A Big Girl's Revenge

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Father! My mother is in a hospital, and you’re posted up in the bed with not one, but two other women. I guess I can be thankful at least you had the common courtesy not to do this foolish bullshit in mother’s bed.” Being involved in more than her fair share of threesomes and other sexually promiscuous behavior over the past year, Keisha was the last one to pass judgment, but this was just plain wrong.

  “And Sandy,” she sobbed, looking at the female cowering under the sheets in obvious shame. “How could you do this? My mother trusts you. She loves you, and I love you too. How could you do this to both of us? Oh my God, Sandy, I thought you were my friend. I’m so hurt. How long has this been going on?”

  Keisha eagerly anticipated locking eyes with Sandy. She wanted to hear her explanation of the ultimate betrayal. Her entire being wanted to know how Sandy could be so black-hearted.

  With uncertainty, the corner of the sheet finally lowered. What was once a secret was no more. On this day, all her father’s dirty little exploits would be exposed. It was of no big surprise what Robin’s intentions were. She’d made them disrespectfully clear since day one. But this—this unveiling—almost knocked the emotionally drained daughter off her feet.

  “Keisha, I’m so very sorry. I am your friend. I swear I am. I just got caught up.”

  “Oh my God! Oh my fucking God! This must be some sort of damn nightmare I’m in. I must be dreaming.” Keisha’s eyes grew twice their normal size as she shook with anger, ready to attack once more. “This can’t be real. Oh, hell naw. Kim, how could you? Of all people, how could you do this bullshit?”

  Lowering her head in shame, Kim struggled to find the proper words. She prayed this day would never come. Keisha’s supposed best friend had crossed the line. Clenching the sheet couldn’t conceal the embarrassment. This offense was far worse than sleeping with Rico or a boyfriend. That code was still intact. Kim was sleeping with Keisha’s dad—her mother’s husband.

  “Oh my God, Keisha, I’m so very sorry. I don’t know why. Things just happened. Shit just got outta control. I never planned for it to go this far.” Kim tried pleading her case with her childhood playmate. She knew at this point it was nothing she could say or really do to explain why she was just found in the bed with Mr. Jackson and Robin, yet she knew she had to at least try.

  “Please forgive me, best friend. I’m sorry. I swear I am. Please forgive me. Please! I don’t know why I allowed myself to be involved in this. I swear I know I was wrong.”

  Keisha was livid. She was seeing red. Having been through hell and back over the past year, nothing had prepared her for this shock or pain. Not Rico putting his hands on her countless times as if her life didn’t matter. Not being forced to abandon her family. Not being humiliated by the guy at the beauty supply or asked by A.J. to go down South and be one of his whores. So what everyone had seen a dog have oral sex with her, or she slept with her boss to save her job? It was way too many awful, gut-wrenching occurrences to relive as she stood in a daze.

  Keisha stood motionless, taking in what she was seeing. With a lump in her throat, she wanted to throw up and almost did. The stunning disloyalty of the moment ran through her veins. She felt like someone had savagely socked her in the stomach. Her world was in a shambles. Minute after minute, more and more surprises were being revealed to her.

  The young woman who once had a perfect life couldn’t catch her breath. Feeling the oncoming effects of one of her excruciating migraines, she fought to focus. Keisha turned away, not wanting to actually see what was reality. Her best friend was involved in an outrageous three-way relationship with her father, of all people.

  Finally, she found her voice. “Wow, Kim, so is this why you haven’t wanted to answer any of my phone calls or respond to any of my text messages? Damn, I can’t believe this bullshit. Kim, oh my God, not you of all the females I know. Wow, really.” Unsuccessfully, Keisha tried to run her fingers through her badly tangled weave. “I’m fucked up right now. I can’t lie; this is almost the worst thing that has happened to me in my entire life. Rico was right. My life don’t matter.”

  “Hold up, Keisha. Please wait. I told him about your messages just last night. I swear I did. I promise.” Kim sobbed crocodile tears while attempting to explain her terrible transgressions. “Tell her, Lorenzo. Didn’t I tell you? Please tell her. I’m not lying!”

