by Naija
“Yes. I called him when I found it. I haven’t seen or heard from him since. He never came back home.”
“I’m sorry, Janet. Wish I could help, but—”
“That’s not it,” she said. “His cell phone bill came. After we last spoke, he made a call shortly after, and he talked to the person for a lengthy time, so I called the number.”
“And?”
“Well, this guy answered. He said he was Khalil’s lover. He said he planted the rubber when he found out I was pregnant. Khalil was supposed to be breaking things off with me, and when this guy found out he wasn’t…well, he was outraged for lack of a better word.”
I thought I was having another nightmare. This time I couldn’t wake up.
“Janet, I’ve never known Khalil to be bisexual. He’s always been experimental, but not in that fashion. Are you sure you got that shit right?”
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I got it correct. I went for HIV testing. You should do the same because my results came back positive. If Khalil calls you, tell him to come home.” She hung up on me.
This shit can’t be happening, I thought. It was a figment of my imagination. Janet hadn’t just called and told me Khalil was fucking some man and that she was HIV positive. I’d drifted into deep thought when my assistant announced that Kevin was waiting for me.
“Hi, Dr. Frazier,” I said, teasing Kevin when he entered.
“Hey, how you feeling?” he asked, reaching for a hug.
“Shit just doesn’t seem to stop,” I replied. “I just got a call from the girlfriend of a guy I used to sex, said she was pregnant and has HIV and the guy went missing after she learned he was gay.”
“HIV positive? You need to get tested,” he said.
“I’ve been tested since I last slept with Khalil. I’m negative. I never had unprotected sex with him.”
“That’s a relief. How are things otherwise?”
“Got engaged,” I said happily. “I haven’t heard the voices.”
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear that, and your brother?”
“I haven’t seen him lately either or dreamed of him since the last dream when I saw Ronnie, our cousin, pulling the trigger.”
“It looks like you’re in a good place, love.”
“I think so.” I smiled. “How long are you in town for?”
“Just three more days. I have to get back for a conference.”
“Let’s try and hook up before you go. I’ll introduce you to Troy.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Kevin said as he departed.
• • •
The next week, Troy and I were going to Ocho Rios, Jamaica. I made a run to the gym before it closed for a quick workout. The gym wasn’t very crowded when I arrived. My trainer had an opening and invited me to fill the spot. He gave me a rigorous workout. It was overdue. We’d been working on my abs, gluteus, and oblique muscles.
He was the last trainer on the floor. I offered to drop him at home since he didn’t live far from me. I went in the locker room and sat in the sauna for a few minutes before changing. Steam filled the room. I sat there naked, with my eyes closed when I heard someone enter. I hadn’t seen any other women in the gym. I was one of the last stragglers to leave. When I opened my eyes, my trainer was standing over me, dick hung and swinging.
“What are you doing in the ladies’ locker room?” I asked.
“I came to give you a massage,” he said.
“Is that right?” I replied, sitting upright and reaching for my towel.
“Yes. Where would you like me to start?”
“For starters, I’d like you to leave.”
He wasn’t taking no for an answer. He pushed me down, tried rubbing his dick between my breasts. He was stronger than me, so I pretended I was with it, causing him to relax and loosen his grip.
“Let me taste it,” I said.
Turned on, he eagerly brought his dick toward my mouth, and when he did, I bit down on it so hard, leaped up and ran out of the locker room naked and screaming. One of the managers noticed me and attempted to conceal me.
“What happened, miss?” he asked.
“The trainer, he came in the locker room and tried to rape me,” I responded.
“Call the police,” the manager ordered the front desk clerk. The few people who remained in the gym looked traumatized.
The trainer hadn’t scared me, merely pissed me off. I dressed in one of the offices, filed a police report, and watched as he was arrested.
• • •
“We have reached a cruising altitude. You may now unfasten your seatbelts and move around the cabin freely. We ask that while seated you remain with your seatbelt on and securely fastened for safety. It should be a smooth ride from here,” the captain announced on the plane.
“I’m going to the restroom,” Troy said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Okay,” I replied. We were sitting near the back of the airplane. It wasn’t long before I too needed to use the restroom. I got up from my seat, observing the passengers, none of whom were paying me any attention.
“Took you long enough,” Troy replied.
“Shut up,” I said, playfully.
Troy easily lifted my skirt and slid his firm dick into me. The hard part was remaining silent while he sexed me good in that tiny compartment. Yes, we were members of the mile-high club, and Troy had taken me higher and higher.
We arrived at Sunset Jamaica Grande All-Inclusive Resort. Our room had a king-size bed, private patio, and beachfront view. I was proud to be next to my man and to finally have a love of my own.
Troy had organized an array of entertaining excursions. We started with a hike through the Blue Mountain coffee region, then we went horseback riding, exploring historic plantations, sugar cane and liquor factories, and Bob Marley’s Museum. As the day escaped us, we concluded our sports adventures with a safari tour and aboard a bamboo raft in the White River.
I introduced Troy to true pampering inside the Aqua Azul Spa where we received a milk-and-honey body wrap, mango manicures, and sensual body massages. When the evening approached, I changed into my purple sarong that fell just above my knee, tying it in a halter fashion around the neck, then we went for a stroll on the beach. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves entwined, making love on the white sand under the island moon.
