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Let That Be the Reason

Page 18

by Vickie M. Stringer


  “Carmen, to end our relationship would make me very unhappy. This is a lifetime relationship, and now you want a divorce.”

  “No, I don’t, but I need a break.” My eyes welled up with tears.

  “Get someone to help you.”

  I just wanted out, but talking to him was like talking to a wall. I had heard that these Colombians would get you to sell these drugs, then try to keep you selling, willingly or unwillingly. I was so tired but I decided then and there to make one last run and come up with enough money to bounce with no one’s permission but my own.

  “Okay, Dragos, I’ll be in touch.” He left, but he left two of his associates with me, like I was trying to escape or something. This made me nervous. Now I had chaperones? Ain’t this some shit! I called Dragos and said, “I need to take two weeks for a vacation.”

  He responded by saying, “Absolutely, a vacation is good. Please come to my winter estate in the Dominican Republic.”

  Squirming out of the offer, I declined. “No, thanks, Dragos, I want to choose my own vacation spot and be alone with my son.” This really made him mad. He said, “Carmen, why do you refuse me? I don’t ask twice.” Dragos had been raising his voice a lot lately, and this was normally a calm man. Our once calm relationship had the potential of turning volatile.

  “Okay, Dragos, I won’t mention it again.”

  “I see you’ve got deep pockets now,” he told me. “You want to take your ball home and not play anymore. The game is not over until I say it is over. You think you don’t need me because you have saved some money. Carmen, think again. I like working with you and I don’t want to work with anyone else. Think about it.”

  What had I gotten myself into? I was going to have to plan an escape. In the meantime, I dealt only with Chino. I got him thirty kilos for the next two weeks and I left everyone else alone while I planned and plotted my next move.

  My world began to crumble around me. When I stopped dealing with the fellas, they started to take a beatin’ because none of them had saved their money. In the streets, no one teaches you how to budget your finances. Make a sell, buy some sneakers, make a sell, buy some gear, make a sell, buy some pussy. Saving was unheard of. There are no 401(k) plans for hustlers, no retirement plans, nothing.

  They were all pressed, and Chino had his boys on the streets really taxin’ everyone since I wasn’t doing anything. G-Money got word that I was supplying Chino and he took it personally, like I would help Chino but not him. But truth of the matter was, no one would supply G. He was rumored to fuck up with money, and all his bragging about fuckin’ crackheads had caught up with him. Chino told me that G-Money got fucked up his ass in the joint, so no one really messed with him, because who could really trust a booty boy? Jay-Jay was too happy to see his ass crawling back to him.

  He started dating the same girl who did my nails at this salon on the east side of Columbus. He had her calling me, too. I got weak and returned his call trying to keep my enemies close and everyone on an even plane until I flipped and made my move. I agreed to see him one last time. My head was spinning around. I had so much going on inside of me.

  Chino still had not done anything for the baby, and I resented myself for continuing to help him after I realized that he had not changed one bit. He was just out for the money, ’cause money was what was keeping his life together. All the substance had left him. He was a different person, and I was becoming a different person as well.

  Then one night I had a dream. In this dream, God showed me that I was going to be arrested. I saw myself on the news, featured in a pyramid lineup of faces. At the top of the pyramid, I could clearly see my face, but the other faces were blurred. In the background, I could hear a newscaster speaking and talking about a big drug bust, the largest in Columbus history. I woke up in a cold sweat.

  Twenty-two

  It was 3:00 a.m., and I was wide awake, fighting insomnia.

  It was time, I supposed, time to face that which I feared. I wanted to see my salon. It had been over two years since I’d been there. I heard there were changes: the wallpaper was different and the staff had changed. I wanted to see it and this time I was not afraid, ashamed or sad. Something in me wanted to let go.

  I put on a sweatsuit and grabbed my car keys. I rode in silence, focusing on my destination. Since selling it I had refused to ever drive past it, always taking a detour rather than confront the memories. But that night, it was the only place I wanted to be.

