A Big Girl's Revenge

by Ms. Michel Moore

  Sticking out his hand to shake hers, he spoke. “Yeah, wat up, doe, Mrs. Jackson? How you?”

  “Oh, Mother, he’s just teasing around with you.” Keisha interrupted, nudging his shoulder. “Aren’t you, Rico?”

  “I would hope so.” Mr. Jackson walked in the room, giving the visitor, his daughter’s new boyfriend, a disapproving stare for speaking to his wife in that street slang-inspired manner. “That conduct is not acceptable in my household. We speak English.”

  Once again, Keisha jumped in, praying the spontaneous heated attitudes in the room would vanish. “Daddy, this is Rico Campbell,” she gushed. “Rico, this is my father, Executive County Commissioner Lorenzo James Jackson.”

  Remaining silent, ignoring the introduction altogether, Rico checked out the expensive statues, pictures, and other knick-knacks that were placed just so. He felt the obvious heated tension in the room as well as the shade Mr. Jackson was throwing his way. Not used to being judged, Rico became arrogant as well as defensive, and it showed.

  We speak English! Rico mocked Keisha’s father in his mind. Who in the hell this guy think he talking to?

  Keisha’s mother also sensed her husband growing angry, and like her daughter, tried to intervene. “So, you guys were running a tad bit late. We were just about to be seated for dinner. Excuse me, Rico. Would you like to wash your hands and freshen up?”

  “My hands is already clean. What is you trying to say, lady? Shit!” Still feeling some sort of way about Keisha’s father checking him, he abruptly lashed out at a stunned Mrs. Jackson’s hospitality. “And I see y’all watching me like I’m gonna steal some of this ugly stuff y’all got around here.”

  “Now, hold it one minute, son!” Mr. Jackson was going to put a stop to Rico’s outlandish behavior before he went any further. “I will not tolerate that type of language in my home! Keisha, where did you find him at, the city dump? Is this the type of individual you’ve been spending all your time with? This-this-this bum!”

  “Who in the fuck you calling a bum?” Rico dropped one of the tiny knick- knacks he was holding to the floor. Instantly, he took offense, and the two men squared up.

  “You—whatever your name is,” Mr. Jackson quickly replied, infuriated and not backing down. “You have my daughter out running the streets all times of the night and days at a time. Now you come into my home behaving like an animal. It’s obvious you have no home training to speak of.”

  “Damn, what’s wrong with you? You mad I’m getting some of that old school money you trying to keep to yourself? Or is you pissed off that I’m bending your daughter over regularly, getting that fat, tight-ass pussy of hers?” Rico’s voice got louder and louder with each passing disrespectful word. “Which one is it? ’Cause I’m doing both, trust.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Naw, old man, is you?”

  “You must not know who you’re talking to.”

  “Wow—you saying that shit like you the president.”

  “Listen, young man, you’re treading on dangerous ground. I’m warning you. You’re making a serious mistake.”

  “Come on, you ain’t the Mafia.” Rico turned to Keisha, further ridiculing her father. “You ain’t tell me your sperm donor was a comedian.”

  “Rico, shut up,” Keisha snapped, frowning.

  “Oh, okay, so now you calling boss shots like this ancient motherfucker.”

  “That’s it!” Mr. Jackson feverishly announced.

  Short of coming to blows, the two men violently argued as Mrs. Jackson, glass still in hand, horrified, wasted no time in calling the police to remove Rico from the premises. She couldn’t believe her ears and the godawful things Rico alleged he was doing to her only child.

  “Yes, the young man is being overly aggressive and extremely disrespectful. I’m scared he’s going to become physical as well. Please send help right away. Please.”

  Not believing what was taking place, Keisha was in shock things had gone to the South so fast. “Rico, please. Please, stop it. What’s wrong with you?” she cried out, tugging at his arm as Sandy, the chef, emerged from the kitchen with a meat cleaver in tow.

  “What’s wrong with me?” Rico snatched his arm back, knocking Keisha toward the doorway where Sandy was standing. “Bitch, what in the fuck is wrong with you and yours? Y’all think cause y’all live in this big-ass crib y’all can look down on a nigga. Well, fuck all of that and that commissioner of whatever garbage. That bullshit don’t mean jack to a street nigga. Y’all ain’t no better than me or mines.”

