Crazy Summer

by Cole Hart

  Chapter 6

  Red Bone sat at the foot of her bed wearing panties and a long pink t-shirt that was bunched around her waist. The room was dark, but she managed to use the light from the TV to roll her joint. She crushed up a small piece of rock and sprinkled it from one end of the joint to the other. A horrible odor hung in the air, stale sex mixed with sweaty body musk. She sat through it as if roses dominated the air.

  After rolling her joint, she stood up and brushed the crumbs from her clothes. No more than ten minutes ago, she’d smoked one and didn’t bother letting the high wear off. She scanned the bed searching for her lighter, her small fingers crawling over the sheets. Her eyes went to the floor, where she had dropped it. She bent over to pick it up, placed the joint between her lips, and struck the lighter. The small flame gave the room a glow that made her eyebrows bunch together. At the same time she lit the joint, the house phone rang. Ignoring it, she smoked freely. A new scent filled the room, and the stinking smoke enveloped her.

  The phone continued to ring, but she never thought about answering it. When the answering machine clicked on, she walked toward the nightstand to listen at the message.

  “Red Bone, this is Summa. I’m locked up in the county jail for aggravated assault on some bitch I don’t even know. You know I’m on probation, and I need a lawyer. Can you help me?”

  Red Bone never picked up the phone. Instead, she just sat there smoking her joint while staring into space. She licked her cracked lips and realized the joint had gone out. She put the fire to it again and pulled on it, the rush slamming into her brain cells. Her eyes became teary, not from emotions but from her high. She leaned back on the bed, when suddenly her phone rang again. Her head turned toward the nightstand, her eyes glowing. It continued to ring, and she continued to look at it. Again, Summer’s voice filled the room from the answering machine.

  “Red Bone, if you home, please pick up. Can you go ‘round da corner and talk to Danté fo’ me? Tell him where I’m at and that I need a lawyer.”

  Spaced out, Red Bone refused to answer the phone, but not because she didn’t want to talk to Summer. Paranoia had taken control of her to the point where she didn’t know where to turn. She finally closed her eyes and decided to get some rest.

  *****

  The next morning, Summer was out of her cell and anxious to get on the phone. She moved gracefully, even though she was clad in the county blues and had her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. The wall held four payphones one beside another and just above her was a wall of Plexiglas where the officers monitored the women. She picked up the phone and got ready to dial, when one of the officers beat his fist against the glass. Out of instinct, she glanced up. When the officer pointed at her, she pointed at herself to make sure he was talking to her. He nodded and directed her to the sally port.

  She placed the phone’s receiver back on the hook and moved to the thick doors that opened one at a time. Once she was out in the corridor, she noticed a tall, gray-haired white man sitting on the other side of a glass wall. He waved and motioned for her to come in. When she reached the door, it clicked from somewhere beyond her eyesight. Once inside, the guy introduced himself as Attorney Gene Rudolph. They shook hands and sat opposite of each other, with Summer leaning on the wooden table with her elbows.

  “Did somebody hire you?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he replied, “but I was told not to tell you who hired me.”

  She was relieved a little, but still a little disappointed. The muscles in her face relaxed, and she almost smiled. Attorney Rudolph began flipping through loose sheets of paper, while Summer sat there examining his attire, which consisted of a gray pinstripe suit, a white shirt, and a silk tie. She noticed his wedding band and his manicured nails.

  “You’re on felony probation for theft,” he said, while reading through some paperwork. Then he added, “You were stealing from Riche’s Department Store? Good taste.” He looked up, smiling.

  “How long I got to stay here?” she asked.

  “First, I would like to know what happened between you and April Floyd.”

  She took a deep breath and started explaining. “I was at a motel wit’ dis’ dude named Frank, and when we got ready to leave, I guess it was his girlfriend that rammed the back of his Cherokee. She got out cryin’ and shit, and came toward me ready to fight. So, I cut her.”

  “And that was it?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. I ran after that.”

  “How many days have you been here?”

  “This my third day.”

  He nodded with his mouth curving up, as if he had a plan.

  “Listen, I can get you bond today. But, if you can stay in here until Friday, I’ll get this charge dropped and your probation reinstated.”

  She frowned. “Friday?”

  “I know,” he said calmly. “It could be worse, though. You gotta work with me here.”

  She dropped her head in disgust and realized what she was facing. Today was only Tuesday.

  Three more days won’t be too bad, she thought.

  She looked at the lawyer and nodded okay. They talked a little while longer, and then he left. She returned to population and caught up on the soaps.

  It was Thursday morning when Summer and three other women were called out and escorted downstairs to the medical station. They waited patiently in a small room that smelled of fresh bleach. The floors were waxed to a high shine, almost clear enough for them to see wrinkles underneath their eyes. Summer didn’t bother to take a seat with the other three women, and just her luck, her name was called first.

  “Summer McKey!” a nurse yelled from around the corner.

  Summer’s eyes widened for a second, and her heart thumped rapidly. As she walked down the short corridor, a nurse waited for her at a door on the left. The nurse was short with blonde hair hanging just below her shoulders. Her skin was tanned and smooth. She wore a white overcoat, jeans, and Nikes, and she held a clipboard pressed against her chest.

  “Good morning,” she greeted with a smile.

  Summer smiled and said, “Hey.”

  A touch of nervousness rose in her voice as her eyes darted around the small room. There were several charts on each of the four walls, and the one that spelled out AIDS and HIV really made her nervous. She sat down on a cushioned bed. It was shorter than the one in her cell, but looked very comfortable.

  “You’re here for your physical, Miss McKey,” the lady said while placing a band around her arm to check her blood pressure. “I understand you have two children.”

  She nodded. “Twin boys,” she said proudly.

  “And you’re only seventeen?”

  “Yep,” she said, then added, “How long will dis take?”

  “I would like to get some blood samples and run a few tests. Is that okay?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care.”

  “It’s your health, Miss McKey.”

  She shrugged. Her attitude was unbelievable.

  Chapter 7

  “Either you gonna have an abortion, Summa, or you gonna move out!” Mrs. Diane shouted through the house.

  Her anger showed on her face as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her blood pressure was rising by the minute. She walked through the house and opened Summer’s bedroom door, and to her surprise, she saw her daughter packing her kids’ clothes and a few pieces of clothing for herself. Summer stopped for a moment and stared at her mother, her eyes flaming red with anger.

  “I’ll leave yo’ house, Mama.”

  “Can we talk first?” Mrs. Diane had calmed down. She didn’t want her daughter to leave, at least not with the twins.

  Summer didn’t respond. By now, she was crying and hurt, as well. Her mother came closer to her and tried to grab her hand, but Summer snatched it back.

  With her eyes squinted, she said, “I’m leavin’.” Her teeth were grinding together.

  “Where you gonna stay, Summa?”

  “Not here.”

&nbs
p; “Well, at least leave the twins until you get yaself situated.”

  “Dey my babies. I had ‘em, not you, and I’m keepin’ dis one too!” she screamed while continuing to pack.

  Mrs. Diane leaned against the wall with her arms folded across her breasts. She was sniffling and crying like a child. She begged Summer not to leave. She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want her daughter out in the streets with her grandbabies. She definitely felt sorry for them because she knew Summer was still a baby herself. In her eyes, Summer wasn’t qualified to be a mother.

  She watched Summer pick up the phone and make a call. The twins went over to their grandmother, each grabbing a leg. Their eyes were so innocent, and it hurt her just to look at them. Her heart skipped a beat. She looked back at Summer, who was now off the phone.

  “Will I be able to see y’all?” she asked.

  “When I get settled, I’ll call you.” Summer turned, grabbed the suitcases, and carried them toward the front door. She returned to the room to grab two small duffle bags, placing one on each shoulder. She stopped in front of Mrs. Diane. They stared at each other, both crying, and they hugged.

  “I’m sorry, Summa.”

  “I know, Mama, but I’ma be okay.”

  “You ain’t got to leave, baby,” Mrs. Diane said through her tears. “I was jus’ upset. Please stay,” she begged.

  “I’ll be ‘round da’ corna until I get my own place.”

  “I don’t want my babies ‘round there wit’ dat stuff.”

  They departed when a car horn blew out front. Summer took her boys and headed into her future. She left her mother’s house and was now on a mission for a better life.

  Outside, Red Bone waited in the driver’s seat of a rental that Chris had gotten for her. When she saw Summer come out on the front porch with the luggage, she popped the trunk and got out to help her. After they loaded everything in the car, including the kids, they left. When they got to Red Bone’s house, there wasn’t anybody there except for the two of them and the kids. Summer took one end of the sofa, and Red Bone sat at the other.

  “Why you leave yo’ mama’s house?” Red Bone asked, concerned.

  Summer took a deep breath and swallowed hard. As she stared toward the floor, she mumbled, “I’m pregnant.”

  “Again?”

  Summer shot Red Bone a deadly look. “Yeah, again.” Venom followed her words.

  “By who?”

  She shrugged. “Either Frank or Danté.”

  “And you gonna have it?”

  There was a short pause. “I want to.”

  “Summa, you trippin’, baby girl. It’s hard enough on you as it is, and you talkin’ ‘bout havin’ another one?”

  She took in every word Red Bone had said, and then she finally said, “If it’s Danté’s, I’ll have it. At least I know he’ll help me take care of it.”

  “When you gonna tell him?”

  “I’m jus’ gonna be straight up wit’ him,” she said.

  Red Bone took a deep breath while shaking her head side to side. Her finger waves were neatly in place. Her bright red lipstick was lined evenly. She stood up and grabbed the phone.

  “You need to start makin’ dem niggas use a rubber,” she stated and then threw Summer the cordless phone.

  Summer caught it, and her eyes darted around the room while her heart started to throb inside her chest. Then she begin dialing.

  The bedroom was dark at Danté’s house. His windows were covered with thick wool blankets. Too Short’s vulgar lyrics were screaming in the background from his home system. The colorful lights moved horizontal, and incense gave off a smooth cherry flavor that smothered the room. His private house line rang, causing him to move slightly and moan. When the ringing continued, he extended his arm to grab the phone.

  “Yeah,” he answered, his eyes still closed.

  “Danté.”

  “What?”

  “Can you talk fo’ a minute?”

  He breathed deep. He was tired from being in the trap all night. He opened his eyes and looked at the red digital numbers on the clock, which read 10:03. He flipped over on his back, the bed sheet covering him from the waist down.

  “I’m listenin’,” he said.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Another deep breath followed a muffled growl.

  “You think it’s mine?”

  “It’s a strong possibility.”

  “Where you at now?” he asked.

  “At Red Bone’s house. I’ma be stayin’ here fo’ a while.”

  “Why you leave yo’ mama’s house?”

  “‘Cause I’m pregnant.”

  Danté sat up and cut on the light. Frowning, he stood up and yawned, making a raged animal sound.

  “I’m finna come get cha, okay?”

  “Alright.”

  He hung up and sat back on the bed. It took him a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He knew he had slept with Summer three nights in a row, and each time he didn’t use a condom. But how many other niggas has she been fuckin’? he thought to himself.

  A week later, the test results came back, and it was confirmed that Danté was indeed the father. Relieved, Summer breathed a little more easily.

  As Danté sat next to her in the doctor’s office, he looked at Summer for a moment, and with a half grin, he said, “I’m glad we got dat straight.”

  “Why you say dat?” she asked, but gave a smile of relief.

  Danté stood up, his Guess jeans sagging and revealing dark green silk boxers. He wore a wife beater that showed off his small, chiseled frame. Her eyes followed him. She liked his physique, his thick veins bulging through his arms.

  She stood up beside him. “You neva did answer me.”

  “I’m jus’ glad it’s straight, dat’s all,” he said, then quickly changed the subject. “I know Rodney gonna trip out,” he added.

  Summer didn’t respond. She knew her brother Rodney was close to Danté; they were both three years older than her. Danté respected Rodney and knew he had to respect his little sister.

  Since they were finished at the doctor’s office, she grabbed his hand, and they left together. When they got inside Danté’s Cutlass, he started the engine and turned the volume down on his system.

  “You ain’t stayin’ at Red Bone’s crib either,” he simply said.

  Chapter 8

  The Christmas tree stood six feet tall and was neatly decorated with multi-colored lights that blinked from the top to the bottom. Underneath it were several presents in green and red wrapping paper. The house they were now living in was located in a quiet subdivision called Farrington. Danté figured if he was going to be a father, he didn’t want to be living in the same neighborhood where he handled his business. He knew Barton Village had gotten out of control, and he’d help contribute to the cause. This was the end of 1990, and he’d had a good summer there almost profiting five thousand a night. He’d done well for himself. The three bedrooms cost almost seventy thousand, which he put seven grand down on, and the house was in Summer’s name. They lived together; she was happy and so was he. Their relationship just kind of developed. In our terminology, they clicked.

  Upstairs, their master bedroom was decorated with expensive wood furniture from Rhodes. The bed was king-sized with hand-carved bedposts that almost touched the ceiling. Polo pillowcases and sheets lined the bed. A Sony forty-inch TV with an attached VCR faced them. The dresser sat against the right wall, polished to a beautiful shine with shiny brass handles. The mirror was nearly five feet wide and just as high.

  Summer lay on her side. This was a very comfortable position for her considering she was already six months into her pregnancy. She snuggled up against Danté, who was asleep, but he drew her closer and held on to her. The baby kicked. He didn’t feel it, but she asked him if he had anyway. After telling her no in his half asleep state, he found her lips and kissed her softly. She forced her tongue inside his mouth, causing him to fully wake, and his hands trac
ed every curve of her body from her firm, dark brown breasts down to her ass. He touched between her legs where she was already wet and warm. She moaned at the touch of his long fingers and gently bit the corner of her lip. He was hard when she grabbed him. She climbed on top, positioning herself on his penis and slowly working him inside. There was no sex like pregnant sex. It was the best in the world to any man. Danté came in less than five minutes. She humped him softly; she wasn’t about to let him get off that easy.

  “It’s over, baby,” he said, smiling.

  “Don’t play wit’ me, Danté.”

  He laughed. “You caught me off guard.”

  Still, she continued rotating her hips, moving faster now. Her heart was racing just as fast. When she finally climaxed, she smirked and punched his chest. He laughed again.

  “You crazy as hell,” he said, then added, “Let’s go open some Christmas presents.”

  She smiled, got up slowly, and wobbled into the bathroom. It didn’t take her long to wash. She came back into their room with a hot, soapy washcloth in her hand. Without warning, she went to Danté and gently cleaned his private parts for him. He lay there grinning with his hands underneath his head. The hot rag felt good to him, made his toes curl.

  “You must know I got you somethin’ good fo’ Christmas.”

  She smiled, leaned up, and kissed him. “I’ma go check on da twins,” she whispered.

  Danté got up and slipped on a pair of shorts. After Summer covered herself in a robe, they walked to the twin’s room together. Their room was average size; the walls were painted blue and trimmed in white. Huge posters of Michael Jordan hung on one wall and Jerry Rice on the other. More toys than the both of them could play with were scattered throughout the room. Each of them slept in separate twin beds. Jermaine had Spiderman sheets. Jeremy had the Hulk. When they entered the room, neither of them was in their bed.

  “Them lil’ niggas are already downstairs,” Danté said.

  When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Summer smiled when she saw her two boys trying to pass a Nurf football to each other. Jeremy was left-handed and Jermaine was right. They stood about three feet apart from each other, and neither one of them had caught the ball yet.