by Tiya Rayne
Buck’s face contorted in a rage that made him look like a snarling dog. Even though I was right about Rebecca, and everyone standing around me knew it was the truth, Buck was still angry.
“You’re going to pay for that. It’s time we teach this uppity nigger her place.”
I tried to run, but I was grabbed around the waist and picked up off my feet. I screamed for help and threw most of my weight against the chest holding me. The first punch to the face took me by surprise. It split my bottom lip into and shot pain through my jaw. As painful as it was, I didn’t stop fighting. I knew with every fiber of my being that if I let them pull me away from Luke’s truck, my odds of survival would decrease. So I fought, kicking, screaming, and scratching.
They finally got me pinned to the ground, my face scratching against the rough pavement. The sound of my shirt ripping startled me.
“We’re going to remind you of your place. Show you what they use to do to niggers like you back in the days.” Buck shouted as he started to loosen his belt.
For a second I thought he was going to rape me. Buck was a racist pig. He often watched me with a menacing look in his eyes, but I assumed it was because he hated the idea of Luke and I together. Could I have been wrong? Could he have been watching me for other reasons? My skin crawled with the idea of someone else touching me in only the way Luke had. I fought harder against the arms pinning me down. When the first strike of the belt hit my bare back I howled out into the night. The leather belt cut into my back and tears immediately sprung to my eyes. Another strike to the back and I could feel the skin open up. He started hitting me rapidly. The leather belt whistling through the air before it struck my flesh. Each time it hit my scream grew louder. A firm hand pressed over my busted lip. I bit down on the filthy hand and I felt some of the pressure lift off me. It gave me enough room to move. I kicked out my foot and it connected to someone. I felt more hands leave my body and I lifted from the ground ready to run. I was suddenly yanked back by my hair and slammed face first into the side of Luke’s truck. Pain exploded from my nose up to my head. I so badly wanted to fall asleep at that moment.
“Stupid bitch.” Was snarled from over me as I slid down the side of the driver’s door. “We aren’t finished with you yet.” Hands yanked me back up to my feet.
Buck lifts the belt over his head, ready to bring it back down to strike me once again. With the little energy I had left, I pulled my knee up between Buck’s legs and crushed it against his penis. He howled louder than I had screamed and everything went quiet. His friends seemed to be at a lost for what to do next.
Buck finally composed himself long enough to slam my head back into the window of Luke’s truck. The glass shattered and I immediately knew something was wrong. Searing hot pain shot from the back of my head to the front. My vision immediately started to blur and I slumped to the ground.
“What the hell, Buck? You hit her too hard.” One of his friends shouted.
“Let’s get out of here.” Another guy replied. “I ain’t going to jail for killing some nigger.”
Like cowards, they scattered. I felt the blood soak the back of my hair.
I blacked out after that, I woke again in Luke’s arms as he rocked me back and forth apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault.
I left the hospital days later, suffering from a concussion and multiple lacerations. The one in the back of my head required 15 stitches.
My dad was livid that I had been attacked. Of course he blamed Luke. We filed charges, but supposedly Buck Mitchell had an alibi for that night. It became my word against his. My parents wouldn’t let Luke see me in the hospital or let him come to the house while I recovered at home. By the time I got back to school I was dying to see him. It didn’t even shock me when I saw him with a yellowing black eye and knuckles that looked as if he had been punching a brick wall. However nothing prepared me for the sight of Buck Mitchell. He was black and blue. His arm and fingers were in a cast and he walked with a limp. I didn’t have to worry about him anymore after that.
The residuals of the memory fades as I knock on the door to apartment 28B where my best friend and her husband lives.
“It’s open, Zora.” Maria calls from the other side of the door. I twist the knob and walk into the apartment, the smell of spicy Mexican food greets me.
“Hey, José” I greet the stocky man that’s sitting in a recliner with the remote in one hand and a beer in the other.
“Hey, ZoZo.”
“Where is your pregnant wife?”
José laughs. “She got a craven for tacos. Crazy women is in there making them at this time of night. You’re going to have heart burn.” He shouts the last part loud enough for Maria to hear.
“Why didn’t she just go down the street to that authentic Mexican place?” I learned a long time ago not to suggest Taco Bell to my Hispanic best friend.
“Because I didn’t want just any tacos,” Maria says entering the room and swatting José in the back of the head. Her rounded belly sticks out like a basketball under her shirt. “I wanted carnitas tacos like mi Abuela use to make.”
“Which Abuela? The fat one or the cock-eyed one?” José queries
She laughs and swats at José again while he ducks her attack. I smile at them.
When I first met Maria, we were both working at a fast food place. I had been here a little less than a year. She and I hit it off right away. I was a little skeptical about making new friends, especially after so many of my old friends turned their backs on me. However, Maria was a breath of fresh air. She reminded me of myself—before the break up anyway. She was carefree, friendly, always smiling, and always positive. She was a constant reminder of the girl I once was. When she met José four years ago, I watched my exuberant friend light up even more. José makes her feel the way Luke made me feel. Before I threw his love back in his face. I shake my head dislodging that thought.
