In the Ring: A Dario Caivano Novel

by Perri Forrest

  “Mom, stop,” he insisted, in all his shyness.

  I stood from my bar seat, giggling at his discomfort. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone. I’m just messing with you,” I said, kissing him on his cheek. “Let’s head out. You got all your homework and your library book?”

  “I got everything.”

  “Okay, let’s get this show on the road then.”

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled up to the front of Rai’s school. I looked around at the large structure and smiled to myself. There was no greater feeling than knowing you had provided the best life possible for your kid. Becoming a mother right at the start of undergrad was beyond difficult, but with Rai by my side I made the most of it and was able to maintain the focus I needed to give us the life we deserved.

  “Mom, are you gonna let me go to public school for high school?” Rai asked while gathering his things from the backseat.

  “Probably not, but you have yourself a great day, little guy.”

  Rai turned back to look at me before escaping into his day. “Mom . . . ‘little guy’? Really? I’m almost thirteen and almost taller than you.”

  “Boy, get out of here!” I playfully yelled.

  “Okay,” he laughed. “See you later.”

  I sat at the drop-off point in front of Rai’s school as though the car had stalled, watching him walk away. I wanted to yell out that I loved him but I knew that he’d be mortified if even one friend heard me. About a minute later, I put my signal on to pull away from the curb, but was surprised when I turned around just in time to see Rai wave me off. I smiled as I drove away, knowing that no matter how much he protested, he still saw himself as my little guy.

  CHAPTER 9

  Chanel

  It was around the lunch hour when I walked up to the restaurant and spotted my mother and my sister, posted in outdoor seating. Everything began to make sense. The urgency in the phone call, the choice of locales—yeah, it all made sense. I didn’t need a psychic to tell me that there was going to be drama. Luckily, it was a covered setting with those fancy outdoor heaters because it damn sure wasn’t hot enough to be sitting outside without them.

  You ain’t slick, woman, I thought as I neared my mama wearing a painted-on smile. She didn’t want to have this little meeting at her house because she thought her own environment was too pure for confrontation, and she probably figured that if we were in public, I wouldn’t give her the business for fear that others would look on. But clearly, she still hadn’t learned enough about her own child because audience or not, if the disrespect started, it was going to go down.

  “I already spotted my party,” I advised the hostess, who was geared up to assist me, as I casually strode past her.

  “Sounds good,” she chirped gleefully. “Enjoy your meal.”

  Little did she know that this thing was geared up to be anything but enjoyable. Making my way through to the fish tank enclosure, I sighed inwardly and pushed right on through.

  “Hey y’all,” I greeted halfheartedly, taking my seat. I knew it was rude to not at least give hugs or something, but being fake wasn’t on the menu; especially after seeing my sister, Rochelle. She and I didn’t have the best relationship, and it had been that way for more years than I cared to count.

  “Hmm,” Rochelle said under her breath.

  “Don’t do that, Rochelle. It’s no need for it,” my mother defended. She turned to me and asked, “How are you, sweetheart?”

  “I’m good, Mama. And you?”

  “I’m doing okay.” She looked from me to my sister. “Y’all wanna order something to drink to lighten the mood? They make a really good mimosa here.”

  I was the first to speak up because a drink might not be so bad. “Yeah, I’ll get one.”

  My mother signaled the hostess who scurried over in all her blonde excitement to take the orders. By the time she’d reached the table, however, I had changed my mind about the mimosa, and thought that something stronger might suit the occasion better. “I’ll take a screwdriver on the rocks,” I requested.

  “Oh . . .” she responded, smiling. “Those are pretty strong,” she kidded.

  “I know. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “And for you ladies?”

  “I’ll take a mimosa, and she’ll—”

  “You can bring me a whiskey bourbon,” Rochelle interjected. “And an extra shot of whiskey in a shot glass. Thank you.”

  My mother looked over at me and then quickly glanced away. She was embarrassed and didn’t have to say it; the faint shade of crimson on her cheeks freely gave the story away.

