“I’d do it for you, Brick. In a heartbeat.”
“I believe you, Misty. I believe you would. But you’re not me. I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for…your death.”
“You won’t really be responsible. It’s all my idea, my plan, and I’ve already done my part. Been spitting out my meds, dropping them on the floor,” she said, sharing information as if Brick had agreed.
“Why you telling me that?” he asked, his gaze sweeping the floor.
She ignored his question. “My nurse has to switch me from one side of the bed to the other. My mom has to move me when the nurse has off. I’ll get pressure sores if I stay in one place all the time,” she explained. “And my limbs have to get stretched out. You know, so they don’t start contracting,” she added with a sigh.
That last bit of information made Brick cringe. Though he’d never personally witnessed the stretching procedure, he’d heard Misty’s heartbreaking cries and moans. Sounds that made him shudder and often brought his wife to tears.
Misty went on, “When I’m near the edge of the bed, I drop the pills I’ve been saving. Antidepressants, sleeping pills, and I even gave up my pain killers…my Vicodin.”
“What you been taking for pain?”
“Nothing. Been enduring the pain. That’s gangsta, right?”
“Damn, Misty. Ain’t no reason for this. Why you hurting yourself?”
“Gotta do what I gotta do.” Misty was on some serious shit. And all he could do was shake his head.
“My meds are scattered around on the floor. Can you pick ’em up for me, Brick?” Misty sounded exhausted, like she’d expended all her energy.
I’ll pick ’em up. But that’s it. That’s all I’m gonna do, he told himself.
Feeling like he was moving through quicksand, he made his way around the bed.
On his knees, he began collecting the tablets and capsules that had been strewn about the carpet. Most had rolled out of sight and were hidden beneath the bed. Brick stood up, his fist balled tight around the deadly combination of pills.
“How many did you find?”
“Thirteen.”
“Lucky number.” She gave a sardonic laugh.
“Ain’t nothing funny,” Brick mumbled. “This is crazy.”
“You’re right. It’s crazy that there aren’t any laws that will allow me to choose whether or not I want to live in this condition.”
“I realize it’s not easy, Misty, but—”
“But nothing. It’s fucked-up.”
“I know it is.”
“Does that mean you’re going to help me?”
Brick went silent. He looked around the room, frowning…looking tormented. “What about your mother? She don’t wanna lose you. You’re not even considering what something like this will do to your mom.”
“I love my mom, but seriously, this isn’t about her. It’s about the quality of my life and my right to decide to live or die. My mom isn’t the one who’s condemned to a lifetime of staring at these four walls. It’s gonna hurt her, but in time, she’ll get past it and move on. She’ll realize that I’m at peace and in a much better place.”
Brick stuffed the pills inside the pocket of his jeans. “I can’t deal with this. Not right now. I need some time by myself. I can’t think straight with you pressuring me.”
“Come on, Brick, please don’t leave me like this.”
Stubbornly, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Not right now, Misty.” Overwhelmed by deep anguish, Brick bit down on his trembling bottom lip. “I can’t make a snap decision. I gotta think on this.”
He snatched a tissue…then one more from the box. These were used to wipe the tears that were sliding down his face. It took another handful of tissues to muffle the hoarse cries that escaped his throat as he turned his back to Misty and left the room.
CHAPTER 57
Brick went out for a few hours. Drove around aimlessly for the first hour, and then wandered into a random, hole-in-the-wall bar. A place like this was the perfect spot for a tortured soul like Brick. Sitting alone at the bar, shoulders hunched, Brick was forlorn as he nursed a cold beer.
After guzzling down the second bottle, Brick decided it was time to go home.
Thomasina was already in bed when he entered their comfortable bedroom. Using the bluish light of the TV, Brick undressed quickly and slid into bed beside of the soft, fleshy warmth of the woman he loved.
Reaching for her, Brick thought, Never had to make important decisions by myself before. I always ran it past you first, baby. But I’m on my own with this one.
