Addicted to an Addict

by Honey

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Lomax, this is Frances. I just sent you a few pictures that you’re going to find quite interesting.”

  “Mmm . . . I’ll look at them as soon as I get home. I don’t text or read text messages while I’m driving. I just left Lennox Square Mall doing a little retail therapy. Ugh! I’m so damn tired of this campaign. I don’t care if Denny wins or not at this point. I just want my life back. Or I could hide out like Mink Bishop does,” Charmaine laughed.

  “I think she’s doing more than just hiding out, ma’am. I believe she has left the scene. Once you see the pictures, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. You’ll call me later, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, I’ll be in touch.”

  Frances ended her conversation with her boss feeling satisfied with her work. She was more determined now than ever before to crack the Mink Bishop case.

  * * *

  It was a rainy night in Georgia, and along with the heavy downpour came a feeling of melancholy descending upon Josiah. As the limo made its way through the city over the wet asphalt, he dreaded going home to a dark, quiet house. What he looked forward to even less was spending another night in a cold, lonely bed. Weeks of separation had forced him to adjust to celibacy and solitude in the bedroom, but Josiah would never get used to the lack of intimacy. There was a big difference between the two scenarios.

  If sex was the only thing he wanted, he could’ve easily solved that problem by now. Women were willing to throw their panties at him every day, anytime of the day, anyplace, and anyway he wanted it. But that’s not what Josiah wanted, and it damn sure wasn’t what he needed. He needed some TLC in the worst way. And that didn’t necessarily include sex. He craved a deep connection with someone he cared for who could reciprocate his feelings. He would gladly settle for a kind word or a soft gesture. Every good man deserved to be greeted with a caring, feminine touch and a toe-curling kiss when they returned home after a long day at the office. He also needed a listening ear to hear his concerns, fears, disappointments, and accomplishments at the end of the day. A delicious, home-cooked meal, a steamy shower, and wild, nut-busting sex would be the perfect way for any upstanding brotha to wind down at nightfall. But Josiah had only been privy to food and showers. And most nights, those showers were cold ones.

  Josiah thanked Nelson for working late when the car stopped in front of the house. Then he ventured out into the rainy night without even opening his umbrella to protect him from the chilly raindrops. His thoughts drifted to Gypsie as he turned the key in the lock. If he were a low-down, two-timing dog, he would’ve propositioned her by now. And the way she looked at him sometimes was evidence that she would have no qualms about becoming his lover. But decency was more important than pleasure, so Josiah refused to go down that road.

  * * *

  “Good afternoon. Mayor Bishop’s office. How may I help you?”

  “Hello. My name is um . . . Lisa Jones, and I work for the Atlanta Journal Constitution. I’m trying to reach the first lady of Atlanta for an interview about her role as a political wife, mother, and her plans for her life after politics.”

  “If you’ll give me your name and telephone number, I’ll make sure that Mrs. Bishop receives your message,” Gypsie lied smoother than whipped cream.

  “Can’t you just give me her direct number so that I can reach her right away?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do that, ma’am. The mayor and his wife have private telephone numbers, and I’m certain you know why. If you wish to speak with Mrs. Bishop, you’ll have to leave your name, number, and a brief message with me or any other member of the mayor’s staff. Then Mrs. Bishop will return your call at her earliest convenience if she’s interested in sitting for an interview with you.”

  “You sound like a damn voicemail recording!” The woman ended the call abruptly.

  Gypsie stared at the receiver in her hand, unable to believe how unprofessionally the woman had acted. But what disturbed her more than that was her interest in Mrs. Bishop. It was important that she alert Josiah right away, but he wasn’t in his office. He wasn’t expected to return to city hall until tomorrow morning. Gypsie stood quickly from her chair and rounded her desk.

  “Cover me,” she instructed Rebecca as she made a mad dash toward Jeremiah’s office.

  Without knocking, Gypsie burst inside his private work space.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Yeah, you know I’m going to tear that ass up tonight.”

