Magic Touch

by Treasure Hernandez

“So y’all followed me here to vent about not liking me?” Simmy said, not backing down although she had to fight to keep her teeth from chattering together. “That’s lame for grown-ass women like y’all.” She shifted her gaze from one scowling face to another.

  “This little bitch talk too much,” Sheridan announced, pulling back her fist like she was going to punch Simmy. “Let me just lay this bitch out with one punch and get it over with.”

  Simmy jumped so hard she dropped her bag on the ground. She kept her head up, kept her eyes on the girls, and reached down to get it.

  “You think you got a prize in Alex? You think that nigga going to care about you for the rest of your life? Yeah, I thought the same thing. I was loyal to that nigga, and I still am. He plays mind games. He ain’t tell you that he’s always promising to marry me, right? He ain’t tell you how he uses his money to keep me on the line, right? He ain’t tell you that just last month I told him I quit and to leave me alone and he sat in my house shedding crocodile tears and begging me not to go, right?” Veronica spat. She chuckled evilly. “You’re nothing but a dumb, naïve, little-ass girl. A scared little girl at that. You should’ve stuck with your little Rikers Island boyfriend. You ain’t ready for Alexander Kennedy, fact. You wait until your pussy gets old and he’s on to the next bitch. You wait until you all in and that nigga gets frustrated and tries to take your fucking head off. You’re going to be just like me, out here looking crazy and about to take the next bitch down over that nigga,” Veronica said with feeling.

  “I’m not a little girl, but maybe the jealousy is because you’re insecure, Veronica. I didn’t go after him. He pursued me, so why don’t you take this up with Alex—” Simmy started, but her words were cut short. “Ah!” She crumpled to the ground holding her cheek after receiving an open-handed slap to her face. Simmy didn’t know who had hit her. The slap had happened so fast that she didn’t even know who had administered the stinging hit.

  Within seconds, all of the girls converged on her and started pulling her long hair, punching her, scratching her, and kicking her. They were saying things like, “Dumb bitch!” “Traitor-ass ho!” “Little hot-in-the-ass ho!” “Fake-ass bitch!” “Lying bitch!”

  “Help!” Simmy hollered. She flailed and kicked wildly trying to get the girls off of her. Her attempts were all for nothing. The more she moved, the harder more intense their assault got. All of the blows to her face and head made it hard for Simmy to stay consistent with her kicking and fighting back. Simmy’s scalp was on fire as someone fisted her hair and yanked on it. She took a glancing blow to the bridge of her nose that caused an explosion of small squirms of light in her eyesight. Simmy could feel warm blood running out of her nose and into the back of her throat.

  “Help me!” Simmy gurgled, choking on the blood filling up her mouth. She felt and heard the delicate material of her silk Gucci shirt rip in the front, and she could tell that her bra was exposed.

  “You worthless little bitch. Get your own fucking man,” Veronica growled through her teeth as she landed blow after blow in Simmy’s face. “I tried to fucking accept you. I tried to believe you were loyal. You’re a nothing but a cheap, young, lying-ass ho!”

  Simmy felt her shoes come off and her pants rip. Her knees burned from being dragged across the concrete. More crashing and cracking punches, slaps, and kicks landed on her head, chest, back, and legs. She could taste the tiny sting of blood in mouth, and she’d been kicked in the crotch so hard urine had involuntarily escaped her bladder, wetting the inner thighs of her pants.

  “Oh my God! Someone call the police! This lady is being attacked!” Simmy heard somebody yell out.

  “C’mon. Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Sheridan barked at the others.

  “You’re so fucking lucky I don’t feel like catching a case today, or I’d finish your ass off,” Veronica snarled. “This shit ain’t nearly over.”

  They all turned and ran, leaving Simmy bloodied on the ground. Everything around her seemed to be spinning, and she couldn’t locate exactly where the pain was coming from, but her entire body ached. Simmy raised her trembling hand to her face first. She could feel the gashes in her cheeks where they’d gouged out her skin with their nails.

  “Miss, are you okay?” A man rushed over to Simmy’s side. “Were they trying to rob you?”

