A Big Girl's Revenge

by Ms. Michel Moore

  Tilting his head backward, he kept it moving as he lifted the small plastic red-eye relief. Using his right index finger, he slightly pulled down on his lower left lid area. With two quick squeezes, the cool-feeling liquid filled one eye. Head still tilted backward, Rico blinked, allowing the Visine to do its job.

  Before he could wipe away the excess fluid that was dripping down his cheek, Rico was abruptly knocked off his feet. Before the evil-minded tyrant knew what was taking place, his body was snatched onto the ground. Whatever the source of the impact, he was now on the concrete pavement being dragged a few yards. By the time the unannounced drama ended, Rico felt the heaviness of what he would soon discover was a vehicle rolling over his lower body.

  Urgg, what in the fuck? What just happened? Shit! What the fuck!

  In a mere matter of seconds, Rico went from searching the parking lots and back alleyways for Keisha to being sprawled out in the middle of the street. In an enormous amount of pain, his eyes being red from the chemical-based spray was the least of his problems.

  My fucking leg! What happened? My stomach! Fuck!

  He was dazed and disoriented. Not paying attention to where he was walking had just gotten him hit by a cab. With the wind knocked out of him, he struggled to speak as he felt the heat radiating from the bottom of the vehicle. Ironically, he started to shiver. Chill bumps covered his injured body. This was more pain than he’d ever experienced since birth. Growing up in the hood, an average kid, teen, or grown-up, was subject to just about anything going wrong to make them suffer physically. However, God or the devil had spared Rico from this unplanned agony—until now.

  What in the entire fuck just happened? Why I am so fucking cold? Urgg, my damn back.

  As his mind tried to overtake the pain to focus, he couldn’t. His lips couldn’t seem to form words as two pairs of feet neared him.

  “Oh my, oh my. I’m so very sorry. But I didn’t see you. You came from nowhere. Why you not look?”

  Rico then realized he had been run over. He’d actually been struck. It was coming back to him—he was just walking, putting that shit in his eyes, then bam! Infuriated, he wanted to leap to his feet and fight the driver for what was an accident, but he couldn’t move his legs.

  “Nigga!” he yelled out to the Middle Eastern driver. “You got my shit all fucked up.”

  “Please, please, young man. I’m so very sorry. I didn’t see you. I swear I didn’t. I’m calling you an ambulance right now.”

  Rico wanted to reply but couldn’t. Small amounts of blood started to fill his mouth. Seconds later, he was gagging, choking, and struggling to breathe. As the pure blood turned into a thick mucus mixture, Rico’s tongue started to swell. Just as he thought his pain and rage could not grow anymore, the bad-boy tyrant saw another pair of feet approaching. In the midst of all that was taking place, he locked eyes with Keisha. Now more than ever he wanted to speak. Being run over by a cab hadn’t magically changed who he was. He wanted to tell her about herself and warn her that her ass was kicked as soon as he could manage to get up.

  Here this stankin’, no-good fat bitch is. I wish I could just smack the dog shit outta her. It’s her damn fault I’m out here in this street fucked up in the first place. If she would’ve just bossed up and took all this dick and the ass-kicking that went along with it, shit would’ve been Gucci. But naw. That was too much like right. She wanted to get all up on her high horse. Shit! Damn! Fuck, my legs is numb and my stomach is burning like they on damn fire!

  Rico felt emotional and physical damage just as he had made Keisha feel since she became his so-called woman. He was already plotting his revenge for her early-morning defiance.

  Now here this bitch come. Probably trying to kiss a nigga ass and apologize. Ole miserable, worthless ho. I’ma make her pay for this bullshit.

  Keisha stood towering over Rico. Caught up in her feelings, she took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. After all she’d been through back at the house and all she’d overheard him just say inside of the restaurant, this was it. This would be Keisha’s day of reckoning. Here Rico was, laid out in the middle of the street, obviously too injured to move. Without further hesitation, she bent down.