  I wanted to tell her to not take on the burden of Rochelle’s issues, but it would’ve all been in vain because she was probably already sitting in a pool of guilt for having brought Rochelle’s ass in public to begin with.

  “So, I see you and Mama wanna be all cute and shit with your fruity drinks, huh?”

  “Watch your mouth, Rochelle,” I shot. “Have some respect.”

  “Girl, please,” she said, waving me off.

  I counted down in my head. It was a countdown that probably saved her dumb ass because I was seconds from dragging her ass in Walnut Creek for all the white folks to see. I could feel my mother tensing up. She didn’t say a word, but I felt the vibes. They were bouncing off of her like streaks of lightning.

  “Rochelle . . .”

  “What, Ma?” she said, turning her lip up at the edge. “I ain’t got time for that girl. She thinks she can say what the hell she wants to. I was just making a damn statement.”

  “But did you have to cuss, Rochelle? That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Mama, we’re all grown here. Grown,” she reiterated. “Why do I still need to watch my mouth in front of the woman who taught me how to cuss? Come on, now.”

  I buried my face in my palms and released a heavy sigh; all the while saying a silent prayer for patience.

  “What?!” Rochelle asked, clearly ready for battle. “What’s all of that breathing all hard and shit?”

  “Did you already have something to drink before you got here? Because you’re on like ten and you don’t need to be. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Like, for real. Not today.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, am I cramping your style, miss goody two shoes?” she spat, sarcastically. “I mean, because I’d hate to upset the martyr.”

  I reached inside my purse, grabbed a twenty and dropped it on the table. “Mama, I think I’m gonna go, okay? This is to pay for my drink.” I stood from my seat and jerked my head in the direction of my sister. “That right there, I don’t have time for. And I ain’t gonna make time for it. If you’re smart, you’ll get up and leave with me.”

  “Girl, sit down and stop being so dramatic,” Rochelle remarked.

  “Mama . . .” I repeated, ignoring my sister’s comment. “You coming?”

  “No, baby, I’m gonna stay. I want you to stay too. It’s been four years since y’all spoke to each other and I just thought that we could sit down today. Is that so hard?” she queried, looking over at my sister. “Really. Is that so hard? Y’all are all each other have and you act like you hate each other. Do you know how hurtful it is for me to see? I talk to both of you all the time, but y’all don’t talk to each other at all. It’s time for that to stop.” She patted her hand on top of the table. “Sit back down, Chanel. And Rochelle, stop with the bullshit, you hear?”

  “Ladies, I have your drinks,” the waitress said, appearing right on time to begin passing around our beverages. Unfortunately, the quiet time that had momentarily ensued was going to be short-lived as soon as my mother’s other daughter got the liquid courage flowing through her system. “Can I get you all going with some appetizers? Or did you need a little more time?”

  “Appetizers it is,” my mother responded before shooting off a request for fried calamari, and hot spinach and cheese dip.

  Shit, I said to myself. What was the purpose of me even drinking my healthy drink this morning with all this mess
I was about to consume?

  I drank my drink down to the halfway mark, trying my best to summon a buzz. My mother sipped on her mimosa, while her daughter wasted no time throwing that whiskey shot to the back of her throat and then chasing it with her drink like it was Minute Maid or something. The only thing I could do as I watched her was shake my head. She was such a wasted talent. She had so many opportunities in life and hadn’t taken any of them, choosing instead to always take the easy way out.

  At a time, I blamed her entire demise on my mother because it was no secret that my mother wasn’t a model parent for either of us growing up. She lacked in every way, having succumbed to drugs at a point in time when we were two and three. It wasn’t until we had neared our early teens that she resurfaced and did a slow crawl back into our lives.

  But Rochelle’s lazy approach to life was all on her and not my mother, as I realized much later. Rochelle had family, just as I did, that took her in when we were separated; they also gave her a good life. And although we had similar upbringings, we had always operated off totally different sets of morals, values and goals. Her thing was to chase behind any athlete, rapper, or businessman that she could find. Her way to succeed was on the coattail of whoever would drag her along. But those dips into the ‘kept woman’ lifestyle, hadn’t really amounted to much—as far as I could see, anyway.

