by Desirée
“He’s parked at my house, but he isn’t in the car.”
“Bitch, that nigga might be in yo’ house while you playing. Did you leave yo’ doors unlocked?”
“No, I would never do that,” I said slowly, looking down the street in both directions before looking at the house. It was getting dark, and I just . . . ugh. This was like the weekend from hell. It really was. My birthday was so wonderful, so amazing, only to fall on the worst weekend imaginable. “Can you stay on the phone with me?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” she said. “Girl, he probably just sitting in yo’ living room with flowers and a fake-ass wedding ring, ready to marry yo’ scary behind.”
“And you don’t think that’s weird that he’s even in my house in the first fucking place, Layla?” I snapped as I walked up the steps, looking for my keys. I ignored her laughter as I glanced at my door and the lack of a door knob. My shit was wide open!
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “I’m about to call the police. I can’t do this.”
“Wait, don’t—”
I hung up as I pulled my door back gently and stepped inside my house, almost scared to blink for fear of missing something. Looking around, I saw nothing was out of place. Everything was how I’d left it. There was no trace of someone being there, but I did hear music—soft Erykah Badu playing from my room. I didn’t leave anything on in this house. No radio, no music, and on Sundays, I only listened to Gospel, so I knew somebody was in there.
The kitchen light was on. I crept toward it, but it looked like . . . exactly how I’d left it. I grabbed a frying pan, unhooked my earrings off, and laced up my shoes tighter. If this wasn’t Michael, this mothafucka had another thing coming. If it was Michael, then he had about five seconds to explain what the fuck his problem was.
Walking to my room with my heart beating loudly, I lightly pushed my room door open, seeing no one, just the music being played. What the fuck? I looked around as I stepped farther into the room, and I nearly screamed when I felt hands come down on my shoulders.
“Surprise!”
I turned around, horrified to see Michael, smiling at me, in a plain V-neck graphic T-shirt, jeans, and some Timberland boots. His chocolate face was glowing with that smooth, low haircut.
“What the fuck are you—”
“Don’t be mad, Noelle!” he quickly let out, handing me a bunch of roses. “I thought I would come by and surprise you.”
I dropped the pan, gripping my chest, trying to calm my heart down. I was ready for battle; I swear I was.
“How did you even get in my house, Michael?” I snatched the roses from him and tossed them on the bed. I wanted answers, and I wanted him to leave before I called the cops. This was way beyond crossing the line.
He just smiled, licking his lips at me. “I was calling, but I see your boyfriend made you block my number, so—”
“I blocked your number, Michael! You can’t keep—”
“I’m not finished,” he said, cutting me off. “I came by, and I saw your door was fucked up, so I decided just to stay until you got here, to make sure no one would come in. I was going to explain everything to yo’ boyfriend. Come on. I wanted to see you since I didn’t see you at church today.”
“I didn’t go, and I’m not going there anymore.” My hands were still shaking as I cut the music off. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I buried my face in my hands, tired, stressed, and just beyond scared out of my mind. All I could hear was Aunt Alice saying, “Something ain’t right with that man.” Well, yeah, now I know.
“Is everything okay?” he asked softly, sitting down next to me on the bed, hand coming to my shoulder. I quickly got up, backing away from his touch as I looked at him.
“Michael, you need to leave,” I said in a low voice, letting him know I was serious. “This is beyond invasion of privacy, and I’m trying real hard to keep the peace.”
“Noelle, calm down,” he said, walking toward me as I backed up against the wall, shaking my head as my body tensed up. “I’m not going to do anything to—”
“Get out, Michael! I’m serious! It’s not funny anymore. It’s not cute. I will never fucking like you, even if I wasn’t with Shiloh! I told you this!”
He tilted his head to the side in a sadistic kind of manner, smiling as he looked me over, licking his lips. “You’re just saying that, Noe,” he said.
My eyes grew wide. Nobody called me Noe except for Shiloh. Nobody knew he called me that, because if anyone outside of Shiloh called me that, I was quick to correct them.