  Rico’s reddened eyes widened. Now only inches away from his face, she had her say. After calling him out for the piece of filth and waste of skin he was, Keisha spit in his face before kicking him on the sly. Rico lay there, helpless, with his eyes wide open to see Keisha stroll slowly away.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the ambulance finally arrived. Upon getting placed in the back of the flashing-light rig, Rico saw Sam and a few more neighborhood folks standing around, no doubt judging him by the looks plastered on their faces. If he wasn’t busy throwing up his own blood and in a huge amount of unbearable pain, he would have shouted out for all of them to suck his dick.

  * * *

  The bright lights in the triage area seemed to burn Rico’s eyes. Each time he found the strength to crack them open, tears poured out. The once self-proclaimed hood warrior and Casanova was drifting in and out of consciousness. He was mumbling a few words that sounded as if he were speaking in tongues. Having his clothes cut from his body, he could only lay there and pray to the devil who he seemingly worshipped. With needles being shoved into his veins to draw his blood, IV bags being hung and blankets rolled around to stabilize his legs, Rico was ready to surrender his will to live. Even with the strong meds they immediately pumped into his system, no relief was seemingly near. If he could speak, Rico wanted to beg them to just let him die. Right before he passed back out, Rico heard one of the nurses ask if he had a wallet on him so they could contact his next of kin.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Having just seen Kim wrapped in a bed sheet, parked over on the side of the road getting dressed seemed surreal. Pulling over herself, she didn’t know what to expect in the way of an explanation. Sandy couldn’t believe when Keisha’s supposed friend horribly confessed to her what had just taken place back at the gatehouse and how long the mind-boggling affair had been taking place. The closer she got to the estate, the more Sandy could feel her heart beat at a rapid pace, not knowing what was going to happen next.

  Holding the steering wheel as steady as she could with sweaty palms and shaking fingers, Sandy turned into the circular driveway. Bringing the car to a screeching halt, the now-ex-chef to the Jackson family jumped out of her vehicle, leaving the engine running and the driver’s door wide open.

  “That’s right, daddy’s little bitch. Close those eyes and open up. Suck me off like you’ve been doing Rico all these months. Show me some of that wild passion you had for that dog.”

  Hearing Mr. Jackson’s brass-toned voice echo from the rear of the small gatehouse, Sandy knew he and Keisha were in the bedroom. Rushing toward the room she’d slept in since a child, Sandy was overwhelmed with disbelief, finding Keisha submissively on her knees in front of her half-naked father.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind altogether? What in the hell!” Sandy snatched Keisha up by her forearm, practically throwing her across the room, landing her on the floor.

  Directing her rage at Mr. Jackson, Sandy held no punches. “How low will you sink? This doesn’t make any kind of sense! You’re a fucking animal! You need to be locked under the damn jail!”

  Mr. Jackson’s manhood started to shrink as he slid it back inside his dark-colored boxers. “Just what are you doing here, Sandy? Didn’t I fire you?”

  “Fired?” Keisha puzzled from the floor while thanking God for Sandy coming to her rescue.

  “Yes, Keisha, this bastard that calls his self a man—a father, a husband—had the nerve to not only fire me, but allow his wife to slowly kill herself.”

  “Bastard?” Mr. Jackson laughed at her choice of words.

  “What?” Keisha rose to her feet, overlooking her father’s callous attempt at sarcasm. “Sandy, where is my mother at? Please tell me you know. Please!”

  Infuriated by the lewd act s
he was fortunate enough to interrupt, Sandy gave Keisha the answer for which she was willing to sacrifice the last bit of morals and dignity she had to offer in exchange.

  As the two embraced, Sandy informed Keisha that no matter what, she would not see her out in the street. Having saved the majority of her wages throughout the years, Sandy wasn’t rich, but she was a far stretch from being destitute.

  “Keisha, please don’t worry. You don’t have to be beholden to any man, especially him,” Sandy snarled at her ex-boss.

  Seeing firsthand that the strong reign he’d held over the years at his household was slipping away, Commissioner Jackson went berserk. “Sandy, just who in the fuck do you think you are, trying to come in between me and my daughter? After all I’ve done for your ungrateful ass.”

  “Ungrateful? Nigga, please! You should be in jail just like the fuck I said. But instead, you’ve got everybody in and around the county thinking you this high and morally correct individual ,and you ain’t shit but a full-grown snake.”

  “Shut your damn mouth.”

