by Tiana Laveen
“A man, chill,” someone said.
“Why you lookin’ pissed?! You can’t turn a ho into a housewife, but I feel you on wanting that shit. You rich White mothafuckas love getting some Black ass, don’t you? Becky can’t do it like Quanisha, right? You never had it so good. I hope you can handle all that ass. Tell me, Gutter, just between me and you,” the man’s reddened eyes sported a sleazy gleam, “What’s the pussy like? I bet you could drive a Mack truck up in that thang!”
BOOM!
“Ahhhh! Get off me, man!”
Gutter slammed the bastard up against the wall, over and over as one would while trying to make a piece of paper stick to the fucking surface.
“SHIT!” someone roared.
Rage burnt him to the core. The unleashed beast had leapt from his body and was taking over. Someone just might die that night.
“GUTTER! YO, you gonna kill him, man!”
Perhaps blood was spilling. Who knew? Nothing around him mattered. No one mattered. Nothing was real. His hands kept ringing, hitting, punching, dragging, slamming…
“Shit! What tha fuck y’all doin’?! DO SOMETHING! I can’t get this big mothafucka off him by myself! Don’t just stand there! Help me, man!” a voice he didn’t care to recognize hollered, and it wasn’t long before a number of hands wrapped around his muscles and tugged him with force, dragging him away. The man coughed and spit blood on the floor, the color drained from his face. No one said anything. There was no music. No laughter. No tears. Just silence.
“That’s mad disrespectful! That’s his woman, man! I told you to drop that shit! He didn’t know!” Focus yelled.
Gutter’s heart beating maddeningly inside him, he stormed out the door, letting it shut hard behind him.
“Gutter… GUTTER!”
He kept on moving.
“GUTTER.”
“What?!” He spun around, fists clenched. Focus and another guy, an up-and-coming rapper, approached him. Focus broke away from the young man and came closer, his hands clasped.
“Listen, man… you’re surprised. I get it,” he stated calmly. “I wasn’t tryna do you greasy by bringing it up. I thought you knew. I thought you were just playin’ with me. That’s the kind of thing that would make some of us actually want to date someone like that.”
Gutter shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. Anywhere but at Focus.
“Now it all makes sense.” He laughed dismally. “Strange comments on Instagram and Tik Tok… other comments talking about how lucky I was… but it was a lot of ’em. Too many. It’s social media.” He shrugged. “I just figured people were being weird again.”
“Gutter, if it’s any consolation, it was just a local thing.”
“What are you talking about? You said she was a porn star, and I saw some of the pics that came up after you typed in her pseudonym.”
“Nah, I mean, yes, she was the shit, but this was an insular thing, man. You still don’t get it. Okay, check it.” He waved his finger about as if about to start a game of Charades. “Remember the bootleg local porn that was big back some years ago? Before Pornhub and all that shit blew up?” Gutter gave him a blank stare. No, it wasn’t Focus’ fault how everything had hit the fan, but he didn’t feel like talking. Listening was hard enough. “Well, anyway, an old head from about nine or ten years ago, I forget what his name was, would get some of the baddest bi—I mean, the baddest chicks, and they’d do these lil flicks, naw-mean? Girls from the BK. He had a photography and videography studio around the way and would sell the movies online and on DVD. Old school, right? And it was just Brooklyn and Manhattan, mainly, I think. That’s why I said it was local. It was like our underground thang, and some guys paid like a membership fee. There was something, I don’t know, sexy I guess you could say about seein’ a girl from your hood on the screen like that. The memory is a little fuzzy for me… long time ago, but I remember her face because she was unique looking. Different. A lot of guys liked her. She had a special energy, too. I know that sounds weird ’cause we’re talking about pussy and ass, but I’m serious.”
