Stalker

by Brenda Hampton

  “No, Brent. This was a good day. Let’s not end it with blood splatter.”

  Fear was in Brent’s eyes. He showed what a coward he was—he also showed what a weak man he was too. Our eyes stayed connected as I backed up to the door, and once he was out of my sight, I jetted out the front door, hiding behind a bush while hurrying into my clothes. I then pranced down the dark street, as if I was going for a relaxing walk. When I reached my car, I got in and sped off like a bat out of hell. I suspected that Brent was coming for me.

  Chapter Nine

  As usual, I was right. Brent was at my house on Thursday, knocking on my door. All I did was take a photo of him before he walked away. He called my cell phone, but I didn’t answer. I waited until ten or fifteen minutes after he left, and then I headed to Clinton’s apartment to see if he would go bowling with me. I was sure that was where Brent would be, and if he wanted to talk, he’d have to talk to me with my new man around. Hopefully, Clinton would be home when I stopped by. More than anything, I hoped he used the money I’d given him to clean himself up a bit.

  I parked my car in front of Clinton’s apartment. He was outside, sitting next to a man who looked high as hell. Clinton stood to greet me, and as I walked their way, I could smell marijuana smoke in the air. I coughed a bit to clear my throat.

  “Hello, Clinton,” I said.

  “What’s up? I’ve been waiting for you to come back down and holla at me. I thought you were supposed to get at me last week.”

  “I was, but something came up. I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought I would stop by. I need you to look at my basement for me, again, and let me know how much you would charge me to frame it. I can get someone to put up the drywall. I just need some specific ideas about how it should be framed.”

  “You know I can do that for you. I can put up the drywall for you too. That will be no problem at all.”

  “Great. Maybe you can come by sometime this weekend and look at everything for me. Meanwhile, I was on my way to the bowling alley. Would you and Velma like to go with me?”

  He quickly shook his head. “I know Velma wouldn’t, but I don’t mind going.”

  “Where is she? Is she here?”

  “She’s upstairs watching TV, I think.”

  “Will she be okay with you leaving?”

  Clinton looked at the man who was sitting in a lawn chair on the porch. “Cover for me, Ray. I’ll be right back. Tell her I went somewhere with your cousin if she asks.”

  The man nodded. Clinton and I walked away. After he got in the car, I looked at the filthy tennis shoes he wore and the T-shirt that had food stains on it. His cargo shorts were nice, but he had to come a little better than this. As for his hair, it needed another cut too. I wasn’t sure what he’d done with the money I’d given him, and I didn’t hesitate to ask. He didn’t hesitate to reply.

  “Shit, I paid some bills with it. Rent was due, the electric was up for disconnection, and food is getting very expensive.”

  “I’m with you on that, but I wish you would have bought something nice for yourself. When is the last time you purchased something nice for you?”

  “It’s been a minute. I try to catch deals at the flea market. They be having some nice jeans, shorts, and shirts there. I haven’t made my way over there yet, and besides, I’m fresh out of cash. The last thing I purchased was a bag of weed. That broke me.”

  “So, you get high?”

  He turned his head, looking at me as if I had just called him out of his name. “Hell, yeah, I smoke weed. Everybody smokes weed. Don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t. Am I supposed to?”

  “Man, you are missing out. I don’t do any of that other shit, but weed is a must.”

  “If you say so. I just wouldn’t take my last dollars to purchase any. I’d rather have clothes, food, or a decent haircut instead of that. Speaking of haircuts, is there a place around here where I can get my hair trimmed?”

  He looked at my hair and paid me a compliment. The truth is, I wanted him to get his hair cut. Maybe, just maybe, I would do the same.

  “Your hair is always hooked up. It doesn’t look like you need to go to the barbershop to me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about getting it trimmed low. A friend of mine has hers shaved off, and it looks real nice. Do you think that style would look nice on me?”

  Clinton nodded. “You’re a beautiful woman. Any style would look good on you.”

  He made me smile, then gave me directions to a barbershop that was several blocks away. Just my luck, there was a guy outside selling T-shirts. I pretended as if I wanted to purchase a few of them, and then I asked Clinton if he wanted one.

  “Nah, I’m good. I don’t want you spending your money on me.”

  “I’m not spending my money on you. You’re going to repay me when you complete my basement. Pick out a few shirts you like. And if you see anything Velma may like, get her one too.”

  That surely got him looking through the shirts. They were two for twenty-five dollars, so he picked out one for him and one for her.

  “Thanks,” he said, putting on the clean shirt. “I owe you.”

  “Yes, you do. And I intend to get everything that is due.”

  He opened the door for me to enter the barbershop. I put my name on the short list to get my hair cut, and then I asked Clinton if he wanted to get his cut too, since we were there.

  “Yeah, that’s cool. Go ahead and put my name down.”

  Clinton and I waited about fifteen minutes before our names were called. And after all was said and done, I left the barbershop with my head trimmed low. Clinton got a sharp lining and trimming that made his hair, as well as his facial hair, look spectacular. The only thing he needed was shoes. I didn’t trip because as soon as we got to the bowling alley, he would have to swap those out for bowling shoes.

