by Loc Glin
“Thanks, Mom. I’m starved.”
Nadine piled his plate with eggs and sausage. “Mika, could you butter the toast for me?” she asked.
“Sure thing, Mrs. T.”
“You can call me Nadine, Mika. I don’t mind.”
“Nate calls you Mrs. T.”
“Nate is a man. I need to maintain a certain authority where he is concerned.”
“I get that. Sometimes men cross boundaries when they get to informal. They get too friendly, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t have to worry about men getting friendly like that, at least not anymore, but in my day…” She trailed off, lost in memories. Her face wore a wistful smile.
Mika waited for her to finish what she was saying. When she didn’t, she said, “Mrs. T.? Nadine?”
“She does that sometimes,” Harold explained.
“Does what?”
“Leaves us.”
“Is she all right?” Nadine was just staring into thin air.
“Yeah. She comes out of it quickly. Sometimes she just forgets things.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“We call it her spells. It’s a nice way to say that she is slowly going senile.”
“That sucks. She’s such a nice lady.”
“It does suck, but at least we still have her.” He frowned.
“What? What’s the matter? You look like something’s wrong. Is she okay?”
“Mom is fine. I was thinking about Cecily.”
“Was Nate in love with Cecily? The way he talks about her, you’d think she was an angel.”
“No, at least I don’t think so. I think he says those things for my parents’ sake, especially my mother.” He inclined his head toward Nadine. “They don’t need to be reminded that their daughter was a drug addict and couldn’t stay straight.”
“That’s not how your father made it sound. Postpartum depression can really fuck up your mind.”
His eyebrows knitted. “You really have to watch your mouth. There’s a time and a place for that kind of talk. This is neither.”
She looked chagrined. She looked like she was going to tell him to fuck off, but instead she said, “You’re right.” She looked over at his mother and back to him. “Another time, then?” She smiled. The devilish glint in her eyes said that that time would come soon. Possibly, the very first time that they were alone.
Alone with her? That thought perked him up. He enjoyed pissing her off, and his body seemed to enjoy being around her, too. He was getting hard again. Apparently his body wanted to do more than just piss her off. He realized he wanted to make love to her, or maybe just fuck her. There was a difference, he understood that. Judging by her appearance when she’d arrived, he was pretty sure she was acquainted with, “just fuck her.” Why was he being so hard on Mika? She really hadn’t done anything to him to cause this strong a reaction. A moment of guilt washed over him.
His mother would give him a good lecture if she knew he was thinking like this. She’d tell him, “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” and she would be right. He knew that. Maybe he just wanted to think the worst about women, especially this one. He’d become comfortable thinking the worst about women. It was easier this way. He didn’t rack his brain for the why of his sister’s death anymore. Women lied and weren’t to be trusted. He would never lose his heart to a woman, because Cecily had taken his heart with her when she died.
“Another time then.” He agreed and smiled.
Mika frowned and touched her stomach.
Billy ran into the kitchen. Harold sat down as Billy climbed into a chair. Mika put Harold’s toast on the table. Billy reached for it.
“Not so fast, young man. That is for your uncle,” Nadine scolded.
“But I’m hungry, Nana.”
“So is your uncle. He’s been doing chores.”
Billy sank down into his seat, shoulders slumping and lips pouting. “Sorry, Uncle Harold,” he whined.
Harold leaned over, ruffled the top of Billy’s head and said, “It’s okay, Billy. I’ll tell you what, we’ll share until yours is ready.”
Billy smiled and bobbed in his seat. “Okay.” He reached for the toast Harold handed him.
Nadine smiled. So did Mika. Harold glanced at Mika. To be the cause of that smile made him warm inside. What was that about? He looked away quickly.
Chapter 4
Shamika stood at the sink washing dishes. Rinsing them for the dishwasher would be more accurate. Nadine had told her it wasn’t necessary, but her mother always insisted it be done. “Just rinse the food particles off. We don’t need those pieces of food sloshing around in the machine. It isn’t that difficult.” She could hear her mother as clearly as if she was standing next to her. Memories of her childhood and family life seemed to spring to the surface quite readily here. This place reminded her of her home. A home she was realizing she truly missed.
Being around little Billy was fun. She used to babysit to earn some extra money. She’d forgotten how much she’d enjoyed it.
Three days had come and gone since she’d arrived here. Things had fallen in place easily. She helped around the house and took care of Billy. She was even starting to help with the outside chores just to keep busy. She closed the door to the dishwasher, locked it, and turned it on. “I’m going to gather some eggs, Nadine,” she said.
Nadine lifted her head from her crocheting. “Have fun.”
“I wouldn’t consider it fun,” she whispered with a quick glance at Nadine. “I will,” she said loud enough for Nadine to hear.
Nadine’s head bent back to her crocheting.
Shamika noticed the nimble fingers and crochet needle flashing in a steady rhythm. She opened the screen door and stepped outside. She had a small basket to carry the eggs in her hand. As she approached the chicken coop, the rooster began to strut his stuff. He pumped out his chest and flapped his wings a few times, he even crowed. “Just like a man,” she said with a sardonic smile upon her lips.
