“I wouldn’t take you anywhere else,” he answered.
And I balked. When did my baby sister end up with more game than me?
With that we all said a silent prayer as Quinn led us in the direction of his car. Hopefully it was still in one piece. And if it was, hopefully there weren’t any pieces of anything on top of it.
“Bad fruit begets bad seeds,” Derian called out after us.
I glanced back at him on the ground with his cell phone pressed to his head.
“Yeah Eva, Deac gonna love hearing how you just following right along in Ava’s footsteps.” Derian called after us. “Hey Deacon, sorry to interrupt you during service . . .”
I clenched my teeth against the pain in my head that was already heavy from the weight of failure pressing down on me. If it wasn’t for him we’d be on our train to a new life. Now, we were stuck on a crash-course with the devil himself.
Chapter 3
Deacon’s and Demons Run my Life
I un-did my seatbelt and sat staring out the window at the house that was both a prison and palace. Service normally ended around four-thirty. The bright white numbers on the dashboard of Quinn’s Audi were yelling at me, saying I had a half an hour to come up with an exit strategy. He still didn’t have a real idea of what I was running from, or that I was even running. Our conversation was catered more to Leslie, which was fine by me. There were too many things buzzing around in my head, all I could do was make polite conversation.
It’d started drizzling earlier while we ate and hadn’t stopped. The only reason Leslie wasn’t talking our ears off was because she’d dozed off. She talked a hole in Quinn’s head after asking for restaurant food and then begging to go to the Pizza Hut buffet. It didn’t matter one way or the other to me, my appetite was shot from the moment three-thousand dollars slipped through my fingers.
“Never would have expected to see a water spout and a tornado in one day. Kind of like a life altering experience,” Quinn started saying. He was giving me that after-school special look. The kind of look the coach or counselor has just before they tell you to keep straight and push ahead. He leaned his head back against the headrest while he sorted out whatever he was trying to say. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Back there at Pizza Hut you said something about going to Norfolk State. Well what if–”
The door was yanked open, I was snatched out the car before I could even hear what the “if” was. Deacon’s first connected with all the impact of a cannon ball hitting me in the face. My head snapped to the side, blood went pulsing back towards my eye and poured from my nose at full strength. Momma Rose’s voice combined with Leslie shrieking was all just a bunch of squawking over the ringing in my ears. I could feel my knees going out of service and I braced myself. I could feel myself falling but, Deacon’s hand around my neck kept me from hitting the ground. If my eye wasn’t black yet it was slowly getting there. His fist went up again and I willed myself to pass out.
Quinn stepped between me and Deacon. He was so close Deacon’s arm was almost resting on his shoulder.
“Every punch you land is about to come right back to you times a thousand old man. I been on an ass-whoopin’ spree today,” Quinn growled.
Deacon’s fingers tightened around my throat in a quick warning squeeze before he let go. Maybe he figured out Quinn was the same guy that put Derian on his ass earlier. Quinn pushed me out of the way as Momma Rose rushed over in a flurry of apologies with her fingers going all over my sore face.
“I’m sorry Eva. Why would you do something like this? You know how he gets,” Momma Rose cooed at me with her eyes full of worry. “Sue! Sue, take the baby in the house and get me some ice ready for Eva.”
I watched Deacon and Quinn over Momma Rose’s shoulder. The words police, and child protective services floated towards me over the sound of Leslie whining about being called a baby. She immediately launched into telling Sue how we’d just gone on our first date with a man, her sickness long forgotten.
Momma Rose cupped my cheeks with onion and lemon dish soap scented fingers saying whatever grown folk say to make you feel special after you get hit like you’re nothing. I didn’t listen. I stared at the space just above her eyes at the reddish-brown frame surrounding her face. Her foundation was about two shades lighter than the rest of her and her eyes were all done up with silver and blue eye shadow. That was her look.
“We talked and sometimes I just let that old fool have his way so I can go about my business in peace. But I can’t let this one go and he isn’t hearing a thing I say.”
