by BlaQue
“That’s the shit I’m talking about, Dunny. You keep living in the past and it’s time for you to move the fuck on. You can’t keep making excuses for what happened back then. I ain’t saying that shit wasn’t crazy; but it’s over. It’s time to let that shit go. Stop wasting your life away. You ain’t got much more time to do shit else with your life. This gig Queen hooked you up with might be your way to put that shit behind you and still do what you love without regret.
You ain’t seen your daughter in seventeen years, nigga. You ain’t picked up a mic and you ain’t dropped no bars on shit in years. You need to get over it and move on. When the shit first happened with NiQue, we left you alone because we couldn’t imagine what you were going through losing your girl like that. When you walked away from your daughter, we didn’t know you were never gonna look back. We thought you just needed time. Queen and I know we made a mistake letting you just walk away. No real man walks away from their child no matter how fucked up the circumstances are. You might not be able to right all the wrongs my nigga…but you can still live. You ain’t gotta die alone in our guesthouse. This shouldn’t be your ending. The curtain ain’t closed on you yet, Dunny,” Crack said. He had never come at me like this about my life.
“I don’t know how to make the shit right. If I knew…don’t you think I would? I don’t even know where to begin,” I countered.
“That’s bullshit and just another excuse. You got a way to start over and at least work on fixing your life. I ain’t asking you no more. I’m telling you to get your shit together or else I can’t stand by and watch you kill yourself slowly slurping from a bottle and fucking these nothing ass bitches who don’t want shit but a piece of your royalties that don’t really amount to shit but a way for you to half ass pay us rent on the guesthouse and stay high and drunk! You’re gonna be at Howard U on Monday to teach that seminar, or else I’m gonna have to ask you to get your shit and go,” Crack said sternly.
I couldn’t believe my boy was leaning on me like this. I knew everything he was saying was true, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. I sat down on the chair across from Crack and put my head in my hands.
“I just keep thinking about what if YaYa had never died. How would my shit have been if she would have gotten that letter to me in time and I had gone to Georgia with her? What if I would have never fucked with NiQue? What if, my nigga? What if?” I asked, trying to keep myself from breaking down.
“You wouldn’t have a child out there somewhere. You can’t worry about the what ifs now. You can only move on now. Maybe you can right all your wrongs and stop living in regret,” Crack said, standing up and walking to the door. He opened the front door and before he walked out, he turned around and looked in my direction one last time. “Queen said the first seminar starts at nine on Monday morning. That should give you time to come up with whatever it is you need to come up with to do what you gotta do. If you don’t, I expect you and your things to be gone from this guesthouse by 9:01,” Crack said, walking out the door and slamming it shut behind him.
I knew my friend was tired of my shit and if I didn’t do what he and Queen wanted, I was going to be checking into a shelter Monday evening and that was something I definitely wasn’t doing.
I took another long swig from the bottle and grimaced from the bitter taste of the warm liquid that always seemed to bring me so much comfort. But this time, the alcohol didn’t have the effect it normally did for me. Instead, it made me realize that everything my oldest friend had said about me was nothing but the truth.
I spent the rest of my day figuring out how I was going to pull this seminar off on Monday even though I really didn’t want to have anything to do with any of it, but I really had no choice unless I wanted to be looking for somewhere else to lay my head..
Maybe Crack was right. Maybe it was time for me to move on.
Chapter Twelve
I-85
Pinky York
I pulled into a Quick Trip gas station and filled up my tank on my bike. According to my GPS, I was only a few miles outside of Atlanta. I still hadn’t figured out what I was doing here. I had driven nine hours to Georgia from D.C. on a whim. I took my pink helmet off and fished around in my back pocket for the admission form I had copied with Neko’s address on it and read the address again.
I had never been the type to pine away for a man, but there was something special about Neko. He’s worth this, I thought as I folded the paper and stuffed it back into the pocket of my jeans.
I went inside the gas station and paid for my gas and bought a small coffee. I had driven all the way here without resting and the nine hour ride was starting to take its toll on me. As I walked out to pump my gas, I passed by a middle-aged Latina woman who was on her phone while she headed back to her own vehicle. I don’t know why I noticed her or why I even paid her any mind at all. My eyes followed her as she switched in her designer shades and expensive attire. I watched as she got into her late model Benz; that’s when I noticed she wasn’t alone. There was a young woman on the passenger side of the car who instantly grabbed my attention.
The young woman was staring at me and I don’t know why she seemed so eerily familiar to me. Her grey eyes peered at me, making me feel like I didn’t belong there. The way she watched me made me feel naked. I had never been one to be intimidated by anyone, but the way the young woman looked at me made a cold chill run up my spine. A voice from the corner of my mind told me to turn around and go home. The young woman continued to watch me even as the Latina woman in the driver’s seat cranked up the engine and pulled away. The girl’s stare followed me long after they had left the gas station and turned on to the interstate. From where I was standing watching the tail lights of the Benz, I could see them get on the ramp marked north.
