Power

by Kenya Wright

  “No worries.”

  He shut the door behind him. Silent minutes passed. I should’ve dealt with it, but I couldn’t.

  Finishing the skittles, I yelled through the door. “This is boring!”

  Fuji laughed. “Around here, boredom is a good thing.”

  I turned away from the closed door and walked around the room. “Is Noah married?”

  Maybe I could yell for help and someone else in the house will hear me.

  “Is the boss married?” Fuji said. “Yes, but more like he’s married to the streets.”

  I muttered, “How poetic.”

  Like the rest of Noah’s place, luxurious swag dripped from every corner. A queen sized bed sat in this bedroom. I touched the softest mattress I’d ever stroked in my life. The sheets and comforter were chocolate with a sparkling gold design of butterflies outlining the edges. Another monster television hung on the walls complete with speakers above it.

  Where the hell is the remote?

  I searched around and gave up looking for it.

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” I yelled out.

  “No, just bitches.”

  “Just bitches,” I whispered. “He’s a modern day Romeo.”

  The carpet was white and super soft. On the walls, paintings hung and added an erotic appeal—a few displayed wet naked women rubbing their bodies against a very lucky man. Others showcased breasts. The big one over the bed portrayed an opened-mouthed beauty with her thighs spread and her sex available for all eyes to see.

  I headed back over to the door and knocked. “Eh.”

  “Yes?” Fuji asked.

  “What’s Noah’s last name?”

  He replied on the other side, “It’s probably better if you didn’t know.”

  Great. This day has been a big, bad joke.

  Not that my situation was funny. Jokes had structure. Elements that had to be included. The set-up served as the beginning. It was to gain the audience’s trust. The fewer amount of words in a set-up the better. Next came the punch line. The critical part of the joke. The moment where everyone was supposed to laugh. It was the surprise at the end. The thing that twisted the mind and caused a chuckle to rush out of one’s throat.

  This situation was madness with no structure, just a punch line that kept slapping me in the face, over and over.

  A comedienne stumbles into a room of gangsters and is kidnapped and forced to stay in the gangster’s apartment against her will, until finally he stabs or shoots her. Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah. I’ve got to get the hell out of here! But how?

  My nerves frazzled, but I breathed through it. One couldn’t just walk in fear during a fucked up situation. I had to be calm and focus on a way out. I had to continue befriending Fuji. The man could help me somehow. He wasn’t that bad. I sat down on the ground and leaned my back against the door. “Hey, did I ever tell you about how I became a comedienne?”

  “Are you a comedienne?” he said. “It looked like earlier was the first time you ever got on stage.”

  “Eh! Everybody’s a critic.”

  “You look more like a college girl that smokes lots of weed.”

  Well, isn’t he an observant guy.

  “I am a college girl. English major to be exact. I actually missed a big exam today to make this audition.” My grades struggled. I should’ve already had my degree, but I didn’t focus on anything but writing jokes.

  “English major. So you’re a book nerd?” Fuji asked.

  “My mom’s a history teacher. She taught at Briar Park Middle School.”

  “That’s a rough school. I know a lot of crazies that went there.”

  “Anyway, I always had a thing for words. Mom shoveled British literature down my throat when I was younger. On nights I didn’t have homework, she provided extra assignments—things that she believed I needed to know before I became a woman—Maya Angelou poems, the Civil Rights movement, Gandhi’s life story. Stuff like that.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  “Watching a man get skinned alive might’ve been more fun.” My stomach turned.

  Gain his trust. Make him laugh. Be his friend. And then get the hell out of here before Noah skins me alive.

  “So I graduated from high school,” I said. “Of course, I decided to study English, even though the very idea of looking at commas and periods all day gives me chills. Semesters go by. I’m a decent student. The words grow on me. By my junior year, I’m smoking weed though, and you know how that gets. You roll a nice fat joint, put it between your lips, light, and smoke, and then suddenly, you’re hoping to find your passion in life.”

  “All I do is get high,” Fuji said. “Weed never made me want to find my passion. You must smoke that white people shit?”

