Good Girls Ain't No Fun Boxed Set (The SIX romance and urban fiction volumes of the LOVE, SEX, LIES series)

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Good Girls Ain't No Fun Boxed Set (The SIX romance and urban fiction volumes of the LOVE, SEX, LIES series) Page 57

by Jessica Watkins


  “From my understanding, he had already left you when he and I met.”

  “True, but I am talking about after that. We got back together for a few months, and then, a few weeks after that day in Walgreens, he left me- officially. I thought that maybe you and he had…”

  “No,” I quickly replied. “I cut off all ties with Amiel back in December of 2008. He had no idea that I was pregnant at the time. The first and only time that I have seen him since was in Walgreens that day. Since that day, I have gone over and beyond to make sure that Amiel is unable to find me.”

  I didn’t want Amiel and his drama to interfere with my pregnancy not one bit, so after that day in Walgreens, I was not only hiding from Banks’ boys, I was hiding from Amiel too. He called my cell phone continuously until I changed my number. Then, he was able to talk Lyric into giving him my new number. Then, I had to change it again.

  “Which brings me to my question,” I told Bridget. “How did you find me?”

  With a mischievous grin, Bridget simply replied, “You know that women are much better at investigating than men are.”

  I left it at that. She was right. Though I took many measures to keep my whereabouts hidden from Amiel, I always knew that with enough effort, he could find me. Yet, I knew that only women could put that much effort into being spies, so I wasn’t too concerned with him being successful.

  Just as I was about to reiterate my question to Bridget about why she was here, Ariana came bouncing out of the kitchen waving her coloring book in the air. “Yook, mommy! Ish pretty!”

  At the sound of her voice, Bridget immediately turned to look into Ariana’s direction. When she laid eyes on Ariana, her heart seemed to melt.

  I could also swear that her eyes were watering.

  Amiel and Bridget still left a bad taste in my mouth. I still didn’t want their drama to affect my child. I was still very protective of Ariana when it came to them, so I quickly got up from the couch, scooped her up, and took her into her room without excusing myself. After sitting her in her playpen, I returned to the living room.

  Bridget looked at me with so much sadness. “She looks just like him.”

  Just then, I was finally able to see that Bridget loved Amiel and wanted him in her life just as much as I used to. It hurt me to think that she was under the impression that he was no longer in hers because of me.

  “Bridget, I was only with Amiel because it was very apparent that he was no longer with you, but I know that, in your eyes, it still didn’t make it right.” She simply looked at me as if she appreciated the words, but didn’t need them because they didn’t fix shit. “But I haven’t spoken to him in years, so your divorce was not because of me.”

  Bridget smiled sarcastically and shook her head as she said, “Yes, it was.”

  “How so?”

  “Though Amiel and I got back together for that brief moment, I knew that it wasn’t what he really wanted. And once he saw you in Walgreens, I saw something in him change for the better. He was focused on being a better man- just not a better man to me.”

  I was confused and I was sure that my face showed it.

  Instead of answering my curiosity, she sighed and said, “I know that I shouldn’t be speaking on Amiel’s behalf, but don’t punish him for attempting to do the right thing. He needed to be a man and take care of his family before moving on to another relationship. He attempted to do that, so I can at least give him credit for that. But that part of his life is over, so let him see his child, Tricey. If he was never a decorated husband to me or decorated lover to you, he was always a decorated father. Don’t take that from him.”

  Bridget only stayed for a few more minutes after that. I hated to rush her out. I wanted to hear more. At the same time, I was scared to hear more. I also wasn’t prepared for Blood coming home and the two of them meeting.

  “Hey, Tricey. What’s up?”

  Of course, I called Lyric as soon as I locked the door.

  “Girl,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Bridget just left my house.”

  “Bridget who?”

  “Bridget, Amiel’s wife.”

  Lyric let out a deafening scream. Then she yelled, “You lyin’!!”

  “I swear! I can’t believe this shit!”

