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 possibly 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 buried 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—”
He pinned me back against the wall and made figure eights, grazing my bare skin with his course beard. I’d just gotten my mouth tooted up to call a time out when he decided to go all hungry wolf cub on my ass. Big growled and bit me on my side. I squealed and pinched him. It wasn’t bad, he just caught me off-guard. Before I could do more damage his mouth made a swirling ball of heat around my nipples. I didn’t want to breathe anymore. Air in meant my chest would expand, drawing him closer, but eventually I’d have to let that air out. I didn’t want my skin to be any farther from his lips than it had to be. Forgetting where I was, I had one of those “throw my head back and be cute” moments. My head smacked the wall and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping Big didn’t catch that very unsexy Kodak moment.
“Um, was our meeting cancelled? Because, I didn’t get the message.”
My eyes fluttered open and were met with Big’s. He gave me an irritated “get you later” stare down as he slid me gently down the wall. Standing behind him for cover I clumsily put my top back on. I didn’t hear the door open or anything.
“Nah. My bad, T. I got sidetracked. You know how it goes. Why you ain’t hit the cell?”
“I did, several times actually. Figured, what the hell, I’d just roll through.”
“Shit. Um, Desivita.” Grinning, he glanced back to see if I was dressed. “Let me introduce you to my business partner.”
I nodded at Big, but I couldn’t bring myself to look Angelo in the eyes. It was easier to talk to the floor in between us. “We already know each other, Big. That’s my fiancé, Angelo.”
“Wait, Testa is ya man? King, the boss of Miami. Oh, fuck.” Big ran his hand over his forehead and sat down hard on the leather couch.
I glanced at Angelo. It was like looking at a shipwreck survivor, well, a rich one anyway. He’d rolled through all right. His ass rolled right out of bed, into his wrinkled-ass man capris, Ralph Lauren button down, and them preppy boat shoes that I hated. He could have rolled through a shower and a brush first.
“Yes, King Angelo Testa, the Boss of Miami,” Angelo snapped at Big.
I looked down and rolled my eyes. Was he really standing here in his Carrera shades, looking like a spoiled brat, spouting his name, when he won’t nothin’ but a daddy’s boy?
Angelo leered at me. “All I’ve done for you and you’d cheat on me?”
“You’re mad, because I’m out here doin’ exactly what you’ve been doin’? Late nights and early mornings, huh? That’s not what the lyrics mean, Angelo, you were doing it all wrong. Climbin’ in our bed from Lord knows where for what? Some stale-ass morning dry humps. Fuck outta here with that.”
There’s always that point in an argument when you know you’ve gone too far. The words leave your mouth and you know they should have stayed in your head. They hit the air and the other person’s ears and they’re the kind of words that change your life forever. Yeah, his dick game was wack but I didn’t have to actually say it out loud, especially not with Big right there. I’d heard Angelo and his boys say that “get outta here” or “fuck outta here” line at least a hundred times a day. Hearing it from me was just salt and vinegar in an open wound.
“I ain’t been doing anything, Honey, except meeting with this one”—he nodded at Big—“to go over investment business models, and then catching red eyes back and forth to Key West. I’ve been spending money planning a surprise wedding so you’d be able to walk around for a weekend without feeling like a fish in a fishbowl.” Angelo reached into his pocket and threw hotel reservations, snippets of cake pictures, and business cards onto the floor in front of me
.
He was really serious about that marriage thing. Why wouldn’t he be? You said yes to the man, in front of his daddy, and you’re wearing his ring. What the hell did you think would happen? Maybe one of us would die first and I wouldn’t have to be bothered for real. Or something like what’s happening right now would happen.
Why couldn’t the floor have just opened up and swallowed me. His lips were drawn in a grim, thin line, as his nostrils flared angrily and tears ran down his cheeks. There wasn’t even a “sorry” I could give him because I wasn’t sorry. I just wasn’t in love and had never been in love with him. If anything I was sorry he’d fallen in love and had decided to go all in with me.
