Wounded Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) (6 page)

“I went back to California the next day and stayed there for about three months looking for you. I called Chelle. We talked on the phone for hours, and we got a strategy together. I decided to go to all of the places you used to work and hang out. Chelle told me that you backtracked a lot. I went to New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Florida, Michigan, Georgia, Texas, Louisiana, Illinois, California, Ohio, New Hampshire and Tennessee. I had never been to those states before, and the drive was beautiful. I went to all the shelters I could find; and then I worked my way through to the Catholic Churches. I have thirty seven Rosaries now, mostly given to me by nuns but also from a few priests. Chelle told me you had a special connection with Catholic Churches. I had a few leads, and then they all ended at a dead end. People on the streets remembered Chyna more than you.”

He pulled in closer to me then, wrapping his legs around my waist. “Chelle told me Chyna tried to keep you under wraps, so she stayed in the spot light more than you did.”

“Where did you go last?” I asked.

“I just got back from Tennessee again two days ago.”

“Again?”

“I got like ten leads there and…” he broke off and didn’t say anything else.

“What?”

He slid away from me.

“No, Jyme…hold on.”

“I’ll be right back. I need to show you something.”

He went downstairs for a moment. When he came back, he had a large file box in his hands. He sat on the bed across from me. He pulled out a brown folder and stuck it behind his back. He wasn’t hiding it from me; he was waiting for something. The first file had pictures of houses and people with addresses written on them. Each state he had visited had its own file. We went through it for at least two hours. I remembered a lot of those places and people, and I told him some - but not all - of the stories from those times. If I didn’t remember, he told me the stories. When he closed what I thought was the last file, I looked at him.

“Where’s Tennessee?” I asked.

He handed me another file and I hesitated before I opened it. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to learn where I truly came from. He opened the file for me and said, “I went to The Holy Rosary Academy; do you remember going there?”

“I’m not sure.” I answered in a whisper.

“They told me you were especially close to a Sister Mary Aquinas.”

With that name leaving from his lips, so many memories rose deep inside me.

“She used to braid my hair and it didn’t hurt; most of the Sisters pulled to tight, but her touch felt as soft as a butterfly landing on your head.” I closed my eyes and I could see her warm heart-shaped face now. “She used to give us peppermints, not the hard ones, but the chewy ones. They were my favorite; usually you could only get them around Christmas. But Sister Aquinas had them all year round.” When he closed the folder, I looked at him. “Where’s the rest?” I asked.

He pulled another folder out and I asked him if it was the last one. “Before this one,” he held up the brown folder that he kept back from me.

I opened the folder and went through a stack of photos. Jyme had taken pictures of the places he went to, in order to jog my memory. Some of the places I recognized, some I didn’t; the places I didn’t remember, Jyme told me what he found out while there.

“I don’t recognize this place,” I told him. It was a picture of an arcade and he had taken a picture of the street sign. It was on 5
^th
Avenue and I didn’t have a clue what it meant.

“The owner’s name was T’Bear; he said your sister, Chyna, would have different people from there watch you every night until they closed. He said you were there almost every day and that he used to make you grill cheese sandwiches in different shapes. Then something came to mind.

I interrupted Jyme. “He was a tall man with a big stomach. He wore a dirty apron and a cigar always hung out of his mouth. He laughed a lot and his belly use to jiggle like Santa Claus. I remember he had a few teeth missing, and he used to pick me up and sit me on the tall stool. I used to spin around on that stool and he used to catch me before I fell off.”

I smiled and then nodded at Jyme. He touched the side of my face and I melted into his hand.

“I think she used to leave you there when she would go to…
make her money
.”

I just nodded because I remembered how Chyna used to give me pockets full of quarters before she left. I remembered I always had quarters to play the video games with. I smiled a small smile and then I felt the tears coming. I fought them back and tried to focus my mind on something else. Jyme put everything back into the file folder, then he turned and faced me.

“Babe, I found out some information about your family.” I stared at him; his face was torn. “I found a lot of unpleasant stuff, babe.”

I nodded at him and prepared for the worst. He pulled the brown folder from behind him, and handed me a piece of paper. The first piece of paper had the State of Tennessee seal on it. It had “Cristina Makael Winters, born March 18, 1979, in Nashville, Tennessee to the parents of Michael Christopher Winters and Lauren Michelle Winters at Nashville General Hospital at Meharry.” I stared at the paper, confused.

Jyme put his hand on top of mine. “That’s you, Cricket,” he said softly.

I looked down at the paper again and dropped it.

“How do you know that?”

I hired a couple of detectives, and we were able to get a couple of good fingerprints here and at the condo. We ran them through system and this is what we found. He handed me another sheet of paper that looked identical to the one before. It said, “Chyna Michelle Winters born September 26, 1974, in Nashville, Tennessee to the parents of Michael Christopher Winters and Lauren Michelle Winters at Nashville General Hospital at Meharry.”

“Chyna,” I cried.

Jyme handed me five different pictures of two little girls playing in the snow, on a set of monkey bars, and then on a merry-go-round.

“That’s you and Chyna,” he whispered.

Then, he handed me a pictures of a women who looked just like me, and a man who looked just like Chyna.

“These were your parents; Michael and Lauren.”

I looked at the picture of them for a very long time.

“You look just like your mother.”

“Chyna looks just like him,” I said.

