by Styles, T.
Randy had obsessed over Farah ever since he found her in the back of his truck when she was a kid. He never made a move because her body hadn’t matured enough for his taste. Really he preferred much-older women who would be obedient to his every command. Although she was young, she did listen when he put the pressure on her, so he felt he could mold her mind. Out of all of his girlfriends, Farah was the only one who could take dick and allowed him to do everything he wanted to her body, whether it hurt or not. Plus the fact that before his mother died, three years ago today, she wanted him to marry her, and that made him want to be with her even more, because he trusted his mother’s judgment. Losing his mother hurt and without her guidance he was lonely and unstable. He was trying to build a home, but he needed her.
His place was on a curving tree-lined street and all the homes in the neighborhood, including Randy’s, had ample lawn space. When she got to his house, she saw another car out front, which was rarely the case. So instead of exiting her warm car and knocking on the door, she decided to call first. “You got company?” she asked the moment she heard his voice. She checked her makeup in the mirror and then brushed her hair. “Because I thought you wanted to be alone with me.”
“First of all, I called your mothafuckin’ass ten times and you just getting back at me now? Why the fuck you ain’t answer the phone? You gonna make me not fuck with you no more, Farah.”
Then do it then, nigga!
“Then what the fuck you gonna do? Who gonna keep paper in your pockets?” He was so arrogant it was gross.
“Randy, I was busy with—”
“Get the fuck in here before I cut you off. You gotta learn to respect me.”
“I’m parking now.” Farah parked her Benz on the street to prevent blocking the other visitor. Then she grabbed her purse and moved through the snowy sidewalk to get to his house. When she got to the door she knocked twice.
“It’s open,” a man said. The moment she turned the knob, she wanted to run back outside. To her left was a dude she never saw before and when he saw the distressed look on her face, he slammed and locked the door to prevent her from leaving. But it was the person sitting on the sofa with the North Face coat that had her shaken the most.
There Tank was, glaring in her direction. Things were rolling around in her mind and she was feeling sick. Walking toward the sofa, she stopped in place when she heard scratching noises coming from the bathroom by the front door. “What’s going on, Randy?” she asked, breathing heavily. To the left of him sat a table with a bouquet of fresh red roses, which she felt were out of place. Her eyes alternated from the stranger to Randy and Tank. “I come at a bad time?”
“Get over here and sit down,” Randy said. She didn’t move and the man at the door pushed her toward the chair.
“Tank, I’m not gonna say nothing about what happened at your house! You see I ain’t tell the cops nothing even though they pressured me. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Farah, sit the fuck down,” Randy said. “You wasting everybody’s time. Farah walked over to a chair within the room across from Tank. He was ice grilling her.
Farah couldn’t read Randy’s expression because each look he gave meant different things at different times. Although Randy was a dangerous man, to look at him you’d never know. At the moment his smooth dark-chocolate face was emotionless as he ran his hand over his low haircut, which was riddled with waves. A pair of dark Versace shades hung on his nose and he pushed them back repeatedly out of habit.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” She sat in the seat. When the scratching noise at the bottom of the bathroom door got louder she looked at it. When it stopped she faced Randy again. “I’m confused.”
“I’m settling your debt, Farah. That’s what’s going on.”
“Settling my debt?” She pointed at herself. “But I don’t owe anybody.”
“Sure you do, RedBone,” Randy said. “Whenever you ’cause problems, you owe the people it impacts. And we’re here to discuss what it would take to clean up your mess. When things are settled tonight, you owe me. Don’t worry, I got a payment plan for you.”
“But I never took anything from him.”
“That’s because you didn’t get a chance to. This nigga is on the run because he murdered somebody you brought in his house without him knowing. So yes, you owe him.”
Randy disappeared into the back of the house, leaving Farah alone with the men. While he was gone she turned around and examined the front door. If she used her track skills she could be outside in less than thirty seconds. Deciding to go for it, when she focused back on Tank, the nose of the .45 that killed her friend was staring in her direction. “You not gonna get away from me this time, RedBone.” Tank was sweating, even though the air was on. Needless to say Farah didn’t move.
