“I’m sorry. Please, Mike Mike,” I pleaded with him through sobs. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry,” I cried, finally finding the courage to speak.
“You think I’m stupid, huh?” His response was quick and direct. “Is that what in the fuck you think?”
“No,” I fired back just as quickly. “I was only taking a shower. I swear that was it.”
“Shut up, Sable. I ain’t stupid. You sneaky just like that bottle-guzzling mother of yours.” His insults cut like a knife. “Now, what was you doing while I was gone that you needed to take a shower? Who you done fucked up in my damn house, you tramp?” His anger increased with each passing slurred word. “I’m about to go kill them right before I off you.”
“Whoa, wait, Mike Mike. Stop. I’ve been here talking to Jazz, drinking wine. Stop tripping, please,” I begged, holding both hands up, trying to slow down his attack. I started to scoot back, looking up at him with tears covering my face. “I’m sorry. Please let me up.”
He didn’t say anything. He was silent, giving me a strange look. Amazingly with the Almighty Spirit taking over me, I was able to slide up the wall and stand. My body was shaking from fear and excruciating pain as he stared me up and down while still nursing a hard-on. I wept harder, hoping he’d have compassion on me. I prayed he’d let me go, but, of course, my prayers went unanswered. My agonizing grief seemed to have the opposite effect on Mike Mike. He was getting turned on by me being at his mercy.
“That crying and whining don’t mean nothing to me, Sable. If I catch your punk ass cheating, I’m gonna kill you, no questions asked. You can believe that.”
The way we rocked in and around his house, those words were bond to me. Once I got to Miami, he could trust or swear on his life that I’d never be back.
“I don’t like no sneaky shit, Sable. You already know how I get down.”
“I know,” I whispered, wiping my face, smearing tears and snot.
“Spread your legs,” he suddenly commanded, grabbing himself again.
I knew this was coming. He walked over toward me with an evil expression plastered on his face. With deliberate force, he plunged two fingers deep inside my dryness. I wasn’t sexually turned on at all. “Stop.” I pulled back as the tears welled up again. I was far from being turned on from his strong-arm tactics, his harsh words of criticism and accusations, not to mention, I had no idea where his filthy fingers had been earlier that night.
“Oh, was you wet for him before I got home?”
“There wasn’t a ‘him,’ Mike Mike. Stop . . .”
He backed up from me, unbuckling his pants. It was time to get boogie, and I wanted to scream out. His dick fell out of his pants hard, thick, and ready for attention. “The thought of getting this pipe don’t get that pussy wet?” he asked, rubbing it longer. He was definitely off a pill. My mind couldn’t make my coochie react. Relentless to get his rocks off, he barked out more demands. “Okay, then, you useless slut, get on your knees.”
Terrified to say no, I dropped down. Opening wide, I allowed him to glide in and out of my mouth. Strangely, my body automatically reacted as I started to get wet finally. As he picked up on my willingness, he began to drill harder, holding my head still by my now-matted hair. “This mouth is mine too, you dirty come dumpster, ain’t it?” He eased his manhood out, staring at me for confirmation.
Wasting no time, in one motion, he grabbed me by my throat, lifting me off the ground. I was shocked and stunned and brought back to the reality of him being a drunken monster. My feet dangled from the ground as his ashy-worked hands choked my throat. I wasn’t no fool, so I played along with him, but my eyes bulged with fear. Pulling at his braids and tugging his ears, which always turned him on, I prayed for it to begin so that it could be over.
Chapter Three
Sable
The love-hate relationship we’d grown to revel in since childhood had ended. The beatings had gone too far. My life was in constant turmoil, trying to love this man. I had to get the fuck out of Dodge—and fast. Mike Mike moved lightly in his sleep, cuddled up close with his arm draped over my stiff body. Nothing had gone as planned thus far, and I knew Jazz was waiting impatiently for my vehicle to pull up. The digital red numbers on the clock read 5:22 a.m., and the sun was slowly trying to creep up.
