Violet: Strawberry Mansion 3

by Julia Press Simmons

  “How?” Begonia moaned. She looked up at Portia. “You got 200k? Is pussy paying that good? What about you, Lisa, we robbing McDonald’s tonight? How are y’all going to help me?”

  Babygirl stood up from the steps. “Well, first off, If you turn off the fucking water works and the all that damn drama, we can tell you how we plan to help.”

  “I thought I told you to shut the fuck up.”

  “Naw, Honey, damn. We trying to help this bitch and she wanna fight and cry like a little ass girl.”

  Portia shot Babygirl a look hot enough to melt ice cubes in the freezer, and Babygirl sat down and stared at her sneakers. “Thank you, damn.” She climbed down off the couch and sat on the coffee table. “We’re gonna set Rodney up.”

  “How in the hell are we going to do that?” Begonia asked softly.

  Portia snatched the bottle out of Peanut’s hand and took a quick swig. “I have a plan.”

  Chapter 11

  Tabitha signed Erica into her daycare center, kissed her goodbye, and watched her run into her classroom to be with her friends. She zipped her jacket back up and put her purse back on her shoulder before walking back to her car. Although it was a warm day, bright and sunny with a breeze, Tabitha felt a chill down to her bones. “It’s okay, Tab, everything is going to be okay.” She had to have said that to herself a thousand times before leaving the house, and a thousand more times on the way to the daycare center, but she really didn’t think it would be.

  Buckling her seatbelt, she took a big gulp from her teacup to try and steady her nerves.

  It wasn’t working.

  She drove home on auto pilot. Darren and Tony were already loading Erica’s bed and dresser onto the U-Haul truck parked in front of her mother’s house.

  “Hey, baby,” Darren shouted when he spotted Tabitha walking up the steps.

  “Hey, I’m gonna go put my purse up and come help you.”

  “Aw, baby, you don’t have to do that, we got this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, baby, relax. It’s not like we have to pack up the whole house. We’ll be done in no time.”

  Tony stuck his head out of the truck. “A brotha could use a fried egg or two and some bacon.”

  Tabitha laughed. “Are you hungry too, baby?”

  “Now you know I’m not going to turn down food.”

  “Okay, guys, I got the hint, breakfast coming right up.” Tabitha put her purse on the couch and hollered up the steps. “Mom, I’m back. Do you want something to eat, because I’m about to cook?” She didn’t wait for a reply. Walking into the kitchen, she washed her hands and started to pull out everything she would need.

  Shanice walked into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table. “I want some eggs.”

  Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Why aren’t you in school?”

  “Well, damn, good morning to you too.”

  “Don’t start, Shanice. I’m really not able to take it this morning.” She sprayed the frying pan with Pam, and turned the flame on. “Go ask momma if she wants bacon and eggs or something different.”

  “Momma Mabel’s not here. She went to the church with my mom.”

  “And they just left you here?”

  “They didn’t know I was still here because I was sorta hanging out in the basement.”

  “Where’s Lisa?”

  “She’s with Portia’s girls getting schooled on how to be a high-class ho. She’s going to be there all day. They’re supposed to go shopping and junk later.”

  Tabitha dropped the eggs she was holding onto the floor. “Awwww, fuck!” She grabbed the dish towel off the sink and stooped down to clean up the mess. “You know what, Shanice? Nobody needs your shit right, now. So why don’t you just suck it up and go to school?”

  “Because,” Shanice said while bending down to help her sister, “you need my shit right now.”

  Tabitha’s hands trembled as she picked the egg shells up and threw them in the trash can. She stood up, leaned against the counter, and looked at her hands. “I’m scared.” She said barely over a whisper.

  “I know.” Shanice stood up and turned the flame down on the stove. She washed her hands and bumped Tabitha gently to the side with her hip.