“Don’t call me that!” I let out a scream as he came at me, grabbing me by the waist, trying to kiss me, gripping my body tight.
I tried pushing his forehead back. Grabbing both my hands, he held them behind me as he came for my neck. I was screaming out as loud as I could, trying to knee him where it counts.
“I just want to taste you one time. I’ve been wanting you since I first—”
“Let go!” I screamed, feeling him pull my sweats down along with my panties.
Fuck no, not today. You got the wrong one on the right day. I started clawing at his face, screaming and spitting, while moving my legs to keep him from getting hold of me. Then I heard the voice of my savior walking in that front door.
“Hellooooo, Noelle!” Tyree sang, and I started screaming for help. Michael immediately let go.
Tyree rushed to my room, tote in hand, eyes wide in horror. “Nah, nigga! Get the fuck on! Not my bitch!” Tyree screamed in his signature high, dramatic voice. He slammed his bag on Michael, who laughed.
“What you gon’ do, punk ass? Huh?” Michael pressed, stepping to Tyree, who didn’t back down. He just cocked his head before tossing his bag on the bed.
“What’s good?” Tyree said, voice dropping low as they sized each other up.
I slowly reached down for my frying pan, aiming it like I was in the game, ready to hit at any moment.
Michael’s eyes were bloodshot red with rage as he looked at the two of us, smirking. He knew he couldn’t take us both on. Tyree was a big man, and this frying pan was pure iron. Try it if you want to.
“I’m coming back to get what’s mine, Noe,” Michael said, blowing a kiss at me before walking out, pulling his pants up. “You’ll be mine, baby! We belong together, shawty!” he let out, vernacular changing completely. There was no uppity white boy tone in his voice. He went straight hood on me in a matter of seconds, and he sounded comfortable with it, like it was natural.
Tyree rushed to the living room to look out the window, making sure he pulled off, while I stayed near the door of my room.
“Girl!” he let out, looking back at me with a smile. “Is that the nigga that gave you the plastic necklace? Damn! You got niggas going crazy over yo’ ass! You need to tell Shiloh what the fuck just—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off with a shake of my head. I wiped my eyes and face. “I’m not trying to bother him with this shit. We took care of it.”
“But he—”
“He got a lot going on right now with his brother, Tyree. Just keep this between you and me and the Lord,” I said.
He nodded slowly before coming to me with open arms, hugging me. “Did you let him in the house?” he asked as I looked up at him.
“This man broke into my house. You see my door knob?” I flipped as Tyree laughed.
“Gurl, you and these Atlanta men. Ain’t no telling how he would have reacted once he got inside them chocolate walls, boo.”
“Eww, Tyree,” I said, moving him back as he laughed. “Anyway, I came here to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. I couldn’t sit in that depressing-ass hospital any longer.”
“We can go.” I sighed.
I wasn’t used to men like this. At any point in time did I ever lead Michael on? Did I put myself in this situation? I just . . . I needed to go home. I needed a break from this city, from these people, from this lifestyle. Shiloh was no better. It was like dating violence himself. Even though h
e never put a hand on me, being with him caused me so much stress in my life. I just wanted to go home.
* * *
When I got home, I was feeling a little bit better about today. I had my takeout food in hand, ready for a good book and then a night’s rest for work in the morning. The weekend was finally over, and I just wanted Monday to hurry up and come. I needed a normal day, please.
Walking up the steps as I waved bye to Tyree, I came to the front door and noticed that it was cracked open again. I dropped my head in defeat. Pure defeat.
What the fuck! We just went to fucking Wal Mart to fix this shit.
“I can’t do keep doing this shit,” I mumbled, swinging the door open in anger. I looked around, seeing no one. Putting the food down, I walked back to my room and saw Shiloh sitting on the bed in deep thought. I let out a sigh.
“You ever heard of waiting until I fucking get back home?” I snapped.
He looked at me, expression colder than usual. He sat in his sweats and hoodie, eyes falling hard on me as if he was trying to read me.
