Stripping down to my bra, I did my best not to smell or come in contact with the filth on my jacket and blouse.
“Mmmph, aren’t we nice.”
That either had to be the fastest trip in history or this locker room was the size of a broom closet. I bit my bottom lip as she brushed the towel across my shoulders and down the center of my back. She walked around and stood in front of me, pursing her lips as she handed me the towel, staring down at my barely covered breasts. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bought a new bra, and the cups weren’t exactly a perfect fit anymore.
So much for covertly checkin’ out another female, Michelle. No more looking at anything for you. Ever.
Thankfully she just handed me the towel, giving me another calculated up and down with her eyes that I read like an erotica novel.
“Unless you need some help, I’ll let you to get cleaned up. And again, I’m sorry.” She quietly added under her breath, “But, I’m not.”
I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be fine. It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”
I hated to be the reason for the look of disappointment on her face as she walked out of the locker room but, oh well. My hiatus had just barely begun, and after Keyshawn and Ris I needed to do some serious soul searching. I was only happy with Larissa when Rasheed was acting up, and I was happy with Keshawn when Ris was stuck on stupid.
Maybe I need to look into that polyamourous stuff, get myself a . . . No, I need to look into my own place. Where did I pack that damn vibrator? All this Honey business . . .
Honey probably needed to be up in a place just like this. From what I could remember and from what I’d seen, she was always a little off. Maybe something like this would be better for her than prison. I rinsed myself off and toweled dry quickly over the sink. There was a gray T-shirt lying on the bench beside the lockers, and I aimlessly slipped it over my head. I didn’t see her bring it back in. She had better not be watching me wash. Pulling the collar to my nose, I sniffed it just to make sure it was clean. They weren’t about to have me walking around in a funky, dirty T-shirt. It smelled wonderful, like Gain detergent, warm vanilla, and cardamom.
They needed to knock some dollars off Momma’s bill, that’s what they needed to do.
“So do you always sneak around locker rooms, sniffing and stealing things that don’t belong to you?”
I jumped and whirled around, my eyebrows raised in shock and embarrassment. I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t even heard anyone come in. My mouth plopped open and I was pretty sure it was stuck in the shape of either “oh, shit” or “oh, no.”
I’ll take “oh, shit” for $800, Alex.
Old King Kong himself was standing calmly just inside the doorway of the locker room.
Now you already know this fool’s crazy. Do you do or do you don’t make eye contact?
Clearing my throat, I brought my eyes up no higher than neck level, and then I chickened out and looked off at the lockers to the left of him, focusing on them instead. “Do you always walk up in women’s locker rooms? Because, thanks to your king-sized temper tantrum back there I needed a new shirt, so I’m adopting this one. And just so you know, I’d have plucked my son’s face clean off his head if he ever pulled what I watched you pull out there, and he’s only five.” I prayed I could keep up the small talk long enough for the nurse to come back.
“Well, I apologize for the unfavorable first impression that I’m sure I made. It’s nice to meet you,” he replied casually. His voice had a husky deepness to it that made it seem bottomless.
Why, oh, why do the crazy niggas always gotta be the ones with them deep-ass voices? And you know this fool can probably back that shit up with some crazy deep-ass dick, too. Girl, shut up!
He gave me a large, beaming smile as he came over, extending his hand toward mine. Timidly, I returned the gesture, afraid my ass was about to get yoked up as his baseball mitt of a hand engulfed mine.
Aww hell, here we go. I can see this headline now: WOMAN MURDERED IN AN ASYLUM LOCKER ROOM BY KING KONG PSYCHO MOTHERFUCKA.
Satisfied he nodded down at me and sauntered over to one of the lockers.
“I don’t think you should be messing with that. Are you even supposed to be um, roaming around at your leisure? I’m Michelle by the way.”
Um, hello? Why you tell this fool your name? What if his crazy ass done killed everybody and now he’s trying to escape? This shit happens on TV all the time. He threw shit and lost his damn mind up there not even five minutes ago. Why isn’t he in the crazy solitary? This can’t be good.