  “Naw, it’s not like that, Rico, I swear. You need to calm down. Everyone does.”

  Smushing her in the face like she was nothing, Rico turned his attention back to Mr. Jackson.

  “I want you out this house now,” Keisha’s father demanded, still not backing down to the common thug and balling up his fist to defend his daughter’s honor.

  “Fuck you, old man. I’ll leave when I’m ready.”

  Keisha tried once more to intervene but stumbled backward as each man in her life got closer to exchanging blows.

  Just as Rico cuffed up Mr. Jackson, throwing him into the wall of the foyer, Sandy raised the cleaver to protect her longtime employer and his family. Luckily, the police bolted through the front door. If this was Detroit, it might’ve taken hours for the police to show up, if they even came at all. However, this was the Caucasian-infested suburbs where playing with an individual acting up wasn’t in their department’s DNA. Sure, Commissioner Jackson and his family were just as black as Rico appearance-wise, but his vast wealth made him green to the white man, and his political position made him and his family’s safety a priority.

  They dragged the defiant young hooligan out to the yard. The neighbors, along with Keisha’s parents and Sandy, shook their heads in disgust as Rico yelled out every obscene vulgar word in his limited high-school-dropout vocabulary. He even called a hysterical Keisha a couple of “fat bitches,”, “stankin’ hoes” and “dirty sluts” before it was over.

  “I had your daughter on her knees right before we came. Tell your father how you deep-throat this motherfucker, Keisha, and call me daddy. Tell him that!” Handcuffed, stomped out, then tossed in the rear of the patrol car, Rico kicked at the windows as an embarrassed and enraged Mr. Jackson vowed to press charges.

  When the cops drove off, Keisha stood mute. She knew the man whose milky warm cum she worshiped was now more notorious in her parents’ eyes than Public Enemy Number One. Despite Rico’s barrage of insults and threats against her family, Keisha grabbed her purse and keys. Obviously hoodwinked and loyal to the salty taste of his nut, she tossed her purse onto the passenger seat and jumped in her truck to follow.

  “Keisha, wait just one minute, young lady. Did you hear how that hooligan spoke to you? Have you lost your mind? He’s no more than a common thug!” Mr. Jackson held the door of the truck. He was disappointed in his daughter’s recent choices and dark changes in personality. Obviously, it was due to her dealings with Rico. He promised Keisha, right then and there, as long as she chose to run with the likes of that lowlife goon, she’d be financially disowned and was as good as dead to them. “Keisha, I’m not playing around with you. I know you think you’re grown, but that type of street element is beneath you. He doesn’t love you like I do—like we do. What are you thinking? We raised you better than this—better than him!”

  “Daddy, it doesn’t matter what you say. I love him,” she screamed, ready to pay Rico’s bail no matter what the cost. “And he loves me too. You just don’t know him. I don’t know what happened just now. He’s not like that. I promise he isn’t.”

  “You are restricted from seeing him,” Mr. Jackson ordered as his well-to-do white neighbors looked on, wondering what their gated community was coming to. Luckily, in hopes of avoiding a scandal, his nosey reporter neighbor wasn’t in the crowd.

  “Daddy, I’m grown and I love him!”

  “Listen, sweetheart, no normal person just flips
out like that.” Mrs. Jackson, distraught, spoke up, trying to coax Keisha to come to her senses. “It’s obvious you don’t know him either. Maybe he’s on drugs. And maybe he has you on drugs, too. Is that it?”

  “Drugs? What?” Keisha, too stubborn to see the true Rico, pulled the truck door shut, ready to leave.

  “Now, Keisha Marie Jackson, I’m warning you. You drive off in this truck, running behind that low-life fool if you want to.” Mr. Jackson had had enough of trying to bargain and negotiate. Tight-lipped, he stood out of the truck’s path. “I promise you a couple of cold days in hell before I let you back into my house.”

  Keisha was blinded by love and the power of Rico’s long, curved dick. Strung out, she wasn’t going to let no one, including the strong bond she and her father always had, come in between it.

