by Tiana Laveen
She reached up to grab a couple of glasses and pour the girls a beverage.
“Damn this cabinet! Shit!” She shrieked when the cupboard slammed against her finger. She shook the throbbing digit, jammed it in her mouth, and sucked the oozing blood. The all too familiar flavor of copper and iron flooded her taste buds. This was the third time in less than a week that such a thing had happened. She gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, closed her eyes, and tried to make her damn heart and mind stop racing.
“What’s wrong, Nita?” She jumped at the giant man’s voice. Once again, he’d crept upon her like a wolf on the prowl.
“Nothing.” She swallowed her pride, for she could hear Olive crying in the distance. Nita’s gut flipped, and she felt damn near sick to her stomach with worry. The truth cut her going down.
“You’re in here hollering. Something is definitely wrong. What the hell happened to your finger?” He drew closer, pointing to the reddened digit that pulsated in pain, the tip bubbling with a new spring of blood.
“This whole house is fallin’ apart, that’s what’s wrong!” She grabbed the faucet to bring a stronger stream of water and put her finger underneath. “I don’t have the money to pay for these repairs. Month after month, something new is added to the ever-growing list. I got a bum roof.” She pointed up ahead. “The whole kitchen needs remodeled and the main bathtub is a mess. I bought this house with my own money for me and my baby ’bout nine years ago. It wasn’t long before the money ran out, but it was all I could afford. I had gotten the back porch fixed, the windows winter-ready, the front door replaced, and the walls repainted. I was determined to put her in a clean home within close walking distance to school. I pay a lot of money now to get ’er to the good private high school. She’s been there for a little over a year… and I have Olive in there now, too. Tisha needed a filling, took care of that. Olive has to see a dermatologist, so I’m payin’ for that, too. She also needed a portfolio made because she is trying to be an actress. Those photos cost money.”
She hated how her voice shook. “I have been workin’ my ass off at work but when I get my check, Hunter, Uncle Sam gobbles it up and I ain’t got shit to show for it! And now my baby, ’cause yes, Olive is my baby, too, is in so much pain and I don’t know what to do about it! I can’t help her. I can’t find her mama; I can’t make her daddy stop dying… She got a vanishing father, right before her eyes, and I am sitting here, useless.
“How fair is that, huh?! Why is it so many rotten people have all the luck and then children like Olive get abandoned, mothers like me scramble around paycheck after paycheck, and it just keeps going on… The world keeps on spinning. I’m sick of this week, this month, this whole fucking year!” She ran her hand through her hair and turned to and fro, not certain what to do with herself. Her soul was on fire for she exploded like a firecracker. Nerves jumping, eyes wide, her very being bursting forth.
Hunter’s gaze bore into her, then he drew closer, and closer still until he could reach out and caress the side of her face. He spoke volumes with those eyes, urging her to purge, to let it all out… the pain she’d been holding inside for so very long.
“My boss has been an asshole this week, he’s stressed out and taking it out on everyone because rentals are down for the third month in a row, two people got fired, and I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s rest. I’m tired, Hunter… So. Damn. Tired.”
Her eyes welled with tears as she realized that not only was she having an outburst, she now had a full audience. She stepped away from him. Beyond the kitchen, Tisha and Olive were still hugging one another, their faces were coated in the chipped paint of worry as they stared at her. “I… I’m sorry, girls. It’s not like me to—”
“Mama, stop. It’s okay.” Tisha released Olive and draped herself around her now, instead. The girl’s warmth and love felt good against her frame. Her child was turning into a woman right before her eyes, and in that instant, she once again mourned the baby girl she used to know. Hunter moved towards the exit, deep in thought. It was almost as if he was watching for the next act of a lackluster show with her as the lead actress, perhaps hoping for things to improve. He slid his hand in his pocket and fiddled with his keys.
“I’ll be back in a little bit.” He put on his coat and left without an explanation, an ‘I’m sorry your life sucks,’ nothing.
