Dear Summer

by Elliott, K.

  Summer slid into a pair of blue running shorts that were lying beside the bed. She left her breasts exposed. She hopped into the bed with Tommy. He grinned at her.

  “I love you, Tommy.”

  He stared into her eyes. He saw his reflection. He was still grinning. He didn’t say anything though.

  “Tommy did you hear me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t love me?”

  “Yeah. Of course I love you.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I need you to say that you love me too, Tommy.” “You know I love you.”

  She shifted her body into his then put his arm around her. Tommy placed his hand on her ass. He liked the shape of it and the way it felt. He knew this turned her on and he wanted more sex. He could never get enough of her.

  “Tommy can I ask you a question?”

  “Yeah of course.”

  “When are you going to leave her?”

  He released her and moved his other hand away from her ass and stared at the ceiling. He was still sweating. He stood on the bed, pulled the chain on the ceiling fan and watched the fan swirl around.

  “Tommy, when are you going to leave her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tommy, look at me,” she demanded.

  He met her eyes. He could tell she was now in love with him by the way she looked at him.

  “Tommy, I want to be with you. I want to have your baby.”

  “Are you ready for kids?”

  “Tommy, I’m ready. I’m twenty-eight, and I know you’re a good man. I know you will be a great father.”

  He turned away from her; his back was now facing her. She put her arms around him and held him. “Tommy, I want you all to myself.”

  “I know. But what are we going to do? I mean, I am a car thief and you’re…I don’t know what you are.”

  “Tommy I will be okay. Soon as I write my book, I’ma be paid. I know this girl, Danielle Santiago. She goes to my salon. She got a sixfigure book deal and she’s livin’ lovely.”

  Tommy turned and faced her. He pulled her close. His hands were now on her ass. The soft feeling of her ass made his dick stiffen.

  “What’s your book about?”

  “A female madam.”

  “A madam?”

  “Yeah. She runs a call girl service.”

  “This shit is inspired by who?”

  Summer sucked her teeth, she knew that once people knew what her book was about they’d assume that the book was based on her life. “I don’t know. It’s kind of like Heidi Fleiss, but hood.”

  Tommy laughed. “But I know you must have some experience in this shit.”

  She looked annoyed but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t believe he was saying she must have been a whore. “Tommy I’m not going to say nothing to you.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if I told you I’d been a whore? Would it matter?”

  “No. Hell no, baby. I didn’t mean it like that.” He pulled her close.

  “Good, because I’m not.”

  He was silent. He knew that he’d offended her. They held each other until he dozed off.

  ***** Dream Nelson introduced Tommy to the fourteen boys who’d been labeled at-risk by the school district. Standing in front of the small class, Tommy looked out at the boys. They all looked hopeless and like unwanted misfits. They looked familiar not because he knew them, but because they represented him. He was happy to speak to the boys, not because he was a role model; he was nobody’s role model. Hell, he was a part of a large automobile theft ring. He was glad he could talk to them because nobody else would. It was sad that there were hundreds of African American doctors, dentists, attorneys, and other professionals, but most were unwilling to give their time. Though Tommy felt like a hypocrite for speaking to them, he hoped that at least one would hear his message. He secretly hoped he would listen to himself. His girlfriend Angie sat beside Dream as Tommy spoke about his time in prison. The boys all looked scared when Tommy told them how he was strip searched and shackled whenever he was taken outside of the prison.

  A boy on the back row with a large egg-shaped head and chapped lips asked, “Were you ever raped?” Several people giggled.

  Tommy even laughed before saying, “No. But I’ve heard of it happening.” He was used to that question. He knew it would come up. It always did whenever he talked about his prison stay. Women would especially want to know if he’d been raped, and had he raped someone. They wanted all the details of his prison stay. Was he on the down low? He glanced at Angie.

  She was dressed impeccably in a blue blazer and heels. Her hair was pulled back. She made eye contact and smiled. He could tell by her facial expression she was proud of him.

  Tommy paced. He was a little nervous at his speaking engagements. When he had first started speaking he would often forget what he wanted to say. Now he had become better and he would bring a yellow legal pad with brief directions on where he wanted to go with his speech. A tall lanky kid with braids who was wearing a “Stop Snitching” T-shirt, stood up. “Hey, what did you go in for?”

  “I was an ecstasy dealer.”

  “Did somebody snitch on you?”

  Tommy giggled. “I guess you could say that.”

  “Don’t you want to kill them?”

  Tommy laughed out loud this time. Angie’s lips tightened.

  Tommy could tell she was interested in his response. The truth of the matter was that he did want to kill the white bitch that set him up. But he couldn’t say that. He stopped laughing and said, “Initially I did, but I realized that I was the problem, and I got what was coming to me.”

  “How much money did you make?”

  “Enough,” Tommy said. Though millions had gone through his hand, he couldn’t make it seem as though he was advocating drug dealing.

  Another kid asked, “Don’t you miss the money?”

  “No. I’m glad I got my freedom.” He paced, and then referred back to his legal pad. “When you’re on the inside, nobody cares about you. Nobody cares about how much money you made. Those people just want their time. If your mom dies, you may or may not be allowed to attend the funeral.”

