“Hey!” My grandmother rushed up to my mother and gave her a hug and kiss on one of her cheeks. “Hey, Dom Dom!” She then hugged me tightly, pulled away, and kissed me on the cheek as well. Then she looked me up and down hitting me on my butt. “Girl, you are too skinny to have all of that booty!”
I blushed as she smoothed out my ponytail and puckered her lips and blew air kisses at me. “I tell you, you should, just like Cashmere, be thanking me that you got all my good looks and curves.” She bent closer to my ear and said, “I would say you got something else good from me too. But I’m a lady of Christ and can’t speak like that! But Cash knows very well what I’m speaking of.” She then clapped her hands together and cracked up laughing making my mother roll her eyes at her.
Just then my grandfather, Hank, walked toward us. “Hi, ladies,” he said.
“Hey, Hank,” my mom said. He kissed my mother on one of her cheeks.
“Hey, Grandpa.” I said. He kissed me on one of my cheeks as well
“Hey, sweetheart.” Although my grandfather and my grandmother moved out here I had to admit that I saw my grandfather more when they lived in Lancaster. But my grandmother was always coming around but my mom always acted like she didn’t wanna be bothered by her. My grandfather was distant. But I wished my daddy treated me like my grandfather treated me. He also had his real grandkids and I knew he wasn’t my blood grandfather.
“Now let’s go inside. I heard she had this catered so the food should be really good.”
“I’m sure,” my mother mumbled. My grandmother held on to one of my hands and we all walked to my great-aunt’s house.
Once inside I sat down next to my mother on one of the couches. I was glad I had worn a pair of pants because the couches were covered in plastic. I looked around the room. The thing that was weird was the fact that there really were no people there. The only one I saw was my aunt’s husband, Bryon. I had met him only a few times. My mother pretended she didn’t even see him as he came our way. My mother looked at him in disgust as he hugged on my grandmother while Hank put a gift on the dining room table.
I gasped when one of his hands grazed my grandmother’s backside. “Don’t play, motherfucker,” she whispered as she sashayed away.
My eyes were now wide. My mother gave him a look as he had his arms outstretched for her.
“Cashmere, all grown up and beautiful! Hot damn!”
“Hello,” was all my mother had gotten out dryly. She stood next to where I sat.
He then turned to me. “Little Dominique. Looking all fine just like your mama.”
“Moth . . .” my mom bit off.
“I’m just giving you ladies a compliment. I know how you get, don’t trip. Respecto baby. Trust.”
“Cool,” my mother said dryly.
“Hi.” I gave him a small smile.
My mother smiled at my shyness.
That’s when we all heard, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
“The lady of the hour is here!” Bryon yelled.
I watched my great-aunt come into the living and pose in the center of the room. Bryon rushed over to a boom box and pressed a button. “The Wobble” came on loudly in the room. I watched my aunt do the steps; she was incredibly off. My mom mumbled, “Are you fucking serious?”
“Hey!” my aunt yelled as her and her husband struggled to do the steps.
I watched my grandma join in and pop her butt up and down. Bryon’s eyes stayed on it while he danced with his wife.
After a few minutes and my aunt was out of breath, Bryon cut the music and my aunt said hello to my mother and me. “Hi, Cashmere,” my great-aunt said.
My mom gave a mere nod.
I didn’t miss the exchange of hatred between the two of them.
She then turned to me. I hadn’t been around my aunt too many times growing up. Only at a few gatherings at my grandmom’s house and at her anniversary party. So I can’t say that I was all too comfortable around her.
“Well hello, Miss Dominique. I would say you look like your mom but you don’t.”
“You wish you looked liked me,” my mother snapped.
Before my aunt could reply my grandmother whisked her sister away. “Now let me see your new crystal.”
“Okay,” my aunt said seeming unnerved by the comment.
As they stared in the wooden cabinet at all the objects my grandmother stood like she was transfixed and said, “Wow. This stuff is just beautiful.”
“My mom needs to knock that shit off,” my mother mumbled to me.
I stifled a giggle.
“What’s the value of it now?” my grandmother asked.
“Well last time I did my inventory it was up to two thousand.”
“That is just amazing,” Grandmother said, which was strange to me because my grandmother had purses that cost more. It seemed like she was being a little fake. But my mother said that they never really got along so they were trying to mend their relationship because of my aunt’s last bout with cancer.
When we sat down to eat the fried rice and gummy orange chicken I noticed my great-aunt continued to give my mom menacing looks, as she chewed the food distastefully. I mean it was gross but my mother made it very obvious that it was while we all played it off.
“I thought this shit was catered,” she mumbled to my grandmother.
My grandmother gave Cashmere a stern look.
“How y’all like the food? I had it specially catered,” my aunt chimed in. It was funny no one else was there besides us although it was supposed to be a party.
“She know damn well this shit is from that Chinese takeout down the street,” my mom told my grandmother.
“Problem, Cashmere?” my great-aunt asked.
“I didn’t say shit,” Mama said.
“Yes, you did. Say what you gotta say, Cashmere.”
My mom stared her down. Then she started laughing at her.
“And just what the hell is so funny?”
“You.”