Nate appeared in the barn door. Maybe the rooster’s noise caused him to come out and take a look. He waved and said, “Come over here, Mika. I want to show you something.” Then he retreated into the barn.
Mika put the basket down and went to the barn door.
“Where are you?” she called into the dimly lit space.
“I’m back here.” He stepped out of a stall so she could see him.
“What do you want?” She peered into the gloom as her eyes focused.
“Come back here.” He motioned her to come. “I want to show you something.” He disappeared into the stall.
“I hate it when people do that,” she muttered as she moved toward the stall.
Nate grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. He pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss.
“I’ve been waiting to get you alone.” He squeezed her ass as he held her.
She put her hands on his shoulders. Just as she was ready and about to begin to berate Nate she heard a snide remark. She turned her head and saw Harold standing in the stall entrance.
“I could have bet money I’d see you two screwing around.” Harold’s voice was filled with disgust. His eyes were filled with anger, or maybe it was hatred. He stormed away before she could reply.
“Fuck,” she said as she pushed Nate away from her.
“What’s the matter? I thought—”
“You thought wrong, Nate.”
“I don’t think so.” Nate pulled her back into his arms.
“Nate, I’m warning you.”
“Come on, Mika. You know you want me.”
She had to laugh. “You’re full of yourself, are you?”
“I just know how women react to me, and you are a woman, Mika.” He looked down at her breasts. “A lot of woman.”
Did he just lick his lips? She pushed him away again. This time he held her tight. “Let me go, Nate,” she growled.
“I don’t think so.” He pressed his hips into her. �
��I want you. Can’t you tell?”
She could tell. His bulging organ was quite apparent. “What you want and what you’re going to get are two different things.”
He wasn’t paying attention to her. He was chasing her lips, trying to capture them in a kiss as she was moving her head away from him. He moved his left hand to the back of her head to keep it still.
Now she was pissed. She put her right hand on the forearm of the hand around the back of her neck. She smiled.
“That’s it, baby, you’re gonna like this.”
She moved her left hand to cover the back of the hand holding her head. She slipped her fingers under his palm and wrist. She continued to smile. “But you’re not,” she hissed, trying not to lose her temper. She pressed down on his forearm and lifted his palm from her neck, twisting his wrist, forcing him to release her. His body turned away from her to escape the pressure and pain. She put both of her thumbs on the back of his hand and pressed downward, forcing his wrist to bend even further in an unnatural direction.
“Fuck, Mika, you’re hurting me.”
She pressed a little harder. “The next time I tell you to let me go and you don’t, I will break it.”
He howled in pain. “There won’t be a next time.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” She pressed harder. “Promise?”
“I promise, I promise. Now let me go,” he pleaded.
She released his hand and stepped away from him.
He straightened up. He rubbed and flexed his wrist. “Damn, who taught you how to do that?”
“A friend. In New York, a girl has to know how to defend herself.”
“Well, you certainly know how to do that.” He shook his hand. “Damn, that hurt.”
“The street can be a dangerous place.”
“Don’t I know it. I’ve been mugged a few times myself.”
“As strong as you are?” she scoffed.
“I wasn’t always built like this. Since I got here I sort of filled out.”
She ran her eyes over him appreciatively. “It looks good on you.”
“But you don’t want me.”
“You’re not my type.”
“What is your type?”
She thought about that question for a moment. “I don’t know. I haven’t met anyone that can turn my insides to mush yet.”
“I wish I was that guy, but it doesn’t look like I’m gonna make the cut.”
“At this rate, I don’t think anyone ever will. I’ve known a lot of men in my time.”
“I thought so. No offense, but a girl with a body like yours wouldn’t have a problem making a living with it. Cecily certainly didn’t. I thought she was happy and doing well. Then one day she just decided to go home. I really missed her. After she left I hit rock bottom.”
“Was she your lover?”
“She was a good friend. We were friends with benefits.” He smiled sheepishly. “We liked each other but we weren’t in love.”
“Do her mother and father know?”
“About the benefits?”
“No, about her hooking.”
“I try to avoid anything about that part of Cecily’s life. Hugo knows and so does Harold. I don’t think Nadine does, but she might. She is a pretty smart lady.”
“That might explain Harold’s attitude.”
“Toward you?”
“Yeah. He hates me.”
“He acts like he hates all women. I think it’s a defense mechanism. I see him looking at you. Believe me, he doesn’t hate you. I’d say his feelings are far from hate.”
Shamika snorted. “Right, and pigs can fly.”
He shrugged. “Believe whatever you like.”
“I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be gathering eggs.”
“No hard feelings?” he offered.
Shamika looked at Nate’s crotch. “Not from me.” She left the barn chuckling.
Chapter 5
“Mika will want to leave with me tomorrow,” Hugo said.
Hugo and Nadine were sitting on the porch in the front of the house. The sun was riding low in the west. A few clouds with an underbelly of grey dotted the early twilight of the horizon. Streaks of pink and orange colored the sky, changing the grey to purple in places.
“I know,” Nadine agreed.
“I wish there was a way to change her mind.” Hugo leaned forward. Elbows on his knees, he cupped his chin in the palms of his hands and drummed his fingers on the side of his face near his cheekbones.
