If she tried to contact Khalil, she couldn’t. The day I began to bring my things over he changed the numbers to his cell and the house. He did everything he could think of to make me more comfortable. He asked me what colors I wanted the place painted, and even cleaned out the garage and put an electric opener on it for me to park the car in.
My second night there I sat on the couch relaxing, waiting for him to come home from a job. Khalil only worked on location five or six months out of the year. The rest of the time he did some freelance work filming performances at the concert venues such as the Warner Theatre, the 9:30 Club, and Constitution Hall. It was two thirty in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. Staring up at the ceiling I began to wonder what I was doing. I had cooked and cleaned. The house smelled so good that it could have passed for a Bath & Body Works store. Had I really gone domestic? Would I be able to keep it up? Was it really possible to turn a hooker into a housewife?
I heard Priest’s voice in my head the day I’d referred to Khalil as my man: “Your man? Bitch, you’re a fucking whore. A high-class one, but still a whore nonetheless. Any man who’s claiming you has got to be some pussy-whipped idiot. C’mon now.”
I thought about what he said and I wondered if he was right about me. I tried to fight it but tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged the pillow. I had allowed him to not only judge me, but to label me as well. This was something that I never did. Who was he? He was a fag and a cheat.
I’d done what I had to. The world had taken everything from me that I needed most. My father, my mother, Manny, and even Rorrie. I had nothing to push me but me. Was I wrong because I chose not to be poor or work a job I hated, probably in the food court or retail, for a few bucks an hour, while I watched women who didn’t look half as good as me live the good life and shop?
I didn’t have a college fund. I didn’t have shit. The only thing I had was my looks and this special package between my legs. And even though I’d questioned it for years, there was no denying that it was special. I’d watched man after man go crazy in it, and jump through whatever hoops I required in order for them to get it again. Looking around the house and the life I’d stolen from my childhood friend, I began to wonder if my ability to sex men up was a gift or a curse. Here I’d landed a man, one who, for the first time, simply made me feel good, and I felt like an impostor. What started as nothing more than revenge had now become the future I desired, yet I was worried that it could all be snatched away.
I picked the phone up and dialed Cheron, looking to get some support. I was shocked when she answered. “Girl, what are you doing up?”
“I just got in. I went to see that group I was telling you about, Fertile Ground. They did a show at a club in Baltimore called Sonar.”
“Was it nice?”
“Really nice, but my date was whack. The entire night he talked about his job and his motorcycle. Plus you know we can’t stand niggas who wear cheap shoes.”
We both laughed. “Bad, huh?”
“Bad ain’t the word. I coulda sworn that Hush Puppies weren’t in season or in style the last time I checked. I mean what type of guy wears suede shoes with shorts anyway? And this fool actually thought I was going to go home with him. I started to tell him that I’d take a bullet with no batteries over a night with his ass.” I laughed again but when I trailed off she said, “So what’s up with you?”
“I don’t even know. I’m sitting up here in this house, kinda wondering if I belong here. Wondering if I belong with him.”
“Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t you?”
The words were burned in my brain. “Bitch, you’re a fucking whore. A high-class one, but still a whore nonetheless. Any man who’s claiming you has got to be some pussy-whipped idiot. C’mon now.”
“It’s my past…I just keep thinking that if he ever found out…”
“Hold on,” she said. “Let me pull my shirt off.” A second later she continued with, “Listen, sweetie, you know I’m not about sugar coating things so I’ma tell you straight up. What you do, or did, for a living wasn’t right or you would be proud of it. But dammit, we’ve all done things that we aren’t proud of. You are no different from anyone else who’s used crime to come up. The Rockefellers, the Kennedys, hell even the Bushes kept it gangster for the oil. The difference is that you didn’t hurt anyone to get yours.”
“But you still didn’t answer what if he finds out?”
“Cross that bridge only if you come to it. Listen, you could always tell him yourself and that way no one could have anything on you.”
“Yeah, right. Tell him that I sold pussy?”
“You know what’s funny?” she said with a serious tone. “Most women have slept with more guys for free than you have for money.”
She didn’t really know that for sure. I’d only told her about ten guys. In truth there’d been far more than that over the years. Still I replied, “You’re right.”
“So why don’t you just get over this nonsense and be happy you found someone. You have left that life alone, right?”
“Absolutely. I am retired.”
“Well then. Just concentrate on being that homemaker and his whore and I assure you, he’ll ask very few questions. Men are just dumb like that.”
Cheron was nuts. She went on for ten minutes telling me that I was worthy and deserving. She claimed that men wanted good sex and a woman who they were attracted to. As long as a woman knew what she was doing and treated her man to as much loving as he could handle, a man wouldn’t care if she landed on this planet from Mars. I thought about how many men had used the line “Let me take you away from this.” They’d all promised marriage, kids, and a home. Here, Khalil had done all I’d asked and more that I didn’t to make me feel at home.
In between being crude, she made some good points. I appreciated her efforts to make me feel better. It had worked a little. “Thanks so much for talking to me.”
“Girl, whatever. When are you going to come pick Madison up? She keep asking about you.”
