She ended the call, and handed the phone back to Regina as tears fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
Regina rubbed her back. “Go home, honey,” she said softly. “Go home and get some rest.”
Deahnna shook her head. “That’s not going to be possible.”
“Well, just try, OK?”
Deahnna wiped her eyes and nodded. “I can’t believe he was here.”
“Six degrees of separation, honey. We all know somebody who knows somebody.”
Deahnna frowned. “This is so unfair.”
“That’s life, honey. Now, go home. Give him some time, but he will call you back.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he left instead of confronting you.”
Deahnna shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Just give it time, honey. OK?”
Deahnna looked up at Regina. “OK,” she said. “I’ll try.”
“Good. Now, before Marvin has a conniption, let me see if I can help salvage the night for his ass. Call me when you get home, OK? If I don’t answer, just leave a text.”
Deahnna gave her a half smile. “I will.”
Regina gave her a kiss on her forehead, and then turned and left, leaving Deahnna alone.
Deahnna sat still as tears leaked from her eyes slowly. She took a breath and let it out slowly. Why me? she wondered again.
Terrance.
Marc.
Now Jawan.
Three men. Three different levels of pain and unhappiness.
As her tears fell, she couldn’t help but wonder just what it was that she had done wrong in her life.
27
A stripper.
A goddamned stripper.
No way. No damn way.
Jawan took hard, slow, angry steps. Deahnna was a stripper. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would have never believed something like that was possible. Had he not watched her back out onto the stage wearing nothing but a barely there thong and a see-through top that was practically the mother of see-throughs, he would have never ever believed . . .
“Shit!”
He stopped walking, turned, and looked back toward the club, which was a half a block away. He stared at the purple neon sign. CLUB ECSTASY, it read. Ecstasy. A place where men or women went to escape the reality of everyday life and lose themselves for an hour, or two, or three or more as they stared at tits and ass that they could only long to have. Tits and ass that were paraded and gyrated in front of them, teasing them, causing them to be voluntarily robbed as dollar bills, which a large majority of them needed at home, disappeared from their hands. It was the perfect legal crime. And with his own eyes, Jawan had watched as Deahnna played the ultimate role as Bonnie without Clyde.
“Shit!” he said again. He shivered, though not from the sharp, nighttime wind. “Shit!”
His cell phone rang. He grabbed it from his pocket and looked at the ID. A number he didn’t recognize appeared. He let it go to voice mail, and then turned his cell phone off. Without knowing who the caller had been, he was sure it had been Deahnna. He shook his head, cursed again, and then turned away from the club. Of all the things he thought he’d ever have to deal with, this hadn’t been one. And to think he’d hopped out of bed, sick, for this. He shook his head again and headed for an idling cab at the corner.
“Yo! Jawan! Dude!”
Jawan didn’t want to, but he stopped walking and turned to see his cousin, Nick, running up to him. Damn, he thought. What a way to send his cousin off. He frowned.
“Dude,” Nick said, coming to a stop, huffing in front of him. “What the fuck just happened?”
Jawan gritted his teeth and said, “I don’t know, man.” He breathed out heavily through his nostrils. “I really don’t fucking know.”
“You know that chick from the stage?”
Jawan looked over his cousin’s shoulder toward the club, and, with his eyes focused on the neon purple, nodded. Through his teeth he said, “Yeah, unfortunately I do.”
“Who is she?”
Jawan flared his nostrils and sucked his lips in. “Do you remember the female I told you about?”
“The teacher?”
“My student’s mother.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Well, I’m sorry I was rude and didn’t introduce you two.”
His eyes opening wide, Nick said, “Shit, dude. You serious?”
Jawan raised his eyebrows. “Wish I wasn’t.”
“Damn,” Nick said. And then he broke out in laughter.
Jawan gave his cousin a hard glare. “There’s nothing funny about this, Nick.”
Nick continued to laugh as he shook his head apologetically and put a hand on Jawan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, dude, but this shit is hilarious.”
Jawan pushed Nick’s hand from his shoulder. “Fuck you, Nick.”
His outburst only made Nick laugh harder. “Don’t flip out on me, dude. I wasn’t the one up on the stage about to get buck naked.”
Jawan shook his head at his cousin’s insensitivity, and fought to not throw a punch at his face, which he knew would have been very, very wrong. After all, Nick had done nothing wrong. But, damn, did he want to hit something.
“A’ight, a’ight,” Nick said, wiping tears away from his eyes. “My bad, dude. I’m sorry, for real.”
Jawan frowned, but didn’t say anything.
“I guess you didn’t know she moonlighted as a show-me-what-you-got kind of chick, huh?”
Jawan shook his head. “Nope.”
“So what are you gonna do?”
“I have no idea, man. Shit. No fucking idea.”
“Guess you’re not coming back inside.”
Jawan’s frown dipped lower. “Nah, man. I’m sorry about fucking up your night.”
“Shit, dude. My night’s not fucked up. Your girl’s not out there, but the other chicks are back out on the stage.”
Jawan nodded. Deahnna hadn’t gone back out. He couldn’t decide if that pleased him or pissed him off more. He looked at his cousin. “I’m gonna go home, man.”