I did it for him.
“How was the wedding?” José asks, while taking a swig from his beer.
“The married best man was caught in the coat closet with a bridesmaid, and in every picture the sister of the bride is in the background taking a selfie.”
José loves my wedding stories. He always asks about them since the second one I did, the groom got drunk and called his mother-in-law a ‘fucking over bearing cow’.
José throws his head back and laughs.
“Come on, Zo. You can watch me make the Tortilla’s.” Maria says walking out of the room, not before placing a kiss on José’s dark curls.
Sometimes watching the way they love each other is painful.
I owe a lot to these two. It was their wedding that started my photography career. Not to mention all that they do for me. I’m happy to see that they have each other, but I have to admit, I’m very jealous.
I follow Maria into her red and yellow kitchen that looks exactly the same as mine—narrow and small with outdated cabinets and countertops.
“Spill it.” She says stirring something in a tall pot that smelled absolutely wonderful.
“What?” I feign innocents.
“Don’t give me that, chica. I can tell when somethings on your mind.”
I could never hide anything from her. She’s like a bloodhound around emotions.
“I was just thinking about my past.” I take a seat on the stool beside the refrigerator.
She turns to look at me, halting her attention on the simmering pot. “What brought this on?”
Maria knows how adamantly I try to stay away from memory lane.
“Officer Warren asked me out tonight.”
Her excitement bubbles over. “Tall, Dark, and Sexy, officer Warren? The one that looks like that sexy actor?”
I laugh. From the first time she saw him she’s said he looked like Lance Gross. “Yes. How many other Officer Warren’s do you know?”
She claps enthusiastically as if she’s the one that got asked out. “So when’s the date?”
I look away from her, finding the chipped refrigerator interesting.
“You didn’t?”
“Well I didn’t say no. I told him I would think about it.”
“Think about it? Zora, you haven’t dated in years. And the relationship you have with your vibrator is creepy.” She shakes her head.
I twist my hands in the hem of my jacket. “Maria, you know better than anyone that I have baggage.”
Her gaze softens as she comes over to me and place a hand over mine. “That isn’t baggage. And many people in your situation continue to date every day. Sweetie, I don’t know what that man did to you, but you have to move on. He has.” She sighs. “Look, I was going to wait to tell you this, but José’s padre isn’t doing well. His mother could really use the help. So instead of waiting until this little man turns one, we’re moving to Miami as soon as I have him.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I know, Zora. I feel bad about leaving you like this. But that’s why I want you to find someone. I don’t want to leave you alone here.”
Before I could respond, José calls me from the living room.
“Hey, ZoZo. Aren’t you from Richland?”
Immediately my heart starts to beat rapidly in my chest like it does anytime someone mentions my hometown.
“Yeah she is.” Maria answers for me.
“Maybe you know this guy. Come look.”
I get up from my seat and follow Maria out of the kitchen into the living room where José is watching TV. He turns the volume up on the breaking news report. The female reporter talks over a video of a silver Audi smashed to pieces into a guard rail.
Paramedics were called to the scene after San Diego Cougars’ star quarterback, Luke Trent’s car swerved to prevent smashing into oncoming traffic and hit the guard rail. The reports say the quarterback was ushered from the wreck and sent to St. Matthews medical Hospital. We are waiting on updates of his condition. There were no other victims involved in the accident. We will keep you posted on this breaking news.
I was so lost in my head I didn’t even register Maria’s hand on my shoulder.
The good thing about me giving up Luke that day back in May, was that he did exactly what he said he would. Not only did he dominate in college—a Heisman winner, two time MVP and three Championships—he made it to the NFL. He was the number one overall pick in the draft to the San Diego Cougars where he’s won league MVP fours year straight and even has two Super Bowl championships under his belt. His face is plastered all over the internet and television, either for his remarkable presence on the field, his amazing contributions off the field, or from the many endorsement commercials. He is truly America’s golden boy. As much as I try, I can never get away from the one man that holds my heart. He’s been in the news lately for the announcement of his engagement to supermodel, Melissa Hampton. Melissa was a contestant on a modeling show. She was one of the few nice girls on the show. Not only did she win the competition, she also stole America’s heart. Since her appearance on the show she has been everywhere. Her newest achievement was snagging a starring role in a new blockbuster movie produced by one of Hollywood’s greatest. Her engagement to Luke has made them the most talked about celebrity couple. I hated her. She didn’t seem like Luke’s type, but what did I know. I haven’t seen him in eight years. He could be completely different from the man that I fell in love with.
“He must have been drinking. I tell you, those American football players are so rowdy.”
“José, Shut up!” Maria hits him in the back of the head.
I ignore their banter as my phone goes off in my bag.
I pull out the phone and look down at the caller. Not many people have my number. I didn’t keep in touch with any of my family when I left home the day after the abortion, and I had no friends. So when I saw the Richland phone number I knew it could only be one person.