  “You really should keep your hair like that at all times,” I said as I drove off. “You look so handsome, and if you don’t mind me saying, you’ll have any woman you want if you keep looking like that.”

  “I have the woman I want. Period. The end. She’s it. Your cut looks nice too. I must say that I was a little skeptical, but you working that, mama.”

  His compliments could one day be very rewarding, but since he thought Velma was all that, and then some, I didn’t push. Instead, I drove to the bowling alley, talking to him about what I wanted done to my basement. I actually wasn’t going to have him do anything this time. I didn’t want my basement finished, and eventually, I’d find a way to weasel out of it.

  Clinton and I walked into the bowling alley together. It was crowded, but there were still open lanes. There were two or three leagues in the far corner. I knew Brent was in one of those groups. I asked the man behind the counter for a lane that was as close to them as possible.

  “When is the last time you bowled?” I asked Clinton.

  “Probably since the last time you smoked some weed. Which is never.”

  “Really? Why did you come with me then? I thought you knew how to bowl.”

  “I just wanted to get away from the crib. Been cooped up all week and I needed to get out.”

  I gave Clinton his pair of bowling shoes, then removed mine from the counter. We walked away to go to our lane. “Have you and Velma been into it again?”

  “All day, every day. She likes to argue, but I’m good at ignoring her.”

  “If that works for you, so be it. I’ve just never known a man who likes to be yelled at all the time.”

  Clinton shrugged, refusing to say anything else about Velma. We put on our shoes, and as we sat next to each other, I showed him how the tally sheet worked.

  “Okay,” he said. “Are you going first or me?”

  “I’ll go first. You can watch how I do it. And if you look real careful, you just may learn something.”

  He laughed, and so did I. I stepped up, wearing tight jeans and a shirt that was cut at my midriff. My new hairstyle was the bomb—Bren
t’s wife couldn’t compete if she tried. I rolled the ball down the lane, but only knocked down seven pens. On my first attempt, a strike would’ve made me feel better. I pouted and pivoted to look at the busy groups of leagues bowling. I saw Brent sitting down, but he was indulged in a conversation with another bowler. Sooner or later, I was sure he would see me. Until then, I took another shot at knocking the pins down, but my second ball went into the gutter. I snapped my fingers.

  “Shoot! I guess I’m a little rusty today.”

  “Sure,” Clinton said, standing. “That’s what they all say.”

  It was his turn. He stood with great posture, looking sexier than I ever thought he could. I loved to look at his smooth legs and toned calves. He rolled the ball down the lane with much power. And sure enough, on his first try, he got a strike.

  “This is BS, and you know it,” I said. “You already knew how to bowl, didn’t you?”

  He laughed, and I playfully punched his arm. Now that I was aware that he knew how to bowl, the competition was on. We were in a battle to win. I was going for all strikes, and so was he. Too bad, though, that he was winning. I pouted and rolled my eyes, after he got another strike.

  “Don’t be so bitter, li’l mama,” he said. “The look doesn’t suit you. Smile, be happy and be well.”

  Clinton chuckled, so did I. We were having so much fun that I finally took a moment to look Brent’s way. And sure enough, his eyes were looking in our direction. I cut my eyes at him, and then I got back to my game with Clinton. Now that I knew Brent was looking, I was all over Clinton. I laughed as if we were having the best time ever. We also did a whole lot of trash talking about who would win the game.

  “It damn sure won’t be you,” he said. “You are too far behind now. And after this strike, you can forget it.”

  Clinton released the ball, but before he did, I playfully jumped on his back to distract him. The ball rolled down the lane and went right into the gutter.

  “Cheater,” he said as I got down and backed away from him. “All you do is cheat, cheat, cheat! I can’t wait until you take your turn. I’ma mess up your game too.”

  “That may have to wait. I need to run to the ladies’ room real quick. I’ve been holding it for a while, so wait, okay?”

  “Sure. Take your time.”

  I saw Brent looking at us time and time again. And just in case he was still watching, I made my way to the restroom. I didn’t even have to go, but I washed my hands and dabbed just a little more gloss on my lips to make them shiny. When I exited the bathroom, Brent was right there waiting for me.

  “Listen,” he said, trying to keep a calm voice. “You and I need to talk. Can you go outside with me for a minute?”

  “I honestly don’t want to, because I don’t—”

  “Please. This is important. We have got to clear this up right now.”

  I cut my eyes at him and crossed my arms. “Sure. But make it quick, Brent. My boyfriend will be looking for me, if I’m gone too long.”

  Brent walked toward the exit sign that was only a few feet away. I followed. When we got outside, we stood next to the building. He was in front of me, while my back was against the wall.

  “I seriously think you need to get some help,” he said. “You’re doing things that seem so out of character for you. I don’t know if I just didn’t know much about you or not. Nonetheless, the way you’re acting is, is really scary. I’m afraid something bad is going to happen if you don’t stop this.”

  I looked at him with a smirk on my face. “So, I’m the one who needs some help, even though you’re the one who thought it was a bright idea to fuck with my head, make me love you, and then tell me to go to hell? No, Brent. You’re the one who needs help. None of this would be happening if you hadn’t done what you did. I’m just making you pay for hurting me, and once I feel as if you’re really sorry for what you did, I’ll fall back and leave you alone. The good thing is, my other man is taking my mind off you. So, you may get your wish. It just won’t be any time soon.”

