Authors: Carl Weber
Tags: #Fiction / African American - Contemporary Women, #Fiction / Contemporary Women, #Fiction / African American - General
“What do I do now?” he asked.
“Let me try,” I said, taking the mouse from him. I saw an icon on the desktop that was marked
BLOG.
I’d done enough snooping around on my kids’ computer to know that a blog was the closest thing to a diary nowadays. It was the best place for Ben to find out what was really going on in his son’s head. I clicked on the icon.
A page appeared on the screen and we both began to read.
Every day my feelings are getting stronger. I can hardly keep my eyes off of him when we play basketball. Sooner or later one of us is going to have to make a move. Maybe I should
have done it the other day when we were watching a movie together. I won’t let any other opportunities pass me by…
Ben made a sound like a roar. “What the fuck? He’s trying to turn my son gay!”
I was already regretting the fact that I’d opened that blog for him, and I only felt worse when he picked up the computer screen and smashed it to the floor. Then he picked up the tower and did the same. I let out a scream but stood there speechless. I’d never seen this side of him before.
“I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.” Ben went into his bedroom and threw on some clothes; then he charged toward the hallway like a raging bull.
“Wait! I’m going with you.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know where Ben was heading. I couldn’t blame him for being pissed, but I didn’t want him doing anything that would get him locked up.
I was right on Ben’s heels as he made a beeline to Daryl’s apartment and started pounding on the door. “Son of a bitch! Open this fuckin’ door!” Lucky for Daryl, he opened the door before Ben kicked it in.
Ben started in immediately. “You son of a bitch, running around this place like you’re God’s gift to the world. You are not going to do this to my son, you pervert!”
In spite of Ben’s rage, Daryl stayed pretty calm. “Uh, look, man,” he said. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you better take a step back, brother.”
“You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you? You bastard!” Ben was trembling as if it was taking everything in him not to put his hands on Daryl. I just prayed that he could contain himself, because once he got started, he’d kill Daryl or maybe get himself killed.
“Yo, you need to calm down,” Daryl said. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“You calm the fuck down! I knew you were gonna be a bad influence on my son, but I had no idea you were such a perverted bastard, trying to turn him gay.”
I heard locks clicking and doors opening and turned to see Connie and a couple other third-floor residents looking at the scene going down. Usually I was the one up in everyone else’s business, but now I sure wished those nosy fuckers would mind their own. They were hanging onto every word like they were watching a damn soap opera. Ben continued screaming like there was no one else around but him and Daryl.
Finally Daryl put his hand up to stop Ben’s tirade. He said, “Now I see what this is about.” He looked like he actually felt bad for Ben. “Look, you’re obviously having a hard time accepting your son’s sexuality, but I’m telling you, it’s not my fault your son is gay.”
“My son is not gay! He’s confused, and it’s all because of you!”
“Ben, your son is gay. You’re going to have to accept that sooner or later.”
“You son of a bitch! You told him I was gay?” Benny’s voice had come out of nowhere.
Ben and Daryl both fell silent, and I turned to see Benny stepping off the elevator, looking at Daryl with fire in his eyes. “I can’t believe you. You call yourself my friend, and then you out me to my pops and half the building without even talking to me about it?”
That’s when I knew the shit was really about to hit the fan.
It was a little after noon when I finally dragged my ass out of bed and into the bathroom. Slim had said he’d be home a little after three, and he made it clear he wanted our apartment clean when he walked through the door, so I figured I’d better get started. The last thing I wanted was for him to do to my right eye what he’d already done to my left.
Thank goodness the swelling had gone down and all I had left was a black mark under my eye. I still couldn’t believe he’d done this to my face. Most people would say I should have bolted right after he made it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any more of my shit with Daryl—and right before he took out his frustration on my face—but I didn’t see leaving as an option. Either I could take the well-deserved ass whipping and pray things got better or be out on the street, homeless with a habit. As far as I was concerned, that was a fate far worse than death. So I chose to take the ass whipping and all the BS that came with it with one concession: It didn’t matter how much he hit me as long as I had my little blue boxes to take away the pain. Slim, for whatever reason, was glad to oblige my request.
