Between My Thighs: An Urban Erotic Tale (13 page)

“What?” I asked, feeling conquered by sorrow.

“Yeah, I know it’s bad news. The police are still investigating the matter. You know how slow shit gets processed around Detroit.”

I sat on the sofa with my chocolate ice cream and peanut topping, lost in thought. I sensed a great deal of sympathy for Dorian. He didn’t deserve to have his life stolen. He was alive, but in his current state, he was as good as dead.

Then there was Dallas, for whom I had no compassion. She was constantly doing dumb shit. Jason never once mentioned he was married. Troy didn’t either. Dallas was nuts for sleeping with him in the first place. She’d been deceived by Jason and Troy, the two of them played tag team on her, and then she got her ass kicked.

That wasn’t the first time she got her ass whooped either, messing with other people’s property. She was coming home from class one night, and Linda, her neighbor was waiting for her. Dallas had been screwing Poncho, Linda’s man. Dallas didn’t care that Linda and her son would be sitting out on the porch watching Poncho stroll over into her crib as often as he pleased. Poncho had gone out of town to bring some dope back, so he wasn’t around when the fight took place. When Dallas cut the corner, Linda was on her ass. Dallas couldn’t reach for her blade fast enough before she felt the force from a blunt object going upside her head. She recovered and got in some hits before the cops rolled down the block. Linda told her then that it wasn’t over.

Another time, Dallas had gone to Enterprise and rented a car for this dope dealer. He ran some story on her about his car being in the shop. He didn’t have credit to rent his own ride, so he used hers. Dallas didn’t even have her own transportation. She called him and asked for a ride to the store and he never came to get her and she never heard from him again. Enterprise sent the police to her house. She was hiding inside, peeping out the window. About six months later, Dallas was waiting for the bus when she saw her rental approaching. That nigga slowed down just enough for her to catch a glimpse of him and his new girl, before speeding off.

Chapter 13|

Troy was hot and cold. One month on, the next month off. This must have been his down time because I hadn’t spoken to him in three weeks. He hadn’t returned any of my calls, and his voice mailbox was full. I couldn’t get through to him or leave a message. I grew concerned, but he had assured me in the past that his disappearing acts were never personal, just his way of dealing with things.

Khalil and I didn’t talk on the phone much. His girlfriend, Janet, was controlling his every move. He e-mailed me regularly about Dorian’s case. Khalil had a frat brother who worked at the precinct assigned to the investigation and had been able to get the inside scoop.

From what Khalil mentioned in his last e-mail, the detectives were confident his wife was responsible for the attack but wasn’t the trigger person. They were looking into a suspect who’s name hadn’t been released. If my suspicions held true, her lover would somehow be involved.

• • •

My firm had been outsourced to provide full-scale solutions for web, graphic, and print media. In addition, we managed all speaking engagements, press releases, and publicity for a major hip-hop record label. My hard work was finally paying off. I’d signed my eighth major client in less than three months.

My girl Kapri Chavez came on as my partner to help meet the growing demands of clients. Kapri and I had pledged the same sorority back in ’95. She had an MBA from Princeton and was very sophisticated. I could leave things in her hands, fully confident in her ability to run the show. Shortly after she came aboard, I was in the air for the second time in a week. I flew out to Burbank to meet with executives for a deal my firm had just signed.

My hormones were raging. Excessive flying did that to me. That was another reason I didn’t like it. I’d end up having more periods than I needed and cramps out of this world. It threw my cycle off drastically, which is why I thought nothing when my period was late the next month. That was a mistake. I had been having sharp pains in my pelvic area and a number of mixed emotions unlike anything I had ever felt before.

It was another week before I connected with Troy. His phone had been disconnected. I needed to get in touch with him badly. I called his cellular service company, retrieved his balance, and paid it off. The representative didn’t care that I wasn’t on the account. They wanted their money, and I was allowed to obtain the information to pay the balance. His phone was unexpectedly on in five minutes. Troy carried his cell on him to access numbers in his phone book, guess that’s why he answered when I called.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“That’s a good damn question. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m cool. My phone got turned off. I didn’t know it was back on.”

