Around the Way Girls 8

by Tina Brooks McKinney

  “You know I particularly have a personal image to uphold. Not to mention, we’re the couple everyone dreams about,” I proclaimed.

  “I don’t give a damn about any of that,” Greg responded.

  “What!” I blurted out, after noticing there was a padlock on my front door.

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation as to why the lock is on the door. It’s probably a mistake,” Greg suggested, trying to calm me down.

  “I need to know what’s going on,” I replied, after dialing all of the phone numbers I knew for my parents. All of them were going straight to voice mail.

  “Let’s go to your parents’ house,” he urged, handing Fred yet another fifty-dollar bill to lug all my stuff back into the limo. Greg didn’t like seeing me upset. As we headed to my parents’ house, I couldn’t understand why I was not able to get into my house, especially when there was plenty of money to go around; probably feed the city of Norfolk for six months.

  “Mom, Dad, what’s going on? I can’t get into my condo,” I exclaimed, hearing my echoing voice after barging into the front door with Greg and Fred following behind my trail.

  “Jackie, baby, you’re home. I’m in here,” Dad greeted me after I heard his voice in the study.

  There was a swarm of movers taking their furniture out and loading it onto a truck. My old room still better be intact, I thought, while giving one of the workers an evil stare down. Mom was nowhere in sight.

  “There’s a lock on my door. I’m tired, hungry, and have had a long day, which seems to be getting worse. Why are our belongings being carried out?” I questioned.

  “Mr. Montague, sir,” Greg addressed Dad, shaking his hand.

  “Hello, Greg. You two can have a seat. Since both of you have been gone, a lot has changed. Well, you see, Greg Sr. and I have severed ties. Twenty years ago, this house and your condo came with the job. Now that I’m moving on, we are losing them.”

  “Mr. Bell and you couldn’t have worked something out?” I asked.

  “Greg’s father wants to move the company in a new, innovative direction. That’s all. We still are remaining friends. Jackie, it’s business,” Dad commented, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Mr. Montague, I’m sorry to hear about this. I’m sure my father was sorry to lose you,” Greg suggested.

  “Thank you,” Dad said, nodding.

  “What are we going to do now?” I questioned. “Losing my home is one thing; losing the home I grew up in is a stab in the heart. There are countless memories here.”

  “We’ll make it,” Dad assured me with a smile.

  “Jackie, you’re in the best hands with your father. I’m going to step out and give you a call later,” Greg expressed, before giving me a hug. I didn’t hesitate to walk him to the door.

  “He’s hiding something,” I said, hoping Greg would confirm my thoughts.

  “Yeah, something isn’t right. I’m going to go probe my father and call you in a couple of hours,” he decided.

  “All right,” I agreed, before he walked out of the door and stepping back into the limousine. I waved goodbye to Greg. My head started to spin. I found Dad in the living room, sipping on a bottle of wine with my mother. He cherished his wine and that’s probably where a lot of the family fortune went. The bottle in his hand cost around five thousand dollars.

  “I was saving this bottle of wine for the day you got married,” Dad wallowed. His whole mood took a 360-degree turn.

  Was it just an act for Greg not to see Dad sweat?

  Chapter 5

  Mom’s eyes were bloodshot red. It looked as if she had been crying for days with fresh tears on top of dried-up ones. Seeing the look on her face made me want to do the same thing. Once we made eye contact, she and I hugged each other for a while. I was trying to find comfort in her, while she broke down even more in my arms.

  “Dad, what really happened? I thought you owned half of the company?” I inquired.

  “About five years ago, I did. Then Greg Sr. gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I thought my job would be around for the long haul. The day after you left for your trip, he called me into his office and simply said my services wouldn’t be needed anymore. It would surprise me if he got three more scientists to put on the payroll for the price of one of me. Even more humiliating, security escorted me out of the building. My office was ransacked and what was left of it was placed into a cardboard box and shoved at me,” Dad made clear.