  Simmy was dizzy as he tried to help her to her feet. She could feel her lips and eyes swelling with each passing minute. She finally got her eyes to focus and noticed that the entire contents of her purse had spilled out on the ground, including all of the fake credit cards she had in her bag. Panic flashed through her chest, and suddenly her bruises and pain didn’t matter as much.

  “We called the police, miss. Let us help you up inside so you can wait for them in safety,” the man was saying.

  “No! I’m fine!” Simmy yelled at the good Samaritan. She squirmed away from the man’s grasp and dropped down to the ground. She crawled around and hurriedly scooped up the cards.

  “I’m just trying to help,” the man said, backing off with his hands up.

  “I’ll help her,” a young girl said. She bent down and began helping Simmy pick up her things. “I totally understand,” the girl said. She winked at Simmy.

  Simmy looked at the girl strangely, but the girl just smiled.

  The police arrived about eight minutes after Veronica and her crew of bullies had gone. Simmy had gathered her things, but she was a mess. Her hair was sticking in every direction, both of her lips were swollen, and red, blue, and purple rings were beginning to crop up under both of her eyes. Simmy crossed her arms over her chest because the front of her shirt was completely gone.

  “Ma’am, we’ve called an ambulance for you,” one of the responding officers said. “We will transport you to the hospital to get looked at.”

  “No. That’s okay. I’ll just call my boyfriend to come get me,” Simmy said, barely able to speak coherently through her swollen mouth. She’d also bitten her tongue, making it more difficult to speak.

  “Do you know your attackers, ma’am?” the officer asked.

  “Old enemies,” Simmy lied. “I don’t even know their names. Mean girls from high school.”

  “Any vehicle description? Anything you can give us will help us get the people who attacked you,” he said.

  “No. I didn’t get—”

  “I took the license plate number.” A lady rushed forward with a piece of paper in her hand. She seemed to come out of nowhere. She provided Veronica’s license plate number to the officers. Simmy panicked.

  “I just need to use a phone. They smashed mine,” Simmy said, barely able to keep still. The officer pulled out his cell phone and handed it to her. She dialed Alex’s number.

  “Alex! I need you to come and get me!” Simmy screamed into the phone. “Now!”

  * * *

  Alex’s eyes almost bulged out of the sockets when he saw Simmy’s wild hair and bruised face. He rushed over to her and pulled her into his arms. “What the fuck?” he gasped. Simmy melted against him. Her sobs came fast and heavy. Her entire body quaked. Everything hurt, even producing tears.

  “Shh. Shh,” Alex comforted her, holding her. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

  Alex gave the police officers a fake name and assured them he would take Simmy to the hospital. He led Simmy to his Range Rover and helped her inside. “Let me go tell Zacky we are good. I’ll be right back,” Alex told her. He rushed over and thanked his man Zacky for the ride. He was back in his car within seconds.

  “You think you need to go to the hospital?” he asked Simmy.

  She shook her head. She could not stop the tears from flowing.

  “What the fuck happened?” he asked.

  “Veronica—” Simmy was saying.

  “Veronica did this?” Alex boomed. He almost swerved the car off the road.

  Simmy shook her head in the affirmative.

  “And the other girls,” Simmy rasped. “They attacked
me, and all of the cards were out there on the ground. If the cops had got there five minutes earlier, it would’ve been a wrap. And some old lady took Veronica’s license plate down from when they drove away. The police have it now.” Simmy dabbed at her busted mouth with a napkin.

  Alex’s jaw rocked feverishly, and he gripped the steering wheel so hard veins popped up on the tops of his hands.

  “She knows about us,” Simmy murmured. “She said you’re still with her. That’s why she did this.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what she said. She fucking put everybody at risk doing this shit while you were out here working,” Alex said through gritted teeth. He didn’t seem to care about anything else.

  Simmy closed her eyes and let her tears flow. She didn’t know if she even wanted to be with Alex anymore. She didn’t know if any of this was worth it anymore.

  Alex pulled his car to a screeching stop in front of Veronica’s beauty salon uptown. Veronica had told Simmy that the salon was a front to wash some of Alex’s dirty money, but Simmy never understood what Veronica meant or what she was complaining for. In Simmy’s assessment, Alex had just bought Veronica her own business with no cash input from her.

  “Stay here,” Alex told Simmy as he bent over and banged the bottom area of the glove compartment until a small compartment opened up.