His long, tapered fingers maneuvered the combination on the lock until it popped open with a click. “We do drills twice a month to see how well the orderlies are following procedure. Patients are supposed to get checked before each visitation to make sure something like today doesn’t happen. Darren will lose a day’s worth of pay. It could have been real fecal matter instead of chocolate pudding and peanut butter. I’m Dr. Harrington by the way.”
He turned from rummaging around in the locker and handed me his badge. A smug smile lingered on his thick, full lips. Embarrassed at reacting the way I reacted to some damn chocolate pudding, I couldn’t help blushing.
Now you know you’ve been elbow deep in diapers worse than that. You should’ve known better, woman.
“Oh, yeah, and the locker rooms are unisex. It’s a psychology thing. The hospital will gladly compensate you for your clothing, and I’d be more than honored if you’d let me take you to dinner, as my way of apologizing for scaring you.” He’d turned on that bottomless-pit voice of his again and there I was teetering on the edge.
Oh, no, no, no. I’m not ready for this dating nonsense. And he seems too sweet and way too stable to even fit into my crazy-ass lifestyle.
“I . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just moved here and I’ve got a lot going on. Like, a lot. Don’t get me wrong, you seem really sweet. You just really don’t want to get mixed up in my life.”
He gave me an inquiring look, like I was something to be queried or studied on his couch. “Thirty-two seconds ago you looked like you were praying I wouldn’t chop you up and stuff your little ass in one of these here lockers.”
I scoffed. “I did no such thing. You obviously imagined the hell out of that look.” We both chuckled at my obvious lie.
“Riiiight. You were up in here subliminally threatening to slap off faces and now you think I’m too sweet? You do remember me saying I’m a doctor? A damn good one, too. I can fix anything.” He winked, and I felt my cheeks flush variations of pink and red that Crayola probably hadn’t even invented yet.
“I don’t need fixing. I just need a damn break.” My wistful reply was a combo-meal whisper of hopelessness and hopefulness. It could’ve gone either way.
“Oh . . . Dr. Harrington, I didn’t know you’d be in here. I found Ms. Laurel something to wear.” The nurse came barging in, holding a scraggly-looking set of old, used scrubs.
“She’s fine, Denise. She uh, ‘adopted’ my T-shirt. Show her how to get back to the dining hall.”
Giving Nurse Denise a smile, I then nodded good-bye to the fine doctor.
How the hell was I supposed to know the T-shirt was his? And on top of that, he caught me smelling it. I can’t lie; if it were up to me, this shirt would never see the inside of a washin’ machine. It smelled like a bald, honey bun–hued King Kong of a bottomless pit. And all worries aside, I wanted to fall in that bitch fifty ways from Sunday.
Chapter 11
No Harm, Your Foal . . . Fowl . . . Foul
I stared at the umpteen-whatever-count threads in the pillowcase so long my eyes started to cross. This was the second time he’d pulled that coming in late shit, and I was fed up. When Don Cerzulo dropped me off, as much as I didn’t want to see Angelo, I kind of needed to. We’d never discussed the terms of my surgery, fame, or hell, my life for that matter. It was one thing when it came to doing shit to get Paris back, but this was . . . w
as slavery. Do or die. How long would I have to be Don Cerzulo’s puppet before we were all squared away, and what if I got caught in the process?
It couldn’t be that hard to suffocate his snorin’ ass. Angelo snorted and sawed logs in his sleep. That’s exactly what it sounded like. Them hoes on Snapped do that shit, hold the pillow over his face and—no, wait—they shoot the niggas through the pillow. Men suffocate hoes with pillows. Must take a lot of muscle to do that shit. Look at my ass, already tryin’ to murk every-damn-body for no reason. The Don’s methods already rubbin’ off on me.
When I couldn’t take the sound of the air whistling out of his nostrils anymore, I quietly eased out of bed. My bare toes touched the cool gray marble tile, sending rivulets of pain from my backside down my legs and I cursed him. Angelo came home, took his “wash away the evidence” shower, and got in bed. I pretended to be asleep just like I always did, even though I’d just had a really good Skype call with Big. Angelo started kissin’ on my shoulders, grindin’ on my ass, and I just refused to react. I ain’t sign up for this shit. Who wanted a relationship with an absent man and some bullshit no-foreplay quickie morning sex all the damn time?
