Niya

by Fabiola Joseph

  Chapter 42

  Niya

  Three weeks into this music shit and I was killing it. Well, I was starting a little buzz for myself. The video was doing great and had over seventy-five thousand views so far. The next song that I was going to drop was going to be “The Problems,” the song that June had liked but hadn’t thought was right for a first single.

  It was a Friday night, and I was in Rodney’s basement. This time, Jamilla was with me. She had never really spoken about what the breakdown she had had was about. I had tried to speak to her about it, but she would just say that for a brief moment, she had cracked, and that I had come in and saved her . . . as I always did. No matter what it was, I knew that I had to try to keep her close. I had never told her, but she’d scared me that day. Her cries had been so deep, so full. It had seemed as if she was crying out for help, but the truth was, I didn’t know how to help her. All I could do was offer her my love and be there for her in any way I could.

  “So, are you going to be the lead in this video?”

  I had been wanting to ask Jamilla that all day and hadn’t known how. I thought that she was perfect for it, because the song was about her. I had a gay girl problem, while she was dealing with her “straight” girl problem. I watched as her eyes bulged; she looked petrified.

  “I am not a video ho,” she joked, but I knew that there was way more to it.

  “Come on, Milla boo. I really want you to be the lead in this one. I wrote it with you in mind.”

  She sat there for a minute before asking to see the paper I had written the lyrics on. Once she’d read them over, she shook her head violently.

  “Oh, hell no. What will I look like being in a video with you talking about her need for pussy is starting to blossom?”

  I had to laugh at that one. First, because the line was funny, and secondly, because the shit was true.

  “When are you going to let this shit go, Jamilla? No one fucking cares what you are . . . well . . . besides you.”

  Chapter 43

  Jamilla

  I wanted to be in her video—hell, I would have been in the first one—but reading the line “as her need for pussy is starting to blossom” kind of had me rethinking even wanting to be in any of the videos. I was fine with everything else, but that one line . . . it got to me. So, I just sat there, smoking and drinking one cup full of Cîroc after the other, and just thought about things as Niya put the finishing touches on her song. I was in the land of the lost when I heard Niya talking to June.

  “Nah, she said she doesn’t want to do it. Just call one of them bad bitches from the other video and have them come through.”

  As I watched June turn to leave, it was as if my mouth spoke from the heart and not from my brain.

  “I will do it,” I declared.

  They all stopped, looked at each other, and then to me.

  “What did you just say?” Niya asked as she stared at me.

  “I said . . . I’ll do it. Are we filming today?”

  Niya turned to June as we all waited for the answer. June asked to see the lyrics to the song, and then he read them over and took a second to think about things.

  “Can we film this one in your room? Rodney was telling me that your joint is kinda hot, with all the posters and shit. That would be hot,” June said as he played with his phone.

  After Niya gave the okay, they all turned to me. I had only one thing to say.

  “Let’s go.”

  As we headed out the door, Rodney put his arm around my neck and said, “Now that you said yes, there’s no backing out. I will tie you to her bed if I have to. You are way hotter than that other chick, so I am not letting you go.”

  I smiled and stepped out of his house. I waited for him to lock the door as Niya and June walked ahead.

  * * *

  June and Rodney had taken a good forty-five minutes to set everything up. As Niya and I waited on the couch for them to call us in, more smoke and liquor flowed through my body.

  “You sure you want to do this? You seem kind of nervous,” Niya said.

  I laughed and leaned into her. She was right beside me, with her skin against mine. Her cologne was intoxicating, and I wanted to get closer to her.

  “You can tell, huh? Well, as I thought about it, I thought about all the actors who have played gay characters. Some were straight and had no problem playing a gay role, so fuck it.”

  “So you’re gonna get your Brokeback Mountain on, huh?”

  We both laughed.

  “You know what, Niya? I want you to know that I love you more than I could ever need you.”

  We locked eyes for a second, and the tension was thick. With me so close to her, her arm around my neck, and her lips so close, she broke the tension and started to laugh.

  “You, you’re fucked up,” she told me.

  I stared at her smiling lips and could think of doing only one thing.

  “Yeah, I am. So what?”

  She laid her head back and let it rest against the couch. Damn. I couldn’t take being so close to her and not doing the one thing I wanted to do so badly.

  “Niya?”

  “Yes, Jamilla boo?”

  Oh my God, she was so close. She was the only thing in view. She and her little peach-colored lips, her long, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, her fitted hat. Even her damn jeans and T-shirt turned me on. She was so fucking perfect, from her head to her Jordans.

  “I love you.”

  She smiled again, and that shit sent shock waves through my body.

  “I love you too. I love you more than life itself.”

  That did it. I leaned into her, and at first, I kissed her lips softly. She pulled away—I guessed from amazement—but with one look into my eyes, she seemed to know what I wanted. When our mouths met again, a small moan escaped mine. It was as if I had been destitute, without a home, without a hope in the world, deprived of love. But when I felt her lips again, my luck had changed. I was now rich, not with money, but with love. I was rich with everything that I had been missing. It was as if, because of her, I was alive. Because of that kiss, I lived.

