“Place yo hands where I can see ‘em!”
“Elmo, go to dah truck and get dah rope and crowbar, we’s fixin to hav-ow-selfs some fun.”
I felt Life nudging me to pass him the gun. I did what white people usually do in them scary movies, stand motionless when they were in danger. I literally just sat there unable to move while the white man had that gun to Life’s head.
“Hope! Hope! Hope!” Life whispered my name like sips of a dying man’s last breath. Lawd have mercy, I was afraid to move.
The car door flung open and a malodorous smell of unwashed bodies and whisky filled the air. A glumy face with rotten teeth and manes of dirty blond hair and blue eyes stared at me with the look of the devil. The other face was hulkish, with a large bulbous nose and a shaggy beard. Their lupine laughter echoed in the night like crazed hyenas on a frenzy for the hunt about to kill. A white man’s sport.
“You sho’ll is purdy,” the white man with the blond hair said as he tried to caress my hair. I moved my head.
“Elmo, lookahera. She’s a purdy black gurl. Nah all we wanna do missy is tie ya’ll up and have ourselves a lil fun,” he snickered and scratched his privates.
Life’s hand was under the seat now and I really thought he was going to be foolish and grab the gun.
“Put yo hands up and get out da car. Jumbo, tie the gurl up first.”
“Hold up! I have money. Lots of it, just don’t hurt the girl.”
“Huh?” The gunman peered closer to Life as if he were examining some fine specimen of a nigger. The word money had his attention.
As I looked on, to my horror in what looked like blazing speed, Life grabbed the gun. A tussle ensued and the gun fired. I screamed, shattering the lull of the night. Life hung onto the old man with a death grip. The old white man must have been as strong as a bear, because he pulled Life through the window like he was a little rag doll. The other two men ran to the other side of the car to help their partner. Vaguely, I thought I heard Life yell for me to get the gun, but I was scared to death. I couldn’t move.
Though blinded by the high beam lights, I watched the silhouette of bodies ensconced in the throes of death’s struggle, as Life Thugstin fought for his life. The other two men were now pummeling him with blows and somehow, amazingly with the brute strength of determination, he held on to the gun. I watched as one of the white men drew back hitting Life with an iron crowbar. He cried out in pain. To me, at that moment, at that time, his cries sounded like the vociferous shrieks of a million dying Black men being tortured. They were going to kill Life, just as sure as I sat there in the car doing nothing, just as sure as the moon and the stars would bear witness once again to the senseless atrocities waged against a human life.
In the torrid passion of insurmountable fears, something loomed in me that I have never felt before, it seized my body, pushing me forward. Rage! The kind of rage that made me lash out without caring. I grabbed the gun from inside the glove compartment. It was heavy. I staggered out of the car into the dreary night. Something possessed me. The white man that tried to touch my hair was about to wack Life in the back with the crowbar once again. I fired the gun. The sound was deafening. A blast of orange exploded around my head. I was nearly knocked to the ground but somehow I managed to keep my balance.
“Muthafucka, get the fuck off of him! Now bitch, or I’ll blow your muthafuckin brains out!” I yelled as spittle dribbled off my lips like a deranged maniac on drugs. My hands trembled as I aimed the gun. Tears streaked my cheeks. They all backed up off of Life, leaving his lifeless body lying in a heap in the weeds and dirt. I called his name, “Life … Life!” He did not move. One of the men was holding a knife in his hand. Oh my God! My eyes darted to the knife and back to Life. A lone car passed. Three pairs of eyes stared at me.
The leader spoke as he inched toward me. “Naw, Missy give me dat dere gu–”
Pow! I fired the gun at his head.
“Get on the ground now!” I heard the crowbar hit the ground. They all tried to get as flat as the dirt.
“Please don’t shoot, lady,” I heard one of them cower.
As if being awakened from the dead, Life moved and sat up rubbing his head the way people do when they are trying to get over a hangover. I watched as he slowly rose and walked over to me. There was a cut above his eye and his mouth was bleeding. I swear to God I wanted to hug that man, that thug. There was no doubt in my mind he would give his life for me.
