Enraged red eyes and red cheeks fired across the room at Psalms. Velvet snapped the pencil in her hand. She grabbed her expensive coffee; the top popped off, and some spilled on the floor. She threw the whole cup in the recycling bin instead of the garbage. She turned away from Psalms, and looked at EL’vis across the street, kicking high in the air and spinning quickly in some form of capoeira.
Psalms said calmly, “EL’vis is gay.”
A long moment of silence etched on the walls as Velvet slowly sat in her chair.
“He fooled the FBI lie detector test too; don’t feel bad.”
“PB, I, I—”
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t apologize.” He walked over to her and forced her to turn her chair his direction. He squatted down, and kissed her forehead. He pulled a chair up next to her. “Velvet, all you said speaks to the fact that you’re harboring negative thoughts about yourself. Thinking that nobody else is having a first or second thought when it comes to you.
“If ever someone had undesirable thoughts of you, why would you want them anyway? Why want someone who doesn’t want you? I know you know better than this. You can’t treat life like a Facebook status. You can’t post some positivity you don’t practice in real life. You’re displacing some inner hurts and negative thoughts about yourself. How quickly were you ready to demonize me, or anyone, because of your own disheartening thoughts about yourself?
“Velvet, you are a superstar to me. I see you, and I’m amazed at all that you can do. Yes, you’re not the size your friend Darcelle is, but your ass is round and moves as if you can give it and take it. I’m sure that’s not your problem. But mentally you seem to be beating yourself up, so maybe a little activity is in order. Not because you need to lose weight, but to feel better about yourself. You dress classy and sexy. You do turn heads. You don’t overcompensate with the fake gaudy nails and makeup, and your voice is sweeter than that coffee you just threw in the recycling bin.
“You raise your child with manners, and he is well-behaved. A man is not going to run from that—maybe the other way around if he’s bad. No worthy man is going to run away from you because you are a single mother.”
Psalms and Velvet sat in silence. His mind was trying to wrap his head around what was going on in hers. It was unbelievable that such a pretty woman seemed to have no self-confidence. He thought about the many times he had heard Velvet put herself down, and he felt bad he had never stepped in and pointed out her beauty.
“Velvet, please tell me about your life. Please tell me all that I don’t know. Not that I can fix anything or have the magic to make it all better. I want to know your story. Like, why do some of your friends call you Skillet, and why you could own your own company, but you work for me. You had money before working for me. You told me your son’s father hit the Lotto, but I’m confused about you.
“I had choices of great people to hire, but you were that superstar that said loyalty first. I had chosen to not delve deep into your past, because from the day we met, I knew I could trust you, and I’ve been right. My company is better because of you, but now today, after hearing you go off, and about what set you off…Please tell me about Skillet, the woman that so few know.”
“I’ll need coffee first, and I’m sorry for going off, but get me a coffee, and I’ll tell ya what I can tell ya about little ol’ me with the big butt, and big mouth.”
Psalms leaned in and kissed her forehead, and left to go get Velvet an expensive coffee. When he came back, her hair was back to perfect as well as her makeup. Her son was out with EL’vis. He came in and got some car keys, and went out touring the city with her son as his tour guide.
Velvet told Psalms her story. Lois Mae tagged her with the nickname, Skillet. She’d had an affair with Lois Mae’s husband at that time. She knew he was married, but he’d brought the sex better than any man she’d known. Velvet’s mind did the classic trick when she was seeing a married man. He’d leave her for me, she’d thought, but of course that didn’t happen. Velvet had run in to Lois Mae in public and greeted her with a fake, “Hey, let’s get together some time. I’d like to get to know you.” Lois Mae had thought it odd, but she was an outgoing person, and she’d agreed. All the while Velvet said nothing like “I’m sleeping with your husband.” They had gotten together, and while Lois Mae was cooking, Velvet had spilled the beans thinking she was helping the both of them. She had told Lois Mae she had been sleeping with her husband. Lois Mae almost had hit Velvet upside the head with a skillet. The name Skillet stuck after that.
