Never Again, No More

by Untamed

  “There is no easy way to say this. I really don’t want to, but I have to terminate your employment.” He let out an exasperated sigh.

  I put my hands up and pleaded with him as hot tears instantly flowed from my eyes. “But why? I didn’t do anything wrong! It’s not my fault he showed up here. You can’t be serious!” I exclaimed as my chest heaved up and down. Mr. Sharper stood up and walked around to comfort me. I shrugged away from him. “No! Don’t touch me! Give me my job back. That’s all I need. You know I have a daughter, Mr. Sharper. How could you do this to me now?”

  “It’s not me that’s doing this.”

  I jumped up, in a fit of rage, my eyes nearly bugging out and my hands trembling. “I’ll go to upper management on your ass! I won’t be had like this,” I seethed, getting up in his face. “I’m always the first here and on time! I’m the best at this job! I don’t call in! I don’t make frivolous time-off requests! And you do me like this? What happened to looking out for me?” I demanded, pointing my finger.

  “Please calm down!” he said sternly yet calmly, grabbing my hands and gently putting them down at my sides. “It’s not me, Lucinda. It’s not me,” he repeated.

  “Well, who?” I demanded, with my arms folded.

  Mr. Sharper rubbed his temples and shook his head.

  My attitude was on go, and I wouldn’t leave without my answer. I deserved that damn much. Rolling my neck, I jutted my head out and knew my eyes had to be bugged damn near out of my sockets. “Who?” I repeated.

  “Robin,” he blurted before he knew it. The look on his face told me that he’d let that tidbit slip, because of his frustration. I assumed that since he’d already let the cat out of the bag, he would explain further. He did. “Robin went to upper management about the incident and got them all riled up. They demanded that I release you. My hands are tied. I’m so sorry.”

  That news knocked the wind out of me, and I fell down into the chair. “I don’t believe this. That bitch!” I grumbled, thinking of a hundred ways to get at Robin.

  He sat beside me in the other chair. “Listen, I don’t want to do this. I went to bat for you and even told them I was aware of the issues you’d been having, but it didn’t do any good. They want you gone. I agree that Robin is wrong, but you mustn’t retaliate, because I was able to get the company to arrange a few things for you. You can work until the end of your shift today, so it won’t be so obvious, and I was able to finagle a two-month severance pay package out of HR for you.”

  “Two months,” I whispered.

  “If you file for unemployment, just give them my direct number, and I won’t deny the claim, so you’ll have those benefits until you can find something else,” he explained.

  He said some other stuff, but I didn’t hear him. It was as if time had stopped and I was stuck in a paradox. I felt the panic rise in my chest. What the fuck was I going to do? I had rent, day care, bills and . . . my daughter. Oh, God. How was I going to afford to take care of Nadia? Susie Q didn’t pay a fraction of what I needed. Now, I had only two fucking months, in the middle of a recession, to figure some shit out. And I had no college education. Four years I had been with this bullshit company, and I get a “Thank you but fuck you” out the door. Yet the workers who called in constantly, were late constantly, and had substandard performance were able to look forward to coming to a nice twelve-dollar-an-hour job.

  “Why are they doing this to me?” I asked, looking at Mr. Sharper. My voice cracked, as it was so full of emotion.

  His expression was so sympathetic and sorrowful. “They say having you here is a security risk to the rest of us. I really don’t know what else to say besides I’m sorry,” he told me.

  I stood, rubbing the back of my neck. “Well, I guess there is nothing else to say.”

  Following suit, he stood as well. “Ms. Rojas, you have my sincerest apology again. I know none of this is any consolation right now. I’ll be sure that your checks are mailed to your house,” he said in an attempt to comfort me. He swiped a business card from his desk and handed it to me. “And, like I said, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate.”

  I took his card and turned it around in my hand. “I better go.”

  “You can stay for the rest of the—”

  “No. I can grab my picture and purse and go. I can’t sit here like this. I have to go and try to find . . . a job,” I said in disbelief.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said again, sympathetically.

  “It’s not your fault. You only did what you were told.”

  “It doesn’t make it right or make me any less of an ass,” he said.