  Dream stood and looked at her watch. “We have another speaker, Attorney William Farrow,” she announced.

  A couple of kids on the front row booed, and someone yelled, “I don’t wanna see no damn attorney.”

  Dream gave Tommy a hug and he walked over and took a seat beside Angie.

  Chapter 7

  Awedding picture sat on Dream’s desk. It was hard for Tommy to believe that she was HIV positive by looking at her. She was stunning. Her skin was dark and flawless. Her teeth were the color of milk.

  Dream’s dress was fire-truck red and it gripped her ass wonderfully. Tommy looked at her in a way Angie wouldn’t notice. He knew if she did notice him staring he’d simply play it off by saying she has HIV. Of course he didn’t have interest in her because of that, and she was married. Dream took a position behind her desk and asked Tommy and Angie to take a seat.

  “Tommy, I want to thank you for coming out today.” “I’m glad I came.”

  Angie raised her eyebrow. “Anytime you need him, he’ll come.

  Ain’t that right, Tommy?” Dream stood and walked to a table that was behind her desk. Tommy looked at her ass again, thinking Damn this bitch is beautiful. It’s too bad she has HIV.

  When she kneeled to get her briefcase, he saw her stockings and he got an erection.

  She popped open the briefcase and handed Tommy a brochure. The brochure had a picture of a red-headed white man. The caption read, “This man made over 1 million dollars last year for speaking.”

  Tommy looked at it and looked back at Dream. “What’s this?”

  “Tommy, I want to help you get paid for speaking; for sharing your experience. I made over $100,000 last year with public speaking engagements.
”

  “But who wants to hear my story?”

  “That’s what I thought, Tommy.”

  Tommy wanted to say, “But you have HIV.”

  Angie grabbed his hands. “Tommy, I think you will be great at this.”

  Dream smiled brightly. “I think you should give it a shot.”

  “Baby, it’s legal money,” Angie said.

  Tommy took a deep breath and wondered to himself. Could he really live off a hundred grand a year?

  ***** Tommy and Ditty followed the waitress to a booth in the back of the Outback Steakhouse. When they were seated, they both ordered lemonade. When the waitress returned with the drinks, Ditty said, “How is life treating ya, lover boy?” Ditty grinned, revealing yellowish green teeth. Tommy looked at his friend’s mouth. He had wanted to tell him several times that a visit to the dentist wouldn’t be deadly. But he could never muster up the nerve to tell his friend that his breath stunk.

  Tommy met his eyes. Ditty had a smirk on his face. He was being sarcastic.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean just what I said. Are you still in love with two women?”

  Tommy took a deep breath and said, “Yeah.”

  Ditty leaned forward and whispered. “You’re going to need to cut one of those bitches off if you want to be successful. Out here you got to be focused if you want money.”

  “Nigga, I’m your boss. What the fuck are you talking about? Did you forget I got your dope-dealing ass off the street and introduced you to a new hustle?”

  Ditty sipped his lemonade and almost choked. “Yeah I remember, but all I’m saying is with bitches comes responsibility, and when you have responsibility you spend money.” Ditty took another sip from the straw. There was no more lemonade in the cup, only ice. He shook the ice before pouring it into his mouth.

  The waitress appeared. They both ordered the 12oz.

  Dear Summer Strip steak with baked potato.

  Ditty looked at Tommy seriously. “Tommy, I don’t think that

  Summer bitch is good for you.”

  “Nigga, you don’t know her.”

  “I just don’t like her vibe.”

  “You never like anybody.”

  “It’s not that. I just realize the motherfucker’s intentions.” “How can you say that about her? You’ve never met her.” “The bitch is beautiful…I mean drop dead gorgeous. She’s a

  gold digger.”

  “Nigga, I’ve always had beautiful bitches.”

  “You’ve always had gold diggers, too.”

  Tommy thought about what Ditty had said. He didn’t particularly like what he was saying, but it wasn’t the first time he’d heard

  that, and he knew if he didn’t have money and cars that he probably wouldn’t be with Summer.

  “Angie ain’t no gold digger,” Tommy said.

  “Yeah, and that’s why you should be with her.”

  The waitress came and sat their plates down, then refilled

  Ditty’s lemonade.

  Tommy cut into his steak and added some A1. “Summer’s a

  good person.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but I just get a vibe about her.”

  Tommy knew that Ditty was loyal to him and wasn’t just being

  malicious, but he couldn’t let Summer go.

  “Tommy, we got a good thing going. I’m just saying that you

  don’t need distractions.”

  “You think she’s a distraction?” He cut the steak into small

  pieces then bit into one.

  “Yes. She’s a distraction.”

  “She loves me.”

  “Did she tell you this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But you love Angie, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said, avoiding Ditty’s eyes.

  “But you like this bitch, too.” Ditty said.

  A frown appeared on Tommy’s face.