I didn’t tell him I paid the bill. He would figure that shit out. He didn’t sound thrilled to hear from me. Matter fact, he rushed me off the phone, said he would get back to me. I waited for Troy to call back, but he didn’t that night or the next day.

When I found out I was pregnant, I lost it. My relationship with Troy wasn’t stable. We were speaking off and on, and I had a million projects for which to prepare. I wasn’t sure of the best way to break the news to Troy. When he finally called me back a week later, I told him we needed to talk. He complained how busy he was with work and that he didn’t have time to come over. Then the truth came out.

“I have another chick,” he said.

“That explains your attitude toward me lately. You got back with your baby mother?” I asked.

“No, it’s someone else.”

His cockiness and blunt remark offended me for a couple of seconds. This bastard just told me that he had a new chick, and what hurt the most was it being someone other than his baby mother. There was no need to prolong what I had to say. “I’m pregnant, Troy.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since my period skipped.”

“Why are you just telling me?” he asked, irritated by the news.

“I couldn’t get in touch with you?”

“You should have left me a message.”

“What kind of shit is that? Leave you a message telling you I’m pregnant? First of all, your fucking voice mail was full then your shit was disconnected. You sound crazy as hell right now.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“That’s what we should discuss further in person—”

“You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out,” he said. “Kids grow up without their father all the time. If you have this child, that’s how yours will be.”

I expected a different reaction from Troy. He knew I grew up without my father, and I sympathized with him when he told me about his part-time parents. I always had the talk with men with whom I slept. For me, it consisted of very simple questions. First, have you ever fucked another man? Second, have you ever thought about fucking another man? Third, do you have any diseases that you could pass on to me? Fourth, what happens if I get pregnant? In that order, every time—except with Troy.

That’s why I had no idea he would want me to auto-abort with no questions asked, no discussion needed. I’d fallen into another funk, but I maintained my workload and handled my business. This wasn’t the time to lose focus, especially if I was having this child.

• • •

The timing was perfect when I ran into Donovan, the guy from the Q train, at Blue Water Grill. He worked near Union Square and was out having lunch.

“Hi. Great seeing you again,” I said as we exchanged hugs and innocent kisses.

“Likewise, beautiful. You haven’t been chased or stalked anymore, have you?” he joked.

Now that it was a thing of the past, we could look back and laugh, but it certainly wasn’t funny when I almost became a victim of rape, robbery, or something worse.

“No, I haven’t,” I said, joining in on the laughter.

We shared lunch. Donovan was still the suave guy I remembered him being when we met a few months back on the Q train. He was the type of man with whom I needed to be, not some low-life, high school drop-out, game-playing, stingy-dick nigga like Troy.

I reserved my interest in Donovan, feeling guilty for having such feelings, carrying another man’s baby. Donovan and I had decent conversation. I thought about giving him a piece of my love for a piece of his. Hell, I was already pregnant—damage was done.

The relationship certainly would be ruined if we went that route so quickly. We had chemistry. Our dialogue was stimulating, highly intellectual, and very respectful.

Giving him some so prematurely in the game would definitely set the stage for a stagnant relationship. Besides, Troy owned this pussy, and it was killing me softly inside knowing he maintained such a hold on my ass, even if he wasn’t acting right.

Chapter 14|

It was tough getting through the next few days, being pregnant, scared, and alone. I couldn’t keep my emotions in check and was stressed like crazy. The hang-up calls started again. Someone had been calling, breathing on the phone. The ID didn’t display the number. Whomever it was called every night at the same time, gasping into the receiver. It was a daunting sound.

The next time the person called, I returned the favor, picked up the phone, and breathed heavily into it. The last time it happened, a recognizable voice said, “I’m watching you,” and hung up.

