by Braya Spice
“Sierra, why didn’t you tell me? I always told you that if any man or woman touched you in an inappropriate way or hurt you, you had to let me know. Was your daddy there?”
Her voice cracked. She took a deep breath and said, “She told me if I told you, she would fuck me up again. ’Cause she didn’t like me, anyway. Daddy was gone, and she told me not to tell him, either.”
Tears poured from my eyes now. I felt like shit for not knowing anything about this. All this time had passed, and she had gotten away with putting her hands on my child. And Greg was leaving my child alone with her.
I grabbed my purse and told Sierra, “Come on.”
I hightailed it over to Kendra’s house because her house was closer to where I lived. She was sitting on her porch when I pulled up. I leaned over and unbuckled Sierra’s seat belt and said, “Sierra, run to Kendra and tell her I said for her to keep you for a few minutes. I’ll be back soon.”
Once Sierra was safely in Kendra’s arms and Kendra waved at me, I peeled out and busted a U-turn. Since Sierra was no longer in the car, I drove sixty miles per hour on the streets until I was at Greg’s apartment. My plan was to whip his ass and hers. Her for doing the shit and him for allowing it to go down. I just might get my ass whipped, but still I had to prove a point. Don’t fuck with my child! I knew there was a reason that Sierra didn’t like this bitch!
Once I made it to his door, I swung my foot back all the way and kicked it. “Open up, muthafuckas!” I kicked over and over again.
Then I backed up and looked up at his bedroom window, searching for movement. I saw a chick peer from the window. I couldn’t see what she looked like, but I assumed it was her.
“Come outside, bitch!” I yelled. I rushed back to their door. I banged on it and kicked it. Greg must still be gone, I assumed, because he would have been out there with quickness.
She opened the door and faced me. I remembered the picture Greg had shown me, and I knew that this was her.
She had a look that said, “Bitch, I’m not afraid of you.”
And to be honest, I figured she wouldn’t be. If my own child’s father didn’t respect me, why in the hell would she? He probably talked about me like I was a dog to this girl.
With a phone in her hand, she said, “Bitch, if I don’t want you calling my house, I damn sure don’t want you coming to my doorstep. Go before I call the police.”
She had me fucked up. I slapped the phone out of her hand and slapped the shit out of that bitch all in one swift movement.
She screamed, and before she could retaliate, I gripped her hair and dragged her from her steps into the street.
“Somebody help me!” she yelled and tried to fight me off. But I had too much anger and adrenaline pumping through me to release her.
I shoved that bitch back sharply with an open palm. She staggered back fearfully, and I rushed her with my two fists, drilling her face with my left and following with my right.
Her punk ass tried to duck and scream, but I still got her.
“Bitch, don’t you ever hit my child!” I swung again and struck her in her temple.
She swung blindly at me. I took a step to the side and punched her again in her mouth, busting her top lip. Blood splattered on the street. Soon people came outside and a crowd encircled us. I gripped her weave and smacked her in her cheek. That hit caused her to fall backward onto the pavement.
I took a deep breath, walked over to her, and spit in her face. “Bitch, I’ll die for my daughter. Don’t you ever in your fucking life put a finger on my child. Now, call the police, and I’ll call, too, and tell them you whipped my child with a boot. Who you think they gonna be more sympathetic to you or me, bitch?”
As I walked off, I couldn’t help but feel equally responsible for this shit. I should have questioned Greg about this chick the moment he told me about her. But I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he would tell me if he had someone living with him or even around Sierra. I was far too lenient, and that had put my daughter in harm’s way. I couldn’t let anything like that ever happen again. Judging from the fact that she would put her hands on a three-year-old, she truly had to be a piece of shit. If I was able to forgive myself for that mistake, it would take a long-ass time. I didn’t know if I was going to let Greg see Sierra again after this. He should have been more aware and more careful about the company he kept, especially around his daughter. And if I did let him see her again, that bitch would have to be out of his life.
