Yeah, I sold Dalyn’s house without Darren’s permission, despite all of our arguments and despite the beating I knew was coming, yes, I did it anyway. I knew he used that house as a sex chalet and was humping on any damn thing with two legs over there. I made it seem like it was about money, but it was really about his infidelity. I thought by selling the house, it would make it hard for him to mess around and he would be forced into getting hotel rooms. And for a few weeks, it was hard on him. I saw the text messages in his phones of him trying to get bitches to pay for a room and he would reimburse them when he got there but just as I suspected, most of them bitches was broke and not having it.
One day as I was driving home from work, and just happened to pass by Dalyn’s house, yes, the one that I sold, I saw Darren's car parked out front. Needless to say, I wondered what was going on but was too afraid to ask. So my women's intuition kicked into high gear. I knew that Ken and Darren worked at the same bank and had obviously become extra buddy-buddy all of a sudden. Every night Darren would stay out late, saying he was just going to hang out with Ken and that it was no big deal. He made it seem like they were just talking about work and watching ESPN, and shooting the shit. I may be stupid but I ain’t nobody’s fool. I knew that shit was a lie. In fact, I knew their punk asses were over there calling up all types of nasty trollops doing God knows what.
So, one night, I built up enough nerve to follow him. My plan was to follow him and wait in my car until the heifers showed up, and then I was going to knock on the door and bust him, taking pictures with my I-Phone. It never happened. In fact, I followed him for 6 weeks straight, and I declare, not a single female showed up at Ken’s place. Curious is not even the word for what I felt. With Darren, nothing was to be taken at face value at all anymore. All kind of thoughts was going on in my head. I figured maybe he saw my car and was sneaking the tramps around back or something. I decided that I would park around the corner, walk to the house, and wait out back.
If Darren had had any inkling of an idea that I was following him, I would be a dead woman today. No doubt in my mind, I can assure you of that. I can hardly explain to you the fear that was embedded in my entire being as I tiptoed around to the back of the house. Then I heard him. I heard that exhausted ass pant that he does whenever he's having sex. I crept to the side of the bedroom window, I-Phone in hand, with every intention of getting the evidence I needed to get me a nice ass divorce settlement.
I put my phone up to the window and snapped the first picture without even looking and when I looked at what I snapped, I stood there stunned and shocked in a trance. I had what I needed, got what I came there for, yet I could not move. I remember my mom used to always say, “Baby if you go snooping, expect to find exactly what you’re looking for to the 10th power.” She was right. I went looking for a dirt rock and found a dirt fucking mountain. I didn't know what to do; didn't know how I would face him and not say something about the picture I snapped, the proof I had, or what I had seen. I couldn't believe that he beat me nearly to death and accused me of being something I wasn’t, for something he himself was.
I went home, showered, and got in bed, too stunned and bewildered to eat or even cry. I knew he was cheating but with a man? WHAT THE HELL? My mind was racing and would not shut down. I wanted a divorce, I wanted proof, and now I had it and was too damn frozen to do anything except lay there. When he came home, I pretended to be asleep just to avoid conversation.
The next morning, I got up extra early and went to work without even saying good morning, good-bye, or have a nice day. Nothing. I just left. I had to. As I sipped on my morning coffee during my drive to work, I was starting to see why he fronted as if he hated gays and why it was so easy for him to disrespect me and treat me like shit. He hated himself. He hated that he was a down-low brother and instead of being honest with himself, he pretended to be sickened by gays because he believed that it was easier to put up this shield. Damn. All that endless trash talking was nothing more than a cover to throw us off and keep everyone from seeing through his transparent ass. He hated women too, that’s why it was so easy to fuck them, treat them like dirt, and fuck over me, his wife. What a sad pathetic life.
