by Tiana Laveen
“Does dis feel like a man that don’t want you, doesn’t find you to be the sexiest thang walkin’?!”
“No!” It felt so damn good. She slid on the bedsheets, and the deep penetration made her dizzy, her mind a fog.
“I’m gonna fuck you right outta yo’ goddamn spine! I’m gonna fuck the shit outta you, girl. You brought it on ya self! Wet, hot pussy! I love your pussy, baby! That’s what the fuck I like! And this fat ass!” He smacked it so hard, she was certain there’d be a bruise. Her eyes watered as he beat her punani up. The bed shook violently. “Gotta remind you who ya fuckin’ wit! Who loves you?!”
“You do, baby!”
“Say that shit louder!”
“YOU DO! Oh shit, baby! I love you so much, Cain! Fuck me good, Daddy! Yes!” She fisted the sheets, greedily needing more and more of his treacherous cock. She never wanted it to stop… the idea of it ending sent her into a panic.
“Take this fuckin’ dick! Take all of this shit! Shovin’ it in and out of your tight ass pussy!” He leaned against her, pressed his body to hers, then intertwined their legs.
“Oh God!” Her voice trembled as she came once again, but he didn’t let up. Cain just kept on going, fucking her into oblivion.
“Don’t nobody make my baby cry! ’Cept me when I’m givin her this good lovin’!” He thrust hard, then roared. “I’m ’bout to cum all up in this pussy of yours, baby! See what you makin’ me do to you?! Shouldn’t feel so damn good!”
“You beat it up sooo good, baby!”
Gripping her neck, the man practically choking her, he slapped his pelvis against her ass with record speed. She caught a glimpse of him in his vanity mirror. His lips were twisted and a look of pure insanity was etched on his face… evil lust…
It made her pussy cry the way he dominated her… the way he loved her… the way he needed her…
He screamed out, a beautiful, deep, masculine roar as he came hard within her. Wrapping his arm tighter around her waist, he pulled her into his final thrusts as he filled her valley with warm milk. He jerked a few more times, his breathing harsh and heavy, his weight against her like a protective barrier.
He finally laid her on the side, his cock still throbbing inside her. Then, he cradled her body with his from behind, wrapping his arms around her stomach and covering her shoulders with sweet, soft kisses until he drifted off to sleep. She stayed awake for a while longer, wishing on stars. A tear fell from her eye, but this one was born of joy…
How intuitive he was to know she was hurting, when all she’d done was tell him a million times that she didn’t care, that Mr. Alexander’s opinion of her didn’t cause to lose a wink of sleep.
She’d laughed and danced, played the part of a woman unbothered, but inside, she was broken up, shattered… cracked like a vase and fragmented into tiny pieces. She was destroyed like a letter burned in a fire… cut to shreds as if she’d closed her eyes and attempted to pluck a rose from a garden that was covered in thorns…
She shuddered when she felt his cock throb inside her once again, like an aftershock. It was as if it needed her, though its master was fast asleep. He smacked his lips a couple of times in his sleep, then squeezed her and pulled her closer to him. She loved Cain from the top of his black long hair to the bottom of his big ass feet.
He said she was his muse, but she believed he was also hers…
He knew her so well… not just the curves of her body, the soundwaves of her voice, and the twist of her innermost thoughts. He knew more, so much more… the things she never told him, the sacred little secrets tucked away deep inside. Yes, somehow, he could read her like song lyrics on a sheet of paper. Cain knew the bend of her soul…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
In My Wintertime…
It was rather quiet in the old house today.
Tapestry sat in a rocking chair in the living room next to Ms. Robertson, who was sound asleep. The television was on, but on mute. The old woman had been quieter than usual and refused to eat her lunch – a turkey and pepper jack cheese sandwich, pickle spear, boiled egg, and Lays potato chips. Tapestry slowly rocked back and forth in that chair, holding a glass of water in one hand and heavy burdens in the other.