On the counter next to the sink, I saw that Slim had left a box on top of my makeup bag. It was smaller than normal, but it was enough to get the job done until he came home. Slim had been making the boxes smaller lately in order to control my use, therefore controlling me. I went to move it so I could get out my concealer and hide my bruise, but having the box in my hands was enough to get my juices flowing. I was so ready for that first toot of the day. It was always the best. Putting on makeup could wait.
Unfortunately before I could get the top off the box and enter my own personal heaven, there was a knock at the front door.
“Who is it?” I snapped when I got into the living room, not bothering to look out the peephole.
“It’s me, Krystal. Open up.”
Dammit. As if I wasn’t already in a funk, hearing Connie’s voice only made me feel worse. Stupid bitch probably wanted to rub it in my face that she was screwing Daryl. She was the last person I felt like dealing with, especially when I was itching to get a hit.
I looked out of the peephole and saw her fat face looking all anxious. “What the hell do you want?” I yelled through the closed door. I had much better things to do with my time than talk to my stepmonster. I wanted this bitch to go away in a hurry.
“Krystal, open the door. It’s about your father.” She was known for being a drama queen, but there was something in the urgency of her tone that told me I’d better hear what she had to say.
“You better not be wasting my time,” I told her as I opened the door. “What do you need to tell me about my father?”
As soon as she saw me, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness, your eye! Slim didn’t do that to you, did he?” She actually sounded concerned.
I guess I should have put that concealer on before opening the door. It wasn’t that I really cared what Connie thought, but I didn’t need her telling the whole building that Slim hit me. “If it’s any of your business, I hit my eye on a doorknob. Now get to talking so you can go on about your business and get out my face.”
Glancing down at my hand, she saw the blue box. She shook her head, looking like she wanted to say something, but I gave her a scowl that let her know she’d be wasting her breath.
“Get to the point,” I said.
“Krystal, the police were at my place today…”
I practically jumped down her throat. “Bitch, I know you didn’t call the cops on my father, ’cause if you did—”
She stopped me. “No, but they had a search warrant, and they were looking for him.”
It took me a second, but then I started to laugh. “You know, I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m not stupid. And this ain’t funny. Did Daryl put you up to this?” I went to close the door on her, but she stopped it with her hand.
“Look, Krystal, this is not about Daryl,” she said more forcefully. “It’s about Avery. I’m trying to help your father, so stop playing games.” She looked over her shoulder, then back at me. “And I don’t think this is a conversation you want to have out in the hallway. Are you going to let me in so I can explain or what?”
I glared at her for a moment, wondering what I should do. Half of me hoped she really was playing some stupid game because then I could just beat her ass and be done with it. But if it wasn’t a game and Daddy was really in trouble, I needed to know what was going on. I stepped aside, allowing her to enter.
I had barely shut the door behind her when she blurted out, “The police are looking for Avery with regard to some armed robberies.”
I was laughing again. As serious as she sounded and as serious as she looked… my father? Armed robbery? No way in hell.
“You couldn’t think of anything better than that to come down here and try to cause drama in my life?” I leaned in close, trying to intimidate her. “Why are you really down here, Connie? What? You went by Daryl’s and he wasn’t there? Came running down here, trying to see if you’d catch him with me?”
“Puhleeze,” Connie said, looking unfazed as she shooed her hand at me. “Look, I’m not lying about this. Why would I? My being here has nothing to do with Daryl. Your father could be in big trouble, but if you don’t want to take my word for it, fine! Just leave Daryl out of it because he wants nothing to do with you.”
I rolled my eyes and looked her up and down. Could Daryl really have chosen her fat ass over me? That thought bothered me, but I couldn’t let her know it. “Don’t act like you don’t know that Daryl and I have a relationship,” I said.
She came back at me with, “You mean
had
a relationship. I’m well aware that back in the day you and Daryl used to see each other.”