Five minutes later, Randy returned with a book bag full of money. When he saw Tank’s gun he said, “Put that shit away.” Tank pulled up his coat and tucked the gun in his waistband. When he was done, his eyes found their way back on Farah. He hated her and it showed in the way his nostrils flared with every breath he took. Interrupting his gaze, he handed Tank the bag of money and Tank was about to look through it before Randy said, “Don’t insult my fucking intelligence. That’s one hundred grand. It’s all there.”
Finally speaking, Tank said, “It may be all there but it ain’t enough to start over.” He raised the bag. “I might not get farther than North Carolina with this shit.”
“But that’s what the fuck you asked for, and we both know that’s more money than you’ve ever seen in your life. You couldn’t have been making more than a thousand a week working for me on the blocks, if that.” Randy looked at his goon on the door who handled paydays. “What you think, Tornado?”
“Less than that for sure,” the goon said, speaking for the first time.
“See ... So for real you’re making out.”
“But now I’m on the run, boss,” Tank persisted. “Because of your fiancée. She fucked up my entire life. I can’t even enjoy this shit and be around my kid now.” Farah heard the word “fiancée” and thought he was confused.
“I ain’t giving you shit else, nigga,” Randy said evenly. “Now you can either take the money, or get your fat ass off my couch and get the fuck out my house.”
Tank scowled, stood up, and gripped the bag. Then he walked toward Farah. Just being in his presence intimidated her. Had she not been the gold-digging bitch that she was, none of this would’ve happened. To make matters worse, she wasn’t even good in the bedroom. Tank stood over her.
“Stand up, Farah,” Randy ordered.
She glared at him. “Huh? Why?”
Randy tilted his head and said, “Really? You gonna make me tell you again?”
She rose slowly and the moment she was eye level with Tank, he slammed his fist into her stomach. The potato chips she shared with her friends earlier came flying out like chunky balls and clung to his black North Face coat. She dropped to her knees and held on to her stomach. Tank dusted the mess off of his coat with the back of his hand and was about to hit her again when Randy said, “That’s it. Get the fuck out my house.”
Tank looked back at him and said, “I sure hope this bitch worth it.”
Randy laughed. “Don’t make me take back my good gestures. And, most of all, don’t make me lose patience. Now get the fuck out before you’re lying on the floor next to her with your eyes shut ... permanently.” Tank went out the door with Randy’s goon, whose mission was to see to it that he got lost for good.
Farah had a headache so strong it felt like someone was plucking her temples. Everything about what just happened confused her. She didn’t know Tank worked for Randy, and most of all she couldn’t believe she’d run from this dude all this time, only to be handed over to him by her ex-boyfriend. She felt betrayed in the worst way.
Randy grabbed a red rose from the bouquet and walked over to where she kneeled. Then he got on his knees and rubbed her b
ack, as she balled up on the floor. “I can’t believe you would even fuck that dude. The nigga’s dirty.”
“It wasn’t even like that,” Farah said, looking at him through teary eyes.
“It couldn’t be.” Randy scowled. Then he put the rose to her nose. “I got something that will make you feel better. Smell this.”
“What?” She frowned, not wanting any part of the rose or Randy. “I don’t want to.”
“I said smell the fucking rose.”
Slowly she inhaled the buds and in her opinion it smelled ordinary. “It’s a rose, Randy.”
“Smell it again,” he ordered. “This time sniff harder.”
Farah closed her eyes, and sniffed the rose harder. This time a diamond ring scratched the surface of her nose. When she opened her eyes a five-carat ring sparkled in her direction. “Take it out.” Randy grinned. “It’s yours.” Farah slowly took the five-carat ring out of the rose, and knew immediately what it was. “You’re going to marry me in February of next year. This is what you owe me for putting out the hundred grand to save your life. That nigga was gonna kill you, Farah. I saved you, so you officially belong to me.” He put the ring on her finger. The scratching at the bottom of the bathroom door grew louder and Randy smiled. “Oh ... I almost forgot.” He got up and opened it. Out ran two tiny chocolate teacup yorkies. Since Farah was on the floor, they leaped on top of her and licked all over her face. They were far more excited about life than she was at the moment. “I got these for you as an engagement gift.”
“Why are you doing this to me, Randy? I don’t love you.”
“I’m sorry you see this as a punishment. But before my mother died, she wanted me to be happy and to have kids. She said it would be you ... Don’t you remember that?” She didn’t speak. “I been running the streets and could never find a chick more obedient than you. You’re young and you do what I ask.” He rubbed her hair. “The only problem I have is that I can’t keep my eyes on you at all times. That’s about to change too.”
Farah knew he wasn’t the one, she felt it in her heart. If she moved in with him, she’d never be free and he would dominate her life. Lying was the only way she saw out of this situation, even though she could hear her grandmother in the background warning her against it.
“Where have you been living since Zone died?” She could barely speak because she was in so much pain that she felt as if her bowels were pushed to the back because of Tank’s thunderous blow. “You gonna make me ask you again?” he said, holding one puppy while the other jumped all over her lap.
“I’m not trying to ignore you,” she said, “it’s just that my stomach hurts. That nigga just hit me hard as shit.”
Randy chuckled. “That blow wasn’t hard enough to do damage.” He grinned. “I mean ... it ain’t like we ain’t did way freakier shit than that before. Now where are you living?”
Realizing there was no way she could tell this fool she was trying to keep the apartment in Platinum Lofts she said, “I’m back home. I’m staying with my mother for now.”
“Why you didn’t keep that spot in the Lofts? I was hoping we could live there together.” Secretly he wanted to move dope out of her apartment, since it was in one of his best drug areas. “I thought it would be nice to have that place and our house here.”
“They rented it out because I couldn’t afford to stay there. It’s already gone.”
“You should’ve said something.” He shook his head. “Well, since you’re my fiancée, you can live with me.”
“Randy, you gotta give me time to tell my family. And my mother. I mean, she’s sick right now and needs my help.”
“You don’t even fuck with your mother like that.”
“We been working on our relationship.” She smiled weakly, now holding a happy puppy to make her lie more believable. “I can’t move with you right now because I don’t want to leave her alone, and my sisters are doing their own thing.”
“I’m gonna let you stay at your mom’s house for now, but when she’s better, or not, you’re moving in with me. That ring on your finger means you are mine. I’m serious about that. You have to handle yourself in the streets like a lady at all times because I’m watching. You’re my queen. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, Randy.” She bawled, wiping tears off her face.
“You know it disappoints me that you’re crying. You used to tell me you dreamed about a dark-chocolate nigga to sweep you off your feet. I never forgot about that ... so here I am.” Awkwardly skipping the subject Randy asked, “So what you gonna name them?” He looked at the dogs.
“Not sure. Guess I gotta think about it.” The dogs were the last things on her mind.
“Well, think of something tonight.” He grabbed the puppy from her lap and it yapped loudly because he gripped it too hard. He put both dogsfaces up to his and kissed them both in the mouths. His tongue touched theirs and Farah was grossed out. “Now go get cleaned up and then go to my room. I want you face down ass up.”
Chapter 17
“Welcome to my crazy-ass world.”
—Farah
After Coconut declined Farah’s roommate offer, she placed an ad in the Washington Post. She was looking for a chick she could hang with who was also her roommate, especially since she found out Coconut was spending more time with Shannon. Her jealously was off the meter. If she wanted to end their friendship she would play that game too. At first she wondered if her neglect had something to do with the hit and run, but after a while it became clear that she was just bored with her all together. Farah’s ad was specific and straight to the point because she knew what she was looking for. A red bone. Just like her. Someone who was cute to hang out with but had enough money to pay $900 a month in rent. Yet there the dark-skinned girl sat, applying for a room she could never get. “Your engagement ring is beautiful,” prospect number eighteen said. “When are you getting married?”