Velvet told Psalms she’d grown up with men always all over her for her looks and tight round ass back in her youth, and she’d acted out of control at times. She’d taken advantage of how she’d caught men with her looks. At some point, she’d realized she was used for her allure. Men had fawned over her exceptional looks, but she’d selected unprincipled men due to her drinking.
“I drank like I was filling bottles of wine from a faucet. That’s why I can tell your girl Gabrielle has a problem.”
Psalms had never seen Velvet drink and it had never crossed his mind. Now he realized he knew two women with high IQs that could both run the world, and drink it under the table.
Velvet finished her story about meeting Lois Mae. Both women realized they were victims made to behave like enemy combatants. They understood how the same man regulated them and made them helpless.
They became friends although their lifestyles were different. Lois Mae remarried, to a good man named Sterlin.
In the last few years, Velvet mixed and matched with younger men. She thought it made her feel young and desirable. Then after childbirth, the last of her self-esteem was cut off like an umbilical cord.
“Velvet, it’s easy for anyone to find reasons to quit trying for love or at least trying for a decent relationship. You picked a reason that many people fall in to: it must be my looks. People assume they don’t have someone because of their looks. Yet, you know how many perfect, pretty people don’t have anyone, either? Just as money can’t buy you happiness, neither can someone else’s idea of perfect beauty bring you love. Good looks can bring you dick, but not necessarily love.
“It’s still up to you if you want love, but dear, you’re only hurting yourself with these young boys. You’re raising a son, and you could have a son who could be thirty or so.
“That’s not to say one can’t have someone younger, but if that is your driving force up front, thinking ‘Let me find a younger man to feel desirable’—that’s foolish.”
“Older men do it,” said Velvet. “They go find some young thing.”
“Yeah, we see that, but chasing young girls and having one you want to be with are two, for real, different things. The older men who get a young woman pay for it with pain-in-the-ass misery. A pretty showpiece on the arm is not the same kind of pretty behind closed doors.
“If I was to get with a young chick, and I was going to keep her happy, I would have to do things I thought I was done doing. Young girls think they have the power of pussy to play games. They want to hang with other young people, and they might want you there—or not. Either way, it’s a pain in the ass to be somewhere you indubitably don’t want to be. There is a lot to think about when you step out of your age range when it comes to day-in and day-out living.
“Those older men have to deal with are they paying for it with their wallets. Yeah sure, there is the rare couple in love for better or worse and he’s sixty and she’s twenty-five, but that shit ain’t real to most of us.”
“Yeah, I guess you are right on that account. I was a pain for older men’s asses when I was young. Hell, I wouldn’t want to live with myself back then.” Velvet chuckled.
“Velvet, you are not too old, but you have old hurts. Finding the person with a hurt you can deal with is trying times. You are a powerful woman because you have a higher IQ than most men, and you are a woman with a woman’s emotions as I heard earlier.”
“Yes, I am woman…hear me ro
ar.”
“My grandfather often told me you will never, ever make a woman entirely happy because she keeps moving the line in the sand. She can’t help it because her rational, psychological, conceptual, and often her spiritual levels are always evolving and progressing to a new attitude, and changing viewpoints on uncountable subjects.
“As men, we change slower. That don’t mean better, but it’s just slower. You know, men are mocked, and rightfully so, when they act as if all they want is sex and food, but sadly it shows very little depth of a man who has stooped so low in life to not seek a more complete being. Sad commentary.
“But, like I said, you are a powerful woman, and you need to act upon it by being where other powerful men are. Men will come at you hard for a touch of your power. Some men will come to get some of your power, and some for bragging rights, and some to get over on you. Some men show their asses because they want others to see who they can get, and some men don’t give a damn.
“At the end of the day, they will all be the same—the good, the bad, and the ugly. You set the standard for how they go about caring for you in the long or short run.”
Velvet smiled and then let out a loud laugh. “Okay, but a woman needs a little bit every now and then, no matter what the end game is. I don’t want to have to train a man on how I want to be treated.”
“I hear ya, yet I know you’ve met men who are slobs in suits, and some men who are so anal that you’ll never be good enough for them. Some men will want to change you, and some won’t stand up to you when they should.”