Chapter 11
I was too hurt, too disappointed. Disappointed in myself. Someone had harmed my child. Something I swore would never happen. Greg had been calling my phone nonstop, but I refused to answer. It was just as much his fault as it was mine and hers. He should have known what type of woman was around his daughter.
I just looked at my sister blankly at my mother’s house. For over an hour we had drilled Sierra on what went down with Angel, asking her if anyone else had harmed her. She told us no. According to Sierra, her daddy wasn’t there when Angel whipped her.
Sierra didn’t have her mind on it anymore after my mother asked her to help her make some candles. My mother was always making different types of crafts since she had retired from working in housekeeping at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Long Beach.
I was pretty much quiet.
My sister had brought some fried catfish and shrimp. I had no appetite, but Sierra, my mother, and Crystal grubbed down. Sierra loved her some shrimp. I was just happy that she was in good spirits and was no longer upset about what had happened.
Afterward, my mother set up her easel, and Sierra did some water painting. She was so played out after that, she ended up falling asleep on my mother’s bed.
My sister took one look at me and said, “Come on, littele sister, you need a drink.”
We went to Market Street Bar And Grill in Inglewood. Over a rum and Coke, ’cause I needed something strong, I reflected on my fucked-up situation. The family I wanted for my daughter, I didn’t have. In fact, my family was just as dysfunctional as the one I grew up in before my daddy died. Scratch that. It was more dysfunctional than my mother and father’s. My father used to beat the shit out of my mother and cheat on her like hoes were going out of style. So she left him. A year later he died in a bus accident. Not the traditional way. My dad was a loser. He used to break into parked buses and sleep in them. Someway he managed to set himself on fire inside a bus.
My situation continued to be dysfunctional because Greg was still in my life, wreaking havoc. The worst thing about it was the fact that Sierra was from a broken home, and it bothered me because I had done my best to avoid this from happening by trying to make it work with Greg. But it was healthier to leave him. I didn’t want to say I regretted having Sierra, because I didn’t. I just wished that I had chosen a better partner than Greg. But the things he subjected me to, he’d promised me he never would. Then I thought about Lavante. Another man I had wasted my time on, because he didn’t really want me. He just wanted pussy. He probably messed around with me to make his old ass feel young. And now I was alone yet again.
“I know you bothered by what you going through. But it wasn’t your fault, so you need to forgive yourself.”
I instantly started crying. “I made the wrong choice in men, Crystal, and I feel like I’m going to spend the next fifteen years paying for it. I never wanted things to be like this. I’m alone, a single parent struggling to make it. I’m literally living from paycheck to paycheck. I’m lonely, horny! I could go on and on.”
Crystal started laughing at the horny part.
“No. Serious. I’m a fucking mess!”
“Girl, if you don’t knock it off ... You got a beautiful, smart daughter, your own place, a job, car, and you in college. It could be worse, so shut the fuck up and count your blessings. I know Greg is a piece of shit, but you can’t worry about him, because you can’t change him and you can’t change the fact that you had a baby by him. That’s the only good things that came out
of that nightmare relationship. You just focus on you and your daughter. Don’t worry about him and what he don’t do. One way or another, Sierra is going to have what she needs. And stop being so hard on yourself. You are a good mother.”
I wiped my tears and nodded. She reached over and hugged me. I hugged her back.
I was still bothered by the fact that I was still alone. Crystal’s words of wisdom couldn’t do away with those feelings. Or the void. Lavante’s words always floated back into my head, scaring me. He’d said I would never have a man offer me more than what he’d offered. Part of me felt that would always be true.
After three more drinks I was feeling tipsy and good.
“Girl, I broke up with Troy’s ass.” Troy was Crystal’s boyfriend of the past two years.
“Why?” I asked.
“Oh, you thought this was just about you? That motherfucker was messing around with a chick with a hellish weave and some fucked-up-ass implants.”