She’d had a bit of a tiff with her lover the previous night. Cain had butted heads again with Mr. Alexander and came to her home bragging about it, as if it were some great feat. She warned him to cut it out, telling him that it needed to end, right then and there. It was almost as if Cain were on some sabotage mission—some way to defend her honor. Perhaps that was an excuse. Something about the man seemed to literally run in the opposite direction of success and stardom. So many times, for instance, he’d been on the road to greatness, only to have an idea stolen when he’d blabbed it to someone he trusted. She told him straight out she wasn’t no woman in distress. She could handle herself just fine so pickin’ fights with Mr. Bird Shit wasn’t doing either of them a damn bit of good.
Why couldn’t he understand that it was better for him to have a record deal than for neither of them to have one at all? These sorts of opportunities weren’t abundant; there wasn’t another one right around the bend. He’d worked practically a lifetime to get this chance, and she would be damned if he lost it on account of her. Besides, he’d earned this—wasn’t no need for him to shoot himself in the foot on account of her.
She shook her head as she recalled how he’d stormed away, his guitar over his shoulder and the wind in his hair. She’d yelled out that she loved him, and he mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” … still angry at her all the same. Smiling, she turned to Ms. Robertson and ran her fingers through the woman’s silky white hair.
You look so peaceful and happy…
Shifting her gaze to the television, she noticed a small corner bookshelf behind it. She’d seen it practically every day, but today, since the lady was snoring and out like a light, Tapestry figured she’d see if any good books could be found there for her to flip through. Perhaps she’d fix herself a nice cup of tea and settle with an old hardbound mystery or get some giggles from an ancient encyclopedia. Tiptoeing on over, she pulled out various spines, read the covers, and put them right back.
Oh… here’s another photo album…
She flipped through a few pages, surprised to find it there. Ms. Robertson had been somewhat meticulous and protective of her albums. They were all stored neatly in her bedroom, but this one, for whatever reason, was tucked away behind a book all about beagle dogs.
Reclaiming her spot on the rocking chair, she crossed her ankles and slowly rocked back and forth, turning page after page. The album contained old black and white photos of a sailor and a woman wearing a straw hat. Tapestry wondered who these people were. Some looked like movie stars, others like vagabonds, while most drifted somewhere in between. A few minutes later, she came across a page jammed shut with the use of a paperclip.
That’s strange…
It was as if the paperclip were being used as a bookmark and a hiding spot all at once. Carefully sliding it off and removing it from the album, she set it aside and flipped the page open. And her mouth dropped. Tapestry stifled a scream, barricading her voice behind two hands covering her parted lips. There, in black and white, was an old, photo of a tall man with long black hair, wearing a pair of oversized pants with suspenders. He was barefoot and standing on a log, a big smile on his face. Though the photograph was black and white, it was obvious he had big blue eyes…
My Lord! He looks just like my Cain!
It was practically a spitting image… a scary sight to see! She must’ve stared at that photo for a long, long time, unable to move or speak. After a while, she flipped through the rest of the book, and found one more photo of the same man.
Thomas Adrieux – 1952
Tapestry’s heart beat so fast, she thought she may have a heart attack. She slammed the album closed, trying desperately to gather her composure. Once she’d regained her senses, she found the two photos once again, and used her p
hone to take a snapshot of both. She then texted them to Cain…
Baby, this is the man Ms. Robertson mistook you for a while back. Her long, lost lover, Thomas Adrieux. As you can see, the resemblance is eerie… I am sitting here feeling all sorts of ways, but I know one thing for sure – the poor woman must’ve felt like she’d seen a ghost…
Cain sucked his teeth as he sat in the small studio booth with his headphones on. He’d just finished the second single on his upcoming album, “Intuition.” This particular song was entitled, ‘Swamp King.’ It featured a few rap verses as well that a local rap artist by the name of Shayan had done. It flowed well, the merging of Hip Hop, Blues, and Rock.
