Relapse: A Novel (9 page)

“I just can’t believe you are addicted to that shit. That shit is disgusting and it makes you look bad. Dude, you ain’t even aware of your surroundings.”

“One thing for certain,” Don reasoned, “you may be on the other side of the fence one day.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she shouted and went into the bedroom to gather some of her things up, throwing everything that would fit into her overnight bag.

“Yes, you will.” He took another sniff. “You gonna need something to lean on one day. Believe that shit! Everybody needs something to escape at times.”

“You got me mixed up with one of dem hoes or one of your groupies!” She was going to start in on him, but she realized that the only important thing was getting him help before he really hurt himself. “Real talk, Don, you really need to go to rehab!”

“I’ll wait until the day come when we can go together,” he sarcastically said to her.

Beijing was so pissed off, she stormed out of the house without even realizing that she’d forgotten her purse. The car door was unlocked so she put her bags in before returning to the house. When she stormed back in to get her Gucci bag, she saw that the bathroom door was now slightly ajar. She couldn’t resist peeping through the opening.

“I can’t believe this shit,” she murmured.

Don was still in the bathroom sitting on the toilet, pants all the way to his ankles, but what she couldn’t believe—or didn’t want to believe—was that he was sitting on the porcelain throne with yet another lit Newport stuck in his mouth, and he was semiconscious
at best. Somewhere in his mind he was wrestling with the heroin, and the drug must have been winning. The drug must have finally pinned him down to the proverbial mat because—
Bam—
a loud noise arose when he fell off his throne, passed out.

Beijing rushed in and put out the cigarette from his mouth for the second time that day. “This shit is fucking over. You can kill yourself on your time, but not on my fucking watch.” She
knew
he was in no condition to understand but she had to get it off her chest. “I’m done, finished, out of here. I refuse to let you take me down that road with you—willingly or unwillingly. Audi 5000!”

Beijing took one last look at the man she thought could possibly have been the man of her life before making her final decision.

She recited the words at the top of her lungs as she wrote them out in her mocha lipstick on the mirror:
Good-bye, Don. Holla back when you get to rehab!

Then she walked not only out of the room but out of the house and out of his life.

Don called Beijing later on that same night, but she didn’t want to hear any of his lame excuses. After answering her phone, she screamed, “Don’t fucking call me back until you carry your junkie ass to rehab.”

Beijing missed the hell out of Don. It had been two weeks, three days, and four hours since she left him OD’d on the bathroom floor. When he wasn’t high, Don was one of the most fun and loving people she had ever been around. Before the breakup, he would call her from six to sixty-six times a day to keep her up on his every move as well as tell her all the breaking news around the world. But Beijing knew that she did not want to get caught up in his madness. She thought about what the old folks would always say:
The best cure for the ex is the next!

Beijing had to do something to get her phone ringing again and get her mind off Don or she would drive herself crazy.

“Girl, why you so quiet,” her girlfriend Rayna asked Beijing over the phone. They had been friends for a little over two years and talked about everything and everybody.

Rayna and Beijing met at self-defense class. Beijing’s father had convinced her that the class would be a good way for her to
learn to protect herself since she was traveling around the country by herself. Rayna was there trying to shed both a few pounds and her frustrations.

The cardio that the instructor put the class through was such an intensive workout that it kept Beijing’s body in tip-top shape. However, Rayna was a different story. Rayna was a brown-skinned girl who rocked a short Halle Berry haircut, and though she appeared to be very confident and have it all together, the truth was that she was obsessed with losing weight and had tried anything and everything from B12 shots to Slim-Fast, Fen-Phen, and any and every other kind of diet and diet pills. Rayna had even gotten liposuction a couple of times, and while the results were fabulous it didn’t fix her issue. Her problem was that she loved good greasy food, and especially junk food, and would eat it in excess, knowing that it was bad for her health and her waistline.

“No reason.” Beijing lied as she used her shoulder to hold the cordless phone while she opened up the curtains in her hotel room, which she had made her home, to let some sun into both her suite at the Tabby and her life.

“Tell that nonsense to somebody that don’t know any better,” Rayna shot back.

Beijing admired the Charlotte skyline through the window. “You think you know me so well.” She smiled as she quickly became bored with the view, picking up her cell phone off the nightstand. Beijing pushed the button that brought up her contacts while she listened to Rayna invade her business.

“I do—” Rayna paused. “—too well. You thinking about that damn Don, huh?”

“Nope, actually I’m trying to find someone to get my mind off Don.”

“What about Larry Love?”

“Hell naw.” Beijing sucked her teeth and twisted her face up like a foul odor had assaulted her nostrils. “Now, how does that
sound? If I am trying to get my mind off a damn near double-platinum rapper, why would you think a wannabe rapper would be a sufficient substitute?”

“You right.” Rayna chuckled at herself. “Especially one that has never done as much as a high school talent show.” They both laughed.

Beijing continued to scroll through her contacts list, and she wasn’t coming up with anything.

“Girl,” Rayna said, breaking the silence, “I know somebody you should call.”

“Who?” Beijing asked, not quite enthusiastic, since Rayna wasn’t the best at relationships herself. Her baby’s father had dragged her through the mud and back again. They had a dysfunctional relationship that centered on money. They hustled together by all means necessary: ride or die, hook or crook, lie, cheat, beg, borrow, or steal. If it could get got, then it was good as gone as far as those two were concerned. When the relationship was good, it was very good, and they were Bonnie and Clyde at their best. But when it was bad it was the War of the Roses. Though Beijing didn’t know all the details of Rayna and York’s relationship, she knew that it was tumultuous.

