by Donald Welch
“Yo, ‘sup? What you doing? Why don’t you come through the spot? When? Now, bitch! I’m hittin’ you up now, ain’t I?” he raised his voice.
“Aight, I’m sorry, Shorti. I ain’t mean to holla at you. It’s just I’m here all by myself wanting some company, you know, so I thought I’d hit my girl up.” He took another drag on the blunt.
“Don’t worry about her. This is my spot. She ain’t here no way. Yo, look, you coming through or not?” A smile crept across his face and he lay back down across the bed. “Yo, you miss me?” he said in a low sexy voice.
“Hurry up!” DuBoy shouted out playfully before hanging up. Feeling the buzz from his high, he headed to the shower, but not before calling Torch and telling him he was going to come by and holla at him later.
On the other side of town, Flynn and Alexia stopped by Ben and Jerry’s while taking a summer night’s stroll down South Street. South Street was a very popular, trendy ten-block strip of quaint little restaurants, shops, and boutiques. If Philadelphia was known as the city of neighborhoods and cultures, then South Street was a sure indication that this was true.
Flynn and Alexia had been spending a lot of time together the past couple weeks, just getting to know each other. Flynn was ready to take it to the next level, but he didn’t want to push her. Alexia was very guarded about her feelings, which Flynn chalked up to a past relationship gone bad. But Flynn was willing to be patient. It had been a long time since he’d actually met someone he felt this way about.
Even though Flynn was pretty open about his story, Alexia offered little about her background except that she was an only child and that, except for her cousin, she didn’t really stay in touch with many of her relatives. “Have you ever been married?” he asked in between spoonfuls of ice cream.
“Nah … I don’t think a committed relationship has to have a piece of paper from City Hall,” Alexia replied.
“True. But I thought most girls wanted the fantasy-type wedding. The long white dress, bridesmaids, the church. You know, the whole nine yards,” Flynn said, chuckling.
“Not all girls,” Alexia offered. “If I am ready to settle down with anyone again, a small intimate commitment ceremony is fine with me. I don’t need all that pomp and circumstance.”
“You are a rare one, Miss Alexia Adams. I’m definitely not letting you go.” They both laughed.
“Oh really, now. Who said you have me to let go?” Alexia teased.
“It’s like that, huh? Well, I thought by now that I was doing a pretty good job of winning you over.” Flynn stopped walking and turned to look in Alexia’s eyes. He wanted to kiss her but just wasn’t sure if it was where Alexia wanted to go. She looked away momentarily.
“What’s the matter?” Flynn asked.
Looking at him for a moment, Alexia smiled and said, “Nothing is wrong, Flynn. You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve been doing everything right. It’s just that … well. Look, I like you very much Flynn, I really do. But I’m not ready, okay?” Alexia teared up.
Taking her face in his hands Flynn pulled her closer. Her body stiffened initially, but after looking into his eyes she relaxed a bit.
“Who hurt you?” Flynn asked in a low voice while searching her eyes for an answer.
“Excuse me!” a female voice bellowed over the various street sounds.
“Y’all need to get a room—dang!” said a member of a group of teenage girls trying to pass the couple, whose romantic embrace was blocking the thoroughfare.
“Oops, we’re sorry,” Alexia said, taking Flynn’s hand and moving off to the side. She was relieved: The girls’ interruption gave her a chance to change the subject.
“Hey, why don’t we walk down to Penn’s Landing and sit by the water? I love it down there.”
Flynn agreed and they started toward the landing. After a few steps, Flynn took Alexia’s hand in his. She didn’t object. He smiled and they walked the next few moments in silence, taking in the night.
“I’ll wait, Alexia,” Flynn said, still keeping his eyes straight ahead. Alexia didn’t respond. There was no need for her to do so. She knew exactly what Flynn meant. Instead, she exhaled and tightened her grip on his hand. They passed the same group of girls, who paraphrased a line from a Beyoncé tune: “If you like it like that, put a ring on it!” and broke out into girlish giggles. The happy couple joined in and laughed themselves.