  “So, Mama, what’s going on?” I asked, dying to get out of my own thoughts. “Has to be something,” I acknowledged, taking down a few more sips of my screwdriver.

  “Yeah, Mama. What’s going on?” Rochelle posed with a light giggle, already feeling the effects of the whiskey. I knew the signs.

  “Well, I wanted to bring y’all together so I could tell y’all at the same time. I’m engaged.” She smiled and then extended her left hand to show us a large diamond of some kind of cut that I couldn’t begin to identify. It was beautiful, nonetheless.

  CHAPTER 10

  Chanel

  “Mama! Are you serious?!” I asked, jumping from my seat and rushing over to give her a congratulatory hug. “You were just talking about meetin’ some young tender at the club,” I said, smacking my lips.

  “I was kidding, silly. Notice when you asked about Ronald, I didn’t say much.”

  “You sure didn’t. Slick!”

  “You know I had to be kidding anyway. There is absolutely nothing a young boy can do for me.”

  “Got that right!” I exclaimed. “And Ronald is good to you. I’m so happy for you!”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. I didn’t know how y’all would take it. So that makes me happy.”

  “Oh, so you just wait for her response and that’s all you need?” Rochelle shot.

  Me and my mother both shot her looks at the same time. I’m sure my mother’s was out of shock. Mine was more of the wanting to reach out and touch this girl.

  “It’s not like that, Rochelle, and you know it’s not. Why be a shit-starter? What’s wrong with you?”

  “It’s more like what’s right with her, Mama,” I shot.

  “Fuck you, Chanel,” Rochelle spat.

  “No thanks.”

  “Come on, y’all. Stop it, please.”

  My mother reached over to softly place her hand on Rochelle’s wrist and rubbed her like she was some damn piece of fragile merchandise. I could understand my mother wanting to not ruffle feathers. She felt guilty about her missing the early years of our lives so she overcompensated—a lot. She especially overcompensated where Rochelle was concerned. Like when she bought her a replacement car two months after she carelessly wrecked the first one. And not to mention a few years back when she was messing with some married man, beat up his wife and ended up in jail. Instead of letting her ass sit there for a few days to reflect on the life she was letting run down the drain, my mother bailed her out just a few hours later. That type of babying was exactly why she was sitting at this lunch, acting a damn fool now.

  I shook my head as I watched my mother console a grown-ass woman for absolutely no reason.

  “What are you shaking your head at, Chanel? You think you’re so much better than everybody, don’t you?”

  I lifted my shoulders lightly in a hunch, then responded nonchalantly. “I’m shaking my head because I can. And I’m not the one who thinks I’m better . . . you’re the one who thinks I’m better. That’s your real problem.”

  “Oh my God, Chanel, stop it,” my mother insisted. “Just stop it.”

  “I’m up here happy that you’re getting your happy after all this time, and you use this moment to take sides? Really? She could care less whether you end up in bliss or a damn ditch! She wants to make sure that your money ain’t tied up so she can still keep that permanent handout for cash and whatever else you just give her without question!”

  “Would it kill y’all to act like you’re sisters?” my mother sneered through clenched teeth, her jaws tightening in the process. “Would it?” she cried. “Because I did not raise y’all to—”

  “Tuh!” Rochelle shot out. I immediately looked over at her when the hiss escaped her mouth. She had a great look of satisfaction on her face. And the look in her eyes was easily readable—she was ready for battle.

  Bring it.

  “I already know what you’re going to say, Rochelle. No need for sound effects,” my mother said, suddenly cowering in humiliation.

  “See what I mean, Mama? But that’s what you protect. She has no respect for you or anyone else.”

  “I don’t have respect for her because I cut off her little slip of the tongue?” She turned her attention to my mother after leaning forward with her arms across the top of the table. “Raise us. That’s what you were about to say, Mother. That you didn’t raise us like that?”