  As I pulled into the shopping plaza parking lot, I felt nostalgic, as if I were coming to work as usual. There was my parking space. There was the dry cleaners, the computer store and the pizza shop. Man, they had good pizza. There was the convenience store and the video store. It looked the same, but the feel was different. The magic was forever gone.

  From my Jeep, I could see inside the salon. I was there in front of my salon. Sure, it carried a different name and had new owners, but it was still mine. Chino would come pick me up and pull his Blazer right up to the door. If I slouched down in my Jeep, I would look like he did in his Blazer.

  I still had a lot of my salon memorabilia. The hair show competition tape where I won first place, the newspaper article about our opening, photos from various workshops. I even had a salon bag with L-O-QUENT HAIR SALON neatly scripted on both sides and a salon T-shirt. I didn’t look at that stuff anymore. I closed my eyes really tight, and it felt like I was in the salon doing nails again. I heard the receptionist answering the phones, “L-O-Quent Hair Salon.”

  That day, I let go. I let go of it all. I felt the warm tears on my face and I started thinking about my son and how the money that I had set aside could pay for his college tuition. I hoped he would never have to go through what I had gone through. I tried to build a life filled with money and opportunity so that my son would not have to face the challenges of today’s black man—gangs, the streets, prison and violence.

  Am I a good mother? Is this the only way? I want my son to be proud when he looks at me. I want to provide food, shelter and clothing. I need to devise a plan to do this legally. I don’t ever want to leave my baby.

  I thought back to the good times at the salon. I heard my staff; we were laughing. There was Valerie at the first station. Val did great hair and was always there reassuring and supporting me. Valerie, thanks for your friendship. Then there was Lenaye, fresh out of beauty school, trying to be a better stylist. And Ms. Jewell. She had clients lined up and kept everyone laughing with her jokes. It was her fault the salon windows stayed fogged up. She was an outstanding manager with the will to survive. I learned so much from her. Next was Roger. He was a brother who did hair in a suit almost every day, and if it wasn’t a suit, it was a silk shirt and dress pants. He never got dirty and turned out excellent hairstyles. Roger believed in the salon and stayed with me through the rough times. Thanks, Roger. There was Marcia (Chino’s cousin). She did it all—hair, nails, eyebrows and makeup. My eyebrows have never been the same since she last did them.

  There was Michael, who was from Detroit. He told the best grip and short stories you ever heard. He wore a Jheri curl in the 1990s but somehow he pulled it off—it looked that good. Then there was the salon’s assistant, who we all called Baby. She was the salon’s baby and kept everyone shampooed and prepared for service. She was a lifesaver on those busy, busy days. I could never forget my ever efficient receptionist/manicurist, Stacey. She kept my head on and the books in order.

  I also had another part-time receptionist named Selima, and I still don’t know how she got the job done. She only wanted free hairdos and nails. She was one of the models I used in the hair show who helped me win first place. She wore a black dress and my award-winning hairstyle. Selima, we did that! She was like a lil’ sister but she was a horrible receptionist. We all loved her just the same.

  Last but not least was Renardo. He was a grand diva. I still believe he was supposed to be a she no matter what the birth certificate said. Renardo and I went around and around ove
r his ten-inch nails, but we got past that. I told him he could keep the makeup if he lost the nails. So we made it, and soon everyone grew.

  There were others who came and went, but they were the ones who helped make the salon. They were the ones that believed in me and Chino.

  To the staff, my L-O-Quent family, I never got the chance to say good-bye to you. I just walked away. Had I known better, I would have done better. I thank you, and I remember the fun. The salon is full. The lot is full, and our hard work is paying off. The clients are happy, and we are drinking daiquiris on a Saturday. They even have the flowers I arranged in that black vase. It is still on the receptionist desk. But all this is no more.

  I sat in my Jeep crying, releasing that which I held on to from my past.

