Say hi to your new friend, Karma. Watch your back, bitch.
Simmy ran out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, and out of the apartment. She raced to the lobby and out to her car.
“Oh, my God!” she screamed, suddenly frozen with fear. She felt like she was in a living nightmare. She had to be dreaming. All of this couldn’t be happening. Simmy raised her hands to her head and squeezed her scalp. “What the fuck?” she gasped. Her car’s back and side windows had all been busted out. The hood had been dented in like someone had dropped a sack of bricks right in the middle of it. The doors and the entire body had been keyed, leaving long, jagged lines and digs in the paint all down the side. KARMA was written on her windshield in the same red lipstick as the mirror in the apartment. Simmy spun around and around, trying to see who had done this. She had just left her car there and gone upstairs not even ten minutes earlier.
She was really regretting not setting the alarm on her car. She had a bad habit of never setting it, and Alex was always having to remind her. Her car was destroyed. It had to be the same person who’d trashed the apartment. Were they watching her? Were they coming for her? Simmy’s hands trembled so badly she could barely press the buttons on her cell phone.
“Alex,” Simmy gasped. “You need to come home. No, not later; right now!” she screamed.
* * *
By the time Alex checked them into the Marriott in downtown Brooklyn, Simmy was exhausted. Her head pounded despite the strong Excedrin she had taken. Her throat burned from inhaling the chemicals and screaming. She felt like shit was out of control. Alex’s attitude was on one hundred after he’d seen what had been done to his apartment. He knew right away it had to be Veronica; she was the only other person with a key to his place. There had been no signs of forced entry from what they could tell. Simmy had copped an attitude with him, too; she didn’t understand why after all that time, Veronica still had a key. Alex hadn’t bothered to explain himself, either. There had been nothing left for Simmy to salvage. All of her stuff had been destroyed. Alex had promised to replace it all, but Simmy didn’t care about all of that. She knew she could have her stuff replaced. She was more concerned about what else that crazy bitch might have up her sleeve.
“Get some rest. I gotta make a run,” Alex said. He’d taken her to get a few things to tide her over.
“No. Please. Don’t leave me by myself tonight,” Simmy pleaded. “There is just too much going on, Alex. Don’t leave.”
“I have to make this run, Simone. Shit is way out of control right now. I have to go check a few people. I’ll be back. Get some sleep.”
Simmy sucked her teeth and flopped back down on the hotel pillow. She jumped when the hotel door slammed after Alex. Simmy lay there thinking about her parents. Even her picture of them had been tossed into the deadly chemical mixture in the apartment. It was the only picture she had of her mom and dad, and now that was gone.
“You need to get right and stop dealing with that man.” Her mother’s voice kept resonating in her mind. The last time Simmy went to visit her mother, Alex had accompanied her. Carla seemed to be visibly disinterested in talking to or getting to know him. He kept trying to make small talk with her, but she was responding with one-word answers. When he’d excused himself to go to the bathroom, Carla told Simmy that Alex was bad news. She told her daughter that the man gave her a really bad vibe.
“Oh, Mommy. You’re overreacting.” Simmy tried to brush her mother’s comments off and chuckled.
“No, I am not,” her mom responded, a stern expression on her face.
“Mom, I really don’t think you’re being very nice right now. All he wanted to do was come and meet you, and you’re acting like a bitch to him,” Simmy said.
Carla’s mom slammed her hands on the table so hard, two of the correction officers immediately sprang to their feet and put their hands on their waists. Carla put her hands up to show them she was all right.
She leaned in toward her daughter. “Listen here, little girl. Don’t you ever in your life talk to me like that again. If I even think that something like disrespectful is gonna come out your mouth, I promise you I will slap the shit out of you. And don’t think I’ll hesitate to do it. I don’t care if they put me in the hole for thirty days. On my life, you will feel my hands on you if you don’t watch the way you speak to me,” she said through gritted teeth.
Simmy was taken aback. She had never seen this side of her mother. She sat there silently, waiting to hear what else her mother had to say.
“That motherfucker didn’t come to meet me. You need to open your eyes and see things for what they are, Simone. He came here because he wants to know, hear, and see everything that you do. He wants to listen in on our conversation because he thinks he can control you.” Just as she finished her last statement, she saw Alex walking back to the table. She sat back up and put on a fake smile.
“Everything okay, baby?” Alex asked Simmy. He could tell something had been going on between them before he came back.
“Yea, everything is good. I was just telling my mom that we need to get going,” Simmy replied to Alex, but she was glaring at her mother.
“All right. Take care of yourself, Simmy.” Carla stood up.
“Yeah, you too,” Simmy said. Her words were short and dry. “Let’s go, baby,” she said as she grabbed Alex’s arm. She stood up, grabbed her jacket, and walked out of the room without bothering to look back at her mother.
Lord, please watch over her. Carla said a silent prayer. She was worried for her daughter’s well-being and was powerless to help her.
Simmy thought about her grandmother and even her aunt, Sheryl. She wondered how everyone was doing. She had to admit, she missed her Mummy Pat. She missed the home-cooked meals and her grandmother’s big, warm hugs. She missed waking up on Saturday morning to the smell of ackee and saltfish cooking on the stove while Mummy Pat hummed her old-school songs. Tears ran out of her eyes, over the bridge of her nose, and wet the pillow.
Just then, her cell phone buzzed on the hotel nightstand. Simmy eased up onto her elbow and picked it up. She didn’t recognize the number, and she started to hit decline. But she answered. “Hello,” she rasped into the phone.
“Simone?” Sheryl replied.
“Yeah? Sheryl?” Simmy sat up. It was crazy that she had just been thinking about her family and her aunt called like that. Simmy’s stomach immediately knotted up. She hadn’t heard from Sheryl since the fight back in November. She didn’t even remember giving her aunt her cell phone number.
“Simone, I think you should come by the house,” Sheryl said solemnly.
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“It’s Mummy,” Sheryl whimpered.
“Mummy? What’s wrong with Mummy? What is it?” Simmy’s voice rose an octave. She got to her feet and paced.
“She . . . she has cancer, Simone,” Sheryl said, followed by a loud burst of wails.
Simmy collapsed to her knees. “No. No. No,” she said over and over.
“You need to come make amends, Simone. The doctors said she has stage four and there’s not much they can do for her. You need to come before she . . .” Sheryl’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“I’m coming,” Simmy said. “I’ll be there.”
* * *
When Simmy arrived at Mummy Pat’s house, it took a good five starts and stops before she finally knocked on the door. Sheryl pulled back the door and tried her best to smile. Simmy did too. She could see the stress all over her aunt’s face. Her aunt Sheryl seemed like she’d aged years in the months that Simmy hadn’t seen her; a new patch of gray hair sat in a tuft in the front of her head, fine lines branched out from the corners of her eyes now, and skin sagged under her chin.
“Simone,” Sheryl sang, opening her arms and pulling Simmy into a tight embrace. “You look so good, girl.”
“Hey, Aunt Sheryl. You do too,” she lied.
&n
bsp; “Girl, I don’t need to you lie to me. I know I look like shit.”
“Where is she?” Simmy asked, not bothering to deny or affirm her aunt’s statement about her appearance.
“She’s asleep in her room. You know she’s sick if you don’t find her in the kitchen, right?” Sheryl said, sadness underlying her words.
Simmy swallowed hard. The hairs on her arms and on the back of her neck stood up. She bit down on her bottom lip as she followed Sheryl through the house toward Mummy Pat’s bedroom.
The entire vibe of the house was different. There was none of Mummy Pat’s usual old-school reggae playing throughout, gone was the aroma of whatever scrumptious West Indian dish Mummy Pat would usually be throwing down in the kitchen, and it seemed everything was in even more disrepair than before Simmy had left.
“Mummy?” Sheryl called out softly. “You awake?”
Mummy Pat moaned.
“Someone here to see you. I think you want to take this visitor.”
“I don’t have on my wig,” Mummy Pat said, that sweet Jamaican accent tugging at Simmy’s heartstrings.
“You’re always beautiful to me. You don’t need no wig,” Simmy said, stepping from behind Sheryl.
“Simone?” Mummy Pat asked, her voice weak. “Is that you, Simone?”
Simmy couldn’t help the tears that sprang to her eyes. She tried to fight it, but it was no use. Her grandmother was tiny now, with every bone in her face and neck jutting hard against the thinness of her skin. Her head was bald; gone were the beautiful long, dark curls Mummy Pat cherished so much as a younger woman.
Simmy sat down at Mummy Pat’s side and lay her head down on her grandmother. “Yes, Mummy Pat. It’s me. I missed you so much,” Simmy cried.
“Oh, Lord. I prayed you would come home. I’m sorry, Simmy. I’m sorry about everything. I am so sorry, baby.”
Simmy could not control the hard sobs that overtook her. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I stayed away all of these months. From now on, I’ll be here. I’ll be right by your side, Mummy Pat. I swear it.”
Chapter 18
Another Side
“Where the fuck you been?” Alex growled. He was in Simmy’s face before she could fully get back into the hotel room.
She put her hand up to her nose and scrunched up her face. “You stink like liquor,” she said with much attitude, ignoring his question.
Alex grabbed her neck and forced her up against the wall. “I’m not going to fucking ask you again,” Alex said through his teeth. “Where the fuck you been?”
Simmy let out a mousy squeal, and her eyes went round. She was so shocked by his behavior that a tiny bit of urine leaked from her bladder and wet her panties. “Get off me,” she said, struggling under his grip.
“Answer me!” Alex growled, pulling her forward and then slamming her into the wall again. Simmy’s teeth clicked, and pain exploded at the back of her head as it banged into the wall. Alex increased the pressure of his grasp on her throat.
“Stop it,” Simmy wheezed, barely able to get the words out.
“You fucking left here and didn’t call me? Huh? You ain’t got no car so how you get around? A nigga came and got you? You fucking another nigga? Huh? What nigga you fucking?” Alex accused, squeezing so hard Simmy could feel blackness creeping into the sides of her vision. She dug her nails into the top of his hand but to no avail. The heavy, sweet, and bitter scent of alcohol shot straight up her nose as he hissed in her face. “I took you out the gutter while your little boyfriend got locked up and couldn’t do a damn thing for you. You better fucking remember that. You ain’t loyal? Huh? You giving my pussy away? You want some other nigga out there in them streets? Can’t nobody do for you what I’ve done for you. You fucking belong to me, and the next time you disappear, I’ll fucking kill you,” he slurred. He released her neck and staggered backward.
Simmy’s mouth hung open. She raised her hands to her throat, willing her lungs to fill with air. Finally, she got enough air to start wheezing and coughing. She rested her back against the wall and slid down to the floor. This was another side of Alex that she had never seen.
“Simone.” Alex softened. He rushed over to her. “Shit. Simone.”
Simmy put her knees up to her chest and covered her head with her arms. She resembled a frightened turtle retreating into its shell. She cried as quietly as she could.
Alex got down on the floor and pulled her into his chest. “I didn’t mean to. I just . . .” he stuttered. “I can’t stand to think that you would leave me. I need you. I love you. I just get so crazy when I don’t know where you are,” he said, the liquor on his breath and clothes permeating the room.
Simmy was too scared to push him away. She was too scared to run. She was too scared to move.
“It won’t happen again. I swear,” Alex promised.
Simmy didn’t say a word. She never said a word about it again. She wanted to believe that it had never happened. It was something she wanted to forget as soon as she possibly could.