“Hey Sean.” I say stepping into the kitchen as I answer the phone. “I already saw the news. I can’t get…….”
“Zora.” Just the sound of him calling my name sends a chill down my spine. I knew immediately something was wrong.
“What happened?”
“You need to come home, Zora. You need to come back to Richland. Your dad….” I don’t even let him finish before I drop the phone from my ear.
Just the thought of something happening to my dad turns me back into that little girl that wanted to dance on top of her daddy’s shoes. So much time has passed and so much was said and done before I left. Would they want to even see me? Just then I thought about why I ran from Richland eight years ago, was I ready to face my past?
Chapter Two
“Y ou’re lucky!” My agent rants as he paces in front of me.
I lean forward on my leather couch. My two year old Golden Retriever, Serena, is lying at my feet softly snoring. Lissa sits beside me, her feet tucked under her. We’re in my penthouse, where Lissa and I was trying to have a relaxing afternoon until Scott showed up.
“Do you know how bad this could have turned out?”
“Relax, Scott.” Lissa says, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “It was an accident, and Luke is fine.”
My agent, Scott, turns to her as if she just asked him was he a flying elephant.
“He was seen coming from a bar.”
“…but he was way under the limit. The cops said his wreck had nothing to do with alcohol.”
“It doesn’t matter what it was, it’s how it looks. And to his endorsements, it looks like the golden boy is slipping. Not to mention we are in the process of making one of the biggest endorsement deals of your career with Nike. You know what they said when I called them today,” he doesn’t give us time to answer. “…..they said they are back in negotiations and will get back to me soon.”
“I think….” Lissa goes to say.
“Do you really.” Scott mumbles, rolling his eyes.
“…..All this will blow over in just a few days.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yes, Scott. Luke is like, the poster boy for how to act in the NFL. One little mistake is not going to be an issue. Give this time, and Nike will be blowing up your phone to lock in this deal”
“Isn’t there a mall or somewhere you should be?”
“Oh, screw you, Scott.” Lissa says with an added middle finger to get her point across.
If I didn’t intervene these two would go at it for hours. My fiancée and my agent were like two male Beta fish. They could not be in the same room without eventually trying to kill each other.
“Watch it, Scott.” I warn.
“I’m sorry.” Scott says holding up his hands palms out. “It’s just, there’s a lot of money on the line, and your laid back southern charm—usually very enduring—isn’t helping the situation right now.”
It’s been two days since I crashed my Audi on the interstate. I survived that horrible crash with only a few minor scratches. Thank God I didn’t have any career ending injuries, or worse, died. I understand my agent’s worries. I’ve kept my nose clean and on the straight and narrow my entire career. After Zo ripped my heart out eight years ago, I’ve been determined to have my football dream come true. I worked relentlessly for it, and not only did I succeed, my success has even went above my expectations. I have everything that I told her I would one day have. I’ve gone back home to Richland a few times just to prove to that town how well I’ve fared. I’ve hoped to run into her over the years. I wanted to find her stuck in her little small minded town. Probably dating some stiff doctor like her father always wanted. The marriage is likely loveless and riddled with infidelity. At least that’s what I hope. To think of her happy with another man, allowing him to touch her and giving him children. Laughing at his jokes and giving him that secret smile, it all makes me sick to my stomach. However, more than anything, I just wish I could rid myself of all these damn memories.
I should never have to suffer through reminders of the girl that t
ossed my love back at me like it was used tissue. But like a thief in the night, Zora steals my thoughts. I’ll hear a song that reminds me of our time together. Maybe I’ll come across a girl with the same coffee colored skin and long black hair that makes my heart rate increase. Sometimes, it’s something as simple as a smell, a sound, or just a feeling that brings her back to me. And each time I feel the sting of her rejection like it just happened.
Two days ago it was a fan. A father and daughter caught me coming out of the bar and asked for an autograph. After signing his jersey and taking a picture, I asked how old his daughter was. He told me 7 going on 8. The exact age our child would have been.
My mind went back to the night our child was conceived. The one night we forgot protection and my future was sealed.
I had just gotten home from weightlifting. It was the end of March. The football season was over and I had already secured my full-ride to University of Eastern Carolina. At this point I was just training and preparing for next year. I wanted my NFL dream more than anything. I wanted to be someone Zora could be proud of. Although at the time, she never complained about my lack of money. She loved me for me. Or so I thought.
My dad was lying across the couch, his favorite place to be after a half-ass day at the auto-shop. He would come home, kick off his shoes, grab a case of beer out of the fridge, and drink away his misery. I hated coming home to that small trailer with all of its anger and resentment. The bitterness of my parent’s marriage after all these years seemed to seep into the walls and leave a pungent smell. The moment I walked into the home the unhappiness sunk into me. It followed me everywhere I went, until I was with her. My saving grace.
“Luke, bring me another beer while you’re up.” My pop said as soon as I walked in the door.
I rolled my eyes but grabbed him a beer from the fridge. He’s more tolerable the more inebriated he is. I handed him his beer and he sat it on top of his rounded beer belly.