  “What did she want?”

  As I entered Ariana’s room, I began to tell Lyric everything. “She basically told me that Amiel wants to be a part of Ariana’s life and that I should let him.”

  “Umph! How in the hell did she locate you?”

  “No telling. But she was right; women are much easier at being snoops than men. A background check could have told her my address, and you can get one of those on the internet as long as you know a person’s full name and age.” As I spoke to Lyric, I sat in a rocking chair and watched Ariana play in her playpen as “Yo Gabba Gabba” played on the television.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  I quickly answered, “Nothing! In the last year, Ariana has had two fathers- TWO! That’s one too many. I don’t want any other man coming into her life if he isn’t going to be in it permanently; even if it is her real father.”

  “Tricey, just let him see his baby. That’s his right,” Lyric replied. “At first, you had a reason to separate yourself from him. He hurt you and you wanted to be able to enjoy having your first child. That was understandable. But now, you’re happy. You have moved on. It’s been two years.”

  That sounded well and good, but what Lyric didn’t know was that I wasn’t sure that I moved on. I still hurt from the downfall of me and Amiel’s relationship. When I think of how he told me that Bridget and his family were more important than me- more important than giving me the title and commitment that I deserved - it hurt me just as bad as the day it happened.

  “You have moved on, right?”

  I giggled lightly. It was as if Lyric read my mind. I guess after damn near thirty years of friendship, she knew me just as well as I knew myself- maybe even better.

  Yet, I lied anyway. “I’ve moved on. I guess I’m just still mad.”

  “Then you haven’t moved on.”

  four

  Saturday, May 7, 2011

  VICTORIA

  Cocaine is a hell of a drug- for real.

  Since Friday morning, I felt better physically and mentally than I felt in years. For the first time in my life, I felt exhilarated, invincible, and carefree. There was a euphoric feeling taking over me that I was never able to obtain on my own.

  I was so ashamed of enjoying such a dishonorable high, but, damn, it made me feel so good. As I spoke to students on Friday, chatted with Crystal and Lynn, and even as I saw Vince throughout the day totally ignoring the feelings that I thought we had for each other, I felt so powerful, happy-go-lucky, and vigilant; feelings that I never genuinely felt before.

  On that day, I met Vic for the first time; the real and happy Vic, the Vic that I have always wanted to be.

  Yet, I needed more. The high would only last for an hour at most, and then I would come down, miss the high, and snort again. Initially, I used the acrylic of my nails to snort. Then I advanced to snorting the coke through a straw as it lie before me in a straight line on a flat surface.

  I knew that it was very possible to function on this high, so I told myself to do as little as possible to maintain my sanity; period.

  I desperately wanted to function normally, without the assistance of anxiety meds that made me sleepy and unresponsive, so this kind of high felt perfect for me. Throughout the day, and even until this morning, I snorted in secrecy and emerged from my hiding place a happy and energetic person.

  “Hello?”

  I sat on my bed, biting my nails in anticipation, when Tricey finally answered the phone.

  I needed more coke. I didn’t know who to buy it from, and, honestly, I was too ashamed to ask somebody where to get it from.

  However, I knew that Blood had it. How I was going to get it was a different story.

  “Hey, T
ricey. Are you busy?”

  “Not really. Just waking up. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Just checking on the ‘love bird’.”

  “Love bird my ass,” Tricey tsked.

  I teased her, saying, “You still doubting your love for Blood?”

  Ever since Blood came back and instantly made Tricey his girl, Tricey has doubted the validity of their relationship. She claims that it doesn’t feel real and that something is missing. I think that she just has to get use to loving Blood as a lover instead of a brother.

  “Can’t doubt something that doesn’t exist,” was Tricey’s response.

  “It does exist. You love Blood.”

  “Not like I should,” she mumbled.

  I nervously sat trying to think of a way to bring the subject of drugs up without sounding crazy. As I sat thinking, Tricey continued to complain about the lack of passion between her and Blood and how she knows that it’s her and not him.