Time felt as though someone had laid an hourglass on its side, stopping the sand all together. The room seemed quiet—too quiet. Waiting for Angelo to react was like watching lightning and counting the seconds waiting for the thunder. I couldn’t tell if the storm was going to move on or just quietly building up energy.
“Desivita?” a woman’s voice called out from the shop door.
The muscle in Angelo’s jaw was ticking. I looked around him to see who or how someone had even seen me. Either them pills were kicking in and I was hallucinatin’ or there was an entire fucking studio of paparazzi outside. Big got up and stormed over, locking the door to keep more of them from getting in.
“Hi, Desivita, so is it true? Are you the Angel of Death?” she asked, waiting for me to answer her dumb-ass question.
“No, and this is not a good time for any kind of an interview. I’m sorry.” I tried to sound polite but her question rattled me to my core.
“You made your movie debut in Revived 2 after the original producer, Albert Meekins, was found murdered by his lover who committed suicide. Sadira Nadeshce had already completed over eighty percent of the movie when you replaced her under mysterious and unexplained circumstances. There were even tweets about you trying to attack Sadira, the star of your current film on set with a metal bar during a scene with your on screen love interest.”
I gasped and looked at Angelo, who surprisingly hadn’t stormed off yet. No way? Al and Jasper weren’t a drug deal? But, I’d never heard anything about a producer dying; no one ever made a peep about it during filming. Unless they were too scared or threatened not to talk. Fuck, Don Cerzulo, what the fuck did you start?
The woman continued, “First there were sketchy rumors of you being spotted on the balcony and leaving the hotel of co-star Kai Nimako after his alleged “fall” from the sixteenth floor. Now, not moments after the release of Scanetti’s alleged suicide, Sadira announced via Twitter that she’s being replaced on yet another film. Her replacement in the leading role is none other than you, Desivita Dulce’. So again I ask are you the Angel of Death? Is that nefariously dark angel ring more than a fashion statement? Is America’s new ‘it girl’ killing her way into our living rooms? What kind of woman are you?”
Angelo spoke this time without looking at me. “I’ma tell you something my pop told me. He said a woman can only be one of three things: foal, fowl, or foul. What that means is she’s either gonna be a bird, always waitin’ on you to throw her some crumbs, with no real values, flyin’ from coop to fuckin’ coop because she don’t know better; or she gonna be a fuckin’ thoroughbred, loyal ’til the day she dies. You might have to put that crop to her ass to show her who’s the boss. But, end of the day, she a winner.” His voice got scratchy and he cleared his throat. “Or she foul. Fouler than . . . fouler than the stench of a slaughterhouse, in the middle of a heat wave, with a jilted freezer, and no power..”
With that, Angelo turned on his heel and strode out, letting in the mass of people who had been dying to hear what was being said. His insults lingered, burning my ears, weighing down the atmosphere. They always say angry words are the truest words. They just don’t say how much it’ll hurt to actually hear them. Both rings on my fingers felt heavier than usual; one was suddenly an ugly, embarrassing reminder of my fake-believe engagement.
The other sparked my fear that Don Cerzulo Campelli was using me for something else, something big and wrong as fuck. Now that I didn’t have Angelo in my corner I had no way to predict or defend myself against him. I had to have done something, said something; maybe Angelo found the texts from Big that very first night. None of it mattered; what did matter was getting myself away from Miami and this fairy tale bullshit. People were yelling and snapping pictures all around me and all I was thinking about was how long it would take me to get to my little girl.
Chapter 12
All of Y’all Crazy
(Back in VA)
I was sitting at the kitchen table leaving a voicemail for the office. I needed to get a few properties sold and I needed someone to start sending me listings so I could find something somewhere that felt safe. The kids were down for their afternoon nap when I heard a floorboard creak behind me.
“Trey?” I quietly called his name before stuffing the rest of the chocolate chip cookie I was trying to enjoy in private in my mouth. I folded the bag back up as quietly as possible and slipped it back in the cabinet. These were mine and yes, I snuck and ate them. Sometimes I even hid them in my clothes and took them in the bathroom. Trey and Lataya had enough snacks to fight over. It was probably selfish of me but I couldn’t help it. Mommy had to share everything from her bed to a cup of water, which became their cup of water after they’d put backwash in it. The only things I wanted right now were peace and quiet, and my damn cookie.
