A Big Girl's Revenge

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “Come on, dude.” Swazy tried taking a cop, knowing he’d been waiting on an opportunity to make amends. “We go too far back to let some dumb shit come between us being cool. We was all high as fuck and drunk as hell.”

  “And what’s your point, Swazy? Huh? That shit was foul—but I guess blood thicker than water, huh?”

  “Come on, man. Think about it. You was wrong as hell pulling a gun on niggas—your boys and shit!”

  “Yeah, where in the fuck is my gun anyway? I need—naw, I want that shit back.” Rico’s voice grew in volume as the girl working the cash register and a few other customers looked on.

  “Yo, I been had it, but your ass went underground. After the hood was talking about you tearing up ole girl truck and the police coming by your crib, niggas ain’t know what jumped. And everybody around here knows how Keisha is. They ain’t asking her jack, and she showl in the fuck ain’t volunteering a damn thing.” Swazy tried defusing Rico’s long-standing anger. “Come on, guy. Let’s just squash this shit.”

  Thinking about what happened to him that night at the hands of Swazy and his cousin, and taking in consideration he knew Swazy had just dry-snitched him out to Keisha earlier, Rico’s mind started working overtime.

  “Yeah, all right, man. We cool, but your cousin, he straight grimy. Him and me got some unfinished business. That dude a full-grown snake.”

  Swazy gave him a playful shoulder bump while still holding onto a big bag of chicken. “Listen, guy. Ole boy about to hop on that dog in a few heading south. That’s why I got this grub and a big-ass Faygo Red Pop in the ride. “I just gotta pick him up from this skank’s crib on the Eastside, near Mack and Bewick, and drop him off at Greyhound. He taking that work back, so you know he gonna be ghost for a good while. Y’all can work that shit out later—like men.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Rico schemed as his vindictive-toned words dripped from his lips. “Maybe so.”

  “Yeahm dawg. Why don’t you hit me up in about ninety minutes and we can blow something up in the air? Maybe have a toast to them locs you cut off.”

  Hell bent on revenge, Rico agreed before Swazy left. Conveniently, he didn’t mention him speaking to Keisha over at the Coney Island, so Rico played the game also and didn’t either. After eating his food in the dining area, Rico headed home.

  * * *

  Noticing all the lights were off inside the house except for the bathroom, Rico crept through each dark room. Praying Keisha wasn’t bold enough to be hiding with a frying pan or another bat to try to detach his head from the rest of his body, he tried to be as quiet as possible.

  “I hear your two-timing, rotten bastard ass in this house, Rico Campbell. You ain’t slick.”

  Rico paused, but only long enough to look for something in the hallway to defend himself. “Look, Keisha. I ain’t come back here for all that nonsense you was talking earlier. I ain’t in the mood.”

  With a jar of Motions hair relaxer in one hand and a comb in the other, Keisha stepped out into the hallway.

  “You ain’t in the mood?” She sucked her teeth and continued smoothing in the chemical. “Well, guess what? Neither am I. Matter of fact, I’m done talking about it. From this point on, you do you, because I’m damn straight doing me!”

  “Oh, yeah?” Rico bossed up, sensing his money train was pulling out the station yet again. “What you saying?”

  “Negro, please. I know that Detroit public school education taught you a little bit of common sense, didn’t it?” Keisha dipped back in the bathroom, looking into the mirror. “But just in case it didn’t, let me break the bullshit down for your stupid ass. Nigga, as of today, right now, this fucking second, me and you is through. Over.”

  For the past month, up until a few hours ago, bad-boy Rico had been on his best behavior where Keisha was concerned. He really hadn’t been hanging out with his boys all times of the night. He truly wasn’t calling Keisha negative, disrespectful names or putting his hands on her. As for kicking it with other females, besides calling Ocean earlier, he was innocent of even flirting with the next chick. However, if Keisha wanted it like that, to him, it was definitely not a problem.

  “Okay, check this out, you ugly, fucked-up-in-the-face rat. You run around here in this hood, thinking you better than everybody. Well, guess what? Niggas be clownin’ your fake ass and clownin’ me for dealing with a fat-ass monster like you.” Rico spit on the floor, showing his disgust for their relationship. “Every time I wake up and see that mug, let alone kiss you, I wanna throw up.”

