Careful What You Click For

by Mary B. Morrison

  No falser words had been spoken. Kingston totally understood. The time had come for him to face his own reality. He had to publicly announce he was gay. Or pray for God to help him for the rest of his life suppress his urge to have sex with men, and seek fulfillment with Monet. If she’d have him.

  What did the man who’d come back to penetrate Kingston again look like? Was he white? Black? What did any of them look like? Kingston didn’t want to see the man’s face, not now or ever. Living with an image of a man who’d violated him meant he’d have to relive seeing that face every day for the rest of his life.

  Kingston felt a hand on his.

  “Oh, my God. Not my idol,” someone said, then asked, “Kingston, can you squeeze my hand?”

  Kingston tried, but his fingers barely moved.

  “Can you turn your head to the opposite side?” someone else asked.

  A fraction of an inch toward the left felt like someone had stabbed him in the nape of his neck with a million ice picks.

  “Okay, don’t move,” the guy told Kingston, then ordered someone, “Get a morphine drip. We’re going to have to heavily sedate him before we can move him out.”

  “I’m going to put the needle in your arm. You may feel a sharp pain,” the paramedic said, then added, “You’re my hero.”

  Kingston was ready. But he was nobody’s hero. And no complete stranger should idolize him.

  “Next I’m going to start administering morphine, and then we’re going to place your body on a gurney, put you in the ambulance, and take you to Grady Hospital. You’re in a safe place now, Mr. Royale.”

  Give all of those trafficking bastards a lethal injection, Kingston thought. He didn’t want God to have mercy upon them. Their souls belonged to Satan. Some people deserved to die. Others, like Kingston, wanted to die because of torturers and bullies, like the ones he’d encountered.

  Human abduction into sex slavery for the love of money, which would be taken away and given to the state. Kingston’s kidnappers hadn’t realized they, too, were in captivity. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

  “Get all of those sons of bitches out of here right now! I’m glad Georgia’s law to prosecute human traffickers to the fullest extent is right on time,” the person presumed to be in charge stated about the state-level decision.

  The so-called heartbeat bill had passed before the law to prosecute human traffickers that made women, men, and minors their sex slaves. Kingston wished he could say something in this moment, but he couldn’t.

  With a deep country accent, another voice said, “This is a good day, boss. The entire motel is swarming. We rescued twenty more sex slaves. Can you believe they’re all black men? Plus, we’ve caught ten more traffickers.”

  Feeling the sunshine on his face, Kingston heard, “Stop! Stop, I said, or I’ll shoot!”

  Whoever it is, Kingston thought, shoot now and don’t miss. No rounds were fired. Why is it that the cruelest people get to surrender and innocent victims are killed?

  “Boss,” a different voice shouted. “We got that motherfucker this time. And he’s going down!”

  “Wait. I have to see this. Y’all caught Langston Derby?” the boss asked.

  “Yee-haw! Sure did. Langston Derby, the ringleader! Finally got that motherfucker!” someone shouted.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” the guy they’d called “boss” said. “I don’t know how Jordan Jackson escaped him. She was his target.”

  “She was next on his list,” someone said. “Langston Derby was circling back to her and he’d arranged to ship her pretty ass overseas.”

  The last words Kingston heard before a sheet was draped over his body were “Damn! Show respect. No media and cameras allowed, people.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Monet

  “Ah, yasssss. Grind deep inside this pussy.” Monet moaned.

  Cairo did. As though he were trying to strike oil.

  It was easier for Monet to let go of the guilt for Kingston after she’d seen the photos in his house in Atlanta. There was too much speculation around who’d done what, and there was the possibility of her getting caught up in his mess. Kingston not relocating her and the girls to the ATL was a blessing she hadn’t prayed for.

  All of Cairo’s Mandingo-ness was inside of her. Cairo rolled his hips from her left butt cheek to her right. Repeating the slow motion, he pressed his thumbs into the arch of her back while holding on to her lower waist. Monet tilted her head back as far as she could. “Pull my hair.” She released a sound that emanated from her gut.

  She wasn’t acting.