  Let go! Pammy, it is time, just let go. I placed my hands to my lips and kissed them. Then I blew my salon a kiss goodbye. This attachment was over.

  I drove off and never returned.

  Twenty-three

  Ring… ring.

  “Hello?”

  “What that balla life look like?”

  “Hi, Chino.”

  “Pooh, I can’t stop thinking of you—of us—and what happened.”

  I placed my head in my hands and cried, continuing to beg Chino to listen to me. He paced back and forth, cursing me and gaining momentum in his anger. Walking over to me, he kicked me in the side and continued taunting me, going back to how much in love with someone else he was. While he was waving his gun around in the air, I slid my hand underneath the pillow and felt the small .380-caliber gun. I flicked the safety latch off. Chino didn’t detect anything; he was too engrossed in his ranting.

  He began talking about the killings and how I was his weak link because I knew everything. How he ran with the gun, unable to wipe the prints off ’cause he was butt naked. When he got into the white man’s car, he used the change of clothes given to him to remove his fingerprints from the gun. Chino and I buried the gun together, sealing our secret. Now he was talking about the location of the gun.

  “Yeah, I went back and got that gun just in case you flipped on me. I can’t even trust you no more. I have no more use for you. Pooh, your ass has gotta go. Have you said your prayers, love?”

  “Did you ever think we would see each other again?”

  “Yes, I knew we would. Pooh, what happened at the hotel?” Chino pressed.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb about his attempted booty call.

  “You didn’t want to be with me?”

  “No, Chino, not that way. I don’t want seconds.”

  “You had firsts and didn’t act right. All I ever wanted was someone for me.”

  Relaxing into our conversation, I commented, “Me, too. I don’t know where we went wrong.”

  Fearing the worst, I pointed the muzzle of my gun underneath the pillow at Chino and aimed. Tatt! He didn’t know what hit him. Feathers from the ripped pillow floated surreally in the air between us. As the warm hollow point became heated, he asked, “Pooh, where did you get a gun?”

  “It all went so fast. We stopped believing in each other.”

  “I know,” I sadly replied.

  “Pooh, I’m sorry,” he whispered into the phone sincerely.

  “Chino, I know, let’s drop it. Everything I do, I think of you. I know we can’t be together, but I still miss you.”

  “I miss you, too. We gotta do something to work this out, to make this right.”

  “What can we do?” I got excited at the possibility of a solution until I heard what he wanted.

  “My wife wants me to take a paternity test.”

  I stopped breathing for a second. “On y’all’s kids, right?” I questioned, knowing it wasn’t the case.

  “No, Pooh.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding! You constantly break my heart. We were together almost five years. The baby is yours, and you know it! Chino, anything that is mine or of me, you should accept. I would give you anything to help your kids and your wife.”

  “Pooh, calm down.”

  “No!” I yelled at him. “Like now, even though we hustle together, I still ask you for nothing off the top for my son—your son—and I know that you’re getting money. This is crazy!”

  “Shit! I just don’t know how to correct this,” Chino said with desperation.

  “Correct what? Your lies? I will never agree to a paternity test. I want my son even if you don’t.”

  He didn’t say anything, so I continued, “Chino, here we go again. All I wanted to do was help you and thank you for the memories, but it’s obvious we both have issues.”

  Finally, he said, “I don’t know what to say, Pooh. I do miss you.”

  I shielded my face from retaliation as he dropped his gun and grabbed his stomach. “Pooh, don’t shoot me again. Just drop the gun.” I dropped the gun and ran to his arms. “Oh my God, I’m going to call 911.”

  Chino held me tightly. “No, calm down and call my boy Darren.”

  “I miss my Chino. I don’t know who you are anymore.” Fighting back the tears, I listened for a dream.

  “I miss you, too, Pooh. Carmen is different,” Chino said.

  “Like Joe Bub Baby used to say all the time, I put the ‘m’ on actin’ and made it mackin’, it’s just a role. How is Joe Bub Baby anyway?”