So what did Angelo do? He decided he’s just gonna lick his hand to lube up and slide in. Shit, I still ain’t move. If he was hoping that was gonna get me in the mood he missed the mark. Askin’ if I could feel it, and if I loved him. He was breathing his hot-ass toothpaste breath all up the side of my head. He eventually wore himself out, and my skin was cracked and dry. Dumb ass, I guessed he was one of those kids who liked to hit the Slip ’n Slide without water.
Talking to Big definitely made me reassess things. He wasn’t gonna be in the area for much longer and I was feeling pressed to find Paris and haul ass. Marriage to Angelo was sounding less and less appealing the more I thought about it. After pacing a hole in the living room carpet, I finally made up my mind. It was always easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.
A woman in a sweaty red tank top jogged past me as I made my way down the street. Pulling my hoodie tighter over my head, I looked around to make sure I wasn’t being followed or recognized by anyone and quickened my pace. Granted, Don Cerzulo’s ass said don’t touch anything; something good did come out of that situation.
Scarletti’s wife had a pharmacy of pills beside the bed. I didn’t even read the labels. I just emptied a bunch into one bottle. I shook out a light pink one and a pretty light yellow one. They’d either wake me up or make me calm; either way it’d be interesting.
Walk through a deserted carnival ground in any state and it’d feel just like Miami at seven a.m., minus all the beautiful joggers of course. I’d decided to press my luck and text Big to meet me for coffee. He was actually awake and agreed to meet me at a spot close to his shop.
“Look at you, looking all good this early in the morning.”
I got up from the table to give him a hug, again amazed at how big he was.
“They got some bomb-ass chai tea up in here; it’s better for you than coffee,” he told me.
“I have a confession to make: my ass don’t even like coffee. I jus’ wanted a reason to see you. But, I’ll try your tea.”
“So what has you out and about this early in the day, unaccompanied by your man?”
His tone went dry when he added the last part, and I wondered if I’d said too much in our Skype conversations.
“It’s hard to explain. On one side I’m grateful to him for his help, but that shouldn’t mean I owe him shit forever. He proposed and his daddy was there and I ain’t know what else to say. And now I feel stuck, when all I really want to do is find my baby and be happy.”
“And Michelle got her, right?” He reached over and rubbed my shoulder. I nodded. “Would I be your favoritest Big hero if I told you I think I know where Michelle is?”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious or playing. “I’ll stab you in the eye with this spoon if you fuckin’ with me right now.” I grabbed one of the spoons off the table, giving him my version of Angelo’s pointy stabby, poking his hand for emphasis.
“Damn, okay, Tonto, calm down. Yes, I’m serious, I wouldn’t play with you about something like that.”
My hand started shaking as I set the spoon down on the table. The room swayed and I blinked several times. I looked Big directly in the eye and slid my hand up his leg under the table. Honey was officially back, well, mentally anyway, and she was ready to handle business. I was the baby-voiced seductress with the womanly curves that drove niggas insane, and now I had this silver screen siren’s face to complete the picture. They’d do anything to make my pouty lips smile and hear me say, “Yes, daddy.” And in that moment, I turned it all on for Big.
“If you tell me where Michelle is and where my daughter is, you would be my Big Daddy and I’d do anything for you.”
He swallowed hard and shifted in the booth. “My homeboy looks in on Rah’s ma every now and again. We all know she always been a little off, so he make sure she got food and smokes. Just leaves stuff on the porch most of the time, because you catch her on a bad day and you liable to get taken hostage or shot if you can’t convince her why you there. Said he rode past last week and saw a woman with a little boy and a little girl in a car seat up on the porch. The car been there every day since.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Even if we were sitting in the middle of ten o’clock service on Sunday, it wouldn’t have kept me from climbing on his lap and kissing him. Up until that moment I didn’t have the slightest clue where to even start looking for Michelle. I’d have asked Angelo what he thought if he were ever home long enough. I was pretty sure he’d seem more interested in making a baby than finding mine.