  “He loves me so much. It’s like he adores me for standing by him and going through so much with him.”

  That was my cue. “You sure have gone through a lot with him. Does he still keep his work in the house?”

  “Very little. Stuff that gets left here on accident. Not enough for anyone to kill or kidnap someone over, and that’s my only concern.”

  “What if Ariana gets a hold to it? She’s old enough to snoop around now.”

  “It’s in a shoe box in my closet. She’ll never get to it.”

  I played it off with a laugh. “A shoe box? Who would think that so much money was in a little shoe box.”

  Tricey giggle as well. “You’re right. Who would think that anyone would spend that much money on that shit is the question.”

  “Is it that expensive?”

  “Hell yes. A coke habit is very expensive. I think a gram of coke is about fifty bucks. Some people do four grams in a night.”

  I cringed as she spoke. I could never afford that. The sadness and anxiety that came over me upon that realization scared me.

  My urge for the high scared me more.

  TRICEY

  When I heard Iyana and Devin come into the house with Blood, I ended the call with Vic, through some clothes on, and went into the living room to say hi.

  However, when I got into the living room, all three of them had stern and troubled expressions on their faces that I knew all too well.

  I sat next to Blood on the couch. He immediately kissed my cheek and laid his hand on my knee.

  “What’s going on?” I wondered why Iyana sat on the couch biting her nails nervously and why Devin sat next to her like a father; protecting and comforting her.

  Devin also looked like he had been busy at work. Compared to the labels and jewelry that he was usually draped in, he simply wore a pair of jeans and a white tee that was filthy.

  I knew that he had been in the garage messing around with that dirty ass trap car; either making additional stash spots in it or stashing bricks in the current spots.

  “Nothing major,” Blood answered. “Iyana is about to make this run for us.”

  I immediately asked, “Why?” Blood and Devin had runners to do this type of stuff for them, and, even though Iyana was Devin’s woman, I didn’t think it was a smart idea that Blood involve her in any of his deals.

  Iyana seemed to watch me like she was waiting for a sign from me, or for me to say something. Though I didn’t think that it was smart for her to go, I couldn’t say anything, because that would only upset Blood.

  Instead, I asked, “Where is Trevor or NeNe?” Trevor and NeNe were his usual runners.

  Devin replied, “Trevor is out of town, and I can’t find NeNe.”

  Again, I was sure not to say anything or to let my facial expressions tell Iyana how I was feeling, but on the inside I knew that it was against Iyana’s best interest to make this run. Maybe I was just still anxious because of the run-ins that I had due to my involvement in Blood’s business in the past, but as women, I felt that it was best that we stayed in our place.

  That place was at home, not making runs and touching dope.

  When Blood excused himself to make a call, I followed him into the back of the condo and into our bedroom.

  “How much is she taking?”

  Blood looked at me like he knew that I didn’t agree with what he was doing.

  But as always, he was open and honest with me.

  “Thirty bricks.”

  I could have fainted.

  “You trust her with that much?!”

  I wasn’t yelling, but I was definitely whispering harshly.

  Blood closed our bedroom door to keep my voice from escaping.

  “I have no choice. I gotta make this deal tonight.”

  “Let Devin do it.”

  “That’s his girl. What’s the difference?”

  “The difference is, she is his girl, but she has never done it before, and you have absolutely no room for error.”

  I was obviously still way more shell-shocked than Blood was. I don’t care how emotionally unhappy I was with Blood, we still had a bond and a love that caused me to care deeply for him and his well being.

  I couldn’t handle seeing him involved in any more indictments, murders, or robberies, and I damn sure couldn’t handle me being involved in any of that again because of my relationship with him.

  Blood must have seen the anxiety in my face. He came close to me and hugged me tightly.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a quick run,” he told me.