  “Damn. Wait, Lorenzo?” Keisha barked at Kim calling her father by his first name like they were equals. “Wow, really. But I guess why not, since y’all two, I mean y’all three, is fucking! I guess first names is the order of the day. Shit, while you at it, why don’t you call my father bae or boo?”

  “Listen, will you please both keep your voices down? How many times do I have to tell you that? Are you both insane?” Mr. Jackson once again insisted, thinking about his Republican news reporter neighbor. “People around here don’t want to hear this mess, so stop giving them possible headlines to use against me.”

  “You might need to stop talking to me, you damn rotten-ass cheater,” Keisha forcefully shouted as Robin, now fully dressed, eased the bathroom door open, peeking out. Her mouth was busted. “All three of you aren’t shit! Doing this bullshit to my mother! I swear I’m ready to kill all three of y’all!”

  Wrapping herself in the sheet, Kim stood near the bed. “I know you’re pissed, Keisha, and I’m sorry. I know if it was me, I’d be heated too. I wanted to tell you that night at the Fox Theater when I was there with your father, but I didn’t get a chance.”

  “The concert?” Keisha’s already scattered mind flashed back to the night of the concert. So much drama had taken place that evening it was easy to do—but painful to relive. It dawned on Keisha that that was another reason she hadn’t seen her mother that night. Obviously, it was because her father’s offensive, lying ass was there, out in public low-key with her best friend. “I can’t believe you! This shit been going on that long? Wow, y’all both some real slimeballs.”

  Lowering her head in disgrace, Kim went on with her spontaneous confession. “I was going to tell you the next day, but that idiot sent that video to everybody and, well, you know the rest. It was chaotic from that point on.”

  “Yeah, you right. I guess it was never the appropriate time for my best friend to announce that she was having sex with my damn father.” Keisha had heard and seen just about enough. She was drained. “Whatever. How could you, Kim? You went on vacations with us since we were kids. You spent nights over here all the damn time. My mother treated you like a daughter, just like she did Sandy. Matter of fact, where the hell is Sandy? Do she know about this circus of filth? I know she couldn’t know y’all here in her place!”

  “Okay, Keisha, okay. Calm this tirade down. You’ve proven your point. And don’t worry where Sandy is. She’s not here making a spectacle out of herself like you, so let’s leave it at that.”

  As Mr. Jackson tried to gain control of the explosive emotional situation and do damage control, Robin took the opportunity to dart from the safety of the bathroom. From there, she bolted out the front door. Her next stop, no doubt, the hospital to get X-rays for her possible broken ribs courtesy of Keisha.

  Not wanting to get the same brutal treatment as Robin, Kim nervously held the sheet tight. Completely embarrassed, not knowing what else to say in the way of apologizing to her so-called friend, she just cried. Gathering her clothes, Kim rushed out the door, barefooted, onto the gravel. In the brisk, early-morning air, she opted to get dressed in her car, which was a short distance from the house and Keisha’s obviously well-warranted wrath.

  * * *

  “So, okay, my wicked-mouth offspring. You wanted some attention. You wanted to show out and let everyone know you can fight. Well, now it’s just you and me. Now is your chance.”

  Keisha, who was just as loud as a person could be in that situation, now had a lump in her throat. At a loss for words, instead of a grown woman who’d been through sheer hell the past year, she fel
t like a small child. It was if all the years of downgrading insults were at the forefront. All of her father’s sneers and snickering at her shortcomings were present. She felt meek, not empowered.

  “Yes, Father, it’s just me and you. There is no one left to put on an act for. Now, will you please tell me why you’re doing mother like this? She loves you. She’d never do something this treacherous to you. She doesn’t deserve any of this. And FYI, you’re the one who is wicked!”

  Commissioner Jackson took in all of what his daughter was saying; however, he wasn’t moved, not one bit. In any normal circumstances, he would have to stand mute and accept his scarlet letter. But that humbleness was void. Instead, he flipped the script. He wanted—no, demanded—some answers himself.