  “Jeremiah!” Gypsie blurted out on a gasp and closed the door behind her.

  “Whoooa!” He swiveled around in his chair with the phone pressed to his ear. “Um . . . Hey, let me hit you back later. Something just came up.” Jeremiah ended the call. “What’s up, baby girl? Sit down. You look like you just saw a zombie or something.”

  Gypsie dropped down in a chair like a ragdoll. “A reporter just called. She wants to interview Mrs. Bishop. I asked her to leave her name, number, and a message, but she got defensive and hung up. She sounded persistent. What if she—”

  “She won’t find out a damn thing, no matter what. I’ll send out a memo to the entire staff, reminding everyone that all of JoJo’s contact information, including his address, is confidential and should not be shared with the public. And I’ll speak with the head of security in his community. No reporters or unfamiliar individuals will be allowed access to his house. Does that make you feel better?”

  Gypsie nodded her head and closed her eyes, clearly shaken.

  Her concern for Josiah blew Jeremiah’s mind! She was in full protective mode. Only a woman in love would be so upset and ready to go to war to defend a man’s privacy. Josiah didn’t realize how lucky he was. He was still stuck on Mink’s disloyal, strung-out ass.

  “He needs to know about the phone call, Jeremiah,” Gypsie whispered after some time.

  “Yeah, we definitely have to put him on alert. Let me tell him, though. You can follow up with details later on, but I’ll break the news to him this evening. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  “Hey, everybody. My name is Mink B., and I’m an addict.”

  “Hello, Mink B.,” the small group of people seated in a circle responded in unison.

  Mink took a deep breath as she studied the faces of her peers sitting around her. It was the first time she had ever spoken in a group session since she’d been a resident at the rehab facility. She had been fairly open and somewhat honest in her individual therapy sessions, but she’d chosen to be silent in the presence of the other residents until now.

  “This is my fourth time in in-patient treatment in two and a half years. I don’t know how many times I’ve gone to intensive outpatient treatment, but I’m the queen of Narcotics Anonymous. Hell, I can recite the twelve steps, twelve traditions, and half of AA’s Big Book by heart.”

  Everyone, including the clinician, laughed.

  “Yeah, I know the entire program like the back of my hand, but I haven’t really been working it. I’ve been bullshitting my sponsors, fellow addicts, my husband, and myself. I was simply going through the motions and talking the talk, but I was never completely honest with anyone, including Mink. I didn’t want anybody to know that I had been bullied and verbally abused as a child and teenager by my peers. Yeah, I was an army brat, and no matter where my father was stationed, I never seemed to fit in. I tried like hell to blend in, but I was always a misfit.” Mink broke down in tears.

  The clinician snatched a few tissues from a box on her desk and walked over to Mink. She offered them to her, and when she accepted them, the woman wrapped her arm around her drooping shoulders.

  After she wiped away her tears, Mink took a few cleansing breaths and released them slowly. “In California, I was a country bumpkin. I was labeled a whore in South Carolina because of the way I dressed. Hell, who the fuck knew that wearing DKNY was against the law? Anyway, we moved to Texas next. Those motherfucking white kids called me a nigger to m
y face all day, every day! They considered me too black, but in Upstate New York, I wasn’t black enough according to the African American army brats. And in Germany, I was treated like constipated shit because I was just as smart, if not smarter, than those kids were. Then I was betrayed by the one person who I thought truly cared about me, and it cost me a lot mentally. I really lost more than I was ready to lose. And my parents were a huge part of it. My dad’s military career and his desire to climb the ranks were more important than me and what I wanted. After that, I had an emotional meltdown.

  “By the time I returned to the States for college, I was fucked up. I didn’t know who the hell I was, or where I belonged until I met my knight in shining armor. I attached myself to him for mental security and held on for dear life. I rode the tidal wave of love with him to help him fulfill his dreams while forgetting all about what I wanted to be. I didn’t know how to get off of the wave to find myself. I felt trapped in his world, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him. So the first opportunity I was offered to escape my unhappy existence, I took it. I used heroin for the first time in a public restroom, and I loved the brief getaway. Just for a little while, I wasn’t a wife or a mother or a misfit. And my greatest sin wasn’t dangling in my damn face, taunting me. I was free even though it was only temporary.”