“That man is… never mind.” Nita shook her head.
Olive’s lips curled in a smile.
“My father likes Hunter, Ms. Nita, the best outta all of his friends. My mother said my father doesn’t like anybody.” She shrugged. “But I guess she was wrong. I didn’t know what to think of him at first, but I like him. When he’s around, you smile more, too.”
The two girls cracked up as if they shared an inside joke Nita wasn’t privy to. Perhaps that was true – wouldn’t be the first time she suspected her girls of keeping secrets wrapped in a quilt of giggles. Do I smile more when he’s here? Probably.
“Is he your boyfriend yet?” Tisha placed her hand on her non-existent hip and rocked back and forth as if she were owed an answer.
“You need to stay outta grown folks business.” Nita opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Not because she was hungry or thirsty, but because she wanted to break the gaze lock with her daughter.
“Mama!” Tisha laughed. “Come on, we already know you two have been out again. I heard you on the phone.” She turned around and peered at the girl with narrowed eyes. The little heffa had been dipping in on her conversations again. Such was life.
“And what exactly do you think you heard?”
“I heard you say that he came up to yo’ job the other day and took you out to eat and that you two went to the movies the other night when Olive and I were at the bowling alley. You snuck off and returned home before we got back. You think you slick, Mama! We know you like Tyrant!” The girls burst out laughing once again, throwing each other all-knowing, secret-decoder looks.
“Tyrant? Since when have you two been calling that man Tyrant?”
Olive shrugged. “For a while now. He told us to. Said we could call him Hunter or Tyrant. Either would do.”
“Neither of you need to be callin’ that man that. It’s not appropriate.” She grabbed a can of grape soda, closed the refrigerator door, and grabbed a glass from the rack. “You two want something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” they both answered at the same time.
“He likes you a whole lot, I can tell. Do you like him, Mama?” The beverage fizzed and hissed as she poured the purple soda real slow. Lifting the glass to her mouth, she took small sips. When she drank, the liquid tickled her taste buds. Should she be honest, or dance around the truth? They’re children… not stupid. Some things were simply none of their business, but Olive in particular was quite fond of the man now, their daily text messages bringing a glint of joy and relief during the confusing time in her life.
“Yeah…” She smiled as she took another taste. “I like him.”
“I like him, too.” Tisha chirped. Then, in a blink, the two young women started a whole new conversation about some guy at their school who apparently had brought an exotic snake in his backpack one day. Its name was Doobie. All Nita could do was shake her head as the girls discussed that, thinking it was cool. They eventually walked upstairs, leaving her alone. She didn’t want to be on her own though, standing there like that, hearing her own heartbeat. Anxiety had become her new drug. She hated the prescription, but got it refilled just the same.
Deciding to clean up the dishes in the sink, she ran one side of the basin full of hot, soapy water then wrapped her finger with a bandage. She walked into the living room and turned on the television to a random station, then began washing the plates and silverware. Just as she was finishing up the last spoon, someone pounded at the front door.
She quickly dried off her hands, looked out the peephole, and spotted Hunter standing there holding a bright red toolbox. His ha
ir had grown out some and was now whipping about in the wind. He stared at the peephole, as if knowing she was there. His green eyes darkened, his lips were slightly downturned, and he looked angry… but of course, that was his natural expression.
When she swung the door open, he stepped inside, brushing past her to the kitchen. Thump, thump, thump went his footsteps, sounding like a one-man marching band. He proceeded to take several cabinet doors off the hinges, and then reassembled them, this time straight. When she asked what he was doing, he never responded. She was almost getting used to him doing that sort of thing. The rudeness of being ignored was his first language.