Gutter knew exactly what he was talking about. Promise had something special that many other women didn’t possess. It was the way she spoke, moved, carried herself. Her intelligence, her sense of humor, the way she even batted her lashes. The combination of her features—big, beautiful dark brown eyes, full lips, pronounced cheekbones, and naturally arched brows. Even her imperfections—the scars, moles, and freckles—contributed to her gorgeousness. One had to do a double take when she passed by. She wasn’t like a model; she was even better. Unconventional beauty. Her style of clothing, often vintage with a bit of contemporary flare, furthered the charm. And to add, her sensual voice, her fucking presence in his life. She brought exploding colors to the darkest places. She made him feel alive in a way he never dreamed possible. She was captivating without even trying.
She was also an incredible liar who had ripped his heart to shreds.
“Like, all the hood guys knew who the girls were, Gutter, ya know? We couldn’t get these women back then because we were broke. The same girls who paid us dust.” Focus laughed. “But we could dream and pretend, right? With the help of the bootleg movies, we were able to have them—only in our minds, of course. Nothing I say is making this better, is it?”
Gutter shook his head. “I’m sorry I asked.”
The thumping of music drifted from the studio. Business was going on as usual inside. For him, however, time was standing still.
“Look, I don’t know your woman, Gutter. That movie shit was all make-believe. None of that shit was real. I don’t know her story, why she did it, none of that, and I’m not judging her because life comes at us fast, but I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
“Yeah, me too. I have to go. I can’t work tonight. No way I’m going to be able to concentrate. I’ll be back tomorrow though. Tell Terry I’ll catch him later.”
Focus nodded, and they turned away from each other at the same time. Gutter got in his truck and took a few deep breaths. It was hard to fucking breathe. After a while, he pulled out his phone and saw many missed calls, including two from Promise. When he saw her name on that screen, profound sorrow filled him like he’d never known. Flashes of the way she’d make love to him played in his head over and over.
He’d been with more women than he could count, and yet, the way she kissed him, touched him, fucked him stood out amongst all the others. He’d told her as much. She would make him cum over and over from her head game alone, and he craved her intellectually, sexually, spiritually, emotionally.
And I thought I was going to marry this woman. Even looked at rings and was thinking about popping’ the question soon. I feel like a fucking fool… Sadness consumed him, and he drowned in it. Gripping the steering wheel, he hung his head. It felt heavy, like substantial fruit on a reedy vine. He could barely pull himself together. Make his legs and arms move. When he tried to figure it out in his mind, the reality of the situation, he froze.
How could she do this to me? I thought we could talk about anything. Apparently… not THIS.
He played her voicemail, mumbling a few curses as he deleted it, then tossed his phone on the passenger seat and took off home…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chicken Sandwich Comes Home to Roost
A few hours later…
“But that’s just the thing, I can’t get a hold of him. He told me he was going to the studio tonight, then coming by to see me, but I’m sure that studio time ended hours ago,” Promise explained to Aria. “It’s not like him. I told him I needed to speak to him, too. That it was important. This is so strange.”
“Speak to him about what?” Aria yawned, no doubt ready to fall back to sleep. She wished she could get some shuteye herself. “Maybe you scared him with all the ‘serious talk’ stuff. He probably thinks you want to bring up moving in together or getting married.”
“Aria, that’s not what I wanted to discuss. My
private conversations with him have no relevance to this particular conversation. Why can’t you stay focused?!” Frustration reared its head.
“Well shit, if he was supposed to come over there, and you said speaking to him was so important, don’t blame me for being curious as to why. Private conversations… What are you? ADT home security now? Girl, relax. He probably was in there real late and went home to rest. Like what normal people do right about now. Hint hint. Why are you so jumpy tonight? Go to bed!”
“I’m not jumpy. Just worried.” She could feel a headache coming on.
“Are you constipated again? You know how you get when you’re all backed up. Eat some fiber.”
“Aria, bye. Go back to sleep. You’ve been useless. Damn.”
Promise dismissed herself from the phone call and hung up. She glanced at the time. It was nearly four in the morning. She had to be at work by nine. She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.
Even when he can’t talk to me, he always texts back.