  “Oh, yeah? Is that right?” Keisha felt tears swell in her eyes.

  “Yeah, but hold up, you stankin’ bitch. Don’t get to crying now, Keisha. You wanted to man up, so man up.”

  “I’m only crying because I wasted so much of my time on an uneducated hood hoodlum like you. When I finish my hair, I’m gonna get dressed and find me somebody who appreciates me.”

  Walking away and into the bedroom, Rico soon returned with a stun gun he had hidden up on the closet shelf. “Okay, smart-talking, goofy trick with all the mouth. Get on your motherfucking knees and suck this big black dick before you leave. Then ask the next buster that kiss you out in them streets how my nut taste.”

  With a head full of perm, Keisha stood back, asking him if he was crazy. While she was reaching for a towel, Rico hit the button, making a small amount of electric charge buzz through the top. Realizing she had nowhere to run, Keisha tried to bargain and negotiate her way out of the potential violent situation.

  “Okay, wait a minute, Rico.” She threw both hands up, dropping the towel. “Why you doing this? Why? You the one that broke your promise. You the one that was talking to that stripper Ocean on the phone, baby mama or not. And you the one that took that messed-up video that ruined my damn life in the first place.”

  Seemingly mad at the world, Rico’s eyes looked cold and lifeless. Gripping the black, rectangular-shaped handle, he hit the button once more.

  “And guess what, Keisha? I’m the one that’s about to get his dick sucked, too. So stop talking and drop down like I told you. Now!”

  Having no other choice but to do as she was told, begrudgingly she eased her thick body down in between the sink and the bathtub. With the stinging feeling of the extra-strength perm starting to burn and irritate her scalp, Keisha opened her mouth wide, taking all of Rico in that she possibly could. As she slurped and licked the head and the shaft, he callously hit the button on the fully charged stun gun a couple of more times, causing Keisha to jerk her neck.

  Just as he was about to bust, Rico took a step backward, sliding his pole out her wet mouth. Using his free hand, he took direct aim at her face. Completely amused at the sight of her on her knees, with white-in-color perm caked in her head and a wad of his cum oozing down from her barely open eyelids, Rico couldn’t contain himself.

  “Damn, you ugly. You one fucked-up ho. I swear for God, you busted.” He cruelly meant every word he was saying. “I wish you could see your uppity ass now. Matter of fact—” Reaching in the back pocket of his jeans that were still down past his knees, he pulled out his cracked-screen cell. Holding it up, he dared her to try to hide her face as he took several pictures. “I can’t see this shit clearly now, but fuck it, I bet the next nigga’s screen ain’t fucked up.”

  “Rico, please don’t. Please!” Keisha’s scalp felt like it was on fire. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she begged, still on her knees.

  “Shut the fuck up, Keisha! That’s your problem—you talk too damn much. For a whole month, I was posted in this raggedy motherfucker, and you got the nerve to be talking about giving the pussy to the next nigga. Bitch, please. Don’t nobody want you but me. Your life is useless, ma. Remember that.” He pulled his pants back up, zipping them. “And if you keep talking slick, even I ain’t gonna want that ass. You know what? Fuck this bullshit and you. I’m out.” Pissed off, Rico took the money for the rent from Keisha’s purse. For her sake, luckily, he didn’t see A.J.’s cell number folded
up, or there’d be no telling what he’d do next. Irritated, he left the house with Keisha still in the bathroom on the floor, scared to move.

  When, and only when, she was sure he was gone, she turned the shower on full blast. Not having time to even take her clothes off, Keisha jumped underneath the strong pressure of the cold water. Exhaling, she felt the relief of the burning chemical rinse out her almost-ear-length hair. Tightly closing her eyes, letting the water wash away Rico’s sperm, she prayed he wouldn’t let anyone see the pictures he’d just taken. Raising her hand up to wipe some of the water from her face, she felt huge clumps of her hair falling from her head and onto the shower floor. Seeing it clog the drain, Keisha slid down the wet walls and sat there in disbelief over the mess she’d made of her life.