When we woke up the next morning, we started our day at the breakfast buffet with an assortment of fruit, meat, pancakes, waffles, eggs, and Caribbean juices.
We’d been out catching the sun when I decided to check out the local stores. Troy wasn’t interested and allowed me to go and spend his money.
“Let’s meet back in the room,” Troy said.
“What time?”
“Around dinner. We can order room service and kick back,” he said.
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied, kissing him.
There were several duty-free shops with a nice selection of jewelry and perfume. Mainly, I was checking out the scenery. I didn’t see anything that caught my attention until I stumbled upon the Taj Mahal Shopping Centre. It was a beautiful emulation of the monument in India.
I’d been purchasing Swarovski crystal for my mother, Tiffany jewelry for myself, and a couple leather pieces from Cartier for Troy before I realized it was almost time for me to head back to the room. Troy wasn’t there when I returned, giving me time to shower and change for dinner. Since we were staying in, I put on a sexy silk nightgown and climbed on the bed.
I was getting horny waiting for Troy. His dick had me tamed—my little toys couldn’t even satisfy me. To occupy my time, I went ahead and ordered our meal from room service.
Troy came in soaked. “What have you been doing?” I asked.
“Swimming down in the pool,” he replied. “You order dinner?”
“I did.”
“Cool. I’m going to shower real quick and we can eat.”
“Okay, baby.”
Our food arrived just as Tr
oy was dressing. He put on his black silk boxers I’d gotten him before the trip. We sat down on the patio and ate our meal, staring out at the beachfront.
That night, we made love abundantly, too many times to recall. I climaxed repeatedly.
“I still want to make babies with you one day,” he told me. Before I could respond, someone knocked on our door.
“You think it’s room service coming back for the trays?” I asked, trying to imagine who else would be knocking.
For a moment, we escaped in each other, forgetting about the sounds that interrupted our flow. Troy pulled his dick out of me and grabbed his robe when the knocks grew louder.
“Yo, I’m coming,” he said with a disturbed, frustrated tone.
“Hurry up, dad,” the young masculine voice yelled from the hallway.
Surely, this kid had the wrong room. I was baffled when Troy opened the door, stepped outside, and spoke to him.
“Trey, I told you to ring my cell. Why the fuck you knocking the door down?” Troy asked.
“Mama said she needed some more cash,” the boy replied.
I was in hysterics. Had this mofo invited his children and his baby mama on our trip? Turned out I was correct. All three of those little knuckas as I called them were staying a couple floors down from us.
Troy took his children on a family vacation every year. This time he decided they could join us. Joslyn, the breeder of his eldest child had family in Jamaica. Since she had a relationship with the other kids, she agreed to watch after them. Besides, it was a free trip for her. It was convenient, having all of us in the same place. I got on that airplane mad as hell.
Chapter 17|
Three weeks passed. Kapri and I booked a last-minute flight to Miami to sit on the set of a shoot for an upcoming urban film production. My firm managed two of the actors in the movie, and it was my aspiration to sign additional clientele. I didn’t have a chance to see Troy before I left. I left him a note at the house and a voice message that I’d be back in a couple of days.
Troy had downplayed what happened in Jamaica. He said he was going to surprise me and planned for us to exchange vows while on the island. He’d brought the kids to share the experience. That knowledge pissed me off even more because it never crossed his mind that I would want my family to be there.
When we arrived in Miami, the producers had cancelled the taping because the weather advisory indicated a storm was headed to the area. Kapri and I turned around, went back to the airport, and waited on standby for the next flight back to New York.
It was just after midnight when we landed at JFK. It was a good thing my car was parked at the airport because the lot was cheaper than a round-trip taxi ride. I offered to drop Kapri at home. The Brooklyn Queens Expressway was congested so I took the North Conduit instead, cutting through side streets, down Atlantic Avenue, and heading cross town, pulling in front of Kapri’s apartment just off Eastern Parkway.
I had tried calling Troy to let him know I would be home early, but he didn’t answer the phone. He was notorious for that. When I got home, his car wasn’t outside. I unloaded my garment bags, grabbed my Louis Vuitton, and unlocked my front door. The music was bumping. Troy must have been in the shower because that’s the only time he turned up the stereo—unless we were getting busy.
I placed my things in the foyer and proceeded to the living room. I had already begun unbuttoning my blouse when I heard water running. After sitting on that plane for three hours, a nice hot shower would be perfect.
I walked in my bedroom, hit the lights, all set to grab a piece of lingerie for later.
“Oh, shit,” I yelled. “What the fuck?”
“Troy, you said this bitch was out of town,” Dallas screamed out.
I reached for my glock without further thought as Troy ran from the bathroom.
“I can explain,” Troy said.
“You can’t explain this shit. Get the fuck out my bed, bitch,” I said to Dallas’s brazen ass. Apparently, neither of them realized the danger they were in. Troy rushed up on me, trying to explain, when I pulled my nine-millimeter up from my side, positioning it directly in his face. His ass backed up.