  “Everything is happening so fast, Shani. It’s too fast. I mean, look, we’re not gangstas. Lisa’s not hard, she likes to act tough, but she’s not tough for real. I think we may be in over our heads.”

  “So what are you saying, Tabitha? We can’t back out; there isn’t anybody else that can pull this off.”

  “I’m not saying we should back out. I’m just saying that it’s all too much, and with the move and everything. I feel like I’m about to fall apart.” Tabitha got more eggs out of the refrigerator while Shanice put the bacon on. “Maybe I should tell Darren that we need to call this off, you know, wait a little while longer before we move in together.”

  Shanice cracked the eggs into a bowl and threw the shells in the trash. “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “You know what you’re doing.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t try to use this mess as an excuse not to move in with Darren. Y’all are getting married in six months.”

  Tabitha sighed. “I’m not saying that I’m calling off the wedding or anything. I’m just saying that maybe we should wait a while, you know, until everything calms down.”

  “And then you will find another excuse to put it off.”

  “I’m not looking for excuses.”

  “Hell if you’re not. You’ve been looking for excuses not to go through with this ever since Darren asked you to marry him. What the fuck are you afraid of?”

  “Him. I’m afraid of him.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? You don’t know what it’s like to live with a man. You don’t have a clue.”

  “I know he’s not Eric.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Shanice turned the burner off and faced her oldest sister. “He’s not Eric, Tabitha. He’s not going to hit you, or rape you, or leave you. He loves you and you don’t have to be afraid because he’s not Eric, and when you move with him you are not going to lose us.”

  “What if I do, huh? What if he doesn’t want y’all to come around?”

  “He is not Eric, Tabitha. And nobody can keep me and Lisa away from you.” She pulled Tabitha into a hug. “We are sisters and nobody can change that.”

  Tabitha squeezed Lisa tight and then pulled away. “You’re right, I’m being silly.” She wiped her eyes and flagged Shanice away from the stove. “Move over I’ll finish this.”

  “You sure?”

  “Hell yeah I’m sure. I don’t need those guys dying from food poisoning.”

  “I can cook my ass off.”

  “Now I know you’re crazy.”

  Shanice laughed. “It is going to be okay, you know, everything is going to work out.”

  “I hope you are right, Shani. I swear to God, I do.”

  Chapter 12

  Begonia woke up with a banging headache. She opened her eyes and immediately closed them, because the bright light felt like sharp needles being pushed into her sockets. The night’s events were fuzzy—there was a lot of talking, and a lot of crying, followed by a lot of drinking.

  “Morning, Sunshine!” Portia said too damn loudly as she walked in.

  “Shhhhhh,” Begonia tried to sit up, but fell back on the pillow holding her head and moaning.

  “Awwww, po’ baby,” Portia clicked the lights off and closed the blinds. She sat on the edge of bed, and shook her head. “You really are just a baby, you know?”

  Begonia stuck her middle finger up at Portia and tried to open her eyes again. Sweet, sweet darkness, she thought with a small smile. “Oh, thank you so much.”

  “You are welcome.” Portia pulled a pill bottle out of her pocketbook and poured two pills into the cap and handed them to Begonia.

 
; “What’s this?” she said before popping them into her mouth and looking around for water.

  Portia handed her a bottle of spring water from the nightstand. “It’s volume. You need to get some real sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours.” She got up and walked to the door.

  “Damn, bitch, what you got, a job interview?”

  Portia was dressed in a satin silver blouse and a black pencil skirt. “What the fuck, I look like I’m going to a job interview?” She smiled. “You know I work the missionary position. Naw, but really, I’m going to see the DA to call in a favor. It’s time to put our plan in motion. You may want to wash your ass because if everything goes like it’s supposed to, you will be meeting with his assistant tonight.”

  ***

  Richard Jamison clawed his way out of one of the worst hoods in West Philadelphia. The youngest of nine children, his mother liked to tell everyone that he came out last but ended up first. He was the first to graduate high school, and then college, first to own a car and then a home. Richard liked leading the pack. If there was an award, he would win it. If there was a record, he would break it. He learned early in life that everyone loved a winner, and so he decided to win everything.

