RedBone

by Styles, T.

  After she left Randy, she wasn’t single for long, because a few months later she ran into Zone Miller. He was a dark-skinned brother who had a passion for red bones with fat pink pussies and round asses. Farah fit the bill perfectly. It didn’t take him long to make her wifey and to lace her up in the finest gear. Stuff was going great between Farah and Zone, and she didn’t think life could get sweeter. Zone wasn’t as demanding as Randy in the bedroom; he didn’t need to beat her, choke her, or spit in her face to bust a nut. Instead he spoiled her rotten, flaunted her around the city, and put her up in Platinum Loft apartments: the flyest complex in her old stomping grounds. It was still smack dab in the middle of the hood, the place she lived all her life. DC was on the verge of a rejuvenation project, and if you didn’t have the cash to support the move, you would get moved out.

  Every now and again, Randy would call when she was with Zone, but she never stepped outside of the relationship. Farah considered Randy a pest until Zone got locked up for being caught with a few ounces of cocaine. Suddenly Randy’s calls weren’t so worrisome anymore. She was willing to do anything to prevent moving back with Brownie, even if that meant giving Randy a little violent pussy from time to time. For the entire year while Zone was incarcerated, Randy laced her up and paid her rent. He even splurged and bought her a Benz, provided they could get down the way he liked it in the bedroom. Things went smooth until Zone was released from prison on a technicality.

  Farah continued to fuck Randy on the low, until Zone started hearing things in the neighborhood. He immediately checked the situation, and demanded she straighten up or bounce. A few days ago, Farah decided to comply, after she got one last payday from Randy. This time the money wasn’t for designer shoes or purses. She was awful with money but she had plans to use this cash for a purpose. She needed $1,600 to give to Grand Mike, a holistic practitioner who could help her with her illness. She’d gotten the name from her cousin Cosmo, who was locked up for multiple homicides. However, Grand Mike was strict with his schedule, saying, “You miss the appointment, you miss your chance.”

  Tears rolled down her face as she tried to reach her destination without him tailing her. Her nails dug into the steering wheel and she feared for her life. Please don’t kill me, she thought. I don’t wanna die.

  “Where you going anyway, Farah? I mean, maybe you should pull over and call the police.” Farah was so delirious that she forgot Coconut was on the phone.

  “I can’t do that!” she screamed. “I got somewhere to be.”

  “I sure hope wherever you gotta be is worth dying for, Coconut said. ’Cause if it was me, I’d have that nigga locked up with the quickness.”

  “Bitch, you making shit worse! I’ll call you back!” Farah ended the call and threw her iPhone on the passenger seat.

  Their relationship had changed drastically over the years because Farah was different. She was more outspoken and she’d formed a tougher layer inside and out. Her relationship with Brownie—after she smeared shit over her face, and after learning the coach was her biological father—changed her for the worse. She started avoiding Brownie most times, and Mia took over her motherly responsibilities. From the background Elise would do the best she could to instill values in Farah, but as the years rolled by, she was so far gone that her grandmother’s words bored her to death. It was Mia who she looked up to, and it was also Mia who toughened her up. Farah was no longer afraid of fighting, although she preferred not to because it brought out emotions. Farah’s motto was to keep your game face on, and protect your feelings at all times; that way nobody could hurt you. That one trait made her appealing to people because she was aloof. Although she changed, two things remained the same: she was still obsessed with her looks, and she was still obsessed with Coconut’s friendship.

  When her phone rang she looked at the passenger seat. Randy’s name flashed on the screen. When she looked in the rearview mirror, he waved his phone, indicating he wanted her to answer. Hoping she could talk some sense into him, she picked up the phone and accepted the call. “Randy, why are you doing this to me?” Snot ran out of her nose and entered her mouth. “You gonna kill me. You gotta keep it light and relax.” Farah had stolen Coconut’s quote, and virtually ran in into the ground by using it every day. She said it so much that Coconut now hated the phrase.