I squinted at Momma Rose, trying to understand what she was saying or apologizing for. Her whole demeanor was off.
“Deacon only offered you in the choosing to get you out of the house before I found out you were his.”
One by one my muscles locked into place. I tensed up as flashes of my choosing and then Ava’s dinner flashed across my mind. It’s a damn shame we can’t delete memories. If there was a way to get a sorbet spoon and just dig those memories out I would.
Momma Rose went on, “Deac has decided to keep Leslie for himself. I’m not sure when he plans to have her ceremony but his mind is all but made up.” Her voice cracked.
I clenched my hands into fists so tight my knuckles cracked. Heat rushed up my neck flooding my cheeks and exploding behind my eyelids in bright red flashes of pain and hatred.
“Don’t do it Eva,” Momma Rose whispered her warning. “He controls too many people who will turn their eyes and call you a runaway if he decides to put you back in that box. Just do what me and your momma didn’t. Go to school and be smart enough to know when you should and shouldn’t fight. Leslie will be fine.”
Quinn had started walking toward us. His face was just as stormy if not more so than mine. It didn’t take Momma Rose but a half a glance in Deacon’s direction before she dropped her eyes to the ground and bustled over to patch up his ego.
All the air deflated from my chest as I leaned back against Quinn’s car.
“You over here lookin’ like someone just robbed you of your favorite puppy,” Quinn said with a smile before leaning on the car beside me. He nodded in Deacon’s direction. “So, I got that nigga to see things my way. He knows not to lay a hand on you or I’ll come for him when it’s nice and dark and he can’t identify me to the cops.”
A weak smile was the best I could do. It wasn’t me that Deacon wanted to put his hands on. It was Leslie.
“Oh and I don’t think he liked hearing how I was the volunteer EMT who rode with your mother from the jail to the asylum after her sentencing. Before she was sedated, she kept saying, Deacons and demons run my life, three lost father’s three lost daughters, over and over.”
My head was about to explode from T.M.I., too much information overload. Why did everything have to revolve around this Deacon and the invisible chain he’d managed to wrap around my life? It didn’t surprise me at all, knowing he just used Ava. His finger pulled the trigger in the bathroom all those years ago. If he didn’t care about the baby Ava was carrying when he shot her, I know he wouldn’t give a damn about Leslie even if she end up being his third wife.
Quinn put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into his side, wishing I could absorb some of his heat and strength.
“It’ll be fine. You sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” Quinn asked.
I slowly shook my head to keep my brain from banging around and making things hurt even more.
“We’ll figure this out and in the mean time you’ve got me. By the way, I teach a course on campus, sign up for it and I’ll make sure you’re good. And call me Que.”
Chapter 4
Like Sugar for Candy
May
A storm was coming. Battleship-gray clouds churned into a dark unified wall outside the office window. Nothing about spring or summer rains appealed to me, not the damp muddy smell in the air or the way the clouds hovered over the buildings like a scene right out of Ghostbusters. The f
ew pigeons flying around that were brave or too stupid to find cover fought against the wind like tiny black kites. It brought back memories from the day Ava dragged us into her insanity. From my experience storms never brought in anything good.
“Eva?”
I jerked my attention away from the window back to Mrs. Porter, the assistant dean, who was busy studying me through the haze of her hazel contacts.
So much for keeping my head out of the clouds. The only time someone got called into the assistant dean’s office was for an award or an accusation and I wasn’t too thrilled about finding out which one I was up for. I had been trying not to fidget while politely waiting for her to finish looking over my file. It must have been written in Latin based on how long it’d taken her to read over it. During that time I’d absentmindedly folded into myself in the chair across from her. My ankles were crossed and my legs were as far back under the chair as I could get them. A fake smile stretched the corners of her bright red lips upward as she propped her elbows up on the arms of her chair and began tapping her steepled fingers together. Mrs. Porter brought to mind all the well-to-do women I saw in church, which automatically put her on my “phony fake” list. I’d seen too many women smile that same smile all up in Momma Rose’s face only to hear about them trying to talk “privately” in Deacon’s office later. Those heffa’s had no idea he told Momma Rose everything. Momma Rose and Deacon had no idea I could hear everything they said through the vent in my bedroom floor.
