by Richie Drenz
Aubrea got fired up looking at me and Pinky together. She stormed off in a tantrum into the bedroom, rooting out all the clothes out the chestnut draw and throwing them behind her across to the bed. Most of the clothes landed on the floor. None of them I had bought for myself. I had bigger responsibilities to take care of with my small earnings. All the clothes were bought by Aubrea, with some of the money her father had given her before totally cutting her off and forgetting he ever had a daughter named Aubrea.
“Leave. Come out. Mi don't want you in here!”
I didn't want any of the clothes she had bought for me. I didn’t need her handout. All I wanted was my daughter.
“Keep the fucking clothes, make them full your belly.” I walked out into the black night with Pinky hugged in my arms. I had enough money in my pocket to buy chicken-feed.
Nowhere to go.
I went back inside, stole Aubrea’s car key. Drove away with Pinky, stopped at a bar, got drunk, drove drunk, lick down a little boy without knowing, stopped, wondering what I had hit and reversed the car over him. An angry mob came to chop me up. I slammed my foot on gas, sped off to escape, ran head-on in a lightpole, crushed Aubrea's car and it caught ablaze immediately. Pinky was unconscious, she got a big hell of chop on her foot. A nasty scar for life. The blood was spewing, my foot was broken in two places. I never walked the same again.
CHAPTER 30
What Kind of Secret Between Them
by: Pinky
Mi push down the pack of Matterhorn in my bosom, my eyes glued to the message in Aubrea’s phone from mi man. Mi not sure what the messages mean but mi blood start bubble like Konshens tune, just to see that they texting each other behind my back, worse, mi never like how the message sound. Mi read it again, just trying to figure out what it mean and what them could be up to. The text from my man read,
‘Tonight zeen. Make sure.’
What the rass was happening tonight? What’s happening between the two of them that I don't know ’bout? What kind of secret thing is this? I take two slow steps away from the blue board shop because the old lady was making me uncomfortable from staring at me. I walked around to the side of the shop by the lightpole, out of her sight. Mi going to buy thirty-six in Cashpot tomorrow, old woman. Mi open up the message Aubrea sent him. This mi have to see. Her text was plain and straightforward; it didn’t need any second thought. She was the culprit, it read,
‘Finaral Please don’t do that. No games, real thing tonight sure. Linking you at the same place, same time. Pinky in the room, so mi will shout you later.’
What that could’ve meant? Why the fuck she sending mi name in her text to mi man for? And why she can’t talk to him when mi around? Mi squeeze the phone tight and a single word jump out mi mouth,
“Whore!”
Mi snap mi head around to see if the old lady heard me. Her head was peeping through a side window of the shop. The window had a Mandingo calendar pin up on it. My eyes and hers eyes made four, she was just staring in mi morning. I thought to myself, what an old woman inquisitive, at the same time contemplating going back to the hospital, over the ward Aubrea was on. War was on my mind. Mi read the text one more time. Whore.
CHAPTER 31
Pay Me or Get Shot
by: David Lexings
“You not drinking?” The fully-green bartender’s voice woke me up out of my memories. I still held the glass of vodka in my hand, waiting to drink it down. She blew out and swelled a bubble between her crusty lips. It popped and she dragged in the thin splashes of green bubble gum off her lips and bit under her lip to get a stubborn piece that would not return into her mouth.
The vodka in my glass was calling. Something deeper inside me didn’t want it. I had enough. That accident had affected my life entirely, my role as a father, my money, my walk, my marriage, my son, Vance.
“How much mi owe you now baby-love?”
"One fifty.”
I stood, dipped my hand down to the bottom of my pocket to pay her. She eyed me from head to toe.
“So watch here, nothing not wrong with the vodka enuh, you not drinking it?”
"No, it’s alright. Mi have enough.”
“You still have to pay me for it enuh. Once you order it and mi throw it out, you have to pay for it.”
“So that's not what mi doing now? You blind?”
I didn’t feel any money. Strange. I dipped my hand in the other pocket, anxiety building up. No embarrassment on me today, please.