“It’s hot in here,” he mumbled, swiping a veil of sweat from his brow with his forearm. Before she knew it, the motherfucker was chucking his coat, gray hoodie, and T-shirt onto the floor in a big heap, ending up naked from the waist up. She’d felt how hard and well-built he was, but she’d never imagined all this lay beneath his clothing. She salivated and panted like a damn dog in heat. On one big, tanned and muscular arm showcased a tattooed sleeve of mostly black tribal type bands and art. On the other arm was a tattoo of a big wolf with red eyes along his shoulder. His back was covered in ink, too, but in the center was the main attraction – the word TYRANT in large black letters.
“How’d you get that name?”
He reached for a bolt out of the toolbox and continued working, sweat now covering his face.
“What name?”
“Tyrant.”
“A guy in my neighborhood called me that a long time ago. He said I was a born leader, did whatever the fuck I wanted. He had clout, so the name stuck. Everybody calls me that now.”
“Clout, huh?” She smirked. “Was he in a gang?” she teased.
He tossed her a brief glance over his shoulder. “Sorta.” She straightened up, surprised by his answer. He had her full attention now. “He was a member of the White Rabbit Radio and Gallows Tree Wotansvolk Alliance.”
“The what?”
The man clicked his tongue and inhaled, pausing for only a moment. “He was what I guess some people would call a White Supremacist.”
She found herself stepping back and leaning against the counter, pressing her ass into the edge and folding her arms across her chest.
“Where you a part of—”
“Nope. I was not nor was I ever a member of Gallows Tree Wotansvolk Alliance or any other such group.”
“But you were friends with someone that was? Why?”
“You can know somebody, Nita, even hang with someone every now and again but not agree with everything they do, say, and think, right?” He worked away, twisting and turning, his muscles tightening and relaxing. “You ever been friends wit’ a whore? Did that make you a whore, too?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Unless you believe in the whole rule of guilty by association… Ever have a friend who lied all the fuckin’ time? Made up stories to appear important? I have. You probably have, too. Were you then a pathological fraud just because someone you knew and maybe was on good terms with lied like they were getting paid for it?”
“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. It was a question. A logical one, if you ask me. Usually birds of a feather flock together is all. We don’t tend to hang out with people we’ve got nothin’ in common with.”
“Like you and me?” There was steel in his eyes as he turned her way, his neck craning in a slow, sort of creepy way before he broke the trance. Darkness seemed to reside within him, seeping out like black raindrops falling from billowy gray clouds. Tyrant was a man with deadly poison for blood. She could almost smell it in the air, or taste it against her tongue like the irony copper of a crushed finger weeping red for all to see. “Most of us have dealt with people who didn’t have the exact same beliefs as us… in one capacity or another. If not, maybe we’re the whore or liar. There’s at least one in every circle.”
All she could do was offer the fucker a tilted smile.
“If you want to call me a name, Hunter, do it, so I can cuss yo’ ass out and kick you out, too. But not before you finish the cabinets.” She chuckled, making light of a situation that had gotten far too heavy, way too fast. “Tyrant is an interesting nickname. Different from the usual ones I grew up hearing. Peaches, Ray-Ray, T-Bone, things like that.”
He shrugged.
“That’s all water under the bridge. Besides, I was a kid back then. Can you hand me that screw?” He pointed to the small metal object that had rolled away from him and threatened to topple to the floor. She grabbed it and placed it in his large palm. He continued to toil for the next few minutes, barely making a sound. Most would have needed at least a step stool, but Hunter simply stood like a mountain, his arms moving about and deep concentration on his face.
Damn… he is so sexy…
Her heart racing, she heard her daughter beating a path down the staircase. A sense of panic tinged in embarrassment came over her. Would her seedy thoughts be tapped into? Her thighs were warm as they held up a pair of saturated panties…
The sexual drought of two years, five months, and three days had taken its toll. The last romp in the hay she remembered had been with a man she’d dated for only a couple of months. What a total waste of time and disappointment he’d been.
“Mama!” Shaken out of her thoughts like a salt shaker held by a sodium addict, she focused on Tisha who donned a seedy, all-knowing grin. “Are you okay?” The girl chuckled, then turned her attention to Hunter who appeared to be oblivious to what was going on.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Don’t you, uh… have some homework to do?”