“Give me the gun!” he said with a tone in his voice that let me know he was in control.
At that moment, I just fell apart, a fragile husk of myself. I fell into his arms. He whispered in my hair for me to go sit in the car.
I walked to the car with legs that felt like rubber with weights attached to them. Once inside the car, I looked at my watch–1:48
a.m.
Life now held a flashlight and rope he had taken off the men. At gunpoint he made them all strip naked and walked them into the woods. Fear danced with death’s flirtation as I sat in the car praying to a god that not even I was sure of.
It seemed like Life had been gone for an eternity when I heard the shots ring out, and then Life came running from out of the woods. I noticed that he was limping badly.
“What did you do?” I asked as soon as he entered the car. He ignored me.
“See if the car will start,” he said out of breath. His body omitted an odor. I wondered if it was death. Another car passed and I couldn’t help thinking I just wanted to get away, safe.
I turned the key, praying with all my heart, that Betty would start. Please baby, please start for mama. The motor turned over. I knew the sound like I knew my own voice. She sputtered and then died with a cough. Life watched me like I was a judge about to decide his fate. I turned the key again and she started like a brand new motor. “Thank you Jesus,” I mumbled. Life hopped out of the car, picked up the hunting knife off the ground, sliced all the tires on the truck and ran back to the car.
“Let’s go,” he said with emotion in his voice. I eased the car onto the road. I did not realize I was that cold until I felt the heat on my feet. Life was jabbering away with the adrenaline rush of a man who had just received a last minute reprieve from the electric chair.
“Goddamn, Hope, that was some gangsta shit you pulled back there. I just wished you hadn’t taken so damn long. Them crackas was tryin to kick the bone outta my ass-.”
We passed a sign that read “Kissimmee, Florida.” 176 miles to Tallahassee. My mind was all over the place.
“Life what did you do to those men? I heard shots.” My voice cracked, like too much pressure on a dam.
“Girl, do you know what them crackas was gettin ready to do to us … to you?” His eyes finished the statement when he looked at me saying that they were going to rape me. He fired up a cigarette as I drove through the night wishing the car would go faster. I turned on Route 19, a thoroughfare that goes through the hub of the city. The town looked rural and antebellum; still I found it comforting to be back within city limits. The streets were lined with stores and small businesses, hotels and restaurants and the speed limit was 35.
I passed through the toll booth and paid a dollar. On both sides of the streets were police cars. “Smile,” Life told me. For the benefit of the police, I spread my weary lips across my teeth and displayed a smile as fake as the plastic fruit Grandma kept on her dining room table. After what I had just experienced back there, mentally and physically, I was exhausted. We drove in silence, and then it happened, the car slowed, kicked and sputtered. The motor died. I coasted into a parking place on the side of the road. Once we stopped, the reality of my grim situation pushed me over the edge and I completely lost it!
“Nooooo! Nooooo! Noooo!” I wailed, pounding my fists on the steering wheel. The last twelve hours had been too much for me to handle. It felt like I was having a nervous breakdown.
Slowly, I turned my head, and glared at Life. He was looking at me with shock written all ov
er his face, the way a person does when they are trying to decide if you have lost your damn mind.
“You!” I screamed at him, pointing an accusing finger in his face. “Ever since I laid eyes on you, everything that can go wrong has.” I felt tears brimming on the rim of my eyes. “I want to go home. I don’t want to be stranded with you, and God please tell me, what did you do to those men back there?!” My voice pleaded. I was winded. The police cruiser that was at the toll booth, passed.
“Smile,” Life said.
“Shiiit,” I hissed, showing my teeth for a different reason, looking like an angry possum about to attack his ass.
“Listen Hope,” Life said. His voice was diplomatic, but I could tell he was fighting for self-control. We were two people getting on each other’s nerves.
“You should have never attempted to make a trip in this car. The radiator leaks, the motor is bad and some mo shit.” The cadence of his voice changed almost as if he were talking to a small child.
