Going Broke

by Trista Russell

  For the next thirty minutes, I posed at his command.

  “Smile.”

  “Pinch your nipples.”

  “Open your legs.”

  “Spread your pussy lips.”

  “Finger it.”

  I figured as long as I was in the pictures alone they couldn’t do any harm. Maybe he’d be nice enough to send me some copies.

  He continued, “Look mean.”

  “Look horny.”

  “Finger it some more, yeah, girl.”

  He got naked as he was taking snapshots and detached the camera from the stand. He walked over to the bed and asked me to sit up. He held his erect penis out and angled the camera down at it. “Here, suck it.”

  I smiled. “Put the camera down first.”

  “Come on,” he begged playfully.

  “Put the camera down, and we can play. I don’t want you to take pictures of me doing that.”

  He moved his hand and ran it over my head aggressively. “Suck the fuckin’ thing.”

  “No.”

  I tried to stand up, but he pushed me down and grabbed my neck.

  “Bitch, suck my dick, or I’ll hurt you.” His hands were big and strong, and I was afraid that I wouldn’t leave the room alive if I didn’t comply.

  “Okay, okay.” I managed to get the word past his tight grip. I put him in my mouth and closed my eyes, but they trembled each time I heard the flash go off.

  “Take it all the way in,” he instructed over and over again, picture after picture.

  “See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He rested the camera on the dresser and got a rubber from the drawer. He slid it on as he walked toward the bed. “I’m a rough guy, Michelle. Just do whatever I tell you to do, and everything will be all right.”

  Though I felt like crying, I was glad that the picture session was over.

  “Come here.” He wanted me to lie belly up on the edge of the bed. He pushed himself inside of me. The weight of his body told me that I wasn’t going anywhere until he wanted me to. “Why are you so damn stiff?” he asked, upset with my lack of participation. “Move your ass.”

  “You’re too heavy.”

  “Fuck you.” He slapped me so hard that I almost didn’t think it happened. I just felt the sting. “Move that ass.”

  “What the fuck? You don’t have to hit me.”

  “I will beat your ass, if you don’t fuck me right.”

  The way he was looking at me told me that this wasn’t just a fetish; he was a violent guy.

  I grinded into his body wildly. There was no passion; I was just scared out of my mind. “Please don’t hit me again.”

  I closed my eyes. I don’t think I prayed as much in my whole life as I did while Norman was on top of me. If this was the lesson I was supposed to learn, then I had.

  A few minutes into forcing my body to enjoy him, I heard the sound of snapping and the flash of the camera. I opened my eyes and saw a naked man walking around the room taking pictures. “Oh my God,” I said.

  “That’s right, baby—two for the price of one,” Norman said as he pulled out. “Get on your knees.”

  I did, and he tore into me like there was no tomorrow.

  The other man was also tall, but he was thin. He was taking pictures of everything that Norman and I did.

  I stared at him. I couldn’t see his face behind the camera, but I kept mouthing the word please, hoping that he’d pull his friend away from me.

  Instead, he put down the camera and positioned himself on the bed in front of me and started touching himself. “Suck him.”

  When I hesitated, Norman grabbed me by the back of my neck and forced my head down on the man.

  I was crying, and the man could see it. As I sucked him, he wiped my tears away. I was trembling. He pitied me and pulled his tool away from my mouth.

  I continued to move my head up and down so that Norman, watching from behind, would still think I was doing it.

  “That’s right. Suck that dick, you nasty bitch,” Norman commanded.

  The man made faces and groaned so that Norman would believe even more.

  Just when I couldn’t take it anymore I heard a faint digital cry.

  “Shit,” Norman said.

  The man said, “You better get that. I told her you were gonna call her back. She’s gonna think something.”

  “You wanna fuck her, Tee?” Norman asked the man.

  The man lied, “Naw, she’s doing a good job right here.”

  I continued to pretend to have him between my lips.

  “Okay.” Norman pulled himself from me and spanked my behind twice. “Keep sucking. I’ll be back.” He picked up his cell phone from the top of the television. “Love of my life.” He chuckled. “I know, Shelia, I was out taking some pictures of the landscape earlier . . .” His voice trailed into the bathroom, and I heard the door close.

  I jumped up and looked at the man. “Please let me go.”

  “He won’t be long,” he said.

  “Will you let me go?” I cried and begged. “Please.”

  He thought about it. “Hurry up.”

  I jumped out of the bed and grabbed my jeans, shirt, shoes, and purse. I left the envelope with the money next to the lamp but grabbed the camera and the three rolls of film sitting next to it. I looked at the man.

  “Get out,” he whispered.

  “Thanks,” I mouthed, then ran to the door and out. I was naked but who cared. There was no one in the hallway, but even if there were, they’d have to deal with it.

  I ran my narrow, brown behind to the stairwell and continued running all the way from the thirteenth floor to the eighth floor, before I stopped to put on my clothing. Even then I rushed, putting my shirt on backwards and my jeans on the wrong side. I finally made my way down to the third floor and burst into my room like I was a burglar.

  I packed up everything I brought with me and called the front desk to get me a cab.

  The receptionist said that one was already waiting out front.

