If You Don't Know Me

by Mary B. Morrison

  Gripping my dick tighter, I kept it moving. The last time I’d had a woman let me spill my seeds inside of her was a month ago. Actually it was longer. My wood ached to feel the softness of a tight pussy. Her flesh pressing against mine made me want to take my shit out now and ask for volunteers.

  Indecent exposure would get me arrested. I’d rather kill somebody. A murderer had more rights than a sex offender. They weren’t free even after they got out. Couldn’t live near schools. Couldn’t be around minors. Couldn’t be in the house with they own kids.

  I was not getting used to being caged like a gorilla with a bunch of dudes, beating my meat in the dark. Good thing the people walking by couldn’t read my mind or they might’ve thought I’d meant I’d let some dude hold my dick. Never that. I handled mine.

  Now that I was out I was gonna stay straight. No mo’ brawling or boiling over like a teakettle using my fists to blow off steam. Maybe I’d find me a good woman at a church to give me head. Some of those Christian girls were easier to snatch up and lay with than the chicks strolling the streets. Loretta taught me that. Didn’t take much for me to get her out of her ugly drawers. I hated that conniving broad. Wonder what she was up to?

  I spotted my black Super Duty parked at a meter on Texas Avenue. Beaux had dropped off the blue jeans, cowboy boots, and button-down shirt I was wearing, then said, “I’ll wait outside.” An explanation wasn’t necessary. A black man didn’t want to be inside a prison even if he was a visitor.

  Beaux was reclined with his eyes closed. I bammed on the window.

  “Bro, wake yo’ yellow ass up!”

  “Damn, dude!” He sat up, opened the door, got out, then hugged me tight. “Keep your ass out this time,” he said.

  My brother had on black slacks and nice blue shirt. The first few buttons were undone. He smelled good. His hair was neatly cut down to a shadow. He stood six feet.

  Towering six inches above him, I leaned on him for emotional support. “For sho that. I should’ve went to dinner with you that night bro but I just wanted to see my son, man. Sorry for putting you through this shit again.”

  “No need to apologize. What’s done is done,” he said sitting behind the wheel. “Now that Mama is gone we’re all we’ve got and your ass has got to leave that woman and her child alone.”

  Being older it was time I started acting like his big brother. He motioned to close the door. Pulling it toward me, I realized I had nothing to prove to Beaux. My gut told me baby Zach was mine.

  “Don’t let me off the hook. Hang my ass on the wall next time I even think about making a dumb move and leave me there until I come to my senses.” I grabbed my head. “I am fucking sorry. Sorry I did that stupid shit. Ain’t gon’ be no next time. Get out dude, I’m driving.”

  He didn’t move. “We’ve got to take care of business first. You can drive after we’re done.”

  “Now?”

  “Now,” he said.

  “That’s why you all dressed up?” Beaux didn’t answer. I stood there and explained. “I’m hungry. Take me to Pappadeaux’s,” I growled. “I want some cat, and some fried catfish, a woman with her ass on the table with her legs spread wide so I can eat her and my jambalaya.” I bounced like Future, held my dick, while singing, “I want pussy and food at the same damn time.”

  “Shut up and get in the damn truck, dude! At the same damn time.” Beaux slammed my door.

  Frowning, I sat in the passenger seat where he belonged. “Where to?”

  “Not to get you some pussy.” Handing me my cell, he said, “Call your boss.” A couple of right turns and we were headed toward the freeway.

  My eyes got real wide. I still had my job? I slapped the dashboard. “You taking me to work! Where my clothes and steel-toe boots?” I looked behind the driver’s seat. Saw a suitcase bigger than the one Charles had given me. Work was one place I could do double time. Triple if Manny asked. I dialed the number from my favorites.

  Manny answered, “Hey, Granville. You back?”

  Squinting from the sun almost blinding me, I lowered the visor then stared at Beaux. I’d just notice his face was shaved clean too. “What happened to your mustache, dude? Yo’ forty-two-year-old butt lookin’ like a kid’s ass and shit.”