I busted up laughing.
“And the ho was a stripper.”
“You lying!”
“If I am, may God burn a hole in my ass! We all go through stuff with these sorry-ass men.”
I busted up laughing again. Everything was making me laugh because I was super tipsy. “Let me use the restroom.”
“Okay. I’ll be on the dance floor.”
I laughed at that too.
After I made it to the restroom, I took a quick piss, came out to wash my hands, and splashed water on my face. I grabbed a paper towel and patted my face.
“Excuse me.”
I opened my eyes and looked at the image in the mirror. I didn’t need to turn around, ’cause I could see him perfectly. Tall as hell, stocky, too, with waves, dark brown eyes, wide-bridged nose. A younger version of Denzel. He had to be in his late twenties. I gave my face one final pat and offered a half smile. That was all I could manage.
“Yes?”
“I noticed that you were crying earlier. I wanted to come by then, but I didn’t know if it would be cool. But when I saw you get up, I followed you, thinking it would be my chance. Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe buy you a drink?”
“As you can see, I’m too tipsy for any more drinks.”
He laughed, and his eyes crinkled at the sides. He was cute. And all I needed tonight was to get laid. So I switched off out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and he was close on my heels.
Once downstairs I saw my sister on the dance floor. I noticed the guy was still standing near me. He was cute, and I didn’t mind the attention. And all the alcohol had me a little loosey-goosey.
“I’m James.”
“Allure.”
“You come here a lot?” he asked me.
“Naw. I’ve never been here before.”
“Really?” he asked. “You must not be a party girl.”
“God, no!”
His eyes slid over me. He muttered, “Hell, yeah. I need a good girl in my life.”
I was a good girl. But it hadn’t helped me in my life. And it seemed that the two men I did give myself to had preyed on that, instead of embracing it.
Out of nowhere he asked, “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“Please.”
“No, honestly. No one ever told you that before?”
“Yes,” I said. I left out, “But they were bullshitting, ’cause they were after something from me.”
“How long is your hair?”
I used to be annoyed by this question. But I had been asked it so many times, I was used to it. Brothers, a word of advice, I thought to myself. Because a woman wears braids or ponytails, or even weaves, for that matter, doesn’t mean she’s bald! Beyoncé, Tyra Banks, Ciara, Lisa Raye, and all those other broads on TV that men lusted over have all worn weaves. Yet when you see a sista wearing anything other than her real hair, you want to get disdainful. Just sayin’.
“My hair reaches to my shoulders, but I prefer to wear braids.”
“And they look good as fuck on you! I don’t mind that mother earth shit. Natural.”
I was far from mother earth. That was more like Afros and dreads. But I told him, “Thanks!”
“Do you know what I do for a living?”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an accountant for a Fortune Five Hundred company, and I do taxes on the side. I’m twenty-nine.”
“Nice.”
I wasn’t divulging what I did, because I wasn’t established yet. And it didn’t seem like he cared. In fact, it seemed like all he wanted to do was talk about himself.
“I also live in Baldwin Hills.”
I knew the area was where wealthy blacks lived. “How old are you, and what type of work do you do?”
“I’m twenty-three, and I will be twenty-four next month. I work in the child-care center at Long Beach City College.”
“Where do you live?”
“Okay. What do you want ? You didn’t come over here to talk about geography and careers.” Really tickled, I laughed at my own joke.
He laughed too. He had to be as tipsy as I was.
“I like you already. And I feel this connection with you, this chemistry, which I don’t often find. I know you feel it, too, even if you don’t want to admit it. You trying to play hard to get.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know about all of that.” However, I did feel something, but I didn’t care to admit it. I was probably never going to see this damn man again, so why not play along with it for one night?
James reached over, grabbed me by my waist, and pulled me toward him. I had no choice but to hold on to his upper arms to steady myself.
“When can I see you again?”
