by T. Styles
When I remember the little boy who was shot in front of me, I order another drink. Although that was a terrible thing that happened to me during my tour, it certainly wasn’t the last.
“Bambi, what is the purpose of this shit,” Denim yells to be heard over the music. “We out here, dressed like dykes, while you get drunk. I want to go home,” she grabs me roughly by the arm. “Now let’s get out of here before somebody we know sees us.”
The way that she holds me brings back bad memories. I snatch away from her and grab her throat. I have a firm grip too and if I want, I can break it. I point at her with my other hand and say, “Don’t…touch…me…like…that…ever…again.”
Denim’s jaw tightens and she spits in my face. “Fuck you, Bambi! If you want to stay in here and act like we not widows, that’s on you. We’re out of here!” She grabs my sisters, the car keys out of my pocket, and they leave me in the club alone.
I wipe the spit out of my face and rub it on my pants. I feel sick at how I just treated them. What am I going to do if they abandon me? I take the cap I’m wearing off, and my long brown hair falls down my shoulders.
I drop my head on the bar when all of a sudden I hear, “Bambi, is that you?”
I turn around, and look up. I’m staring into Cloud’s face. “What’s wrong with you?” He looks down at me and I feel dirty dressed like this. “Why are you dressed like a nigga?” He looks around the club. “And, where the fuck is Kevin?”
“Don’t worry about all that,” I tell him. When I try to walk, I fall, and he catches me in his muscular arms.
“I’m getting you out of here,” he says, “Whether you want me to or not.”
****
I’ve think I’ve been asleep for about an hour, but I can’t be sure because I keep waking up. I’m in Cloud’s bed. I know because it smells like him. When he comes into the room, with no shirt on and navy pajama pants, my pussy jumps. I know that it’s wrong to think about sex, but I always do when I’m under pressure.
“I brought you this,” he hands me a cup of coffee. “There’s no sugar or cream in it. It’s the way you like it.”
I take the cup from him and drink half of it. He sits next to me and rubs my leg. The coffee is bitter so I hand it back. I drop to my knees and look up at him.
“Why are you down there?” He grins at me trying to pull me back up.
I stand my position. I rest my head on his knee. I don’t tell him but for what I want to do, I don’t want to see his face. “Can you put your hands on me?” I ask. “Please.”
His large hands run over my shoulders and neck. I close my eyes tight. So tight not even a little bit of light peaks through. Suddenly Kevin is stroking me, not Cloud. I feel like I did back in the day, when Kevin rubbed me to sleep after I awaken from the nightmares of the war that haunted me.
“Hmmm, that feels nice,” I tell him. “Please don’t stop.”
He rubs me harder, and then I stand on my knees. I snake my hand into the opening of his pajamas and pull out his dick. He’s hard and thick and I can feel myself moisten. When I stroke him a few more times, pre-cum slides out of the tip of his dick, and I lap it up like a kitten. He moans. He likes it. I know that he likes it. In Saudi Arabia, I slept with over fifty men, and every last one of them loved it.
I’m damaged. The kind of damage you can’t repair with a pill or good pep talk.
Before I know it his dick is in my mouth. It’s salty and warm. I like it. I push him deeper inside so that it rests upon my throat. I ease down closer, until I can extend my tongue and lick his balls at the same time.
“Fuck,” he says out loud. “Bambi, I’ve never in my life felt anything like this.”
I’m good. I’m the best, they’ve all told me before. I’m just about to take care of him even better, until I smell Kevin. It’s not actually him. I know he’s dead. Instead I smell the Clive Christian cologne he wears steaming from his jacket on the floor. What a slut I am. Look at me…with another nigga’s dick in my mouth.
I pull him out of my throat and bring Kevin’s jacket to my face. I inhale and cry into it. When I open my eyes and look up at Cloud I realize this is wrong. All wrong. I feel worse when I glance to my left and see the picture of him and Kevin at the club that was taken seven months ago. I quickly stand up, grab Kevin’s jacket and run out of the room. Ashamed, and with a wet pussy.