  “I don’t have a mustache,” Manny answered then asked, “Your brother told you?”

  “Yeah, he told me to call you. When you want me to start my new position? I can come in right now, boss.”

  “Sorry, Granville. We had to terminate you. I’ve already hired your replacement.”

  “But I love my job. I thought you wanted me to come in. It was a technicality. I’ll explain when I get there but don’t give away my promotion,” I pleaded.

  What would I do without a job? More than the money, I enjoy laboring under the Houston blazing heat with sweat rolling down my head and face. This was my first time in almost thirty years being somebody’s boss.

  “Don’t cut my balls off, dude.”

  Manny laughed. I didn’t find shit funny.

  “I understand you needed a break but I can’t put operations on hold when you decide to take a month-long vacation.”

  “A what?”

  “Your brother told me you went to the DR. Hell, I’d loved to have gone with you but it was irresponsible of you to celebrate your promotion when you should’ve been here. Personally, I think he’s lying but either way, it doesn’t matter. You’re still the best I’ve hired and the best I’ve fired. If you need a reference, I’ll give you a good one,” he said ending the call.

  I stared at Beaux. “Thanks, bro.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “No, I mean thanks for fucking up my bread and butter, dude!” I punched the dash.

  Beaux laughed. “You’ll get another job.”

  I wanted to beat his ass! “Don’t need no ’nother job. I’ma lay low and roll with my dough.”

  “Better to have him think you were partying with a bunch of females than to tell him you were arrested for violating your restraining order by trying to see a kid that’s not yours. Now we can really go to the DR and when we get back you can apply for a job someplace else.”

  That’s it! Reaching for the steering wheel, I turned it toward me. “He is my son!”

  My truck swerved into the next lane. Beaux spun the wheel to the left and merged back into the fast lane.

  “Nigga! Kill yourself! Not me or the people in the other cars. I swear you do some ignorant shit. Put your hand over here again I’ma stab your ass. What if someone else did this shit and your son was in the car and they killed him and Madison? How would you feel?”

  All the shanks they had in the pen, I wasn’t afraid of no knife. Tears clouded my view but I didn’t want to hurt nobody but if someone killed my son out of foolishness, I’d personally bury them alive.

  I took a deep breath. “You taking me to the airport? We leaving now?”

  He shook his head.

  “Where the fuck we going then?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Well, tell me how’s our money doing offshore?”

  Beaux entered the driveway leading to this huge mansion in River Oaks. “I closed the account.”

  “What! Closed? Or never opened?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  I swear I wanted to punch him upside his head. “What’d you do that for? How much we made before you did that? Where you put the money? Why didn’t you ask me what I wanted to do with my money?”

  One question after another he never answered. Finally, he said, “We have to live right.”

  With no fucking job and no income? “How?” I didn’t want to live right if it meant being broke. Parking my truck, Beaux reached behind the driver’s seat and removed a suitcase and a briefcase.

  “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Madison

  My husband seeing his mistress made him colder toward me. Roosevelt treated me as though it were my fault she wasn’t sl
eeping in his bed. The only love I received since he’d seen Sindy was from Zach. As precious as our son was he couldn’t fill my emotional void.

  I sat on the edge of the bed feeding Zach. I didn’t feel complete competing with a woman with sexy boobs. Roosevelt wasn’t shallow. If he were, he wouldn’t have made love to me.

  The fact that he’d shown compassion after my surgery made me love him more. A man couldn’t fake kissing a woman’s stitches with tenderness. “I’m sorry,” was on the verge of escaping my mouth. A picture of Granville flashed on the television, silencing me. Tossing Zach’s bottle on the bed, I snatched the remote, then changed the channel as Roosevelt entered the bedroom.

  Granville was not a celebrity. His release was not newsworthy. Papa. He’d been quiet since his confession. He suggested the results might not be accurate. There was a chance this sweet precious baby in my arms was a DuBois.

  Roosevelt loved Zach. There was no reason to give him doubt.