In apartment 3A, the piercing sound of the bell jolted DuBoy from a sound sleep. Stumbling over to the front door he shouted out, “Who is it?” Leaning in to the peephole, he recognized who it was and slowly opened the door.
“What the fuck took you so long, ma’?” a sluggish, half-dressed DuBoy questioned the scantily dressed young woman.
“You gonna let me in or not?” she asked him with both hands on her hips.
“What you got for me, Shorti?” DuBoy asked while biting his bottom lip.
Pushing past him, she headed directly into the bedroom and started taking off her clothes.
“Y’all got any beer in there,” she shouted out.
“Girl, you come here to drink or get busy?” DuBoy said, sticking his head in the refrigerator. All he saw was Storm’s last Heineken. She had warned him not to drink it. Pausing for a moment, he almost decided against giving it to his guest but reasoned that he wasn’t the one who was going to drink it.
It was only a matter of seconds before the two were entwined in a steamy sex session that seemed to last forever. Both exhausted, they lay still as DuBoy lit up another blunt. As he passed it to her, she asked, “So, how was it?”
“The blunt? Shit, good as always,” he said and took another drag.
“You know damn well what I mean, DuBoy!” she said as she turned her nude body away to rest on her side. He softly stroked the lower part of her back.
“Girl, you know I’m just kidding. You know yo shit be good or I wouldn’t still be hollering at you,” DuBoy said. But his words fell on deaf ears.
“Stop playin’, girl … You hear me? … Pia?”
Pulling her hair away from her face, Pia turned and faced DuBoy.
“DuBoy, how much longer we gonna go through this shit? You know I don’t even like the fact that bitch be over here with you,” Pia said.
“Relax, ma’, you know I gotta do what I gotta do. I need Storm to make this shit work and you know it,” DuBoy whispered as his lips brushed up against hers.
“I know, but why she gotta stay here? She got a sister—shit, let her stay with her. And don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe that ya’ll ain’t doing shit in this bed, either.”
“Look, like I said, a nigga gotta do what a nigga gotta do.” He paused before continuing, “You know it don’t mean nuthin’. Shit, I just be going through the motions.”
“Yeah, but how do I know you ain’t feenin’ for her ass like you used to before she went down?”
“ ’Cause I told you I ain’t,” he said, raising his voice. “Now look, I gotta get ready and bounce. Torch wanna see me tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Boo, I just want things to go back to the way they were before you-know-who came home,” Pia said, softening her tone.
“It will. You just gotta stop trippin’ and let me handle my business, you feel me?”
“Okay,” Pia said.
DuBoy took another hit. “Yo, have you linked up with her yet?”
“Nah, not yet, but I have gone by the club. But you know I got into it with that bitch Nettie. Pissed me off so bad I just up and left. I ain’t got time for her shit.”
“Well, you might wanna fix that shit ’cause ya’ll used to run together. You need to get back in Storm’s good graces. You know, for old times’ sake.” DuBoy got up and started toward the bathroom.
“Yeah, I know, but I might have to kill that old dyke first!” Pia spat.
DuBoy laughed as he peed. “I hear laughter in the rain,” he hummed, chuckling a little harder. Once he came out, Pia used the bathroom, and he got t
o work ripping all the sheets and pillowcases off the bed and tossing them in the washer.
The sound of a door closing in the apartment above her indicated to Barbara Bowman that she could finally put down her JET magazine and attempt to fall asleep. The familiar noise coming from her neighbor had once again awakened her. Instead of lying there, hearing the live sex show, she’d decided to turn on her night-light and read. She was glad that Whitney Houston was making a comeback. That girl could sing her ass off, she thought to herself. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why anybody that talented and beautiful would ever get mixed up in all that mess. Then she remembered that bout of alcoholism her thirty-three-year-old son, Rodney, went through a few years back and the pain it caused her and the family. Closing JET and putting the light out, she said a silent prayer for Whitney and her son.