  Ditty drank the rest of his refill and said, “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

  Chapter 8

  Tommy was on the way home, driving fast. Angie had just called him to say dinner was ready. She had cooked his favorite—baked chicken and rice. He would stop at the convenience store around the corner from the house to buy himself a Coke. He knew he would have to hurry and drink it before he got home because Angie always chastised him about sugar products. It had been easy for him to give up soft drinks and candy in prison, but in the real world the pressures made him want to do something. Since he wasn’t going to ever do drugs…his addiction was sugar. He figured it could be worse. At least he wasn’t smoking crack. He stopped at the store, went to the case and got a can of Coke. Just as he was about to walk up to the counter, he noticed a special on the Mr. Goodbars—two for one. He would eat one now and the other tomorrow. Just as he was about to peel the wrapper off, his phone rang. The caller ID read that it was Q. “What up, Q?”

  “Squirt went to jail today.” “What? You’re lying,” Tommy said. He climbed into his car and put the candy and the drink on the passenger seat.

  “Yeah, he got caught with nine ounces.”

  “Soft or hard?” Tommy asked. He knew that in the drug business nine ounces of crack is a death sentence, but if it was coke, he would have another chance.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him yet.”

  “Damn. That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah it really is.”

  “Hey, man, I will call you tomorrow. I have to go home to my lady.”

  “Tommy, that ain’t all.”

  “What you talking about?”

  “He got bagged in the car you sold him. The police is saying the car was stolen.”

  “What the fuck you mean they said the car was stolen? I’ve been stopped plenty of times and ain’t nobody ever said shit to me.”

  “Tommy, they said the car was stolen. That’s what Squirt’s girl said.”

  “Nigga, all our cars are stolen, but the paperwork is legit.”

  “Hey, Tommy, I hope for your sake, nigga, the paperwork is legit.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Q? Are you threatening me? Cuz I ain’t nobody’s punk, nigga.”

  “Fuck you, nigga.” Q hung up the phone.

  ***** Ditty cracked open a vanilla dutch and poured the greenery into it. This would be his second blunt for tonight. He and Tommy sat at his kitchen table. “Nigga, get you another beer from the fridge,” Ditty said.

  Tommy walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a Bud Light. He rarely smoked weed. Never had he bought it, but maybe once or twice a year he’d take a hit. He generally didn’t like the way it made him feel, but he would drink beer, especially when he was depressed. He opened his beer and sat back at the table with Ditty.

  “Yeah, that nigga Q said Squirt got bagged.”

  “With what?”

  “Said he got caught with nine ounces of coke.”

  Ditty put the blunt up to his already burnt lips and inhaled. His

  eyes tightened, making him look like a very dark Asian. “Nigga, I don’t give a fuck. That’s his problem.” “I know, but Q is trying to blame the shit on me, saying the paperwork wasn’t right.”

  Ditty offered Tommy the blunt, but he refused for the third

  Dear Summer time and Ditty puffed again before asking, “So, how you want to handle it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you want to go to war or what?”

  “No, man. I want to find out what’s going on.”

  Ditty disappeared to the back room and returned with a black golf bag.

  Tommy laughed out loud. “Just cuz that weed done made you look part Asian don’t make you Tiger Woods.”

  “Right. Where Tiger carry clubs in his bag, I carry tools.” He opened the bag and pulled out an AK-47 and a Tech-9 and laid the bag on the floor. “I will blow Q’s fuckin’ block off. I never liked that nigga.”

  “I don’t think it’s gonna come down to that.”

 
; Ditty held his blunt in one hand and the Tech-9 in the other. He puffed his blunt one final time. “He better hope not, because I will blow the nigga’s back out.”

  ***** Matt was wearing an extra small Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt and ripped jeans. He held some kind of techie magazine in his hand. He and Tommy took a seat in a booth at Starbucks. Tommy started by saying, “The paperwork was fucked up on the car.”

  “Impossible.”

  “What do you mean, impossible?”

  Matt looked Tommy straight in his eyes. He didn’t flinch and

  neither did Tommy. “You know, I’ve been doing this for two years, and it’s just like I said—impossible.”

  “My friend got busted with drugs in the car.”

  “Not my problem,” Matt said nonchalantly and opened his magazine.

  “He’s saying the car was the reason he got pulled.”

  “Did he get charged with possession of a stolen vehicle?”

  Tommy thought about it. Q never said Squirt had been charged with possession of a stolen vehicle. “I don’t know.”

  “Find out.”

  Tommy called Q from his cell. He answered on the third ring, “What?”

  “Did Squirt get charged with possession of a stolen vehicle?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s his last name? I will call downtown to see what’s going on.”

  “Not giving you his last name.” Q hung up the phone.

  Tommy said, “I will find out if he got charged with possession of a stolen car.”

  Matt stood, folded the magazine and placed it in his pocket. “Tommy, somebody is shitting you, friend. The car wasn’t the reason your friend got busted.”

  Tommy looked confused.

  Matt put both hands in his pocket. “Tommy, we’ve never had this happen.”

  Tommy narrowed his eyes. “So, Matt, tell me…how does the operation work?”

  Matt shifted his feet back and forth, and then his eyes met Tommy’s. “Now, you know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t, man. Besides, the scheme is too sophisticated.”

  “Motherfucker, I spend at least $200,000 with you per month.”