“Cashmere. Stop,” my grandmother whispered. But it was like no one was at the table except my great-aunt and my mother. And my mom seemed like she has some stuff to get off of her chest.
“Do you really believe that you have more worth than a pile of shit?” my mother demanded of my aunt.
My grandmother placed a hand over my mother’s and slyly pinched her hand.
“Why yes. I do. I have a husband I’ve been married to for over thirty years.”
“Who is less than a pile of shit.”
That got my aunt. It seemed like she took more offense to Cashmere insulting her husband than insulting her. My mom always said that no one was able to talk about Bryon the bastard but her. I remember hearing her tell my grandma that.
“Little girl. You may be cute, live in a big house, and have a Mexican husband but we all know at this fucking table that you living a lie.”
Then my aunt turned and looked pointedly at me. My mom looked my way nervously.
“I don’t have to throw insults, Cash! Alls I got to do is tell the truth. Matter fact, why don’t you tell her the truth about her life? Or are you gonna keep her in suspense? Like y’all mama did?”
My mother stood to her feet, rattling the table. “Hey, Aunt. Shut the fuck up! One titty or not I won’t hesitate to lay hands on your fat ass.”
“I wish you would.”
“That’s it!”
I gasped when my mother lunged across the table and wrapped her hands around my aunt’s throat. Plates and glasses fell to the floor.
“Cashmere, stop!” my grandmother yelled. She grabbed her arms in a tight squeeze until she released her hold on my great-aunt’s neck. My grandma pulled her completely off the table. My mother yanked away from her and walked a few feet away from the table.
My aunt held her neck furiously.
“Catch, motherfucker!” My mom picked a plate off the floor and flung it at my uncle Bryon. It hit him in the side of his head then fell on top of the table.
; “Bitch!” My aunt stood but my grandmother shoved her back in her seat.
“Come on, Dominique!” My mother grabbed one of my arms practically snatching me from the chair and yanking me away from the table.
“You ain’t shit, Cashmere; and, little girl, if you ever want to know the truth about your life come and see me!”
“Don’t listen to her, Dom. Shut the fuck up!” my mom yelled in rage as she raced out of there. I had to run to keep up with her.
Once we got to my mother’s truck she unlocked the door and we both hopped inside. My grandmother ran outside to my mother’s window. My mom rolled her windows down and said, “I’m never coming back to that bitch’s house. And don’t you ever fucking ask me to!”
Before my grandmother could respond my mom sped off.
The drive was really quiet and my mother looked so mad I was scared to say anything to her. But I did want to know what my aunt was talking about when she said if I want to know the truth about my life. I mean I loved my mother to death. She was the best. Surely she was not hiding anything from me. But why would my aunt even say what she said? Then I thought back to my mom saying that my aunt was shady and unhappy. Then I reminded myself of how great my mom was. I came to the conclusion that my aunt was just trying to be mean. You didn’t have to be young to be messy. And plus that was my only second time being around my aunt. But I was around my mother all the time. I had no reason to question her as a person. If there was something my mother kept from me I was sure it was for a good reason. Not for anything bad like my aunt was trying to imply at that table. My aunt was probably jealous that my mom was so beautiful and had the best of everything.
So when my mom turned to me and said, “Listen, about what she said . . .” I simply placed my hand on her free hand and said, “Mom it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I just know that she is one mean lady.”
I saw my mom breathe a sigh of relief. Then she said, “Yes, she is. Okay.”
“I’m so lucky you know how to cook, too.”
To that my mom tossed her head back and laughed. “Speaking of food what do you want to eat for dinner? Because I know for a fact that I am hungry.”
“Don’t matter, Mommy.” I gave her a soft smile and she stroked my right cheek before driving on a green light.
“Let’s get some fried fish, shrimp, and some oysters for Demarco. He’s over at the shop in Compton today.”
My mother drove to Rosecrans and pulled into the driveway of Central Fish Market. We went inside hand in hand. Not like mother and daughter but like best friends. I giggled and kept up with her, happy that my mother’s anger at what just happened had washed away.
When we got to the counter a brown-skinned chick with very slanted eyes ended her call and looked at us with a smile on her face. “What can I . . . Cashmere?”
“Yes?” my mom said confused.
“You don’t remember me?”
“No, sorry. I can’t say that I do. I do hair so I see a lot of faces daily.”
“Two words: Black Mitchell.”
At those two words my mother’s face got flushed and she started stuttering. She looked at me fearfully and said, “Dominique, go sit in the car. I’ll be out when the food is done.”
“Okay, Mommy,” I said obediently. She tossed me the keys and the lady scanned my face quickly before her eyes widened. I smiled at her, looked away, and I started walking toward the door like my mom said.
Once in the car, I saw my mother carry on a quick conversation with her before sitting down. But my mother seemed uncomfortable.
Once she came back to the truck with the food she had a troubled look on her face. My mom set the containers of food on the back seat and sat in the driver’s seat. As she snapped her seat belt I asked curiously, “Mom, who’s Black Mitchell?”
“A man from my past. Dom, I’m not trying to keep you in the dark but you just have to trust that there are some things you don’t need to know now. You’re too young. But when you are older I will tell you, I promise.”