“Eva, I know this is a sensitive subject.” Mrs. Porter leaned forward giving her best “fake care” face. “Most freshmen have the misconception that dating a professor will help them get ahead, but that is not the case. I don’t want you to feel pressured but is there anything you would like to tell me about any of your professors?”
My heart did a swan dive into my toes. Granted yes, I’d been secretly seeing Que who was now my political science professor, but we were always careful. I still had Deacon and his “no men outside of the church” policy and the fact that messing up on my part meant a rushed ceremony with Leslie on his part. He’d been letting it hang over my head until the situation was darker than the clouds outside the window. The last thing I needed was to have mine and Leslie’s situation jacked up by someone who complained because they got a lower grade point average than they thought they deserved.
Leaning forward I looked at her with real concern on my face. “No, ma’am. Why, is one of my professors some kind of pervy serial student humper?”
She pursued her lips together looking down at the papers on her desk before answering. “No, Eva, but if there’s anything you’d like to tell me about any of your professors please don’t hesitate. Your family’s church goes way back with Norfolk State and they make generous donations to our programs.” She paused and her massive Reebok Pump orange bosom expanded, straining against the buttons on her suit jacket. “Programs that pay scholarships such as yours. Needless to say it’s imperative that you and I work together to ensure your collegiate career stays its course. That will be all if you don’t have anything to add.”
With that I gave her a quick nod and skirted myself on up out of there before she popped or started in with more questions. I couldn’t make it through my first year without any drama? Bad enough I get stuck living at home instead of on campus. Get on the ball, girl, you’ve got to get on the ball.
My brain was telling me to get to my next class so I wouldn’t get caught in the rain but I’d been ignoring my brain a lot lately. Skipping Mr. Jiel’s review in statistics right before our big exam was about to be number two on my list of dumbest decisions ever. The number one spot couldn’t even go to me whipping out my phone and texting Que to meet me ASAP.
When I left the house that morning, it was sunny and almost seventy. Now the wind had picked up bringing an unseasonal chill; it was whipping the mess out of my 1b shoulder-length curls. I’d meticulously placed every curl so they framed my naturally round face perfectly. I didn’t grab an umbrella or a hoodie, and instantly regretted leaving the house in nothing more than a fitted V-neck T-shirt. It was the one Deacon hated with the word JUICY across the back in big pink letters. A mischievous grin spread across my face as I hiked across campus toward my car, thankful that I’d at least worn jeans.
My little champagne-brown beater Protégé was the first grownup thing I could feel proud of. Deacon had no choice but agree when I said I was getting myself a car. He didn’t have the time to shuttle me back and forth between classes. Leslie and I would be out of here as soon as I could save up enough. No more stealing. Some poor guy named Morris got blamed for all the money I’d taken. Deacon even pressed charges and everything without seeing him do it. All because he had low friends in high places.
I hoisted my backpack over into the passenger seat and prayed the window wouldn’t fall like it was prone to do.
“I’ve got one hour. Get in,” Que called out from his car behind me.
I whirled around at the sound of his voice, uncertainty making me hesitate for a half of a breath before getting in. Everyone was in class so the street was virtually empty. His voice still made me feel like the day of that freak tornado. Like there were spiders crawling all over themselves inside my stomach. I settled into the passenger seat happy that the seat warmer was on. He always did thoughtful things like that.
Que treated his car like a baby and although he’d given me enough to buy a nicer ride I settled on the Mazda, saving the rest for the day Leslie and I could officially jump ship. There was never a speck of dust or so much as a receipt lying around inside of his platinum-silver Infiniti. Not even ash or the minty tobacco odor lingered from the long brown Nat Sherman cigarettes he smoked every blue moon.