  I grinned. “Either way, I decided after smoking a rather big blunt of white people shit that I was going to be a spoken word artist. I never had a problem being on stage. I did theater back in the day. Weeks go by and I throw some poetry together. In my mind, these poems are amazing bodies of work.”

  “No way. I can’t see you as a poet, either.”

  “You’re just flooding me with compliments, Fuji. Anyway, so I show up at my first open mic. I’m in character. I’m wearing a headdress with feathers on my head. I’m calling myself The Merry Moon Goddess. And I decide to perform my first poem which I believe is a masterpiece.”

  “What was it about?”

  “It was an erotic poem with. . .food product metaphors. For example,” I got into that rhythmic tone that I’d used that night. “So I start off, ‘Your coffee cock! Long roasted and brewed at the mushroomed tip. Coffee cock! So hot and steamy, boiling over. My cup runneth over, coffee cock! You keep me up all night. I’m dehydrated off of you. I’m creaming. Frothing, in fact. I’m Irish Creaming over that coffee cock. I’m Cinnamon Hazelnut and even French Vanilla-ing all up and down on that coffee cock—’”

  “You said this in front of people with a headdress of feathers?” Fuji laughed so loud it took a minute for me to talk.

  “Yes. I said this in front of people. And from the very beginning, the audience was laughing. Truthfully, once I said coffee cock, that’s when most of the audience fell on the floor.”

  “What did you do?”

  “On the inside, I was a bit hurt, but I couldn’t just run off the stage. Fuck that. So I went with it. Pretended that the poem was not supposed to be sexy, but funny. And that is how I decided comedy was for me. Their laughter was a high. It intoxicated me more than any drink or blunt ever could.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Last year. I’ve been busting my behind to get as much experience as I could. Doing every open mic I can find. Telling jokes at parties and volunteering to go to nursing homes and tell jokes there. The shit is a high. There’s power in making a person laugh. I feel like a god.”

  “I think you’re funny. You’ll definitely make it.”

  “If I stay alive?”

  Fuji had no reply. That shit scared me more than anything.

  Thanks, buddy, for the reassuring response. I feel so much better.

  I got myself up and decided to look around the bedroom some more. I opened a few drawers, expecting them to be empty and seeing more than I would’ve ever imagined.

  Oh, my, Mr. Noah. It seems that we’ve found the Ark.

  Everything a sex maniac could want filled the drawers—flavored and warming lube, double dildos and strap-ons, butt plugs, as well as bottles with no names on them, but containing multicolored pills. More butterflies covered each label as if they’d been personalized or something.

  He must be into some freaky shit. Is this where all of his women sleep?

  A set of knives were in the bottom drawer next to silk ties. Excited, I grabbed one, only to realize that the damn things were plastic and harmless, just for show.

  A plastic knife won’t help.

  I slammed the drawer shut and rummaged through other ones.

  Fuji yelled through the door. “M
J?”

  I jumped. “Yeah?”

  “What are you doing in there?”

  “Hmmm.” I dangled a three-foot black cock from my hand and studied the bulging vein decorating the side. “I’m just relaxing.”

  “Good. Just sit back and relax.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I slashed the dildo in the air and bet I could beat someone with it, if the situation called for it. “That’s what I’m doing. Just sitting back and biding my time.”

  Don’t think about the possible disease and germs on the big dildo. Remember what all those meditations course books said. Our thoughts are our reality. Therefore, this is a clean dick. Germ-free.

  Skepticism still filled my heart, but I held it anyway, promising myself that I’d bleach my hands as soon as I escaped.

  So how do I get out of here? Damn I wish I’d grabbed another pile of the skittles.

  Heading over to the closed windows, I moved the curtain and looked down at a parking lot. Bright lights illuminated the space. Noah stood around four big guys with scars on their faces.

  I bet the main prerequisite for being in Noah’s gang is having a scar. Got a scar? Yes. Scare the shit out of people? Fuck yeah. You’re hired!