“Back in the day? Ha! More like yesterday. You saw how I was
dressed when I showed up at Daryl’s place the other day. Did that look like someone who
had
a relationship with him?” I was hoping she couldn’t see through me, but my stomach was churning at the thought of her and Daryl together. Shoot, it had been bad enough when she was my father’s wife. This was a hundred times worse.
“Whatever, Krystal.” She turned away from me. I could tell I was getting to her, so I kept twisting the knife.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. He’s my man now. You and him are history.”
I wanted to smack the smirk off her face.
“Look,” she said, “can we finish talking about your father? You really need to give him a call and let him—”
I broke in and questioned, “What do you think about that ankle bracelet he’s wearing these days?”
Her eyebrows shot up. Obviously she was surprised that I knew about the ankle bracelet.
“Now, how would I know about that if Daryl and I weren’t together recently?” Her mouth dropped open, but she was speechless. I continued, “It sure gets in the way when you’re fucking, doesn’t it? I started using it for leverage. You should try it sometime. Since he’s your man.” I thrust my hips a couple of times for emphasis.
I could see her bottom lip trembling. She was boiling inside but trying her best not to convey it. “I did not come down here for this” was all she said. It sounded like her voice was about to crack.
“I know, but since you’re here, I might as well tell you.” I laughed. “Who did you think he was visiting out in the Hamptons? Or didn’t he tell you about that either?”
“That was you out there?”
“Every day, all day, three times a day.” I was determined to send her ass back to her apartment in tears. “Why don’t you ask him about that Jewish star he wears and who bought it for him? It’s a sign of our love, Connie. He never takes it off because he never wants to forget where it came from.”
Surprisingly she still had more fight left in her. She regained some
strength in her voice and said, “Maybe Daryl hasn’t been totally honest with me—and you got the response you wanted because I’m pissed—but there is one thing I can be sure of: he hasn’t fucked with you since that day in the hall.”
I smirked. “How can you be so sure?”
She glanced down at the blue box in my hand. “Because he doesn’t fuck with junkies. And it’s pretty evident to everyone in the building that you’re a junkie.” She shook her head. “You know, it’s a shame. You used to be cute, but you really need to get yourself together ’cause you look like shit. And I ain’t talkin’ about your eye.”
With a smirk, she headed to the door. She opened it and then turned back to say, “Oh, and you might wanna call your father and give him a heads-up before you dive headfirst into the blue box. It’d be a shame if he got shot by the cops because you were too high to pass on a message.”
After my daughter called to tell me that the cops were looking for me, I panicked and went to hide out at a small hotel in New London, Connecticut. Cain, on the other hand, was as calm as ever. He looked at it this way: crimes happened every day in New York, so the cops were pretty overloaded. Cain said that as long as we laid low for a while, they’d forget all about us. Thank goodness he’d made it very clear from the start that we wouldn’t be robbing banks, post offices, or any government buildings, which would have turned the feds on to us. Since we’d kept all our jobs local, all we had to do was take a nice long vacation and then move our operation to another state far enough away that our MO wouldn’t be noticed.
My hotel was near the Foxwoods casino, and after three days of gambling, my money was running low. That’s why I was relieved to be heading to Cain’s house, where we could re-up our funds and discuss a strategy for the future. I was thinking that Jamaica would be a nice place to visit. We’d made a small fortune in the past few weeks, so I would be traveling in style—everything first-class and top-shelf. Hell, maybe I’d even invite Connie to go with me.
Unfortunately, when I pulled in front of Cain’s house, my vacation fantasy was interrupted by what I saw in front of me. I watched in confusion as a woman planted a
FOR SALE
sign in the front yard.
I threw the car in park, turned off the ignition, and hopped out, running to catch her before she got in her car.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Is this property on the market?”
With her hand on her car door, she turned and looked back at the
sign, which was the obvious answer to my question. No doubt she was thinking about how stupid I was, but then she looked at my Mercedes and her eyes lit up. I knew that look. Back when I was a mortgage broker, my mouth watered plenty of times when I thought I had a rich prospective buyer on the hook. Too bad for her I wasn’t interested.