  Real calmly he said, “You think you can take my money and blow me off like I’m some bimbo-ass nigga? Bitch, I will kill you first.” His words caused her head to throb and she could feel an outbreak coming on. Farah threw the phone on the seat again, and focused back on the road. Randy was uncompromising.

  She looked down in her lap and picked up a small piece of white paper. Holding the note in her hand, she examined the address upon it. It was of the man who could save her life. If only she could get rid of her ex-boyfriend, things would be okay. Spotting a police officer, who was giving a ticket to a man in a green Ford Expedition, she pulled over and parked behind them. Randy, seeing this, crept slowly past her and gave her an evil look. From her frosted window she could see him mouth, “It ain’t over, bitch,” right before he sped out of sight. He hated cops and she was counting on it. When she felt Randy was far enough away, she took a few moments to catch her breath before pulling back into traffic.

  Fifteen minutes later she was in front of a dilapidated brick building. Her temples throbbed terribly and her stomach churned. Gas escaped her body, spraying the scent of rotten eggs throughout the car. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. Parked, she looked at the paper in her hand again before her eyes rolled over the run-down dwelling. She couldn’t imagine anything of value being inside, but this was her last hope. Before getting out and battling the winter storm, she zipped her black leather jacket, and adjusted the rearview mirror to look at herself. Although makeup hid most of the marks on her face from a recent outbreak she’d endured, it wasn’t good enough. Her light complexion would only get worse if something didn’t give.

  Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her phone and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Then she snatched her large brown Gucci purse out of the back seat, and placed her hand on the door handle. Before getting out, she checked her surroundings to be sure Randy wasn’t lingering around, because the last thing she needed was him running up on her. When she was sure the coast was clear, she moved toward the building and her black Ugg boots trudged through six inches of recently fallen snow.

  Once at the building, she pulled on the door’s cold handle, but it wouldn’t open. Her brown eyes peered through the wired window, looking for anyone. It was dark inside and she wondered if she was at the right place. She checked the address, stepped back, and looked up at the numbers on the building. They matched. Thinking she didn’t use enough force, she pulled the door’s handle again, and again it didn’t open. She was carrying $1,600 that belonged to him, provided he was able to give her the help she needed. She was so desperate to look normal that she was willing to part with such a large sum of cash without having seen any results. Her beauty was more important to her than air filling her lungs. This illness was inconvenient and extremely painful, and she would give anything to be done with it all together.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! She knocked heavily at the locked door. Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “Let me in!” she screamed. “Open this fucking door!” She pulled on the handle again, and although the door rattled loudly, it wouldn’t budge.

  The temperature was well below twenty degrees, yet the hypoallergenic makeup on her face began to streak from sweat pouring off her forehead. It tickled her skin, causing her to wipe it away along with some of her makeup. He was her last hope. She’d seen what the illness did to her mother, and how it made her look like a monster, forcing her to live miserable and alone. Dr. Martin promised that if she followed his orders her condition would get better, but nothing he did seemed to work. He was a liar and she was tired of hearing his fucking mouth. At the rate her illness was progressing, it would eat at her face so much that after a while
she would be able to do nothing but play a role in a horror film.

  Crying heavily she turned around, and her back fell against the metal door before the seat of her True Religion jeans slapped against the icy, wet step. When her phone rang it startled her and she pulled it out of her jacket pocket. It was Chloe. Farah reluctantly answered. “Yes, Chloe?”

  “When are you coming home? I wanted to come over so I can borrow your pink shoes.”

  “Girl, I’m busy right now. Plus it’s snowing and I’m outside. I don’t want my phone to get wet.”

  “Ugh ... I hate when you act like a bitch!” Chloe hung up. Farah wiped the wetness off her phone and tucked it back inside her leather jacket. Tears fell from her eyes, and snowflakes fell onto her face before melting against her warm skin. All was lost, and she resigned to the fact that she may end up like her mother, partially confined to bed and lonely. She was just about to stand up and go home when a black man in a wheelchair opened the door, causing her body to fall inside. His face was dark and ashy and he didn’t have any teeth in his mouth. The hair on his head was thick and wooly, and pieces of lint were littered throughout it.