Tuesday, November 6th, 2012
12:00 pm
AUNT BUNNY
Aunt Bunny is sitting on the sofa with her best friend Therese gossiping about everybody’s business but her own. They are dressed in colorful muumuus and are passing a blunt back and forth. “You know I never told Kevin how I felt about his wife,” Bunny tells her friend as she lights another blunt. “I always spoke good shit about her around him. Now I feel like it may be my biggest regret.”
Don’t say that,” Therese says eager to pull on the fresh batch of weed Bunny has dangling between her fingers.
“I’m serious,” Bunny continues. “I know a lot of people who been in that war and ain’t none of them turn out right. They all gone in the head. And if something happened to Kevin because I bit my tongue, I will never forgive myself.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Therese says. “He might be out getting a little bit of pussy. You not gonna tell me he don’t think about another woman from time to time. The same bitch for seventeen years is enough to make anybody disappear.”
“Tell me about it,” Bunny laughs. “But, even if he ignored her he would never do that to me. He has never not ringed my phone. I still feel like something is up,” Bunny points the lit blunt at her and a few sparks fall on her leg. She doesn’t bother to swat them away. “I haven’t spoken to Kevin since Saturday. I don’t know what to do…I mean should I call the police?”
“Why would you do some shit like that?” Therese frowns scratching her gray wig. In her opinion Bunny was taking too long on the blunt hand off. But, since the smoke was free she just had to wait. “The Kennedy’s don’t invite the cops into their world. You know that.” Bunny sighs hearing the truth and hands the blunt to Therese. Finally, Therese thinks.
“Than what can I do?” Bunny asks.
“You said you have the flavor on that white girl,” she inhales and beats her chest. “Press her hard enough until she turns red. I bet you’ll find out everything you want to know then.”
Bunny uses the moment to think about Therese’s comment and reflects on her life. Bunny is conniving. She even murdered Kevin’s mother, Meredith Kennedy. Sure the papers said Meredith was an addict who eventually succumbed to a heroin overdose. But, what they didn’t know about was the hand that guided the needle into her withered vein.
Gloria “Bunny” Kennedy, had been jealous of her sister they called Merry since they were children. When they were growing up, Merry’s father came by and spent time with his daughter while Bunny’s father spent quality time with his homies in prison.
As teenagers, Merry was considered more beautiful with her almond colored skin and naturally long hair. While, Bunny scared off men left and right with her height, unreasonable body shape and wild large eyes.
All Bunny wished was that Merry, for once in her life, played the second position. Before long she got her wish. When Merry was an adult, she suffered from Multiple Sclerosis. During that period Bunny had never been happier. It brought joy to her heart that finally Princess Merry was given the bad end of life’s stick. And, since she was constantly in pain, Bunny introduced her to a man-made painkiller, heroin. Before long Merry didn’t know if she was coming or going nor did she care. Heroin was her nigga. Her lover. Her God. Bunny saw to it that Merry had heroin everyday until the hot shot Bunny bought Merry, which took her life. Bunny’s reward for her murder? Merry’s son, Kevin Kennedy.
Kevin was fucked up in the head when his mother died. His father was killed at a Poker game when he was a baby so he never got to know him. It was Bunny who nursed him when he was sick. It was Bunny who had prove
n her loyalty to him. It was Bunny who had his back before Bambi came into the picture. Some said, and it may be true, that Bunny loved Kevin more than she did her own twenty-year old daughter who was on crack, alone and in the world.
Moving on what Therese said, Bunny picked up her home phone. “You right, Therese. Let me put the press on Scarlett. Even if she can’t tell me where Kevin is, since she’s in that house I’m going to put her in charge of finding out.”