  After a few moments of silence, members of the group thanked Mink for sharing her story. She felt a bit of relief for revealing a portion of her life, but the untold was still buried deep within her soul. As the meeting continued with more stories from other residents and readings from the clinician, Mink’s thoughts drifted into the past.

  “Mink, are you drunk, baby?” Josiah asked, approaching her at the bar.

  “Just a little bit, JoJo.” She giggled and took a small sip of Merlot. She wasn’t really drinking the wine. Gayla had advised her to take a few sips so that the smell of alcohol on her breath would throw her husband off from the real source of her high.

  Josiah removed the glass of wine from Mink’s loose grip and placed it on the bar counter. “It’s time to go, baby. You’ve thrown back one too many. You would get wasted on your first night out in a while.” Josiah laughed and helped Mink stand from the bar stool. He grabbed her beaded evening bag and guided her away.

  Mink looked back at Gayla Fordham who was even more smashed than she was. But she managed to raise her hand to her ear with a crooked smile on her face, gesturing for her new fellow druggie to give her a call. Mink nodded in response, assuring Gayla that she would reach out. And she would.... Many, many times.

  The sound of chairs scraping against the floor and bodies moving zapped Mink back to the present. She blinked a few times and looked around. The other residents were up and joining hands to form the traditional circle to recite the Lord’s Prayer, which would terminate the meeting. Mink got up and eased between two women she’d been relatively friendly with in passing. She closed her eyes and prayed with the rest of the group. As soon as the prayer ended, she made a beeline out of the room and headed down the hall to find her favorite orderly. She’d obviously spoken too much in the meeting because the baby whimpers had returned, and it made her anxious.

  “Pssst . . . You looking for me?”

  Mink whipped around quickly and smiled when she saw Greg, the orderly. She looked around to make sure they were alone before she rushed toward him. “Yeah, I was looking for you. You got something for me?”

  “Maybe.” He smirked and licked his lips.

  “Don’t fuck with me right now. I’m crashing. You know I’m good for it.”

  Greg scanned the area around them before he reached inside his pocket and removed a tiny plastic bag and stuffed it in Mink’s cleavage. He grabbed his crotch and smiled. “I get off at five. I’ll double back and see you at eight.”

  “But that’s meditation time. I can’t miss that or I’ll lose privilege points.”

  “Sometimes you gotta make sacrifices to get what you want. You ain’t new to this, baby. So, what’s up?”

  Mink blew air from her cheeks in frustration. “I’ll be in my room pretending to be sick.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  * * *

  “Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy. To the only wise God our Savior, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen. Consider yourselves dismissed. Fellowship with your brothers and sisters before you depart from the house of God.”

  Myrlie watched her husband, Reverend Paul Bishop, as he made his way to the front doors of the church to greet his flock. Something was bothering him. The Holy Ghost had shown her during Bible study and prayer meeting. The good reverend had taught a wonderful Bible lesson, and the fifty or so church members in attendance had received it enthusiastically. But throughout his soul-stirring message, Myrlie saw something in her husband’s eyes that troubled her spirit.

  She had been in love with the boy, who everyone knew would become a preacher like his father, since she was 10 years old, and he was 13. They had courted all of their teen years and through college and then married shortly after that. He was her rock when their 3-month-old daughter died in her arms of respiratory failure two years before they celebrated the birth of their identical twin boys. Myrlie and her husband, whom she and her sons affectionately called Rev, were best friends and soul mates. That’s why she knew by just looking at him that he was worried about something.

