“Here,” he said, holding the gift towards her, like an offering. “I made it for you. Hope you like it.”
She hastily tore at the paper. He had given her the only thing that he possessed. The small gift of glass was just the right encouragement she needed. She felt a twinge of jealously for the woman who had risked everything to love him.
“You touch me,” she said placing the gift on the table. The moment was awkward because Sydney knew she was going to make something happen. It made her tingle. The expectation caused a sensation she hadn’t felt and the anticipation of something new was enticing.
She tenderly kissed him with her eyes open, then again eagerly. Sydney felt his desire, he wanted it. She watched him, tasting his mouth completely this time. He caressed her head and neck with gentleness, laid her back and removed her blouse. Her chest heaved as he found his way down her torso, stopping to nibble at her breasts, her belly, then going further finding her center and treating it like a toy chest. She let him take her on the soiled couch that smelled of beer and cheap cigars.
A small price to pay for success, she hardly noticed the springs digging into her back. It amused her that when he climaxed a shiver ran across his body. He held her close when it subsided, as though afraid to let go.
“I knew you were good,” she sighed.
Sydney seduced him on the couch and her plan was in effect. While they lay there breathing, she thought of all the ways she could ride him. Love or sex was not her care, only money and the insane accrual of it.
It didn’t take long for Aurie to make good on her investment. She poured her heart into his career, becoming his exclusive voice to the masses and taking on the burden of managing his swelling fortune. She encouraged him and convinced him that it was all for love; his love of art, her love of him.
The Yuppies had a weakness for him and Black folks thought he was the voice of the broken. He was the perfect mascot. It became easier for her to want him, knowing that everyone wanted a piece of him and she had him turned her on. Aurie was ever grateful. He allowed her to fix his teeth, his hair now combed and braided in wonderfully precise lines that reminded her of perfect rows of corn when she rubbed his head. He was ravenous with her body. She let him take her every kinky way possible. He wanted to fuck with the lights on, wanted her to take it from behind, and any other hole where he could fit. She just groaned with satisfaction, thinking only of the things he brought her.
Sydney supposed that they were both happy with the arrangement. She was surprised to see him one afternoon, walking casually with another woman’s hand clinging to his. She watched them, stalked them. Sydney saw that the eyes of the woman were intent on Aurie as though she possessed him.
She had remarkable control when it came to revenge. Sydney watched with a cold, detached vision of her world unraveling like a cheap sweater. She looked at every inch of the woman. Noticed her hair, her nails, her clothes, she and the woman were nothing alike. She watched Aurie kissing the new woman, like he had kissed her. She wondered where else he had kissed the woman.
Sydney was amazed at how furtive she could be. If she were not in the situation herself, she may have gloated in the sheer genius of her efforts. Before entering Aurie’s house a voice should’ve gone off in her head. She had long since turned off the part of her brain that listened to reason. Aurie left the woman alone in the house.
She had sneaked to a local locksmith and had made a copy of his keys since he had first bought his new home in Buckhead.
When Sydney had first seen the woman with Aurie, she felt rage and hatred of an angry wife. She had only been with him for the fortune, but had been good to him. Sydney passed through the kitchen and into the great room, she smirked thinking that the dumb bitch hadn’t even set the alarm. Probably didn’t know the code. She heard the TV upstairs and followed the sound.
Whatever courage she lacked when she walked up the stairs, she found as she turned the corner to the master suite. Sydney saw the woman lying casually across her man’s bed.
“Who the fuck are you?” She asked trying to remain calm.
“I know you,” the woman said. “Why are you here?”
The pistol came out then. Sydney pulled it from under her shirt. The very thing she had sworn she wouldn’t use. She meant to scare the little man-stealing whore. For a moment, she thought that a divine presence would intervene and stop her from doing the crazy-ass white slut. Sydney held the trigger a few seconds longer in anticipation of God Almighty stepping into the bedroom where she had passionately called His name. Her eyes twitched and she licked her lips just before she squeezed. Only one shot, no, bitch was going to take what was hers.
“I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my fucking mind.”
The horror on the woman’s face pleased Sydney, yet she felt numb. There was no remorse. Something unexpected happened then. The tables turned and all of her calculations on his life had not factored in this moment. Aurie walked in.
“Hello Sydney. Ya know, when I met you, I knew thar was something ‘bout you. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Then I had it, most niggas wish they had my passion. Wish they could feel it for something, anything. You wanted it everyday of yo’ boring ass life. You put on yer suits to feel powerful and real. You see all this round you. This my shit! I made this. I made you! You use people; that’s the only way you can git what you want. So you should really appreciate this… This here is my fiancée, Melinda.”
Sydney’s eyes went from Aurie to the bitch and back to Aurie. Pity, she had only had one round left.
“Son of a Bitch,” she whispered.
Aurie saw when she walked to the house. He remembered it because it was the day before the 4th of July and the kids were running crazy in the streets. Shit, he had seen the wide body Benz coming down the block and had known it was her. He smelled her perfume as she sidled toward him from the car in her Armani suit and cubic zirconium bling. He glanced at her and saw her eyes watching him, sizing him up. She had an attitude that he wanted to conquer and he knew one thing, he would have her. That art shit was just icing on the cake.
greed
Kiniesha Gayle
Prologue
CLING!