BAMBI
I just put the silver and white Kate Spade place settings down on our dining room table. To tell you the truth I was beat after making fried chicken, greens and mash potatoes for my family. It was my way of apologizing for my behavior at the club last night, and I made a decision not to fuck with the bottle anymore. You not gonna be able to do it. The voice in my head tells me. But I don’t listen. I’m stronger than the addiction…honest. Besides a lot is riding on the line. My sisters are counting on me to lead us into this meeting with the Russians, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. But, I need to be sober to make it happen.
After dishing their plates I call my sisters down using the intercom system. Denim and Jasmine come down using the elevator. Scarlett comes down using the stairs and Race comes upstairs from her monster lab in the basement. I swear that Race is so creepy sometimes. How someone can create horror masks all day long and be a punk in life is beyond me. Shouldn’t she be use to gore?
When everyone washes their hands they sit down. “How is everyone doing?” I ask trying to get my mind off of the dick I had in my mouth yesterday. “I know I haven’t asked, because I hate talking about it, but I really want to know now.” I look at all of them. “How are you taking their deaths?”
Denim looks at me, and guilt for what happened at the club is written all over her face. This morning she apologized ten times for spitting in my face at the club despite me telling her that I deserved it.
“I’m not doing well at all,” Denim says feeding Jasmine a piece of chicken. Jasmine opens her mouth, accepts the food, and continues to play with her fingers while babbling. “But I gotta be strong for my baby,” Denim shrugs. “You know. I guess we don’t have a choice. My family depends on me for everything, and I’m all Jasmine got.”
I feel so bad for Denim, because it must be terrible having a lazy-fat bitch for a mother and mooch for a sister.
“What about you, Race?” I ask looking at her. “How are you taking things?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Race says in a squeaky voice. She forks her mashed potatoes.
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“Because every time I try and talk, ya’ll joke behind my back. Talking about me being the monster girl downstairs,” she continues.
“I only called you a monster that one time at Halloween because you—,”
“It doesn’t matter,” Race yells cutting me off. “It hurts my feelings. I’ve been picked on and fucked with throughout high school. And, I deserve a little more respect in my home.” Race wipes her mouth with the white linen napkin. “So don’t ask me what I feel when you really don’t want to know. I think about it enough when I’m in my room alone.”
“I understand. But, it’s untrue, we do want to hear your opinion, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” I say although suddenly I want a drink. Race is so depressing that at times, she brings me down too. I look to my right. “What about you, Scarlett? How have you been doing?”
“I’m holding up,” she says eating some mashed potatoes. “I know it’s gonna get worse after we meet with these Russians. Because, right now the meeting is keeping our minds occupied.”
“The meeting is gonna be fine, and eventually we are going to be fine too. Our husbands would want us to stick together, and we have to honor the Kennedy name, and stand strong.” I sigh playing with my fork. God I want a drink so bad. “And I wanted to tell ya’ll that I’m done with the alcohol. I realize now that I can’t think straight with that shit.” I look up and can tell they don’t believe me. “I’m serious, you guys. Think about it for a second, I was clean for five years, until recently. I haven’t so much as used mouthwash in all that time. Trust me when I say that this soldier girl got it.” I look at each of them in their eyes. “Your lives in my hands are safe.”
“Why did Cloud bring you home last night?” Denim asks me out of nowhere. Sometimes she can be ridiculous. I mean we weren’t even talking about that shit.
“I’m not sure, but something tells me he brought me home because you took my Rolls Royce and left me at the club,” I say.
“I apologized for that already,” Denim responds wiping Jasmine’s mouth with a napkin. “What more you want me to do?”
“I’m just playing with you,” I tell her. “But I had to give you a comeback that was true. I’m over it already,” I continue waving my hand. “On the real there’s nothing more important to me than honesty, loyalty and family. This family,” I stab the table with my index finger. “And I want you all to know that I value that more than I do my own life.”
Scarlett moves uncomfortably in the chair. She holds her stomach. I’m worried. “Are you okay?” I ask her preparing to go to her end of the table to check on her.
“I…I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just gotta…well…I gotta leave,” Scarlett gets up and runs upstairs. Her long red hair flies in the wind behind her.
“What is that about?” I ask Race since they are closer friends.