* * *
After the incident, Alex did everything he could to woo Simmy. Flowers, impromptu dinners at fancy restaurants, a new Cartier watch, a few pairs of Jimmy Choo, Sophia Webster, and Aquazzura shoes. Simmy gladly accepted it all. She was fascinated by the effort he was taking to prove that he was sorry. She had forgiven him. But, she hadn’t forgotten.
Simmy and Alex spent three weeks in the Marriott Downtown while they searched for a new condo. Simmy worked day and night with fake credit cards and kiting checks. She had to give Alex the lion’s share of the money, but she still made enough to give to her aunt Sheryl to help pay for Mummy Pat’s care. Simmy had learned her lesson and didn’t go anywhere without making sure Alex knew where she was going and if she was alone. Each time she left the hotel, if she wasn’t driving Alex’s car to make money, she let him know her every move.
“Damn. It’s already dark outside. Didn’t realize I was in there so long,” Simmy spoke to herself as she climbed into the Range Rover. She settled into the seat and rested her head on the driver’s side headrest. She let out a long sigh. For the first time in forever, going out working had been a chore. Simmy had been drawn back to the stressful feeling she’d get going out with Jayla to boost the old-fashioned way. Simmy had just left Nordstrom, and it had seemed one of the clerks had been clocking her hard. One even held Simmy’s credit card up to the light. Simmy had almost cursed her out, but she thought better of making a scene and having store security come over.
Simmy started up Alex’s car and headed back to Brooklyn. The long ride back was soothing, and she was able to clear her mind of some of the things that were bogging her down. She thought about how complicated her situation with Alex was, about Mummy Pat being so sick, and about how bad she felt about how things went during the last visit with her mom. She had been thinking that maybe her mom was right about some of the things she had spoken to her about. She was regretting not staying in school and graduating.
Simmy listened to Drake’s latest album and tried to let the music carry her mind away from her problems. She made it back to Brooklyn in what seemed like record time. She whipped the Range down Flatbush Avenue and slowed down for a red light.
Bang!
“Ah!” Simmy screeched and ducked at the loud noise. Her foot hit the gas, and the Range Rover lurched forward. Simmy swerved the steering wheel and hit a parked car and a pole. Her head slammed into the steering wheel. She was dazed.
Bang! Another loud bang and glass from the back window had seemingly exploded into the car. Simmy went to lift her aching head, and suddenly the driver’s side door of the Range Rover swung open.
“No!” Simmy screamed, gripping the steering wheel as she was being forcefully dragged from the vehicle. Her strength was no match for her attackers.
“Help!” she screamed, trying to kick and fight, but a black leather glove quickly covered her mouth.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” a man’s voice said in her ea
r. “Keep your fucking eyes closed, too, or you won’t live to open them shits ever again.”
Simmy’s heart felt like it would explode. The cold kiss of steel from the gun pressed against her temple was enough to give her a heart attack. She could hear that there was more than one assailant. “Get all that shit. Bag, money, phone, everything,” one of them said.
“Tell your bitch-ass man that we everywhere and we ain’t gonna stop until that nigga does right by everybody. The nigga can’t bite the hand that feed his punk ass and think it’s one hun’ned. You too cute to be getting caught up like this, baby girl. Next time that bullet that hit that back window might just make it into somebody’s head. Better get away from that snake nigga Alex, before that somebody is you,” the one holding Simmy said in her ear.
He threw her down to the ground, and they all took off running. Simmy cowered against another car and sobbed. Why were things constantly happening to her now? When did her life get so complicated? Simmy couldn’t understand why so much bad was happening to her. What had she ever done to deserve any of this?
She scrambled up from the ground and limped over to the car. Her cell phone, money, new clothes, and all of Alex’s counterfeit cards and checks were gone. “Fuck my life! And fuck everybody who don’t fuck with me!” Simmy growled, slamming her fists into the seats. She didn’t know how much more she could take.
* * *
Alex paced in front of Simmy, his constant movement annoying her. “Tell me what the nigga said about me again?” Alex asked, stopping for a few seconds.
Magic Touch Page 18
