrations I watched through the peephole at Pearl and with all the pornos I’d watched, I felt like I’d seen enough to teach a class. It was as though I was a self-taught professional.

  I gently tugged on it as I led the way to the office. I took down his pants and motioned for him to lie down on his desk, not bothering to clear out the countless piles of paper on top. I pulled up my trench coat and placed my panties in my coat pocket. He struggled to take out a condom. I quickly placed the condom on his dick, not hesitating to climb on afterward. Both of us could hear the store clerk paging him over and over again. Neither of us cared. I had to come and so did he.

  It was quite painful as I forced my wet pussy down on his erect penis. Slowly, inch by inch, we moved in unison, pushing his dick deep inside me. It was a pleasurable pain, like nothing I’d ever felt before.

  “Your pussy is ssoooo tight,” he said as he squeezed my ass tight.

  Once he was fully inside me, my thoughts drifted back to scenes from multiple dreams and pornos I’d seen. I thrust my hips back and forth, giving my clit a pleasing feeling. It didn’t take long for me to reach my climax. We both panted. It was an indication we had come. Without a word, I lifted my body and slid my panties back on.

  “Now, about those chicken treats. Did you find them?” I asked while tightening the belt of my coat.

  “It’s in the boxes near the long shelves,” he said, panting.

  “Thanks.” I nodded.

  “Take a couple of bags free of charge,” he suggested.

  “No; I appreciate the offer. You work just as I do. Missing inventory won’t get you that yearly bonus,” I said and walked out of the office.

  Chapter 16

  Visitors

  “Welcome to Pearl, how may I help you?” I greeted the gentleman. The line was getting backed up.

  “I have an appointment with Amanda. I’m a little early. It’s my first time,” the man explained.

  “Please, have a seat in our guest area. There are complimentary refreshments, as well. You’re welcome to them,” I replied.

  “If you don’t mind, may I pay upfront? When I get done, I have some other business meetings to attend to,” he said.

  “Of course, sir. Let me just take a peek at the package you’re receiving today,” I mentioned.

  “Do you take all major credit cards?” he asked.

  “Yes. Your total will be $575,” I said as he handed me the card, not caring about the figure I gave him. After a short while, I escorted him to his room.

  All of the sudden, the FBI came barging in the facility. My hands started shaking badly and my armpits were sweating.

  I was shoved into a room until they were ready to speak with me. Women and men were close to bare naked being hauled to the nearest police station. It was so humiliating. While waiting to be interrogated, I still had my cell phone. A few years back, the owner, Antonia, and I had established a special language. I sent her a text to a private cell phone line saying the Chanel perfume had ran out. It truly meant law enforcement had raided the place.

  Pinned to me was a woman who was sobbing about her husband finding out about her indiscretions. She had been a regular client, always requesting Thomas. A few months earlier, she blurted out he was the only man who knew how to satisfy her. I knew the employees were selling pleasure and sheer fantasy. I just never envisioned Pearl getting raided.

  The FBI officer dragged me to Antonia’s office.

  “Aah, I remember you little one from years ago on the police force. My last name is Goldman. What would have your grandmother thought of you working here, Ms. Farmer?” she started to ask me.

  It was becoming rather difficult not to retaliate. I had to remain calm if I wanted to walk out of here. Fortunately, for me, Antonia gave me intensive training on these situations having the potential to get out of control.

  “Leave my grandmother out of this,” I said, finally acknowledging her.


  “You go from milking cows to knowingly working for an upscale whorehouse,” the agent said, obviously trying to strike a chord with me.

  “What can I help you with?” I inquired.

  “The head of Pearl, Antonia,” she stated.

  In my mind, I laughed. The FBI was going to put in countless hours to track Antonia. This wasn’t her first go-round with them. The agent, Goldman, appeared to have a personal vendetta against her. Let the games begin.

  Mostly, everyone was taken to the local police station for questioning. No one truly knew where she was. I didn’t even know. Later into the night, we were released.

  Chapter 17

  Aftermath

  I later found out Antonia and the establishment of Pearl owed back taxes totaling over $1 million. It was the true reason why Pearl was raided the previous week. From the time I sent her that text, I still hadn’t heard from her. Of course, all of her phone numbers were no good anymore. Because I’d pretty much been running Pearl, nearly all of the employees and clients were looking for me to pick up the pieces. The loss of Pearl was hitting us hard. I was barely able to pay my rent. Sad thing was, I didn’t know what I was going to do, either. Working in this kind of business doesn’t guarantee a severance package.

  Janet, another of the employees, told me that she didn’t have money for daycare. I felt bad. Jacob from security left me voicemails saying his house was going to be foreclosed on. Their burdens were beginning to become mine. A lot of Antonia’s workers had been with her for years. It was wrong how she just left. No one knew where the hell she was. She could have been at her beach house in Los Angeles while everyone was suffering. As for myself, my brain had grown tired of trying to figure it out. I was on my own, now.

  This day, I made it a point to refer all calls to voicemail first thing in the morning. I had another exam to study for and I wanted to go check on George. I would go by every Sunday and cook him a meal. In honor of Joyce, I would make fried fish. It’s a funny story. The first time I learned to fry fish, Joyce gave me a thirty-minute lesson on it. That same day, she hosted the church picnic. I fried at least a hundred pieces of fish, slaving over hot grease for at least ten hours. She would always tell me work does a body a whole lot of good. I laughed to myself as I thought back to that story.