“I do need a man with some balls because I will run over him if he won’t stand up and be a man, and tell me sometimes to sit down and chill . . .just as long as he’s nice about it, and then let me—”
“Velvet.”
“Okay, I am actually listening to you, I needed to hear this. I come into this office with my son and act as if I’m okay, but I’m not. Losing my head earlier has shown me that, and I think PB—well, I know—I give you a hard time. I hate to say it, but it’s true, that many days you are my one safe place where I can just be me, and not have to worry about you walking out on me, and not coming back like most men have done in my life.”
“I’m here, and I’m not going nowhere. As the song says, ‘You belong to me, you’re my family.’ You know I don’t have much family, so we’re stuck with each other.
“No matter how young or old, whether at church or a business social, some men will have whores waiting for them on the other side of the country. Some men can’t escape mama drama. Some will bore you, and some men will excite you for a while. Now, how do you find the diamond over in that sand across the street?
“Stop harboring negative thoughts about yourself. Don’t displace inner hurts, and place them on other things, and other people. That drains you and keeps you from seeing who might want you. You always have to be ready for that chance. I think that was your line, right?”
“Yeah, that’s my line and I’m gonna have to work on that. Damn, EL’vis is gay, huh?”
“Yep. Velvet, how long have you been sober?”
“PB, ever since I found out that my son was growing inside me.”
“Eight years. I see I was right; you are a powerful woman.”
CHAPTER 39
A Plan, Planning, and Planned
A month later, the effort to pin down The Duck, the right-hand man to the former president, had hit all dead-ends. The team figured, the man directly connected to Gabrielle almost losing her life from an assassin’s bullet was lying low to avoid any possible retaliation.
Gabrielle and The Duck and his conservative party had had a few run-ins and disagreements. He had treated her as if she were a token, and that didn’t go over well with her. Gabrielle was not a die-hard, through-and-through-conservative on all issues, and that had brought friction to the Oval Office. When Psalms had directed Gabrielle to send a message to The Duck that she wanted to support fully all causes in an attempt to learn more about the attempt on her life, he’d responded that he appreciated hearing that and would get back to her soon. Psalms and the crew believed he had to know his boys were either dead or on the run, and that, at minimum, somebody was tracking them since they had not collected their money.
The plans had to be put on hold, but not forgotten. Psalms, EL’vis, and Suzy Q had grown cautious about sending a message to never attempt to come after Gabrielle.
Gabrielle’s wounds were healing, and for the last two weeks, she’d participated in an outpatient treatment program in Seattle to help with her drinking. It was a one-on-one setting, and Velvet supported her. Both women went to a meeting with the new psychiatrist.
Velvet did some soul searching, and in an effort to feel better about herself, she had joined Lois Mae in the gym. Getting Velvet to go to the gym was something Lois Mae had tried for years to do and until now, she had failed. Velvet’s primary goal wasn’t to lose weight; she wanted to feel more confident in her overall health, mentally and physically. She worked hard at putting a stop to the self-deprecating humor.
Watching her son work out daily with Psalms or Mintfurd, and over the last weeks with EL’vis, made her think she should be an example for him, and one day possibly be around to see his children. Last week, Velvet, Gabrielle, and Lois Mae worked out together in the gym on the second floor of the condo.
Gabrielle was a bit limited with her breast wounds. Her psychiatrist had suggested physical activity would help with her overall recovery. While sweating out the bad, she could start to feel better about what she put in her body.
• • •
A month later, under tight security, the two kids went to Tylowe and Meeah’s house on Lake Washington and spent the weekend. The responsibility of caring for the kids gave Meeah and Tylowe joy that they had lacked in the last few years.
It also made them proud to see their grown girls living successful lives. Tylowe’s daughter, Tyreene Pearlene Dandridge, was in the WNBA and married to Larentzo Sir John, who played in the NBA. The two had become the poster couple of professional sports in the media.
Meeah’s daughter, Mia, had become a freelance photographer working with some of the best magazines in the world. Tylowe and Meeah gave both their girls a stable, maturing environment for them to flourish, and that was their joy when they came together.
