by Kiki Swinson
“You’re supposed to be here fucking me,” he said. I could tell he was smiling.
“I’m at the shop,” I lied.
“Oh, OK. Well, I’m gonna chill in the house for the rest of the night.” Just as Fatu told me that, I saw him coming out of his building. Fatu was a fucking liar!
“Fatu, I’m working on my last client, so I’ll call you back,” I lied again. I needed to get off the phone with him and be ready to follow his ass. Sure enough, Fatu jumped in his ride after Hakim drove it out of the valet parking lot. I waited for three cars to pass and pulled out into traffic after Fatu. He hopped on Highway 290 and headed northeast, toward Rice Village. He dipped in and out of traffic like his mind was going bad, but I hung in there with him, all the while being careful not to get spotted. Then, out of the blue, a fucking sixteen-wheeler jumped right in front of me.
“Move, bitch!” I screamed. The truck inched along, and I swear, I had to have been behind him for at least two miles. I tried to move into the next lane, but the other cars whizzed past so fast, I couldn’t make a move. “Fuck!” I yelled in frustration. I knew I had lost Fatu.
When I finally made it around this big-ass rig, Fatu’s car was nowhere in sight. Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. Now I was really frustrated and pissed.
“Urrrrggghhh! Where the fuck are you?” I screamed, letting the tears run down my face. I knew he was up to something, and I wanted so badly to find out where he was going and who he was going to see. I fucked up, though, and wouldn’t get that chance now.
I took the next exit, which was Bernard Drive, and made a U-turn to get back on the highway. There was really nothing else for me to do but go home.
Exasperated, I slowly pulled into my driveway. I had so much shit on my mind, I couldn’t even see straight. I climbed out of my car and skulked toward my front door. After I threw my keys and handbag onto the coffee table in the living room, I flopped down on the sofa and wondered where the hell Fatu could’ve gone. I picked up my cordless phone and dialed his number. The motherfucker didn’t answer. It rang once and went directly to voice mail.
“Son of a bitch!” I screamed and threw the cordless phone against the wall.
Later that night my telephone rang while I was knocked out. I didn’t bother to look at the CallerID because my eyes weren’t focused enough to see the numbers anyway.
“Hello,” I said, sounding out of it.
“Kira, wake up! This is Carmen.”
“Who?” I asked, wanting the caller to repeat herself.
“It’s me, Carmen.”
I yawned and looked around at my alarm clock. It read one-thirty am, so I immediately knew something was wrong because Carmen never called my house this late, not even when she worked for me at the shop.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I just got a call from Nikki and she was crying, talking about she had gotten herself in a lot of shit and she was not going to be able to undo what she’d done, but she wouldn’t say what it was. So I was thinking that maybe if you called her she would talk to you.”
“Carmen, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Nikki and I aren’t on it like that. She stays out of my business and I do the same. So whatever she’s got going on, I’m sure she’ll figure out a way to get out of it. She’s a big girl. She’ll be all right,” I assured her.
Carmen seemed offended. “Damn! It’s like that? I see why she doesn’t fuck with you anymore,” she commented.
“Good! Now that makes two of us,” I said, and then I pressed down on the end button and put the phone back on the base.
I lay back in my bed and thought about what it was that Nikki was trying to tell Carmen. I figured it probably had something to do with a man, so I immediately dismissed the thought and buried my head in my pillow. But then it hit me that I still hadn’t spoken with Fatu, so I slid back across my bed and reached for the cordless phone. I had this nigga on speed dial, so I pressed the appropriate number. His phone rang one time and then went straight to voice mail. My blood pressure went sky high.
“What the fuck is going on with this nigga?” I wondered aloud.
It took everything within me not to slip on a pair of sweats and some sneakers and go look for this nigga. I was known for stalking out a nigga’s spot if I suspected him of fucking around on me. I mean, it wasn’t nothing for me to sit outside a guy’s house for hours on end, especially if my intuition was killing me. But since there was no guarantee that he was even at home, I figured it was best that I chill on out before I went out there and ran into somebody else’s whip out of mere frustration.