“Did you wake up with me this morning?” He licked his lips, locking me into his hypnotic brown gaze. He always asked that same question whenever we saw each other and it always had the same effect on my senses. My skin tingled and my pulse would stutter in my chest. Breathless, I leaned across the armrest lightly brushing my heart-shaped lips to his. He pressed forward like a starving wolf, parting my lips and our tongues made frenzied circles around each other. The prickling from his goatee against my face combined with the leathery roughness of his firm lips made my panties wet. As if he could read my thoughts he broke away and started eying me up and down.
“I wanna taste you. Take your pants off.” He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His words made me hotter than steam.
I shook my head. “Um, no, sir, not here. And we have to talk. I got called into the assistant dean’s office and she didn’t exactly say your name or how she knows but—”
“Shhh. Pants off,” Que ordered while putting the car in drive.
I gave him one last eye-popping glance before obliging. My fingers were shaking so bad I had to bite my bottom lip just so I could focus. I didn’t even bother untying my DCs and slipped them off my feet.
He wasn’t the handsomest man in the world and he for damn sure wasn’t the most articulate, but how many science nerdy types were? At five foot one, Professor Quinn, or Que as I called him, was shorter than me by a good inch. He had a rough, gravelly voice, bushy eyebrows, he could beat anyone’s ass and his sex game was insane. Not in an Ava kind of insane but in a good way, if that made sense.
Most women probably took one look and went in the other direction when they saw his splotchy beetle-brown skin scarred from years of not eating right and battling bad acne. He actually brought to mind one of those short stocky beetles that fly into everything at night. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t in the best of shape either. None of my friends knew about him and I sure as day wasn’t trying to let the school or my church find out. If anyone ever asked what or why I was even doing this fool in the first place I could try to explain all day but they wouldn’t understand.
Que would strut into the lecture hall in wrinkled blazers with worn-out elbow patches. He dressed like work attire meant rolling out of bed, grabbing something off his floo
r, and splashing coffee in a cup. His facial hair was always grizzled and unkempt but confidence surrounded him like a force field. That confidence, combined with the goose bump–inducing gleam in his eyes, was what made me accept his invitation to lunch the first time he asked and I was glad I did.
He started flipping through radio stations before giving up and switching to his favorite custom mix in the CD changer. I wiggled my bottom out of my jeans taking the time fold them neatly to hide my nervousness. We parked on the top level of a parking garage off Bank Street. It was hard for me to get out at night since I involuntarily volunteered at church most evenings and worked in the church bookstore on others. Que had gotten good at finding places outside of hotels close to campus for us to play.
Usher serenaded us: “Can you handle it can if I go there, baby, with you.”
The lyrics hit me dead center. At some point I’d gotten tired of hearing all my girl’s dicktales and sexcapades. Deacon would kill me and Momma Rose would pray for Jesus to raise me up so she could kill me all over again, if either of them found out I was dealing with someone outside of the church. I wanted my first to be my decision not theirs. They’d agreed not to make me do another Choosing Ceremony; I thought they were more afraid of Ava breaking out of her asylum if she got word. Ever since October we’d managed to sneak away at least three times a month. Every time he taught me something new or did something completely unexpected I could feel myself slipping into love.
I climbed into the back seat expecting him to follow when he shook his head at me. “Get on your knees facing the back window and slide your panties down.”
Since the upper level was outside I was beyond thankful for the dark window tint. Thunder roared across the sky rattling the car. The air hummed silently in its wake before fat droplets of rain came hissing down. There was the familiar crackling of a wrapper being torn as I slid my panties off and assumed the position. Good thing I’m already wet. My breath got caught somewhere between my throat and my lungs. My nails dug into the black leather seats like we were going a hundred miles an hour and I was holding on for life.
Church Girl Gone Wild Page 5