  I scurried from my room and walked through the lobby looking like someone who didn’t belong. I didn’t check out, I just left.

  “Take me to this address, please.” I handed the cab driver a piece of paper. I looked around and cried as we pulled off.

  Thirty minutes later, I was pulling my suitcase behind me to door number nine of the Red Bush apartment complex.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Sarai.”

  “Who?”

  I knew he’d be surprised. “It’s your sexy sister,” I said anxiously. It had been a year and a half since I’d seen him. “Open the door, Savion.”

  It took him a minute to do so, and when he did, I saw why he hesitated. My brother looked like he had lost fifty pounds.

  “Savvy, what’s wrong with you?” It was the first thing I could say. He was so malnourished it seemed as though it hurt him to walk. “Are you okay?”

  He threw his arms around me. “No.” He held me tightly. “No, I’m not okay.”

  I walked into his apartment and didn’t make it past the sofa. “Talk to me.” I pulled him next to me. “Talk to me.”

  This evil grip that this day had on me was a tight one. Savion confessed to me that while he worked as a personal trainer in Houston, not only was he sleeping with female clients, but also his male customers. He had been living a double life as a bisexual man for the past five years.

  His choice of lifestyle wore him down fast in Texas, but the most devastating blow of all was learning that Trina, his ex-girlfriend back in Dover, was killed by a man who learned he had contracted HIV from her.

  Seeing how dangerous things could get, he packed up and moved to Atlanta, without informing any of his female, gay, or “straight” partners. He was afraid that once they found out, his life would be in jeopardy in more ways than one.

  I held his frail body in my arms, and my twin soul and I cried together.

  Later that evening, Conrad called. Before he
had a chance to ask me what happened, I told him what Norman did to me and that I was out. He begged me not to quit, promising that he’d never put me in a dangerous position again.

  All of his words fell on deaf ears; I wasn’t going through that again.

  He vowed to change the screening process for his clients, but my answer was still no.

  Just like that, Conrad baited the hook and sweetened the bargain. He offered me business for youplanmytrip.com, telling me that I no longer had to entertain. Stefani needed help, so I would be in charge of all the Elite’s travel plans. He had me; I was still in the establishment.

  I stayed in Atlanta a week longer than I was scheduled to, which meant missing Mrs. White’s funeral, but Tremel understood that I wanted to help my brother deal with his illness. I went with Savion to his weekly doctor appointment and also to see his counselor. We might not have beat it medically, but Savion and I had planned to beat the disease emotionally. He needed to know that someone still loved the mess out of him—me. He wasn’t dying from AIDS; he was living with AIDS.

  “You aren’t wealthy until you have something

  money can’t buy.”

  —Garth Brooks

  Bank Statement # 12

  Account Balance: $5,339.30

  I walked through the airport, trying hard to hold back a smile. I was anticipating seeing Tremel at any moment, certain he’d surprise me again. However, I made it all the way to my truck without spotting him. As I loaded my luggage into the trunk, I looked around on edge, expecting him to startle me. I wanted to feel his presence, smell his sexy cologne, and look into his eyes. I had been unfaithful, and longed to tell him that I was sorry with my body, because he’d never forgive me if I said it with my mouth.

  I pulled into my apartment complex, and the security gate wouldn’t open. I blew the horn until Manny wobbled from the booth with an envelope.

  He had the heaviest Spanish accent outside of Cuba, “Bonita lady, someone bringa dis fa joo.”

  I smiled as I looked at the padded yellow envelope. Eviction notices were normally pink, right? So it wasn’t that.

  When the gate opened, I couldn’t wait to park. It didn’t matter how far I was from the elevator; I pulled into the first space I saw. In the envelope, there wasn’t a note but a CD. The cover of the CD was a sexy, shirtless picture of Tremel from the back, sitting on the beach. In big, bold black letters on top it read: TreMelody. On the bottom, it simply said: Forgotten.

  I looked at the CD again. “Forgotten?” I said aloud. What was he trying to say?

  I rushed out of the garage and all but burst into my apartment. Forget unpacking, peeing, eating, and making phone calls, I raced to the stereo, jammed the CD in, and turned the volume to the highest.

  The music was seductive, starting with a saxophone, then a piano joined, the drums came in slowly after, and Tremel sang, “Yeah.” The digital synthesizers dropped in with a sexy, funky beat, and I fell into the loveseat. It seemed like Tremel was right there. “Oh yeah.”

  It’s been a while since I’ve been in this boat.

  But the one thing I remember, lady, is how to stay afloat.

  Please don’t swim away,

  There’s something I have to say.

  Baby, you don’t have to respond,

  Just don’t stop feeling our bond.

  You are something I thought only dreams would let be.

  I can’t remember my life prior to you and me.

  I had forgotten how to live, forgotten how to give.

  I forgot how to trust, and how to lust.

  But through you I learned to care.

  Please forgive me if this seems rare.

  But before you came along, and way before I wrote this song,

  I had forgotten.

  Willing to do whatever it’ll take.

  Willing to move slowly, can’t afford a mistake.

  Ninety-nine just won’t do;

  Make one hundred percent man out of me.

  Put my key in your lock; set your soul free.