  “Look, before we go any further in you grilling me like some low-income, first-year prosecuting attorney, why are you dressed like this, in a Legends Coney Island shirt and a torn skirt? And what’s wrong with that face and hair of yours? You are a disgrace to this family’s name.”

  “A disgrace? Family? Are you serious right now?” Keisha took a deep breath, thankfully realizing she had a right to be heard. “How fucking dare you speak to me like that! As many times as I tried reaching out to you . . .”

  “Lower your damn voice I said.” Mr. Jackson’s expression was cold, as if he were talking to a stranger in the street, not his daughter. “I don’t know why you insist on being so damn disruptive—acting ghetto. You’ve been misbehaving since you were a small child.”

  Keisha tried the best she could to fix herself up, yet at this point, it was what it was. “You can just go easy with the name calling. I’ve had more than enough of that this past year. And stop trying to stall your explanation. I wanna know what your problem is.”

  As he stood there in his loosely hung boxers, Mr. Jackson’s snide laughter filled the room. His condescending, black-hearted stares shook his daughter’s very being, which he took delight in.

  “So, Keisha, did you just meet me or something? When will you learn that I don’t like questions or those that ask them? And if you are attempting to make me feel some sort of guilt or remorse about my actions tonight or any other night, you can just forget about it.”

  “But—” Keisha tried to speak but was cut off.

  “But nothing. And if you’re here to find out about that drunkard, pill-popping mother of yours, then you can just go crawl back in the gutter hole you been living in with that abusive filth you call a man. Matter of fact, where is that lowlife pimp boyfriend of yours? He’s not outside in a stolen car waiting for you to beg me for some spare pocket change, is he?”

  “Father!” Keisha’s feelings were hurt, and it was written all on her face. Not the fact that he’d brought up Rico, who could be in the hospital or dead in the middle of the road, but the fact that he was so mean-spirited and uncompromising on his attitude.

  Dealing with the general public, Commissioner Jackson was known for taking a hard line with issues and had a zero tolerance attitude. Immediately, he saw the weakness in his child’s eyes that was hard to disguise. With no repentance, he took the opportunity to bring her down a few more notches.

  “Look at you. You have the nerve to come in here passing judgment on people, and you look like something the cat dragged in—something that’s been dead underneath the porch for days.” Mr. Jackson gripped up on his manhood like some rebellious teen on the corner talking shit to his homeboys. “My daughter, Keisha Marie Jackson, the biggest hood slut in town. Ain’t that a bitch? I wasted money paying high tuitions at the best schools for nothing. Expensive dermatologist treatments, all those designers clothes and purses you wanted. What a goddamn fucking waste.” His verbal assault continued as the tiny amount of Keisha’s self-esteem Rico left her with, started to crumble.

  “I’m ashamed of you. The entire family is. Why do you think your mother stayed up in that bedroom like a zombie waiting for the devil’s orders? She’d rather die than face the fact her daughter is you!”

  Devastated by his words and accusations, Keisha felt her legs grow weak. What her father was saying, face to face, was far more hurtful than anything Rico had or could have said. Sure, he’d been behaving as if she hadn’t existed for months, but his words never cut so deep.

  Unsteady physically as well as emotionally, Keisha leaned on the nearby dresser for support. “How can you say those awful things, Father? How can you? I wanted to come home so many times.”

  “Yeah, well, the truth of the matter is you didn’t. I guess in between fucking that no-good bum and his four-legged hairy companion you forgot the way, huh?” Mr. Jackson had no shame in how he was making her feel. “And by the looks of your present state, it looks like you just went a few rounds with that animal before you showed up here!”

  Totally defeated, Keisha pleaded, “Father, can you just tell me where Mother is? Please?”

  “I’ll tell you what.” He tilted his head to the side and folded his arms. “I’ll tell you about that sick-in-the-head mother of yours, but the question is how bad you want to know.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I think after all the money I’ve spent over the years on you for what seems like nothing, you owe me!”

  Completely confused as to what the man she’d always respected and looked up to meant, Keisha remained perfectly silent while his spiteful intentions went on.