< EIGHTEEN >
Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child
Skylar was sitting in her office at Legends going over the books. Legends was enjoying its best quarter since it opened two years ago. Normally, it took restaurants and clubs a few years to turn a profit. The attention and success her club was enjoying had been overwhelming, to say the least. But she knew the club deserved every accolade it was given. The road to success hadn’t been easy— not at all—but she was happy. Sidney had been away from home more than ever, because his business continued to grow, too. Hiring Mike Chin was supposed to ease his workload, but the two worked so well together that the number of projects keeping them busy during the day—and clients keeping them awake at night—kept increasing. At times Skylar felt as if she and Sidney were like two ships passing in the night, they saw so little of each other. She missed him; since Dutch died, Sidney had become her rock.
Skylar was glad they had decided to take a trip to Rio once the summer was over, just to enjoy each other, to enjoy life. A dose of paradise was what they both needed right now.
Closing her eyes, she pictured her and Sidney lying out on the deck of a beachside villa sipping piña coladas and sunrise daiquiris. They would make love every day. That was going to be Sidney’s only job. He’d have no complaints about that. No cellphones, intruders, or business decisions. Just the two of them and the ocean. “Skylar.”
“Hmm, hmm,” Skylar answered, still smiling with her eyes closed.
“Girl, I don’t know where you are right now, but wherever it is, you’re having you a good ol’ time,” Nettie teased.
“Oh, Nettie. I’m sorry. Just closing my eyes for a minute. What are you doing here?” Coming out of her temporary state of tranquillity and serenity, Skylar sat upright in her office chair.
“I called the house, and Sid said you were still over here at the club,” Nettie said.
“Yeah, just going over the books from last quarter.”
“No problem, was there?” Nettie looked concerned.
“No, no. Things are good. Couldn’t be better …businesswise.” Skylar smiled. “So, what’s on your mind, Nettie?” Skylar leaned forward with her hands folded under her chin.
Nettie sat in a chair directly across from Skylar’s medium-size oak wood desk. Nettie seemed a little uneasy, taking some time before she spoke.
“Skylar, you know I don’t get in you and your sister’s business …”
“Now, how did I know that this was what you wanted to talk about?” Skylar folded her arms across her chest.
“Because you know me, that’s why,” Nettie said. They both laughed. “Like I said, I haven’t said much. In fact, I’ve kept quiet about it ’cause I was hoping that things would work themselves out without my interference.” The words seemed to flow a little easier for Nettie now. “But it is straight up killing me the way you two have been acting. Like y’all aren’t even sisters! In fact,” she said, “I am glad that Dutch isn’t around to see all of this discord.”
“You think I want to fight with Storm, Nettie? I don’t. But my hands are tied,” Skylar said, throwing up her hands. “I wish Daddy were here. Then I’d let him handle her, because even though she’d still do what she wanted, he’d have a better chance of getting through to her.”
“I’m sure if your father could be here, he would, Skylar. But you know how he started to forget things. Toward the end, he didn’t even know who you were. That was hard for him,” Nettie said.
“That’s crap, and you know it, Nettie!” Skylar said as she snatched a tissue from the small floral box planted on the edge of her desk.
“Skylar!” Nettie said in a sharp tone.
“Nettie, Dutch gave up on himself, me, and everyone else. He was selfish.”
“There was no cure for what your father had. He knew it would have gotten to the point where me, you, and Sidney would have had to take care of him, and he didn’t want that.”
“I would never have put my father away!” Skylar raised her voice. “I had already discussed it with Sidney. He was fine with whatever I wanted to do, Nettie!”
“His health was already failing with the diabetes, and when the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s hit him, he got beside himself. I remember him telling me that he didn’t want to be a burden—”
Skylar interrupted. “A burden! Do you hear yourself, Nettie? It’s like you agreed with him. Dutch was never a burden. We would have made it all work!” Skylar’s voice escalated, “Taking his own life was not the answer!” Skylar banged her fist on the desk.