Thomasina sat up. “I don’t know what you and Misty talked about today but you sure lifted her spirits.”
Brick arched a brow.
“She was real talkative tonight. We had the nicest conversation.”
“About what?” Brick was hopeful. Maybe Misty had changed her mind about dying.
“She talked about her condition. Said that being paralyzed and having so much time on her hands is forcing her to give thought to what’s really important in life.”
“Oh yeah? What’s important to her?” Brick probed.
“Love. She said that being loved is all that matters.” Wearing a soft smile, Thomasina nodded. “Shame it took my baby getting all mangled and paralyzed before she figured that out.”
Brick pulled Thomasina closer.
Resting her head on his chest, she stretched an arm across his body. He stroked her cheek consolingly. Kissed her forehead.
“Everything’s gonna be alright,” he said in a confident whisper.
“I keep telling myself that Misty’s always been a fighter. No way she’s going to give up on herself.”
“You’re right,” Brick said in a soothing tone.
“Brick?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“You believe in karma?”
“Whatchu mean?”
Well, it’s like the sayings, ‘what goes around comes around’ and ‘you reap what you sow,’ ‘chickens coming home to roost’…”
“Oh, yeah, I get it. I can see the truth in all that. Yeah, I do believe in karma.”
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe what happened to Misty is because of what happened to that man. You know, on Grammy night. In the kitchen,” she whispered.
Thomasina was very still as she waited for Brick’s response. They both knew his response would determine their future together. She’d never be able to forgive him. Her love for him would turn to hatred. She would be forced to leave him if she thought for one second that he was in any way responsible for her daughter’s condition.
Brick gave the only verdict a sane man could give.
“C’mon, baby. Please don’t do that to yourself. What happened to Misty was nobody’s fault except the muthafucka who did it. It was horrible. The worst day of our lives. But some things you just can’t make no sense out of. That was a terrible thing that happened to Misty, to our family. It tore us up real bad, but we’re gonna get through this. We’re not perfect by no means, Thomasina. We made some mistakes but you and me, we’re good people, regardless of what happened. Don’t you ever forget that. Hear me?”
“Yes. Thank you, Baron.”
He massaged Thomasina’s neck until her breathing pattern told him that she was in a deep sleep.
Then he eased away from her. Crept to the closet. He threw on a bathrobe and went to Misty.
He entered her darkened bedroom and softly closed the door.
“Brick?” she murmured.
“Yeah, Misty. It’s me.”
“Did you bring the pills?”
“Yeah, I got ’em.”
Her sigh of relief was audible.
“How you wanna do this?” Choked up, his voice cracked.
“Turn the light on.”
Brick paced across the room and clicked on the bedside lamp. The light cast a soft glow on Misty’s poor, disfigured face.
He eased into the chair next to the bed, anxiety dampe
ning his palms, sweat trickling down his face. Too hot and anxious to be worried about modesty, he whipped off his bathrobe.
Stripped down to his boxers and wife beater, he leaned forward in his seat. “Your mom said you were talking about love,” he said, making nervous small talk.
She smiled. “I realize that nothing matters except love. You have my mom and I have Shane.”
Brick didn’t know what to make of Misty’s claim that she and Shane had established an other-worldly relationship. It was clear that she believed it. And her belief made her happy. Now it was up to him to give her what she so desperately wanted. A one-way ticket to join Shane on the other side.
Whether it made any sense or not, whether it was right or wrong. He didn’t have a choice. He had to do it. For Misty.
He stood up and began filling a glass with water from a pitcher that was kept at her bedside. The sounds of flowing water and Brick’s drumming heartbeat interrupted the quiet of the night.
“I don’t wanna do this.” His voice was an agonized whisper. “But I realize it’s the right thing,” he said as he picked up the glass.
Misty nodded. “It’s what I want, Brick.”
“Despite everything…” His words caught in his throat. “Every- thing you put me through…don’t none of that matter now.”