“You sure you don’t wanna come back in, dude? I’m willing to bet that some shots of Hennessy might do you some good right about now.”
Jawan shook his head. Although drowning his sorrows sounded like just the remedy he needed, the thought of going back in there was just not one he could fathom. “I’m sure, man.”
Nick shrugged. “I feel you, dude. This is a real fucked-up coincidence. I mean, shit, of all the clubs we had to come to.”
Jawan gave a curt nod. “Yeah, of all the clubs,” he said, looking at the neon sign again.
“You gonna talk to her?”
“I don’t know, man. Right now, I just really don’t know. I’m kinda just barely holding it together right now, you know?”
“Yeah. I can imagine.”
No, you can’t, Jawan thought, but didn’t say. “Anyway, man,” he said, putting his hand out. “Go back in and get fucked up. I’ll catch you in a few weeks for the wedding.”
Nick took his hand and the two embraced in a one-armed hug. “A’ight, dude. I hope shit works out for you.”
Jawan stepped back. “Thanks.”
“And if it doesn’t, don’t sweat it. I have some banging chicks I can introduce you to.”
Jawan forced a smile. “All right. But don’t count on them roping me in to the business.”
Nick laughed. “They can be very persuasive, dude.”
“Yeah, OK.”
More laughter from Nick. “Cheddar, dude. The business is all about cheddar.”
“Yeah, yeah. All right, man. Take it easy. Try to remember what you did tonight.”
“Shit, if I do that, then the night will be a bust. Anyway, if your chick comes back out, I’ll give her your regards.”
Jawan shook his head. “Not funny, man. Not funny.”
“Not for you, JawanaMan. But it’s one hell of a story for the fellas.”
“M
an . . .”
“Hey, they’re gonna want an explanation.”
“Yeah, whatever, man. See you in a few weeks.” Jawan frowned, then waved, turned, and headed for a different cab, sitting at the end of the block.
“A’ight, dude. Take it easy.”
Jawan walked to the curb, checked with the cab driver to see if he was taking fares, then, after confirming that he was, Jawan hopped into the back, which smelled like stale cigarettes and pina colada, gave the driver his address, and slumped back against the seat.
As the cab pulled off and headed down the congested, pothole-laden road, Jawan shook his head. Deahnna was a stripper. He’d known his night was going to be crazy. He just hadn’t expected this level of insanity.
He closed his eyes, and as strange as his night was, a random thought ran through his mind.
Why the hell were cab rides always so damn comfortable?
28
Two days later, Brian sat in his English class sweating, although it wasn’t from the heat in the room, of which there was none, since the school’s boiler had broken down earlier in the day. Brian sweated from the anxiety coursing through his veins. From the nervous tension that had his muscles stiff. From the weight bearing down on his shoulders, making it difficult for him to breathe.
In a few hours he, Tyrel, and Will were going to pay a visit to Old Man Blackwell. At eleven-thirty, to be specific. That’s when Blackwell closed up. That’s when he would be counting all of the money he’d brought in from everyone’s payday.
It was all planned out in three easy steps.
Step one: they would roll in before the doors were locked. Step two: they’d take out Blackwell’s faux security guard, Rich, and then instruct the old man to give them all of the money he had. Step three: they’d pocket all of the cash and then quickly make their getaway.
One. Two. Three.
Simple.
They’d be dressed in their usual black attire, with black ski masks and black gloves. Just as he’d insisted the last time, Tyrel would be bringing the .45s, not to use, but just to have as an extra motivator in case Blackwell considered putting up even the least bit of resistance. Planned out, and if executed properly, they’d be done and back at Will’s playing the Xbox 360 before midnight.
Brian gnawed on his bottom lip and wiped sweat from his forehead. Every fiber of his being was telling him not to go through with it. That something was going to go wrong. That the plan was just too perfect.
He wiped sweat away from his forehead again and looked over at the substitute teacher sitting where Mr. White usually sat. The word was that Mr. White had come down with the flu. This was the second day in a row now that he was out.
Brian was glad that he was. Ever since finding out about his relationship with his mother, Brian had been like a strand of fishing wire being pulled in opposite directions. He was taut, ready to snap. His animosity for his teacher, combined with the stressful situation with Carla, and the pressure from his boys to do what he didn’t want to do, Brian didn’t think he could hold back from exploding on his teacher—something he’d been struggling against doing. Mr. White was dating his mom. He’d lied about it to his face. Whatever respect he had for the man was now gone.
He took a breath and let it out slowly as he looked up at the clock. The day would be over in five minutes. He’d head over to Carla’s for a couple of hours and somehow pretend that nothing was bothering him, and that he was just as excited about the baby as she had become.
Somehow.
Then he’d head over to Will’s to get the dirty deed done. All for money that he needed.
Brian took another full breath and blew it out hard and fast. A cloud was hovering over him, thunder rumbling and growing louder. In a few hours that thunder would become deafening. He only hoped that lightning wouldn’t flash and strike him down. But somehow he didn’t think that he could escape the inevitable.