  “He fired you,” I replied in a state of shock.

  “Yes, pretty much. In the corporate world, loyalty and friendship don’t mean a damn thing.

  “What are we going to do for money?”

  “The money has run out. All three of us have lavish taste and it cost money. The good life, as we have known it, is gone. Just as fast as I would make the money, we would spend it even faster.”

  “Can’t you just go work for another company?”

  “I’m fifty-four years old. No one wants to hire an old-timer. Besides, I’m too much of a liability. Now, I’m not saying I won’t try. I’m made some calls to a few contacts. Greg Sr. had pretty much blackballed me. It’s hard being optimistic.”

  “For more than twenty years, we have lived in this house. To leave like this is terrible. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from this endless nightmare,” Mom sobbed in disbelief, rocking herself slowly back and forth on the couch.

  “Where is all of our stuff going?” I questioned.

  “For now, it’s going to storage, till we figure what’s next for us. Over the years, I wasted a lot of money, however, I did have enough sense to buy a moderate sized town house.

  “What am I supposed to do for money? I can’t live just off credit cards. Do something, Dad! What are people going to think?” I declared, freaking out about how neighbors had probably been peeping through their windows as our stuff was being carried away.

  “Jackie, we just lost our home. I don’t give a damn about what anybody thinks anymore. I suggest you follow my advice. Be grateful and stop acting like a spoiled twit. Keeping up with the Joneses has left us broke,” Mom announced.

  Mom smacked me across the face with the back of her right hand. It left me with a nagging sting. She hadn’t laid a hand on me since I was ten years old.

  “We need to stick together,” Dad suggested, trying to diffuse the tension in the room.

  “You can come to the town house. If I hear one complaint, your ass is out on the street,” Mom commented.

  “All right,” I agreed with my hand still clutched to my face.

  “One more thing,” Mom declared.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Cut up all of those credit cards. Our days of gold plastic are over,” she announced.

  Chapter 6

  Two weeks later, the walls felt as if they were closing in on me. Mom’s constant nagging of me getting a job was hard to tune out. Dad and she were going on and scheduling countless interviews, but I couldn’t get in the groove of actually working. Thank God I still had Greg’s credit card to rely on. For old time’s sake, I flocked to Nordstrom in my Jag to pick up a pair of True Religion and Cookie Johnson jeans, Gucci pumps, and a Louis Vuitton Speedy bag. At the nail salon, I had my toes and nails painted my favorite color, gray.

  I made it a point to keep a low profile and go to the places at times where people wouldn’t spot me. Most of my haters were blowing me up on Facebook, text messages, and MySpace, desperately trying to get the scoop about why the biggest house on the block had a For Sale sign on the front lawn. Even though Mom thinks I’m wasting my time and gas, I’ve been driving to our old house and parking in the driveway just to stare out what we once had. Mom has been drilling into my head that it’s time we move on, but I’m not as strong as her, nor can I adapt so damn quickly to change. Today, I couldn’t help but to cry thinking about how I scraped my knee while Dad taught me how to ride a bicycle, to coming down the stairs in an amazing gown for senior prom. As of yet, the
house hasn’t sold.

  “Hey,” I greeted Greg after he opened the door.

  “Why the long face? I see you got plenty at the mall,” he teased.

  “I can’t believe this is happening. My mind just keeps hoping Dad will get another job soon. Once it happens, things will finally go back to normal.”

  “Me either,” he agreed, shaking his head.

  “I can’t get a word out of Dad about why he was let go,” I admitted.

  “My father isn’t talking, either,” he added, leading us to the backyard.

  Greg had prepared fresh shrimp with linguine, salad and a berry tart, picnic-style. He loved to cook. Fall was approaching. It wasn’t too hot or too cold. In his arms, we watched the sun set. After going back into the house, we had fun washing the dishes. Once the last dish was dried, I couldn’t wait to throw soap suds on him. Before I knew it, both of us were covered in them and his kitchen floor was dripping wet. I cornered Greg to the stainless steel refrigerator. I quickly grabbed two ice cubes out of the ice maker and scooped them into my mouth. Wasting no time, I pulled down his jeans and boxer shorts and took his dick into my mouth. The hot-and-cold sensation was irresistible to Greg.