He hovered over her briefly, and then very gently clutched the back of her neck. His fingers stroked the curls at the nape of her neck as he lifted her head from the pillow.
Bitter tears streamed down his face. “I love you, Misty. Un- conditionally. I never stopped. You and me…we’re family, girl. We go way back. We been connected so long…it’s like you’re my blood.”
“I know, Brick.”
From a shaky hand, Brick fed Misty the lethal cocktail. One by one, she swallowed the pills, taking a sip of water after each one rested upon her tongue.
Brick clutched the last pill to his chest as he looked down lovingly into eyes that he’d never be able to look into again. The gravity of the moment rocked him.
Unlike the intruder whose life he’d willfully and purposefully extinguished, Brick didn’t want the light of life to go out of Misty’s eyes. He wanted to put a stop to this madness. But it was too late. This light would soon disappear and he would be the person responsible. The person who would have to console her mother.
Though tears clouded his vision, Brick carefully placed the last pill on Misty’s tongue. She took a last sip of water and then blissfully closed her eyes.
Brick’s heart hammered so hard, his chest ached.
She opened her eyes. “I can feel it working.”
He grasped her hand. “Are you in pain?” Brick wouldn’t be able to bear it if he’d caused Misty to suffer further.
She gave his hand a light squeeze and whispered, “No, I feel good. Real nice. Getting real sleepy though.” She closed her eyes again. “Feel better than I’ve felt for a long time.”
“Oh, God, Misty…” Brick gasped. “I can’t believe this shit is really happening. How could you be going out like this? It ain’t fair. It just ain’t fair, man.” He sniffled, his broad shoulders heaving as he quietly cried.
Brokenhearted, he lowered himself onto Misty’s bed and lay down beside her dying body. As he wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, he saw her open her eyes and smile up at him. He held her tighter, hoping he could stop her transition. Trying to keep life within her by sheer will alone.
Misty buried her head into Brick’s muscular chest as she descended into her final sleep.
Sinking into oblivion, her awareness of this world began to recede. It was replaced by a glorious celestial landscape, and Misty was able to discern a shape. A hauntingly beautiful and familiar shape. A man. Walking toward her.
Oh, Shane!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Allison Hobbs is the national bestselling author of thirteen novels. She resides in Philadelphia and is working on her next novel.
LEARN MORE ABOUT BRICK AND MISTY.
IF YOU ENJOYED “LIPSTICK HUSTLA,” CHECK OUT
BY ALLISON HOBBS
AVAILABLE FROM STREBOR BOOKS
CHAPTER 1
I wonder if those creams really work.” Misty trailed a finger over Brick’s soft penis, trying to caress the sagging appendage back to life.
Lying on his back, his head resting on his clasped palms, Brick jerked himself upright. “What kind of cream?”
“Stay-hard cream,” she said nonchalantly, knowing Brick would become incensed.
“What the hell do I need that for?”
“It’s supposed to make you stay hard…last longer.” Misty sighed, withdrew her finger, clearly giving up on any hope that Brick would become erect.
“Cut that shit!” Brick scowled, further distorting his face, which was already disfigured by a cruel scar that ran jagged from his hairline down to his chin. “I pounded on you for two straight hours—killing that pussy. But I held back, didn’t bust ’til after you did.” Brick gave Misty a look of disbelief. “What? You expect my jawn to stay hard for two, three days?” Brick gave a little chuckle, but the sound lacked mirth. “Come on, Misty, stop being so greedy. I gotta get some sleep.” Brick rolled over on his side. He pulled the top sheet over his mountainous body and also over his head. His back, broad and hard as granite, was turned stubbornly toward Misty.
“You claim you love me, but you’re so selfish, sometimes!” Being spiteful, Misty plucked Brick in the back of his sheet-covered head.
“Stop frontin’; you know you got yours,” Brick mumbled, his face buried in the pillow.