“Next weekend. There’s a festival down on the Mall I’d like to take her to.”
“Sounds good.”
I remembered another important thing. “I had one last date on my books and I was wondering if you wanted to take it before I called to cancel it?”
“Hmmmm,” she said. “Is he a gentleman like that Miles?”
“If you liked Miles you’ll love this guy. He’s a hotshot lawyer. Really laid back, loaded with money, and even though he lives in town he’s very discreet.”
“That means he has a wife.”
I laughed at her sharpness. “Exactly.”
“How much?”
“Ten, fifteen grand. He may get a little kinky for that kind of money and I’ll just put it out there about the wife. He said she likes to watch.”
“You have got to be kidding.”
“No, I’m not. They’ll try and videotape if you let them, but for that you can charge double.”
“Are you saying you been with them and let them tape you?”
“No, I didn’t, but if you want to make the money, the option’s yours.” The truth of the matter was that I’d never worked with this guy before, but if I’d told Cheron that she would have balked at the opportunity to earn the money. What I knew I’d learned from him through our e-mail correspondence.
“Wow,” she said. “So you’re really leaving it alone. This man of yours must be either rich or he must have a dick made of pure gold.”
I giggled. “Girl, you sick.” Then I added, “He ain’t rich.”
We laughed together. “Well I’ll tell you what, I’ll do this appointment, because hell, ten Gs is ten Gs, but please don’t tempt me anymore. You are not going to turn me out as if your name is Heidi Fleiss.”
“Deal.”
I gave her the date and the time. It was three weeks off. We hung up and I sat up and wiped away a couple of tear stains that had formed on my cheeks. By sending Cheron on that appointment I was comple
tely done with that world. I was walking away from money that sometimes seemed too easy to make, yet I was overjoyed. All I could think of was the future with Khalil.
I couldn’t tell, because I’d never been here before, but I was beginning to think that I might be in love. I dozed off on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, thinking of him.
“Hey, baby,” he said, nudging me awake. I looked up and saw Khalil’s body standing above me. “Sweetie, let me help you up so we can go upstairs.”
I was so out of it he bent down, picked me up, and carried me. Feeling the heat from his body I wanted to make love to him but I was in too deep a fog. As usual I was stirred by the fact that he smelled so good, but I still couldn’t snap out of my haze. In fact, I barely remembered us going up the stairs or us sliding into bed.
I do remember the banging that stirred us awake at six thirty in the morning. “What in the world?” I heard Khalil say as he sat up in the bed like a shell-shocked veteran hearing a loud boom.
The second set of bangs came harder. He stood up. I did the same thing as I watched him head out of the bedroom door. He didn’t look for a weapon, which told me that he wasn’t really scared of anyone who might be on the other side. Me being a woman, I was prepared for what I believed was the inevitable. I’d been doing sit-ups, crunches, push-ups, and Tae Bo for the last month, getting ready for this.
I grabbed a pair of tights and slipped on a pair of Air Force 1s. I already was in a wife beater. As I headed down the steps, I heard her voice. I put my hair into a ponytail and began to stretch my arms behind my head.
I walked through the living room and stood ready to step outside when Khalil looked back at me. He pushed the door closed so that Rorrie couldn’t see inside and then he shook his head no. He pointed back to me and said firmly, “Go back upstairs.”
I folded my arms as if to let him know that he was going to have to handle this and that I was ready to do whatever if he didn’t. His face turned into a scowl and he repeated: “Go back upstairs, now.”
I stood my ground but still stepped back and took a seat on the wooden chair that sat in the hallway. I was going to listen at the least. “Rorrie, I’ve taken all of your things to your mother’s. You don’t have any reason to be here.”
“How can you say this to me? After everything we’ve been through. How can you throw it all away for some other bitch? I’m a goddamned doctor. I know I’m beautiful. What does she have that I don’t?”
“It’s not about that. But you can’t just come over here like this.”
“Well I’ve been calling you, but you changed the numbers, just like you changed these locks.”
“Rorrie, things had been bad for a while with us. It’s not like you didn’t have any warning.”
“How can you say that? I never thought you’d cheat on me.” She began to cry. “I hate you.”
He was silent.
She kicked the storm door and yelled again. “I know that bitch is in there.”
“Rorrie, don’t make me call the police.”
“Go ahead and call the police you faggot. As a matter of fact, you’d better call the fire department too, ’cause I’m going to burn this motherfucker to the ground while you sleep.”
I would have been cool but the threat sent a jolt of anger through me. I knew that she had it in her to be incredibly jealous, but to hear her make threats like that was shocking. Khalil may not have known what she was capable of doing in desperation, but I did. She was still mouthing off, “Khalil, you sorry son of a bitch. Your movie isn’t gonna be shit. You’ll be nothing without me. What’s so great about this bitch? Tell me…tell me…” she was yelling now.
Suddenly I heard my mother’s voice. Hailey, she said. Go ahead and whip her ass. Beat her like she stole something.
With that, I stormed the door and attempted to get past Khalil but he was much faster and stronger than I would have guessed. With only one arm, he grabbed my waist, spun me around, and with his free hand slammed the door shut.