  “You know I don’t fuck with him after that triple-cross move he pulled,” Chino said bitterly.

  “Oh, I forgot about that. Where’s his girlfriend, is she standing by him while he is doing his ten-piece extra-crispy prison term?”

  I ran to the phone and did as instructed. Chino crept his way upstairs to the kitchen door leading to the garage. He raised the garage door with the remote from the kitchen.

  “Chino, Darren said hold tight. He’ll be here in five minutes.” I became hysterical, asking him if he was okay.

  He remained calm. “Don’t worry, Pooh, it will be okay.”

  “Yeah, you know his girl Chazz Baby Love is in his corner. Chazz asked me about you. You should call her.”

  “Well, I’m glad she’s standing by her man. I just pray he don’t do her like I got done when he gets out.” I said this hoping that Chino would get my meaning, then continued, “I should go see Joe Bub. We both should. He’s doing ten years. Let the past be the past.”

  “Yeah, we should. I remember him being there for me when I got out of prison. Pooh, he used to ask about you all the time. He also knew you were getting money. Joe was for you, believe it or not.”

  “Chino, we could reminisce forever but I’m living for today and trying to get my life together so my son’s life is better—”

  He interrupted, “Despite what you think, I do care for the baby. I know with a mom like you, he’ll be fine, so I don’t worry about him. You’ve taken care of so many people; I know he is in good hands.”

  It seemed like an eternity before Darren’s Jag screeched to a halt in our driveway. He ran inside and I fell into his arms, crying and talking about how I had shot Chino. He stepped back and looked at Chino for advice as to what to do.

  Chino said, taking the lead, “Darren, I had a little accident, and I need you to take me to the hospital.”

  I screamed, “No, I’ll take you!”

  “You can’t drive—you’re hysterical. Besides, they’ll arrest you for the shooting,” Chino said while in obvious pain.

  “He still needs a father. You had one.”

  “Maybe one day I can be that father. Just not now. But I do know when he… one day… when he’s a man and he talks to me, he will look in my eyes and see I got love for him and his mother.”

  “Love is what love does, Chino. Your love is doing nothing for him.” Chino had no response to what I had just told him. “I gotta go.”

  “Where you goin’?”

  “I have a date.”

  “A date? With who?”

  “What?” I laughed, merely out of shock. “You gonna tell me you want a paternity test, you can’t b
e a father to our son, but you can question me about who I go out with? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

  “Pooh, I don’t wanna hear all that now. Who is it?” Chino questioned again. “Is it that Jamaican Erik?”

  “No.”

  “It’s that sucka Delano, isn’t it?”

  “As a matter of fact, Chino, it is. He’s good to me, and he cares for my son.”

  “Your son, huh?”

  “You don’t claim him.”

  “He can’t replace me.”

  “I’m not trying to replace you. Replace means to substitute with the same.”

  “But I want to, please, I’m sorry,” I sobbed.

  Chino began to limp to the car, applying pressure to his stomach. Darren wrapped Chino’s arm around his neck and helped carry him to the Jag. I put on my sneakers and jumped in the backseat against their wishes. Darren gunned it, racing through red lights and headed toward Mount Carmel East Hospital’s emergency entrance.

  “I don’t want the same thing I had with you. I want more. I deserve more, Chino.”

  “Yeah, you do. I know you do.”

  The phone filled with silence. Our moods were like a pendulum.

  “Pooh, you’re growing up.”

  “Yes, I am, and I like it. I just want a family.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You’ve got one.”

  Arriving at the hospital, Chino continued to warn me, “Pooh, if you come into the hospital, don’t say you shot me. Darren, take her home.”

  I continued to plead, “No, I want to stay with you.”

  We ran to the entrance, gaining the staff’s attention. They ran to the car with a gurney and assisted Chino onto it. I kissed the sides of his face and pleaded, announcing to everyone within hearing distance that I shot him and how sorry I was and how they had to help him. Inside the hospital, everyone was racing as Chino began to lose consciousness.

 

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