“The dude from the fight,” Rayna added. “Tell me you still got his number.”

“What guy?”

“The guy who had you all googley-eyed when he tried to put his mack down on you at the fight.”

Beijing laughed out loud. She would have been lying if she said she hadn’t felt the attraction when the guy spoke to her. But the truth was that it was a really great idea, and Beijing knew that she had his number buried in her wallet somewhere.

“Girl, I’m serious, if York didn’t have me under ball and chain, I would have tackled his ass. Promise me you are going to at least call him.”

“It’s been a long time since that fight, though, almost a year. He probably don’t even remember.”

“Trust me, girl, the way he was eyeing you, you are tattooed on that dude’s brain. And if he has amnesia, you make him remember.”

Still a little unsure, Beijing said, “I hear you but still, I don’t know about this.”

“Gurl, just call him. I know he will remember,” Rayna assured her friend. “I am not saying that you have to marry him or anything. I’m saying that he’s someone to get your mind off what’s-his-name.” She promised Rayna that she would.

Beijing felt reluctant about calling Lootchee. As she stood looking out the window, sipping on a glass of wine, her phone rang.

“Good afternoon.”

“Yes, my name is Macy-Rae and I am calling on behalf of Mr. Teflon the Don.”

“Yes, is everything all right?” Beijing asked, concerned. She thought that this might be someone calling from a drug treatment program.

“Yes everything is fine. In fact, it’s wonderful, marvelous, and life couldn’t be better for him or me.”

“Oh great, I’m so happy for him.” She wasn’t sure what the woman was talking about and paused as she thought about the last time she’d seen Don.

“Ain’t no need for all the small talk; we ain’t friends nor am I interested in trying to be your friend,” Macy-Rae said, cutting through all the pleasantries. “I just need to figure out how I can meet up with you or give you an address so I can get all of his paperwork and personal documents from you since he don’t fuck with
you
anymore.”

Beijing was stunned at the angry woman on the other end of the phone. For a split second she was tougue-tied, and Macy-Rae
knew it too. Before Beijing could respond, Macy-Rae added, “Yeah, we thank you and appreciate you for the deal and all, but it is what it is. You are old news and I’m the headline in Don’s life.”

Beijing had no idea why this chick felt it necessary to call her talking smack, but she did know that she wasn’t in the mood for it. “I’d rather be old news than an old ho any day,” she shot back.

“Bitch, you don’t understand who the hell you fucking with. While you calling me a ho, I’ll whip your mother … fucking ass,” Macy-Rae screamed into the phone.

“Are you serious?” Beijing laughed.

“Dead-ass serious, bitch! Keep playing with me. I’ll beat you down and then drag yo’ ass like a mop.”

“Now, that is funny. I’d like to see that day.” Beijing was roaring in laughter. “Hell, I’ll pay to see that day,” she taunted.

Most of the time Beijing could find humor in everything, but not this day. After dealing with her psychotic mother her entire life and her crackhead sister’s bullshit for many years, dealing with very high-strung, demanding clients was a breeze—that’s what made her so good at her job. And the times she felt like things were too out in left field—crazier than normal—she would just try to laugh it off.

“You better watch yo’ back,” Macy-Rae warned.

“Look here, Ms. Whatever-the-fuck-your-name-is. I’m a busy lady and I don’t have the time or inclination to play with little girls who swallow cum for a living.” Beijing had had enough of the foolishness. “So until you get that dick out of yo’ mouth and talk like someone with some sense … take Michael Jackson’s advice and beat it, bitch!” And then Beijing ended the call.

After that heated discussion, Beijing was ready to call Lootchee. She hesitated, holding the phone in her hand for several seconds. Then it rang again, from a 215 number she didn’t recognize. Philly, she thought to herself. She answered, “Hello.”

“By the way, bitch, Don said that yo’ ass is F-I-R-E-D! Your services are no longer needed, beyotch!”

“Yes, honey, but I still get paid my fifteen percent, that’s indefinite, baby girl. So you enjoy working for free while I reap the benefits, boo.” Beijing hit
END
on her cell phone. That was enough motivation to finally make her put in the call to Lootchee.

Roy was six foot two, light-skinned, with wavy black hair. Though he lived a life of luxury, he’d never worked a real job a day in his life. And the only thing smoother than his baby-bottom-soft hands was his rap. He was a true ladies’ man, and he made sure that they paid to play—usually big bucks, no whammies.

Roy had met Gia a little over six months ago, and surprisingly he hadn’t been with anyone else since he’d bagged her. Why would he? Gia was everything he needed in a girl. At twenty-five she had her own beauty salon, her beauty and body were off the chain, and she had a rich brother who adored her and gave her anything that her heart desired. If she thought it, her brother bought it, which was even better for him, because after the brother gave her everything there was only one thing left to give her: wood.

From time to time Gia would get straight disrespectful out of her mouth, but that was nothing Roy couldn’t deal with. In fact
most of the time her quick wit and sharp tongue were kind of cute, but on the rare occasion that Gia did pluck his last nerve, he quickly shut her down with a slap or two. In his eyes it was nothing that she didn’t have coming. Afterward he would sex her down real good—not forgetting to lick her clit a little longer than usual while telling her how sorry he was for having to hit her. “You know you brought that shit on yourself,” he’d tell her. Not counting the beat-down he gave her last night, he only had to put his pimp hand down twice, so things couldn’t be better for him. Roy had been in Gia’s ear for months to persuade her to convince her brother to put him down. Roy wasn’t sure what her big brother was into but he knew that it was something heavy—and that bro had money out the ying-yang. Just judging by the money he gave Gia, it seemed like his bank account was big enough to choke a horse.