  Cairo jerked her hips toward his pelvis, then held her there.

  “That’s right, baby. Let it all out. I got you. And I’m never going to let you go,” Cairo stated.

  Kingston never loved Monet more than she’d loved him. Perhaps it was because he wanted something different, but he hadn’t been man enough to say so. Regardless, after seeing the photos in Kingston’s house, Monet never wanted his dick inside of her pussy again.

  Monet was willing to give Cairo more than her body. She was willing to give him her heart.

  Collapsing onto her stomach, she rolled onto her back, bent her knees, reached for the remote, and turned up the volume on the television.

  Taking the controller from her, Cairo lay on his side, facing Monet. “When are you going to let me meet your girls?” he asked.

  A news report stated: “A human trafficking operation in Atlanta was broken up today by a SWAT team. More than twenty people were arrested. Over twenty victims rescued. Now the hardest part starts with reuniting sexual assault victims with their families. The person over the operation is reportedly cooperating with the police department. With the new law against human traffickers in the state of Georgia, all of the traffickers, if convicted, may spend the rest of their lives behind bars.”

  Monet sat up in the bed, looked down at Cairo.

  “I know you don’t think your brother, Kingston, is involved. Or do you?” Cairo questioned.

  When the time was right, she’d tell him her truth. “Sorry, but I have to go,” Monet stated, teary-eyed.

  “It’s like Groundhog Day. I wish you’d tell me exactly what’s going on so I can help. You don’t have to deal with this by yourself.” Cairo leaned toward the edge of the bed, wrapped his arm around her waist. “Come back to bed. Baby, please. There’s nothing you can do until they contact you.”

  Shaking her head, Monet put on her shoes. Cairo plopped onto the mattress. He didn’t bother getting out of bed to stop Monet from doing what she was going to do, anyway.

  “When you’re ready to talk, I’m willing to listen. Besides, I need to get some work done this morning. You have a nice day.”

  Stepping into her romper, she straightened her ponytail best she could. “I’ll call you later.”

  Cairo didn’t respond. Exiting his home, Monet called her mother from the car.

  Trinity answered, then scolded, “I told you not to let my grandbabies go back to school. Just because you’ve moved on doesn’t mean they can deal with what’s happening with their father. I’m in transit to get the girls. I’ll meet you back at the house.”

  An argument on her end wasn’t happening. Monet wasn’t officially notified that her husband was one of the victims. Kingston could be laid up with a . . . Monet couldn’t say the word in her mind.

  Starting her engine, Monet said, “Thanks.”

  An incoming call registered from Jordan Jackson. Monet told Trinity, “Bye, Mother. I’ll be at the house by the time you get there.”

  Pressing the button on her steering wheel, she ended the conversation and started another. “Was Kingston one of the men?”

  “Yes. I’m at the hospital, but I’m not his relative, so they won’t let me see him. You should’ve come to my office when—”

  Monet interrupted, “I’m a grown woman. Kingston is grown, too—”

  Jordan cut Monet off. “Don’t be that way. You should get here im
mediately. The doctors aren’t sure if he’s going to make it.”

  Monet burst into tears. Cried out loud. Instead of going home, she drove to the airport. As she parked in the short-term lot, a call registered from Bianca.

  “I apologize, Jordan. I’m on my way. I have to catch this call. Text me the information on where Kingston is.”

  “That’s what I—”

  Ending the call with Jordan, crying and shaking, Monet answered, “Hey,” then kept crying.

  If Jordan had contacted her to give her information, she should’ve led with that instead of a tongue-lashing.

  “Where are you?” Bianca asked.

  Monet struggled to speak through sobs and sniffles. Eventually she replied, “At the airport. I have to go to Atlanta.”

  “Not without me,” Bianca insisted. “Drop me a pin. Stay right where you are. I’m on my way.”

  A call from Lilly registered. Monet sent the call directly to voice mail. Cairo called. Her mother called. An unidentifiable number from the 404 area code appeared numerous times. “Stop calling me!” Monet yelled.

  Her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Most of the numbers she didn’t recognize. Afraid someone might tell her Kingston was dead, she dropped a pin to Bianca, then ignored all of the incoming calls.

