Careful of the Company You Keep (2 page)

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Authors: Angie Daniels

BOOK: Careful of the Company You Keep
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My response was met by a wave of silence.
“Renee, I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry and hope we can work this out.”
“What the hell is there left to work out?” This shit was so unbelievable I didn't know what to think or how to react, and that's rare for me. Never in a million years would I have expected to walk in on my husband, or any man for that matter, banging another one in his ass. I don't even watch boy/boy adult videos. I got sick watching
Brokeback Mountain
. “I want my monthly allotment doubled and don't even think about canceling my insurance benefits. You got one hour to pack yo shit and get the fuck out of my house. Oh yeah . . . and take them sheets with you!” I screamed, then ended the call.
Tears were running down my face. I don't know why I was crying over that fool.
John had never been good in bed. His thing is too little and he spends more time tweaking my damn nipples like they were knobs to a transistor radio than anything else. Nevertheless, he was rich and I told myself it was a small consequence for everything he had given me. Big-ass house. New ride. Private schools for the kids, and money in my own personal bank account. In exchange, all I had to do was give him some pussy three times a week. It was easier in the beginning, but the last three years, I started feeling like it was too much damn work. Hell, if I wanted a job, I would have gone out and applied for one. So to escape, I started writing and was now a published best-selling author of erotic romance. What I wasn't getting in my bed, I was getting in my books, and plenty of it. And when that was no longer enough, I started fucking around with every Tom, Dick, and Jerry I came in contact with. But after a while, I still wasn't happy.
Somehow, John sensed my misery, and two months ago, he invited Shemar to our bed for a ménage à trois. I thought
cha-ching
, I had hit the jackpot. Shemar and I would fuck while John sat back, beating his meat and watching. Then John and I started swinging with other couples. The husband was banging me while John was poking the man's wife. I thought I was getting the best of both worlds. Only the joke was on my black ass.
I guess I can't blame anyone but myself. I should have known that it was too good to be true. That's what I get for thinking I was getting something for nothing. I'd been talking about leaving John for years, and now that the time had come I had to quit talking about it and be about it. Starting right now, my life was beginning anew. A tear streamed down my cheek because I wasn't sure if I even knew where to begin.
2
Danielle
I turned the burner down low on the stove, then moved up to my daughter's room to tell her it was time for dinner. After knocking on her door and not getting an answer, I stepped in and found the room empty. Hearing water running in the bathroom at the end of the hall, I realized Portia was taking a shower.
Seeing dirty towels on the floor, I reached over and grabbed them. No wonder I can't find half my damn towels. They are here, buried in Portia's room.
I reached for a large gold bath towel and something dropped. Looking down, I spotted a small leather-bound book. I reached for it, flipped it over, and realized it was Portia's journal. Staring at it, I was tempted to open it, but I try to respect my daughter's privacy . . . most of the time. But curiosity got the better of me and after several seconds I had convinced myself that I'm the mother and had a right to know what my teenage daughter was up to, because the majority of the time she was up to no good.
“I'll look at just one entry, then I'll put it down,” I murmured to myself and flipped to the center of the book.
I saw Ron's dick today. He wasn't too happy that I walked in on him, so I played it off and stepped out of the bathroom. I've never seen a thing with the skin still on it. But dang, it was big! I promise you I'm going to get some of that before the school year's over.
Hell to the no.
Stunned, I flipped forward several more pages.
Tomorrow my mother is working evenings and I plan to finally make my move on her boyfriend. The plan is to come running out of my room butt naked, pretending I saw a spider.
Fingers shaking, I turned the page.
I can't believe Ron rejected me. Even after I told him I loved him he tossed it back in my face and said he loved my mom, not me, and that I needed to find a boy my own age. I hate him! I hate him! Just wait, I'm going to get him back.
My hands were shaking as I flipped to an entry dated the day after I broke up with Ron.
Well, my plan worked. Mama believed me over Ron and put his butt out. Hee-hee! You should have seen his face. That's what he gets for treating me that way. Now Mama thinks I'm pregnant by Ron when I'm really carrying Demetrius's baby. Yuck! That was the worst sex I've ever had. I sure hope my baby comes out looking like me.
I didn't even know the journal had slipped from between my fingers until I heard it hit the floor. For the longest time I just stood there, stunned, knowing good and well what I was reading better not be true. But it was.
My daughter had lied.
Everything went still as my world started spinning. Slowly I lowered onto the bed and took several deep breaths to calm my nerves because what I wanted to do was to run down the hall to the bathroom and snatch Portia's wide ass out of that shower. The only thing stopping me was the fact that she was pregnant and I didn't want to be responsible for two dead bodies.
Ain't this a bitch?
I believed her. Even when something in the back of my mind kept telling me something wasn't right about my daughter's story, I believed her anyway because she's my daughter and that's what mothers are supposed to do, stick by their children.
How was I to know that when she described my man's uncircumcised dick, the reason she knew what it looked like was that her hot ass had barged into the bathroom and seen it? Not because Ron had been sleeping with her.
It was like a sick joke.