  “Well, Daddy’s little bad, slutty girl, how bad you want to know?” Commissioner Jackson dropped his arms to his side. Once again, he then used his hand to move his now hardening dick to the side of his boxers. “And you might want to hurry up with your answer. The last I checked, your mother was damn near coughing up a lung. She’s probably taking her last breaths in a dark hospital room by herself as we speak. So, what’s it gonna be?”

  No stranger to men and what that meant, Keisha was dumbfounded. What her own father, of all people, was suggesting, was uglier than any nightmare or thought she could ever think of. Pure hell. If what he was saying was indeed true, her mother could be minutes, maybe seconds, away from dying. Dealing with Rico, she’d done plenty of downright ridiculous, degrading, and scandalous things sexually to please him as well as herself, but this—her own father—sucking his dick would top them all.

  “Father, you can’t be serious. Have you lost your mind altogether? I don’t know who you are anymore. Do you hear yourself? Do you even realize what you’re asking?”

  “Come on now, Keisha, I know you haven’t forgotten the special times we used to have in your bedroom when your dear old mother was passed out.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Keisha started experiencing the worst migraine she’d ever had. The more she looked into her father’s dark, cold eyes, the more confusing childhood memories flashed in her already tormented mind. Fighting the pain of what incestuous actions he was eluding to, she pleaded one last time.

  “Please, Father. The article in the paper didn’t say. Please. I’m begging!”

  Looking at his watch, a self-righteous Mr. Jackson took his stiff dick out his boxers. “Okay now, Keisha, I already told you, your mother is probably taking her last breath right now, and you here negotiating about what you do best,” he remarked casually, as if his wife’s impending death didn’t matter one bit to him. “The best place for you to be is on your knees, pleading for my forgiveness. And guess what? If you do a good job, Daddy might let you come back home. You do wanna come back home, don’t you?”

  Keisha considered her few options and the high stakes at hand. First and foremost, she’d give anything in the world to see her mother, who was once so proud of her, possibly one last time and let her know how terribly sorry she was for all the grief she’d caused her over the past year. And secondly, the harsh reality was, she was broke and fucking homeless. If that jackass Rico did survive being hit by the cab, going back to him and his overly abusive ways was completely and totally out of the question. Keisha desperately felt she had no choice. Her back was
against the wall. Her father, as usual, was the winner. Sick to her stomach, Keisha’s inner soul ached as she eased over toward him, dropping to her knees.

  Chapter Twenty

  When I find that good-for-nothing thot, I’ma beat her like she stole something. Her ass got me out here early as hell on some dummy mission looking for her. The damn sun ain’t even up, and a nigga tired as shit. I swear I’ma stump a mud hole off into Keisha’s fat ass.

  Rico had just left out of the restaurant after speaking to Sam. After finding out his sexual meal ticket was not inside, he’d given the Middle Eastern owner a disrespectful earful. Rico had not only referred to Keisha as everything vile he could think of, but he confessed some of his dark secrets as well. As if he were a soldier on guard duty, Rico marched throughout the dimly lit area back and forth. Hell bent on making his supposed woman pay for the offense of finally standing up for herself, each step he took was filled with malicious intent.

  I know I should have never let that bitch outta my sight. I should’ve never let her get a damn job. A nigga like me should’ve kept the ho slanging that pussy at the crib. As soon as she gets out and talking to these motherfuckers, she wanna get cocky. She wanna start with all that Oprah, I-am-woman empowerment bullshit. Well, fuck Oprah, Keisha, and the next ho out in these streets. If a bitch gonna fuck with me, she gonna come all the way correct and bow down. A bitch gonna submit or get her ass handed to her.

  Caught up deep in his feelings of superiority, Rico came out of the gas station, shaking his head. Sam had not seen his girl, and neither had Hassan. Twisting the tiny top off the bottle of Visine he’d just got on credit, Rico picked up his pace in search of Keisha. He wanted revenge for the stunt she’d pulled and wasn’t going to rest until he checked behind every dumpster and under every parked car. He realized it had taken him a few minutes to get himself almost back together back at the house, but she couldn’t have gotten that far. Keisha was book smart, but definitely not street smart, no matter how much he’d tried to train her.