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t get shit; I faked it! I knew you were tired, so I faked it so you could bust, rest up and start all over again. I didn’t think you’d lay your selfish ass down and try to get your snore on.” Growing more resentful by the minute, Misty swatted Brick with her pillow.
He threw the sheet off his head. “Stop lying. After all these years, you think I don’t know when your lil’ ass is faking?” He flung the pillow she’d hit him with, but used much more force than he’d intended. The sound of the thumping sound made by the pillow, as it connected with Misty’s face, resonated inside the bedroom.
Misty’s mouth dropped open, stunned that Brick had hit her. It didn’t matter that it was just a playful smack of a pillow and that no real harm had been done. She was furious at his audacity. The five-foot, one hundred and five-pound little dynamo pummeled Brick’s hard-as-concrete arm and shoulder, but quickly realized that he barely felt the blows from her small fists. “Are you fuckin’ crazy?” she yelled and then, using all her strength, she elbowed him as viciously as she could.
Brick laughed and said, “Ow! I might need an ambulance.”
Misty rubbed her cheek. “I don’t see anything funny about a big-ass man whipping my ass and leaving welts all over my face.”
“Whipping your ass? Is that what you gon’ tell the po-po?” He laughed even harder, his loving eyes adoring her, despite her fury.
“It’s not funny, Brick! My face feels like it’s starting to swell up.”
Brick sat up. His unattractive, scarred face was frowned in confusion and concern. “I didn’t mean to throw the pillow that hard. Misty, baby. I’m sorry, aiight?”
“No! It’s not aiight. You threw that jawn like it was a football; acting like you Donovan McNabb or somebody.”
Gently, the giant of a man pulled Misty’s small, delicate hand away from her face. With increased concern, he scrutinized the right side of her undeniably beautiful face and then he inspected the left side. “It’s aiight, Misty. Ain’t no marks,” he said, genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean it. You know I forget my strength. I’d hurt myself before I’d put a mark on your pretty face.” Involuntarily, his hand touched the gruesome, jagged scar on his face, taking both him and Misty back to the dreadful night it happened.
Shaking away the memory, Misty refused to dwell on the past. “You gotta stop playin’ all the time. If it wasn’t for me—the way I lo
ok—we couldn’t make any money. Shit, we wouldn’t get in all those clubs for free or nothing.” Misty sighed, giving Brick a look of disgust. Suddenly, she grimaced and clutched her stomach.
“What’s wrong? Did I go too far up in you?”
“No,” she uttered in a pained, raspy whisper. “Cramps.” She bent at the waist and commenced to rock and moan softly.
The worry lines that intermingled with his jagged scar made Brick appear more grotesque than he actually was. “I didn’t know you had cramps. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were acting all sleepy and everything, so I was going to try to get you in the mood—trying to get you aroused.”
Brick’s eyes saddened. “Misty, baby, why’d you let me fuck you so hard if your stomach was hurting?”
“It wasn’t that bad, yet.”
“So, why you have to come at me all shady, pretending that you were horny? If I banged you again, you’d be in worse pain.” He looked in her eyes intently. “You gotta let me know, when you feeling bad. It don’t matter how tired I am, I’d never go to sleep and leave you laying awake, in pain. And you know it.” His voice rose in anger.
“I said that I’m sorry for not telling you, so stop yelling. That’s not making it any better.” Annoyed, Misty sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Can I get something off of my chest?” he asked, voice lowered.
She nodded, her expression becoming increasingly pained.
“Why you got so much game, Misty? You be trying to get over when you don’t even have to?”
Misty smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Brick. You know that I have a big problem with honesty.”
“I know.” Brick caressed her silky hair. “It’s all good, though. You were a born scam artist. Real talk; your game is tight. But you act like you in this by yourself.” He shook his head. “I’m on your side. How many times I gotta prove myself? I’m ride or die.” Brick nodded emphatically.
“I know you’re on my side, Brick,” she said, and tenderly traced his scar with her fingertip, silently acknowledging the sacrifice he’d made for her.
Lipstick Hustla Page 26