“Nope.” The girl rocked back on her heels sporting a big shit-eating grin. “But I see you got the books cracked wide open to the 5th chapter of, ‘Hunter Wolfe, hot damn!’”
Nita shooed Tisha away, telling her to go cleanup for supper and relay the same to Olive. The young lady laughed as she galloped up the steps, no doubt eager to spill the beans on how’d she caught her mother ogling the man who was ensuring the damn cabinet would no longer face assault charges. Hunter said nothing throughout all of the commotion, though she was certain he’d heard everything stated. Moments later, he picked up his toolbox and carefully placed everything back inside.
“Cabinets fixed. That’ll be fine for now. Sometime soon I can remodel ’em all together if you want, but that’ll buy you some time.” He gripped the toolbox and casually walked past her to the living room, picking up his clothing along the way.
“Thank you, Hunter. That was awfully nice of you.”
He slipped the clothing back on, then ruffled his hair.
“You said you had a problem. I’m trying to help you fix the parts I can.” He headed to the door to leave.
“Wait a minute, Hunter.” He stopped and turned, his brows bunched ever so slightly.
“Yeah?”
“I’m trying to get to know you… so I’m asking questions. I like you.” She smiled, though she tried to control how big it came across. “If you say something I find curious, then I’m going to ask you about it.”
“I know.” He reached for the doorknob.
“Wait a minute. Hold on. I want to settle this before you go.”
“There’s nothin’ to settle, Nita. We’re fine.”
“Are you angry about me asking about you and the guy who named you Tyrant? I hope not, Hunter. That’s why I guess… I guess I’m trying to explain because you seemed a little agitated and I don’t want you to leave here mad.”
“You asked a question and I answered.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t agitated or mad. You’d know if I was. There’d be no questioning it. See ya later.”
“One more thing. Isn’t your birthday November 3rd?”
“Yeah.” He smiled this time. “How’d you know?”
“Background check,” they said in unison.
“So, do you have plans? What would you like to do?” She leaned against the wall, crossing her ankles and arms.
“Some friends of m
ine are takin’ me to the casino that night.”
“Oh…”
“But, uh, maybe the next day, you and I could spend some time together.” He made his way back over to her.
“Yeah, we can do that.” Her heart raced. “So, what would you like for your birthday? Don’t let my outburst earlier scare you. I can swing a gift or two, within reason of course.” She grinned up at him, feeling good. Looking forward to spending more time with him.
Lifting her chin, he looked into her eyes.
“What I want doesn’t cost you a thing. But it costs you everything you have, too.”
“Sounds like a riddle.”
“It’s not hard to solve. I want something that’s free, but you think is invaluable. If you give it to me, I’ll get to see for myself.” He bit into his lower lip and she stopped breathing. Backing her into the wall, he pressed her flush against it. Their gazes locked. “Are you gonna finally give me some dessert, baby? Birthday cake?” He chuckled in that vibrating, deep, raspy voice. “A cut of coochie cake for the birthday boy?” His eyes gleamed and darkened like a shark. She laughed lightly, feeling a warm flush start from her head and flow to her toes, then looked away, shaking free from his grip. “Hmmm? You asked what I wanted for my birthday…”
“I did.” He trailed his lips dawdling up and down her neck, then deposited the toolbox on the floor.
“Well shit, Nita, you already know what I want. I want you, baby. Wrap yourself up in a bow.” She beamed, gaze lowered to the floor and shielding herself for a moment before hooking his gaze once again. “I wanna fuck the life and death outta you, baby. I want you to feel me go so deep inside you that when I finish with you, when it’s all said and done… I take a piece of your soul with me.” She shuddered when he jammed his big, hard hand between her legs and cupped her pussy, running his fingers back and forth against the crotch of her leggings. “Warm… fresh out the oven. You’re wet, baby… all this for me, huh? Rivers, lakes, and oceans don’t have shit on you…”