I could, however, call the club to see if the motherfucker was there. Bintu answered the phone, and I didn’t hesitate to ask him where Fatu was.
“He’s not here,” he said, his accent really strong.
“Then where is he?” I snapped.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him for a few hours now.”
“Are you expecting him to come back?”
“Well, a couple hours ago he said he was running out and that he’d be back, but he hasn’t shown up yet and the club is about to close.”
“OK, well when he gets back tell him I am really pissed off with him and that he better have a good damn excuse of why his phone is going straight to voice mail.”
“All right. I will relay the message.”
“Thanks,” I said and ended the call.
Once again I had hit a brick wall. This nigga was still out there in them motherfucking streets. And the fucked-up thing about it was that I didn’t know where. Bintu didn’t even know where he was, and that was mind boggling. But it would be all right, because as soon as I got my hands on this nigga, I was going to kill him. I was not going to go through this same shit all over again. I had put up with enough shit from Ricky and his bitches! I would be damned if I went through that mess again. He’d die first.
Your Heart Don’t Lie
(Kira Speaks)
When Fatu finally called, which was the next morning, he told me he wanted to take me out to lunch. I took him up on his offer because I wanted to meet him face to face when I put his ass on the hot seat. While I sat across from Fatu in Ruth’s Chris, picking at my food, I made little innuendos about him fucking around on me, but he played it off very well. As a matter-of-fact, he acted like he was hard of hearing. I knew better, though, and he knew I knew it too.
See, things had definitely changed between us. A lot of his time was unaccounted for lately. Fatu was always telling me he had this or that to take care of, but it was never anything I could verify. With Bintu and all the other guys running the nightclub, he didn’t have to be there as much, so when I was in the shop late at night, working miracles on my clients’ heads, he had a lot of idle time. A few times the nigga did a couple of disappearing acts. When the shit started happening, it took me back to my days with Ricky. It wasn’t something I took lightly. My instincts told me there was someone else.
I finally looked up from my plate and glanced at Fatu. He was distracted. The pretty Hispanic waitress had stopped to check on us, and as she pranced away from our table I watched Fatu follow her with his eyes. Would you look at this motherfucker? Does he really think I’m stupid? I wondered, rolling my eyes in disgust.
At first our relationship had been what some might consider a whirlwind love affair. We use to do everything together and he didn’t spare any expenses, especially when he flew me first class to Cancun for four days. That weekend was so fucking nice. This nigga had us equipped with concierge services and the whole nine. In addition to that, this cat would send me roses on the regular and he’d even cook for me. Now how many cats you know send their girls flowers and cook for them on a regular? Not too many. That’s why I held on to his ass. And what’s really weird is that after only three months of dating, we were engaged. My head told me to be careful, but my heart told me to give it a try. Now I stared across the table at Fatu and wanted to slap the shit out of him.
&nbs
p; “What did you say happened to your hand and neck again?” I asked, referring to the deep scratches Fatu had on his hand, and the welts on his neck.
“Kira, didn’t I just tell you that I got into a scuffle with some drunk guy before I left the club last night while me and one of the bouncers were throwing him out?” he asked dismissively, shoveling a forkful of steak into his mouth.
I looked down at my drink, contemplating whether to throw the shit in his face. What it looked like to me was that he and his bitch must’ve had rough sex, and she scratched his ass up.
“Yeah, you told me, but those scratches look like they came from a chick’s nails,” I replied, twisting my lips into a snarl. Fatu didn’t know I’d searched his shit at home and found lipstick on one of his dress shirts a few weeks ago. I didn’t say anything at the time, because all he would’ve done was blame it on a female customer he hugged at the club. I figured I’d gather a little more evidence before I confronted him.