  Simmy shifted in the seat as Alex grabbed a black handgun from the compartment. “Alex, don’t.”

  “I said stay here,” he snapped, stuffing the gun into the back of his pants.

  Simmy watched him scramble out of the car and storm into the shop. She shook her head. She knew from Alex’s attitude that nothing good was going to happen.

  Through the glass storefront window, Simmy could see Alex saying something to the receptionist. The woman stood up from behind the small counter. She shook her head. Alex said something to her; then he stormed toward the back of the shop. The girl raced from behind the counter and rushed behind him. Within moments, Simmy saw Alex dragging Veronica toward the door of the shop.

  Simmy shook her head no. “Oh, my God,” she gasped as she watched Alex drag Veronica by her hair. He was waving his gun and moving his mouth. Simmy figured he was daring anyone in the shop to try to save Veronica.

  Alex kicked open the shop door and pulled Veronica, kicking and screaming, out of the door onto the concrete.

  “Get up and walk, bitch!” he barked. “You want to be out here jumping somebody and risking my business? Huh, bitch?” Alex snarled, yanking Veronica’s hair so hard she had no choice but to pop up onto her feet.

  “This is the thanks I get, Alex? This is the fucking thanks I get for always being your bottom bitch?” she hollered.

  “Shut the fuck up!” he boomed. He dragged her to the passenger window of his Range Rover where Simmy watched in horror through her swollen eyes.

  “Apologize to her,” Alex growled, holding his gun to Veronica’s temple.

  Veronica sobbed so hard her face was covered in tears and snot. She wouldn’t say a word.

  “I said to fucking apologize,” Alex said through gritted teeth, pressing the cold steel of the gun barrel hard against Veronica’s head.

  Simmy cried and shook her head. This wasn’t what she wanted Alex to do. She didn’t want to see Veronica get hurt like this, either. Maybe a slap around in private, but not this spectacle. There had to be at least a hundred people standing outside of businesses, stopping on the streets, and perched in windows watching Veronica get humiliated.

  “Oh, you not going to apologize?” Alex said. He raised the gun and brought it down with a crack on the side of Veronica’s face.

  “Agh!” she screamed. Her legs seemed to give out, and blood gushed from her head.

  “Apologize to her and now to me!” Alex demanded, yanking Veronica’s head up and forcing it hard against the vehicle window.

  Simmy jumped from the thud of Veronica’s face hitting the window so hard.

  “Say it!” Alex screamed, pulling her head back and slamming it into the glass again.

  Veronica cried out in agony. “I . . . I . . .” she struggled. Her teeth were bloodied now.

  Simmy closed her eyes. She couldn’t watch any longer.

  “I . . . I . . . what?” Alex mocked. “Look at her and say fucking sorry!”

  Simmy jumped and opened her eyes again. She shivered.

  “I’m sor . . . sorryyy,” Veronica cried out.

  “Bitch, the next time you decide to do something that puts my money at risk, I’ma use this motherfucker right here and put you out of your fucking misery,” he spat, pointing the gun at Veronica’s right eye. With that, he released her hair with and threw her to the ground with a hard shove. She fell over onto her side, sobbing. All of the girls from the shop rushed over to help her.

  Alex stormed around the Range Rover and got in with a fury Simmy had never witnessed before.

  “She won’t be fucking with you or my money ever again. Facts,” Alex said angrily. “I don’t play when it comes to my fucking money. I don’t care who the fuck you are. Eight to eighty, dumb, crippled, or crazy, you will fucking get it if you fuck around with this nigga’s money. She played with the wrong nigga. If those cops would’ve caught those cards, we all would’ve been fucked.”

  Simmy closed her eyes and listened to his rant, hoping that she’d hear at least one sentence about the beating she took and her well-being. She never did. All Alex seemed to worry about was that Veronica had almost gotten him busted when she attacked Simmy. Simmy realized that Alex was very self-centered and she had failed to realize it sooner. She decided she needed to be more observant of Alex’s actions from that moment on.

  Chapter 17

  Karma

  The summer came in with a fury of heat waves. July in Brooklyn was hot, and so were the streets. Simmy had grown up in the business and, in the four months since they’d parted ways with Veronica, Alex had come to trust Simmy enough now to send her out on her own to make money.