  Leaning in, I studied the scene closely and gripped the dildo harder in my hand. Chills ran up my spine as I realized what was going on. Two guys carried a dead body to the back of a trunk. Another one hosed down a large puddle of blood near tire tracks.

  Oh, my God! They killed someone. Fuck! I knew I heard shots. Did he do it himself or someone else? What am I doing? I’ve got to get out of here. He’s going to kill me, too. Stay over? Yeah, right. He’s waiting to figure out a way to get me. He’s coming up with a plan!

  “MJ?” Fuji called on the other side of the door.

  Shrieking, I jumped. I must’ve been pretty loud, because Noah looked up at the window, spotted me, and glared. Whereas, the other men continued their duties. My whole body tensed with anxiety. Putting on an awkward smile, I waved at Noah and backed the fuck away. The curtains slid back to hide my view.

  I’ve got to get out of here! I’ve got to get out of here!

  “MJ?!” Fuji yelled again.

  “What the fuck, man?” My hands shook. “I mean. . .yes, Fuji?”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Of course.” My voice cracked. “Yep. Just seeing this as a nice little vacation.

  “Good. So who’s your favorite comedian ?” he asked.

  Blood on the streets. A body in their hands. I’m next. I’m going to die. I’ve got to do something.

  “Uh, favorite comedian? I love them all.” I hurried to the door and paced back and forth, trying to think of a way past Fuji. In my hand, I still gripped the huge dildo.

  I can’t go out the window, because Noah’s out there with the dead body. It wouldn’t be a big deal for him to just sling my dumb ass right next to the corpse and drive us both off into the sunset.

  “I love Scott Tod. I was sad when he committed suicide. He was so funny,” Fuji admitted. “I still can’t see how a person can hang themselves.”

  “Me, too.” Still pacing, I practiced swinging the dildo like a bat. Never good at baseball, I could still hit a person in the head just right, if I needed to.

  “They said he was depressed. What do you think?” Fuji asked. “Are most comedians depressed?”

  “No way. That’s an ugly rumor. Crazy sure. Druggies and alcoholics, maybe. Sexual degenerates, always. But we’re not all depressed. And truthfully, my friend has me plugged into this conspiracy theory about Scott Todd’s death.” I swung the dildo again. It whipped in the air.

  “What’s the conspiracy?” Fuji asked.

  “They found Scott in a chair with a belt around his neck. The other side of the belt was wedged inside a closet door.”

  “You think he did that so he wouldn’t stop himself?”

  “I don’t know. My friend is close to convincing me that Scott might’ve been into auto asphyxiation.”

  “What?”

  “Choking yourself for sexual arousal. Think about it. Scott Todd was sitting in a chair. Don’t you sit in a chair to masturbate?” I frowned and stared at the big dildo in my hand. “In fact, don’t answer that, Fuji. Too weird. But yeah, maybe Todd’s family covered it up. Something leaking like that would ruin his whole legacy for others.”

  “Would it ruin his legacy for you?”

  “Hell no. Scott Todd was brilliant. A fucking legend. Who cares if he got off in crazy ways. As long as he’s not messing with kids or raping drugged women, we’re cool.” I hit the air one more time.

  Okay. You can do this.

  “Hey, Fuji.” I gripped the dildo hard. “Knock. Knock.”

  “Huh?”

  “Knock. Knock.”

  “Oh. Who’s there?” he asked.

  “Open the door,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “Open the door and peek in, Fuji.”

  “What?”

  “Would you just open the freaking door and peek in. I have something to show you.”

  He laughed a little. The door knob turned. So sorry, buddy. The big guy poked his fat face in, and I slammed the dildo against his temple.

  He grabbed his head and screamed, “Motherfucker!”

  “Sorry, Fuji.” I beat him again and again on his head. Not that fast, he tried to grab the thing from me, but I kept jumping out of the way and the dildo was so long.

  I beat at his head again. “You really are cool, but I have to survive!”

  “Fuck! That hurts!” He punched out at the air. “Stop that!”

  All he had to do was move out of the doorway. Rubbing the top of his head, he stalked forward and I really gave it to him.

  “Don’t hate me for this,” I screeched.

  “For what?”

  I gave the swing all that I had and bat at his crotch.

  Got him.

  “MJ!” Fuji grabbed the area with both hands and crumbled to the floor. “You. . .B-word!”

  Awww. Even in pain, he’s respectful.

  “I really, really am sorry, Fuji.” I raced around him fast. He tried to grab my ankles, but I was too quick. Thank, God for my satanic track coach who pushed me too hard on some Saturday mornings when it was too cold to be alive and damned sure too freezing to move. He made us run sprints—rain or shine.

  I made it out of the bedroom and glanced over my shoulder. There was no way Fuji would catch me. He’d collapsed to the ground and still rubbed his groin as he moaned.

  I’m fucking out of here! All I’ve got to do is get to the door, rush down the stairs, speed through the club to the front, bust out, and never freaking look back. Noah has my wallet and phone. Fine. I’ll change my name. I’ll move. I’ll disappear. I’ll do anything, but let myself—

  And then the front door opened and I slammed right into Noah’s hard chest. His face portrayed the very definition of anger, and I knew that my destiny would be a skin peeling or worst.

  Chapter 4

  Mary Jane

  A misogynist paid his last respects at the tomb of his dead wife.

  When someone asked him, "Who has gone to rest?"

  he replied, "Me, now that I'm alone."

  –Philogelos (The Laughter Lover)

  In a flash, Noah grabbed my arms and slammed me up against the wall. Not too hard, but enough to know that he had power and wasn’t playing around.

  And now I die.

  Fuji groaned some more in the back and then noises of movement came next, indicating to me that the big guy was getting up.

  What am I going to do now?

  With Noah’s hands gripping my arms and him barely three inches away from me, I could not run or get away. The most hopeless part of the whole situation was that he just stood there with me up against the wall. His face looked even more perfect this close up. I almost turned away, but couldn’t.

  Noah stayed there in front of me, silent and seething. Those cold blue eyes digging deep down i
nto my soul. He could’ve been a sexy man, if he wasn’t a killer. In another situation, he could’ve made my panties wet with that gaze and had me doing the nastiest things. But logic wouldn’t let me relish in that gorgeous face—chiseled and sculpted, smooth and so definitely masculine. Logic told me to claw his smooth skin up the first chance I could get and run away.

  He stayed quiet.

  I decided to say something, “I-I’m. . .”

  Noah cocked his head to the side. “Sorry? Is that what you are? You’re sorry?”

  “Very much.”

  “Trust me. You’re not that sorry right now, but soon you will be.” He tightened his grip on my arms and leaned in closer, hiding his face and placing it on the side of mine like we were lovers embracing.

  I trembled. “Please, let me go?”

  “You smell good. Really good in fact.” He sniffed the curve of my neck. “It makes me want to eat you.”

  I trembled against him. It wasn’t solely fear that caused my body to shiver. His words eat you sounded nasty and vile. A movie played out in my head. A dark porno. Him ripping my clothes off, tearing away my jeans, lifting me up against the wall, and pounding into my sex, over and over, until I screamed his name.

  My breathing transformed into rushed panting.

  He whispered in my ear, “Why is there a dildo in your hand?”

  Not even realizing I still held it, I dropped it quick. “I. . .”

  “Were you getting horny? Playing with yourself and Fuji interrupted, saw the beautiful sight of your pussy, and got blinded with horniness. Is that how you seized the opportunity to run away?”

  “It wasn’t exactly like that.”

  “You must tell me the story,” Noah whispered. “Fuji is no punk. He’s held men captive with no problem. Most bigger than you. When they get out of line, bruises mar their faces. If they continue, he snaps their necks. How are you able to make a fool out of him?”

  “I don’t know. I’m really not that good apparently. You’ve got me now.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve had you the whole time, but yes,” He inhaled me again, “And now I’ve really got you. Stop avoiding the question. Why were you holding that dildo?”

  “It was my weapon.”

  “You hit my soldier with a big, black dick?”