“Look, Kira, I told you where they came from. You should be happy just to be with me. I told you many times that I could have any woman I want,” Fatu replied. He always remained calm, even when he was being accused. That shit pissed me off even more. What really got under my skin was when he reminded me that as a wealthy, single, heterosexual man he could have any woman he wanted.
“I know what you told me, but my intuition tells me that your ass may be cheating,” I shot back, throwing my napkin onto the table.
Fatu remained silent. I folded my arms across my chest and gave him the silent treatment right back. Neither of us looked at each other. He pushed food around on his plate and I occasionally played with the straw in my drink. Anger welled up inside me and I finally exploded.
“You know what? You can sit there and play dumb all you want,” I said in a low, angry whisper, “but I know what time it is. If you think I’m going to sit around while you go out and collect scratches from other bitches, then you’re sadly mistaken!” I felt like I was going to burst into tears.
“Relax, Kira. I love only you.” Fatu took my hand into his, trying to hide his scratches, and then kissed me. I smiled inside when he said he loved me, but I kept a straight face. I wanted to believe that he wouldn’t cheat. I’d taken enough shit from Ricky and Russ. I wasn’t trying to go down that same road again.
After our disagreement, Fatu and I didn’t speak to each other during the entire drive home. I made up my mind that I was going to stop acting paranoid and just let him love me, because whether or not I believed it, I was about to be married all over again. This time around, I was going to be happy and rich, and maybe be a mother too.
“Are you going home with me?” Fatu asked.
“If you want me to,” I answered.
“What kind of answer is that? You know I love it when you’re with me. Why you think I keep bugging you about moving in with me?” He reached for my hand.
“Let’s not get into that again. I told you to wait until after the wedding.”
“I know, I know. But can you blame me? Look at you! You’re beautiful! So when I can’t share my bed with you every night, it bothers me.”
I smiled because everything he said sounded heartfelt. I reminded him that our wedding date was less than a month away, so we didn’t have long at all to be together. He bought that line tonight, but I knew that in a couple of days I would be hearing him whine about our living arrangements again.
Fatu used a digital cardkey to open the huge French doors at the entrance of his apartment. I always felt like royalty when I came over. Walking inside, the smell of jasmine was in the air. I could tell the housekeeper had made a house call today because there wasn’t a dust ball in sight. I took off my shoes and flopped down on the love seat. Fatu walked upstairs. I flicked on his sixty-five-inch HDTV that hung over his fireplace and began channel surfing. I ended up at the eleven o’clock news. I wasn’t really into the news, and I was about to change the channel when a story caught my attention. I listened intently as the reporter spoke.
“Police say that a fifth woman was found murdered in her home on Jones Road, near Highway 290. Police Chief Ray Biggs would not confirm the manner of death of this last victim, but the chief did say that the victim put up a fierce struggle and may have injured her assailant. Police believe that all five murders are related. All of the women were murdered in their homes, and all lived in upscale neighborhoods. Police are asking all women to watch their surroundings as they go home, and to make a note if they see anyone suspicious following them or lurking around.”
The news report spooked me out. I couldn’t believe that there might be a serial killer in my neighborhood.
“What is that you are watching?” Fatu’s voice boomed behind me. I jumped and dropped the remote.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that! You scared the shit out of me,” I gasped, holding my chest.
“What are you afraid of?” He chuckled.
“There’s a serial killer in the area, killing women. They said that they believe the guy is following the women home, and then killing them in their houses. That is something I need to be aware of.”
“Oh, I’m sure that once he kidnaps you, with all of that mouth you got, he would set you free quickly,” Fatu joked as he sat next to me.
“That’s not funny.” I rolled my eyes and inched away from him, because I knew what he wanted. I got up and said, “I’m going to take a shower.” I lied.
“I’ll be here waiting.” He smiled and touched his dick.