I went on with my workday, mostly in shell shock, but just before my lunch break, he called me and asked me to meet him at home for lunch. I agreed but I was oh so nervous because I thought maybe he had seen the picture on my phone. It was nothing for him to go through my phone while I slept. Maybe he was going to kill me to keep me quiet, from exposing to the world that he was indeed gay. Maybe he was going to fess up and say that he was gay and he was leaving me for Ken. All these thoughts sent my mind into overtime. The only thing I wanted from him was a fair divorce settlement. If he wanted Ken, cool. I just didn't want to leave with nothing because I put up with seven years of ass whippings and tongue-lashings and felt I deserved something from that fucking baby murderer!
Something with him was off. He was definitely shook when I got home that day and he didn't waste no time telling me what he called me home for. He told me that he had a surprise for me. I was thinking, “Aww Shit!” The last time he had a “surprise” I ended up in the County emergency room with a broken arm and a bruised jawbone because he had pictures of me having lunch with a client. Imagine my surprise when he said he had a separate bank account that had close to $10 million in it. Of course, I didn't believe him and then he pulled out a bank statement. I still couldn’t believe it and all I could think about was half of 10 is 5 and $5 million is a hellava divorce settlement and more than enough to start over. But trip, he started apologizing and shit, saying he was sorry for cheating and lying, and that he wanted to get re-married, and build a better foundation, and blah, blah, blah.
Now that really sent my ass to left field and for a hot second, I thought he could sense my doubt. He said that he was sick of his job and we had enough money to start over. He told me to go back to work, quit my job and to make flight reservations to anywhere in the world because we were leaving, going to start a new life.
See, all that kind of talk made me super suspicious, because since we had gotten married, we never traveled anywhere that wasn’t for business. And the money? I couldn't believe it. I saw the bank statement for myself and I still could not believe it. And it's a good thing I trusted my instincts on this one because, I knew he would not want a long drawn out divorce , not with the proof positive picture I had where you could clearly see his and Ken’s faces and naked bodies all intertwined. I was thinking this was going to be a quick and easy divorce. So yeah, I went back to work and quit, but before I went home to make my demands, I stopped at the bank. I needed to talk to Ken. I don't know why. I just needed to see him, I guess to get a few things off my chest, you know how we black women are sometimes. Sometimes we just need to go and confront a bitch, even if it’s over a sorry ass excuse of a man like Darren.
When I got there, Ken said he wanted to see me as well. He told me that he and Darren were both gay and actually hearing it aloud made me feel that much better about getting a divorce. I knew no judge would side with his down-low trifling ass and I think Ken could see that I wasn’t surprised in the least. So I showed him the picture. He laughed with his over cocky ass and then proceeded to tell me that they were going to Jamaica in the morning. You can’t even imagine how angry he was, I mean he went FEDS when I told him that I had made plans for Darren and I to leave for Venezuela as well. We talked, Ken and I, and actually bonded on some level.
Shit, I can see why Darren enjoyed his company. Ken was very intelligent, shit, too damn smart for his own good but he was also a great listener, and not bad on the eyes. By the time we were done, we figured out that Darren’s wack ass wasn’t going anywhere with either one of us. He played us both, but we didn't get mad, we got even…real fucking even!
Kenyatta Silver was a smart ass hustler who just also happened to be the Senior Teller Manager at 1st Community Bank and I bet you any kind of money that Darren didn’t know that he w
as also fucking the very straight and married Branch Manager Mr. Connelly, with whom Ken shared a very private, yet mutual relationship with. Ken learned to be a hustler at a very young age, but he had figured out a ageless hustle, that will probably work until the end of time. He figured that if he fucked with a married man and snapped a few pictures of their sexploitations, he could use those flicks to get whatever he wanted. And he was right. You will be surprised at how much a down-low man will pay you not to send his wife a very unsettling picture message. With that in mind, of course Mr. Connelly was on board. So with the Senior Teller Manager and the Branch Manager down for whatever, Ken had complete access to all Darren’s account, meaning he could open new accounts, close accounts, transfer money between accounts, change names on accounts and things of that nature.