  “Damn, I’m going to cum,” he whispered.

  “No you’re not,” I begged to differ, before leading him onto the sturdy kitchen table. I motioned for him to lie down on top of it and I gently slid down on his dick, going slowly up and down so he could watch me.

  Greg turned me over, put me on all fours and entered my soaking pussy.

  “You’re on my spot,” I screamed.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  Soon after, we came together.

  While I was recouping on the table, Greg cleaned up the mess we made.

  Then he lifted me from the table and carried me into the bathroom, placing me in the tub.

  We took a warm bath together.

  As he washed me, Greg gave me small kisses all over my body.

  Chapter 7

  On Thursday, I was just there and the For Sale sign lay tightly dug in the front lawn. Now, today, on a rainy and gloomy Tuesday, the sign was gone. An older couple with a moving truck had the nerve to be putting their belongings in the house.

  “Excuse me,” I stated, after getting out of the car.

  “Yes, young lady?” the man asked.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “My wife and I bought this house. We’re retired from upstate New York. Once on a visit down here, we fell in love with the area,” he explained.

  “There’s no need for your life history. I don’t give a damn. This is my house and you need to leave right now,” I ordered after cutting him off.

  “The ink is dry on the papers we signed. This is our house. You need to leave right now!” the woman butted in once hearing my ranting.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Put your crap back into the truck and go find another house. This is mine,” I pointed out, and grabbed the box out of the man’s arms and threw it back on the truck.

  The woman took her cell phone out of her jean pocket and quickly called the Realtor. Once confirming the house was theirs legally, she called the police. I was escorted off the property.

  “Ms. Montague, it’s either jail, or you can go on with your day,” the police officer offered, after pulling my registration.

  “I’m leaving, for now. I’ll be back. Next time, I’ll be parked on the street and you can’t do anything about it because that’s considered city property. By the way, I was trying to warn you. Your souls won’t be at peace. The house is haunted. When the clock strikes eleven, they will come for you,” I screamed before pulling off, hoping my scare tactic was successful.

  Chapter 8

  Long lines and few cashiers was becoming a trend at Target. I didn’t care because I loved this store and could spend the entire day exploring in here with a small bag of popcorn in one hand and a strawberry smoothie in the other. An agenda to pick up only one item turns into me putting an extra twenty items in my shiny red shopping cart.

  “Are you in a hurry?” I asked the woman behind me, who kept looking down at her watch and had a frustrated look on her face.

  “Yes,” she replied, nodding her head.

  “Well, I’m not. You can go in front of me,” I offered.

  “You sure?” she inquired.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I responded, smiling.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “Listen, because of your generosity, I’m going to get to my doctor’s appointment on time. If you’re late, they charge an automatic thirty-dollar fee. Let me pay for that bottle of Sprite,” she suggested, eyeing it in my cart.

  “Sure, thank you,” I said, nodding, before skimming through an Essence magazine. Before I knew it, she paid for her things and the Sprite.

  “Here’s your soda,” she proclaimed. The next thing I knew she was pouring it all over my head.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re crazy!” I spat at her.

  “Boo-boo, the stickiness of Sprite isn’t a good look for your hair.”

  “Who are you?” I demanded to know.

  “I’m Michelle Perez. You should know me. I’m the one you threw two milkshakes and carrot salad on at Chick-fil-A. Karma is a bitch,” she giggled, before calmly walking away.

  I had embarrassed her in front of her coworkers. She humiliated me in front of complete strangers in my favorite neighborhood store. I couldn’t decide which one was worse.