Silence overtook the small office momentarily as both women tried to calm down.
“As hard as it may be for us to accept what your father did, it was his choice,” Nettie said very softly. “I remember him sitting up one night on his front porch and telling me how no one knew what it felt like to lay your head down at night and not know how you’re going to wake up.”
“He said that to you? What did you say, Nettie? Why didn’t you tell me?” Skylar asked.
“Baby, don’t you know if I thought your daddy planned on harming himself that I would’ve told you or tried to stop him?”
“I’m sorry for yelling at you, Nettie,” Skylar said as she walked from behind the desk and sat in a chair adjacent to Nettie’s. Looking at a framed portrait of herself with a smiling Dutch on the wall, she told Nettie how the most difficult day of her life had been when she had to bury Dutch. “Watching them lower him in the ground literally took the breath out of me.” Nettie took her hand. “And Storm was no help,” Skylar continued. “I couldn’t count on her for any support if I wanted to.”
“What did you expect her to do, Sky? She was locked up! You know that she loved your daddy as much as you did.” Nettie rubbed Skylar’s hand and continued, “She’s all the family you got. Dutch didn’t raise either one of you to be like that.”
“To this day, Storm has you wrapped around her finger, just like she did Daddy. She was a disaster! She was in jail because she got herself in some more trouble. She put herself in that predicament. She was—”
“Now you stop it right now, Skylar!” Nettie jumped straight up. “You don’t think your daddy and I know your sister? Stop being so self-righteous!”
“You know what, Nettie, it’s getting a little too warm in here,” Skylar said, and got up and walked out into the main area of the club. Nettie was right behind her.
“Dutch loves both of you girls the same, Skylar.”
Swiftly turning around, Skylar scolded her. “The word is loved. Remember? Dutch is dead. He made the choice to check out.”
“Love is eternal,” Nettie said.
“Let me ask you something, Nettie. Do you think Dutch was a Christian?”
“What kind of question is that? You know your daddy was close to the Lord.”
“Really?” Skylar asked sarcastically. “Because, see, Daddy committed the worst sin of them all. He took his own life! I wonder how God felt about that one. Huh? You think he just welcomed him in with open arms?”
“That ain’t got nothing to do with me or you, Skylar Morrison. That’s between your daddy and his maker!” Nettie yelled.
Skylar went to the bar and poured herself a drink, something she rarely did.
Nettie took a moment before walking over to her. “Look, Skylar, I know you are a strong young woman, and you never gave your father any trouble. In fact, when you were a little girl I could tell that you were going to make something special of yourself. We all could. And look at you now, girl. Everything in your life is going well. You know I ain’t never been that religious, but God is truly blessing you.”
“Funny, I don’t feel that way,” Skylar said, sitting down at the bar and sipping her drink. “Sometimes I think God has left me, too. Just like Dutch.” She became misty eyed.
Looking right at her, Nettie told her, “God never left you. He is always around and so is Dutch.”
“Was God around when Dutch killed himself?”
Again there was silence. “Nettie, I’m sorry,” Skylar said. “I don’t know where that came from. Let’s go back to the original subject: What am I going to do about Storm? She came to me a while ago talking some crap about selling the place or I’d have to buy her out. Can you believe that?”
“Storm was just running off at the mouth. You more than anyone else should know that the girl changes her mind more than a traffic light. She’ll be onto something else tomorrow,” Nettie chuckled.
“How can she come back here after being locked up for three years and just think she has some claim on things?” Skylar asked.
“Your father left the property to the both of you,” Nettie reminded her.
“Because I made him! It was the right thing to do! It was supposed to be in name only! She never wanted anything to do with it!”
Nettie sat on the bar stool next to Skylar. “You know, as long as I’ve been working here, I’ve never sat on this side of the bar,” she said, looking around and giggling. Rubbing the middle part of Skylar’s back, Nettie told her, “Regardless of how Storm was, Dutch had two daughters, and he wanted nothing but the best for the both of you.”