  His words caught me off guard. It was the first time I realized how truly earnest he was about his regret about this situation. Although I was pissed, his kindness gave me a brief moment of comfort and pity for the position he was in.

  “You can’t put your livelihood at risk for me. This is my problem, and I’ll deal with it like everything else. Don’t stress for me,” I offered, putting up a huge-ass front yet thankful for his genuine concern.

  A look of surprise crossed his face, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I truly admire you,” he told me.

  I didn’t respond. Politely, I simply nodded my head, turned, left his office, gathered my picture of Nadia and my purse, then walked out. I didn’t want to leave my friends on stuck, so I called Ann’s extension once I got to my car, and told her what had happened. She and Katherine wished me well and told me that they’d miss me, and we exchanged telephone numbers so that we could keep in touch. Once I got in my car, I drove to a nearby office building parking lot and parked, let my seat back, and cried my eyes out. My soul felt as if it had been ripped out of my body. How much pain could a twenty-one-year-old woman take? Sometimes I wished I would just die, because Heaven had to be better than this place. I was convinced that Earth was a nickname for Hell, since that was all I had ever experienced on it.

  I thought about my situation and what the hell I could do. I was a twenty-one-year-old woman with a high school diploma and no college education, and I had a child, a mountain of bills, and no job. I couldn’t sit around and wait on unemployment and severance pay. I had to make shit happen now. After picking up my cell, I made a call I never thought I’d make in a million years.

  “Please pick up,” I said aloud.

  “Talk to me. Who dis?” Pooch answered.

  “Pooch, this is Lucinda.”

  “Hey, what’s up, Mama?” he greeted. “Ain’t nothing going on with Trinity, right?” he asked almost as soon as he said hello.

  “No. I assume she’s fine. This is actually a personal call between you and me. I don’t want anyone to know about this,” I told him. “Not even Trinity.”

  “Hold up,” he said. It sounded like he was walking. “I had to get away from my crowd. So what’s up? What’s this all about?”

  “Um, do you still own that club downtown?”

  “Club Moet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, I do. What the hell you asking about that for?”

  “How much do your waitresses make?”

  “Banana money. Minimum, plus tips. Lu, what’s the deal?”

  I sighed. “Um, I really don’t need my business on the streets, Pooch,” I said after taking a deep breath. “Raul got me fired today.”

  “Oh fuck! Damn! That’s some foul shit, Mama! You need me to handle up on that nigga?”

  If Raul’s ass wasn’t in jail, I’d probably take Pooch up on his offer, I thought. “Nah, he ain’t even worth it. That hijo de puta is in jail right now anyway. Meanwhile, I’m jobless, and I need a gig until something breaks through,” I said, getting to the point.

  “You know how to mix drinks?” he asked. “They make twenty an hour, plus tips. You know the club is open only six hours, five days a week. They make decent.”

  “Can you teach me?”

  “Shit, Lu, I ain’t got time for that. The fuckin’ patrons be complaining and shit if
they liquor ain’t right and shit, so if you don’t know how to mix it up already, I can’t afford to put you on the bar. If you want to waitress and learn from there, then I could put you on after that.”

  “I can’t fucking be a waitress for the minimum. I was struggling to survive on what I was making at the insurance company.”

  “Unless you know about rims and auto mechanics, there really ain’t shit I can help you wit’, ’cause I know you ain’t down for the other stuff,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “You would know correct too,” I confirmed, knowing he was talking about slinging dope.

  “I understand, everybody ain’t built.” He blew out air. “Sorry. I ain’t got nothing else. If I come across something, I’ll hit you up and shit,” he offered.

  This news broke me down. There was no one else I could reach out to for a quick lick. Applications took time. And that was something I did not have. Fear struck me and I panicked about what I would do to take care of my kid. There was no way I could burden my mom with two additional mouths, and my bridge with Emilio had already been burned. Not that he’d extend the olive branch anyway. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and I was more than desperate. I was destitute.