A loud click from the hose that was inserted into my tank signaled that the tank of my bike was full and it snapped me back to reality. I topped off my tank, hopped on my bike and headed into the city of Atlanta to look for a hotel. I needed to rest and gather my thoughts before I faced Neko. I had no idea what I was going to say to him once we were face to face. It had been seventeen long years. I hadn’t even thought about if he were to turn me away. Then this whole trip would have been for nothing.
I drove through Atlanta in amazement. I had always had thoughts that the A was nothing but country folks with laid back attitudes and southern charm. I was wrong. It reminded me of D.C. with its long winding highways and huge buildings that seemed like they kissed the sky. The traffic was just as bad as Drama City’s and the people were just as rude too. There was nothing country about the residents except their southern drawl.
When I made it to the Holiday Inn at the airport I was amped up. I should have been ready to rest, but I was wide awake. I blamed it on the coffee I had before I got into the city. I checked into my room and showered and went to the information desk in the lobby to inquire about some hot spots around town. The clerk told me about a new spot in Stockbridge about twenty minutes from the hotel that was supposed to be poppin’. She said all the reality television stars hung out there.
The clerk gave me directions to the G Street Bar and Lounge and went about her business checking other guests in. I took the piece of paper she had written the directions on and put them in my GPS and made my way through the city until I pulled up in front of the bar. I killed the engine on my bike and strolled in the doors of the bar. The first thing I noticed upon entering was the big screen televisions and the pool tables that covered the majority of the establishment. The entire bar was packed from wall to wall with people. After shuffling through few hundred people, I made my way to the bar and tried to get one of the three bartender’s attention. They were running back and forth pouring drinks, taking orders and scooping up tips left behind from other patrons. When I was about to give up on my mission to get a drink, a gentleman in his late thirties or early forties called out to one of the bartenders. The scantily-dressed woman behind the bar quickly made her way down
to where the man was standing next to me.
“What can I get for you, Mr. Hudson?” the woman said, batting her long, false lashes.
“I think our guest wants to order a drink,” the man said to the woman who just a few minutes before had completely ignored me.
The woman took my order and offered her apologies and went about her business of fulfilling my order.
“I apologize for the service this evening. We have several celebrity authors in the building this evening so it’s kind of crazy in here,” the man explained in his southern drawl.
“Damn…authors pull in this type of crowd? Maybe I’ve been in the wrong business all my life,” I said dryly.
“What kind of business are you in?” the stranger asked me, making casual conversation and holding me captive with his friendly demeanor.
I started to speak then I stopped and thought long and hard about what I was about to say. “Maybe I should write a book about what I do…I mean, what I did…” I said chuckling.
“Maybe you should. If you’ve got a story to tell, then maybe you should tell it. The question is: is it a good story?” Mr. Hudson asked, smiling an infectious smile that caused me to smile back at him.
“I don’t know if anyone would even be interested in reading it if I were to write it.”
“As long as the story is good, trust me, people will read it,” the man said.
“How do you know? Are you and expert in that field? Besides, I wouldn’t know how my story would even end,” I said to him flatly.
He didn’t say anything. He pulled out a business card which read George Sherman Hudson, CEO of G Street Entertainment. “As long as you’ve got a good story, people will read it. Once you work on that ending, give me a call. We’ll see about getting that book turned into something special,” he said.
Just before I started to ask him another question, the bartender made her way back with my drink and placed it and the tab in front of me. Mr. Hudson slid the tab back over to the bartender and told her that my tab was on the house. The bartender rolled her eyes and sauntered away. She probably knew there would be no tip for her included in that tab.
“I got your drinks tonight since you had troubles getting your drink in the first place. Make sure you work on that ending and once you have it just right, give us a call. Everyone has at least one good story to tell,” Mr. Hudson winked and walked away.
I turned the card over and read that the man who so graciously paid for my drink was into music, books, publishing, movies and other seemingly lucrative ventures. When I looked up to ask the mystery man a question, he had dipped off into the crowd of people. I tucked his card into my bra and thought about what I had said to him. My life would make good book or movie; but as I had said before, I didn’t know how it was going to play out. Hopefully, I would get my happy ending before I left Atlanta and then I would have a great story to tell.
After several drinks and purchasing a few books from the authors who were inside the bar hustling, I left. I had to get back to my hotel and rest so I could be ready to make my way to Neko and hopefully my destiny.
* * * * *
The next morning I got up early and got dressed. Today was the day that I had done all of this driving for; I was going to see Neko. I had no real plan of action and that scared me. When I pulled up in front of his three-story home that sat on the outskirts of Atlanta, I was a bit hesitant. I even thought about turning around and going back to D.C. I must’ve been crazy for coming all this way on impulse. I got off of my bike walked up the walkway and stood in front of the door trying to make up my mind. I didn’t know if I should stay or go. I was about to hop on my bike and leave when the front door of the house opened and Neko walked out on the porch. When our eyes connected it was if he had seen a ghost. The cup of coffee he was holding in his hands slipped from his hands and smashed against the concrete into a million pieces. The warm liquid spattered all over my legs and clothes. We stood there eyeing each other for what felt like an eternity, but neither one of us said a word.
