I was happy that he could get away, but I cried that night. I felt like he'd used me and abandoned me.
When I saw him again, I was gonna give him hell for it.
Then, I heard that a young brother got shot on our street. I had no idea if it was Malik or not, but I knew it was him when I didn’t see him at school.
His death broke me.
After a few wild weeks, I went back to being a good girl. I convinced myself that Malik was a one-time thing, and I went back to making excuses about finding the right man.
After graduation, I got a job and lived at home. I suppose that I should have thought about going to college, but who needed that? After I married, I wouldn't need a degree, so why waste time and money?
One day I came in, and Momma had torn the house up. She’d wrecked the kitchen, the den, the living room. I swear every dish was broken, all the pictures were torn off the wall, and every draw was empty. I found Momma crying.
She wouldn’t say anything but pointed to a bunch of pictures on the floor. Somebody took photos of Daddy with the pastor’s wife. They were doing it in the back of Daddy’s car.
Daddy was always talking about how good church was, then he goes off and start messing around.
For Momma's sake, I pretended to be angry and hurt. If it had happened before Malik, I would have hated Daddy until the day I died. I would never have forgiven him.
Because of Malik, I understood.
Momma and Daddy were married for a long time. Daddy was good to her. He brought flowers every once in a while, and he saved up to take us on trips. We went to Los Angeles a couple of times and Six Flags in Dallas. Momma ain't showed him no love. If he got too loving, Momma would shove him away like a he was some kinda mangy dog.
Was Daddy supposed to live with that year after year? Maybe he did something to deserve it, or maybe there was something that she needed from him that he wouldn't give?
I can't say.
What I do know is that I don't blame him for getting what he could. The pastor's wife was lonely. The pastor wasn't doing for her.
I wondered if she came to Daddy or if he came to her?
I can't say to that either.
I will say that I learned my lesson well. I wasn't ever getting married. I wasn't going to trust some man to scratch my itch.
The other lesson was that all that virgin, good-girl shit was for fools.
I started getting mine the week after Daddy moved out.
A man down the street paid me $30.00, so he could suck my titties for an hour.
I took his money and took money from almost anyone that handed it over.
I ain't never looked back.
* * *
The years passed quickly. I got pregnant and had a son. I had an idea who the father was, a sorry-ass fool name Charlie. He was a regular of mine for a few years.
Charlie was a fat man with light brown skin and a face that looked as wide as his narrow shoulders. I can't say that I loved him, but I could always get a few extra dollars off him.
He liked to fuck me doggy-style.
After I had my son, Tyson, I tried to go straight for a bit. Daddy would help me out, but he was always more concerned with his new family.
Momma helped. I didn't like asking her for anything because she thought that Daddy had ruined me. I couldn't bring myself to tell her anything different.
* * *
I hadn't planned on going go to our class reunion. I still saw most of those fools at the grocery store, so what was the point? Still, it had been 20 years.
I took the night off from Ba'Donks, which was good because a group from the reunion went club hopping and ended up there. I wasn’t ashamed of stripping, but why buy trouble?
I skipped the picnic but went to the banquet. The food was pretty good. We had a chicken or steak choice with cheesy potatoes, green beans, salad, and a slice of cheesecake.
After dessert, Victor Wells put up a slide show showing pictures of all the popular kids. They even had a section for the young people that didn’t make it. One girl died of cancer, and another didn’t make it back from Iran or Iraq or wherever. Most of the rest died because of street violence or medical violence, a thing I heard on the radio. The DJ said that if you can't pay, they kick you out. They might as well put a gun to your head.
Maybe it was the wine or the brandy or the herb, but I got on stage with my tall-ass shoes and got into Victor’s face.
“Why ain’t Malik up there?"
"Get your drunk ass off the stage," someone yelled.
I could barely focus on Victor. The room was spinning, and I felt like I was going to throw up.
"Malik wasn't perfect, but he was one of us. You can't just leave him off.”
"Why would I put in him the list of the dead?"
"Fuck you, Victor!"
Before I knew it, I was slapping Victor in the head, and someone had to pull me off his ass.
“Why are you sweating me, Beulah? Ain’t my fault that nigga in jail.”
The room stopped spinning and came into very clear focus.
“Wait, what?" I asked.
* * *
They didn't make it easy to see him. He had to fill out a form, mail it to me, and then I had to send it back to the prison folks. Then we had to wait on them to figure their shit out.
I drove out three times before they let me see him.
Musta been a dozen women, most with kids. They were crying and going on with their man on the other end of the line.
When they finally brought Malik, he didn’t look right. His skin was gray and ashy. His eyes were red and full of blood. Even his hair was nappy and stood up high on his head.
I tried to play off how he looked. I was happy to see him.
“I thought you were dead.” Those were the first words I said to him.
“Naw, girl,” he said. “I been trying to get back to you.”
Maybe he was just giving me a line. Lord knows I’ve heard enough niggas lie. A mothafucka can’t even spell the word ‘opportunity’ gonna tell me how he got a full proof plan. He’d gonna have pockets of money soon—so many lies.
I just smiled like I never heard it all before.
Hearing it from Malik? That shit broke me. I started crying.
I wasn’t even there that long. I spent most of the time trying to keep myself presentable as mascara ran down my face.
In the end, it was too much for both of us.
“Yo’ B,” he said. “I appreciate you coming… I love you, but you can’t come here no more.”
“What you mean, I can’t come back?”
“Either I’ma get out and find you or I’ma die in this mothafucka.”
What else is there to say?
* * *
It took years, but Malik got out, and he found me.
We went to the Gideon Motel. It was a little place run by the Lighter Path church. They say that it’s for homeless mothers, but as soon as the night comes and the church people go home, it’s a brothel.
Nikki Clines was working at the front desk that night.
“Malik?” she said as soon as I pulled him through the door. She was staring with her mouth open.
“Keep your eyes to yourself,” I told her. I was kinda playing, but not really.
I must have fucked a thousand men in my life. That's not counting blowjobs, handjobs, and that freaky thing I do with my feet. Malik should have just been another one in the line, but my hands were shaking as I pulled one-dollar bills out of my purse. I just wanted to pay so we could get down to business.
Nikki kept shaking her head. “I can’t believe you out,” she said. “Your ass is all she been talking about since the reunion. She ain’t shut up a second.”
“She all I been thinking about,” he said.
Nikki pushed the money back to me and gave us a key. “Keep your money. Stay as long as you want,” she said. She pulled a box from under the counter. It was full of condoms in all kinds of shapes, colors, and s
izes.
When she saw the look on our faces, she put that shit away. We didn't need them.
Maybe I'd have Malik's baby, or maybe I was too old for that. We were going to find out.
We said all that without using any words.
Nikki tried to play it off, so she said, “Bitch, if you don’t take him to that room right now, I’ma do it.”
I hoped you like this story!
And this is just the beginning. Check out my Black Vegas Romance series on Amazon.com. You’ll find hard-working sistahs meeting strong, loyal men worthy of their love. Buy a hard copy or read it for free with Amazon Kindle Unlimited.
Also by La Tonya Morris
A few more stories you might enjoy.
The Thug in my Closet
You My Girl
Black Vegas Romance Series
You’re My Everything (An Amazon.com exclusive)
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