  My husband’s body glistened. Beads of water covered his chest. A drop clung to his nipple. I imagined opening my mouth, licking it off, then sucking him gently the way he’d let me do the other day when he came deep inside me. My eyes traveled from his face to his dick. His shaft and balls both sagged between his thighs. I prayed when I went in for my six-week checkup, I’d be pregnant with his second child. There’d be no questioning the paternity if I were.

  Roosevelt closed his eyes, then slowly opened them as he secured the towel around his waist. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said with disgust.

  “Like what? Like I desire my husband? I do.” Once upon a time his dick stayed hard for me. Not anymore. He stooped slightly, then slid the towel over his dick. He gripped his privates, squeezed, then released.

  I was no fool. I wouldn’t tell him, “She can have your ass.” That would encourage him to sleep at her place, or get a hotel room and leave the baby and me here alone.

  A visual of my husband’s mouth on her clit disgusted me. “Adultery is a sin. I know you’ve had sex with her.”

  “I’ll save you the argument. I have,” he said scooping our son from my arms. Flatly, my husband said, “I’m not playing this game with you, Madison.”

  There was so much to say and at the same time I was speechless. He’d drained my fuel to fight by admitting he’d done her, which meant he either knew I couldn’t sue for alienation or he didn’t care. I preferred he knew.

  I stood and began packing my suitcase—toiletries, two outfits, and two pairs of shoes. It was time for me to go.

  “Good morning, dude.” He held Zach above his head. Zach smiled. “Daddy loves you.” Zach’s slobber rolled down Roosevelt’s cheek. They both smiled.

  Never had I imagined this man would look at me without seeing me. I grazed Roosevelt’s lower back with my fingernails. His body tensed. Firmly, he said, “Please don’t touch me like that.”

  I bet if Sindy were here at his condo rubbing her hand up and down his spine the way I’d seen her do while watching them on television in his suite, he’d enjoy that. She didn’t deserve Roosevelt more than I. No woman did.

  “Roosevelt, we have to move past your discomfort. Am I really that bad?”

  Why did Texas Republicans deny women our rights? We couldn’t sue for alienation; now they’d enacted laws that may close almost all of the forty-two abortion clinics in the state. Most of our politicians were men who wanted to fuck women in and out of bed. No matter what my husband said, I wasn’t letting him fuck me over.

  “I love you. I’m not in love with you. And my love is turning into a strong like and that’s because you’re the mother of our son. I’ve tried forgiving you but . . . Madison, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I want you gone.”

  His words slit my wrist. I was emotionally bleeding to death. Would he dial 911 if I tried to kill myself? Or would he step over me?

  “I want you out of my house. The only reason I wanted to talk with you, not move you in, was because of this dude. He deserves both of his parents.” A tear fell on Zach’s cheek. “I love you with all my heart, son. Daddy would die for you.”

  That was not necessary for him to say. Never thought I’d be jealous of my child but this very second I was. Roosevelt stared at the wall. His face became expressionless. My eyes trailed his to the TV. Shit! There he was again. This time Roosevelt saw him too. Picking up the remote, I powered off the damn television.

  I had to get my husband to focus on me. “The doctor said if my breast augmentation goes well, I should be released in two days. You have games over this Thanksgiving holiday. My mom can keep Zach.”

  The darkness of our son’s genitals had lightened over the past few weeks. I was thankful. Before then I’d begun thinking Granville was Zach’s biological father.

  “What’s the recovery time?” my husband asked staring at the blank screen.

  “A few months. Maybe.” I had to lie.

  In five days the doctor had said I could drive. Ten days I could lift Zach (or up to twenty pounds) but not over my head. Three weeks the doctor projected I’d be completely functional the way I am now. I wish when they cut me open they’d replace my broken heart.

  “Do not use my son against me. I told you my mother is keeping Zach and that’s final.” He hugged our baby tighter.

  Exhaling, I lamented, “What about the divorce? If you don’t tell your lawyer to withdraw your petition, it’ll be final while I’m in the hospital.”

  “Why prolong the inevitable?” he said, standing in front of me. I wanted to snatch the towel off his waist.