  “Naw, shut your fucking mouth. It’s been enough silence and secrets around here for two or three lifetimes.”

  “You little bastard.”

  “There goes that word again.” Sandy stood tall, with contempt in her tone. “So, I’m a little bastard, huh?”

  “They say God don’t make mistakes, but you—” Mr. Jackson had the look of the devil in his eyes. “I’m glad your mother isn’t here to see the little smart-talking, disobeying ratchet tramp you’ve become.” He shook his head, smirking at the thought. “You think I don’t know about you sneaking Calvin in here those late nights, giving him that worn-out pussy? I know every fucking thing that goes on around here.”

  “All of the different women you’ve had throughout the years, cheating on your wife, you’ve got a lot of nerve talking about me, or anyone else, for that matter. You sick in the head.”

  “Me? Sick?” he mocked, ready to slap Sandy into acting right. “How dare you?”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself. Mrs. Jackson is lying in the hospital bed with full-blown AIDS, and you still out here fucking the next bitch. Or should I say bitches? All without condoms, knowing you.”

  “AIDS? Yeah, right.” He quickly dismissed his wife’s shocking condition as just Sandy trying to scare him.

  “You heard me! AIDS—full blown, the doctors said after you and that self-serving opportunist Robin left the hospital. And if she, Keisha’s so-called friend Kim, and the rest of the young dumb females you sneak around town with know like I know, they better get tested.”

  “Like I said, Sandy, your mother is probably in hell burning extra hard for who and what you are: a bald-faced liar! But guess what? One thing for sure, two things for certain—your mother was one of the dumbest whores I knew, but the trick could scramble a mean egg or two. That’s besides sucking good dick.”

  Running up to him, Sandy raised her hand, bringing it down across her boss’s face. “Don’t you say shit about my mother. Not shit! You ruined her life—our life!”

  “Me? Ruined her life? Are you serious, or are you on the same prescription drugs as that one over there’s mother?”

  Keisha had heard enough. As far as she was concerned, Sandy and her disrespectful, predatory father could argue about the past all day and half into the night. She just wanted to get to her sick mother’s bedside as soon as possible.

  “Stop it! Stop it! All I want to know is where is Mom at?”

  Mr. Jackson dismissed Keisha’s words and kept in on Sandy. “I don’t know why I’ve kept you around here as long as I have. I knew from day one you were going to be trouble. But I was trying to be nice—trying to do the right thing.”

  “You no-good motherfucker. Trying to be nice? Trying to do the right thing?” Sandy screamed the words she’d wanted to say for years but was forbidden to even whisper in the dark. “You kept me around because I’m your damn daughter! Your first born!”

  “Daughter!” Keisha shockingly yelled to the two of them. “What you mean, daughter? Sandy, what are you talking about? What are you both talking about?”

  “What in the entire hell? You stupid bitch. You dumb little stupid bitch.” Mr. Jackson started quickly putting on his clothes so he could get Sandy out the door and off his property before she did any more damage to his already tarnished reputation.

  The big, dark family secret was now on the table. It was no more trying to tiptoe around facts. No more of making up stories to cover the awful shame that dwelled in the walls of the once seemingly normal dwelling. Enough was enough.

  No longer holding back the truth, Sandy decided it was time to be completely honest with Keisha. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the drama she knew that was sure to follow.

  “I don’t know how to say this, and after all the years I’ve practiced, it’s still hard. I didn’t want you to find out like this. I swear I didn’t.”

  “Okay, and . . . ”

  “At this point, it’s no easy way to put this, Keisha, but just I’ll say it. Your father has been sleeping around on your mother for years. Matter of fact, more damn years than I can care to even remember. Let me just say Robin and Kim aren’t the first, Keisha. They are not the second or even the third or fourth. There has been what seems like hundreds of random females this no-good monster has flaunted practically in Mrs. Jackson’s face. Well, maybe not hundreds, but damn near close to it.”

  “I get all of that, Sandy. He ain’t jack shit. But you said daughter. I heard you.” Keisha was baffled. Her mind was spinning, not knowing what she’d hear next. “What did you mean? Why did you say that?”

