If I wanted to take her, I would’ve invited her. Charlotte was a straight trip. I shook my head, kept watching what was happening on the ground.
Charlotte leaned on me. “I love you, Spencer.”
Her hair was loose, flowing down her back, pressed against my chest. It felt good in a soothing kind of way. I inhaled Gucci Guilty. Charlotte had this thing where she’d spritz perfume in her palms then run her fingers through her hair. Whenever I inhaled or a breeze blew, I wanted to grab her long blond strands and hold them under my nose. I hugged her tighter.
“I love you too, boo.” Truth was, I needed her to hold me. The sizzle reel in my head of the last twenty-fo highlighted the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I’d taken Charlotte on a few weekend road trips to Augusta, Savannah, and Macon. Was reluctant to drive with her to New York, New Orleans, or Miami. Didn’t want to cross the state line of Georgia with her by my side. This trip on a plane was about to be a first for us. Our first experiences—the day we met, kissed, had sex, made love—were memorable in a good way.
Out-of-state getaways were reserved for my boy, LB. I wasn’t a fan of traveling in groups. Hated hearing Charlotte whine before we left, then again when we returned. What the hell was she bitching about? I mean we could have a perfect day and she’d find that fucking needle in a haystack and poke me with it.
“Let’s get married in Vegas,” Charlotte said without facing me.
I ain’t gon’ lie, though. I had a tightness in my chest for Charlotte. The kind that made it hard to breathe at times but getting married was out. Right now, I was in excruciating emotional pain. If I were a “I don’t give a fuck about females” kinda bruh, long as I get mine, I would’ve cashed in Blake’s ticket, invited my boy, LB, on this trip, and let Charlotte sit this one out in the ATL with her other dude.
“Let’s figure out if we honestly want this relay, boo.”
Casually, she answered with an “Okay.”
I recalled my first kiss with Fabulous while we stood by her Ferrari yesterday morning. I was upset with Fabulous, too. She’d changed her mind about traveling with me but I went out of my way to celebrate her birthday. My ego told her ass not to worry about the trip hoping she’d plead her case. Her not having the decency to call was foul to the tenth power. Recalling her text message, Something unexpectedly came up. Can’t do Vegas. I balled my fist, placed it on my knee, tucked my lips, clenched my teeth, then shook my head. Oh, she could’ve done Vegas. It was more like, Won’t? Don’t want to do Vegas? Do me? Both? Nigga fuck you, Fabulous!
“Miss, I need to take your purse and put it in the overhead compartment,” the flight attendant said.
Charlotte’s head snapped toward the aisle. “I know you’re not talking to me.”
We were in bulkhead. Charlotte refused to hand her purse to the attendant. We’d both checked in our luggage. Hers at ticket check-in. Mine at the gate.
“Give it to me, boo.” I put her purse under the last seat in first class so we could see it the entire flight.
Charlotte said, “Thanks,” then leaned the back of her head on my chest.
I inhaled slow and deep, filling my lungs with the scent of my woman.
The attendant announced, “When we close the door, you’ll have to switch your cell phones to airplane mode or power them off.”
Taking my cell out of my pocket, I took the opportunity to check my phone for messages. Anxiously, I wanted Fabulous to have sent a text or left a voice mail apologizing.
Clenching my teeth, I powered off my cell. Fuck that whore! With every passing second I became angrier. I couldn’t lie. I felt like a fool.
Heaving, I tried to calm down. On the upside, at least twenty-four hours hadn’t passed since I’d paid for Blake’s ticket so I’d gotten a full refund from the airline back to my credit card. I could’ve cancelled my ticket, too, but Charlotte had become “get back at Fabulous.” But what good was a get-back if the person I was trying to make trip was clueless about my being pissed the hell off?!
“The world can wait,” Charlotte said without looking at me. “I love you, Spencer. Stop thinking about her. I promise I’ll never break anything in your house ever again.”
“Why do you lie to me? You’ve said that way too many times. You know I don’t believe you.” Just like I didn’t believe she’d stopped fucking dude. “From now on, I’m coming to your crib. No more kicking it at my spot.”