  School was the furthest thing from Simmy’s mind at this point. She had never even bothered to call or go to her old school to officially drop out. She was happy with her life as it was. Gone was the schoolgirl with her head always buried in a book. It was as if Simmy were a completely different person. She hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone in her family outside of Jayla. She could never stop talking to her cousin. She would always be loyal to Jayla. Simmy had been making sure she had money on the books, her apartment was being kept up, and that Jayla’s lawyer was doing his job.

  She had gone back to visit her mom two times in the last four months. Her mom was getting annoying with all her talk about how Simmy needed to get right and stop working with Alex. Simmy felt very in control of her actions, and she really didn’t want or need anyone coming and telling her how to live her life. Especially a woman who had left her out to dry when she was just fourteen years old. Besides, why would she want to walk away from her life right now? She was making money, and a had a great man who gave her everything she wanted.

  Alex had her completely turned out. He lavished her with clothes, shoes, jewelry, and anything else her little heart desired. He’d also gotten her a little ride of her own, a red Honda Accord coupe that she had named Candy Baby. With little convincing, Simmy had also agreed to move in with Alex. Kyan was now a distant memory. She barely had underwear left at Jayla’s house, although she still went to check in on the place once a week. She’d go to make sure the cleaning lady was doing a good job.

  Simmy put her shopping bags down at her sides and fished around her in Céline bag for the keys to the Brooklyn Heights condo she shared with Alex.

  “All this shit in here,” she grumbled, moving aside stacks of counterfeit credit cards and several different checkbooks. She finally retrieved the key and opened the door. Simmy stepped inside. “Agh.” She balked, immediately dropping her bags and throwing her hand up, covering her nose and mouth.

  “What the fuck is that smell?” she mumbled, practically gaggi
ng from the strong odor. Her eyes watered and her throat felt like she had swallowed a fire-lit sword. She opened her mouth to call out to Alex, but that just caused her to cough and choke even more. It smelled like an entire aisle of cleaning products at a store exploded inside the apartment. The mixture was caustic.

  Simmy moved farther into the apartment and stopped dead. Her hand fell away from her mouth and tears immediately sprang to her eyes. It looked like a hurricane had gone through Alex’s living room. His glass tables were shattered, and glass sprinkled his hardwood floors in such small shards it looked like icicles had fallen from some place high and broken into a million pieces all over.

  The white stuffing of the couch cushions spilled from long gashes cut down the centers. Every piece of artwork had been knocked off the walls and sliced in asterisk patterns in the middles, the frames were splintered, and the seventy-inch TV mounted on the wall had a gaping hole in the center of it.

  “Oh, my God,” Simmy coughed, her eyes and nose still burning. She turned swiftly and raced toward the bedrooms. The pungent odor almost became too much to bear the closer she got. Simmy pushed open Alex’s ajar bedroom door. The smell almost knocked her backward. She stumbled a few steps. The bed was in the same condition as the couches, sliced and diced until all of the stuff hung out. Alex’s fifty-inch flat-screen television was destroyed in the same manner as the television in the living room. Simmy stumbled toward the walk-in closet she shared with Alex.

  “What the fuck?” she gasped. The closet was almost bare on her side. Simmy rushed inside and flicked through the hangers on her side. All of her expensive shirts, dresses, jeans, pant suits, and T-shirts were gone. Alex’s things were left practically untouched. Her heart banged so hard it hurt. She whirled around. There was nothing but empty boxes left from the more than ninety pairs of shoes, sneakers, boots, and sandals she owned. Simmy felt dazed and confused. She raced out of the closet and into the bathroom.

  “Agh!” she gagged. She had found the source of the choking odor. The bathtub had been filled with all of her clothes, shoes, jewelry, watches, hats, perfumes, and accessories. Someone had poured bleach, ammonia, and any other cleaning product you could think of over all of her belongings. Everything Simmy owned was swimming in the deadly mixture of chemicals. A slow hissing sound was coming from the tub like it was all about to explode. Simmy moved backward slowly on her legs, her eyes filled with tears from the poisonous gasses coming from the bathtub. She blinked rapidly and looked at the mirror hanging over the bathroom sink. There was a message written in Simmy’s red MAC lipstick: