by Tiana Laveen
“I guess.” He shrugged. “Maybe I don’t fully get it, you might be right. I dunno.”
“Are she and your father okay now?”
“Yeah. When I returned to his place with some food for everyone later that night, Zina was cryin’ on his shoulder. She’s been with her husband so long, I know she’s not thinking clearly. I had to stop her from going back a couple of days ago. Not because she wanted to—she was just afraid he was going to do something, because he threatened to hurt himself if she didn’t return. Fuck him. They don’t have any kids or anything that ties them together. I know he’s gonna try to ask for alimony though. What a piece of shit.”
“Gutter, I told you this before, and I’m going to remind you. When someone is in an abusive relationship, their way of thinking changes. I’ve never been in a physically violent relationship, but I have dealt with a couple of men in the past who were mentally abusive and narcissistic. It’s the thinking of a person whose self-esteem has been stomped into the ground that causes them to act in an unhealthy way. I also thought it was insightful how you recognized her staying with this bum was fueled by her not wanting to leave the marriage, like your mother.”
He nodded.
“Promise, I mean, I’ve never been in a physically abusive relationship before, ya know? I don’t know how she thinks, and I’m not a woman, so there’s that part of this, too, like ya said. The thing is though, he’s gonna kill her if she goes back.” She took a deep breath and sighed. She couldn’t disagree with him. She’d seen this in her own family more than once. The end result was never good. “I know you said, and so did her friend, that there’s nothing I can do to stop her from going back, but Dad and I also told her that if she does, she’s putting us in a position where one of us will probably end up in prison because I’m not gonna stand back and let that motherfucker beat on my fuckin’ sister. And that’s that. Real talk.”
The man’s voice carried; his brows furrowed as he spoke. There was no telling how much pent-up rage was racing around inside her man from this incident. Gutter placed all of his instruments near a corner of the room, then raked his hand through his hair.
“I understand what you’re saying, baby. I know you love Zina so much. But a lot of times, women go back to their abuser, Gutter. I just want to warn you. Now, on the optimistic side, your sister has more going for her to help her not do that because she is gainfully employed and there are no children involved. Some women go back because they can’t make any money and have no support system, and children to take care of, so you’re right about Zina having the necessary things in place to help her succeed. But some of the tools she needs to be a survivor, baby, are mental.”
He stopped moving around and looked at her. Their eyes met, and sadness was written all over his face. “I want to be wrong, God knows I do, baby, but you must be realistic about this. It’s cool that you ran in there like Rambo, that’s fine, but you might have more disappointment coming your way.” She sat up and scratched her elbow, then yawned.
“I’m being realistic. Realistic is my middle name, so that’s why I reminded her that if she does some dumb shit like that, the consequences will affect everyone involved. He kept calling her and she finally blocked him without me havin’ to tell her. She told him that if he needed to relay any information, he could contact her lawyer. She finally told her doctor about the abuse too, and her boss. Promise, she admitted to me she’d been to the doctor twice because of him. He caused her to sprain her ankle one time trying to get away from him, and another time, he headbutted her. She had to get stitches. This was a few years ago… I never knew anything about it. She’d lied to the doctor at the time it occurred, tellin’ him a kid at school had accidentally done it. That seems to be her favorite excuse.” He sucked his teeth.
“Hold up now. That’s a big deal, Gutter! That’s progress! Being honest with people… So proud of her, especially since you said she’d been so quiet about it.”
“Yeah, so again, I’m not a woman and I’ve never been in her shoes, none of that, but I know my sister and how she thinks, battered brain or not. If I can just keep reminding her of who she is, and how many people would be crushed if she takes steps backwards, I think it’ll help. Sometimes people just need to be reminded they’re a fucking star, they’re important, and they don’t need anybody to drag them down.”
Promise nodded in understanding, but it almost seemed as if Gutter was talking about himself at that moment, too.
“Gutter, can I ask you something?” She propped her head up with her hand, her elbow pressing into the arm of the chair.
“Yeah.” He took a seat.
“How’d you feel that first time when you sat down and talked to your mother after you canceled your tour? Was it difficult?”
He shrugged, then yawned. Legs spread far apart, he looked up at the ceiling.
“Not difficult. Just… I guess, strange. I hadn’t seen her in such a long ass time. She looked different. She looked terrible. I shoulda felt sympathy for her, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel shit at all… but then over time I did care. My feelings about Jenny started to change.”
“When did they change?”
He scratched his beard and crossed his beefy arms.
“I don’t know the exact timeframe. They just did. It was a culmination of things.” She smiled softly. “A bunch of things happened like I told you before: the carjacking, a tragic exchange with a neighbor, some conversations with a friend of mine. You, coming into my life. Lots of stuff… shit like that, and I started to see her differently. Even the way I played music started to change a little.”
“How so?”
“I forced myself to feel the songs I had avoided singing for a while. I sang with intention.” He loudly exhaled. “There are two songs I haven’t performed in years because they were about her…”
Her chest warmed from his words. She understood what he said, and also what he didn’t dare say.
“I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay.” He sat up.
“Yeah, of course. Let me get you a towel and washcloth. There’s already soap in the bathroom.” She got to her feet and padded to her hall closet, him close behind. “Here you go, baby.”
He took the light blue towel and washcloth, kissed her once more, then disappeared into the lavatory. She surveyed the living room area and was pleased with how most of her guests had done a good job cleaning up after themselves, but there were still a few dessert cutting knives and cheese boards gifted by the catering crew lying around. She proceeded to wash the dishes as the faint sound of the shower and the drip drop noises of her faucet played a beautiful aquatic tune. And then, she heard him singing…
“…She’s my great-est, fantasy!”
She took a deep breath, and her face flushed. She caught her reflection in the sink faucet—all smiles.
This love song of his was about a man who had fallen in love with a woman he couldn’t have.
She finished up the dishes, made her way to her bedroom, and slipped into a pale pink camisole with matching wide-legged pants. As she lay in the bed, she turned on some music—‘At My Worst,’ by Pink Sweat$. She buried her head in the pillow, the whispery kisses of sleep teasing her. Just as she fell deeper into the cozy realm of slumber, the bathroom door opened and there emerged a beautiful creation of the Most High, wrapping himself in a towel as a cloud of steam framed him in hazy fog. His black beard glistened with water beads, and his eyes dazzled like dark diamonds. Muscles covered in ink, chest hair slick with moisture, he called to her desires.
Letting his towel drop to the floor, he got into the bed, beside her. Plush lips caressed her own, full of longing, an irresistible urge never satisfied. They slowly rolled about, his breathing loud and his touch urgent, demanding. Fingers gently tugged her hair as his long tongue slipped inside her mouth. To the melody of Mac DeMarco’s ‘Chamber of Reflection,’ he squeezed her breast, massaged her shoulder, cupped her neck, and deepened their love. He traced the
side of her face as they looked into each other’s eyes. He looked at her as if she were the best blessing in his life. His soft lips caressed her once more, and she sighed with relief when he rolled on top of her and nudged her thighs apart.
“I head to Maine in a couple of weeks for a show,” he said between kisses along her neck. “See if you can get off work that Friday and fly out with me. I’ll be back that Sunday night.”
“Really? You want me to go?”
“Hell yeah.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then zoned in on the sensitive curve of her neck once again. She shuddered from his touch, and then the thought of his big, heavy dick sliding along the back of her throat until she practically choked caused a flood between her legs.
“I dream about your dick…” She shimmied beneath him, breaking free, then forced him on his back. Kissing all over his chest, she slowly winded down his body. “I crave your dick… I love your dick…”
“He loves you too, baby. Sloppy top time… I hope you’re hungry. I’ve got a lotta love to give.”
“Baby, I’m famished.” She winked at him.
“I’m here for it.” He groaned in anticipation, slipping his arm behind his head as he bit on his lower lip.
Gliding the head into her mouth, she hummed, then slipped her tongue back and forth along the delicate flesh that stiffened against her oral embrace.
“Fuck… Oh God, baby… Don’t take this… don’t take this the wrong way but your mouth was made for my dick… DAMN… You give the best fuckin’ BJs in the world! SHIT!”
Massaging his shaft with each suck, she worked her way down the mammoth muscle, his hardness a thing of frightening beauty. Just when she had him where she wanted, she slipped out of her pants and mounted him. His eyes closed tight as she screamed and shuddered. The way he filled her up, inch by inch, was a delicious crime. Pressing her palms into his chest, she began to move her body up and down, riding him at a slow pace. His hips began to compress as he fucked her back, riding the wave.
“Did you… Ahhh… shit, you feel so good, baby… Did you get your birth control shot last week? Said you get it every three months, right?” he gasped.
“Of course. It’s taken care of.”
He gripped her waist and forced the last bit of him inside her, ushering a low moan from her very soul. She leaned forward, quaking when he curled his tongue along her taut nipple every time she lunged forward. Craving his lips, she brought her mouth to his. He snaked his hands around her, holding her safe, then bucked up and down as they kissed. Her body bounced to his ministrations. His guttural groans and hard fucking made her orgasm over and over again. The back-to-back climaxes rendered her limp, at his mercy.
“Mmmm! Ride that motherfucker, baby! Gimme this pussy… ALL OF IT. Fuck!” He palmed her ass with both hands, plunging into her so fast and hard, she could feel his presence deep within.
She came again, trembling as he pinned her down upon him. Tucking her face into the arc between his shoulder and neck, the softness of his beard tickled her skin as he ruthlessly took her. She rose up just enough to reach behind her and stroke his balls with a delicate touch. With a gentle squeeze, the man groaned and his back arched. She massaged his balls with a deft hand, going between the two large, manly globes, then fell upon him, sucking his neck and squeezing her pussy along his propelling length. Streams of her essence poured down his shaft and their bodies, slick with sweat, connected in more ways than one.