“That’s fair,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. She looked up into my eyes. “Your not having your mom. Me not having my dad. That’s why I’m so messed up, you know. Baby, maybe we should consider getting counseling together.”
My dick instantly got hard when she said, “Baby.” The way she looked at me with those sexy eyes. She had the sweetest voice even when she was mad.
“Tell the truth. Did you fuck dude when you left my place yesterday? Don’t lie.” I tried to lock eye contact with her.
Charlotte turned away, answered, “No,” then looked at me. “Let’s get married when we get to Vegas. Maybe being married and living together will help us grow closer together.”
What? She didn’t think I could tell she was lying and trying to change the subject. Marrying Charlotte wasn’t happening. Not this or any other trip. No amount of counseling could change her crazy ass.
I wanted to push her off of me! Best for me not to respond.
Maybe the way I’d sexed Fabulous scared her off. That shit was unforgettable. My hard dick wanted Fabulous seated next to me. I wanted to lick her asshole. Make her squirt again. Nah, I wanted to give her this dick nice and slow missionary style. Stare into her eyes, make her cry the kind of tears that would make her say, “I love you,” while holding me in her arms.
I told Charlotte, “I’ve gotta take a piss before takeoff.” Facing the person next to me, I said, “Excuse me.”
Standing in the aisle, I looked at Charlotte for the last time. Bypassing the flight attendant, I exited the plane onto the Jetway.
“Dude, I have an emergency.” Handing him my claim ticket, I asked, “Can you get my bag? Or is it too late?”
“Let me see,” he said, hurrying down the stairway.
The stewardess looked at me, opened her mouth. I pressed my finger to my lips, then shook my head. She closed the door. Instantly I felt relieved when the guy said, “Here you go, man.”
I offered him a tip, but he refused. “Go take care of your business. I’ll pray for you, brotha.”
Exiting the concourse, I headed to the MARTA station, hopped on the train. I might regret having memorized Fabulous’s address when I checked her ID at the bar. My destination was to get to my car in Buckhead then head north to Roswell.
CHAPTER 29
Blake
“Nine-one-one operator,” she answered.
Matching her tone, calmly I said, “I need an ambulance to . . .” Giving her my address, I adjusted my Bluetooth deeper into my ear.
She questioned, “Is this an emergency?”
My pointing finger glided from the handle, along the dull side, to the tip. I stared at the knife, then at him. Softly, I answered, “Depends on how you look at it. Please. Send an ambulance. No, wait. Send the coroner.” I ended the call. Cleaned my face best as I could.
Fortune wasn’t man enough to stay gone after I’d put him out. Brought his disgusting-had-no-place-to-stay black ass back up in my house. Without my permission! Acted as though he had the right to go upside my head, then fall asleep in my bed as though nothing bad had happened.
He didn’t love me. He never loved me. This could’ve ended differently if he’d stayed gone.
Four hours ago I stood over him, watched him exhale his last breath. That was my first time watching a person die. I wasn’t sad. I was numb. Couldn’t stand to look at myself with all these bruises.
Softly, I said, “Do unto others.” He’d gotten what he deserved.
I’d waited to dial for assistance. Wanted to make sure there was no chance o
f the paramedics reviving him. One less trifling man in the world would save a few women from being abused.
The blaring sounds of sirens got louder and louder. I stuck my finger in my left ear. Entering my closet, I removed a pair of pink shoes from my Prada box, dropped the knife inside, then replaced the top. I changed from my black dress to a long pink silk robe. Quickly, I changed my robe from pink to white. White would make me appear as though I was the victim. Well, I was. Had two black eyes and a busted lip to prove it.
One last stare at that no-good rapist. The sirens stopped. I said, “There is God.” I spat in Fortune’s face, then I headed barefoot downstairs to my living room.
Opening my front door, the paramedics stared at me. One of them asked, “What happened, miss?” Immediately, the other one opened his first aid case, then said, “Have a seat. Let me check you out.”
I shook my head to the sound of more sirens. “I got my ass beat but I didn’t lose the fight. I’m not the one you came for.” Stepping aside, I pointed, then told them, “He’s up there.” I was at peace with what had happened to Fortune.