So that's exactly what he did, and when he was done, we gave Connelly $1 million and neither of us had any problem splitting the remaining $9 million 80-20 leaving Darren’s trifling ass with nothing. Was this against the law? Hell yes! Did either of us care? Hell No! What was Darren going to do? Call the police and say that his gay lover and wife stole his money? SHIT NAW because that meant he would have to admit that he was gay and we all knew that he would NEVER do that.
With the bank account being emptied, there was only one thing left to do, confront Darren. I really didn't want to because I was petrified of the man. He practically controlled every aspect of my life for seven years, but Ken assured me that he would not let him put a hand on me. Ken may have been gay but he was still a man and just looked like he could hold his own with Darren or any other man for that matter. He was like, “I’m one fierce bitch, but I will fuck somebody up if I have to. Words will be exchanged but ain’t no ASS getting whooped!” I can say that I honestly and whole-heartedly believed him.
When we got to the penthouse, Darren was out on the roof, where he did one of two things; either make all the important decisions in his life, or celebrate some sort of personal victory. I knew he was celebrating because he thought he had won, he thought he was going to get over on me. He thought he was going to get over on Ken, too. We went up together, Kenyatta and I, to greet him and give him the surprise of his life…
*******************
…And that's what happened folks. Darren was a rotten, disrespectful, abuser, and womanizer who was a gay man yet pretending to be homophobic. It was his gigantic ego that ultimately made that last decision for him out on the penthouse roof. I could not believe he was gay. The way he beat the shit out of me whenever the wind blew or hell, whenever he felt like it, was just crazy. And he even had accused me of being a lesbian. I never would have thought it, but now, it all makes sense. It was not that he did not want me to find out. It was the fact that he could not face facts with himself. All that hatred that he spewed at me, at other women, and at gays was all one big internal façade and struggle, which sadly could have been avoided if he had just simply told the truth.
CHAPTER 6 – SISTERHOOD
Sisterhood
I don’t like women.
They don’t like me.
It’s their fault.
My man can’t keep his friend in his pants.
He’s an innocent bystander.
And you,
You’re a home wrecker.
When he asked you for your number,
You could have said NO.
Why did you believe him?
He said he was single.
You should have checked with me.
Everybody knows,
That he’s my man.
And you took him away,
Even though he didn’t
Want to be kept.
CHAPTER 7 – PSA: $3 BILLS
PSA: $3 Bills
ATTENTION:
THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT BROUGHT TO YOU IN PART BY REAL BROTHERS & SISTERS WHO ARE SICK OF WACKTASTIC ASS POSEURS WHO CONSISTENTLY FAKE DA FUNK PLEASE BE ADVISED OF THE CIRCULATION OF $3 BILLS
Be ON THE LOOKOUT for these assholes who love to pass themselves off as GENUINE when they're really just as FAKE as Sara Palin's attempt to trick us into believing she was SMART! They are DRIPPING with PHONY-ness, they SLITHER in SNAKE OIL, and you can smell THE BITCHASSNESS from over a mile away.
Be SUSPICIOUS of any fraudulent pretenders that look REAL, act REAL, feel REAL, and will swear to you they have the same value as a $100 bill but when you try to spend it and call it out on all of its BULLSHIT, it does nothing but collapse and tear and is about as useful as a wet, used, boogered-up piece of tissue! BEWARE!! The $3 Bills come in many shapes and forms including FAUX friends and homies, SUCKTASTIC family members, and CRAPALICIOUS co-workers.
Be CAUTIOUS when having a conversation with these IMPOSTERS. They are constantly offering opinions drowned in HATER-ADE and are known to breed and multiply in MESSINESS, especially insignificant he say-she say bullshit and who gave Becky to whom rumors. They are habitual LIARS and are known for SMILING in your face and TALKING shit about you behind your back for no apparent reason at all. Lately, they have a penchant for using the phrases “LET’S GET IT IN” or “I’M ABOUT TO GET IT IN” pretending to lead an active social life but research proves that this is really nothing more than a DECEPTIVE term for “I’m LONELY & BORED”. They have an overwhelming urge to LIE about insignificant facts to make themselves look and feel better in their attempt to keep it 100.