  Myrlie handed the few Bibles she had gathered from the pews to a passing usher and walked slowly toward her husband. He looked at her and smiled before he turned to shake hands with one of his deacons and peck the man’s wife on her cheek. Myrlie began to shake hands and hug members before they left the building alongside Rev. They chatted with their faithful Wednesday-night followers until the last soul had left. Myrlie watched Rev lock the double doors and secure the padlock.

  She gently placed her hand on his back and immediately felt his muscles flex with tension under her touch. “What’s the matter, honey? And before you lie and tell me nothing, remember we’re in the house of the Lord. I’m not a weakling, you know. I’m tough, and I can handle anything. I whipped Peggy Finney’s behind good when I was in the seventh grade after she kissed your cheek at the Sunday school picnic.”

  Myrlie and her husband of forty-two years laughed hysterically and embraced. She squeezed Rev tightly, silently praying that her strength would sustain him through whatever was bothering him.

  “A spiritual storm is coming, Myrlie Anne. God didn’t tell me when, but it is coming. Josiah is in trouble, but he doesn’t even know it. He’s a good boy. God knows he is. We love him and Jeremiah more than we love ourselves, but he made a bad mistake when he married Mink.”

  “I was never very fond of her either, but Josiah just had to have her.” Myrlie dabbed at her tears with her fingertips. “What can I do to help my baby, honey?”

  “Call Josiah and ask about the grandbabies and the reelection campaign. You can even ask about Mink, God bless her drug-addicted soul. Just talk to him, Myrlie Anne, but before you do, join your husband at the altar in prayer.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  After entering the dark house, Josiah dropped his briefcase carelessly on the floor and headed for the stairs. He was exhausted and slightly tipsy after a few too many shots of Don Julio tequila. Once his last political function of the night had ended, Jeremiah hit him with the news that a reporter was snooping for a scoop on Mink. Hearing some shit like that was enough to drive any sober man to drink. But thank God for Nelson Brown, his loyal driver. The man was a godsend. An ex-convicted armed robber, who was now a faithful member of Fresh Anointing Pentecostal Church, he’d insisted on working late so that he could deliver his boss home safely. Jeremiah had been in a hurry to get across town to spend time with one of his playmates.

  Josiah pressed a series of numbers on the lighted keypad located on the wall at the bottom of the staircase,
activating the security system. He planned to go straight to his girls’ room to sneak a peek at them as they slept before retiring to the master suite for a quick shower. He was sure he wouldn’t have a problem falling asleep after that.

  Just as he placed his foot on the first stair on his way up, Gypsie appeared on the landing above. “Josiah!” she greeted him, running down the stairs.

  Absentmindedly, he gathered Gypsie in an intimate embrace, lifting her off of her feet. Her soft curves, bearing a subtle floral scent, fit perfectly against his tired muscles. Their bodies locked together perfectly and securely like the final two pieces of an unfinished puzzle. When their lips first touched, Josiah felt his spirit take flight. Sweet Jesus! He felt born again the moment his tongue connected with Gypsie’s. She moaned out her pleasure as their tongues indulged in a daring dance—exciting, enticing, and erotic.

  Josiah instantly got caught up and was slowly losing control. The humongous bulge between his thighs was harder than Stone Mountain as it pressed into Gypsie’s midsection. His hands found their way to her round bottom as he lowered her to her feet. He gently pressed her back against the wall and continued exploring her body with curious and greedy fingertips. Quickly, Josiah gathered the flowing skirt of Gypsie’s caftan, lifting it inches above her knees. He caressed her inner thighs and spread them apart while still devouring her mouth with sizzling, juicy kisses. He took great joy in branding it thoroughly with his hungry tongue.

  Muffled buzzing and a vibrating sensation robbed them of a very passionate exchange. Against his wishes, Josiah broke the kiss and took a backward step. His eyes never left Gypsie’s as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. He touched his breast pocket, realizing his phone was ringing. He removed it and answered quickly.

  “Hello?” he mumbled in a labored breath. Then he reached out and rubbed his thumb gently across Gypsie’s swollen bottom lip.

  “JoJo, did Mama wake you up, baby?”