The paramedics rushed up the stairs. At the same time, a police car parked beside the ambulance in my driveway.
Oh, shit! Racing into the kitchen, I ripped the notes to my daughters into tiny pieces then sprinkled them in the trashcan. I hadn’t realized blood was in the palms of my hands from gripping the knife. Quickly, I washed my hands, dried them with a paper towel, then tossed it in the trash. As I returned to my living room, two cops entered my home. I pointed upstairs.
Mercedes’s car pulled up. All of my daughters got out. Hurried to me. This was the first time that I needed each of my children more than any one of them needed me.
“All hell no!” Devereaux shouted. She started crying.
My girls talked over one another asking me questions at the same time. I heard, “Mama, what happened.” “We can see what the fuck happened!” “Where’s that bitch at?!” “I can’t believe this.” “Oh, my, God.”
I was relieved my girls were here. I opened my arms to all of them praying nothing like this would ever happen to any of them. No woman deserved this.
Mercedes stepped back from the group hug. “Fortune! Bring your trifling ass down here right now!” she shouted.
“I hope you cut his nuts off,” Sandara said, bouncing up and down. She threw a few jabs to the empty space in front of her face.
I nodded, then shook my head fast. Sounded as though they were speaking underwater. Lord, please don’t let me lose the hearing in my left ear.
“Fuck that bitch! If he won’t come down, I’m going up!” Tears streamed down Alexis’s cheeks. She pulled her gun from her purse, wrapped both hands around the handle, pulled the firearm to her right shoulder, pointed the barrel toward the ceiling, then headed toward the staircase. “If he’s not dead, I’m going to make that bitch wish he were, Mama.”
Mercedes yelled, “Get back here, girl! And put that away. It doesn’t have a safety.”
Alexis said, “I’m the fucking safety.”
Devereaux chimed in, “Let the police do their job.”
A police officer appeared at the top of the stairs. “Ma’am, she’s right.” He drew his weapon toward Alexis, deepened his voice, then spoke with authority. “Put your gun away, now!”
Alexis placed the gun in the side compartment of her purse.
The officer said, “Everyone stay downstairs. No one leave.” He disappeared from the hallway.
I think the only time Alexis didn’t have a piece on her was when she was in church. Shaking my head, I wasn’t sure about that.
My girls knew a lot about guns. I did too. In Georgia, guns were allowed in the home. The car was an extension of the home. Possessing a firearm outside of the home or car required a license that all of us had.
I heard footsteps approaching my doorway. I wiggled my finger in my left ear. Assuming it was more policemen, I pointed toward the staircase.
“Fabulous, what’s going on?”
The voice and nickname were unmistakable. I turned and faced Spencer. “How’d you get my address?”
With all the commotion, I hadn’t noticed the black Range Rover in my driveway. It must’ve been his.
“Aw, hell nah!” he said, covering then uncovering his face. He hunched his shoulders, shook his head at the same time. “Fabulous, all I need to know is, where that motherfucka at?”
Two more officers entered my living room. They stared at me. Then one questioned Spencer, “Who’s responsible for this dispute?”
Yep, I’d lost some degree of hearing in my left ear. I could understand but the words were slightly muffled.
An officer standing above by the railing said, “Guys. Up here!”
One of the policemen eyed Spencer, then said, “Don’t you leave. Nobody leave.” Then, both officers headed to the second floor.
Spencer looked at me then shook his head. “You should’ve told me you had a situation at home. Now I feel bad for keeping you out all night. It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” Spencer obviously felt bad about what happened to me but the only person I blamed was dead.
Mercedes objected. “Yes. It is his fault, Mother. If he would’ve remained professional and not taken advantage of you, you would’ve made it home that night. Instead, thanks to Spencer Can’t-Keep-His-Dick-To-Himself Domino, you had on the same red halter dress the next day. And no panties, may I add!”
Spencer’s eyes widened as he slowly said, “Wow.”
Devereaux commented, “Keep it down, Mercedes. We don’t want the cops to think Spencer did this.”
“How do you know his last name, Mercedes?” I asked, then told Spencer, “It’s not your fault.”
