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Authors: Dakota Knight

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BOOK: Biker Chick
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Chapter Six
But I knew every wish couldn't be granted . . .
After satisfying Mom with her gift, I knew it was time to get back to Ray's. I wanted to have everything ready before he returned home. He worked hard during the day, cutting hair and paying his dues to the Cruz. Plus, he satisfied all of my needs . . . all of them. After he'd treated me to the best New York had to offer, the least I could do was make sure his house was looking good and that there was food on the table so he could relax when he came home.
I got back to Ray's just in time for my Molly Maid's appointment. When I saw the little green car turning onto the main road leading to Ray's, I zipped past it on my steel and was parked in the garage less than a minute before I heard the doorbell ring. I yanked off my helmet and took off my jacket before answering the door.
“
Hola
, Maria,
como estàs?
” I asked the short Mexican woman at the door, straining the limits of my Spanish-speaking ability.
Maria smiled. “I okay,” she said in deeply-accented English.
I let Maria into the house and she got to work. I didn't have to worry about anything. First of all, I knew she wouldn't find any evidence of Ray's illegal activities. After diligently searching his house for signs of bitches' phone numbers, pictures, clothing, jewelry, etc., I discovered he kept his secrets close to his chest. Second of all, I knew Maria was all about the business. She wasn't working for Molly Maid, she owned her own franchise. She used to live in the Meadows with her family but they had all moved on to greener pastures after they all started their own businesses. Talk about lessons in hustling . . . the Martinez clan could teach anyone a thing or two.
After Maria got the house clean and fresh, I took a quick shower and put on the short tight black Prada dress I had purchased in New York. It was Ray's favorite. Then I dialed his cell phone so I could find out when he was coming home.
“Hey, baby, how are you?” I asked when I heard Ray's deep, sexy voice on the other end of the line.
“What's up, Cristal?” He asked, his voice serious, which meant he was around his boys and trying to act hard.
“What time you coming home?” I tried to sound seductive.
“Should be an hour or so.”
“Good. Because I've got something for you.”
“What's that?”
“A wrapping—short, tight, and black, with the perfect gift underneath.”
Ray groaned, then tried to cover his tracks by coughing. I laughed.
“You ain't right, Ma.”
“Get home soon. I'll be waiting.” I hung up before he had a chance to answer.
I called up China House, Ray's favorite restaurant, and ordered his favorite dish, Empress Chicken with steamed rice. I ordered chicken fried rice for myself. The woman taking the order told me in a curt and hurried tone that the food would be delivered to my door in about forty-five minutes.
I set the table, lit some scented candles, turned the CD player on and the sound of slow jams filled the room. After I was done, I looked everything over. It would be the perfect evening with the perfect man. We would have dinner, maybe watch a little TV, and then the best part, the activity in the bedroom. As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Dinner.
As I handed the delivery man his money and took the bag containing our dinner, the gleam of the mail slot caught my eye. The slot was next to the door. The slot led to a box inside of the house. Ray had told me he couldn't risk someone trying to go through his mail. My eyes traveled to the box, which Ray normally kept locked. It was slightly agar.
“Thank you,” I heard a voice say. It was the delivery man. I knew he was waiting for a tip. I gave him a couple of dollars before shutting the door. I took the food into the kitchen put the containers in the stove to keep the food warm. Then, I returned to the foyer. The mailbox was calling me.
I stared at it for a moment. I moved closer to inspect it. I noticed pieces of mail inside. All I wanted to do was take a little peek. That wouldn't hurt anything, right? I bent down to open the lid, half praying that I would hear the roar of Ray's steel to make me back away. But I didn't hear anything except for the saxophone in the background. I reached toward the box, then snatched my hand back. But then, curiosity got the better of me.
I reached for the lid and opened it cautiously, as if some gremlin would jump out and bite me. There were four envelopes inside. I bent down, to peek at the envelopes and got the surprise of my life. Three of the envelopes were from businesses, bills and such. American Electric Power wanted to get paid, as well as Sprint. The third envelope looked like junk mail. The fourth envelope was addressed to me: Crystal Marie Sells.
My eyes widened as I pulled the envelope out of the box and studied it. My name and Ray's address were handwritten, but there was no return address. The postmark said that the letter was mailed from the post office with the zip code 43211. That was a north side zip code.
My heartbeat began to sound like a chant as it quickened . . .
o-pen, o-pen, o-pen
. I closed up the box and took my letter to the table in the dining room. My first thought was that Ray was playing a trick on me. Leaving the box open, knowing how nosey I am, just to see if I would invade his privacy. But then again, how would he have known that the letter would come that day? Then again, I know he didn't expect me not to open an envelope addressed to me.
I pondered who would send a letter to me. Dymond and Lala didn't even know Ray's address. I loved them like sisters, but I didn't want them over his house. They understood, so it wasn't a big deal. Plus, they weren't the type to write letters. Mom would have told me if she was sending a letter and she would have at least have put a return address on the envelope.
O-pen, o-pen, o-pen, o-pen . . .
I went to the living room and took a shade off of one of the lamps before turning on the light. I held the envelope up to the light, hoping I could catch a glimpse of what was inside. My chest tightened as I flipped the envelope around. I squinted as the shape of letters seeped through the envelope. And then I got pissed.
I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I ripped open the envelope and yanked out the sheet of paper inside. My eyes were telling the truth. There, in bold black letters, was the word:
 