“And make sure you tip mi too.”
“Hold on nuh Green-Ranger,” I stopped digging down in my pocket and stared at her in disbelief. “You don’t see mi searching for the money, just let mi find it first.” What a bartender cold. She didn’t even tell me good evening but now she was demanding a tip. She must see a big round red nose in the middle of mi face. Mi not tipping her a cent. I shook my head.
"What you shaking your head for? You not tipping mi broke-pocket?”
I dug in my pocket faster. Let mi just pay this young miss and leave ’cause she mad in her rass head. No money. Pocket empty.
“Is what? You don’t have no money? You a real broke-pocket enuh”
“Hold on nuh ... Just easy.” I searched again. Thoroughly. No wallet. No money. I sank through the earth.
The bartender called the owner of the bar, who happened to be the police man in the car across the street. Police. Damn. He roughed me up for the money. I tried to explain to him that I was picked by a young youth in full beige but he didn’t believe me. I was dealt with like an animal. Embarrassed in the one place I loved. My place of escape was not escape any more. I knew it was my sign. A sign that I should give up bars, and drinking. Pinky came to bail me out the crisis with no money. The little girl spend it off. Jesus Christ man, it was calamity on top of calamity. Even though Pinky had spent my change. What she did was give Mr. Mathias, couple bills fifty bags of weed out her bosom. And of course you know she rubbed it in, that the weed I was cursing her about came to my rescue. I replied to her,
“If you never spend off mi change mi would be ok, you know you don’t bother send mi no ‘please credit me’ for the rest of the month though, cause you spend off mi change.”
"Oh to rass, Daddy look here on ‘em text messages here that Aubrea send mi man.” Her head was down looking at Aubrea’s phone in her hand and pressing the buttons to bring up the messages. She didn’t looked up. “Tell mi what you think, cause is kill mi want kill the one Aubrea she.” She passed me the phone.
I read the text, something definitely was up, I answered Pinky
“Well it could mean anything still.”
"You blind? What else it could mean? It say them linking up tonight, what else that could mean? You act like you don’t know is long time Aubrea fucking on you, you need to stop deny it, the whole community know. Mi love Vance but mi sure Vance is not —-”
“Shut up your mouth nuh! Mi ask you anything? Mi ask you nothing? You just don’t know when to bloodseed chat, that's your problem. You think anything come to your mouth you must chat, shut up man.”
"Daddy you know! Why you don’t do a DNA?”
“I don't need to do any DNA. He’s mine.”
“Well sure as the sun rise, tonight mi will find out what Aubrea up to, and trust mi it won't be pretty.”
CHAPTER 32
Be Warned
by: David Lexings
When Pinky and I reached by Vance’s bed at the hospital, Vance wasn’t there.
Empty bed.
I found out in the evening, according to what Lee said, that she had locked herself away and turned off her phone. Gloe then logged on to twitta or twippa, whatever it name, and people were having a blast with the pics Munchy uploaded. The pictures were funny and some unbelievable. They were retweeting most of the wedding pictures Munchy uploaded, they were just too funny. Browsing through the pictures the first one to make Gloe laugh was the one with the frog-face Pastor Ellis which had gotten the most retweets so far. S
ome persons were asking if it was photoshopped or real. She saw some more hilarious shots of Pinky fighting and thought it was pretty damn funny how Nathan was running away like a coward. It was one hell of a wedding and Pinky had some flowers pot to buy back. She saw the picture of Vance getting an heart attack and her heart stopped. She knew Leelia had left the wedding before this took place.
Leelia didn’t want any disturbance. Gloe disturbed her persistently, insisting that she open up. Leelia looked at the tweets. With only minutes remaining. Leelia called Dr. Reid and paid for the Vance’s treatment by maxing out Qwan’s credit card. Dr. Reid had already began surgery on Vance when he heard of Pinky’s earnest devotion to ending his life. News had already reached his ears of how much damage she did with several flowers pot, he didn’t want to cross her path. Vance was held under observation for three days before he was sent home with the warning that he need to do the surgery by Thursday, latest Friday, or else he’s dead.
