A Gangster and a Gentleman

by Kiki Swinson

  At first, I stayed in touch with Paulette as best I could. I would call once a month to check in on her. But Paulette was loyal to our mother, and she would tell her all of my business, so eventually I cut Paulette off as well. I kept tabs on her, though. I knew she had graduated from Norfolk State and that she was a registered nurse at Sentara Leigh Hospital. Sometimes I would go by the hospital and just peek at her. I loved my sister, but I couldn’t get past the disdain for my mother, so I stayed away from Paulette too. Even though Paulette was always made to feel like she was the chosen daughter, and as kids she’d exercised her position as the chosen one, I still had love for her deep down inside.

  We walked to Paulette’s car with awkward silence between us. Paulette looked at me strangely when I stopped at the passenger side of her car. “What? You need a ride home too?” Paulette asked angrily, rolling her eyes.

  “I don’t even have a car right now and probably no home either,” I rasped. My mouth was desert dry.

  Paulette sucked her teeth and hit the key fob to let me into the car. I slumped into the passenger seat.

  “So what! Your knight in shining armor, Mr. Big-Time Defense Attorney to the Stars, left your ass for dead?” Paulette asked, chuckling evilly.

  I hung my head and swiped tears from my cheeks. Her words stung. “You know, Paulette, I never meant to walk away from you. But you of all people should know that I couldn’t take how Diane treated me. You were always her favorite. She called me names, beat me, made me go hungry, and when we got older, she would even lock me out of the house for spite. What was I supposed to do when I finally found an escape from her?” I replied.

  Paulette was quiet. I could see her biting down into her lip, thinking about what I was saying. She knew I was right. She’d been there. She’d seen firsthand how my mother abused me. “You were there when she beat me so badly with that broomstick that she knocked out my front tooth, or did you forget about that? What about when she made me stand up for an entire night? I couldn’t sit or lie down. C’mon, Paulette, you were there. When I finally found Richard, I felt like someone had saved me. He was demanding just like Diane, but in the beginning, he treated me like no other person ever had. You have to understand that,” I said sternly. It was the truth. My mother was probably the reason it was so easy for me to give up everything for Richard. I just needed somebody, anybody, to love me.

  “That shit between you and Mommy didn’t have anything to do with me, Melody. After you got rich and moved into your big house, you forgot where you came from. You forgot you had a sister, until now. I guess it’s a lucky thing that I’m not a selfish bitch like you or else you would’ve stayed in jail,” Paulette gritted. She wasn’t trying to hear my pleas. I couldn’t blame her. I knew somewhere deep down inside she understood, though, and that was the reason she’d come to help me in the first place.

  “I know. I’m so sorry,” I said. I had to be humble, although I was burning up inside. Paulette had dredged up things I had worked hard for ten years to suppress. Paulette knew damn well why I left. It just wasn’t the time to dwell on the past.

  “Can I just stay with you tonight until I can sort out what I’m going to do next?” I asked, almost begging. She didn’t answer, but she drove straight to her house. When we pulled up, I don’t think I had ever been so grateful to see the Salem Lakes condominiums in my life.

  4

  “Oh, Richard, I know you’re sorry, baby,” I whispered through tears as Richard hugged me tightly. I pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. “I’ve missed you so bad. I just want you, baby. I just want to feel you inside of me. I want to love you forever,” I said softly, leading Richard over to the bed. He didn’t say a word. I knew he was sorry because he had tears in his eyes. I laid him down and began undressing him. His dick greeted me as I removed his boxers. It was so hard, so thick, so lovely. I took it in my hands and stroked it. I wanted it to fill me up. I wanted it to fill the void Richard had left in my heart. Richard closed his eyes and threw his head back. He relaxed onto the bed. Once all of his clothes were off, I climbed on top of him. I leaned over him and began kissing his neck, his face, and then I thrust my tongue down his throat. Richard was breathing hard and so was I. “I love you. I know you’re sorry, Richard. I know you don’t want Christina over me, baby,” I said, panting. Richard kept his eyes closed. He wouldn’t say anything. I just wanted him to say sorry. I wanted him to tell me he loved me. I slipped my hands under the pillow. “I’m going to give it to you now, baby,” I whispered. Richard grunted.