  My mother lowered her eyes in shame. I literally watched her shoulders slump and her face sink. She was defeated. A part of me wanted to snatch my sister up and beat her like she was somebody on the street. But there was another part of me that wanted to allow her assault to continue so that my mother could finally see that she was catering to an ingrate; because up to this point, I hadn’t been able to say shit to her about the girl.

  “Because . . .” Rochelle continued, “I don’t recall having a mother to raise me at all.”

  Something in me stirred, the longer I watched my mother’s defeated stance. She had been happy just moments before and protecting the very person who was now attacking her. I hated a bully, but I hated the suffering of the underdog even more. Before I knew it, I had hopped up from my seat and snatched Rochelle up by the collar of her cute pink blouse.

  “Chanel, nooo!” I heard my mother in the background as she tugged at the sleeve of my jacket. I was somewhere between a blind rage and happy times when I drew my fist back and lunged it toward Rochelle’s pretty face. But my mother acted quickly and managed to wrap her arms around me from behind, prohibiting my punch from landing.

  “No, Mama! Let her do it!” Rochelle coaxed. She wore an excited grin across her face that had me fighting to get loose from my mother’s desperate grasp.

  “Chanel!” my mother yelled, again.

  Rochelle moved close, taunting as though she wanted to be dropped. “Do it,” she threatened, in my face. “So I can end your entire life—this time for real.”

  I inhaled a deep breath as she and I stared each other down. The longer I had to think the more I came to my senses and realized that she wasn’t worth it. But I did have to get away from her because I didn’t know for how much longer I’d be able to be of sound mind.

  “Let me go, Ma. I’m done.” My mother was slow in her action, but she finally released me. When she did, I turned around to her, shook my head lightly while straightening out my jacket. “Never, ever invite me to some shit that she’s at. I mean it.”

  Those were my last words as I exited that restaurant thinking, Family is who you make it, and it ain’t always the fuckers you share DNA with. Rochelle and I were done, and I was perfectly okay with that.

&nb
sp; CHAPTER 11

  Dario

  When I felt the light jolt to the back of my truck, it didn’t initially dawn on me that I’d been hit. However, when I turned around to look over my shoulder, it was confirmed for me that someone had indeed rammed into the back of my brand new 2015 Laramie Limited. Fuck.

  I turned back around to face the front of the road and then put my blinker on to move off to the side. When I confirmed that the person was right behind me, and not trying to dash from the scene, I reached over to get my insurance information from the glove box and hopped out to assess the damages, if any, to my vehicle.

  I didn’t even get to make it to the back of my vehicle before I saw Chanel’s panicked eyes bearing down on me. I wanted to joke around with her and say something like, “Look at the steps you took just to see me,” but I knew it wasn’t the right time.

  “Ohhh my God. I’m so sorry,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I-I-I . . . I don’t know what happened. I looked away for just . . . damn . . . it was just a second.” Her eyes left mine for a few seconds as she looked at both her car and mine. “I’m really sorry,” she stated again.

  “Calm down. It’s okay,” I reassured her. I wanted to rub her shoulder, pull her into a hug or something because it seemed like she was out of sorts, unfocused. “Look, my damages are pretty non-existent,” I told her as I ran an open palm along my truck’s tailgate and surrounding area. “See . . . look for yourself,” I repeated, trying to calm her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m . . . uhh . . . good. Just can’t believe I did that. My head is totally somewhere else. I can’t believe I let her get me here,” she mumbled, barely audible. “And now I got this to deal with.”

  “You don’t have anything to deal with on my end. My truck’s fine.” I kneeled down to further investigate what her car might need. She did have minimal damage to the front of her Infiniti. There were a few scrapes that could be repaired in under an hour, if the work was done by the right person. “Two good cars came face-to-face, thankfully.” I stepped closer to Chanel who was now leaned against the side of her car with her arms tightly folded across her chest. “Hey . . .” I called out to lure her from her light trance.