“Hope we’re just about two hours outside of Tallahassee. We can walk, sleep in the car, or we can get a few hours of rest at a hotel while the car is getting fixed. I saw a Holiday Inn a few miles back. I’ll call a tow truck and we can leave first thing in the morning.”
I slumped over the steering wheel placing my head over my arms. I was exhausted, my head hurt and just the thought of a long luxurious bath was tempting.
“We’ll sleep in separate rooms,” he assured. His words a gambit. I figured, what did I have to lose? It was 2:00 a.m. and I was tired. Spending the night in my car just did not appeal to me. So I agreed under those conditions.
About thirty minutes later a tow truck was being hooked up to my car. I grabbed my meager luggage and the three one hundred dollar bills in the ashtray. Ever since I was a little girl, there had always been something about hotels that I found alluring. They made me feel like something I have never enjoyed, a vacation. At the Holiday Inn we got separate rooms with an adjoining door. I kept mine locked.
As soon as we got our rooms, he walked me to mine like a complete gentleman, and then went to the bar to get something to drink. I took a long, hot luxurious shower that felt so good I did not want to come out of there. Afterward, I put on my nightie and crashed underneath the covers, but I could not sleep. Life’s face kept appearing on the screen of my mind.
OK, I can’t lie, curiosity was killing me. It also killed the cat, or in my case, I should say kitty. *****
Chapter Four
“Fahrenheit of Lust”
– Hope –
Curiosity got the best of me and I made the second biggest mistake of my life. The first one was helping him and now this. I tiptoed to the door, unlocked it and then tried his door. It opened. A single dim light shined in the room. Life sat perched in a chair in front of a large picture window with the blinds opened wide. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. The gleaming swimming pool in front of his room reflected a kaleidoscope of colors off of his body. A cigarette dangled from his finger as gray smoke ringed his head.
On the table was a bag of ice, a fifth of Hennessy and a shot glass half filled. For some reason I just watched that man as the smoke curled out his mouth, the stolid face of a Black man impelled by his thoughts. Lord knows he had a lot to think about. Again I wondered if he killed those men. I also wondered was I attracted to him, a thug.
He took a sip of his drink, pinky finger extended, then he made a face the way people do from a drink of strong liquor as he stared at something out the window. Whatever it was held his attention. Moments passed and he had me looking too, and suddenly it dawned on me what he was looking at–Me!!
“Do you always creep into people’s rooms spyin’ on them when you think they’re not watching?”
I was cold busted. The entire time, he was looking at me through the reflection in the window. Slowly he turned toward me and I could see the scar underneath his eye. Something was missing, something was wrong. This was the intimate part of the man without his mask, hurt prevailed on his face and instantly I regretted coming into his room. His eyes roamed my body for a fleeting second and then looked away, as if he were dismissing me.
“Go and get some rest. We got a long day tomorrow with the car and all.” His words were languid, he sounded tired. I just stood there, lost for words, not able to describe what I was feeling for this man. Maybe it was sympathy wrapped up in a big ole ball of sorrow.
I was wearing practically nothing. My nightie was very transparent. It was made of sexy satin and lace, cut short way above the thigh. The cleavage was more than an eyeful since I wasn’t wearing a bra. I was about as nude as a woman could get except for my panties. Talk about a girl’s pride. “Can I have a drink?” I heard my voice say, husky with a feminine timber of boldness.
“Hope, I got a lot on my mind,” he said running his hand over his short cropped hair. “Get some rest, I’ll have breakfast waiting for you when you wake in the morning.”
He just stared at something in the window. Something only he could see. I recognized the hurt on that man’s face, the way only a woman can. Barefooted, I padded across the shag carpeting and fixed myself a drink. He turned and looked at me annoyingly.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said, girl?” His voice was slightly slurred. I ignored him and bent down to retrieve a piece of ice that I intentionally dropped to the floor. I flirted just to get his attention, to see his reaction. Ever since we met, he treated me like his little sister. The man never paid the slightest bit of attention to me. I wondered if there was such a thing as a gay thug. I sat down right in front of him, crossed my legs ladylike and took a swig of my drink. It burned in a nice way. Quiet engulfed us like a gentle storm. I was lost for words. What am I doing? I continued to ask myself.