  “Look at me,” I said softly. “Please, Richard, baby, look me in the eye,” I cooed. He opened his eyes slowly. Richard’s eyes went wide as tea saucers. I placed my hand over his mouth roughly. Richard was paralyzed with fear as he stared down the barrel of the shiny black 9mm Glock I had recently purchased just for the occasion.

  “Did you think I would forgive you for what you did to me, you piece of shit?” I spat.

  “Mmm,” he moaned. I put my finger on the trigger and began to pull it back. Richard opened his mouth to scream. BANG!

  “Huh, huh, huh.” I jumped up out of my sleep, covered in sweat. I was shaking all over from the nightmare. It was always so real. I looked around the room frantically and touched myself just to make sure I was really awake and it was really a dream. I had been having the same dream night after night. It was a recurring nightmare—me killing Richard. Every time it was in a different way. I had to wonder if it was a recurring obsession in my subconscious. I flopped back onto the pillow when I realized where I was. Paulette had allowed me to take up residence in her guest room. After our initial dustup about the past, she and I had had a long talk. We had opened the floodgates of confessions and memories. Some good and some bad. We had made it a habit of sitting up at nights when she got home from work and exchanging stories about the past couple of years of our lives. We quickly buried the hatchet. It was easy without the influence of Diane, our hateful-ass mother. Paulette cried and so did I when we spoke about how Diane had all but tortured me as a kid. Paulette said she was just scared to make Diane mad at her; that’s why she’d always done Diane’s bidding and always treated me like shit.

  Paulette was doing things to try and cheer me up, to take my mind off Richard. She even accompanied me to the bank, where I was devastated to find out that Richard had closed all of our accounts and cut off my monthly allowance. Paulette and I also weren’t able to retrieve any of my belongings from my home when she’d driven me back there. That bastard Richard had actually had the doors padlocked and had put the house on the market. He did leave me a nice little envelope taped to the door. The note on the front said, “Melody, I knew you’d come, so I left this for you.” Inside was the prenuptial agreement that I had signed way back when like a dumb bitch. When Paulette had asked me why I was stupid enough to sign a prenup, I had to admit I had been too head over heels in love to read carefully when Richard had urged me to sign it.

  Paulette took me to see a friend of hers who was one of the best divorce attorneys in Virginia. The woman had raised her eyebrows as she looked over the paperwork. She sighed loudly and folded her hands on her desk gravely. “Melody, I’m sorry, but with your signature on this paperwork, you locked yourself out of everything once the divorce is finalized,” the attorney had said. She continued to explain things, although I could no longer hear what she was saying. I left her office in a stupor. Paulette explained to me that basically, the papers summed up the fact that unless Richard suffered an untimely death while we were still married, I wouldn’t get a fucking red cent. He would have to die while we were still legally married in order for me to get his assets and cash in on our joint insurance policy of three million dollars. After hearing the full explanation, my knees had buckled. Paulette had to help me get back into her car. She had tried in vain to comfort me all the way back to her condo. There was no use; I had cried and screamed and threw tantrums, but Paulette and I both concluded that there wasn’t shit I could do—un
less I was going to kill the motherfucker to collect the money.

  “Mel?” I heard Paulette shout as she arrived home from work.

  I had been lying in bed for yet another day, going through my bouts of sorrow, then anger, but never acceptance. I still could not believe Richard had done me so fucking dirty. He had portrayed himself as the perfect gentleman. Always refined and debonair. That motherfucker was no better than a two-bit street thug with the way he treated me.

  “Mel? You up here?” Paulette called out again.

  I wanted to hide under the covers and tell her to go away. I knew Paulette would just keep on, so I gave in. I got out of the bed and opened the door. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?” I answered her, trying to hide the fact that I had just recently been crying.

  “Girl, you better get it together and get out of this house before you go crazy,” Paulette said with concern.