  “I’m giving you five million dollars. I’ve paid off your house, bought you a car, plus, against my mother’s will, I’m giving you back your family business free and clear.”

  Roosevelt’s generosity was an incentive to hold on, not let go. I’d decided not to tell Papa about Tyler Construction.

  “Finish packing your bags. I’ll send the rest of your belongings to your mother’s. I love you, but for the last time, Madison. You’ve. Got. To. Go. I’ll get Zach ready to take to my mom’s.” Walking away he added, “We’ll be in the living room waiting.”

  The tightness in my chest knotted up as I watched the two most important men in my life leave the bedroom. I never thought I’d end my time on earth over a breakup with a man but I swear my husband’s rejection was killing me.

  CHAPTER 26

  Granville

  Soon as the front door opened, I knew exactly where I was.

  “Hi, I’m Charles Singleton. The last time we met, you didn’t see my face.” He extended his hand.

  That was because dude had kidnapped me and had his bodyguards bring me here.

  His weak voice was all I’d remembered of him that day as he’d sat in a chair with his back facing me. His dining room was dark. Not pitch black though. Security had sat me at a long table. As I listened to Charles telling me how he wanted Chicago dead, he sounded old with that same choppiness in his throat.

  “You want my arm to fall off?” he asked standing in front of me.

  Why should I care? That wasn’t funny. He wasn’t Billy Dee but he had them kind of rich guy clothes on. “You going to bed or just waking up, dude?” I snickered.

  What was up with the bedroom fit? Black shiny pants and gold designs pasted to a smooth jacket that had a sash tied around his waist. Where was the cigar? He didn’t seem the type that would have one of those vapor-smoking gadgets.

  Looking at him in all those clothes, my head started sweating. It was too hot for all that. I stared at his feet. Who wore leather slip-ons?

  “I don’t want to shake your hand or kiss your ass, dude.” I wiped my head, then slung my sweat on him. “Beaux, you shouldn’t have brought me here. Let’s go,” I demanded.

  My fists were aching to curl and lay this old wealthy guy out with one punch. I was starting to hate all people with lots of money. My mama didn’t put no price tag on me and he wasn’t going to either. The only thing that kept me from let
ting him have it was I’d probably have to fight off the bodyguards standing at the top of the stairs with their arms folded. Plus, I didn’t want a jail cell waiting for me to step inside that hellhole tonight for doing something stupid. If my brother ended up in the slammer with me, who’d bail us out?

  Beaux sat the two cases in the foyer. “Here’s your million dollars plus interest. Granville ain’t doing your dirty work, Charles Singleton.”

  I snatched the briefcase, clung it to my chest. “That interest is ours, not his!”

  “It’s not as much as you think. Put it down, Granville!” Beaux struggled to peel away my arm. I laughed. He must’ve forgotten where he’d picked me up from. My abs were ripped, biceps bulged like Popeye the Sailor Man. I hated spinach. Over the past thirty days I’d worked extra hard on beefing up my back muscles. Heard some women like a man with a nice strong back.

  When old dude said, “That one has the gun,” I let go of the case before questioning, “How you know?”

  It was the one I’d gotten the cell phone from and the gun was in there at that time. The piece Charles had given me was no snub-nosed like the one I’d used to shoot Chicago. Charles had given me a silencer too. I figured Beaux had put our interest in the briefcase and the gun in the big bag with the mil.

  “Damn, bro!” My fingerprints were all over the leather. Should I take it or leave it? Beaux’s prints were on it too.

  The latch popped open when the case hit the tile floor. A gun fell out. “Bro, you supposed to secure that shit. It could’ve gone off and killed one of us.”

  I didn’t care about Charles. If he would’ve been accidentally shot and killed, oh well.

  Charles laughed, then said, “You’re right, Granville. Leave it all there. The gun is yours. The money too. You can get it on your way out. I don’t want it back.”

  “Yes, you do, Daddy.”

  I turned to see the woman with the long cinnamon hair that was in the courtroom during my trial. She closed the door. My jaw dropped. Drool rolled down my chin. I swiped my hand across my lips. I wanted me one of her.