I leaned back and smiled; my chin was probably red as hell from Big’s beard, but I ain’t care. “Let’s go back to your shop; you can give me a celebratory massage.” I winked. The number one rule of runnin’ any man is to keep they asses working for you. As long as they feel like they earnin’ something, you hold all the power. Because, everyone knows that anything worth working for has value.
Big grinned and paid our tab; he even offered to carry my backpack, but I declined. My emergency cash and a pistol were in it as always and it never left my hands.
“You know I’m leavin’ in a few days, right?” he said over his shoulder as he fed his fish.
“I thought it was gonna be at least a few weeks.”
“Nah, the season here is slower than I thought it’d be. I wanted to tell you in person.”
Good news and bad news. Up and down in the same day. I was instantly depressed as hell. Big wiped his hands on his jeans and turned to face me. Worry lines creased his forehead.
“What do you plan on doin’ about your baby girl?” he asked.
I shrugged suddenly realizing how overwhelmingly, hopelessly impossible my situation seemed. She was right there and I had the means and everything. Except flying to Virginia and just taking her wasn’t really an option. Anything I did now would draw tons of media attention, so I had to be careful about how I got her. Angelo and all this murder, death, kill business was a hurdle I wasn’t ready to jump over or knock down just yet. I didn’t need to tell Big any of that though. I was pretty sure he could tell from the bags under my eyes, or from the way my skin was starting to break out. My ass ain’t never been big on wearing a bunch of makeup, but at this rate, I’d have to look into some foundation or face powder. Eyeliner and lip gloss wasn’t really cutting it for me anymore.
Big’s arms circled around me and he somehow managed to duck down, propping his chin on top of my head. He sighed and it pretty much summed up the moment.
This is damn nice. My very own live-action teddy bear and he’s leaving me. What am I gonna do?
Big felt solid and safe; he was an invincible pillow fort against all my believed and make-believe monsters. He even came equipped with his own extra-large black Maglite.
“We gonna figure this out, Little Bit, okay?”
I buri
ed my nose into his chest and nodded. He always smelled so damn good, too. I just wanted to breathe him in so I could remember it later. I inhaled warmth and sandalwood.
“Girl, you makin’ my nipples sweat.” Big broke my concentration, sounding like he needed a dang church fan.
I actually stopped breathing and leaned back to stare up at him, scrunch-faced and everything. “What in the world are you talking about, boy?” I asked him.
“All that nose breathing. What in the hell are you doing? It’s makin’ my chest hot.”
Big scowled at his shirt, then leaned down, grabbing me by the shoulders. This fool started rubbing me back and forth across his chest so vigorously I was surprised we ain’t catch fire.
I yelped, “Negro, what the—”
“You was tryin’ to wipe a damn booger on me. I know how y’all women folk do.”
We both busted out laughing.
Somehow laughing turned into us kissing. And kissing turned into me in the air with my legs wrapped around his waist, moaning against his lips.
This is what the fuck passion is supposed to feel like. This feels like front-row seats to a fireworks show over the ocean with an orchestra playing dramatic music in the background. And this is the kind of feeling I’d be more than happy to settle with for the rest of my life.
He held me up with one hand, pulling my hair from its ponytail with his free hand. Fingers in my hair never felt so damn good. I groaned. Every part of my body was alive and begging for his undivided attention like it was all jealous of my hair and my lips. We’d backed up against the far wall. How or when he got my shirt and bra off I didn’t know. I’d never wanted to be out of my clothes so bad while trying to stay in them.
Of all the days for Big to make a move and then tell me he has to go somewhere. We can’t do this, not today. Not after Angelo done ran and splashed himself all up in there no condom no nothing. That would just be nasty.
We could do this any day except today. Intent on telling him just that, I broke my lips free, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Big, I need you to lis—”
Baby Momma Saga, Part 2 Page 9