“Baby,” I whispered to him, nudging his side. “I’ve gotta go pee.” I tried coming up with anything so that I could get ghost. But in the long run, this lie was the best excuse for me to attempt to get out from underneath him. If he’d thought I was bullshitting with him, things would get worse. “Babe—”
Opening his eyes, he grimaced with pain. “Bring me one of those strong painkillers, ma. My head is thumping.” Closing his eyes, Mike Mike rolled over, rubbing his temples, trying to relieve pressure.
Hurrying to the medicine cabinet which resembled a well-stocked narcotic pharmacy, I scanned the shelves for a Motrin or Tramadol. Every time he sent me to the emergency room for some trauma or blunt force to the head, the doctors prescribed these. Stopping on the Valium, I snatched the orange bottle off the shelf and read the warning label. “May cause drowsiness, alcohol intensifies the effect, may cause blurred vision and dizziness.” Perfect.
Unscrewing the cap, I took three out and filled a glass of water for him to wash them down. It wasn’t the best plan laid by a genius, but the only way I saw to buy me enough time to get out. If Mike Mike noticed his money had been tampered with, he’d beat me dead for sure. Hopefully, the pills would make him sicker than a dog or too delirious to react to me disappearing. Either way, I needed time to get out of Detroit.
“Here, baby,” I handed him three small pills and the water. “These will help with the headache and nausea soon to come,” I lied.
“Yeah, my girl be having all the shit. We ought to start slanging these in the streets.” He popped them down his throat before taking a large gulp of water.
“I’ve made a few friends, some nurses from being down there so much who can probably hook me up with a few scripts for some side cash.” Even though he heard the truth, I knew there’d be no chance of my sold pipe dream to play out for him.
“Cool, that’s what’s up,” he groggily replied, making me wonder if the Valium had kicked in already. “Start putting that shit together, ma.” Mike Mike rested his head on the pillow as I moved toward the dresser to pull out some clothes and underwear.
“Oh, for sure. Let me get her number out and put it on the nightstand, so I’ll make sure to remember,” I played it off. Hearing him grunting, I turned around to see him grabbing his stomach, twisting his face in agony.
“Mike Mike,” I screamed, seemingly concerned but knowing what was up. “Are you okay?” I knew he had been drinking and popping pills with some hothead whore. So, of course, taking the Valium could only cause him distress, be uncomfortable, nauseated and sick, or overdosed. Whatever the case, I was about to be a witness to it.
“Bitch, you know I ain’t . . .” he huffed, grabbing at his stomach. I slipped on my panties and bra right before he leaned over the bed and threw up. “Urg, Urg,” he violently hurled all over our shiny hardwood floor.
“Oh no, Mike Mike, you seem sick,” I taunted him, knowing he wasn’t coming back from the three-pill dosage any time soon. Finished putting on my clothes and my sneakers, I left him to dehydrate himself and got my luggage and come-up money out of the spare bedroom.
Dragging it out and fiddling with the keypad to pop the trunk and unlock the doors was taking forever. My nerves had me shaken. “God, please, help me get it together,” I quietly whispered, looking into the dusk sky. Feeling my phone vibrating, I jumped. With everything going on around me, every bump was bound to have me shaken and stepping cautiously. Knowing it was Jazz, I quickly answered to let her know what was up.
“Girl, I know you’re over there, calling me all types of bitches. But it’s been crazy this way, and to make a long story short, I gave Mike Mike a Valium off his liquor and probably Moll
y.” Finally, tossing my luggage into the car, I awaited her stalled reaction.
“Oh, hell naw. Get in that damn car and bust up. What are you waiting for?” Jazz screamed.
“I’ve gotta get one more bag, and then I’ll be straight to you.”
Running back in the house, Jazz warned me to be careful, and I took that as true friend love. Mike Mike was loud and sounded like he was regurgitating his internal organs. “He sounds bad, Jazz. I’m about to peek in on him.”
“You’re crazy—”
Ignoring her, I chose to look. Peeking in the room, I saw Mike Mike covered in sweat and some of his vomit. He looked weak, and something deep down inside made me feel powerful and wanting to cause him more harm.
“So, how does it feel, nigga? You over there in pain, and I don’t give a fuck. Payback is a bitch, huh?” I continued to mock him, getting tough and feeling myself.