  Our tender kiss became more aggressive as the need for more of her, the need for more of Niya, drove the reality of my sexuality home. My need for pussy was blossoming right before my eyes, and in that moment, I didn’t give a shit. I wanted her, yes, and I needed her, and I loved her so damn much. The whole “I’m straight” thing seemed to fly out the window, and I kissed her as if I was really ready to let go of all the denial.

  “Niya, Jamilla, we’re ready,” June called from the bedroom.

  While I was in her embrace, it was as if the world slowed down to the pace of our beating hearts. I pulled away from Niya’s lips reluctantly, and this time, it was my turn to ask.

  “Are you ready?”

  She stood up, took my hand, and said, “Hell, fucking yes.”

  * * *

  The lights were low at first. Throughout the video, they would go from using a red light to a black light to a flashing strobe. The whole point of the video was that I was fighting what I was feeling. So we started out shooting the strained scenes, the scenes where I was fighting the fact that I loved this woman, and that came easy to me. She would pull me close; I would pull away. She would try to kiss me, and I would stand up and go sit in the chair, but soon the fight in me would lessen. My need for Niya was overpowering, and not just in the video.

  The second half was what I enjoyed filming the most. Everything just came together so easily. Kissing her, being on top of her, letting her pull off my clothes, rubbing my body against hers, it all was just so easy. We were so free, so wild. The funny thing was that as Niya stayed in character and made sure to mouth her lyrics, I was totally gone. I had forgotten why I was there, and to me, this was real.

  As Niya slipped on top of me, I opened my legs and enjoyed her. I pulled her into me, and the place between my legs throbbed. I kissed her and let her tongue leave my mouth and make its
way to my neck. I moaned, and I took her hand from my breast and pushed it down. I pushed it past my belly button and let it rest between my legs. I wanted to scream when I felt the pressure of her thumb through my pants.

  “Fuck that. Take them off,” I demanded.

  “Whoa, whoa. Do you want us to leave?”

  Oh shit. I had been flung back into reality by Rodney’s voice.

  “No, no. Are we done?” I asked as I sat up and pushed Niya off of me.

  The room was quiet, and no one answered.

  “Hello. Are we done?” I asked again.

  “Um, we just need some shots of you alone and a few of Niya,” Rodney replied.

  “Well, hurry up. I have to go home,” I mumbled.

  Just like that, my mood had changed. Hearing Rodney’s voice had brought me back from what had felt like a dream world. I was a little embarrassed at how loose I had probably seemed to the two men. Niya must have sensed my shift in mood, because she didn’t say much as they filmed my solo shots. She just sat there and smoked.

  Chapter 44

  Niya

  There really wasn’t much to say. I knew what had happened, and after our beautiful day, I just didn’t feel like addressing that shit. Instead, I just sat and watched her. She was so damn beautiful, and just the thought of having her for that very brief moment was enough. After she finished her solo shoot, I walked her to the door and took the time to let her know that things were okay.

  “Thank you for doing this, Jamilla.”

  She gave me a weak smile and said, “You’re welcome. I can’t wait to see it. Call me later?”

  I didn’t answer her. I just leaned out the door, and with my right hand, I pulled her into me from her waist.

  “I meant what I said. I love you, boo,” I told her.

  She got close, with no rejection of my affection. I felt her take in a deep breath and heard her say that she loved me too.

  That was when we heard it, loud screaming, the kind that either brought you out of your apartment or kept you in it out of fear.

  “Yo, you hear that?”

  Rodney had come out of my bedroom, and after he uttered this question, we all headed out the door. I was leading the pack and was the first one to lay eyes on the action. Once on-site, I stopped everyone behind me and motioned for them to stay quiet. When I looked around and saw that we were the only ones watching, I motioned for Jamilla to step up and peep around the stairway. I watched her, because I didn’t want to miss her reaction. As we stood there, I tried my hardest to understand her facial expressions, but I couldn’t. As she watched the three girls kick, punch, and slap Marie, it was as if she was just staring into air. She didn’t come out of her trance until the three girls held Marie down, pulled down her pants, and one of the girls asked for the bat.

  “Niya, we have to stop them,” she said, with her eyes still on the action.

  “Are you sure? Marie deserves this, all of it,” I said, a little disappointed. I wanted them to take that bat and shove it right up her cunt. I wanted them to ruin her insides to the point where she wouldn’t be able to have children. I wanted her to go through life knowing that her own actions had caused her inability to procreate.

  “Yes, stop them now.”

  I stepped out from behind the wall slowly, with Rodney, June, and Jamilla behind me.

  “Ladies, ladies, let me,” I said as I walked up to the girls and held my hand out for the bat. “Jamilla, come stand by me.”

  I waited for Jamilla to join me. Then I asked the three girls to sit Marie up so that she was facing her stepsister. She was bloody, with damn near everything on her face bleeding.

  “I know about that nasty-ass shit you helped Jamilla’s mother do to her. Now I’m about to take this bat and shove it up your ass,” I growled.

  Like clockwork, Marie started to beg.

  “Don’t beg me. Beg her. My mind’s made up. I’m about to fuck you nice and deep with this bitch.” I looked over to my right. “Go watch the door and make sure that no one comes in the building,” I said to Rodney.