“So, you see the way Harold looks at her, too?” Nadine was smiling.
“He’s got it bad.” Hugo leaned back and returned his wife’s smile.
“It’s funny to watch him. First he looks angry. Then he looks like you used to look just before we made love. Then he shakes his head and gets angry again.” She sighed. “Do you think he’s angry with her, or with himself?”
“A little of both.” Hugo chuckled.
“Maybe she’d stay if she thought we needed her,” Nadine mused.
“Maybe.”
“Hugo, get the ace bandage.”
“Why?”
“I just sprained my wrist,” Nadine said with a devilish twinkle in her eye.
Hugo looked at her strangely, then her meaning sank in. “You certainly did. Don’t move, I know how much it hurts.” He kissed her cheek and chuckled as he went to the medicine chest.
“What happened, Mrs. T.?” Shamika asked when she saw the bandage covering Nadine’s wrist and hand. Only Nadine’s fingers were visible.
Nadine leaning heavily on her cane, hobbled to the table. She sat down, and put the bandaged hand on the tabletop. “I twisted my wrist. I think it’s sprained. It hurts when I move my fingers.”
“Is it broken? Maybe you should go to the doctor and have him check it out,” Shamika said.
“It’s not broken, child. The doctor isn’t necessary.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you should come into town with us when we go.”
“I’ll be fine. It will be difficult for me to take care of everything alone, though.” Nadine sighed, a sad forlorn sound.
Shamika nodded. Her face looked a little on edge.
“I hate to ask, but would you consider staying to help us out? Just until this feels a little better.” Nadine lifted her arm. She put the best motherly guilt building expression on her face that she could muster.
Shamika closed her eyes. “I knew you were going to ask that,” she whispered. She opened her eyes. “I suppose I could stay another week. You’ve been so good to me it’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you. You’re a good girl, Mika.”
The next morning Shamika watched Hugo drive away. Another week! She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Oddly enough she was starting to like it here. That was dangerous. When she left these people she would go back to her city life. Did she really want to go back to that life? Is that the reason she gave in to staying another week without much of an argument? The life she lived in NYC was going nowhere and there was no future in it. Her career, or rather her dream of a career, had tanked. It died an agonizing death years ago. She just refused to bury it.
Being here this last week had started her thinking about her life. New York, she had no great love for the place, in fact she was tired of it. She’d had it with the dirty streets and uncaring, judgmental people. She was sick to death of swearing and sounding like a street whore. Most of all she was tired of scratching out a living selling her body.
How she’d managed to keep her self-respect this long was beyond her. Maybe it was due to the fact that she was her own boss. She didn’t have a pimp that forced her to do things she didn’t want to do. It was increasingly difficult to keep that independence. It would be impossible if she used drugs. She’d seen too many women ruined because of drug addiction, and she’d seen too many die.
She had a small following of loyal clients she’d established over the years. They paid her enough to keep her bills up to date and sh
e’d managed to save a nest egg. So, she didn’t have to work the streets. Her johns were, for the most part, good men. They liked sex. Lucky for her nothing too kinky. She could do kinky, but it made her feel dirty. She could live with what her men required. Anal sex once in a while, blow jobs, the occasional spanking, or dress-up role-playing. Sometimes they used toys, nothing violent, or dark and disturbing. They didn’t care about her pleasure, but sometimes she achieved an orgasm. Even though she wasn’t emotionally attached to them, she did at least like them. There was never a question about her relationship with them. She knew her place, and so did they.
Shamika didn’t have a boyfriend. She’d given up even thinking about that possibility a long time ago. City boys just didn’t turn her on. What they had to offer, she didn’t want. They were soft, and usually did drugs, or they were like Nate, so self-absorbed they couldn’t see anything except themselves. How could someone like that actually care about another person? No, she was happy without a boyfriend.
About five years ago she thought she’d met a possibility. Eli had been different. He was handsome and smart. He’d been working on his master’s degree in financial economics. They went out a few times. When she told him what she did for a living he didn’t freak out on her. Her profession had been a problem with other men in the past. Eli didn’t seem to mind. They’d dated for two years. She let her guard down and began to hope they had a future together. Eli never led her to believe that they would, but he hadn’t made her feel that they wouldn’t either. They’d talked about his hopes and dreams often enough. So when he graduated and left, she’d been shocked. He’d made her feel more used and dirty than any john ever had. “Thanks for the good time,” he’d said. “You are the best piece of ass I’ve ever had.” He’d leaned over to kiss her after he’d said that.
She still remembered the wave of emotions that coursed through her at that moment. She’d been devastated, her heart broken and her feelings trampled on. She’d been insulted, and she’d felt ashamed. She was used to being defensive, so her anger came almost instantly. She punched him in the gut with her knuckles in a karate movement. When he bent forward in pain, the heel of her palm connected with his chin in an upward stroke. His startled and pained expression gave her some measure of enjoyment. But the anger that had registered on his face when she said, “I wish I could say the same about you,” actually made her feel so good that she’d smiled and wanted to laugh at him. She’d turned and walked away before her tears began to fall.