Tapestry woulda been perfect on the hook…
He sighed, feeling out of sorts. Just then, his cellphone buzzed. He removed the phone from his pocket and saw a text from the Queen herself. After reading her frantic text, he stared in the mirror, then at the picture in the phone… actually, he was looking at a man who was more than likely deceased, but in his prime, he and Mr. Thomas Adrieux were carbon copies. Only difference was, Mr. Adrieux was clean shaven in the photo. He looked up in the booth and took note of all the engineers moving about, chatting amongst themselves and working. Getting to his feet, he exited the booth.
“Hey y’all, I’m ’bout to get somethin’ to drink and make a call. Be back in like ten minutes.”
All the guys looked up at him and nodded, then went back to their work. Cain walked out of the studio area and into a quiet lobby. Not many people were there just yet. It was the wee hours of the morning. It felt odd no longer going to his construction jobs. He had to let that go; his schedule was now too demanding. But he kept his club gigs going, and now that word was spreading about his upcoming album, people were asking him for his autograph. It was suddenly a strange world to be in.
Sitting down on a burnt orange leather couch in a room with a fountain and television tuned to CNN, he dialed his mama.
“Now you know betta than to call me this early in the mornin’.” She chuckled. “How’s my favorite second born doin’?”
“Good, Mama… good.” He smiled. “Look, uh, do we have any relatives that you know of, wit’ the last name of Adrieux?”
Mama drew quiet as if she was thinking hard. “Honey, I need to get my coffee. My brain ain’t turned on right now, but I think we do. Frieda would know better than me, but we can’t ask ’er now, can we?”
“I don’t reckon we can, Mama. I’ll give you a call back later about it.”
“Now, wait a minute… what brought this on?”
He heard Mama’s feet shuffling in the background.
“It’s a long story but see, Tapestry got this patient, Ms. Robertson, that stay over in the Garden District. She got dementia and is in poor health so sometimes she go like in and outta tha past. She saw me one day and flipped the hell out. Fast forward, Tapestry found a picture of a man she was in love with, and Mama, I swear on everything, he and I look just like… it’s like seein’ my reflection.”
“Hmmmm, and his name is Adrieux?”
“Yes ma’am… Thomas Adrieux.”
“Mmmm, that’s interestin’. Hold that thought.” Mama started putting her coffee on. He could hear the all too familiar sounds of the pot being filled with water, the rustle of the filters, and her getting that little scoop for the coffee grounds. “All right. Now, my mind is kinda fuzzy about it, but I believe my mother had some Adrieux folks, like cousins. He look just like you, huh?”
“Dead ringer. The nose, the eyes, the lips, the jawline… everything, Mama. Even our hairline is almost exact. We could be twins.”
“Everybody gotta a doppelgänger. But I tell you what, he might’ve been related to you, honey, ’cause we did have some Adrieux folks. I’m sure of it now.” Mama yawned. “Did Tapestry say where this man was from?”
“Not in her text, but she told me a long time ago that Ms. Robertson had grown up in Lake Shore. Her family had a lotta money, but she used to sneak over to Caddo Parrish wit’ her friends and go to the clubs and what not. That’s where she met this man.”
“Shreveport… yes, Mama had folks there. I’ll do some diggin’ and call you back later, baby.”
“All right, Mama. I love you.”
“Love you too, Rooster.”
He laughed as she hung up the phone.
Mama hadn’t called him Rooster since he was a kid. He used to always be the first one up in the mornings, and now he’d called her all early once again, waking her up.
He texted Tapestry back:
Cain: Songbird, that’s crazy. Called Mama. She said we got Adrieux in our family & got kin in Shreveport. That man might be a relative of mine. Thanks 4 showing me. I’ll C U tonight. I love you.
Songbird : It shook my soul when I saw it. I love you too.
Cain: How’s she doing 2day?
Songbird : Not too good, but she is smiling at least. Her daughters haven’t been here in 2 days. I don’t know how they can live with themselves. She’s dying and they aren’t spending any time with her.
Cain: I told you blood isn’t thicker than water, baby. A perfect stranger can give u more kindness than someone you’ve known ur whole life. Some people don’t have any soul. I’m hungry. Can’t wait to see u 2nite and lay you down. I want 2 eat that cookie.