“So what are you going to do when you get to Tallahassee?” I asked.
“I dunno … I dunno …” he shook his head somberly. “Maybe find a job and save up some money to go to night school, get me a lawyer.”
“Yeah, that would be a good idea. You could use a good lawyer, because you damn sure know how to find trouble. You are a jinxy-ass man.” With that, he erupted in hilarious laughter, full and vibrant. The kind of hearty laughter that would stand out in a room full of people, loud and jovial. It reminded me of Eddie Murphy’s singsong cackle. Masculine and strong, I couldn’t help but smile, too as tears rolled down his cheeks as he continued to laugh. I poured myself another drink, a nightcap I told myself. I already had a buzz. I took a sip and raised up to stand, I slightly staggered but he did not notice. “I’m going to get some rest. Check out time is 11 o’clock and it’s just about 4 o’clock.” He just looked at me, his ebony eyes opaque slants, eyes that I couldn’t read. He stood. His bronze body was sculpted like one of them African statues of a warrior. His stomach was chiseled. His brawny chest was big and hairy. He wore a large platinum chain.
The light from the swimming pool shimmered off our bodies. I bit down on my bottom lip as he walked toward me. No one can convince me that a man and a woman, in the solitude of the night, confronted by their riveting intimacy, do not produce a kind of celestial energy that holds them bound to the laws of nature. It’s fervid heat of unquenched passion. I felt my body tingling as if I were on fire. I knew that if he touched me we would both burn in a fahrenheit of passion. The Hennessy, mingled with his manly scent, was like an aphrodisiac to my feminine loins.
“Hope I’m sorry for everything that I’ve put you through. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, and to be truthful with you, I’m really not a …not a …” he stammered and for some reason I felt my body leaning toward him like how gravity pulls.
“I’m really not a jinx,” he said awkwardly. This time I burst out in laughter spraying his face with spittle. For some reason, I was feeling giddy. I wiped his face with an affectionate hand. He kissed my fingers and then pecked me on the forehead like I was his little sister and gently pushed my shoulders.
“Get some sleep Shouty, I’ll wake y
ou in the morning,” he said, as he smiled displaying that dimple. Just as he was about to turn away, I flung my arms around him, lassoing his neck, kissing him fully. At first he did not respond. So I kissed him with everything I had. I grinded my torso against his manhood and then I felt him respond as his hands went under my nightie palming my ass. The fire was ignited. The torrid passion of flames roared. His lips found their way to my neck as his hands pulled my gown down exposing my breasts. My nipples were erect. He squeezed and sucked them greedily. I moaned. I could feel his stiff erection running down my thigh. His lips and tongue trailed my flesh, licking me like I was sweet molasses. I was moist and getting wetter with every touch. Then something panged in me. This was not right. Through the fog of alcohol and fervid lust, clarity began to crystallize. This is not right! What am I doing? What am I doing? I thought to myself, finally I shouted, “Stop!” I placed my hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away, but he just kept pulling on my panties, tugging.
“No, please!” I begged. It was as if I awakened something dormant in this man. Something bestial. He was not listening to me. He had my panties around my thighs and then pushed me against the dresser, pinning me there. I felt my panties being torn. There is a name for this and I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. In one quick motion he slid out of his pants. His erection was enormous and crooked, leaning to one side. It felt like he carried me on it as I was being picked up and taken to the bed.
“No,” I whimpered, but even to me it sounded like “yes” and I wasn’t putting up much of a fight. Even as he climbed in between my legs placing on a condom, my futile resistance seemed to only excite and arouse him more. “Noooo …” My words were silenced with his kisses. He was in between my legs and his touch was as gentle as a feather. I was still saying “no” as he entered me slowly. The pain was excruciating. I never knew that hurt could feel so good.
“Hope,” he called my name like I was his goddess. With that, my legs spread and invited him into my kingdom–open sesame.
Life Page 4