“For what?”
“For starters, I want to suck your pussy. Then I want fuck the shit out of you. You look like you need to be fucked right.”
His words had me salivating. I did need to get fucked right.
I stared at his pants, focusing on his package. Then I casually rested my hand there, feeling for socks. All I felt was dick, and a nice-sized one at that.
“That’s all dick, baby. All man, and it can be in you all night.”
I didn’t answer, just pulled back.
“Come on,” he said. “Can I see you again?”
And you know what? I needed to get Lavante’s punk ass out of my system. And relieve some stress from what had happened with Sierra.
I leaned over and kissed his sexy-ass, plump-ass lips. “You can see me now. Let’s get out of here.”
I didn’t even take the time to tell Crystal. I merely sent her a text telling her I was bouncing for a minute.
Chapter 12
I kept on kissing those lips and didn’t stop kissing them until we got to the hotel up the street from the club. All I wanted was to lose myself in him, like in this poem I read. I chanted the lines in my head as ole boy groped my ass and kept sliding his tongue in my mouth. I wanted to feel real love, but I hadn’t felt real love from a man in ages, since my daddy. I remembered the time when I was four years old and I was on the toilet, taking a shit, and I was scared to get off the toilet because I saw a spider in the corner. I ended up falling asleep on the toilet. Then my daddy came and got me off, even wiped my ass for me.
That was the last time I ever felt real, genuine love from a man, the type you instantly recognized by the way they looked at you—like they adored you. I knew that love was damn sure not in this room! But I didn’t care. Being a good girl hadn’t got me no damn where, and it wasn’t getting me nowhere tonight, either. I didn’t want to be a good girl, no way. I wanted to be bad.
So I pushed him off of me and stripped out of my clothes. Then I flung my ass to the side and posed naked in front of him, as if this little experience and the pain I had under my belt made me a big girl. I wasn’t no big girl. I was more like a grown-ass woman that was lost. Looking for love from a man. Thinking it was all I needed. Naw, fuck that. I knew it was all I needed. Minus the drama that came with it.
>
He licked his lips as I split my legs open and gave him a view of my pussy. What the fuck was I descending into by giving myself away like this? But oh well. I lay on my back, spread my legs in the air.
“You are so beautiful.” That was what he said before his head dipped down into my pussy and he started licking it like a kitty cat longing for some warm milk and finally getting it. Slow, light strokes, inserting his tongue into the folds of my flesh like it was a small penis. Making me bite on my lips and causing my legs to tremble. Tossing that finger of his up into me and chasing his finger with his tongue, mumbling as I was moaning. He was mumbling, “Uh-huh, baby, your pussy is so sweet.”
I knew why my pussy tasted sweet. I hadn’t tasted it or anything. But on a daily basis I drank juice, mostly apple and grape, and pineapple and guava juice, too. I never had soda, coffee, or tea, or too much alcohol. I was sweet up in my heart too. But I doubted he gave a damn about that, and he probably wouldn’t even get to know me. Listen to me. Damn. I was about to be burned. But he sure fucked the shit out of me.
The next day I was sitting on my porch steps, wanting nothing more than to watch my child ride her jeep in the courtyard. But James was bugging me.
I should have never given this fool my number, I thought as I listened to his bullshit. Before I’d slipped out of his car after our intense sex session at the hotel, I’d given him my cell digits. Since it was a one-night stand, I didn’t think he would call. I thought he’d asked for my number just to be polite. And I gave it to him to be polite. He’d dropped me off right back at the club, where Crystal was waiting for me. I had texted her again on the way to the hotel and had told her I would be back. When I made it back to the club, she popped me on one of my arms and exclaimed, “You little slut!”
“Why are you being so cold to me?” he asked.
“Because I can.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass.”
“I can be whatever I want to be. You ain’t my damn man.”
He tried to get sexy and lowered his voice, saying, “But I want to be, baby.”