  His eyes begged me to trust him, but I couldn’t help but to let my worry surface. I heard these words from Blood before. In the past, he told me that everything would be okay and to trust him, right before a slew of mayhem unfolded and I was at home trying to stay alive while two goons beat the shit out of me.

  Yet, I decided to just let it go. I had way too much on my mind to allow Blood and his drug life to stress me out too.

  STAR

  I sat in the television room allowing an old Lifetime movie to watch me.

  I was having one of those days; the rare days that I allow my old life to infiltrate my brain and I realize that I use to have a regular life like the people that I saw on television.

  These were the rare times that I thought about Jordan, my mother, and Tricey. Though I attempted to train myself to believe that they didn’t exist, I couldn’t help but to think of them every now and then.

  I wondered how my son was doing. He turned three years old last week. I became so accustomed to existing without him that I actually forgot that it was his birthday until that morning, when I heard another prisoner excitedly telling someone that it was her daughter’s birthday. For the first time in a long time, I cried.

  Admittedly, it felt good to feel emotion.

  Being in jail doesn’t allow you to have emotions. You cannot be scared, because either the guards or fellow prisoners will smell your fear and eat you alive. You don’t have happiness, because who is really happy being locked up in this motherfucka? You don’t have joy, peace, serenity- none of that. You can’t be sad or depressed, because if you allow yourself to be depressed, you’ll go crazy in prison. So, I didn’t allow myself to feel anything.

  Absolutely nothing.

  And I survived that way. I hadn’t seen or experienced much while being locked up. I had heard of a few sexual assaults by guards and prisoners. I had also witnessed a lot of fights. Yet, no harm had come to me yet. I was sure that it was because my reputation superseded me. While awaiting trial in the county last year, I was held on bail. While there, I was being bullied by the sister of the man that I had a hand in murdering. One day, she and a group of friends ambushed me in a television room similar to the one that I was currently sitting in. She and I got into a fight. I used a broken vase in defense, causing multiple stab wounds. She died from her injuries.

  Word of the incident spread throughout the prison system so fast that by the time that I was transferred to Michigan State Wom
en’s Prison, many people had already heard of “that chick, Star, who killed a guy and then killed his sister”.

  The recollection made my stomach turn.

  I was very unsure whether my safety thus far was because of that or because of my relationship with Malik.

  I appreciated either or.

  A few hours later, my mind was taken away from the stress of my imprisonment.

  My shift in the laundry room started at three in the afternoon. As I washed bed linen and prison garb, a guard sat inside of the room on post next to the door.

  Soon, however, I got some better company.

  Malik’s shift also started at three o’clock, so, about an hour later, his sexy ass glided into the laundry room wearing his guard uniform and a devilish grin.

  Before saying anything to me, Malik gave the guard on post a suggestive gesture. Without a word, that guard stood, gave Malik his own gesture, and then exited the room.

  Once the door was closed behind him, Malik smiled at me seductively, and I squealed with glee.

  “Hey you,” I sang to him as he glided towards me.

  He looked so damn good to me. Though I have only physically seen him in his uniform, I was able to imagine what he might look like outside of the prison. He had shown me pictures in his phone of him in street clothes, and I could imagine his potential with the vivid imagination that I had to create since being locked up.

  When we were in arm’s reach, Malik bent down, slid his arms firmly around my waist, scooped me up as if I was as light as a feather, and sat me on the folding table.

  I creamed in my panties from his aggression.

  He spoke into my neck, “Hey, baby,” as he laid kisses on it.

  I giggled in response. “Did you miss me or something?”

  “Hell yea. You make me never want a day off.”

  I smiled seductively into Malik’s eyes as he looked longingly into mine. His eyes continued to gaze at the rest of my body. It boggled my mind how he could be attracted to a woman in black prison scrubs and gym shoes. It boggled my mind, but it softened my heart. I knew that there was no chance that Malik would be the love of my life, but his pure attraction to me, despite my appearance and imprisonment, let me know that he was genuinely attracted to me, and I hadn’t felt that in many many years.

 

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