The sound of iron bars could be heard slamming throughout the prison. Once I was inside my cell, the handcuffs and shackles were taken off. I gently rubbed my wrist and glanced around the dank, lonely cell. The reality that I was about to die finally kicked in. I made my way over to the iron bed with a thin mattress and grey blanket. Leaning against the cold wall, I sat with my knees to my chest.
If only I could turn back the hands of time, I thought and rolled my eyes to the ceiling. Officer Gamby, a slender man with straight black hair, pulled up a chair next to my cell. Our eyes made contact. His eyes told a story that was surely impossible to figure out in the next twenty-four hours.
June nineteenth was the day I was sentenced to die by lethal injection. My life slowly replayed before my watery eyes. I was crying, something I hadn’t done many years now. The judge or lawyers didn’t see my tears. Here as I let it flow, Officer Gamby saw my tears.
“Are you alright?” he asked passing me tissues.
I took them, paused and a chuckle escaped my lip.
“If I did the crime, the fact that I didn’t do it doesn’t make me feel so good. I was framed by a system that was supposed to protect me.”
“That’s kinda hard to prove.”
He walked back over to where he was seated before continuing.
“If I could get a dollar for each time an inmate on death row states that they’re innocent, I’ll be a rich man by now.”
I got up off the bed, walked over to the steel bars next to Officer Gamby.
“There’s a difference between me and them, I’m telling the truth,” I said staring at him.
“If you say so,” he said nonchalantly and crossed his leg.
Summer 94
My heart pounded as I quickly made my way through Philadelphia’s
Penn Station. I checked the ticket. The train to New York City was leaving in forty-five minutes. I looked around trying to be inconspicuous. The more I stood around the more nervous I became.
I pulled the brim of my Stetson down and headed for the coffee shop. My eyes searched the area for any hint of the police following me.
I can’t wait to get to New York and escape all this madness, I thought sipping the java brew. The Louis Vuitton traveling bag which contained the money was tucked under my arm.
I sat down in a corner where no one could see me. That seating allowed me to see everything in view. I even watched television to catch up on the latest news.
Commuters quickly crowded the station’s platform. Silently, I watched them scramble to get to work. My thoughts were put on full blast when I heard the news on the radio.
…In other news headline: Police are still trying to find the killer of millionaire tycoon Nick Riggs. Mr. Riggs was found dead in his Philadelphia mansion late last night. Police have no lead, and Mr. Riggs’s wife is missing…
“Aw fuck!” I muttered under my breath. The hot coffee splashed on my thigh as I hurriedly grabbed my bag and headed for the exit. I heard the announcement.
“10:30 Train to New York City now boarding at gate 10...”
I quickly made my way to the gate and handed the conductor my ticket.
“Do you have any ID?” A short, stocky man with white beard asked.
“ID?” I questioned.
“Yes, for security reasons.”
I wanted to curse his white ass out, but instead I held my composure and handed him my ID. The clerk scrutinized it, looked up at me, and began to pull out his radio.
Oh shit! I must get out of here. I’m going to jail. I can’t go to jail. Sweat poured down my back as I began to panic.
“Is there a problem?” I asked trying to sound calm.
“No, not all. I was just admiring your beauty.”
My insides boiled with rage. I grabbed my ID and went down the steps to board the train. I found my seat, placed the bag in the corner next to me and placed my feet on it. I reached for my CD player and allowed Whitney Houston to seep into my ears. A sigh of relief escaped before I closed my eyes for the two hour train ride.
1986
“C’mon, you’re making us late,” father yelled.
“Be safe, and remember I love you.”
Mother kissed me on the cheek. This was the last time she would see me. Tears rolled down her face and my ten year old face. The thought of leaving her for good was overwhelming to both of us. My father, whom I only saw once before this, convinced my mother that America would be better for me. Mother was poor and agreed. She promised to join me later.
“Listen there’s no time for this fucking shit.” Father was irritated.
“You’re taking my only daughter from me,” my mother said.
“No, please don’t let me go mama.” I screamed as he lifted me up and threw me in the car. Tears rolling, I looked at my mother who knelt in the dirt crying her heart out. There was confusion in my mind. I couldn’t understand why my father didn’t take mother with us.
The journey to Norman Manley International Airport in Kingston, Jamaica got off to a bumpy start. I leaned my head on the back of the seat and cried myself to sleep.
I was later awakened by the sound of the flight attendant stating that we needed to fasten our seatbelts. Father sat next to me. Not once did we exchange words.
Four and half hours later the flight landed at JFK airport. A slight delay through customs and we were on our way to Creston Avenue in the Bronx.
There was graffiti all over the building. People were outside listening and dancing to the loud music of rap.