  “I gotta go.” She forced a smile at her sobbing mother and Sandy before starting the truck and screeching off.

  Rico loves me!

  * * *

  As Keisha continued being bent on top of the wooden dresser, now being recklessly banged in the ass, she momentarily snapped back to her senses. The months she’d spent hanging with Rico were nothing more than a waste of her young life. Almost destitute, now living from paycheck to paycheck in the griminess of the Detroit ghetto, she thought about everything she’d given up to be with him in such a short amount of time—her parents, her friends, her truck, and even her cherished virginity.

  Most importantly, raising her head to see Rico laughing at her excruciating pain in the mirror, Keisha realized she’d even lost her own self-worth. Crazy as it seemed, Rico didn’t rob her of those things. Dumbly chasing the almighty good dick Rico always claimed he had, Keisha gave them to him on a silver platter.

  Why did I bail him out that day? She wished she could turn back the hands of time and take back most, if not all, the degrading things she’d done for Rico, all in the name of love. Why didn’t I listen to my friends when they said they saw him at the club kicking it with other females? Why did my ass really believe when I was slaving at work for a paycheck to pay our bills, he let Swazy smash a chic in our house and that was her bra I found stuffed in the cushion? Damn, I guess that wasn’t his used condom that was disrespectfully thrown under the driver’s seat of my truck back then . . . Yeah, right! Resentful of her stupidity, Keisha fought with her demons as Rico took every shit-covered, throbbing inch out her rear end, shoving it back into her swollen cunt, and started to grind.

  “That’s enough. Stop!” she shouted, trying to stand up. “I want you to stop! I’m not playing, Rico!”

  “Bitch, please. I’m calling the shots. I done already told your ugly ass that, so you might as well relax until I bust.” With a balled-up fist, Rico socked her in the back of her head, making her collapse back down onto the dresser. “And I done told you about that smart mouth of yours already this morning.”

  Keisha felt dazed, shutting her eyes once more, remembering more of her horrible life since hooking up with Rico—especially the evening she’d bailed him out after the confrontation at her parents’ home.

  * * *

  “I swear I’ma kill your motherfucking father. That wanna-be white nigga is as good as dead!” Still infuriated from spending the night locked up then mysteriously released, Rico took his personal property out the large manila envelope. Re-lacing his Pradas as Keisha drove toward the hotel room they’d been staying in, he reached over, violently smacking her across the face.

  “Argggh, why you hit me?” Grabbing the side of her jaw, Keisha swerved toward the curb, almost crashing into a parked car. “What’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

  Rico laughed but was very much still pissed as the veins pulsated on each side of his temples. “Are you fucking serious? Your dumb ass is the one that took me over to that motherfucker. If it wasn’t for you wanting me to meet your fake old dude and that ugly mama of yours, I would’ve been chilling at the club or some shit, not posted on a hard metal bench surrounded by a bunch of hard-leg niggas.”

  Fed up with him talking so disrespectfully about her parents, Keisha finally spoke up. “Look, Rico, my mom and dad were only trying to be cordial to you. You’re the one who blew everything out of proportion acting all crazy, embarrassing me, them, and yourself. You were wrong. You ruined everything.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Rico laughed once more before putting his chain and cross back around his neck and tossing the now empty envelope out the truck window. “Is that right? You think I was wrong? Is that what you said?”

  “Yeah, dead wrong.” Keisha got even more brazen with it. “And because of me bailing you out, my father said he was cutting me off and was done with me. We’ve always been super close, and you destroyed that bond, probably forever.”

  “Fuck your old man. I told you dude is gonna get his. Talking down to me like he’s some sort of kingpin!”

  “You need to stop acting so damn stupid.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Rico.”

  “Bitch—you done lost your mind.”

  “No, I haven’t! You out of control.”

  “Who out of control?”

  “You, Rico—that’s who. My girl was right about you.”

  Rico waited until Keisha reached the next red light, bringing the truck to a complete stop. Before she could say another word, he lunged over to the driver’s seat, ramming her head against the window.

  “What you mean, your girl was right?” He shoved harder, pressing his fingers into her cheek. “I spent the night in jail, and your punk ass out here talking reckless shit about me with them fat, ugly friends of yours?”