  “Was that you banging on the door? Like you lost your mind?”

  Farah jumped up, brushed the snow off the back of her wet jeans, and smiled. “Yes, I’m ... sorry. But I’m here to see ...” She searched for the piece of paper with the address, which she’d slept with for two days in a row. When she spotted it on the wet ground, she picked it up and tried to read the blue ink, which was now smeared. It wasn’t like she didn’t know his name. She’d remembered it along with the address, although at the moment her memory escaped her. “Grand Mike. That’s his name. Do you know him?”

  “I know him. The name’s Dexter,” he responded as if asking, “you got his money?”

  She dug in her purse and pulled out a white bank envelope. “It’s right here.” Her fingers trembled and the cash almost plummeted from her hands.

  “Give it to me.” He reached out for the envelope.

  She snatched it back. “Uh ... if you don’t mind, I’d really like to see him first.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, come in. I ain’t got all fucking day!”

  She was just about to put one foot over the threshold when she spotted roaches crawling all over the hallway floor and walls. Bugs of any kind repulsed her so much that she would often have panic attacks that would result in an outbreak. Sensing she wasn’t behind him, he turned his wheelchair around and faced her. “Are you coming in or not?”

  “Huh?” Her eyes looked at his, and then at the bugs moving around as if they ran the place. “What you say?”

  Insensitive about the fear in her eyes he gave it to her straight. “Look, you’re already late! Don’t take up more of my time with your shit! Now what you gonna do?”

  “But I ... I’m scared ...” She pointed at the walls. “I never seen so many—”

  “Leave now!” he interrupted her before he rolled toward the elevator.

  “Wait!” She sobbed. “I’m ... I’m coming.” Farah walked in slowly and a bug fell off the ceiling and onto the floor in her pathway. “Ahh!” she screamed, jumping around, shaking her hair and tugging at her clothes. “Did it fall on me?” Dexter shook his head, laughed, and hit the button for the elevator. When it dinged and opened, Farah dodged inside, and waited impatiently for the doors to close.

  When the elevator doors shut, he looked up at her and said, “You must not be from DC.”

  “I am,” she said, “and I ain’t never see no shit like this before.” She looked around the elevator, which seemed less harmful than the hallway.

  He laughed. “You do know they more afraid of us than we are of them, don’t you?”

  When the elevator dinged and opened on the second floor, every muscle in her body tensed as she prayed a bug wouldn’t fall on her. So many roaches crawled around the floor that they looked like patterns against the grey tiles. Spiders in their silky webs hung in the corners of the ceilings and chips of brown paint barely clung to the walls. When he rolled out of the elevator, she ran behind him and the bugs crunched under her feet like potato chips. When they approached apartment 216, her heart thumped in her chest, as she hoped Grand Mike would open the door before she panicked and passed out. Instead of knocking, Dexter removed a gold key from his funky brown boot, and opened the door to an apartment so gruesome and squalid that she was starting to believe that the holistic practitioner couldn’t possibly live there.

  Still, she followed him inside. “Wait over there,” Dexter said, pointing at an area not too far from the door. “I’ll go get him.” The door slammed behind her and she examined it, wondering if she could leave if she desired. Her eyes roamed over a red couch with dirt on the armrests, and a blue rug with so many stains on it that it resembled unorganized leopard spots. Fifteen minutes later a tall, dark-skinned black man exited a room and walked slowly toward her. He was wearing a white T-shirt and his ashy elbows looked like someone had rubbed chalk on them, like the tip of a pool stick.

  “Are you Farah Cotton?” he asked.

  She noticed that, just like Dexter, he didn’t have any teeth, and she figured they must be crack addicts. She doubted his skills seriously at this point, and would’ve run back out the door if her cousin didn’t swear that he had what she needed. “Yes. I’m Farah.”

  “I see your face is bad. You had an outbreak recently?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “A few days ago.”

  “So you really need me, don’t you?”

  She placed her hand softly on her cheek, realizing the makeup must be coming off. “Yes. I do.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Next time be on time because every second of my life is precious and I waste it for no one,” he said, examining the authentic silver Rolex watch on his arm. “Not even you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She felt awkward. “But you wouldn’t believe what I went through to get here. I came as fast as I could.”