Aubrea left the hospital the same day. She didn’t drink the orange juice. She was to meet with Finaral in the night.
Night came.
She didn’t leave the house.
Pinky was angry, because she was time-pedalling the two to see what they were up to.
Aubrea didn’t leave because I warned her that Pinky had read her texts.
Pinky said that she will never stop until she got down to the bottom of everything. She vowed if she didn’t catch them today then she will catch them tomorrow. I agreed with her.
But I still warned Aubrea about Pinky’s intention.
CHAPTER 33
Keep Trying Till Never
by: Leelia Lexings
Eleven days out of this week I’ve been trying to get through to Qwan’s phone. This was my twenty-ninth time calling his phone today without getting any answer. He wouldn’t take my calls and he still wasn’t sleeping at his house. I just can’t get through to him, no matter what I tried. He was too devastated from the wedding. He had nothing to do with me anymore, nor ever again. He didn’t want to see my face or hear my voice.
I tried calling for the thirtieth time. His phone rang.
(((Rrring. Rrring.)))
Still no answer. I tried calling with Gloe’s phone, I put my number on private, I called at nights, mornings, evenings, days, blue moon, full moon. No answer. I gave up.
I resorted to my only other option, Micheal Douglas.
I didn't want to blackmail Mr. Micheal Douglas to persuade Qwan to get back with me but my brother was depending on it. Time was ticking away, every minute counted. I was desperate, and desperate situations demanded desperate things. I dialled Mr. Douglas.
(((Rrring. Rrring.)))
No answer Yet.
(((Rrring. Rrring.)))
Got him.
“Good morning Mr. Douglas, it’s Leelia. Can you talk?” He went silent then answered.
“Yes. Yes.” His voice then went up, “What is it?” I felt his voice searching with curious eyes but with more fear in his heart than anything else knowing I held the handle to things and he held the blade. Just where I wanted him, pinned. My next sentence proceeded to tactfully corner him.
“You remember that thing from the other night —-“, he interrupted me
“I can’t talk to you about that now.”
“You better listen to what I ...” Something’s wrong,
“Mr. Douglas? Mr. Douglas?” No answer. A couple seconds passed before I heard the empty tone humming through the phone. Shocked, I still held the phone at my ears listening for his further response, waiting on my opportunity to talk. Did he really hung up? I spoke in the cell.
“Mr. Douglas?” Continued nothing. Unbelieve-fucking-able. That!.. That! ... I pulled the cell from my ear and held it directly to my mouth, screamed,
“Mr. Douglas!” Only the annoying tone. Son of a motherfucker. I yelled again, more angry
“Mr. Douglas!” Flatline sound. He definitely had disrespectfully hung up. I heard the connection got cut. My face slackened, astounded by his brute rudeness. Some nerves! He can French smooch my ass!
I pressed the redial button with hard force. His phone rang. The tip of my nose grew some tiny marbles of sweat.
(((Rrring. Rrring.)))
I’m going to be blistering cold with him for dealing with me like crap.
(((Rrring. Rrring.)))
It rang right out. He didn't answer.
I called seven more times. One right behind the other without break. The scum didn’t answer. How can he be so disrespectful? The small fire in me blazed into a big flame of rage. My brother situation in the middle of my thought and with time running out, it was overbearing on me. And now Mr. Douglas disrespect? Just when I desperately needed his help? I was being pushed pass anger. Some nerve! Some fucking nerves! I’ve dirt on you and you know this and you gonna disrespect me? Disrespect me? Fuck, I wanted to hurt him. Hurt him real bad. Real bad. I’ll show him.