  “Wait, Pooch,” I called out before he hung up. I couldn’t believe I was about to ask this. But Nadia’s picture on my key chain stared back at me, and for her, I’d do the unthinkable. “Um, do you, um, do you need any . . . you know . . . dancers at Moet?” I asked timidly, hiding my eyes as I even asked the question.

  “I mean, we always auditioning. If you got talent, we’ll put you on. Of course, you know they make good.”

  “Can I audition?”

  Pooch paused for a moment and then slowly said, “You do realize by dance, I mean strip. Moet is a strip club, Lu.”

  “I know that. I’m desperate.”

  “Damn,” he grumbled before continuing. “Well, if you’re serious, meet me and my manager, Greg, down there at eight tonight. We’ll audition you on the stage. You gon’ have to strip. Thong and sexy heels only. No tops, not even a bra. You got to show us some true skill. Something we can claim as your specialty.”

  Wait. I knew I would do anything for Nadia, but that pushed the limits. He couldn’t possibly mean I would have to strip in front of him. Nope. “Pooch, I ain’t auditioning in front of you! You’re my best friend’s man!”

  “Your choice, Lu. You called me. Greg and I make that decision together. Trust me, it’s only business. If you feel like you can’t do it, then don’t be there. But I’m trying to lace your pockets, Mama.”

  He was serious. Wow. I’d hit a true crossroads. I sat there for a moment in contemplation. “I don’t have to get down with y’all to get on, do I? ’Cause I’m not betraying Trinity like that. Hell, I’m not even sure I want to betray her by the audition.”

  “Hell naw. I’m a businessman, Lu. Too many of these skank-ass bitches get down with these grimy ass niggas. I ain’t bringing my babe back shit, and I’m scared shitless of that fuckin’ package.”

  “A loyal thug.”

  “You know how I am about Trin any fuckin’ way. So, look, all I’m saying is you got an audition, so show up and you could have a job. Don’t show up, and that’s your choice too, but then don’t call me again, because money I have to blow, but time I don’t,” Pooch said seriously.

  “I hear you,” I said, still undecided.

  “So I’m going to say, ‘See you at eight o’clock.’ Whether you do or don’t is up to you, but you’ve been put on notice. Remember that shit.”

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

  “It’s all love,” he said and then hung up.

  There were some lines that I felt that a person shouldn’t cross. Auditioning for a stripper gig in front of my homegirl’s dude surely was at the top of that list. The struggle stared me down like a hound, but my spirit felt disturbed about Pooch’s offer. Still, I entertained the idea for no other reason besides my kid. Maybe it was better to wait it out.

  Holding my head in my hands, I sat there for a few minutes, then called information to get the unemployment office’s number and made an appointment to go down there about my unemployment. At least that was taken care of. It was a start.

  After I hung up, I noticed a message on my cell phone. I retrieved it and was reminded about my overdue light bill. Disconnection was set for next week if I didn’t have their money. When it rained, it fucking poured. I shook my head at the message and my predicament. Anger consumed me. Fuck it. Fuck Raul. Fuck National Cross. Fuck school. Fuck my entire life. Wrong or not, I had to do what I had to do. I couldn’t allow Nadia to go without because of my fucked up life. Rolling my eyes at my phone, I deleted the message and cranked up my car.

  I headed downtown to go shoe shopping for some sexy heels. I had an appointment to keep tonight, at eight.

  LaMeka

  All Tony did these days was snort and drink. That nigga had dropped, like, thirty pounds and still thought his shit didn’t stink. None of his old crew—those that had any morals and standards—even fucked with him anymore, because he always stole and lied. His parents had even tried an intervention, but that shit had been a bust. Everybody except him was the damn problem, and especially me, because I didn’t have his back. Needless to say, that night I spent the night with Charice, because I knew an ass whupping was certain. By the time I got back the following day, he was so fucking high, all he wanted to do was fuck me any which way possible. Speaking of, the smartest move I had made in that regard was to invest in female condoms and get tested immediately after he and Kwanzie raped me. If that muthafucka had brought me back something, I would kill his ass on sight. That was a fucking promise. But he hadn’t. Thank God for small favors or, rather, big favors.