Lolling her head back, she slipped once more into the path of ecstasy, going into a head-on collision with an orgasm that rendered her speechless. As she came, he reached between their gyrating bodies and stroked her clit. Gutter kept on as tears flowed down her face from the non-stop climaxes. Her body was possessed by the big, fat dick inside of her. He rose up like a vampire from its coffin, intensity in his dark eyes, and sucked hard on her neck, then chased the sting with light kisses. Her climax gripped her over and over as he made love to her like no other. They claimed one another, shouting their pleasure as he released inside her in jerky thrusts. His liquescent heat filled her with each explosive pump.
Time disappeared like a thief in the night, for she had no recollection of falling asleep. When she awoke, the sun was shining, and he was snoring in her bed, gone to the world, a half-smile on his face while still halfway inside her. She had nowhere to go at that moment, so she stayed put, falling asleep again to the sound of his strong heartbeat—a hit record in and of itself. A number one song, platinum soul, and her spirit danced to it each time he exhaled…
…Several days later
As Promise got off the train and walked toward her apartment building, she felt the vibration of her phone from a missed call and checked the number. The sun was setting, there was a bite in the air, and most of the trees had no leaves.
I can’t believe he called me again…
It had been a long day and speaking to the likes of him was the last thing on her mind. She went on to deliberate on what frozen meal she’d be eating that night. Gutter was supposed to come by but had gotten busy. Some big-name brand clothing store had contacted him about a deal. He seemed fairly excited about it. Television, radio, podcasts, commercial ads, a big chunk of change, and free merchandise. The works.
About ten minutes away from home, her phone rang another time. The prison. Again.
Shit. What the hell does he want? Let me just answer it and get rid of him. If he asks for money, I’ll just say no and hang up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby. It’s your father. I ain’t spoke to you since last Christmas, I think.” He laughed, as if that was somehow funny. “I get out in a few months. I’m sure ya mama told you.”
“Yeah.” She approached the crosswalk and waited for the light to change, surrounded by several others.
“How you been?”
“Daddy, what do you want?”
“What you mean, ‘What do I want?’ I’m just calling to check in on you.”
The man had the audacity to have an attitude.
“For what? There’s always a motive with you, and nine times out of ten, that motive is to use somebody up then jump to the next lilypad like your name is Kermit the Frog.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You’re what’s wrong with me.” She started to cross the street, trying desperately to keep her voice down, but it was damn near impossible with all the noisy traffic around her.
“I don’t give a fuck how old you are, Promise. You don’t talk to me like that. You hear me? ‘What do you want?’” he mocked. “I want to talk to my damn daughter. That’s what I want.”
She finished crossing the street, moved out of the flow of walking traffic, and leaned against a bank building. She brought the phone close to her mouth so her words would be heard loud and clear.
“First of all, I will say whatever the hell I want to say to you.”
“Yo ass ain’t even—”
“I SAID WHAT I SAID! Mama might be scared of you; do everything you tell her to do. Jumping off a bridge will be the next request she fulfills, but I’m not one of yo’ hoes, bitches, doormats, skanks, lames, bimbos, whores, Miss Ann, ratchet hoodrats, or low-self-esteem-having girlfriends that cop you drugs, or send you money for Ramen noodles, honeybuns, and illegal cigarettes.”
“Promise, I don’t know what the hell is causing you to act like this, but I didn’t do it. You get mad when I call you and mad when I don’t. What the hell do you expect me to do?!”
“What you do best. Nothing at all.”
The man burst out laughing, clearly unamused and angry as hell. “If we were face to face, girl, you know damn well you wouldn’t have the nerve to speak to me like this.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t be speakin’ to you at all.”
“Look, shut up for a minute and let me speak. I need you to do something for me. Can you—”
“I knew it!”
“Fuck it, then. I gotta daughter who’s some angry Black fem
ale for no fuckin’ reason, just like most of y’all bitches, and a turncoat, snitch-ass simp of a son who became a cop, knowing I hate the police and all the shit they put me through. You and Westley are on some bullshit!”
“Well, at least we’re on something, right? Soon enough, all you’ll be on is on my nerves, the other end of an ankle monitor, and parole. Bye, Daddy. Don’t call me again.”
Disconnecting the call, she kept on walking…
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
If the Truth Be Known
“She tried to tell me that you did somethin’ stupid, then got mad when I told her that was what he deserved.”
Promise slammed the refrigerator door shut and placed her coffee creamer on the counter while her brother ranted and raved on speakerphone about his latest encounter with their mother. Once again, she was the topic of angst. Forever the black sheep.
“I don’t know why she takes this personally.” She shrugged. “It’s not like she doesn’t know how things were and how we feel. We’ve both been clear with her. He’s the one who crossed the line. She’s all but admitted he wasn’t a good father, but I think she just doesn’t want us to burn that bridge completely. In case we can repair what’s in the ashes.”
A lump filled her throat as a memory of her consoling her mother after finding out Daddy had gotten sent away yet another time. She’d been a mere child of eight then. “You know how mama is, Westley,” Grabbing a mug with Gutter’s name printed on it in white and gold letters, she poured the hot coffee into it, then added vanilla cream and sugar. She opened a kitchen drawer and removed a silver teaspoon which had been in the family for years. “She is so afraid of everything, never wanting to try anything new, but part of it is due to her own father dying when she was so young.”