“What’s the problem, Shiloh?” I asked with a sigh.
“Where’s my money?” he asked casually.
My eyes grew wide, looking at the closet where he’d told me he was going to keep some money for safekeeping. He’d specifically told me not to touch it. I had honestly forgotten it was there until now.
“What are you talking about, Shiloh? Shouldn’t it be in the closet some—”
“It’s not fucking there,” he snapped, standing up as he eyed me hard. “Again, where the fuck is my money, Noe?”
“I don’t have it! I didn’t touch your money! I forgot it was even—”
“You ain’t forget shit,” he spat, walking back to the closet.
I followed him, watching as he tore through it like a tornado. Brand new dresses, shoes—everything was out of place and on the floor.
“Oooh, baby girl,” he sang slowly as my heart started to beat faster. “We got a problem, queen.”
I instantly thought about Michael being here in this house alone while we were at the hospital.
“Michael was here!” I blurted out. “He was here when we were at the hospital.”
Shiloh cut his eyes to me before continuing to go through the closet, ripping apart brand-new shoe boxes with the heels falling out.
“I’m serious, Shiloh!”
“Three things I told you I don’t play about, Noelle.”
“I’m not lying! He came here! I had to fight him off of me! Shiloh, I’m not—”
“Three things! My money, my loyalty, and my family! Two out of three has been fucked over!”
“I didn’t touch it!” I cried, feeling like a little girl. “I swear I didn’t touch your money, Shiloh! Michael was—”
He grabbed me by the shoulders, slamming me hard against the wall. His eyes were soulless as he looked at me, not an ounce of love in his expression.
“Last time a bitch took money from me,” he started.
My eyes grew wide as my mind flashed back to everything that had happened to me: the gun in my face, Aunt Alice’s house, Michael, and now this. I couldn’t keep leaving myself open to this bullshit.
I felt myself just sort of snap. Pushing him back, finding the courage to stand up to a man I thought I loved, I went in my purse, pulling out all the money I had.
“Here! Take yo’ fucking money and get the fuck out!” I screamed, throwing change at him as he tried to block his face. “I’m sick of this fucking city! I’m sick of the crazy-ass men I seem to attract! I’m sick of people taking my kindness for weakness, wanting to take advantage. You know I wouldn’t steal from you!” I cried.
He said nothing, just stood there, eyeing me hard as I threw my purse at him, hoping to hit his face.
“Get out!”
“Where’s my money?”
“I don’t have yo’ stupid-ass money, Shiloh! If you’re going to kill me or shoot me, do so now, because I’m done! I give up! I gave you so many damn chances! All the shit you put me through—yo’ crazy-ass family, yo’ brothers! You can have it, because I want nothing to do with it or you! Go!” I pointed to the door.
He grabbed his phone and walked out, with me following behind him.
“If my money don’t turn up in three days—”
“Then what, nigga?” I snapped, cutting him off.
He turned to look at me.
“What? You gonna flash your gun at me, thinking I’m going to be scared? I’m right with the Lord. I know where the fuck I’m going once you do it, so please!” I begged with a laugh and clap of my hands. His eyes grew wide. I stepped up to him closer, showing no fear, my blank face matching his shocked expression. “Do it! Point the fucking gun at me, nigga. You so quick to whip it out on everyone, so easily placing fear into everyone’s heart. Well, I’m not afraid of you! I laid with you. I gave you the closest thing to me! I—”
Feeling like I was about to choke up, I told myself, Not now, bitch. Don’t do it in front of him.
“I’m not afraid of you, Shiloh Cameron Carter, and never will I ever be again. So, if you want to keep threatening me about money, end this shit now and kill me,” I said.
He backed up, almost looking scared himself. No words. He just turned and walked out of the house, never looking back as I slammed the door shut.
I’m getting the fuck out of here by Tuesday. I’m sick of this place.