29
Deahnna was crying. It felt as though she’d been crying nonstop since Jawan stared at her with wide, stunned eyes.
Jawan.
God, she missed him. It had only been two days, but those two days felt like an eternity. She’d tried calling him, both on his cell and at home, but just as had been the case the night of his discovery, she’d gotten nothing but his answering machine at home, and a message stating that his voice mail box was full on his cell.
She sobbed hard and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She just wanted the tears to stop. She wanted the image of Jawan looking at her with disappointed disgust to leave her alone. But, unfortunately, squeezing them only made the tears fall harder, and the image clearer.
But she deserved that, didn’t she?
For her unsavory part-time profession. For lying when she’d had the opportunity to tell the truth.
She deserved the heartbreak she was now enduring.
She turned onto her side and burrowed her head into her pillow. Thankfully, Brian hadn’t come home. She’d managed to hold herself together when he was around, but tonight she knew that wasn’t going to be possible. She needed to be free. Needed to break down. Needed to let the tears of guilt, shame, and regret fall freely.
Guilt for her lies.
Shame for showing men what she concealed beneath her clothing.
Regret for not being strong enough to go with her gut and just skip the bachelor party altogether.
Deahnna cried and hoped Brian wouldn’t be home for a few hours. She had a well full of tears to get rid of.
30
“Jawan, I . . . I’m sorry about lying to you. I just didn’t know how to tell you the truth. Please believe me, I don’t enjoy stripping. It’s degrading, it’s shameful. It breaks me down every time I do it. But, and as much as I hate admitting this, it’s just been . . . necessary for me. I make just enough at the hospital to stay afloat. I’ve tried finding another full-time administrative position that pays more, but those jobs have been hard to come by, so obviously the next alternative was to find a part-time job. Stripping—God, I hate even saying that word—but stripping was never in my plans, but with the rent, the bills, food, and clothes to buy, taking my clothes off has been the only part-time job that’s paid me the supplemental income Brian and I need. It’s also been the only thing flexible enough with the hours that I could find.
“Please, Jawan, please. I hate doing it, but I have Brian to take care of, and I would do anything, anything, for my son. You don’t have a child, so you couldn’t possibly understand how it feels to be willing to sacrifice your soul for your child. And please believe, Jawan, that I have done that. I sacrifice a part of me every time I remove my clothing for dollar bills.
“Jawan, I care so much about you. I agonized with deciding whether to lie or to tell you the truth. It is truly one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. The day I lied to you . . . God, I wanted to be honest, and for a second I almost was. But I was scared. Scared of losing you. You’ve been the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. Since Brian’s birth, really. The way you make me feel . . . Jawan, I don’t want to lose you. You make me feel so alive, so special. You make me feel like I’m worth something. Please give me a chance to explain. I love you. Call me, OK?”
Jawan hit the stop button on his answering machine. This was the first of Deahnna’s messages that he’d actually listened to. For two days he’d avoided hearing her. He didn’t want to listen to her explanation. He didn’t want to hear the sweet sound of her voice, because that would break down the wall of anger, embarrassment, and disappointment that he’d had up since seeing her at the club. A wall that was unsteady and, more importantly, unwanted. Truthfully, his pride was really the only reason the wall was up in the first place. Pride and stubbornness.
As shocked as he was, he knew that if Deahnna was on that stage, she was on there because she had to be. He knew her. Just as he was sure that she knew him. He knew her spirit, her character. Without even having to listen to her explanation, he knew that stripping
was something she just had to do.
But still he avoided her.
It was stupid. Childish. A waste of time. And he knew it. He also knew that, at some point, he was going to return her call, and things would go back to being normal between them. Sure, they’d have to discuss the matter of removing her clothes for other men, but they’d get that matter resolved. Of that Jawan had no doubt, because he and Deahnna were meant to be together. He knew it now, just as he’d known it the first time they’d met. The stars had been aligned that evening at the dance, and the big bang had occurred.
Jawan blew his nose. The head cold he’d caught was kicking his ass. He’d stayed home from school the past two days, but he could have gone in despite the sinus pressure and the runny nose. But going to school meant that he’d have to look at Brian. And looking at Brian would only have made his wall come down sooner.
Brian.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the teen knew what his mother did part-time. But even as he did wonder, he was certain that he didn’t. Deahnna would never admit her sacrifice to him, and if he did know, as overprotective as he was about her, he wouldn’t allow a man to look at his mother that way.
Jawan blew his nose again, and then threw the used tissue into the garbage can beside the computer desk. As he did, Grady, who’d been sitting at his feet, meowed.
He looked down at his furry companion. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call.”
Grady meowed. Sounded as though he said, “Now.”
Jawan shook his head. “No. Not today. I just need one more day to be an idiot. Tomorrow I’ll wise up.”
Grady meowed again. Something along the lines of “You better.”
Jawan nodded. “Yeah, Grady-Grade. I promise.”
Accepting his answer, Grady rubbed up against his leg and purred.
Jawan bent down and caressed him behind his ears. “Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I miss her too.”
31
“You niggas ready to do this shit?”
Growing Pains Page 15