  Point blank.

  The youngest district attorney in Philadelphia’s history, his record was nearly flawless—his conviction rates the highest in the state. They called him The Hammer because he showed no mercy. If you did the crime, Richard would not sleep until you did the time.

  Brushing imaginary lint off of his Armani suit, he checked his reflection in the elevator door before he reached his floor. He stood 6’6” and weighed 225lbs of pure muscle. Smooth caramel complexion, broad shoulders, and piercing dark brown eyes, Richard was so handsome that he made straight men stop and stare.

  He stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall nodding to his colleges. No one stopped him for idle chit-chat, because no one there particularly liked him very much. Richard didn’t give a shit. He didn’t plan to stay in the DA’s office very long. Bigger and better things awaited this brother and he knew it.

  Success was his only friend, and poverty was his only enemy.

  He opened the door to his office, took off his coat, hung it on the rack, and then almost shit on himself. Richard Jamison had one weakness and she was sitting in the corner of his office reading the Daily News.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Portia?”

  Portia folded her paper and tossed it on the floor. “Is that how you greet your friends, Ricky?”

  Richard peeked out of his office window, before closing the blinds, locking his door, and taking a seat at his desk. “You aren’t my friend, Portia. Now what do you want and what are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I’m your friend, baby. What was it you whispered in my ear the last time you came over my house? Oh yeah, you said I was the best friend you ever had.” Portia walked over to Richard and sat on his desk directly in front of him.

  “What are you playing at, Portia? What do you need, hush money?” Richard eyes slid up and down Portia’s profile. She might have dressed it up, but he knew that it was some Grade A hood-rat pussy beneath those fancy clothes. His dick got hard just remembering the way it felt to slide inside of her.

  “Aw, Ricky, Ricky, Ricky, you know I wouldn’t fuck you for all the money in the world. I will, however, fuck you for a favor.” She hiked her skirt up to her hips, sat on his desk and cocked her legs open.

  Richard shook his head and looked away, but he couldn’t stop his hand from grabbing his dick, or his breath from coming hot and heavy.

  Portia raised her left leg onto his lap and dug the heel of her pump into his thigh.

  Richard put his hand in his mouth to stop himself from hollering out in pure ecstasy. Sweat broke out on his brow as moans escaped out his mouth around his fist.

  Portia arched her eyebrow. “I see that none of the high-class bitches you screwing are giving it to you how you like it.” She flicked her other heel off and kicked him in his face hard. His head snapped back and his hand fell out of his mouth.

  “What do you want, Portia?”

  “I want to know if you tell all those pretty ladies you sport around town that you like it rough.” She grabbed his tie and wrapped it around his fist. “Huh, Richard? Do they know that you’re a wimpy little masochist? Stand up.”

  Richard stood up without protest. It had been a long time since he’d been with a sadist. He knew he needed to stop sleeping with call girls before word got out and his career went up in smoke.

  Portia unbuckled his pants and pulled his dick out. “Awww, Ricky, you really miss me, don’t you?” She spit on her free hand and slathered it up and down Richards’s shaft in swift motions, twisting and jerking the skin, causing ripples of pain and pleasure to shoot down his groin.

  Richard put his hands on his desk around Portia to brace himself. “What do you want, girl?”

  Portia slapped him so hard that his lip split open and blood dripped down on her blouse. “Did I say you could talk, Ricky?” She put the tip of his penis inside of her. Richard began to shiver.

  “Did I say it was okay for you to open your fucking mouth?” She dug her nails in his ass and pushed him all the way inside of her. “For right now, big boy, I need you to listen.” She tightened her walls against his swollen rod.

  “Jesus,” he breathed.

