by Mj Fields
“I should thank you.” I shake my head. “But who is Chilz?
“My bowl, the one he shattered. It meant a lot to me.”
“A bowl meant a lot to you?” I am now pissed again. He makes no sense. He makes me feel like I make no sense.
“Yeah, it did.” He looks serious as hell, too.
I close my eyes and try to use every anger management coping skill I ever learned. Then I hear the door shut, and he is gone … with my dog.
*****
Not five minutes after he leaves, my phone chimes; it’s Natasha telling me she and Jordan are on their way over.
Shit!
I spend the next five minutes cleaning up broken glass, putting flowers in a vase, and trying my damndest not to lose it again. I can’t let them see me weak. I am strong.
Natasha and Jordan have never met the old Keanna, the one who was a skeleton of a woman. The one I swore I left behind when I walked into the gym a few months ago. And a ten-minute scuffle will not undo who I am. Miguel, the man-boy I practically grew up with, will not undo the work I did to make myself who I am today.
There have been momentous moments in my life. I was the first to graduate high school in my family, the only one who didn’t get knocked up or knock someone up before high school graduation, the only one who didn’t spend at least a year of their life in lock up. I was the first to graduate from college and the first to have a home, albeit an apartment, not shared with family or friends. I am a strong, proud black woman.
Nana, my grandmother, the daughter of a preacher, raised me and my siblings when my parents were gone—my father by choice my mother by circumstance. We were raised with God’s love and Maya Angelou’s wisdom by a woman who walked the walk and not just talked the talk. She was proud of us, all four of us: my brothers and my sister. She was an amazing woman.
There were no monetary indulgences. She was not materialistic. Even when we had extra, she never spent it on herself. Her treasures were us. Her bounty was her family, and she believed she was blessed beyond belief.
Looking around at my beautiful apartment, yet feeling emptiness inside, gives me a deeper appreciation for her way of living. She was right. Money and things are nothing. Family and love are everything. She never looked at me like I disappointed her. I never knew such a look until Miguel.
I wish you were here to tell me what to do, I think as I drag the broom across the floor, pushing the remaining shards of glass into a dustpan.
I immediately retract that thought. Seeing me struggle would have hurt her and me.
I struggled my whole life with weight, with boys, with friends, with self-esteem. She helped me heal. She helped me realize where the pain came from. It was like she flipped a switch, and when the light came on, everything was clear. I learned I was letting things I could never change hold me back.
My grandmother raised a strong woman who has the skills to bounce back from everything. Then, after I graduated college, she died. It was almost as if she knew I would be okay. Back then, I wasn’t, but I am now because it’s a choice.
I grab some paper towels, wet them, and then use them to mop up any tiny pieces of glass so that, when Jordan grabs the bin of toys from the closet and drags them out here to play with when they get here, he won’t get hurt.
Moments later, the doorbell rings.
As soon as they walk in, I know something is up.
“Grab the toys, Jordan,” Natasha instructs, clearly flustered after he gives me a hug. “Mom and Auntie Keanna need to do some girl things.”
“Where’s Tinker Bell?” Jordan asks, looking around.
“She went with a friend.”
“Like a play date?”
I nod, trying not to get choked up.
Natasha senses it and quickly bends down to kiss his head. “Just like a play date.” Then she walks over, turns on the television, and puts it on the Discovery Channel, Jordan’s favorite. She takes a deep breath, grabs my hand, and whisks me off toward my bedroom. “We’re right in here, bud.”
“Okay, Mommy!” he calls back as he pulls the bin of toys in front of the TV.
She looks at my unmade bed and then gasps when she looks at the floor.
“What?” I ask, following her eyes to see what she is looking at. “Oh, hell.”
I grab a tissue and pick up the knotted off condom that River must have dropped on the floor. Then I quickly walk into the bathroom, drop it in the toilet, and flush it away.
Taking a deep breath, I walk back into the bedroom.
“Spill it,” she orders.
“You first,” I retort, finally making eye contact with her.
Another gasp and she reaches up to push the hair I styled to hide the worst of my horrible morning’s evidence, and the first tear falls.
“Did that asshole do this to you?” she asks with whispered rage. I know she’s talking about River.
“No. Of course not,” I tell her, pulling my hair back to cover my face.
“Don’t you lie for him,” she warns, wiping away her own tear. “I knew he was a mess. I never should have let you leave with him. I am so sorry, Keanna. If I wasn’t so”—she pauses and blushes furiously—”wrapped up in my own need to escape with that … that Master, I would have never.”
“River didn’t do it. Miguel did.”
“I’ll kill him!” she snaps.
“Tell me about Masterson,” I encourage, hoping to direct the conversation back to her.
“Did he take Tinker Bell?” she asks.
I am tempted to deflect yet know better. I have watched her with Jordan as he tries to get another piece of candy or watch another ten minutes of a show.
“Fine, we’ll talk about me, but understand that moment doesn’t define me. And please don’t ask again. It’s in the past, and the only reason I am gonna tell you is to avoid the UN Summit-like inquiries about the incident.”
She sits down and nods, not saying a word as I spill every bit of my morning.