Picking up her phone, she arranged an Uber ride to his place. Something just doesn’t feel right… Putting on a mint green jogging suit sweater and matching pants, and white Puma sneakers, she grabbed her phone, jacket, and purse, and headed out the door. Half an hour, two more unanswered calls, and various text messages later, she found herself speaking to the Hispanic doorman. She now knew his name was Raul, and she’d seen him so many times they were now on a first name basis. She forced a smile, gathering her wits about her.
“Hello, Promise,” he greeted cheerfully. “Awfully early for you to be here.”
“Raul, do you ever take time off? No matter what time of day or night I come, you’re here,” she teased.
“I take days off, but I do work a lot. I enjoy it.” She nodded in understanding. Without a need to explain, he slid his phone out of his pocket as he always did and called Gutter’s line. She waited in anticipation, certain that he, too, wouldn’t get an answer.
Her heart sank when he did.
“Hello, Mr. Rayden. Your lady love, Promise Bradford, is here to see you… Mmmm hmmm… Okay…Yes, I see… Yes… I will tell her… You too, thank you…”
“Ms. Bradford, Zake said he wasn’t expecting you, but you can come inside. Right this way.” She followed Raul inside, through the lobby and to the elevator. They said their goodbyes and she went up to his floor, heading down the hall as she’d done many times before. A sense of dread washed over her as she kept her pace slow. Her limbs felt heavy, as though covered in wet cement.
At last, she reached his door and rang the bell. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, he opened the door, clad in a long black robe and pajama pants. With his tattooed chest exposed, he looked beautiful. He didn’t say anything for the longest time. He just stared at her, practically through her, as if she were invisible.
“Come in,” he finally uttered, a grim expression on his face as he locked the door behind her.
She placed her purse down on his hall table.
“Hey, what’s up? I’ve been trying to reach you.” Her heels crushed the invisible eggshells.
“Yup. I know.” He made his way into his large kitchen and retrieved a bottle of red wine from the refrigerator as ‘Space Song,’ by Beach House played on low.
“Are you okay? You’re acting strange.”
“I need something to drink. I need an entire cellar right about now.” He snatched a glass out of a cabinet and set it down on the counter.
“Isn’t it kind of late, well, early to drink?”
“I don’t know, Maddison St. Claire. Is it?”
Every bone inside her body turned to mush and her legs buckled. Pulling the cork out the flask, he ignored the glass and drank from the bottle. His eyes darkened as he watched her. She leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy.
“Gutter, I was going to tell you,” she managed to squeak out.
“Really?” He laughed, the sound, a dark, malicious chuckle. The kind that stuck with you long after you heard it. “You had a million and one chances to tell me this shit. Weeks! Months! I poured my fuckin’ heart out to you, multiple times. I told you shit nobody else knows, and you kept some shit like this from me. Fuck outta here.”
Neither said anything for a long while. He kept drinking. She kept crying inside. How long before the dam broke, and her pain burst through, flooding everywhere and soaking them to the core?
“Zake, I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s not something… it’s not something you just tell everyone. I know you can understand that! I was wrong to not tell you, regardless. I know that. I kept putting it off because I figured we weren’t officially together for a while, so why risk that? Then everything changed. I fell in love with you, but it was too late. I was in too deep. I knew things had gone too far. I didn’t know what to do!” Her nerves frayed, tattered on the ends, draped in layers of despair. She stood at Fate’s door, begging for a lenient punishment. “I don’t tell everyone I’ve dated about this. It—”
“You keep saying everyone. I’m not everyone!” He slammed the now empty bottle onto the counter, making her jump. It was a wonder it didn’t shatter. “Do you have any idea what people can try to do with this type of information? Opportunists, haters, bitter exes, and so many more could have a field day. I found out at the studio, of all places. My place of business. Got into a fuckin’ fight over this shit! I’ve been told the situation is going to be kept under wraps, but who the hell knows? You sure can’t trust anyone nowadays… can you, Promise?” He sucked his teeth and snarled at her.