  “Well, it needs to be because my wife is getting real irritated with you. She’s losing her patience, and she’s to the point where she’s talking about killing you. I don’t want you to get hurt, so back off. Do it now, and if you need for me to say I’m sorry for how I treated you, I will say it. I’m sorry, okay? I should have handled myself a lot better than I did.”

  I clapped my hands. “That’s wonderful, Brent. Thanks for the apology, but you’re a little too late. If you’re really sorry, drop the charges against me so I don’t have to go to court. If you do that, then I’ll really know you’re sincere.”

  He swallowed, then looked down at the ground. His hands were in his pockets; he was in deep thought. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why? Because your wife wants you to see it through, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, so I can’t back out of it.”

  I shrugged. “Well, I’ll see you in court then. Next week, right? I hope she’ll be with you, because my man will definitely be with me.”

  I walked away, leaving Brent outside with his thoughts. He yelled out, “Nice hair. The style looks good on you and on my wife as well.”

  I couldn’t help but to fire back at him. “It probably does, but it’s apparent that she has no idea how to fuck you and keep you. If she did, you wouldn’t have allowed your dick to stay in my mouth. For the record, the fight you put up wasn’t worth a damn.”

  I opened the door and went inside. When I returned to the lane where Clinton was, he asked what had taken so long.

  “One of my girlfriends from high school was in the restroom running her mouth. I couldn’t get away from her for nothing in the world.”

  Clinton laughed. We continued our game, and when it was over, he was the victorious one. He wouldn’t stop boasting. Even when we got in the car, he continued to brag about how badly he had beaten me.

  “Choose any sport,” he said. “Even volleyball. I bet I can beat you at that too.”

  “Probably so because I do not like volleyball.”

  “Neither do I. You would probably beat me at that for real.”

  Clinton reached into his pocket. He pulled out a joint and instantly lit it. After he took a few puffs, he reached out to give it to me.

  “Try it,” he said. “It won’t kill you, I promise.”

  “No, thanks. I’ve never done that, and I’m not about to start now.”

  “You don’t have to start, just try it. It ain’t no biggie. Besides, when you asked me to try bowling I did, didn’t I?”

  “There is no comparison, and you know it.”

  “I’ll give you that, but try it anyway.”

  I was reluctant to try it, but after Clinton asked me again, I took the joint from his hand. I placed it between my lips and inhaled. The smoke filled my mouth.

  “Inhale deeply,” he said. “Real slow and let it kind of marinate.”

  I laughed, causing the smoke to blow out of my mouth. Clinton laughed too.

  “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? You did good.”

  “Please. I don’t feel a thing. Am I supposed to feel something?”

  “Keep hitting that mutha. You’ll feel it, soon enough.”

  I took another puff, then another. And by the time I reached Clinton’s apartment, all I felt was drowsy. My eyelids were a little low, and my whole body felt light.

  “What time are you picking me up this weekend?” Clinton took the last hit from the joint, then put the tip in my ashtray.

  “I guess around noon. Will you be ready?”

  “I’m always ready.”

  “Not always, Clinton. Because I assure you that you’re not ready for this.”

  I leaned in his direction and placed my lips on his. They were thick and soft, just as I had imagined them to be. He didn’t back away from my kiss, but when I forced my tongue in his mouth, that’s when he did.

  “Whoaaa,” he said, looking at me. “No, I wasn’t ready for that, and you,
you already know what’s up with me and Velma.”

  “I know, but I just wanted to see how soft your lips were. No harm in that, is there?”

  Clinton sighed, then touched the knob to open the door. “If you only knew, man. I swear, if you only knew.”

  “Knew what? What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Just don’t do that again.”

  He was dead serious when he opened the door to get out. And sure enough, Velma was right there waiting for him. She came from out of nowhere, like a ghost or something, watching his every move.

  “Where have you been?” she asked. “I thought you went somewhere with Ray’s cousin?”

  I got out of my car, not knowing if she had seen me kiss him or not.

  “It was my fault, Velma. I had him come to my house and look at my basement. I didn’t mean—”

  Clinton cut me off. “Stop tripping,” he said to her. “You’ve been fussing all damn week. I have a headache right now. Chill with that mess, ’cause you already know what’s up.”

  “No, I don’t know. But I do know I’m getting sick and tired of this slut coming over here. Every time I look up, she’s coming to get you. If you ain’t fucking around with her, pull your damn jeans down and let me see your dick.”

  My eyes bugged. She couldn’t be serious, could she? Did she really want him to pull his shorts down so she could examine his dick? I was in total disbelief. More so when Clinton did it. Right outside, he lowered his shorts and let his dick fall into her hands.

  “See? Nothing. Now what?”

  She touched, flipped, turned, and squinted as she tried to find something on it. I had to look myself too. He was packing a load. No wonder she was acting a fool like she was. She definitely didn’t want to share anything like that.

  “Are you done yet?” Clinton said while holding his shorts.