  “This no-good piece of trash raped my mother, Keisha,” Sandy sadly revealed, answering the million-dollar question of the evening. “When she was young, he raped her. This rotten-intentioned monster knew she didn’t have any family to turn to. He knew she was out here in the world alone, so to satisfy his own needs, he kept raping her until she got pregnant with me.”

  “Shut your fucking pie hole, you damn slut. You just like your no-good mother, running off at the mouth and don’t know when to close it.” Mr. Jackson raged at hearing his awful past thrown up in his face. Wasting no time, he started with the blame game and his own accusations to try to justify his horrid actions.

  “Now, first of all, you need to get your story and facts straight. I didn’t rape that little ghetto-breed slut.”

  “What? Have you lost your entire mind?” Sandy swiftly protested, ready to do battle to protect her deceased mother’s character.

  “Shut up, you ungrateful bitch! You wasn’t here to know what happened way back then. That hotbox girl ran around here in those tiny, tight skirts, bending over, trying to be seen. So out of pity, I did her a favor and noticed her.” He laughed, having a momentary flashback. “That good-slaving dead bitch wanted every inch of this dick I gave to her. Old Deep Throat was happy carrying my baby,” he proudly announced as if it were a badge of honor. “I did her a favor. I gave her and you a roof over your heads, no charge. And look at you standing here running off at the mouth!”

  “You damn no-good pedophile rapist! How dare you speak about my deceased mother like that? You need to be stopped. Matter of fact, you need to be behind bars somewhere until you rot!” Sandy balled her fists tightly. With the heart of a lion, she began to swing. Twice delivering blows to his chest, she finally hit her mark, making contact with his jaw.

  Mr. Jackson ultimately had enough. Swiftly, he retaliated, all the while smirking with satisfaction. Snatching Sandy up by the collar of her blouse, he swung her around the room, tossing her from one side to the other. he let her feel his power as a man that was still intact despite his age.

  “Stop it! Stop it! Oh my God, stop it,” Keisha once again begged, trying to intervene before being knocked off her feet and onto the floor.

  In amazement that Sandy was in fact her sister and not just the family chef, Keisha didn’t know what to do next or who t
o help as the two did battle—her father, who once loved her but had just made her perform oral sex on him, or her newly discovered sister, Sandy, who’d always showed her love.

  “This is too much! This is crazy! Stop it! Stop it! Take your hands off her! Father, no! Please, noooo! You’re hurting her!”

  Despite her father’s pleas to keep the noise down, the time for being silent was no more. He was doing and had been doing more than enough to scream about. Keisha’s passionate cries of mercy could soon be heard in the early-morning calmness that surrounded the gated community. She stood helpless. It was as if her father had transformed into some sort of heinous monster right before her very eyes. Watching his strong hands practically squeeze the life from Sandy’s body, his apparent illegitimate daughter, Keisha felt another sharp pain engulf the right rear portion of her head.

  Overwhelmed and confused with what to do next to stop his attack, Keisha grabbed one of her childhood spelling bee trophies that Sandy always strangely cherished. Clutching it in her hands, she cried out for him to take his fingers from around Sandy’s throat. Quickly, it became apparent her father was not listening to her pleas. With all her force, she vindictively sent it crashing down on their father’s head. She repeated the heartfelt motion several times, until his blood started to spill from the huge gash in his head and onto the carpet. With hatred for Rico and every other man that had deceived, fucked her over, or just plain told a white lie, Keisha felt empowered, relieved, and justified. Her best friend Kim’s betrayal, along with the tragic fact that Sandy revealed her mother had AIDS, was only fueling her violent rage against her father.

  With the now-broken trophy still in her hand swinging, Keisha had snapped. She was out of her mind. Forcefully, she had to be stopped by her neighbor from across the street. Thank God, he had been outside walking his dog and had overheard the loud commotion from the rear gatehouse. Ironically, he was the one who’d written the newspaper article about her mother being transported to the hospital. By nature of his profession, the nosey reporter had stood at the doorway for a few moments, listening to the sordid family turmoil before finally feeling the need to come in and halt what sounded like a life-or-death confrontation. Thank God he did enter the premises, because he was able to not only bear witness to what he had heard but what he’d seen with his own eyes.