“I don’t want this,” he said. He had me in his grip. “I don’t want the fighting. We can move. We can leave here today.” Rorrie began banging. “I’m calling the police,” he said. “I don’t want my woman fighting like this.”
“No Khalil. Let me go.”
His next words froze me. “What if you’re pregnant?”
I stood still when he said that. The banging had stopped. Everything was quiet again. I thought about his words. They were full of concern and it was the strangest thing. I hadn’t had anyone speak words of concern for me in so long that it actually stunned me. I hadn’t had anyone worry about me in years. The look on his face assured me that the season of me drifting through life alone was truly over. I wasn’t alone anymore. In that moment I knew that our spirits were connected. I didn’t need to get Rorrie back. I didn’t need revenge. Life itself had taken care of everything. She was out there broken. She’d taken everything from me first and now I was doing it to her. I didn’t need to lift a finger against her. She was reaping what she’d sown.
We were eye to eye. No hint of sadness or remorse for having to turn Rorrie away. He belonged to me. I finally responded to his question. “Why would you ask that?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. It just popped into my head. But if you are, I don’t want you fighting. So please go up…” he didn’t get the words out when the sound of breaking glass scared us both. We looked down and saw a brick on the floor.
He moved toward the door and yelled out to her. A second later she pulled off and her tires squealed as she reached the corner. I knew that Khalil didn’t want me fighting. He’d said it. I also knew that he was concerned about me and the possibility that I could be pregnant, which blew my mind.
As I stared down at the brick the only thing I could focus on was the fact that I knew where Rorrie’s mother lived and then I tried to imagine the look on her face when she saw the same brick on the floor in her mother’s living room.
20
KHALIL
Imagine my surprise when I walked through my therapist’s door and saw her swaying slowly to the music that she played through the speakers on her computer. She was standing up and listening to Janet Jackson while she sipped from a bottle of fruit O water and dancing in a manner that was actually enticing.
Her secretary had sent me in even though I’d arrived ten minutes early. Cameron obviously hadn’t buzzed for me. She usually wore a blazer but today she was clad in a snug-fitting, Baby Phat, polo-style shirt and a jean skirt that shocked me by revealing an outstanding shape.
I knocked on the door to get her attention. She turned around and from the look of embarrassment on her face it was apparent that if she were white she would have turned as red as a can of Coca-Cola. “That must be some bottle of water.” I laughed to break the ice.
She looked at her watch and then laughed it off. “You’re early. Was Jackie at the desk?”
“Yeah, she sent me in.”
She nodded then grabbed her sweater from her chair. “Excuse me for one second.” Cameron headed out of the office, surely to go chew her secretary out.
When she walked back in three minutes later she was wearing her sweater and she seemed fine. I’d already taken a seat and she was ready to get down to business.
“So how have you been Khalil?”
“I’ve actually been good.”
“The dreams? No recurrences?”
“No not really. I mean no.” She nodded suspiciously or my mind was working too hard. Changing the subject I blurted out, “I saw the woman who abandoned me as a child. I saw her at the airport in L.A.”
“You mean your mother?”
“No, Frannie. She was my father’s girlfriend.”
She scribbled down something. “So she wasn’t your mother, but you chose to use the word abandoned. Why do you think that is?”
“Well, she was like a mother to me. The only mother I knew for the early years of my life.”
“I remem
ber the story. I have to ask you a question though. Now that you are an adult, do you think it was her responsibility to take care of you?”
“Not legally, no I don’t, but morally, yes. Yes I do. In the same position, it’s what I would do. She knew what she was leaving me behind to face.”
“You mean the drugs or the sexual abuse?”
“All of it. She left me behind. She knew what I was facing. She knew my father was on drugs, though it did get worse, or rather, out of control when she left. She still had to know that there was no way I’d be okay after she left.”
“So do you blame her or your father for what happened to you? For the life you lived.”
“You mean the life I didn’t live.”
She shrugged. “Or do you blame yourself?”
My eyebrows rose. “Why would I blame myself?”
“You’d be surprised. Victims do it all the time.”
“But I was only a kid. What could I have done?”
“That’s the question. Maybe you think you could have done something. Fought her off. Told someone. Gone to the authorities about the drugs or the abuse.”
“Cameron, no kid does…”
“You’d be surprised. Each case is different though. We’re talking about you.”
“I blame my father. He wasn’t a real man. A real man takes care of his child. I blame my mother. She was weak and evil and selfish. And I blame Frannie, because she wasn’t like my parents. She could have helped. She could have saved me.” I felt the tears beginning to come. I was embarrassed that she was taking me there.
Her face showed compassion now. “Khalil, if you need…”
I interrupted her as a thought flooded my mind. “I could have done something but…” The same compassionate stare. She was waiting for this. “…I could have stopped it, but I think I liked it. I liked what she did to me. I hadn’t had anything good in my life for a long time. No one else paid me any attention good or bad. Tenille was the only one,” I said as I began to cry the tears of shame. I covered my face and let it all out.
A Taste of Honey Page 14