Spencer came closer to me. “I can leave if you want me to. I was pissed that you stood me up so”—he paused then hunched his shoulders—“I was stopping by.” He paused again, then asked, “You okay?”
Sandara answered this time. “What you think, lover boy?”
Mercedes told Sandara, “I know you’re not talking.”
Just as I opened my mouth to speak, a paramedic came into the living room and confirmed what I already knew. He said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s dead. We’ll do an autopsy to confirm his cause of death but it appears he suffered a heart attack. The coroner will be here shortly. We’ll wait upstairs until they arrive.”
Tom, my neighbor from across the street, rushed into my house. Stared at my face. “Oh, my Heavenly Father. Who did this to you, Blake? Was it that sum-of-a-bitch Fortune? Where is he?”
I nodded, then said, “Dead.”
“Good,” Tom said. “I should go get my rifle and kill that sum-of-a-bitch again.”
Alexis swayed side to side. Patted her purse. “I’m with you, Tom. I say we do this!”
One of the police officers stood at the top of the staircase, then said, “Tom, is it?”
“Yes sir, officer. I’m Blake’s neighbor.”
The police trotted down the stairs. “Unless you’re involved in this situation, Tom, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Ms. Blake, we’re going to have to take a report from you and everyone who was here at the time of death. We can do it here or at the station.”
“If you need me, call me and I’ll come a-runnin’. You hear me, Blake,” Tom said, heading toward the door. “Good-bye, officer. You have a nice day.”
Mercedes said, “Officer, please. Take our mother’s statement here. She was the only one present at the time.”
“All of these are your children, ma’am?” the officer asked.
Alexis responded, “These are my sisters. He,” she said, pointing at Spencer, “is my boyfriend.”
Looking at Spencer, I was relieved that Alexis had taken the spotlight off of him.
CHAPTER 30
Spencer
Waiting for Fabulous to finish giving her statement inside the house, I sat in a rocking chair on her front porch. Didn’t need to know the specifics.
There was zero justification for a dude laying fists to any woman’s face.
The afternoon sunshine disappeared behind a layer of dark clouds. From what I’d heard, not much drama happened in the city of Roswell. If Fabulous became my new woman or my side gurl, this place could become a real chill zone for me. I liked how Fabulous’s house was tucked away from the congestion I was accustomed to in Buckhead.
She had the seventy-inch-screen television, surround sound speakers, all the shit a man liked. Showing up to curse out Fabulous for standing me up, I felt bad when I saw her black eyes and busted lip.
That fucked up shit brought back memories of what my dad had done to my mom. Guilt crept in on how I’d abandoned Charlotte. A lot of shit was competing in my head for attention. If it were true that everything happened for a reason, my being here with Fabulous was where I was meant to be. I missed my mom, and a few tears rolled down a brotha’s face.
A soft voice said, “Hey, Spencer. You okay?” Alexis sat in the rocker beside me, then held my hand. “I’m glad you came.”
This female was bold, straight trouble, and one hundred percent sexy. Alexis dried my tears. Instantly my dick got hard.
“I’m not that sentimental brotha that cry all the time,” I told her, toughening up.
“Then what’s got you flowing?”
Trouble with a capital T. I volunteered to share my story for two reasons. One, to take my mind off of fucking her. Two, I wanted to let her know I understood how she might be feeling about her mom.
“When I was ten I saw my dad beat my mom. It wasn’t the first time but it was the worst I’d witnessed.” My high school drama days kicked in. I added serious facial expressions as I continued. “That day it was so bad I thought, if he hits her one more time, my mother is going to die.”
Alexis leaned closer.
“This shit is real. I was so angry. I wanted to blow his brains out. Scared as a rat might be crossing a starving cat’s path to get to a piece of cheese, I didn’t care what would happen to me.” I paused, stuck out my chest, squeezed her hand, then proudly said, “I became brave that day. I’d gone to the garage, grabbed the shotgun. Boldly, I aimed the barrel at my father’s head. He’d taught me how to shoot to kill. Two shots to the chest. One to the head. My ten-year-old hands started trembling, uncontrollably. His—”
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