“Yo, it don’t need to be like this,” Troy said. “Where the fuck you get a gun from, ma?”
“Shut the fuck up, Troy. You made it like this. Got this bitch in my house, fucking her in my bed. Are you out of your goddamn mind? How long you been fucking her, Troy?”
Troy never looked so tense. He always controlled himself, his emotions, and his environment. He was treading unfamiliar territory, and Dallas, she must have been high when she jumped up and said, “We never stopped fucking,” and tried to knock the gun from my hand. I shot her ass. One shot to the temple, and she bounced back like a fucking Slinky.
“Ah, naw, baby. What the fuck? This shit is foul,” Troy yelled. He ran over to Dallas’s lifeless body.
“Get the fuck back where you were. Don’t try to comfort that bitch.”
Troy stopped in his tracks. “Let’s talk about this shit. We can fix this. I’m sorry,” he said.
Those were his last words.
• • •
Three days passed, and I didn’t leave my house. I’d been making arrangements, getting my story straight. It would be a matter of time before I answered to the shit that smelled in my bedroom.
My apartment was in disarray. I’d gone in the closet to grab the broom when I saw Troy’s partially open duffle bag on the floor. It was heavy when I tried to pick it up. I sat on the floor just outside the closet and went through it. I had already been crying from walking in on him and Dallas, but when I saw the bags of cocaine, it was as if my world ended twice.
I wasn’t into doing drugs, had dated dope dealers back in the day when the shit seemed cute, and my initial reaction was to flush the coke down the toilet, but Mama didn’t raise no fool. I grabbed the scale from the kitchen and weighed the dope. By the time I finished, I’d added up more than five hundred pounds of pure cocaine.
Needless to say, I was glad I didn’t flush it. My mother always told me to maintain separate bank accounts and my own money, a stash only I knew about. I opened my custom panel beneath the floor of my closet, home to my state-of-the-art safe with a triple locking system and finger print reader, placed the dope safely inside, and locked it.
I poured a glass of chardonnay and waited.
It was on the fourth day when the police finally arrived. The landlord let them into my unit. My mother had requested a patrol car pass by my place after she hadn’t spoken to me in several days. When she called the office and Kapri mentioned she hadn’t seen me, she grew concerned.
“What is that smell?” the landlord said.
I sat there, covered in blood, soiled in feces, and in a zone when the female officer walked in and found me.
“We have a problem,” she yelled to her partners who waited in the living room. “Ask the landlord to step out.”
“Sir, we need you to back out of the apartment,” the male officer said.
“What’s the predicament officer?” the landlord asked.
“I’m not sure yet, sir, but you need to step outside,” he told him.
“What happened here, miss?” she asked me.
I didn’t respond. I remained dazed, in a dreamlike state.
“We need someone from psych in here,” she told her partners. “Miss, can you hear me?”
I had faith in my ability as a psychologist and was on my own kâma-manasic level—a state when the mind operates under the direction of desire, stuck in an illusionary world. The officers were bewildered, trying to understand what happened.
I disassociated myself from reality. The scene, the world, the two dead bodies, none of it was real to me. I would never be able to make myself understood. I fell into a state of deranged mental euphoria.
The police officers sent me to the hospital for medical evaluation before releasing me to the psych ward. I was accustomed to being in the mental institution
and blended in. To help pass the time, track the days, and escape to a surreal place, I kept a journal called Hypnotic.
Kevin, my psychiatrist, came to my rescue. I had sent him a brief e-mail explaining what happened before the police arrived. After a few phone calls, he was able to locate me, and I had never been happier to see my friend. I hadn’t said a word to anyone in the facility for the seventy-two hours that I’d been there. He arranged for us to have private, unmonitored sessions.
“How are you holding up, Raquel?” Kevin asked.
“I’m hanging,” I replied.
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
“It gets cold in here. They won’t give me any cover or sheets.”
“I’ll get that taken care of before I leave today. They think you’re suicidal,” he said.
“I’m not,” I murmured.
“I know you aren’t. What happened, love?”
“I’d gone out of town for a business trip, which turned out to be a flop. I came home early, walked in on Troy and Dallas. She was in my bed, Kevin. Getting ready to fuck my fiancé. My instinct told me to grab my gun. She got smart, tried to take it from my hand, and I shot her. Troy ran over to console her, and I realized at that moment that he had been lying to me all along. He told me my love was to die for. I believed him. I knew the only way out of the mess was to look like I was crazy, so I waited until the police found me, and when they did, I was soiled in shit, blood, and urine.”
“Damn, Raquel. What do you want me to do? Plead temporary insanity?”
“I don’t know if that’s the best option. Historically, it has always been difficult to prove temporary insanity, and it isn’t the most successful defense in courts. It’s going to be tough convincing a jury or judge that I was insane at the time the crime was committed, but suddenly am cured given my professional background.”
“The success rate varies by state, and you happen to live in an area where the plea has been presented approximately forty percent of the time with thirty percent success. Once I introduce your history of mental disease—seeing dead people, hearing voices, depression, anxiety over your miscarriage, and the abuse you suffered in your relationship with Troy—we should be able to argue irresistible impulse.”