I inspected his face and it was definitely Neko. He hadn’t changed much. His grey eyes were still intense and inviting. The only difference was that he had aged a little and now he sported a beard that had a few flecks of grey hair that shone through; giving him a distinguished look.
“It can’t be,” he muttered. He was clearly shocked to see me. After all, I was dead as far as he knew.
I tossed my signature long pink locks to the side and swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. “I didn’t mean to pop up on you unexpectedly, Neko, but I had to find you. I needed to see you. I had to get my ending,” I stammered. I knew I sounded like a lunatic, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Pinky? But you’re dead! I mean…they said you were dead. What kind of game is this?” he asked confused, but never taking his eyes off of me. I felt uneasy from the way he scanned me from head to toe as if to make sure I wasn’t an imposter.
“It’s no game, Neko. I’m very much alive. I came here from D.C. to see you. I needed to get some closure and my…ending…” my voice trailed off. I never rehearsed what I was going to say to him. I knew I sounded foolish and wasn’t making a bit of sense to him.
“But the police said you died seventeen years ago, Pinky. How did you end up on my porch in Georgia?” he asked confused.
I shook my head back and forth. I hated hearing him say he thought I was dead. My head started to throb. I felt one of those damn headaches coming on. I rubbed my temples and looked at Neko with pleading eyes. I needed him to hear me out.
“No, Neko. The police told you I was dead to protect me. They said they were protecting me from whoever tried to kill me back then. If you give me a few minutes, I can explain,” I said, hoping he would give me the time I so desperately needed to explain what happened.
“Yeah, Pinky I think you should explain. Explain why you are just showing up after all this time. Explain how you even found me. Why now? After all this time…why now?”
I swallowed the bile that was trying to make its way up and out. I didn’t have the answers he wanted and deserved. I had come here on a whim. Before I could find the right words to say, Neko grabbed me by my elbow and pulled me into the house. Once I was inside, I watched as he stuck his head out the front door to make sure no one saw him pull me inside. The first thing I noticed once we were inside was the pictures that lined the foyer. I thought for sure I was going to blow chunks on the floor. The first picture I saw was a picture of Neko and the same Latina woman I had seen the night before at the Quick Trip. It was his wife. What were the odds that I had run into her the night before? The next picture that I saw was a framed graduation photo of the same young woman who had accompanied his wife the night before. I don’t know how I hadn’t seen it before. The young woman was his niece YaSheema Nicole. I knew she looked familiar when I saw her last night, but I hadn’t been able to put two and two together. I was so concerned with the woman driving the Benz that I didn’t take the time to see that his niece was staring me in the face.
“Pinky…Pinky…”
I snapped out of my thoughts and focused in on Neko who was calling my name. He was trying to get me to follow him. We entered into a sitting room that was big enough for me to fit my entire apartment in. I took a seat on the beautiful white couch and tried to fight the urge to get up and run out of there. I knew I didn’t belong there. The pictures that lined his hallway told me so. I had no place in his life. He had moved on without me and I was sitting there looking crazy, chasing hopes and dreams of being with a man that had gone on with his life. I mean…what was he supposed to do…pine away for me forever? I was dead as far as he knew. I guess I wanted him to be in love with me forever.
Neko took a seat next to me and his eyes peered at me with so much confusion and curiosity it made me cower away from him just a bit when he reached for my hand. “Pinky, I have so many questions. Where have you been the last seventeen years that you’re just now reaching ou
t to me?” Neko asked tenderly.
The way he stroked my hand put me at ease. I calmed down just a bit and swallowed the lump that formed in my throat and prevented me from speaking. “Neko, the last night I spoke with you, I was in a horrible accident. I was on my way to see you when the brakes on my bike gave out and I was struck by a truck. When I woke up in the hospital days later, my life was different. The police were all around and they said you tried to find me but they told you that I was dead. They said they had done it to protect me,” I said getting misty eyed reliving how my life was stolen from me.
“I don’t understand why would they tell me you were dead?”
I cleared my throat and wiped the tears that were threatening to break free like a sweet Georgia rain. “Someone tried to kill me that night. I don’t know who, but someone cut my brake line on my bike and at that moment, the assassin became the target. Someone tried to take me out. They didn’t count on me surviving that accident; and if I had known my life would have been like this, I would rather have died,” I said truthfully.
There was no controlling the tears now. I let them fall freely, unashamed of how I looked at that moment. I was always myself with Neko and now was no different. He knew who I really was deep down inside and I never had to front or pretend with him. He had always allowed me to be a woman. He never judged me for anything I had ever done; not my career choices or anything else.
Neko reached up and wiped the tears from my face so gently I instantly remembered why I loved him. He was so completely different from any man I had ever met. Even with his father’s blood coursing through his veins, he was totally opposite of his entire family. They were ruthless thugs, but Neko had a sweet and gentle air about him that soothed me. Don’t get me wrong…he was definitely cut from the same cloth as his murderous sister YaYa, and he was a lover like his father the late Darnell Clayton, but he was a bit softer and maybe that was why I found myself attracted to him. Neko had that dirty Clayton DNA; however, he didn’t let his family ties lead him astray.