She felt two inches tall.
“Please, let me explain, Gutter.”
“There isn’t shit you can say to me.” He threw up his hands and took a step back—as if she had a contagious disease that could spread from the mere sight of her. “I’ve been totally blindsided. You made me look like a fool!”
“I was afraid to tell you! Look, Gutter, this isn’t recent. It was a long time ago, so I was hoping it didn’t matter anymore because—”
“I don’t give a shit if it happened five hundred fuckin’ years ago, B.C. That’s not something you hide from someone you supposedly love.”
“I do love you! That’s why I was scared to tell you.”
“You don’t love me. You don’t give uh shit about me.” He grabbed the bottle from the counter as if he hated it, too, and tried to catch the few remaining drops in it.
“I do love you, Zake.” A tear streamed down her cheek, then another. She took a step towards him, but the look in his eyes let her know to pause.
“You know everything about me, Promise. I don’t have any secrets squirreled away from you. Including the shit I find humiliating, stuff I didn’t want to disclose from years ago. I felt like you had the right to know it because we’re together, and you should have all the information—the full picture, even if I am not the same man I was back then. I can’t pin what I did on anyone else. I took ownership of it all, and I was truthful. I never wanted to take the chance of you hearing any of those things from someone else. You got it right from the horse’s mouth. To tell all of my business like that is so outta the norm for me, that’s not my style, but I trusted you. Biggest mistake of my life.”
Her eyes itched, and her stomach knotted. The look in his eyes was nothing short of pure hatred.
“I just can’t believe this.” He waved the bottle around as he looked her up and down. “Told you everything. My criminal record, my issues at home, even how depressed I was after one of my good friends died twelve years ago. Full of self-blame during one of the darkest periods of my life. My songwriting reflected my pain. I even mentioned the time I had taken some pills when I was fourteen, because of my mother…” His chin trembled. “Nobody but you knows it wasn’t an accident. I really tried to take myself outta here. Fourteen fuckin’ years old and wanting to die.” She sniffed, her runny nose now getting the better of her. “But all you could do this entire time was lie to me.”
He shook his head, then leaned ag
ainst the kitchen counter, staring at the floor.
“Zake, I didn’t lie to you. I was—”
“Omission of the truth is still a lie, so don’t play these silly ass semantic games with me.” He grabbed a beer and started to gulp that down, too. “All those comments online that went like, ‘You’re so lucky!’, ‘She’s a real one!’, ‘Maddison Square Garden. LOL.’ Now I understand that shit. You saw those comments, too. I even had someone hit me up with something like, ‘Face of an angel, body of a succubus demon.’ I remember reading you the comment, giving you the ‘WTF’ face, and all you offered was a laugh, pretending to be as confused as I was.
She took the hem of her jacket in her fist and balled up the material.
“I’m sorry.” She sobbed.
“Yeah? I’m fuckin’ sorry, too. Sorry I ever met you.”
She looked away, hearing him gulp away his disappointment and disgust with her. The clank of a bottle hitting the inside of a trash can jarred her, but she kept her head down until she was brave enough to face him again.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you, Zake. You see how disgusted you are now that you know what I did?! I was wrong for keeping this from you, but you’d hate me all the same!” She made her way to the front door.
“Hold up, are you fuckin’ serious?”
She paused and turned, confused.
“You think I’m pissed off because you got paid to fuck on camera? You can’t be that fucking crazy, Promise. I’m pissed because you weren’t honest with me!”
“You expect me to believe that’s the only reason you’re mad? No way! I’ve seen that look before. You could never separate the woman I am now with my past. And you know what, Zake? I can’t say I blame you. You’re Gutter. Wouldn’t want to hitch your wagon to a whore, right?!”
“You’re wrong about all of this shit. You. Betrayed. Me. You didn’t trust me enough, after all we’ve done together, to put your pride aside and be upfront with me.” His face was so rigid, so immovable. “I told you already that I’ve dated all kinds of women, including a few who worked in the sex industry.”