BITCH
 
My stomach turned as I stared at each letter because my mind wasn't exactly comprehending the written word. “B-I-T-C-H,” I said each letter out loud.
Yeah, girl, you see it right
, my mind told me.
I felt my anger rise as I stomped through the kitchen to the dining room. I picked up my cell phone and called Ray. He might have been trying to be funny, but I didn't play no Bitch games. So what if I was snooping a bit? He had some major explaining to do. Of course, his voice mail picked up. His phone didn't even ring. That meant his phone was off.
“Your ass better be on the way home!” I yelled into the phone after that annoying computerized voice told me to leave a message.
I slammed the phone down on the table and then huffed my way into the den. I sat on the loveseat facing the garage door, waiting. Here I was trying to be a good woman to my man and some bitch is sending me letters? As I waited, I continued to stare at the letter. Each time I took in the curve of the B and the C, the straightness of the I, the T, and the H, I got angrier.
And I continued to wait.
And wait.
My anger simmered as the hours passed. The candles flickered. The food grew cold. After two hours, I turned on the TV to try and pass time. Not even BET's
Comic View
could lighten my mood. I dialed Ray's number a couple more times, but his voicemail immediately clicked on. I didn't leave another message.
After three hours, I began to worry. But my intuition told me that Ray hadn't been in an accident. I was being stood up in my own boyfriend's house. That had to be a new one. Best believe, I wasn't one to stick around where I wasn't wanted. I went to the bedroom, took off the Prada, and put on my skinny jeans and a T-shirt. I put up my leather “Silver Fox” jacket, laced up my boots, and got ready to hit the road. I left the “bitch” letter on the bed. Ray would get the message.
My eyes didn't start tearing up until I ran out of the garage after pressing the button inside to close the door. I left the house key Ray gave me on the dining room table. Even if I wanted to get back into the house, I wouldn't be able to. I wiped my eyes before I put my helmet on. I refused to let a man break me down . . . at least, not until I didn't have my ride.
The noise from Foxy Baby's engine couldn't drown out my thoughts. Even the air felt different that night. I didn't feel like a bird, flying free as I navigated the road. Instead, I felt like road kill, heavy and unappealing.
I exited 670 East and headed toward Allegheny Avenue. I was headed toward the Meadows. Toward my friends. Even though it was almost midnight, I knew Dymond would still be up. I just hoped Shadow wasn't with her. Chances were, Lala was with her. Greenland Meadows was a bustle of activity, even at that late hour. I could smell smoke from a barbecue. Hip-hop music was blaring from every building. I breathed in the familiarity of my former residence. It was like air, different scents, but still clear . . . always the same.
I parked in front of Dymond's building. I looked up to the third floor and noticed that the light to Dymond's bedroom was on.
Great
. I parked my steel. I didn't have to worry about any fools in the Meadows trying to steal it.
Everyone knew where my steel came from, and no one would risk his life trying to make it his own.
I climbed up the three flights of stairs. I felt the tears coming on again, but I pushed them back. I didn't want my girls to see me crying like a baby, especially over some man. In fact, I didn't want to give up too many details about why I was over at Dymond's place.
I only had to knock once. I heard footsteps and knew Dymond was looking through the peephole.
“Remember that movie
The Professional
when fools got shot looking through peepholes?” I asked, trying to sound playful. “Don't act like you ain't going to let the Tree to your Oh in.”
I heard muffled voices. Lala was there too. “Am I going to have to bust in or what?” I asked.
“It's too late to be selling Girl Scout cookies. Come back tomorrow,” Dymond said through stifled laughter.
“Stop playing, Dymond. You got a crazy friend with issues out here. Open the door.”
“I don't have any friends that live in burb-land.” There was more laughter.
“Now that's messed up,” I said, knocking on the door again. “Don't leave me hanging out here.”
“What's the password?” Dymond asked.
“My foot in your ass.”
“Talking like that ain't going to give you a pass.”
“How about ‘I love you like a step-sister?'”
“Maybe . . .” Dymond laughed again. It was a strong and hearty laugh. I heard Lala's little chuckle too. Then I heard the locks turn as Dymond prepared to open the door.
When I saw my girls through the open doorway, I almost lost it. My face was so hot, it felt like I was too close to the sun. I felt the tears coming, so I rushed through the door and sped past them into the living room. I placed my helmet on Dymond's tan leather couch before waving my hand in front of my face and taking off my jacket.
“Whew! It's hot up in here,” I said with my back toward my friends. A couple of tears escaped and I was trying to dry them before I turned to face them.
“Girl, what you doing here this late at night? Ray kick you out?” Dymond asked.
“I just wanted to see my girls, okay?”
“Yeah, right,” Lala said sarcastically.
“Right,” Dymond agreed. “You've been up under Ray for almost two months and now you've got time for us?”
“Look, seriously though. I just need some time to myself.” I could finally turn around to face them. I knew my face probably looked a mess, but if my girls saw anything, they didn't mention it.
Instead, Lala walked up to me and put a hand around my shoulder. “It's all good. I'm glad you decided to hang with us. I was beginning to think we were a duet and not a trio.”
“Never that girl,” I said. “So, Dymond, you got something to drink in this place or what?”
“I got water, Crys,” Dymond said, rubbing her belly. “You know I've got a little Shadow and your future godchild growing inside of me.”
I felt Lala stiffen beside me. I looked down at her. “Something wrong?” I asked.
“Nada,” Lala said, smiling. “I just thought I'd at least get some Bud up in here.”
“There ain't nothing in here except water. No more drinking for me. I'm going to be a mother, and I've got to start living right.”
BOOK: Biker Chick
3.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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