Now with their girls gone, it took away a vital part of their lives that helped complete them, and affected them more than they understood. The empty house started to tear them apart. How quickly a sense of need could change people’s perspective.
Even with security placed near Tylowe and Meeah’s house, clearly the kids were still in danger. The problem was hard to figure out. In some ways, the solution was dangerous: let the enemy show its head before a coordinated response could be brought forward.
• • •
Psalms’ efforts to find Evita seemed to be lost in the cracks of Seattle’s sidewalks—but which crack? Her expensive car had been found and towed. Her coworker had said they had drinks, but that she was okay when she’d left. No phone calls. No signal Mintfurd could track. The last time a signal had pinged off a tower was in downtown Seattle on the Friday she was last seen. No credit card charges. No airline flights. Suzy Q flew into Atlanta to check her sometimes lover girlfriend out: she had not seen or heard from her.
Psalms tried to act as though he wasn’t panicking, but he was constantly worried. Evita had disappeared before, sure, and for long periods in her life. Psalms was away living his life during some of these times, so he didn’t know the reasons why or how. He had been around at times when she withdrew from daily life for weeks, but it had been years since she had done that. The search moved in to panic mode, but dead-ends were in every crack, above ground and below.
Mintfurd and Darcelle had spent time together twenty-four days out of thirty-one. The day before yesterday, Mintfurd had met Darcelle’s daughter by accident—actually a setup. Mintfurd and Darcelle had agreed to meet at the mall, simply to see
each other and to stop and talk. Darcelle wanted to see how her daughter would react to seeing her mother having a long conversation with a man. In some ways, it was also a test to see how her daughter would respond to seeing such a huge man talking to her mother. Mintfurd did tower over her, enough to block out the sun.
In a computer store in the mall, Darcelle and her daughter contemplated purchasing new laptops or tablets.
Darcelle asked a hulking man, who so happened to be walking by, what would be his opinion.
“Hello, I’m sorry to bother you, but my daughter and I are shopping for either new laptops or tablets. Although I’m sure we’ll be happy with either, what would you purchase?”
Darcelle’s beautiful daughter, Diedra, craned her neck to look up at Mintfurd. Darcelle’s anxiety that her daughter would have fear of such a huge man was mistaken: her daughter’s reaction was the opposite.
“Hello, mister. Could you help us?” He smiled, and Darcelle’s nervous shoulder tension relaxed. Mintfurd helped them pick out a laptop tablet combo to cover their computer needs, and they walked to the food court and had a terrific time. Unlike Psalms, Mintfurd was a natural with kids. At his size, he developed an approach of facial expressions and body posture early in life to disarm children.
Born and raised in Barstow, California, Mintfurd had eight brothers and sisters, and he was the baby. The largest, the smartest, the most athletic, and the one to leave what many called “the ghetto in the desert.”
Before he’d left to go to college, drug dealers had abducted a little Hispanic girl whose father owed money. The drug dealers had bragged and made no secret that they had the girl. They were trying to send a message to the townspeople that they controlled the area.
Despite, or maybe because of his size, Mintfurd was a chess player in thought and action. Through an elaborate plan one night, the drug dealers watching the house had ended up bound and gagged and asleep. Beepers and call message centers were the trend at the time. Mintfurd had deciphered their codes, and because he spoke perfect Spanish, including the street vernacular, he had sent messages to confuse the other drug dealers that were away from the house, sending them into police traps. Mintfurd had hacked the old DOS police computer. He had sent information to the FBI and police on where the drugs and the bad guys were. Finding their hideout, Mintfurd had piped sleeping gas into the house. With the drug dealers down and out cold, Mintfurd had found the little girl, sleepy but alive. She thought he was a giant coming to hurt her, but he took his time to relax the little girl, and to help her understand he was there to take her home. Mintfurd had taken all the money the drug dealers had on them, and the ten thousand dollars they’d had in the house. With the drug money, Mintfurd had helped the family move to northern California, and had put the fear of God in the dad to stay away from drug dealers and their ugly friends. The next day in the local news the headline was:
One Safe Place Page 27