“Fuck you. I’m gonna get your raggedy ass,” he managed to spit through his teeth.
“Naw, fuck you. This is for my damn jewelry I know you took and tried to blame on my girls, with your leaned-out ass.” I stood up on the bed and stomped him in the midsection. As he threw up in his mouth and began to choke, I could hear Jazz shout, asking what I had done. Mike Mike was busy sobbing and curled up in the fetal position. “All these years, you’ve been kicking my ass.” I smacked him upside the head a few times. It felt good to swing on him and have him too weak to fight back. I took my rage out on him like never before, kicking, punching, and trying to claw his skin away. Every battle his cowardly behind whipped my ass in . . . This brawl was to get back at him. “Yeah, boy, it’s payback time.”
He tried to shield himself from my vicious, brutal attack but was much too weak. “So, after all we been through, it’s like this?” He had tears in his eyes as if he thought this day of me being fed up with his bullshit antics and disrespect would never come.
I peered at him with contempt. Before leaving him forever, I left him with these words . . . “Nigga, I’d rather be dead than deal with you again on any fucking level.”
Once done with the second revengeful act—the first being robbing his stash and then my violent words and actions—I turned to walk out of the room and out of our tiny house full of beatings and lockdowns. Mike Mike was left facedown to suffocate. It was on him to roll over. At this point, I was washing my hands. I could care less about his well-being.
“Sable, are you okay?” Jazz questioned with much sincerity, shouting into the phone. “Please, tell me you’re out of there on your way here.”
“Yeah, I am, so be on the curb. We’ve gotta get up out of Detroit and fast. That tough asshole won’t die, I’m sure.” Running to the car, I had every intention of breaking every traffic law put into place.
“I’ve been looking out the window since we got off the phone last night. You can trust I’m more than ready, babes.” I could hear her grabbing keys in the background. Jazz meant business. “I’m about to call Roxy so she can cab it over to the airport. And, Sable, don’t worry about ole boy. Just get here so that we can fly up out of here on time.”
“Oh, I’m good. Just please, don’t tell Roxy what happened or what’s up. You know she’s got a habit of talking way too damn much. I don’t need the world to know about my whereabouts.” Jazz was always good with not running her mouth, but I needed extra reassurance.
“Oh, fa’sho. No doubt, my baby.” Jazz’s words were one hundred, and I knew my girl was real. In life, you don’t run across true loyal friends, so having Jazz was a blessing. “Loyalty is a must. I’m all about protecting you and my fam, so no worries, homegirl.”
“Real talk, I love you. And thanks for keeping it real about leaving Mike Mike and getting on.”
Even though life was dramatic right about now, I was grateful for her friendship and trusted she’d always be reliable. Hanging up, I tossed my phone into the cup holder and pushed my foot onto the gas pedal and coasted up Seven Mile toward the Lodge Freeway. Jazz had just moved into a refurbished apartment building in the Midtown area. Good thing it was right off I-94, a straight shot to Metro Airport. Panting and fighting to keep my sanity, my body shook from the adrenaline rush and fear from what just went down with Mike Mike. Even though I told Jazz I was cool, nothing inside of me was level. I’d just ripped off my only provider and left the only place I could call home. If burning bridges are wrong, I’d blazed them bitches to no repair with Mike Mike. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d have enough gall and courage to fight back or leave his black ass. We’d been down the majority of our life.
Rolling the windows down in an attempt to let the cool April breeze relax my nerves, I said a prayer to God for his protection and guidance. In a few short hours, I’d be landing on the sunny beaches of South Beach, and Mike Mike’s ass wouldn’t have the slightest clue. I was on edge and couldn’t wait to get to my girl.
Chapter Four
Sable
This thing I called life kept going from bad to worse. Airport security had been a total nightmare, and, of course, it probably hadn’t been a fluke as to why I’d been flagged, detained, and searched. Mike Mike had probably got up and phoned the goons. With life constantly throwing curve balls my way, it was easy for me to think the devil rode shotgun as my right-hand man. Clutching the empty black Nike duffel bag handle until my knuckles ached, I stared at the rubber-banded presidents scattered across the table. My beginning was someone else’s ending, and this white man had the power to determine my fate.
