Back to Me

by Earl Sewell

  “How did you ever find this place?” I asked, noticing a nearby concession stand that sold refreshments and fishing gear.

  “When I was young, my uncle used to bring me here to go fishing. Just beyond those trees over there is where the fishing is pretty good.” Carlo pointed to the area he was speaking fondly of.

  “I’ve never been fishing in my life,” I said, and the image of placing a worm on a hook made my skin crawl.

  “You should try it. It’s lots of fun,” Carlo replied.

  “Oh, no, you’ve got the wrong girl if you’re looking for someone to go fishing with,” I said as I walked toward the pier.

  “I’m going to go rent a paddleboat,” Carlo uttered as he headed toward a nearby rental stand.

  When I got to the pier, I placed my hand on the wooden rail just as a warm summer breeze caressed my skin.

  “It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” Carlo approached me from behind and pressed his chest against my back. I should’ve stepped away, but I didn’t. Carlo pulled my hair away from my neck and boldly placed sweet kisses on my neck, near the back of my ear. My body tingled at his touch. It was all too easy to get caught up in the rapture of the moment.

  “You should give me a chance, Maya. I’d never hurt you or mistreat you,” Carlo said earnestly.

  “I know. I don’t think you would, at least not on purpose,” I admitted, trying my best not to completely surrender to him.

  Carlo moved to the other side of my neck and kissed me more. He then gently tugged on my shoulder so that I’d turn around and face him. He placed his index finger under my chin and lifted it up. He gazed into my eyes, caressed my cheek and said, “You have very soft skin.”

  “Thank you,” I answered as he leaned in to kiss me. I closed my eyes, and the moment my lips met his, I felt a tingling sensation rush through my body. “Wow! We’d better slow down,” I said, placing the palm of my hand on his chest.

  “Sure. Come on. Let’s go out on the water.” Carlo took my hand and led me down to the dock where the paddleboats were. Carlo and I got on, positioned ourselves, and with a little skillful maneuvering, we guided the boat toward the horizon.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” Carlo asked.

  “Sure,” I said, not giving his question much thought.

  “The photos you took for Misalo… Why did he disrespect you and forward them to so many people? I’m sure by now you know they’ve gone viral.”

  “Why did you bring that up? Have you seen them, too?” I was embarrassed and lowered my head to mask my humiliation.

  Somberly, Carlo said, “Yes. I saw them. I thought they were hot, along with every guy in the neighborhood, I’m sure.” Carlo reached over and held my hand. “It’s okay. If anyone ever gives you a hard time or teases you about it, you let me know and I’ll deal with them.”

  “How, Carlo? There is nothing that can be done at this point.” I sighed, wishing I’d never taken the photos.

  “I’ll make them shut up and leave you alone.” Carlo cracked his knuckles. “If they don’t, I’ll make them. Just like I’m going to make Misalo sorry that he ever disrespected you and me.”

  Rubbing my temples in an effort to prevent a migraine headache from forming, I asked, “What are you talking about, Carlo?”

  “When I see that chump again, I’m going to beat him down.” Carlo’s words horrified me.

  “But why?” I asked, completely dismayed as I looked up at him.

  “Well, for starters we have a score to settle. Because of him, I lost my job. You saw how he started the fight that day at the mall. Then I want to beat him down for ruining your reputation. I hear guys talking all the time about how they’d love to do stuff with you and to you. They think you’re a slutty girl, but I know that’s not true.” Carlo wanted to display nobility and defend my honor, name and reputation. I admired him for wanting to be my hero, but I didn’t want him to hurt Misalo.

  “Can’t you just let all of that go?” I asked, hoping he could find it in his heart to move on.

  “No, Maya. Misalo has gone too far and he’s going to pay, one way or another.” I noticed that Carlo’s eyes were ablaze with contempt and hatred for Misalo.

  I suddenly didn’t want to be out on the lake with Carlo. All I wanted was to go back home, call Keysha and figure out what I should do.

  Fifteen

  VIVIANA

  Now that Misalo and I were an item, I desperately wanted to look prettier and be better than Maya. If the idea of comparing the two of us ever crossed Misalo’s mind in any way, I wanted to make sure I was clearly the better choice. I wanted my hair to look better, my skin to feel softer and my body to be shapelier. I never wanted him to second-guess anything when thoughts of me ran across his mind. Whenever he daydreamed about me, I wanted him to be able to remember the scent of my skin and the silky feel of my hair against his cheeks. I wanted Misalo to be totally into me, and I planned to do whatever it took to make sure he never wanted to be with another girl.

  I would always keep it real with Misalo and never act like a helpless princess who needed to be rescued. I would be the type of girl who knew how to be a lady but could flip the script by pulling off my shoes, tying up my hair and throwing down if the situation called for it.

  In order to make my dream a reality, I needed money so that I could buy clothes, accessories and whatever else I would need to keep Misalo’s attention focused on me. Since I didn’t have a job and was too embarrassed to just flat out ask my aunt Raven to overhaul my wardrobe, not that she wouldn’t, I just preferred to do things on my own. The only option I was left with was to use my pickpocketing skills to get money and credit cards to finance my endeavor.