“So, no, River didn’t do it. He didn’t do anything wrong. He found Tink and returned her, and Aaron was having her evicted, and well, he took her.”
“He has your dog?” Natasha gasps.
I look over at the passenger seat at the bear-dog named after a tiny, little fairy. Then I look at the blue clock lights, seeing it’s only ten in the damn morning.
“I am far too fucking sober for this shit.”
We stop at a light, and I am immediately overwhelmed with the feeling of responsibility and the fact that I am in no position to take on…any. It’s a dog, not a girl, I think. After the accident, driving now fucks with me.
I reach around the bear-dog and grab the seatbelt. When she growls, I growl back, and her ears perk up.
“That’s right, Tink; I’m in charge, and you’re wearing a fucking seatbelt.”
She growls again, so I do, too.
I grab my phone and snap a picture, fully intending on sending it to Keanna, which I do.
There’s one problem with sending messages: you can’t stop the shit. You can hope like hell it doesn’t go through, but almost as if it’s a universal law, rule, whatever you want to call it, when you want it to, it doesn’t. When you don’t want it to, it does.
“What the hell?” I throw the phone down, feeling like a turd, a big, giant turd, because … Why the fuck did I do that?
My phone chimes, and I sigh.
“Stupid fuck,” I mutter before grabbing the phone and looking at it. Masterson.
I have never been so happy to get a text from a dude in my life. I’m even happier when I realize I am less than a mile from the fucker who broke Chilz, hurt the girl, and let the bear-dog out, unsupervised.
“What’s your take on Miguel, Tink?”
She growls.
“I feel ya. You know what the term ‘sick balls, chopper’ means?”
She growls again.
“Good. Let’s go fuck shit up.”
I reach out to pet her, and she growls again
. I do it back, and then, using my bad hand, I take a chance with the bear-dog and scratch behind her ears. She fucking loves it, pushing against the hand like a chick thrusts her hips against the finger bang.
“I may not know much, Tink, but I know how to make the bitches happy. Physically, anyway. You and me, we’re gonna be best friends. Fuck, I may re-name you Finn. You’re kind of grumpy like him. And you and I, we don’t have a fucked up past, so we’re one step ahead of that shit.”
I stop petting her when the light turns green. I look left, then right and do it again. A horn blows behind me, so I give them the one finger salute. Fuckers have no idea what could happen in the blink of an eye. I do, so I wait until they blow it again before I hit the gas.
In front of the house Masterson gave me the address to, I pull over and turn off Billy’s Beamer.
Tink starts whining and sniffing.
I never had a dog, but I am pretty damn sure that means she either has to shit or needs to stretch those legs of hers.
“Okay, girl, you’ve got two minutes, and then I’m gonna head in and take care of business, but ladies first.”
I get out and walk around the SUV, open her door, and she hops out. She immediately jets to a patch of grass and cops a squat.
“Damn, girl,” I cringe, looking away, trying to give her some privacy. Plus, I don’t want to see that shit.
I hear her growl and look back. Her teeth are bared. Immediately, I see exactly what she sees—that fucker walking down the road, pants hanging nearly off his ass, headphones on, and he’s texting.
My blood boils. I want to kick his saggy ass for fucking with Keanna and Tink.
What the fuck? Now I have given her a nickname? You stupid fuck! I yell at myself.
And Chilz. Chilz is the reason I really want to kick his ass.
He walks by, oblivious, and that’s exactly what I do.
I kick his ass, and he falls down, face fucking first.
With Tink’s leash wrapped around my wrist, I bound forward and plunge my knee between his shoulder blades and into his back.
“You don’t listen well, motherfucker,” I say through clenched teeth.
“What the fuck, man! Get the fuck—” He stops and cries out, “Ouch, you fucking bitch!”
I look left to see Tink has his hand between her chompers.
“You better be real nice to her, you little fucking saggy pant worm. You already tried to get rid of her once, and just like me, motherfucker, she’s back.” I shove his face into the pavement. “You broke something that belongs to me, and you fucking cut up a perfect face today.”
“She provoked me, man!” Then and there is when I want to make him stop breathing. Fuck that, jail sucks, but I would rather drag him into Hell.
“Did she tell you how good I licked her sweet, little cunt? How my cock filled her like yours never could? Did she tell you what it was like to have a real man between her legs?”
He cries out, and Tink releases his hand.
“Tink, you nasty, little bitch, we aren’t done here,” I say, and she grabs his shoe.
“Get that fucking piece of shit away from me!”
“Piece of shit? Piece of shit! I’ll show you piece of shit!”
I stand up and grab the back of his fucking hoodie before dragging him back to where the shit actually lies. I throw him down, and he pushes up, but I raise my foot above his head and push him face first in the nice fucking pile Tink left.
“You fucking eat that, motherfucker.”
“Fuck!” he cries out, trying to push up again.
I grab my phone as my boot holds his head down in the dog shit and snap a picture.
“You go near her again, and I can promise you that you’ll fucking drown in a month’s worth of Tink’s shit.”
I hear a gasp and look up to see two teenage girls turning the corner.
I lift my foot and nod. “Girls, don’t ever fall in love with a boy who doesn’t even know how to pull up his motherfucking pants.”