I rushed upstairs. Although I said I wasn’t going to think about Fatu with other women anymore, or about him cheating, I couldn’t help it. I knew I had a few minutes to search through his shit before he came upstairs to join me in the shower. I crept into his bedroom. Everything was in its place. Fatu kept his shit so neat, I swore he was obsessive-compulsive.
“Shit,” I whispered. I didn’t have much time. I decided to go to the walk-in closet first. If I got busted in there it wouldn’t seem so bad, since I had a small section of the closet for my own clothes. Looking around the closet, I could tell Fatu had been inside. His dirty clothes bin had one shirt sticking out. I frowned. That was unlike him.
I walked over to the bin and lifted the top. I wanted to sniff the boxers he last wore to see if I smelled any pussy juice or saw any cum stains, because if I did, then it was going to be on. As I dug into the bin and searched for the boxers, my hands landed on a white tee. The shirt had a little bit of blood smeared across the bottom of it, and I could tell that if he put on the shirt, the blood spot would hang right above his groin area.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked aloud.
“Kira!” Fatu called. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. I hurriedly stuffed everything back into the hamper. I whirled around, trying to make sure everything was the way he left it.
“Kira?” Fatu called out again, walking into the closet.
I tried to hide my agitation. “Yes? What is it?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get something to change into before I hop into the shower,” I said nervously, faking like I was eager to fuck him. Fatu looked at me strangely, then he looked around the closet. He looked back at me with a suspicious glare. I smiled a crooked, nervous smile.
“Need some help?”
“Nah, I’m cool. I got it. Now go and get in the bed.”
“All right. But hurry up and shower. My dick is getting impatient.” He walked out of the closet.
I felt like throwing up and my hands shook as I went into the bathroom. I couldn’t help but think about the bloodied T-shirt in Fatu’s closet. The only thing that surfaced in my mind was that he fucked some nasty-ass ho while she was on her fucking period. How fucking disgusting could he be? What was he doing, trying to get AIDS or something? Whatever it was he was out there doing, it didn’t sit well with me at all, so something was going to have to give.
As I was about to head into the shower, I immediately thought back to a sex
ual episode between me and Fatu that had freaked me out. One night while making love, Fatu was going crazy, like he loved the pussy. All of a sudden he flipped me over, pulled me up on my hands and knees, and forcefully rammed his dick into my asshole. I was not ready for his brutality, and I screamed in pain and grabbed handfuls of the Egyptian cotton sheets. Fatu ignored my screams, grabbed me around the neck, and pulled me closer to him. He rammed me in the ass like an animal while I cried and screamed. Then, just as quickly as he started, he stopped. He growled like an animal as he came. I collapsed on the bed and curled into a fetal position, crying in pain. Fatu finally realized that I was in severe pain, and he rolled over to comfort me.
He told me that he didn’t mean to hurt me, but that my sex was so good he’d gotten carried away. I was so in love with Fatu at the time, I just accepted his explanation. That night he held me and caressed me like no man had done since Ricky. I wanted to be loved so badly that I overlooked all of Fatu’s sexual hang-ups. I figured that one day I would get used to it. But now I wondered. I knew I couldn’t get used to him cheating.
By the time I came out of the bathroom, Fatu had fallen asleep. I was relieved. I stood in the doorway of the bedroom and watched him for a minute, then I noticed the light flashing on his iPhone. He had a text message.
Who the fuck is texting him this time of night? I wondered. It must be his bitch!
I tiptoed over to the dresser, picked up the phone, and quickly pressed the button to read his text.
WE GOT A PRIVATE PARTY GOING ON IN THE VIP ROOM! PUT KIRA TO BED & COME JOIN US!
The message was from Bintu. I automatically assumed that they had some strippers up at the club, shaking their stinking asses for a few dollars. I didn’t know what Bintu had going on in his fucking mind, but Fatu wasn’t about to go nowhere. I wanted to let Bintu know this personally, but I used Fatu’s phone to call him back.
“What’s up, brother?” Bintu answered.
“Nah, it’s me, Kira,” I replied with an attitude.