  “I’m going to let that one slide, playboy.” She said while loosening her hold on his ass. “Now let’s talk business,” she whispered as she arched her back and let him move in and out of her on his own accord.

  Portia’s voice came out husky and jagged as Richard delivered hard angry thrust. “I have a word on a bust that will place you quite comfortably in the mayor’s chair next election.”

  Richard wanted to ask her what she was talking about but it was hard to think of anything outside of how wet she was, and she had not yet granted him permission to speak.

  She placed her hands up on his chest to slow him down and lifted his chin so she could look him in the eye.

  “If you agree to help my friends, I will hand you the man that is responsible for providing every junky in North Philly with crack rock.” She placed her hands on his chest to slow his speed and then she raised his chin so that she could look him in the eye. She tightened and released her walls so that her pussy felt like it was sucking him off.

  Richard shivered

  “You have my permission to speak.”

  Richard’s breath came out in a rush. “I’m going to need more information.”

  “Is that a yes?” Portia asked as she unlocked her legs from around his waist and scooted away from him.

  He fell out of her with a growl. “Like I said, I need more information.”

  Portia took that as a yes. “Meet me at the Holiday Inn in one hour and I’ll give you all the information you need. Oh, and you might want to stop at a pharmacy for a first aid kit, because I intend to make you bleed!”

  Chapter 13

  Violet spent two days in her cell after her procedure. She thought that she would feel better after they took the baby.

  She was wrong.

  Her celly, Barbara, tried her best to comfort her. She braided her hair and held her when she cried. She smuggled her in rolls and juice boxes from the cafeteria, but she knew that her presence disturbed Violet, because she was so far into her own pregnancy, so she mostly stayed away.

  Violet felt as if she left a chunk of her own soul in that exam room. On the third day hunger pains forced her off of her bunk and out into the cafeteria. She picked up a tray and stood in line ignoring everyone and everything that went on around her. She had never felt so alone in her life and she didn’t understand why she was living at all. I never should have took his car, she thought. I should have took one of his guns out of the closet and swallowed a few bullets. Violet brought her tray to an empty corner and scarfed down the food. It all looked like shit, but she ate so fast that she didn’t taste a thing. Gagging sh
e braced her hands on the table and forced the rest of the food in her mouth down. Her eyes watered, but her throat cleared and she continued shoveling food down her mouth to sate her hunger like she never choked.

  Officer Mike walked over to her. “You know, that plate of food wasn’t threatening to run away, was it?”

  Violet didn’t even look at him. She gulped down her glass of water, grabbed her tray, cleaned it off and dumped it on the counter.

  Mike watched her for a second before following after her. “Violet, I need to talk to you.”

  “About what?” Violet asked as she continued down the hall toward the yard.

  Brandi walked past Mike and waved Violet back. “Come on, girl, you have a visitor.”

  Violet’s heart leaped as Begonia sprung to her mind. She’s here; I can’t believe she’s here. Violet almost ran over to Brandi and Mike. Her heart did the jitterbug in her chest. She shook her hands nervously as she followed behind the two guards. Oh my God, what am I going to say to her? What is she going to say to me? The switch was visible. Violet’s brief moments of joy and excitement for seeing her sister morphed into terror at what her sister was there to say. Her palms begin to sweat and her hearts jitterbug turned into a jackhammer beating against her rib cage.

  Mike walked past the place designated for visits. When Violet gave him a confused look, he just shrugged and motioned for her to continue following him.

  They led her to a small room that looked like the interrogation room used on the TV show “Law and Order.” Three white men dressed in black suites sat at a small rectangular table that sat in the middle of the room. The men varied in size and age, but they all seemed scary as hell to Violet. She tried to back out of the room and ran smack-dab into Mike’s chest. She turned around to face him.

  “Who are these guys and what do they want with me?”

  “They want to talk to you.”

  Violet looked at Brandi and she nodded her head in agreement. “Well, I don’t want to talk to them. Let me go back to my cell.”