“I don’t know,” she says looking at the vacant steps.
“Let’s go find out,” I say. We all get up and walk to her room. When we get in her room, Scarlett is lying on the bed crying her eyes out. “What’s going on?” I ask rubbing her back. “Did I say something wrong?”
Scarlett rolls over and looks at me. Denim and Race hang behind me. “I want to tell you something, but I don’t think you’ll love me the same anymore.” She sits up straight in her bed.
“Love you the same?” I repeat. Scarlett sounds crazy to me. Not only do I love her, I appreciate the stance she’s taken with the Russians issue. So the last thing I have in my heart for Scarlett is malice. “Scarlett, you can tell me anything. I need you to know that.”
“You say that now, but what if I did something so awful it can’t be taken back?”
“Like what,” Race says. “You’re scaring me.”
“Everybody scares you, Monster Girl.” I focus back on Scarlett.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Race pouts. “Stop calling me names!” She runs out of the room.
“Listen, if you knew some of the things I been through in my life,” I reply ignoring Race, “you couldn’t say that and be serious. Now I’m telling you that whatever is going on we got your back.”
“Scarlett, Bambi is right,” Denim says holding Jasmine’s hand while she plays with her own wrist. “Unless you hurting kids who cares what you did in your life? We all have shit with us and that’s what makes us unique. You gotta let whatever is holding you down off of your chest. That’s what we’re here for.”
Scarlett looks at us and lies back down on the bed. It seems like when Denim made her comment, she hardened up again. Scarlett wipes the tears off of her face and says, “It’s nothing serious. I’m just missing my husband that’s all.”
Somehow I don’t believe her. I got the feeling that what she wanted to tell us ran deeper than the obvious.
Wednesday, November 7th, 2012
2:00 pm
SCARLETT
I’m wearing Camps jeans, sweat shirt and coat. His New York Yankees cap dangles in my hand. I examine myself in the mirror. I turn left. I turn right, and then I turn around. If you just look at me, and I don’t move maybe you’ll think I’m a guy. But, when I look at myself stroll from the bathroom to the mirror, I can’t stop my hips from switching. I can’t stop my hands from swaying. I can’t stop myself from feeling like a woman.
I stuff my red hair in my baseball cap. I slide the cap down on my head. Way down, just above
my nose. Now I can past for a white boy…maybe one of them wannabe rappers my brother jokes about all the time. I cry when I realize the chances of me and my sisters pulling this gig off with the Russians is slim to none. The only one who can make a go of it is Bambi.
When my phone rings I know who it is now. Bunny has been calling me everyday since the Kings were killed. I want so badly to tell my sisters that she was on to us. But, I couldn’t unless they also knew about my past. I was five seconds from telling them about my life earlier, until Denim said what she thought about baby beaters. I can’t do it now.
I pick up the phone and answer. “Hello.”
“Let me guess, it’s Wednesday and Kevin and the boys are still not home.”
“How can I help you, Bunny?” I ask removing the cap and sitting it on my dresser.
“Have you discovered if Bambi knows what’s going on with Kevin yet?”
This is so stupid. Not only am I sure Bambi knows what’s going on…I do too. I can’t tell her that because just like she came into the living room and, told us that Bambi was drinking again, she’d do the same thing to me.
“Bunny, I really don’t think Bambi knows anything,” I lie. “Why don’t you just give it a little more time? Kevin hasn’t called Bambi either, but she’s not worried.”
“Scarlett, maybe I didn’t make myself clear when I called you the first time. Either you find some information I can use, or you’re useless to me. If you’re useless to me, I can disregard you and that’s trouble for you…you understand what I’m saying?”
“I feel like a snake,” I say softly. “Please don’t do this to me, Bunny. I need them in my life. They’re the only family I have left.”
“If you don’t find me some information in the next few days I will come over there, and tell them everything I know. I’m talking about the warrants, you abusing your own flesh and blood, and everything else, Scarlett. You got two days…give or take an hour.”