“Never,” Farah said with an attitude.
“Oh ... well ... I really like the apartment.” Her eyes widened as she looked around the large, luxurious pad. And Farah’s expensive puppies, which she named Diamond and Pearl, ran around the apartment as if they owned the place. “I knew the moment I stepped into this building, it would probably be fly in here.” She nodded. “I was right.”
When she left Randy’s house the other day, although he didn’t know it, he gave her enough paper to pay rent for two months and buy new furniture. Now she was already broke. She had to be careful because he could be anywhere at any time. But her desire to live alone gave her the reason to try him even though she shouldn’t have. Years of being stuck at home and unable to have a life made her to live for the moment. Feeling like she needed more things done to her apartment, she also had the maintenance man, who had a crush on her, install new carpet. Since she was in charge and living on her own, she wanted things to be perfect.
“I think we would do good together,” prospect number eighteen said, looking intently into her eyes. “You seem like you laid back and I’m wild as a two-year-old.” She laughed. “They say opposites attract, so we should get along fine.”
“Well, I’m not looking for an opposite. I’m looking for someone just like me.” Farah lit the blunt she’d wanted to fire up since noon. Now it was five o’clock and she still hadn’t found a roommate worthy of splitting it with. One thing was for sure: she damn sure wasn’t giving none to the bitch in front of her. “Now I’m glad you like my place and all, but you can’t stay here.” Farah inhaled smoke and allowed it to exit her lungs in a pillow-like cloud. “Sorry, but it would never work because I’m moody and you probably would take it the wrong way.”
Prospect number eighteen frowned. “I deal with moody people all day. I’m a bartender.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be able to deal with me.” She paused. “Besides, the room is taken.”
“I been here for fifteen minutes answering all your bullshit-ass questions and you tell me this now?” She was pi
ssed the fuck off and it showed in the way the lines formed on her forehead. “Why didn’t you say that shit before? Instead of wasting a bitch’s time?”
“I didn’t want to be rude at first, but now I don’t care. Because at the end of the day, you read what I was looking for, yet you came anyway. Now ... is there anything else?”
Prospect number eighteen rolled her eyes and grabbed her cell phone from her purse. “Naw, I’ma call my cousin to come pick me up. Since you seem so occupied with your blunt and all.” She shook her head. “You didn’t even offer a bitch a hit.”
“Can you do that out in the hallway?”
“No ... I can’t.” She dialed a number and put the phone to her ear. “And if you keep talking shit, I’ma have my cousin come up in here and stomp you out in your own apartment, bitch!” She stood up and looked down at Farah, who remained seated in her brown recliner. Farah wasn’t scared of this chick at all. She just wanted things to go smoothly so she could leave. After all, why should she be mad? She already lived in Platinum Lofts. “Hey, GiGi, I’m ready.” She looked at Farah again. “Girl, this bitch was serious about that red bone shit she put in the paper. So hurry up and come get me before I hurt her.” She paused. “Thanks girl.” She put her phone back in her purse. “Is it because I’m not light skinned?” she said out of nowhere. “That you won’t let me live here?”
“Yes.”
“You know ... I started not to even come because of your ad, but I was hoping I could change your mind.”
“How could you change my mind? You don’t even know me.” She glowered. “I was specific about what I was looking for. If anything you wasted your own time.”
“I figured anybody requesting a roommate who is a red bone is shallow. I guess I was right. What you have against dark-skinned people anyway?”
“What difference does it make? The room is taken and I don’t want you to live with me. Damn!” Prospect number eighteen was heated and Farah thought it was funny. Had she not applied for a room that didn’t meet her qualifications, none of this would be happening. “Is your cousin on the way? ’Cause I’m expecting more candidates in a minute.”