  “You got my shit?”

  “Yes.” Farah imbibed the clumpy phlegm that formed in her throat.

  He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

  She gave him the money and he counted it in front of her. When he reached the last bill he smiled slyly, looked up at her, and said, “It’s all here. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Yeah, right.

  He pointed at the sofa. “Over there.”

  Farah slogged toward the dirty couch, and her body sank into the cushion. It was in bad condition and she wanted to stand, but was too scared to move. Roaches crawled around her wet Ugg boots and she cringed. Please, God. Please don’t let them crawl on me. She stomped her feet a few quick times and they scurried out of her way. The filthiness of his place was killing her. Grand Mike moved toward a room on the opposite end of the door he exited, and Dexter rolled back into the living room and smiled at Farah. His grin was out of place, considering he’d cursed her just minutes earlier.

  When Grand Mike knocked on another door within the apartment, a white woman opened it. She had on a pair of Tony the Tiger scrubs and she smiled awkwardly at Farah. Not knowing what else to do, Farah smiled back. When the door opened wider, she saw a young black girl sitting on a hospital bed. She seemed zoned out and high and Farah wondered if she had the same illness. Grand Mike walked inside the room, and closed the door behind him. What the fuck is going on? she thought. Who are these people really?

  Twenty minutes later, Grand Mike reappeared with a white cooler in his hands. “This is enough for a six-month supply.” Farah stood up and walked toward him. “Contact me a month before you run out, because I have to prepare what you need in advance.”

  “What is it?”

  One of his eyebrows raised. “What exactly are you asking me?”

  “I mean ... I’m asking, what you giving me?”

  “Something to clear up your complexion and keep your disease at bay. Ain’t that what you came for?”

  “Yes.”


  “Okay then.” He gave a toothless grin. “And don’t bother telling your doctor about this, because he’ll tell you it won’t work. And if I find out you told him anything about me, I may be liable to come looking for you. You understand what I’m saying?” He handed her the cooler. “Take it once a day by mouth.” He looked at Dexter, who rolled up next to them. “If you come here and I’m not available, Dexter here can help you.” She looked down at him. “You’ll have to get some dry ice to keep it cold and it has to remain chilled. He handed her a card. “You can buy your dry ice from this place, because it’s hard to find. Any questions?”

  She tucked the card in her purse. “Does this really work?”

  He laughed, revealing his toothless grin once more. “If you believe in it, it will.”

  She didn’t understand why he was being so secretive. If her cousin hadn’t told her about his services, she wouldn’t be standing in front of him, so somebody had to tell her something. Although her illness was rare, it wasn’t illegal. So what, she decided to go through unconventional means to get help? Her doctor’s medicine and orders were not working. She had to do what was best for her and she hoped it would work.

  Farah rushed through the hallway of the Platinum Loft apartments, her icy-cold hands carrying the cooler tightly, for fear it would fall and break. Finally, after so many years, she had an answer to the rare disease. “Porpia,” she said, “I won’t have to worry about you for much longer.” Her heart was filled with hope and excitement and that alone was worth the money.

  Holding the cooler in her left hand, she rustled through her purse for the key to her apartment. Tonight would be special now that she was in a pleasant mood. If Zone wanted, Farah was going to allow him to stick his dick in every hole in her body. When he was done she would prepare baked chicken, cheddar cheese spinach, and buttered rice, just the way he liked it. Locating the key, she placed it in the keyhole and turned the knob. A smile spread across her face as she searched for her man inside their lavish apartment. When she spotted him sitting across the room at the computer, she felt warm and tingly inside. That was, until she was dumbstruck as she witnessed him in a world of his own. His back faced her direction, but she saw the pinkness of a woman’s slick vagina in HD on the computer screen. Her fingers went in and out of her pussy as she cooed and moaned. Zone responded to the cyber show he was receiving by beating his stiff penis. She walked into the apartment and the door closed softly behind her as she placed the cooler against the wall.