Be CAREFUL when dating. They are not the relationship type although they disguise themselves as such. They are known for using you for nothing more than SEXUAL GRATIFICATION to gain materialistic things such as money, clothes, dinner, jewelry, etc. They love to FUCK & TELL as they are SNITCHES underneath their MASQUERADE of all that “Keeping it Real” make-up and that “I’m A Real Nigga” mask that they wear on a daily basis. They actually believe that bragging rights about their sexual encounters are a necessity.
They are a total and complete WASTE OF TIME, SPACE & ENERGY as they camouflage themselves to be DIME PIECES but instead they are really LOW BUDGET SWAP MEET HOOD SCRAPES that will give it up for a Subway Sandwich, some Cool Ranch Doritos, a Pepsi, and a pack of Now & Laters. They pretend to be INTELLIGENT, INDEPENDENT, THOUGHT PROVOKING, BALLERS, but that’s really just a smokescreen to conceal the fact that they are usually BROKE ASS INTERNET THUGS who live with their mamas and spend most of the days and late nights being IN-BOX SLUTS & CHAT WHORES.
Be WARY of the $3 Bills in your life!! You might not even know who they are right now, but once they show you WHO they are, BELIEVE them because people don't change into something they never were...that quality or trait was always there…it just wasn't in the forefront…and those inconsiderate bastards know how to hide it well.
REMEMBER: A $3 Bill can only FAKE and PRETEND for so long....weeks, days, months, and even years may go by, but eventually, COUNTERFEIT POSERS are usually not as intelligent as they would have you believe, and ultimately, they get too cocky and end up exposing themselves. FUCKING GENIUSES!
CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED FOLKS…
THAT IT IS ALL…CARRY ON…
CHAPTER 8 – A TEXT OF FATE
A Text of Fate
“Time out! Time out! Damn!” Coach Reed yelled in frustration. He slammed the wipe-easy clipboard on the ground. As the players all began to huddle around the coach, he started speaking. “Gentlemen, listen up. If you’re not going to play defense, let me know right now, cause my beautiful wife is at home in a nice, warm, bed, waiting for me and I’d much rather be at home inside of her, than inside this damn gym watching yall just give up. Now Spivey, you have got to box out down low and Carter when you see him, you’re supposed to cut through. Got it? Tree? Tree?”
Tree was being him typical self, surly, pissed off and not paying attention to the coach during the time out. He was hiding inside of himself, free from everybody and everything surrounding him. He was zoned out.
“Oakes!?” Coach Reed screamed.
“Yeah,” Tree answered half-assed.
“Get
in the game Son. Look fellas, we still have a chance to tie. There are 7 ticks on the clock and we’re down by 2. Wynn, I want you to in bound to Carter, Carter you immediately pass it to Chuck and then go set a screen for Tree. Chuck, after the screen is set, pass it to Tree and we’re headed for overtime baby. Got it? Let’s go get’em. Big Red on 3, Big Red on 3!”
“1, 2, 3, Big Red!”
*******************
The gym was empty and the sound of Tree’s shoes screeching against the hardwood floor along with the ball hitting the rim were the only sounds that could be heard. He was playing against the only person that he felt was better than him: himself. The game had been over for about an hour and he was super pissed off, fuming mad at himself because he missed a shot that could’ve tied the game. Then the gym lights flickered twice, which meant time to go, but Tree ignored the warning and continued to shoot the basketball and fetch his own rebound. That was the first night he saw him.
He appeared it seemed out of thin air, walking slow, pushing a dust mop. “Funny,” Tree thought to himself. “I don’t remember him. Must be new.” He was a tall man, 6’ 3, but much older than the other janitors that worked at the college. He walked slowed and a little hunched over.
“Don’t be so hard on ya self”, he muttered as he pushed his dust mop past Tree.
Urban Diaries Page 4