I expected to hear Kristie, Dorian’s wife. Instead, I had an amateur stalker playing on my phone. It sounded just like those phones they sell at the Spy Shop, the store that sells gadgets, widgets, and other silly equipment. My girlfriend had the same one and was always playing pranks with the male and female automated voices. I turned off the ringers, spread across my bed, and got some rest.

• • •

The sounds of the chamber resonated. She was a teenager, much younger than she is now. She ran dodging bullets as the three men neared her. It was raining hard outside. She had been trying to scream, but the sounds wouldn’t escape. She was trapped and out of control.

The noise from shattering glass startled her, causing her eyes to widen. She’d been looking for her brother but couldn’t find him. Something was odd. She could always locate him, no matter where he was. It was different that night. She continued running, only to realize she was going in circles.

Surrounded by the darkness and raindrops, the girl climbed into a parked car, trying to hide from the three men she’d been fleeing. For a moment she lost them. Her cellular phone wasn’t finding a signal. Her cries for help were unheard. As she slid down into the seat, the men walked by. She silently called her brother’s name, Juwan, and he heard her.

“I’ve been looking for you so long,” the girl said. “Why did you push me away?”

“I didn’t want you involved,” he said to her. She cried and tried to muffle the sounds of her tears.

“We have to get out of here,” she told him.

“It will be alright,” he replied, assuring her that she should move on.

The girl wasn’t leaving without her brother. She felt overwhelmed with pressure as the walls closed in.

“I thought I’d seen you earlier,” she told him. “You walked right past me.”

“It wasn’t me,” he said, smiling in that innocent way he had when they were kids.

“I love you. Please come with me,” she told him.

“Next time,” he said, and when she looked again, he was gone. She was shivering as the rain drenched her. Just as the three men passed, she ran for her life. Her breaths quickened and shortened. The sound from the chamber revolving brought tears to her eyes. She looked back for him, but he wasn’t there. Had he ever been there? she wondered.

“Please come back. Wait. Not like this,” she yelled.

She wasn’t losing her mind. He was there. His voice stiffened as he gasped and told her, “They shot me…”

It never stopped raining. The sirens never stopped screeching. The shots never stopped going off in her head, and she never stopped loving him.

The men had robbed her, damaged her soul, and stole her brother’s life. She sat there weeping in a transient state as her brother revealed his murderer, and this time it was clear, a vision of Ronnie, their cousin, danced in her head.

• • •

I woke up fighting and kicking the air. I was tangled in the sheets. The area where I sat was soaked. At first, I thought I was still dreaming and wet from the rain. I reached over and turned on the lamp on my nightstand. I was in fact soaked. My bed was covered in blood. I was able to hit the speakerphone and press the speed dial for emergency before passing out. I had had a miscarriage.

It wasn’t the dream that caused the miscarriage. Honestly, I’d been under pressure. I was scared at the thought of having Troy’s baby. He didn’t even like me. I was at a pivotal point in my life, and my pregnancy was the interruption of everything. I considered the miscarriage more of a blessing in disguise.

My brother, Juwan, had been communicating with me in my dreams since his death. It was a cold rainy night when he was killed. I often talked about it with Kevin, my therapist, but lately refrained from mentioning it. It was a persistent dream, and I figured it would haunt me for the rest of my days. It wasn’t all bad when I dreamed about my brother, only when I was under a tremendous amount of anxiety would I have a dream like the one the night of my miscarriage. Most of the time, my brother and I were living as if it were current day in my dreams, having fun.

• • •

I was shocked when Troy arrived at my door. His face and neck were scratched up. He looked like he was in a brawl. Part of me wanted to leave his ass standing outside, but the sensual half of me knew better. Besides, I couldn’t turn my back on someone who needed me. I’d done that before.

About five years ago, a friend of mine whom I hadn’t heard from in years reached out to me. We had fallen out over a disagreement. To be frank, he smacked me. Hit my ass hard for no apparent reason. I always told myself, if a nigga put his hands on me, that it was over. And since my friend never apologized, I cut him completely out of my life.