They nod furiously.
“Let’s go, Tink. It fucking smells like shit around here.”
*****
I walk in the house, and Billy immediately notices Tink. I planned out what I would say to him the entire ride back. I assumed he would be pissed, but there is no shock or awe on his face. It’s kind of disappointing since I kind of get off on that.
“Tink, Billy. Billy, Tink. She’s a bitch, so don’t try to pet her. She got evicted from her last home because she didn’t like the guy who ran the joint, so just a heads up, don’t piss her off.”
That ought to get him.
“You got a dog?”
“No, man, I got a bear named after a fairy.” I don’t dare unhook her leash, so she and I stroll over to the cupboard and grab a big ass, metal salad bowl, and I fill it with water.
I set it on the ground, and she immediately starts lapping it up, water splashing everywhere. Billy watches, still no change of facial expression. I know that shit is going to set him off.
“She’s a beautiful dog. Please tell me this is a joke,” he says, looking up at me.
“No joke.”
He nods once, then looks down at her. “When we tour, how are you gonna take care of her?”
“We?” I point between us. “I’m not touring. Remember, I have an injury.”
“You were holding that leash tightly when you came in, and you played really well last night, so you’re ready to come back.”
“The fuck I am,” I grumble.
“River, it’s time you and Finn mend—”
“Don’t start that shit with me today. It hasn’t been a good day. Chilz is dead, man.” I look at him, seeing some concern. “She’s gone. Shattered. It’s a bad fucking day. So again, don’t start.”
“So you replaced a bowl with a dog.”
“That’s no dog. That’s a fucking bear. I didn’t replace Chilz. I was helping out a chick who helped me out last night.”
He looks at me, shaking his head. “I have to go and get some work done. Please tell me this is some sort of joke.”
“I can tell you that, but it would be bullshit. I’m too fucking tired, a little bit emotional, and a whole lot too sober to be awake right now. I’m gonna sleep it off.”
“Sleep off what?” he asks, his voice finally showing some pissed off.
“The sobriety and loss.” I grab my phone out of my pocket, press the photos, and hand it to him. “The dog and I took care of the issue. Will you put that on the charging pad? My bed is calling my name.”
“Our name,” he corrects.
“No man, mine.”
“You and her.” He points to Tink, who doesn’t even growl at him as he reaches down and pets her head.
“Tink, what the hell?” I look from her to him. “She likes you.”
“Dogs and kids always do.”
*****
I wake up to a hot tongue lapping at my face. I roll to my side and put my hand on the owner of the tongue.
“So lucky you’re a bear. Nothing with this much hair has ever been in my damn bed before.” I open my eyes. “Tink, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”
She stops licking me immediately, lays her big-ass head on the pillow next to mine, and sighs.
“I gotta piss. Then I gotta sleep. No more tongue fucking my face, either,” I grumble as I get up and walk to the bathroom.
She grumbles back.
When I come out, Tink is sitting on the floor, panting, and a very sexy woman is in my room. I smirk when she looks at me.
“What have we here?” I clap my hands and dive on my bed, then pat the spot next to me.
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on; I never got round two.”
Tink starts to get up on my bed, but Keanna gasps and says, “Tinker Bell, get off that bed,” so Tink heels.
“Look, babe, I can promise you there are clean sheets, and as you know, I don’t go in unwrapped, so—”
“She isn’t s
upposed to be on furniture; she is a dog. She has a pillow bed, and that is unacceptable.”
“When she’s here, she gets the bed unless, of course, you want in. We’ll make room.”
“Natasha said she would take her until I find a new place.”
“Doc? Wait, do you think I can’t handle a fucking dog, babe?” Has to be that because why the fuck wouldn’t she want an excuse for another round with me.
“Miguel called,” she tells me.
Tink and I both growl.
“He’s supposed to stay the fuck away from you,” I snap.
“You not only allowed but encouraged the dog to viciously attack his hand?”
“Please, I didn’t encourage that. I tried the ‘sick balls, chopper’ command, but she hasn’t learned that one … yet.” I scratch my head. “Did he tell you he was face first in a pile of Tink’s finest creation?”
“What?” She almost laughs.
Her near smile makes me chub up a bit. She is wearing sweats—hot pink ones—that I know have some logo splayed across that ass. Juicy, I bet, and I know it is. With a matching hoodie, she looks sweet, like candy, and I want to taste her.
I lie back and put my hands behind my head, knowing damn well I am putting it all on display. She’s trying her best not to check me out, but it’s an epic fail.
“Let’s discuss.” I pat the bed, and Tink bounds up on it.
“Tink!” she gasps.
“You’re pissing your mom off, you sexy beast.” I chortle.
Keanna throws her hands in the air. “You certainly are something, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” I slide over. “We had a shit morning, which ended in a shit conversation. I’m exhausted. I know you must be, too. Keanna”—I sigh—”climb up in here and snuggle in. I will try to keep my hands to myself, which is code for I didn’t get a chance to play with those delicious-looking tits last night, and as soon as you fall asleep, I am for sure gonna cop a feel, maybe a lick or two.”