Songbird : U so nasty. LOL. I can’t wait to hear your new song! XOXOXOXO
Cain slid his phone back into his pocket and soon found himself back inside the studio booth. He sat down, picked up his guitar, and smiled. Something about seeing that man in the picture had uplifted his spirit. He wasn’t certain as to why, but it was like looking into the eyes of his past. He strummed his guitar a time or two, getting warmed up to begin working again.
This here music and my girl are my future. I can’t wait to see it all unfold…
Two weeks later
“You fat ass bitch!!!” Agnes lunged at Tapestry with tears in her eyes. The attorney, a dapper fellow dressed in a red and white polka dot bow tie, jumped up from his seat.
“Now you sit yer behind down! If I have to cancel this and reschedule and have a police officer present, I will,” he yelled.
Tapestry looked the bitch up and down and crossed her legs. If she said so herself, she was dressed quite beautifully that day, especially since it was such a tragic one. Ms. Robertson was on her deathbed. It was only a matter of time. Her attorney had called a meeting with the three of them, and things had gotten ugly—fast.
She smoothed out the creases in her navy-blue skirt. She’d paired this with a matching pair of navy shoes and a white crisp top with frills, an outfit she believed Ms. Robertson would like. She even donned a vintage 1940s netted navy cap she’d picked up from a thrift store. This was the attire of a queen.
“Now…” The attorney took his seat and began again. “Ms. Robertson was in her right mind when she revised these documents in her will, Agnes and Angelica.”
“Says who?” Angelica questioned with venom in her tone.
“Say her physician and psychologist,” the lawyer continued. “Please look at when this last form was signed and dated… almost two years ago. She was still mobile and even drivin’ then.”
He flopped the papers down before the two scarecrow looking women, and their eyes filled with tears.
Each was wearing see through, short numbers, looking as trashy as ever. Tapestry searched in vain for a beating heart in either one of them. Those tears weren’t real… they weren’t born out of losing the one woman who’d raised and cared for them. No, they were not created from sheer sorrow; they were generated from pure, unadulterated anger.
Tapestry pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her lap as the women kept smacking their lips, rolling their eyes, and going through total dramatics. She, on the other hand, didn’t have the energy for such foolishness, even if she wished to engage. She’d spent all damn week with the woman, not going home or doing much of anything at all because Ms. Robertson was going t
hrough changes—seeing things… scared out of her mind. She couldn’t leave her that way for she was the only person Ms. Robertson trusted, and trust was a big damn deal.
“You coerced and tricked our mother, you overgrown…fat… fat… uhhhh, I don’t even know what to call you!”
“You can call me a nurse, is what you can call me. But more importantly, when was the last time you washed yo’ ass, Agnes? I can smell you from over yonder.” Tapestry actually couldn’t, but the woman looked like she stunk.
“You got your filthy hands on our mama’s money! That money is ours! We are her heirs. I knew she shouldn’t have hired you!”
“I didn’t ask your mama to do this! I ain’t even know about any of this and I am as surprised as both of you heffas but funny thing is, I ain’t seen neither hair nor tail of either of you beat up lookin’ banshees for a month of Sundays! Now you want to sit in here and pretend, in front of this man, like you been that woman’s Day Ones, daughters of the year. I would call you both, over and over, and you’d barely answer my calls so you can try ’nd sell that sob story to Mr. Jameson here, but I got a bucket you can put all dem crocodile tears in.”
“Is it the same bucket you store your fried chicken in? Colonel Sanders…” Agnes taunted, laughing garishly. “Bitch…”
“It just may be, but as they say… two tears in a bucket… mother fuck it… and you two fucked over your mama nice ’nd good. Yo mama coulda died eons ago and neither one of you heathens would be none the damn wiser. Now you got one mo’ time to call me outta my name, ya hear me? All you can come up wit’ is fat and bitch… like some two-year-old. Weight can be lost, but bein’ a shitty person is forever and you both fit the bill. And let me tell you somethin’ else.”