  “I don’t feel like even getting up to go to the bathroom, Paulie. For real, I am so devastated. Without you . . . I don’t know . . . ,” I started, with the waterworks not far behind. Paulette threw up her hand and cut me off. She wasn’t trying to hear me with the pity party.

  “We said we wasn’t dwelling on no past bullshit, right? Then stop it,” she chastised. “He is not the last man, nor the last dick on earth, Melody. You are a beautiful woman in the prime of her life. C’mon, I’m going out tonight and you are too,” Paulette said demandingly. Then she let a warm smile spread across her face. “It has been ages since we went out together. C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she urged, giggling. She was just trying to get me out of my slump. I appreciated it, but I just couldn’t imagine even washing my ass, much less going out around a bunch of strangers.

  “I am not going out! What the hell am I supposed to wear?” I snapped. I thought it was cruel of her to even suggest we go out, since she knew all of my shit was gone.

  “Your ass ain’t above wearing your sister’s clothes, Melody. What, you think I can’t keep up with your style?” Paulette chided. I was quiet. She sucked her teeth. “You better follow me to my closet, then, girly. Shit, you think I don’t have Gucci stilettos you can borrow?” Paulette said snidely.

  I felt my cheeks flame over. She could tell I was thinking that she could never keep up with my style or my previous lifestyle. That was how I had become accustomed to thinking. That everyone else was beneath me. I felt awful.

  “That’s not what I meant, Paulette. I’m just depressed, that’s all,” I said apologetically.

  “Well going out is the perfect cure for being depressed. You’ll enjoy being out with people who live in reality . . . not like those hoity-toity bitches you’re used to hanging with. Those bitches who have no life outside of what their husbands give them. I can picture y’all now sitting in a fucking bar, all decked out in Hervé Léger, Christian Louboutin, and turning y’all fucking noses up at every chick and every dude in the place. Grown-ass women with the mean girl’s syndrome,” Paulette rattled off cruelly.

  I felt ashamed again. She was right on the money with her assessment. My so-called friends and I would go out, all dressed up, and not even dance. It was all about the fashion statement or just to see which one of us would repeat a dress or pair of shoes. Real superficial shit now that I think about it. It was all we had to do while our husbands were on travel, fucking their secretaries or, in my case, fucking their work partners.

  “We danced sometimes,” I lied, embarrassed because Paulette was absolutely right.

  “Yeah, right, bitch!” Paulette quipped. She sucked her teeth. “Melody, you can tell that shit to somebody you can pay to believe it. Just c’mon and let’s go pick out something to wear so we can hit the damn town,” Paulette replied.

  I followed her into her bedroom. I wanted to just hug her ass over and over again. She had no clue how grateful I was to have her at a time like this. If I ever came into some money again, Paulette was going to be the only person I took care of. She was also the only person I had left in the world.

  When Paulette and I stepped into the club, I could feel all eyes on us. It was the effect of the outfits we had managed to put together. I had been pleasantly surprised by Paulette’s closet. Her shit wasn’t shabby at all. She had a lot of labels I once owned myself, and more impressive to me was the fact that she had bought them with her own hard-earned money. Paulette had chosen an orange and purple Hervé Léger minidress for me. When I put it on, the shit looked like it had been tailor made for me. I grabbed a pair of Jimmy Choos from her shoe wall to top the outfit off. Paulette wore a Lanvin silk dress with a plunging neckline and some Giancarlo Lorenzi pumps. The aqua-green color of her dress complemented her skin so well she seemed to glow. We were a pair of fine-ass sisters if I did say so myself. Once we were inside the club for a few minutes, Paulette finally spotted who she was looking for.

  Paulette waved at her friend Trina who was meeting us here. We walked over to Trina, who was sitting at a lounge seat with a small table in front of it. Paulette and Trina hugged, and I just fell back. Paulette introduced us and I just cracked a fake halfhearted smile. I immediately got a bad vibe from Trina. Something about her didn’t sit right with me. Maybe it was that she was dressed like a cheap hoochie and her wig was horrible. I shook off the bad thoughts about Trina. I was making a snap judgment, something I had also grown accustomed to doing since being married to Richard.