He handed me two more pieces of paper; death certificates—one for Michael Christopher Winters and one of Lauren Michelle Winters. They both had the same death date; December 24, 1983. Jyme then handed me a newspaper article. It read,

Brutal Deaths for Goodlettsville Parents; the parents of two were found murdered inside their home in Goodlettsville on Christmas Eve, officials said on Christmas Day. Goodlettsville’s Commissioner said dispatch received a 911 call about a possible shooting at 1876 Windover Drive at approximately 2:46 a.m. Upon arrival at the scene, the Commissioner said the two parents were found deceased in their residence. They have been identified as Michael Christopher Winters (29) and Lauren Michelle Winters (24). Tennessee State Police Crime Scene Investigators were on the scene throughout the morning to process evidence and conduct interviews. The bodies have since been removed from the house and transported to Nashville for autopsies. The cause of death wasn’t immediately known, but is thought to be gunshot wounds. Local media has reported that the two children in the residence were found alive and have been placed in child protective custody.

I dropped the paper and walked to the window. I wrapped my arms around myself, and Jyme came up behind me and held me.

“Cricket?”

“Yeah?”

“Babe, I’m here for you. You still have me.”

Jyme was so good at reading me. I did feel alone. I felt like I had no one; but I did have someone. I turned to Jyme and touched both sides of his face.

“What?” he asked. He knew I wanted to say something to him, but I thought about it, and this wasn’t the right time.

“I love you.”

“Cricket?”

I kissed his neck and his chest. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide. His breathing was so fast now, and he was holding back. He was being reserved with me. He was scared I would reject him or maybe even freak out.

“Cricket, can I touch you?” he asked, panting.

“Yes.” I looked around the too bright room and took a deep breath.

Jyme knew my thoughts. He placed both hands on my shoulders and pressed down for me to stay there. He went over to the bed and put all the papers and photos back into the folder and set it on the nightstand. He turned off the light.

Then, he came back to me and kissed my forehead, my right cheek, and then my left.

“What’s your best moment?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Your best moment with me?”

He pondered my question for a minute and then he smiled wide. He pulled me into him, and I wrapped my arms around him. He pulled one of my nightgown straps down with his teeth because he was using his hands to remove my panties. I laughed aloud, and he chuckled. The deepness of his chuckle made my toes tingle for the first time in months. I realized they had not tingled since the last time I was with him.

“Our first night,” he whispered.

My panties hit the floor; then Jyme pulled my left breast out and started sucking it. He was so loud with it, that it sounded like he was drinking something. He pulled the other one out and started on it with the same fierceness that he had done with the other. I was really feeling it now; and I touched him and patted my hands down toward his Anaconda. And there he was at full length. I was so happy to be reunited with his
big fellah
that I wanted to bend down and talk to him; but I didn’t want to ruin the mood. I stroked him up and down, and Jyme was going crazy.

“And you?” he asked.

He pulled me over to the bed; I pulled my nightgown over my head in the darkness. He untied his pajama pants, and then there he was in all his fabulous glory.

“The string quartet…in the park that night,” he smiled wide and I leaned over to him and put him in my mouth. He pulled it out and told me no. I frowned and then he told me to lay back. He bent down and licked the lips surrounding Juicy. I sat straight up.

“No, don’t…” I said.

“Why not?”

“Jyme, I get tested every two months, and everything has been fine, but I…” I couldn’t even finish what I needed to say.

“The guy that hit you?”

I nodded at him and took a deep breath.

“Jyme, I am a whore; always have been. I am safe, but Trey and Troy they…” I broke off. “Stop it!”

I swallowed, and he pulled me back down flat onto the bed. He went back down and started licking Juicy again. I came twice from his tongue action, and I shook violently. I was already exhausted, and we hadn’t even gotten started yet. I hadn’t had an orgasm since last February; and my body couldn’t handle it. He climbed on top of me and started kissing both sides of my neck.

“Condom,” I whispered.

He opened the drawer to the nightstand and pulled one out and slid it on.

“Jyme, I need to tell you something.”

“What?” he growled angrily.

“Impatient much?” I teased.

“Cricket, I haven’t gotten any. I haven’t been with anybody else.”

I said nothing. I just laid there. I wanted to cry because this brave and strong man laying on top of me, had waited for me all this time. He hadn’t been with anyone since me. And me, being the professional whore I was, had been with dozens of men since him. Not by, but I had still been touched.

His words made me want to crawl into a dark hole and just die. This man was too fuckin’ good for me; I didn’t deserve him.

“Fuck…babe…shit! I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…”I kissed him, and he kissed me back. I pulled away from him.

“Jyme, you’re the only person that’s ever been here; I swear no one else ever!” I pulled his hand down to Juicy, and he caressed her.

“Oh yeah, I know. I heard.”

I frowned and let my mind drift. “Chelle!” I hissed.

“No, don’t be mad at her. She told me, and it helped so much, babe. You have no idea how much that comforted me. To know you saved your true self just for me, and I feel terrible that I had nothing to offer when you gave me so much.”

“You did. You gave me your heart.”

“You’ve had plenty of hearts. Mine was just another one.”

“No, it wasn’t. Your heart is so special, and it’s all I ever wanted. A man who loved me for me; no matter what. I didn’t know a man like that existed. But I found you.”

“No, I found you on that rock so long ago now.”

We laid there, and Jyme pulled me closer and kissed me so softly.

“Cricket, I didn’t know if I would ever find you, and then D’Artagnan called and I couldn’t believe it. I really thought the sick bastard was fuckin’ with me. I threatened his life and his family’s; but when he started crying, I knew it had to be true.”

“He cried for me?”