  * * *

  Rico met up with Swazy at a mutual friend’s house. The girl, whom they had both banged at one point or another, was always down to get high, drunk, or fuck, so chilling over there to daybreak was definitely not a problem. After she was passed out cold, Swazy and Rico continued to get high. Still trying to feel each other out, the once-closer-than-brothers best friends curiously asked questions about each other’s recent dealings.

  Rico, on a mission, had one thing and one thing only in mind, and that was to fuck Swazy’s street credibility over like he’d done his that night at the dice game, and then ultimately put a bullet in his cousin’s head. So, of course, every question Rico was asked, he answered carefully.

  This boy think I’m a fool. He ain’t said jack shit about seeing Keisha’s ugly ass up at the Coney Island. Rico suspiciously smirked from across the room. He probably wanna hook his cousin up with my meal ticket. Sneaky motherfucker. That’s why he keep bringing her and me up.

  Swazy, on the other hand, had his own agenda. Not really giving a fuck about Rico truly forgiving him, low-key the only thing he was interested in was information about Keisha and how Rico’s relationship with her was going. Commissioner Jackson was pressuring revoking his probation and getting him locked up if he didn’t hold up his side of the bargain. From the first time he met him and from several phone updates, Swazy could easily tell Keisha’s father was not to be played with and far from a joke.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The following day, to no surprise, Rico hadn’t come home. Keisha wasn’t shocked. Truthfully, she was glad. Most times he did that crap, she’d be up practically all night, worried, but not this time. As she washed her face, looking into the mirror at the huge bald spots and fresh sores on her scalp, she prayed he was dead. That way she wouldn’t have to be strong enough to leave him; he’d just be dead and gone. Already running late for work, she struggled to find a way to do something, if anything, with her hair, or what was left of it. Yeah, Keisha had plenty of weave lying around the house: a multitude of buns, ponytails, and spare pieces in various colors and lengths. However, she was working against the clock. She’d been late a few other times, and her boss had already given her the serious side-eye on more than one occasion.

  Damn, I need to hit the beauty supply real quick. Continuing to get dressed, scarf wrapped around head, she was soon out the door, heading up to Davison. Passing the White Castle, she decided to get a small coffee to wake her all the way up.

  Searching through her purse for some change, she realized the envelope with the rent money inside of it was missing.

  That good-thieving son of a bitch! Instantly infuriated, Keisha was at a loss for words. She was gonna use some of that money to get herself a wig until she could figure out what to do next with her hair. I gotta go to work. I can’t lose this job. I can’t!

  Marching across the street with a determined attitude, Keisha proudly entered the Korean-owned neighborhood beauty supply like she often did. Unlike most of their hood clientele, Keisha never whined or complained about the prices of the more expensive packs of hair or other products. She just paid with a smile. So, when she headed toward the rear of the store, neither Tommy, the owner, nor Sue followed. The ho-ass house nigga they had guarding the door even remained seated, eating his breakfast. Desperate, without so much as a second thought of what she was about to do, Keisha quickly chose a wig that she thought would suit her, snatched it off the faceless head and stuffed it in her purse. Looking up in the security mirrors, she walked back toward the front, confident no one saw her.

  “You didn’t need any help?” the guy at the door asked when she breezed past.

  “Naw, I’m good. I just wanted to check a price.” When she stepped on the other side of the door, no alarms ringing or buzzers buzzing, she was relieved.

  With his plastic fork in hand, the guy followed her outside. “Hey, since I let you go on that wig back in there, why don’t you let me get your number?”

  “Huh?” Keisha momentarily paused, more than shocked she was busted. “Umm, I don’t think so.”

  “Come on now. I know you don’t think you better than me, do you?”

  “What?” Keisha tried to keep it moving, praying the police were not on their way.

  “Oh, my bad. I guess you just do dogs now and not humans.”

  “What?” She could not believe what he had just said to her.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I saw the video at the dice game that night,” he yelled across the street as she shamefully lowered her head. “You just another cum dumpster from around the way trying to stunt all VIP.”