“Mom, you don’t need to promise. I believe you. If there is something you don’t feel I need to know now I trust you on it.”
“Aw, girl, you are just too sweet.” She winked at me and I blushed.
She turned on the ignition and pulled out of the restaurant. “Now let’s go surprise Daddy and take him some food.”
Chapter 7
Cashmere
I knew I should have gone with my first mind and not have gone to my aunt’s event. One thing was for sure. My aunt had not changed and she was a messy, miserable bitch. I was glad that I had gotten my daughter out of there before she played dirty and spilled the beans about my past just to entertain herself. The last thing I wanted was for Dominique to know about my past: my drug addiction, the cutting issue, or the prostitution. Hell, I didn’t even want her to know the facts that surrounded my sister’s death. I wanted to keep my daughter sheltered. When she was older and an adult then I would tell her. But not now. And seeing the lady in the fish market was also a close call. That was Meka. She was one of Black’s prostitutes when me and my sister worked for him. I was just glad she didn’t spill the beans on another secret. Maybe it was a bad idea to even come back here. One thing was for sure, if I did ever come back I wouldn’t bring my baby. I put in the new Frank Ocean CD as Dominique requested and drove toward the shop in Compton.
Demarco said he was going to be at the Compton shop fixing some things that would take all day. But when I pulled up to surprise him with the food I noticed his car wasn’t there. Weird. Then I thought maybe he stepped out to get something. “I’ll be right back, Dom. Sit tight.” I hopped out and walked inside.
I waved to all the ladies doing hair and walked into Bev’s little office. Yep, she was still working there and was like a second mom to me. I love Bev to death. I walked in her office. She was adding something up on a calculator. “Hey, babe!”
“Hey, Bev.” My voice didn’t have the happiness hers had in it. Casually I asked so she didn’t suspect anything was wrong, “Has Demarco been here today?”
“No, girl. I haven’t seen him in a couple days, matter fact.”
I blinked rapidly. He had said he was there yesterday as well.
“Give me one second, Cash. Don’t leave. I want to speak to you anyway.”
“Okay.” I sat in the chair across from hers. She walked out of the office. While I waited for her, I texted Demarco and asked him where he was.
He texted me back: At the shop in Compton. Why?
My heart sank. I just didn’t get why he would lie to me. I was convinced more than ever now that he was fucking someone else. I wondered if he loved her. Looked at her the way he used to look at me. Kissed her the way he used to kiss me with passion. Now all I seemed to get from him was a courtesy fuck. Where he seemed to have to get drunk to even touch me. It was always quick and awkward, cold, if he could get it up. And I never said anything. And thinking of him with another woman made me ache. Sad part was it didn’t for a second, for an ounce, stop me from loving or wanting Demarco. Yep, I was fucking pathetic.
Bev walked back into the room interrupting my thoughts. She took one look at my troubled face and said, “Uh-oh. Is everything okay?”
I had known Bev since I was eighteen. I knew I could trust her but not with this. I didn’t want to speak my worries. It just might make them worse. All in all I didn’t want to think the worst of Demarco, either. I mean I had my suspicions but really what woman didn’t? Especially with the problems we were having.
“Bev, I’m cool. Just tired.”
“Well you gotta stop stressing, Cash. How you gonna give that man another baby if you always stressed out? When he does come in here he’s wearing the same face you wearing now. What’s going on with you two? I remember when you guys used to be so happy together. Seems like that was so long ago. I can’t remember the last time I saw you or him smile. I thought marriage would make it better.”
I gave a tight smile.
“I know, Bev. I’m just going through so . . .” I turned my back on her so she couldn’t see the tears in the corner of my eyes.
“I can tell. But I wish you two weren’t. You used to have a beautiful thing. Don’t forget about that. Fight for it.”
I wiped my face as the tears trickled down. I couldn’t stop them. Nor the sob that racked my shoulders. Damn I missed what we used to have so much.
“You can fix this, Cash. No doubt.”
I couldn’t even look back at her. Because I had serious doubts that I could. “I’ll talk to you later, Bev.” I waved with my back still to her and walked out of the shop with my head down so no one could see I had just finished crying.
Chapter 8
Dominique
I stopped by Jada’s house after school and again found myself in Mr. Douglas’s bed. He did the things to me that always felt so good. I wondered if I’d ever be able to break away from him.
When we were done he held me and said, “Damn, baby, you really needed to relieve some stress. What’s going on? Anything you want to talk about?”
Truthfully there were some things I wanted to talk about. Like what my aunt had said at her dinner party. Why my mother was so angry at her. I know she didn’t like her. But was there something more that my mother wasn’t telling me? Was there some secret she was holding over my mother’s head? Yes, I knew that I had said that I would trust my mother but as more days went by I found myself curious. I wondered what he would think of it.
But as I talked Mr. Douglas did what he did. I wondered if he was fully listening. Wasn’t no real way to tell until we were done. Because then I’d have his full attention.
As his hands gripped me I closed my eyes to the pleasure, pain, and shame. I heard Mr. Douglas groan.
Then out of nowhere he shouted, “Jada!”
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