  Chapter 9

  Waking up at eight in the morning was unheard of. Waking up and actually going somewhere to get my hands dirty was something I never before could imagine. I’m definitely not in the early-riser category. Dressed in an oversized white T-shirt and sweatpants, I was on my way over to the storage unit to help my parents sort it out. It was filled to the rim. Sure, there were items we would definitely keep. The others would be divided in two piles. The first pile would go to Goodwill for a hefty tax write-off, and the other would be used for an upcoming yard sale. Mom thought it could drum up cash.

  Mom’s Lexus was nowhere to be found. This was strange because I know she mentioned to me last night they would be here.

  I slowly approached the storage unit with caution. My lips quivered and my knees went numb as I noticed a trail of blood as I entered in, looking down on the ground. On a pile of Persian rugs, my parents laid dead.

  “Nine-one-one,” the voice acknowledged me.

  I cried out in disbelief and shock. The storage unit had been tossed.

  “Are you there?” the female dispatcher asked.

  “I’m at—” I paused, desperately trying to get the words to come out of my mouth. I fell to my knees.

  “Ma’am, is anyone hurt?”

  “Mom and Dad have been shot,” I screamed.

  “Is either one of them breathing?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I replied.

  “Where are you?”

  “Webster’s Storage Facility off Holland Road. Please, hurry, right now,” I pleaded.

  “I’m dispatching police officers and the paramedics. They are on the way. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until they arrive,” she explained.

  Were Mom and Dad looking for something or was the killer?

  Chapter 10

  Dad died instantly. Mom was pronounced dead at the hospital. I hoped at least one of them weren’t leaving me here all alone and helpless. I wept to the floor. Who would kill my parents? Was it mistaken identity? The police officers asked me questions over and over again. A knot had formed in my stomach.

  “Ms. Montague, is there anyone I can call for you?” a nurse asked.

  “Greg, please. His number is in my cell phone,” I replied, sobbing and pointing to my purse.

  All the things I should have said and done for my parents came to mind. I didn’t appreciate and cherish them like I should have. Now, they were gone. I loved Mom and Dad with all my heart. I hoped they knew th
at.

  Words still couldn’t come out of my mouth, so the police officers explained to Greg what had happened. From that day, he never left my side. Days that followed, I cried every night in Greg’s arms.

  The following week, the wake and funeral were scheduled. Dad’s brother, Uncle Harold, made all the necessary arrangements. Greg’s parents set a scholarship in my father’s name. Each year, they vowed to give ten thousand dollars for a college-bound student. It meant a lot to me. I didn’t want Mom or Dad to be latest news and then be forgotten.

  At the funeral, so many people who I knew and didn’t know were coming up to me giving their condolences. Even more, I felt even worse not knowing how much Mom volunteered and gave donations in the community. She probably tried to tell me but I was too concerned with the latest fashion trends and bleeding them for money. I knew Dad was an avid tennis player; however, I didn’t bother to play a single game with him. All these years, I thought they were the lucky ones to have me in their lives. Now, it was too late and I finally realized how lucky I was to have parents like them.

  Relentlessly, I hounded the Virginia Beach Police Department. Detective Snyder had been assigned to the murder case of my parents. The storage unit was checked for DNA and fingerprints. People in the area were questioned. No leads were developing.

  Two weeks passed and I was ready to sort out their financial affairs. Twenty years ago, Dad granted Uncle Harold the executor of their estate. The town house was mine: free, clear and paid off. Mom’s Lexus was recovered at a junkyard. Most of the parts were stripped. Dad’s Denali was mine with no truck payment. After paying off debt and funeral expenses, I was left with a mere fifty thousand dollars and a painting by Jacob Lawrence depicting African Americans leaving the South to migrate to the North. This painting was valued at ninety thousand dollars.

  I was faced with getting a job. Thankfully, I was not having to pay a mortgage or rent, but cable, water, and lights were not free. It wasn’t hard to see I would have to drastically change my lifestyle. Fashion and the hottest trends didn’t mean much to me these days. I would give anything to have my parents back. Still, I dreamed about buying back the house I grew up in.