  * * *

  After using the bathroom inside of the early-morning crowed Coney Island to put on her stolen wig, a mentally drained Keisha bashfully borrowed five dollars from Sam so she could catch the bus to work and back. Claiming she’d left her wallet at home and didn’t have time to return and pick it up, Keisha promised to pay him back later that evening. Having somewhat of a secret crush on her, Sam had no problem whatsoever helping her out.

  Getting on the bus and finding a seat, Keisha pulled out her cell phone. With a cloud of doom seemingly looming overhead, she went down her contact list. Stopping at K, she hit Kim’s number. Needing no more than a shoulder to cry on and a compassionate ear to listen, she called her childhood friend, hoping for both.

  “Hello, Kim?”

  “Oh, hell naw,” Kim smartly replied. “I know you ain’t calling me, stranger! What do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “Kim, please, girl. I need to talk.” Keisha tried not to break down crying, finally hearing her best friend’s voice after a month’s time.

  Cold in tone, Kim asked her the million-dollar question, waiting for the two- million-dollar answer. “Well, did you leave that fool the fuck alone or what?”

  Within a few seconds of dead silence, Keisha finally found the courage to speak. “Umm . . . naw, not totally, but—”

  “Girl, bye.” Kim sucked her teeth loudly before hanging up in Keisha’s face, leaving her to fight back the tears the rest of the way to work.

  Rushing in the building and luckily into an open elevator, Keisha tried her best to dip into the training session with the least commotion as possible. She had msised more than two thirds of the presentation. Her boss, who was sitting near the back door, motioned for her to step out into the hallway. Then he asked her to follow him to his office.

  “Well, Miss Jackson,” he said judgmentally as he sat down behind his desk. “This is the sixth, or is it seventh, time you’ve been over an hour late since you’ve been hired.”

  Stumbling over her words to explain, Keisha promised, if given another chance, she’d not be late again. “Please, sir. I need this job.”

  “To be perfectly honest with you, considering the unemployment rate in Detroit, let alone Michigan, I would think that if our Human Resources Department gave you a chance, you’d try your very best to take advantage of it.”

  Frantic, fearing he was about to terminate her, Keisha stood to her feet. Seductively walking over toward the desk, without warning, she leaned over so he could see her breasts. While his eyes were glued on her cleavage, she took a chance, not knowing how he was going to reac
t, and made her way in front of him. While he was still seated, mesmerized by what the much younger female with the extra-wide ass in the tight-fitting skirt was doing, Keisha dropped to her knees like she had on so many occasions with Rico. Using her teeth, she unzipped her boss’s pants. Before he or she even knew next, the extremely successful company’s CEO was getting an impromptu blow job of a lifetime.

  As his white-shaft, pink-tipped dick tried its best to stiffen and his eyes rolled to the rear of his head, neither he nor Keisha noticed his wife suddenly come into the office. At least twenty years his junior, she bizarrely enough didn’t react how Keisha assumed she would. Obviously a freak herself, she got down on her knees and helped her husband’s employee suck him off. Minutes later, the boss enjoyed the sight of both women on his couch in the sixty-nine position.

  Needless to say, Keisha had the rest of the day off, and her tardiness was overlooked.

  If Rico wanna not come home and fuck everything that hops, jumps, or skips, it’s nothing! Two can play that game! Back in total freak mode, she allowed a random man sitting on the bus to discreetly ease his hand underneath her skirt and finger her until she reached her stop. At this point, Keisha was out there.

  * * *

  It was morning time at Commissioner Jackson’s house, and after a long night, Sandy was beyond tired. In between dealing with both Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, she was exhausted. Normally one of the other people employed there would help her out. After all, she was only supposed to be doing the cooking, like her mom had for so many years till her death. But since Keisha’s abrupt relocation away from the home, Sandy had been doing more than her share. Demanding more privacy than usual, Commissioner Jackson let most of the folk working for him go. Sandy, being there since birth, was the only one he felt he could truly trust. Even though, against his orders, she’d let Keisha inside the house to get some of her personal belongings, Commissioner Jackson knew Sandy wouldn’t have the nerve to really betray him against any outsider.