  To add to my concerns, I had to deal with my sister. I loved her like one of my own kids, but dealing with a seventeen-year-old wore on my nerves. We had begun butting heads, but it was only because I refused to let her get caught up with some shiftless Negro and end up like me. Uh-huh. Not finna happen. The last couple of weeks, she’d acted out terribly, and I was about to put a leash so tight around her damn neck that she wouldn’t be able to spit without me knowing what the hell she was doing.

  I just didn’t understand her. Didn’t she see the shit our mama and I had gone through? Didn’t she want better? I had got trapped only because I got pregnant. Otherwise, my life with Tony would be a different story. I constantly thought about what my life would’ve been like if I hadn’t got pregnant in high school and if Tony had fulfilled his dreams. He’d be an Olympian now, and I’d be an RN. Yeah, the good life. Instead, I lived off the system, stayed in city housing, and drove a car that a local drug dealer had bought for me, in addition to putting up with my abusive drug addict of a man and being solely responsible for the care of my autistic child. That was my life. That was my reality. People had killed themselves for less stressful things, and that was why I wanted better for Misha and myself.

  The combination of everything had set me on a mission, because Lord knows I couldn’t take this shit between Tony and me no fucking more. I was tired of being a prisoner in my own home. I had children to look out for, and I couldn’t do that if I was constantly stressed the hell out or beaten the fuck up. In the meantime, I did exactly what I needed to do: I saved up money between my job and Tony Jr.’s checks to get the hell away from Tony. My goal was to save at least a couple grand and then get the hell on.

  In the meantime, I found solace in the church and in confiding in the pastor. The Word of God was a powerful thing. I felt that my soul was cleansed with each visit to church, and I knew God wanted better for me, and He had helped me see that I needed better for myself. My life wasn’t to be spent suffering because of my and Tony’s mistakes. I was supposed to learn to live life despite them, so that was what I aimed to do. That was why I was saving up to move and pursuing an education. I had bought the GED book, and nowadays I studied so I could get my GED. And then I wanted to go
to college to get my LPN and R.N. licenses.

  With all that I’d planned, I felt guilty and sad, because despite all Tony’s misgivings, he really needed help, and I felt like I was leaving him when he probably needed me the most. I felt sad because Tony was the only man I’d loved for the past eight years. It didn’t matter what all he’d put me through. It all came down to my love for him, and I loved him with all my heart. I was down for him, and I was willing to ride or die for him, but I just wasn’t prepared to die because of him. At some point, I had to draw a line in the sand. At some point, I had to say, “Never again. No more will I deal with this abuse, this drug use, or this lifestyle.” Sure, I loved him, but I just couldn’t be a fool in love anymore, and I prayed for the strength to, as Pooch would say, remember that shit.

  After finding out Bible study was canceled this particular day, I was bummed out the entire drive back home. Perhaps, I could use the free time to play with my sons and talk to Misha. I prayed Tony wasn’t there. I liked when he went on binges and stayed gone for two or three days. It was sad that I had a man and didn’t want him around as much as he didn’t want to be around. But now I was just happy for the brief peace of mind.

  When I walked in the house, I found the boys alone in the living room.

  “Hey, babies,” I said and kissed LaMichael and Tony Jr. on the forehead as they sat in the playpen together. “Where’s your auntie?” I asked them as I sat my Bible and my purse down on the sofa.

  I went into the hallway and knocked on the hall bathroom door, but Misha wasn’t in there. That was strange. I knew she’d never put Tony Jr. in the playpen unless she had to use the bathroom. I figured she must’ve gone to my bathroom, since I heard the stereo as I opened my bedroom door.

  “Hey, Misha, I—” My words lodged in my throat. I just knew . . . I mean . . . I just knew . . . my baby sister was not in the bed with my baby daddy . . . fucking!

  Instantly, my mind replayed the day I had caught Kwanzie and Tony in my bed. Every time I left the house, I came back to a bitch in my bed. But this time, this muthafucking time, the low-down dirty bitch was my . . . sister. My sister? I couldn’t believe this shit. And here I had felt sorry for this nigga and shit, but it definitely wasn’t going down like the last time. Hell to the muthafucking no.