  I tried to remember everything that I’d learned from Toya Taylor, a girl who was once my friend and who’d taught me a lot about pickpocketing. I gathered a few things I’d need to help me conceal the items that I’d end up taking from unsuspecting strangers and headed for the front door. My plan was to hang out at the mall, find some easy targets, make my move and max out any live credit card that fell into my possession. Just as I was about to walk out of the house, my uncle Herman caught me.

  “Hey, Viviana,” he said, walking toward me, carrying a laundry basket filled with clothes.

  “Hey,” I answered back, not wanting to get into a long conversation with him.

  “Do you want to tell me where you’re headed?” he asked.

  I wanted to say, “What are you, a freaking detective now?” but I knew a response like that would land me in hot water.

  I gave him a vague answer. “Just out.”

  He questioned me like he’d never done before. “What do you mean just out? Out where?” He set the basket of laundry down, stood with his feet shoulder width apart and folded his arms across his chest. Uncle Herman was wearing blue jeans and a black tank top. Although his stomach looked rather bloated today, his arms were muscular and strong. He didn’t look like he was in the mood for playing any games.

  “To the store,” I answered slowly, trying not to sound condescending.

  “What store?” he asked.

  At that moment, I knew I had to do something to soften him up. “Are you worried about me?” I asked, walking back toward him.

  “I just don’t like the idea of you coming and going anytime you see fit without letting anyone know where you are,” he said as I stood directly in front of him and looked up into his eyes. I blinked my eyes a few times and tried my best to look totally innocent. I used to do that sort of thing with my dad, and it worked like a charm.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you by not saying where I’d be. In the future I’ll make sure that someone knows where I am. Besides, you can always call me on my cell phone,” I reminded him.

  “I know that, Viviana. This is about respect for the h
ouse and family,” he explained.

  “Do you think I’m being disrespectful?” I asked innocently.

  “Yes, a little,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry, Uncle Herman,” I said and gave him a big hug, making sure to smash my cheek into his chest. “I don’t mean to be a burden on you.”

  Placing his hands on my shoulders, Uncle Herman gently pushed me away so that he could look into my eyes. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as necessary, Viviana, but there are going to be rules that you must follow.”

  “Okay,” I answered pleasantly. When he smiled down at me, I knew that I’d won him over.

  I came up with a really good lie that I knew he wouldn’t challenge. “I’m going to the corner pharmacy to pick up some personal items. Is that okay?” I asked. Uncle Herman’s jaw dropped a little, and I could tell that he immediately understood that I was trying to tell him I was running out only to pick up hygiene products.

  “Oh, sure.” He paused. “Do you need your aunt Raven to go with you? She can drive you.”

  “No. I’m a big girl. I can handle this one on my own,” I said, smiling at him.

  “Do you need money?” he asked, reaching for his wallet. I wasn’t about to stop him from giving me cash.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “How much do you need?” he asked as I peeked into his wallet. I saw a fifty-dollar bill and what appeared to be several twenty-dollar bills.

  “Fifty dollars should cover what I need,” I said, waiting for him to give it to me.

  “I’ll make sure that your aunt makes a mental note to keep up with all the things you girls need,” Uncle Herman said.

  I leaned close to him and whispered, “I’ll make sure she knows so that you don’t have to feel embarrassed.”

  “Oh, I’m not embarrassed if you’re not,” he said.

  Not wanting my lie to go any further than it already had, I said, “Okay, are we done here?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Okay. I’ll be back in a little while,” I said.

  “Are you sure you don’t want Anna or Maya to go with you?” he asked as I opened the front door.

  “Yes, I am positive,” I said as I walked out.

  * * *

  When I arrived at the River Oaks Center, I hung out at the food court, which was overflowing with shoppers taking time to grab a quick bite to eat. According to Toya Taylor, I was to keep an eye out for easy targets. As luck would have it, I spotted the perfect victim. A woman had just paid for her food with a credit card, and instead of placing the card back inside her purse, she had placed it in the side pocket of the suit jacket she was wearing. I immediately placed myself on a collision course with her. My plan was to bump into her “accidentally,” reach into her pocket, lift the credit card and discreetly walk away.

  I took one last deep breath before I moved in to execute my plan.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said the moment I bumped into the lady. I touched her shoulder with my left hand so that all of her attention was focused away from my right hand, which had successfully slipped into her pocket and retrieved the credit card.

  I continued talking to the stranger. “I’m so clumsy. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?” Judging solely by the clothes she was wearing, I assumed she was a businesswoman who’d decided to grab something to eat at the mall’s food court.

  “It’s okay,” she said, assuring me that no harm had been done.

  I smiled at her and apologized once more before casually moving on. I made a loop around the food court and left the area as quickly as I could, before the woman discovered her credit card was missing. The first store I hit was Wet Seal. I hastily found a rack of blue jeans that were my size. A salesgirl, who was not much older than I was, walked over to me and asked if I needed help. I decided to make small talk with her. I figured that if I befriended her, she’d be more than happy to ring up the sale without asking for identification.

  I asked a silly question. “Do you have these jeans in pink?”