My mouth fell open and my eyes bugged out when we went into his apartment. Mother’s home in Jamaica was small and very well kept. Here in New York, I saw dirty clothes on the floor and dirty dishes on the dining table. Flies were everywhere and there was this horrible stench.
“Is this where we’re going to live?’ I asked trying to hold my breath.
“Yes, get comfortable.” His tone was nastier than before.
There was a dark skin lady with short hair and big gold earrings in her ears lying across an unmade bed. My father walked over to her and kissed her. I sat on a chair in the hallway as questions bombarded my mind.
“Hi Nicole, I’m Lisa. Your father’s told me all about you.”
Her smile left me wondering about health plans and dental services. She appeared frail and unhealthy. I smiled without opening my mouth and walked away.
Last day of class
The school bell rang ending the school year. Going to school was the best part of my life. It offered a chance to escape the madness surrounding me. My father’s girlfriend was seriously working on my last nerves. We were living in the middle of the crack epidemic. I knew that the bitch was using crack. I couldn’t understand what father saw in her.
Since arriving, I hadn’t spoken to mother. I wrote to her twice weekly. Approaching the building, I spotted the EMS carrying someone out on a stretcher covered in a black bag. It was none of my business but I stared for a second then continued upstairs. My main focus was to get a good job and go live on my own. At the entrance to my apartment, I saw a police officer, and there were people taking photos. I saw my father sitting down on a chair looking the worse I’ve seen him. A bottle of Gin sat open on the table.
“What’s wrong?” I asked walking to him. Never had I shown love to him, but something in his eyes told me he needed it. I rubbed his shoulder.
“Lisa’s dead,” he stated before letting out a loud cry.
“How, what happened?” I asked.
He turned his head and stared.
“Go in the living room.”
It wasn’t a good time to challenge him. I obeyed and took a seat in the living room. I turned on the TV.
Days turned into weeks and father wasn’t getting any better. He would stroll in late at night smelling like alcohol and funk. He started sleeping days and missing work. The bills began piling up.
“Nicole,” he called from his bedroom. Sweat poured off his body. He was standing in his underpants. My father had lost a lot of weight.
“I need you to be dressed early tomorrow morning. I need help around here with the bills. I spoke with my boss and he said you can come to work.”
“What about school?” I protested.
“That’ll have to be put on hold. Classes don’t put food on the table or clothing on your back. The bills need to be paid, and you need to get a job to help around here.”
“Yes sir,” I walked away hissing.
The next day I was on my way to Scarsdale N.Y. to work with the Riggs family.
Torture
“Take this dick.” Mr. Riggs grunted thrusting in and out of me.
He was sweating like there was no tomorrow. My legs were upright in the air and tears were flowing. I closed my eyes wondering why my father sold me into this. Two years ago he died from an overdose of crack. He also had the virus.
After his death, I had nowhere to go. The Riggs’ decided to take me in. I sure did pay a hell of a price to live there. Four nights a week Mr. Riggs would be fucking the shit out of me. He took my virginity and got me pregnant three times. I was forced to have an abortion each time. This time I outsmarted him. I was given birth control pills by the clinic and ever since then I’ve been on them. Mr. Riggs body shook and I knew he was about to ejaculate.
When he was finished, he got up, wiped his little, pink, limp-dick. Told me he would see me in another two nights and crept back to bed with his wife.
I’d cry after he left my room. I had no one to console me or understand what I was going through. There was a knock on the door.
“Are you okay?” Mr. Riggs’ son opened the door and came in.
“Yeah,” I said wiping my eyes.
“Okay either you’re a good actress or you lying. Because no one cries so much until their pi
llow’s soaked.” He reached over and felt my pillow.
A smile creased my lips, something I hadn’t done in a long time.
“Are you going to talk to me?” He asked.
“I’m sad and I’ve got no one to talk to.”
I didn’t get into too much detail because some things were best kept in the dark.
Time went on and we became extremely close. Two years later Nick Riggs moved out and took me along with him. Neither his father nor mother was pleased. They threatened to disown him if he left with me. We did and continued on with our relationship.
“I still don’t get how you ended up on death row?” Officer Gamby asked interrupting my story.
“I’m almost there.” I said cutting him off.
Nick had just received a promotion and became president for the advertisement firm where he worked. The promotion required that we relocate. We decided to splurge and buy a two-million dollar house in Pennsylvania. Nick and I were all set to withdraw four million dollars from the bank. Two million was for the home another million for decorations. The other mill was for starting my own fashion business. With all this money coming from his account, word got back to the older Riggs. I remembered the day before picking up the money I got a telephone call from Nick.
“You lying bitch, how could you?” he yelled through the phone.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You slept with my father and got pregnant by him three times, and then had three different abortions?” His anger seeped.
“I’m sorry. Let me explain.” I began crying.
“It’s a little too late, honey. I want you out of my house before I return in the next two days. I’ll be removing your name from the bank accounts and life insurance.”
“So Nick took out a life insurance policy with your name on it?” Gamby once again interrupted as he now sat upright to get the rest of the story. “How much was it worth?” He leaned closer to the bars.
Lipstick Diaries Page 13