  I think my immediate disdain for Trina had more to do with the fact that I was jealous that my sister was paying attention to someone else. The music in the club was hitting. It made me want to move my body, but I was so used to being a stuck-up snob whenever I went out, I just sat down and struck a pretty pose. As Paulette and Trina yapped on about nothing, I had a fleeting thought about Richard. It was like he just popped into my head. I locked my jaw and closed my eyes for a minute. Once again, I could see Richard lying dead, bleeding from his head. I popped my eyes open real quick. Damn. Do I want his ass dead that bad? I thought.

  “Melody, what do you want to drink?” Paulette whined in my ear, breaking up my violent thoughts.

  I shrugged.

  “You’re so damn boring!” Paulette chastised. She took the lead and ordered us our first round of drinks. Of course she was paying. I didn’t have a fucking dime, and it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I was carrying a damn Marc Jacobs clutch that belonged to my sister, and it didn’t have one dollar in it. As the night wore on, I wanted to just scream. Being out had not helped me to get my situation off my mind. Plus, Trina was annoying to me. Her voice was high-pitched and ghetto. She smacked her lips a lot, and after a while I began downing drink after drink just to tune that bitch out. Trina was also loud, so we were attracting more attention than I thought was necessary.

  There were lots of eyes on us. Even the eyes of the hood rat dudes I would never give the time of day. “I’ll be right back,” I told Paulette in an annoyed voice. When I stood up, I could feel myself swaying. I was feeling really good; the liquor coursing through my system had me feeling like I had no cares in the world. I stumbled into the bathroom. Inside, I looked at myself and smiled evilly. If Richard could see me now, moving on, having fun—totally different from the conservative boring trophy wife he had cultivated. After a few minutes, my face changed. Who the fuck was I kidding? I wasn’t happy. Standing here in my sister’s borrowed clothes. No fucking money in my pocketbook. No clue on what my next move would be for my life. At thirty-five years old, was I going to go back to school and try to build my own life? Probably not. Shit, how was I going to pay for law school now? I guess I could start over as a paralegal . . . but once I said I haven’t worked in ten years, what would a potential employer think? These thoughts had me boiling inside. I balled my hands into fists and clenched my jaw. My chest rose and fell with anger. “You will pay, you fucker!” I gritted under my breath. My head was swaying with anger and liquor.

  I rushed out of the bathroom, still wobbly as hell. I just wanted to go home now. I couldn’t stand being out anymore w
ith all of the recurring thoughts about Richard. “Ugh!” I grunted as I ran headfirst into someone. I hit the person so hard I almost fell. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” I slurred. I put my hand over my mouth. I had run into a guy and spilled his drink all over his crisp white shirt.

  “It’s a’ight, Ma,” the guy said smoothly as he simply brushed his shirt off.

  “I can’t believe I ruined your shirt,” I said apologetically. I wanted to reach out and try to clean it, but I thought better of that idea.

  “No worries . . . there are more where this came from, baby girl,” the guy assured me, his deep voice making me want to take a good look at him. When I finally scanned his face, I felt slightly flush. Damn! I thought. He was fine in a rugged thug type of way. I was immediately aware that I was blushing like hell. He was the complete opposite of Richard, which may have been why I felt an instant attraction to him. Richard was a gentleman for the most part, but this guy was definitely, in my assessment, a gangsta.

  “I’m Scotty. All my friends call me Lil Man,” the guy said, extending his hand for a shake.

  I batted my eyelashes and exhaled. Damn. He was so fucking attractive.

  “I’m Melody. My friends call me Melody,” I said, chuckling at my own joke.

  Scotty smiled and we both laughed. I took in all of his features. Scotty stood at least six feet tall, and he sported a low Cesar haircut. I could see that he had tattoos covering most of his arms like sleeves and some coming up out of his shirt on his chest and neck. The thing that stuck out the most were the deep dimples in both of his cheeks. I guess those beautiful dimples stuck out because they were so cute while everything else on Scotty was so fucking gangsta.