  Unstrapping her seat belt, Monet curled in her seat into a fetal position.

  A tap on her window startled her. It was her best friend, Bianca.

  “Girl, open this door.” Bianca waited for her to get out of the car. They headed to the ticket counter and purchased two first-class seats on the next flight to Atlanta.

  Sitting at the gate, Monet handed Bianca one of her earbuds. “Listen to the messages with me.”

  Hearing the fourth message—“Hello, this is the nurse from Grady Hospital calling for Monet Royale. If this is Monet Royale’s number, please give us a call back at . . .”—Monet cried out loud.

  She couldn’t imagine life without Kingston. She regretted not hearing what Jordan had to say while she was in Atlanta. All of those emotions were real, but Monet was clear. She didn’t feel remorse for having a relationship with Cairo. Irrespective of how she processed what’d happened, Kingston had brought many things upon himself by lying to her and disrespecting his family.

  Settling into their seats, Monet asked her best friend, “What if he’s dead?”

  Looking at Monet, Bianca replied, “That would be the easy part. The harder question for you is, what are you going to do if your husband is alive?”

  CHAPTER 53

  Victoria

  “I love you, Victoria,” Heavenly said.

  Victoria cracked an egg. Separating the white from the yolk in two bowls, she wondered what she could do to break the love spell she’d cast on this innocent man-child.

  “I love you because you take excellent care of me. I see why Mr. Willy stayed around so long. Now it’s my turn.” Heavenly inhaled, thrusting his chest out. His smile was wide and beautiful. That of a boy trapped in an adult’s body.

  “Let’s not talk about Willy Copeland until I say it’s okay.” Victoria wasn’t asking. She didn’t want to emotionally share her beloved with his replacement.

  No man could fit her Willy’s shoes. Heavenly was the new guy. And would have to build his own foundation.

  “I really, really love you, Victoria.” This time his smile switched to a grin.

  Pouring the egg whites into the skillet, she wanted him to kiss her all over. Any part of his body caressing her made her temporarily forget about Willy. Slowly she added smoked salmon, scallions, red pepper flakes, and mushrooms, then lightly stirred them together.

  “Let’s take another vacation,” she suggested. “Where would you like to go?” Cracking another egg on the side of the bowl, she let the white fall, then tossed the yolk.

  Without hesitation, enthusiastically he shouted, “Vegas, baby! I’ve never been, heard it’s spectacular. We should fly in tonight. I hope Cardi B is there,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “And if I get lucky,” he said, slapping Victoria on the ass, “I might hit another jackpot.”

  “Hmm.” She had herself to blame.

  Heavenly visiting her house every day, as opposed to their sharing twenty-four hours in each other’s company at an all-inclusive resort, was new. She didn’t mind when they were out of town, but he couldn’t move in on her.

  Victoria said, “Oh, yeah. Do tell.” Putting a dish in front of him, she said, “Blend these pineapples and blueberries with crushed ice and mango juice.”

  “I could get lucky at the casino. And if I’m really on a roll, we can go to one of those places where people get married.”

  And do what? Be witnesses. Oh no! Victoria thought. Making an omelet, she carefully lifted the edges, ensuring it didn’t overcook.

  “Why not make me your husband?” Heavenly spun the fruit bowl.

  “I’ve never married.” Committing to Heavenly or any man would make that teddy bear in her casting room come to life.

  Her lifestyle wasn’t conducive to marriage. As a single woman, she’d had great dick and incredible companionship. Now she had one and wondered if she’d ever regain the other.

  “Neither have I.” Heavenly moved from the counter-height chair, stood behind Victoria, close enough for her to feel his growing erection.

  Thinking of Willy, Victoria was no longer in a sexual mood. “I’ve lost my appetite.” She turned off the fire, handed him the spatula.

  Sliding the omelet from the skillet onto a plate, he helped himself to a fork and started eating. Willy would’ve served her first.

  “I’m never going to leave you. Like ever. This tastes good, but not better than you.” Talking with his mouth full, Heavenly told her, “We might as well make it official tonight. Is Vegas a go?”