Taylor
“How you feel?” I asked Trent, who sat up in the hospital bed. It was a Wednesday afternoon, a few days before his big party, which I didn’t think he would be able to go to. He was still trying to recover, but he was showing great progress. I took off from work and remained a constant by his side. The only time I went home was to bring a change of clothes, food, drinks, and shit to clean myself with. I was not leaving this nigga’s bed for nothing until he was healed.
We sat in the room, with me sitting on the chair next to the bed, while he sat up, flipping through the channels, looking sexy even while bandaged up. He sat strong, with his beard starting to grow in from lack of shaving. Diamond studs in each ear, his hazel eyes glistened as he looked at me with a flirty smile. He was still the same charismatic nigga like before. He had I don’t know how many girls handing him cards, balloons, and teddy bears, but best believe I collected that shit. I kept it off to the side so he wouldn’t be distracted by it.
“I feel a little better than last night,” he said, cutting the TV off as he leaned back on the bed, left shoulder wrapped up. He was shot in the upper, middle, and lower half of his body, and he still managed to live. I kept telling him how blessed he was, because that doesn’t happen often. All it takes is one shot.
“You good? I know you gotta get ready to go soon,” he said.
I shook my head. I was sitting comfortably in my jeans, cute flats, red sweater with pearls around my neck, and my hair in a poof-ball ponytail. I wore little to no makeup. I wasn’t going to look like a bum by his side. Fuck no.
“I’m off for a week, so I don’t go back until next Monday,” I told him with a smile.
“You don’t have to do this, though, Tay,” he mumbled, looking hard at me.
“I want to, Trent. Regardless of how we ended up, I’m still going to be there for you till the end,” I stated, hoping he could see me staying by his side was dedication and proof that I was the one for him. His brothers were out of town but would check in every couple of hours to see what was up.
“So, what you tryna watch tonight, shawty? I don’t see nothing on,” he said, flipping the TV back on as I went through my phone, looking through the TV Guide app.
“They got a lot of Disney movies playing. A lot of Christmas movies are coming on tonight,” I told him.
He laughed. “You think they got porn?”
“Nigga, now is not the time!” I said, and we both laughed.
“Shit, I can still get hard and still manage a stroke or two,” he said, trying to move his hips before wincin
g in pain. “See?”
“You need to stop before you hurt yourself.” I giggled, standing up to check his bandaged ribcage, making sure no blood was seeping through his wound, or that he didn’t rip his stitches. Feeling his hand come to my waist as I looked him over, I smiled.
“Thank you, Tay,” he mumbled as we looked at each other.
Without hesitation, I leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. I thought he would pull away, but he just deepened the kiss. I moaned, pulling away gently as our eyes locked. I still felt that spark, and I knew he did too. He had to.
“Damn, you trying to fuck with a nigga while he’s down, knowing I can’t respond right now,” he groaned, and I laughed.
“I’ll be there when my nigga gets back up,” I said with a wink before heading to the main door. “I’m about to get me something to drink from the machine. I’ll be back.”
“A’ight,” he said.
I walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. I felt so . . . so elated at the thought of us being together. There was no other man I could see myself with. Shit, I got so happy, I wasn’t even watching where I was going. I nearly bumped into this dark-skin girl with a bag in her hand.
“My bad, yo,” she said coolly.
“You’re good,” I responded with a smile before I kept moving down the hall, all smiles. I had the nigga of my dreams. He was all I ever wanted.
Jade
“My bad, yo,” I told this light-skin girl, accidentally bumping into her in the hospital hallway. She smiled. That was something these Southerners had me doing every time I saw someone now.
“You’re good,” she said as we continued in opposite directions.
I was looking for Trent’s room, checking the number on each door. I let out a sigh, hoping I was ready to see him in this state, because I didn’t know what to expect. I had gotten the phone call that Trent had been shot, and I came straight back down to Atlanta a few weeks before my scheduled time. I didn’t even notice the Facebook status he’d made until after the fact.
Flipping my dark brown locs off my shoulders, with my bracelets jingling loudly, I let out another sigh before opening the door.