“What are you, a prostitute, stripper, or dope man’s girl?” the muscular, square-jawed officer questioned me. At every turn, some punk-ass man with a point to prove was holding me hostage.
“A stripper,” I lied, feeding into the simple tale. I had over fifty grand in one hundred-dollar bills trying to break out of Detroit and hadn’t planned a feasible explanation as to why. His improvised tale would have to do, ’cause I, for damn sure, wasn’t about to admit the bills had been washed clean.
“Is that so?” Rubbing his chin, nodding in my direction, I continued with my make-believe story, searching for a glint of sympathy.
“That money is my life savings, sir. I don’t have a family or anyone trustworthy to leave it with.” Even though I was putting on my best innocent-girl act, it would be foolish to think he’d have empathy for me and let me walk out of here with no repercussions. My right leg shook uncontrollably underneath the table, waiting for him to respond.
“Okay, well, we didn’t find a dancing license in your wallet, Sable, so you’re either illegally taking your clothes off for men, or you’re being untruthful to me. In either case, I must frown upon that.”
I cut my eyes at him and kept quiet. What more could I say that wouldn’t get me caught up? There was no way this Cracker-Jack fool was about to hold me back from having a chance at starting over or send me back to Mike Mike’s killer grip. The oversized circle wall clock mounted above the doorway ticked loudly as my mind raced, searching for a solution out of here. Something had to be done; a move had to be made.
“Look, man, what do you want from me? I ain’t did shit, and I don’t plan on being a threat to you or none of your passengers, so please, don’t make me miss my flight. What can I do? I know with you being such an esteemed law enforcement officer, you’d be willing to work with such a hardworking young lady like me,” I pleaded with the officer, laying it on thick. My words were nothing but made up bullshit, but with so much at stake, what other choice did I have?
“Well, as a matter-of-fact, there is a way we can work through this unfortunate situation.” Not only did sex sell, but it also would get you out of tough hold situations. Every man on earth was weak to what a woman possessed between her legs, and from the hunger in his eyes, this white man with a badge was no different. Running his finger across my cheek while leaning down into the nape of my neck, I jerked from his hot breath and the feel of his clammy, wet lips.
“Show me some of those moves that made you all of
that cash.” His nasty, perverted ass was trying to get frisky, making me believe I was never a threat all along.
I was never the regulator in my life. If there wasn’t one controlling dude putting my back against the wall, there was another. Black or white, fuck both types. I was tired of being misused by men for their own selfish needs. Not seeing another way but to cooperate, I stood up and swayed my hips, covering my face in shame and guilt. My tits jiggled and flopped around as the thin material of his security uniform pants rose to full attention. I prayed he wouldn’t force himself in me as he grabbed at his black leather belt, unfastening it. Refusing to let him see me sweat, I swallowed my nerves and continued to dance for him.
“Let me check you one more time, ma’am, just to make sure you’re clean and clear to fly per regulations of our airways.” Officer Taylor spoke up loudly so that anyone listening would think the search was official.
“I am—” making one last attempt to change his mind, he cut me off prematurely, not giving a fuck about my state of mind or pleads for him to stop.
“Keep it moving, trick. Hurry up and undress.” He lowered his voice, whispering, walking toward me with his pink prick hanging out. The sickening grin plastered from ear to ear on his face made my stomach bubble with repulsion.
It only took him two minutes, and then my clothes were back on. He couldn’t hang as long as I thought, with semen spilling over onto his hands and drawers. Boy, was I grateful for not having to taste or feel his sick-looking dick. I couldn’t help but wonder how many young girls he’d felt up while jacking his little palmful of a ding-a-ling empty and limp.
“Hopefully, you’ll be clean flying back from Miami.” Handing back my boarding pass and holding the door open for my exit, I knew he was referring to the sticky goo Mike Mike had left behind busting his nut in me earlier. But I simply had no time to get the coochie back right, trying to jump ship from Mike Mike. What nerve of this officer thinking his rapist ass deserved an Irish Spring fresh smell? Dudes were straight tripping, and that’s my word.
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