  That wasn’t the potion speaking. That was an opportunist. He wasn’t the first. “You stay here and eat breakfast. I’ll make and then take my smoothie into the bedroom and get ready for church.”

  Heavenly added her scramble on top of his omelet. Capturing her hand, he asked, “You miss him, don’t you?”

  Victoria tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Victoria eased her hand out of his grip. “Hurry up. Finish eating and get dressed. Otherwise, we’re going to have to take two cars.”

  She showered, dressed, then told Heavenly, “If you’re not ready in fifteen minutes, I’m leaving.”

  Heavenly devoured the rest of his food, washed it down with the remainder of her smoothie, disappeared, and then reappeared all within ten minutes. “Ready, my love.” Genuinely, he had the most adorable demeanor. Innocent. Young. His spirit was younger than his age.

  Victoria didn’t want to be alone, yet she didn’t want him in her space every day. Flying to his suggested destination wasn’t a bad idea. Why not?

  Getting in the car, she said, “I’ll book our tickets for Las Vegas tonight.”

  “We’re going tonight!” He leaned over and kissed her.

  “No.” Struggling not to become annoyed, she explained, “I’m booking the tickets tonight. I’ll have to check my calendar first to see what day we’re leaving.”

  “This is the best summer of my life!” Easy for Heavenly. He was off from school without a job.

  Victoria had to run a business.

  Driving along Peachtree, she saw it was going to be another scorching day. Victoria parked in the church’s front lot. They walked inside, holding hands. People stared. Mumbled. She didn’t care. Honestly, Victoria didn’t give a damn. It was her life. And she was Willy’s mistress for over forty years. The church members didn’t frown upon that and they’d eventually get used to seeing her with Heavenly.

  “Sit wherever you like,” she told Heavenly. Touching his face, she softly kissed his lips to give the haters a real reason to gossip, then made her way to the back of the church.

  The gang was there standing in a circle. Tracy had volunteered to replace Kingston until—or if—he returned to Hope for All Church.


  “Hey, Victoria. Come here,” Jordan beckoned.

  Jordan was in uniform, but cuter than usual. Her natural hair was flat-ironed, but the ultrabright red lip and witch-pointed nails were different.

  Joining the new group, she said, “I’m going to stay back here until it’s time to collect the offering.” To Tracy, Chancelor, and Jordan, she said, “I’ll be fine,” before they started questioning if she was okay.

  Retreating to the pastor’s study, Victoria closed the door, turned on the television, and watched the service that was happening up front.

  “This song is dedicated to Brother Kingston Royale.” The choir started singing “Never Would’ve Made It.” They followed with “Jesus Is Love.” Victoria cried through both.

  “Let the Church give thanks unto the Lord. Brother Kingston Royale is expected to have a full recovery. It’s not going to be overnight, nor will it be in his time, everything is in God’s control.”

  Pastor Baloney marched behind the pulpit. “I want the congregation to become the eyes and ears of our community, for here at Hope for All Church, we are family.”

  Victoria bowed her head, closed her eyes. This was the first Sunday after Willy’s disastrous service. Looking up at the screen, she glanced around the church, hoping Willy’s ratchet family would honor the restraining order Jordan helped her get in exchange for bailing out her young client.

  “Sister Monet Royale, we welcome you to become a visiting member,” Pastor Baloney stated. “Of course, if you should decide to move to Atlanta, you’ll always have a home here. Whatever your needs are, let them become ours and God’s. You don’t have to walk this journey alone. Brother Kingston is part of our sick and shut-in now and we’ll make sure to visit him throughout his healing process.” Pastor Baloney paused, rattled his head, then continued: “As the ushers come forward, preparing to collect the offering, know that you cannot outgive who?”

  The congregation responded in unison, “God!”

  Victoria dried her eyes with a tissue, then hurried to the altar. She stood on the inner aisle next to the front pew and faced Chancelor. She glanced at the space where Brother William Copeland once sat. Chancelor handed the basket to the person seated on his end. He glanced at Victoria, then mouthed, “Are you okay?”