The house actually felt like a home again. Without Momma there to clutter it up I was able to throw everything away that didn’t have a social security number on it. If we could just keep her on her meds maybe it would stay this way. I peeked in the living room; seeing nothing I went down the hall. The door to the kid’s room was cracked.
If that boy is wandering around not answering me I am gonna wear him out. I know he heard me calling him.
Both of the kids were still in the bed sound asleep. Poor Trey, my baby ain’t have no covers on his behind. Kissing each of their foreheads, I carefully unraveled the blankets from around Lataya. I didn’t know how that girl did it. To be so tiny she always managed to burrito herself up, stealing every inch of the comforters and sheets. I made sure the pillows beside the bed were still stacked nice and high and left just as quietly as I went in, pulling the door closed tight behind me.
The wind made the branches scrape wildly against the siding on the house and I tried to familiarize myself with the sound. I’d pulled my gun on that sound the first few nights when I’d heard it in the middle of the night. It reminded me of the sound I’d heard that night I was tortured.
Counting down no longer worked when I was anxious or afraid. Not after being nearly suffocated with snakes slithering all over my neck and in between my legs. Sample a small piece of your worst nightmare, and see if it doesn’t change you. Because, in the beginning I always thought the worst that would happen was they’d kill me. I never considered all of the sick and twisted things that a person would do just out of revenge before the killing actually happened. Things that I’d have no control over if I got caught off-guard, and the thought alone made me feel frustrated, angry, and nervous.
Making my way back toward the kitchen I choked on a scream as we collided in the hallway. Something hard and metal slammed hard into my chest and rattled loudly. I fell back, checking myself for a stab wound or blood.
“Shiiiiiit. You can’t see where da hellllll you goin’?”
If Wild Irish Rose, blunt smoke, and fried chicken grease could talk, it would look exactly like the little withered woman croaking up at me in the dim hallway. The voice belonged to a skeleton-thin, slightly older version of Momma White. I did a mental up, down, and sideways double take on her. This heffa was actually wearing skin-tight pleather leggings with a tube top. She was busy adjusting the tangled 1B/27 bird’s nest propped on top of her head, giving me an irritated look. If you asked me, I might’ve knocked it straight because she re
positioned it into some kind of crooked craziness.
“I’m Michelle; um, how did you get in? I mean, I didn’t hear the doorbell or anything like that. Do you have a key or something?” I asked as politely as I possibly could.
Where the hell did I put my purse and car keys? Rah always said his auntie was a crackhead and even Momma said she comes in here takin’ . . . Hold up, is that my toaster she’s holding?
“Don’t need no key. Mona ain’ neva nee’ a key. Keys are why y’alls is slaves to the sys’em now. Stop believin’ in keys an’ you can go anywhere you wanna go. Like me.” She slurred all her words together as she stumbled, turned, and began walking in the complete opposite direction of the front door.
“Where are you going, Mona?” I called after her, worried she was about to march herself through the kids’ room. The only thing in that direction was Momma’s room and the bathroom.
Let me find out I need to hide the shower rings and soap dishes, too.
I got up and followed to see where she was headed. She mumbled as she walked into Momma White’s room, crawling across the bed toward the open window that I knew was closed and locked.
“Goin’ out the way I came. An’, let my Reena know I’ma see if I can borrow ’bout ten dolla’s from her damn illegal natives.”
Her illegal natives?
“Umm. You’re talking about the Illustration?” The fact that I even knew the right wrong name to correct Mona with almost irritated me a little.
“Mmm hmm. An’ her toaster,” she muttered as she shimmied out the window.
I sighed, calling down out the window after her, “Ah, that’s my toaster, Mona.”
It wasn’t like I was expecting her to say, “Oh sorry,” and bring it back or anything. I could always buy another toaster. Guessed that’s why Momma was adamant about staying. Mona would get in somehow and someone needed to be vigilant, or “a vigilante” as Momma had put it. I could see Mona coming back with a shopping cart next time.
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