I try icing my temper. Went to the fridge, poured myself some Dole pineapple juice, sliced a piece of cosmopolitan cheese cake. I couldn’t finish the juice. My mind was stomping too much. I was so pissed I must have had a weak bladder. I didn’t know what to do to diffuse my anger, my thin legs was making a heavy thud noise every time my heel hit the floor as I walked over to the dresser. Picked up the brown furniture-color comb, combed my hair, combed my hair straight through, harder, rough, more like raking it than combing. Dragging the teeth of the comb through, the comb tugged my scalp when it encountered any tangling of my hair. I didn’t stop, I dragged it, ripping, brute force, breaking my hair, tearing out some of my hair from the root, hurting my scalp but I didn’t seem to feel anything. I continued raking, raking, raking through my hair. I dropped the brown comb back on the dresser, a tear fell. My eyes murky with tears. Why? Why? Why?
I looked at me in the mirror. My tears flowing freely down my face. Why must this happen to Vance? Why God? Why? I won’t give up. I won’t give up. Lord give me the strength to fight on. I know there is a way.
An hour passed. I privated my number, called Mr. Douglas. His phone rang twice. On the third ring I successfully got through to his voicemail, not him. I dialled again, and speaking loud to myself, like I was a mad woman, as if he could hear me threatening him ‘Answer the phone nuh, you little wretch!’ Nothing. No answer. Waited five more minutes. Called back. This time was different. His phone was off. I vexedly hoofed off into the kitchen. Lord, I’m not giving up. I just won’t. If Mr. Douglas want to play hardball, well damn-well hardball it will be. Back to my dresser, looked in the mirror, picked up the brush, brushed my hair. Again. Again. Planning.
My mind’s all over the place. I really needed to talk, so I dialled Pinky.
Pinky picked up and I went straight into venting,
“Pinky I don’t know what to do again, it’s like everywhere mi turn mi get dial-tone. I really want help Vance but nothing’s working. I feel like giving up. The whole drama thing with the wedding, now this.”
“Give up? Just have faith in God sis, mi tired to tell you, you can’t control things, just leave it to God. And stop fret ’bout the wedding. God know what him doing, even mi did know that is never Qwan you was to married. From six years aback mi always think Vybz was the right man for you.”
“Ajrien? Hsst, him get too bad, he got all his subjects and throw them away to go run up and down with gun like an idiot. Childish love. He’s just in the past. I got over him longtime.”
“Hmm. So you say.”
"What? Him tell you him still like me?”
"Not really but you sure you over him Lee?”
I stopped brushing my hair, froze with the brush midway the length of my hair.
“Of course I’m sure.” I got back in action, finished pulling the brush down the length of my hair slowly in thought while I answered. “We living in two different worlds right now, it would never work ... I think you should be with him. Both of you really compatible and look good together, plus, both of you live so
close already like husband and wife. I think you should leave Finaral and be with someone who you’re compatible with like Ajrien since you always complaining about how much you don’t like Finaral.”
"You sure you over him Lee?”
“Pinky don’t add to mi stress! I said yes ... Sound like is you who like him?”
"Mi kind of like him yes, but mi couldn’t sleep with him because mi never sleep with a younger man than me yet, plus mi wouldn’t comfortable sleeping with my sister one time man, is dirty life that.”
“Look how long that pass and gone Pinky, from I was thirteen, fourteen. Try it. Perry and Dushawn love him. What’s stopping you?”
I forced my voice to sound like I really wanted her to be with him. I couldn’t admit to Pinky that I was still madly in love with Ajrien. It wasn’t right for a girl like me to like a guy like him. Well not anymore. What would people say about me? I know people gossiping and chatting about us wouldn’t hurt me literally, but come on, what’s the benefit of being with Ajrien? What good will I take all the prosecuting and chatting behind my back for? And how would things work with me and him if he doesn’t have any money? He has a daughter. Sigh. It would never work.
But what if in some strange magical way it could work? What if he stopped the night prowling? What if ... aahh, this was just wishful thinking. It would never work. It would work better with Pinky. Sigh. But could I live with that though. Jesus mi would dead inside if Ajrien ever married Pinky. I know Pinky good enough, she’d never go to bed with my ex-boyfriend. Ajrien. You know, Ajrien thuggish ways kind of turns me on. I wonder if, naah, no, no, it wouldn’t ... sigh ...