  He looked shocked as hell, but he still followed my directions. Once he was in place, I pressed the bat against her opening.

  “Jamilla, please don’t let her do this. Please!” Marie pleaded.

  “Shut up, bitch. Who was there to stop you when you and Jamilla’s mom held her down?” I asked as I added pressure to her slit.

  “I will never do that again. Please, no, Jamilla! Please.”

  I looked over at Jamilla and held the bat up to her. “Take it and do what you want with it, but hurry.”

  Jamilla took the bat from me and walked up to her stepsister and just stared at her.

  “Come on, Milla boo. We gotta wrap this up,” I urged.

  Finally, she spoke. “Get up,” she demanded.

  Once Marie was on her feet, Jamilla spoke again. “Let this be a warning and a thought that you must never forget. Always remember that it was me that saved you from a bat being shoved up your ass. When you think of what could’ve happened today, just remember that it was me, the girl you held down. The girl whom you smiled at as her own mother violated her. Remember that it was the girl whom your father has been molesting who saved you on this day. Now go.”

  I watched as Marie started to walk away, and felt that she was getting off too easy. “Ay, you, bitch. When you get home, make sure to wash your ass. You fucking smell like rotting fish. Nasty-ass bitch,” I yelled.

  Everyone fell into laughter except for Jamilla and me. I just continued to mean mug Marie, but inside, I was beaming. I had added insult to injury on purpose. The feeling of being laughed at would last longer than her black eye.

  “As a matter of fact, Jamilla is coming with you,” I told Marie. “When you get upstairs, you are going to say that you were jumped and you don’t know by who. You are going to say that they would have killed you if Jamilla hadn’t run up and fought them off.”

  I walked over to Jamilla, ripped her shirt, and pushed Marie toward her side of the building. I told everyone else they could go home.

  Chapter 45

  Jamilla

  I felt like I was in the twilight zone. My mother and stepdad thanked Niya and me for saving Marie’s life and treated us like royalty. I couldn’t help but stand there and wonder if they would have reacted the same way if the shoe were on the other foot. If it were me who had come in all battered, would they have cared as much?

  “We have to call police! Look at her. They almost kill her!” my mother said as she reached for her phone.

  Niya shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t do that. As they ran off, they said that if she called the cops, they would come back for her. Just take care of her, and we will keep an eye on her when she leaves the house.”

  Niya was quick on her feet when it came to responding to my mother. After talking it over with my stepdad, they decided not to call the cops, but something told me by the way he was looking at Niya, my stepdad wasn’t buying our story 100 percent. So as my mother took care of Marie, I eased out of the apartment with Niya. We headed to her place. I needed to cloud my brain with smoke and drown my thoughts in liquor.

  * * *

  I hadn’t said much to Niya as we sat in her room. I had mixed emotions about what had gone down, like I always did. Again, she was super “save a ho,” and that meant the world to me, but on the other hand, the degree to which she did things was extreme.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked as she looked dead at me. I was on the desk chair, and she was on her bed. She had on jeans and had taken off her shirt. Her sports bra showed off her abs, and it was distracting.

  “I’m thinking about you,” I said as the alcohol and weed acted as a truth serum.

  “Oh yeah?” she asked as she got up and sat on the edge of her bed. She reached out and pulled the desk chair over to her, sitting me front and center before her and between her legs. My body instantly tensed up as thoughts of her video shoot just that afternoon ran through my
mind. I took the blunt from her fingers and inhaled.

  “Just thinking about you and how much I love you. I also thought of how much the dark side of you scares me,” I revealed.

  At first she was smiling, but by the end of my last sentence, her smile had gone stale.

  “I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you. Understand?” As she asked this, she leaned into me and kissed my lips. The kiss was fast and could have been mistaken for a friendly peck, but deep down inside, I hoped not.

  She went on. “I won’t lie to you, but I will not think twice about killing anyone who hurt you. But me hurt you? Never.” Again, another small, fast kiss. Her lamp was on low, and the music in the background wasn’t rap, for a change. Alice Smith’s voice hung in the air like the thick smoke that filled our lungs as she sang “Fool for You.”

  So there we were, me feeling like a fool in many ways. A fool because she was right in front of me, the woman that I loved, yet I still wouldn’t allow her to be mine. A fool because I was fighting what I really was. A fool because although I should have known the truth, I was still very confused about who I was and what I wanted.

  “Niya . . .”

  “Jamilla?” she answered.

  I couldn’t let go of what was obstructing the truth. So I sipped and I smoked.

  “Jamilla, tell me.” Niya was right in front of me and made me feel as if she was reading my thoughts. “Jamilla, say it,” she said as she pulled me even closer to her.

  Still, I said nothing.

  “You are going to tell me what you were about to say.” She removed the cup from my hand and took the blunt away from me. She smoked as I sat there uncomfortably. “Why are you so afraid?”

  “What am I afraid of?” I asked, hoping that she could let me in on my own fears.

  “Why are you so afraid to love me . . . the way you really love me, huh?”

  Inside I was screaming, Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. But I answered, “I just don’t know.”