  The salesgirl tucked her sandy-brown hair behind her ear and smiled. “I wish,” she said.

  “I think these jeans would look so hot in pink,” I continued, which only encouraged the salesgirl to keep talking.

  Looking around the rack, the salesgirl found a similar pair of jeans in red. “What do you think about these?” she asked.

  “Oh, those are nice,” I said, reaching out and touching the fabric.

  “Would you like to try them on?” she asked with a cheerful smile.

  In the back of my mind, I was telling myself not to waste too much time. If the businesswoman realized she’d lost her credit card, it would take her only a minute or two to contact her credit card company and report it lost.

  “No. I know these are my size. They should fit perfectly,” I said, attempting to sound as gleeful as the salesgirl.

  “Are you sure? Sometimes jeans can fit a little funny,” she said, crinkling her nose.

  “I’m sure. The brand fits me well. What do you think about this brown pair?” I asked, holding them up for her to see.

  “Chocolate jeans are so cool,” she said. She turned around, as if she were searching for something. “I believe those have a top that goes with them.” She stepped away for a brief moment.

  I nervously raced through the rack of jeans and found two more pairs in my size. When the salesgirl returned, she’d located the perfect top.

  “Oh, that is hot,” I said, giving the salesgirl her kudos.

  “There are some more tops over there, if you’d like to take a look,” she suggested.

  “You know, I’m sort of on a budget. I’ll take the jeans that I have and the top you brought over.”

  “Okay. Follow me and I’ll ring everything up for you,” she said cheerfully. I followed her to the counter, where she rang everything up before folding the merchandise and placing it in a shopping bag. “Okay. Your total is $145.37.”

  I pulled out the fifty-dollar bill Uncle Herman had given me, making sure the salesgirl saw it. I then briefly searched my small purse, as if I was looking for more money. I huffed a little, as if I was annoyed, before handing her the stolen credit card. Without hesitating, the girl swiped the card and waited. When I heard the sound of the receipt printing, I exhaled. She handed the credit card back to me, and for the first time, I read the name on it.

  It belonged to Barbara Kendall. I paused in thought for a moment, trying to remember where I’d heard that last name before. Then I realized that the last name of Maya’s best friend, Keysha, was Kendall. I told myself that there was no way they could be related, because Keysha didn’t look anything like the lady I’d stolen the credit card from. Anyway, I quietly thanked Barbara Kendall for not realizing her credit card had been stolen.

  “Here you go. Have a great day,” said the salesgirl.

  “You, too,” I said as I rushed out of the store.

  Next, I hit 5.7.9, then Body Central, Lady Foot Locker and The Limited. I was having a ball with the stolen credit card. I spent nearly a thousand dollars and would have kept going, but I had too many bags. I had shoes, jeans, tops, accessories, a decent dress and even something to work out in with Misalo from J. C. Penney. I was on a high. I wanted to stash the stuff I’d already gotten and go back and keep charging until the card was declined, but I couldn’t. I had to take what I had and head home.

  I decided to break the fifty-dollar bill by buying a snack so that I’d have change to catch the bus back to the house. During the short ride home, I thought about Toya Taylor and was thankful for what she’d taught me. I now fully understood why she took so many risks. It was because the reward was so great.

  When I returned home, I entered the house through the basement door so that no one would see all the shopping bags and start asking
questions I didn’t want to answer. The laundry basket Uncle Herman was using earlier was sitting in front of the dryer.

  “Perfect,” I said aloud as I opened the lid and placed all my purchases inside the basket. I broke down the shoe boxes and placed them inside the shopping bags. I then took all the evidence outside and placed it inside the neighbor’s trash can. I went back inside the house, snatched up the laundry basket and went upstairs to try on all my purchases.

  * * *

  I was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, pivoting in all directions to make sure that the outfit I had on made my butt look big but not sloppy, and that my tummy didn’t look poky. I had to admit that, even though I had been totally nervous and had grabbed items in a rush, I didn’t do too badly as far as coordinating outfits went. What I currently had on—a gorgeous soft blue top with chocolate jeans that accented my every curve, a thick braided jean belt and a pair of fold-over scrunch boots—was a perfect ensemble.

  “Where did you get those clothes?” Maya asked, startling me. She was standing in the doorway, looking bewildered. She gave me the same look the evil stepsisters gave Cinderella when they saw how fabulous she looked in her blue evening gown.

  “None ya’,” I said sarcastically.

  “None ya?” Maya repeated. I’d clearly confused the hell out of her.

  “Yeah, none of your business. Get it?” I said and was about to slam the door in her face, but she stepped inside.

  “I swear, if you’ve been in my closet again, I’ll pour hot grease on you while you’re sleeping,” Maya said, attempting to strike fear in my heart.

  “First of all, you and I don’t even have the same style,” I retorted, raising my voice at her.

  “You could’ve fooled me! Last time I checked, you were taking stuff out of my private collection. Just admit it, Viviana. You want to be like me so bad, but you can’t.”

  “I’d rather have God turn me into a pimple on a frog’s butt before I’d ever want to be like you,” I said unapologetically.