  If you passed me by, it would’ve been a great regret.

  I want you to be that one person I’ll never forget.

  Because you took the time to walk my way,

  Lady, this is what I’ve been longing to say.

  Give me reasons to forget everything I knew.

  Give me reasons to remember only you,

  the one that finally got through.

  I don’t need to know any that I’ve forgotten.

  I’m opened to you and I’ll spoil you rotten.

  I’m no longer afraid; love me.

  Make my heart what I know it could be,

  so that forgetting will be just a memory.

  I had forgotten how to live, forgotten how to give.

  I forgot how to trust, and how to lust.

  But through you I learned to care.

  Please forgive me if this seems rare.

  But before you came along, and way before I wrote this song,

  I had forgotten.

  Now that I’ve found you,

  My life seems brand new.

  So you’ll never be . . . forgotten.

  “Forgotten” was absolutely beautiful. I sat in shock for at least three minutes after the song was over. Tremel had sung for me prior to this, but we were always joking around. However, on the CD his range was something serious. He sounded like he had a recording deal ten years ago and was still on top of the charts. His voice, the lyrics, and the music took me to another place.

  “Was he singing to me?” I asked myself. “That was about me, wasn’t it?” I giggled and turned the volume down, only to play the song three more times. I decided that if “Forgotten” wasn’t about me I sure as hell would love to know who the lucky girl was. “It’s about me,” I said as I blushed.

  I was startled by a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Chinese,” a muffled voice said from the other side.

  “Yeah, right,” I whispered. “Who is it?” I didn’t order any Chinese food.

  “The Chinese restaurant,” the foreigner said.

  I looked out of the peephole, and sure enough, standing there was Liu from the Chinese place down the street with a carton full of food. “Hi, Liu.” I pulled open the door. “I think you have the wrong apartment number. I didn’t order anything.”

  “I did.” Tremel stepped around the corner with an assortment of flowers in shades of purple.

  I was so happy to see him, I swung the door open.

  Liu knew where the kitchen was.

  “Tell me you didn’t get the job.” He smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist. He’d asked me over the phone, but decided he wanted an answer in person.

  “You don’t have to worry. Atlanta radio stations want no part of me.”

  “Thank God.” He kissed my lips. “I want every part of you.”

  “I go. I go now.” Liu covered his ears jokingly. “Tank you, Mister Mel. Sarai, I see you lata.”

  I closed and locked the door behind Liu.

  “I’ve missed you a lot.” He placed the flowers on the counter.

  Minutes later, I was kissing him like my mouth had been slurping only holy water during the past week. I never wanted to let him go. I was his tail for the rest of the evening. Wherever he went, I was less than one step behind. He was surprised with all of the affection.

  After dinner, we lit candles, and I played “Forgotten.” We sat on the floor. I sat facing him, my thighs atop his and my feet on both sides of him. The flickering of the candles hid his face a bit. He rubbed my back as I leaned into him.

  “What inspired you to write this song?”

  “This couple that I know.” He pressed his forehead against mine and continued to stroke my back gently. “They just seemed so right, so caring, and so happy.”

  “Sounds like a special pair.”

  He kissed my nose. “Sarai, I have some good and bad news for you.”

  “What?”
I backed away a bit so that I could see his face better.

  “Which do you want to hear first?”

  I actually didn’t want to hear anything. “The bad.”

  He didn’t waste any time. “Mrs. White’s son, Jason, is putting the house up for sale. He wants me out in a week.”

  I smiled. “That’s not too bad.”

  “I wasn’t finished. I’m moving to Daytona Beach to live with Ralph, a friend of my father, who has a plumbing business. He’s promised me a job.”

  “In Daytona?” I couldn’t have heard him right.

  “Yeah.”

  I thought about the last time I rode that far. “So it wouldn’t have mattered if I got the job in Atlanta,” I said with a pout.

  “Yes, it would’ve. Driving to Miami beats driving to Atlanta.” He smiled. “Plus, I like the weather here.”

  “It’s five hours from Daytona to Miami and six hours to Atlanta.” I rolled my eyes. “Not much difference.”

  “Just listen to my good news,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The reason I’m moving to Daytona is because I’m flat broke.” He had the nerve to laugh. “While you were away, I took off from work and bought studio time. I spent all the money I had been saving to complete an eight-track demo.” He pulled the CD out of his jacket pocket.

  “Oh my goodness.” I hugged his neck. “You did it,” I squealed.

  “I have a hundred copies, and twenty-three of them have already been mailed out to different labels.” He smiled. “So I hope to hear something soon.”

  “I’m so happy for you.” I felt as though he was already signed. “I know you’re going to make it. That song was incredible, baby.” I was in tears.

  “Don’t cry.”

  “I can’t believe that you wrote the song about me, about us.” I managed to get it out. “Your dreams are coming true.” I got up and turned up the CD.

  After every song, I was more impressed than the one before. Tremel had the talent, he owned the sexy look, and his drive was tremendous.

  When song number eight faded to silence, we were still holding each other. I couldn’t lose him. I wanted him in my life. “Don’t go to Daytona.” My mouth said what my heart was feeling.