  “Naw, Rico,” Keisha cried, never having been treated like this before. “It wasn’t like that. I promise it wasn’t. You gotta believe me. It wasn’t.”

  “I don’t believe jack.”

  “It’s true. I swear.”

  “Yeah, right. I was stuck in jail, nursing a swollen lip because of them ho-ass police, and you was out here letting your family and friends dog me.”

  “Oh, Rico, please. You gotta believe me. I love you! It wasn’t like that at all. I’m on your side.”

  When Rico saw the way she was begging for his forgiveness, his mind started working overtime. “You know what? Just drop me off at the hotel room and get the fuck on.”

  “What?” Keisha was stunned as he suddenly released his painful grip, switching up his demeanor altogether. “What you mean? What you saying?”

  “Yeah, you heard me. Get the fuck on. I’m done with your silly ass. Go on back home to your daddy. I’m tight on you.”

  Keisha didn’t know what to say or do next. The guy she was so head over heels in love with had cursed her mother, attacked her father, and had just smacked her up. Any hood-raised female’s reaction would’ve been obvious: either stab the nigga in his sleep with a butcher knife or get the fuck on altogether. However, Keisha’s suburban upbringing and low self-esteem had her at a total loss.

  “Wait, Rico, I’m sorry. Let’s just talk, please.”

  “Naw, Keisha, I’m good.” Rico knew she was sprung, and he played the game like a champ. “Just drop me off at the room.” He started searching through his cell phone contacts, acting as if he were going to make a call. “I need to be with a female that’s down with me. Go live your life. I’ll be all right.”

  Begging Rico to stay with her and give her a second chance to be that down-ass chick she thought he was about to call, Keisha started to hyperventilate while she was driving. So emotionally in, she had to pull the truck over for him to take the wheel and drive.

  “Please . . . Rico . . . give . . . me . . . a . . . chance.” She struggled to breathe through the magnitude of tears and an almost unbearable migraine. “I . . . love . . . you . . . so . . . much!”

  By the time Rico pulled up in the parking lot of the Red Roof Inn and jumped out the vehicle with the engine still running, he knew he had her hook, line, and sinker.

  Keisha didn’t care if someone drove o
ff and stole the truck that was in her father’s name. Not bothering to turn it off and take the keys, she was trailing behind Rico, still pleading her case. Rico eased up on the mental torture he was putting Keisha through, knowing what pimp player stunt he was about to pull. He told her to go get her keys and purse and come inside the room so that they could talk.

  Unfortunately, when the young, ill-matched pair got inside the hotel room they had been sharing for the past month, streetwise Rico was the only one doing the talking. Twenty minutes of him berating her and a few phone calls later, there was a knock at the door.

  “What up, doe?” A shirtless Rico smiled, flinging the room door all the way open and standing to the side.

  “Hey, what up doe with you?” a thin-framed female with a short cropped hairstyle came inside. “I was just thinking about you. Where you been hiding, stranger? And is that a new tattoo?” She slowly rubbed his chest with familiarity.

  Not really in the mood to do too much talking, Rico cut the greeting short. “Listen, babe.” He opened his muscular arms, pulling her close to him as a red-eyed, dumbfounded Keisha looked on. “Let a nigga get some of that wet tongue of yours.”

  “Dude, what in the fuck happened to your lip?”

  “Trust me, it ain’t shit. Just kiss a nigga.”

  As they swapped spit, Keisha grew instantly jealous. She was on ten but knew not to say a word. The girl was thinner than her, much prettier than her, and seemed to have more of a ghetto edge, just like Rico. She wanted to jump up from the mattress, ball up her fist, and go ham, but she held her composure. Just minutes ago, the once-proud female was on her knees, crawling around the carpet, begging for Rico’s forgiveness for her smart mouth. She’d promised Rico she’d be down with anything as long as he didn’t break it off with her. Keeping quiet was her first test of the night, but certainly not her last.

  “Lay back on the bed and open your legs,” Rico smoothly urged the mystery girl who was wearing a short blue jean miniskirt with no panties on. “Then play with that pussy. You know how daddy like it.”