For the first time in my life I could understand how a woman could murder her own child, because that's exactly what I wanted to do. The only thing stopping me was that I didn't own a gun and that Portia was pregnant.
Dear God, Ron isn't even the father of her child. She lied to me! Ron never touched her.
He tried to tell me she was lying, yet I refused to listen.
The pipes grew quiet, which meant Portia had turned the water off. I returned the journal to where I had found it underneath a towel and quickly exited her room before I did something crazy. I then moved down the hall to my bedroom and made two calls and simply said, “Get over here or I'm killing her ass,” then went downstairs to wait.
Fifteen minutes later, I was down in the kitchen walking laps around the table with a butcher knife in my hand, still contemplating murder. Portia came bouncing down the stairs in shorts and a T-shirt, looking like any typical sixteen-year-old. “Mmmm, Mama, that smells good! Is it time to eat yet?”
I glanced over at her lying ass, wanting so badly to take that pot of hot spaghetti sauce and fling it at her head and burn the shit out of her.
Hummph!
And then we would be even, because Portia had burned me good with all her lies.
“Why don't you set the table?” I suggested between gritted teeth.
She nodded obediently, then moved over to the counter and reached inside the cabinets. I watched her work, wondering how someone who looked so innocent could be so slick. A beautiful full-figured girl built like a woman since fifth grade. I had no idea until recently she knew how to use every last curve to get what she wanted.
“Set an extra plate. Your grandmother is coming over.”
And she better hurry, because I don't know how much longer before I snap.
“Mama, I'm so glad Ron doesn't live here anymore. I really enjoy having you all to myself again.”
That's because I kicked his ass out.
Breathe, girl, breathe! She ain't worth it.
Ten, nine, eight, seven . . . I was seconds away from flinging that knife across the room when thank goodness the doorbell rang.
Portia dashed off to answer it. I took another deep breath, then pulled the garlic bread out of the oven. My mama entered wearing a worried look on her face. I placed a finger to my lips, halting any questions. “Let's eat.”
We all took a seat, Mama to my right, Portia directly across from me. I waited until we were all eating before I broke the silence. “I decided to call the police.”
Portia's eyes grew wide.
“For what?” Mama asked with concern.
I continued eating and didn't even bother looking her way. My eyes were glued to my daughter's face. “I'm filing charges against Ron for rape.”
Mama nodded in agreement. “About time! I told you you should have done that the second you found out. Hopefully it's not too late.”
Portia reached for her Kool-Aid and took a sip.
Uh-uh, she wasn't getting off that easy. “We probably won't be able to go to court until the baby is born because they're going to need DNA evidence. Once they have that and are able to prove the baby is Ron's, it's off to prison for the next twenty years.” My eyes got small and never left hers.
Portia squirmed uncomfortably on the seat. “Can't we just leave it alone?”
“Why? I should have pressed charges against him the minute I found out, but instead I wanted to protect you.”
She lowered her head, trying to avoid eye contact.
Mama pointed her fork at her granddaughter. “Listen to your mama. What that man did was against the law.” She started shaking her head. “Lord knows I had a bad feeling about that thug living in this house. I just knew something bad would come out of this.”
“B-But I . . . I don't want to have to face him in court,” Portia stuttered nervously.
I just bet you don't.
“You don't have to. The lawyers can put a case together without you if they need to. As soon as we get done eating, we're going down and file charges.”
Portia dropped her fork and started frantically shaking her head. “Mama, they won't believe me . . . I know they won't,” she insisted.
“Why is that?” I asked quickly.
“Because . . . Ron isn't the only one I've slept with. There's a chance this might be someone else's baby.”
I couldn't believe she was admitting what I had said all along—she was a slut. I wanted so badly to scratch her eyes out for lying. “Well, I guess that's a chance we'll have to take.”
“I don't want to.” Portia sat back in her chair, arms crossed and lips poked out.
I raised my voice to ensure she knew who's boss. “Since when do you have a choice? This is my house, and that was a grown man . . .
my man
you were sleeping with. I'm going to make him pay!”
Damn, I should earn an Oscar for my performance.
“Why does it always have to be about you? What about me?”
I wanted so badly to knock her upside her head. “I'm not even about to get into it with you. We're pressing charges as soon as your daddy gets here.”
Her face dropped. “My daddy? I'm not doing it!”
“Why is that?” Mama asked, clearly confused by what was going on. “Don't you want to get the man who did this to you?”
A single tear ran down Portia's face as she tried to appear innocent. “I'm scared of what he might do to me.”
“Since when? You weren't scared before,” I replied with a rude snort. I was already sick of playing this charade.
Portia just pursed her lips together and looked away.
“Be nice, Danny,” Mama warned under her breath.
I don't know what I was thinking when I asked her to come over, because no matter what I said, Mama was going to side with Portia. “I think the reason she doesn't want to press charges is she's lying and she knows that once we start the proceedings, the court is going to find out.”
“I'm not lying!” Portia insisted but didn't bother to look up from the table.
“Oh really?” I said. “Hold that thought.” I quickly moved up the stairs and came back a few moments later with the journal in my hand. As soon as I stepped inside the kitchen, I tossed the book onto the table. “Now try again. Tell your grandmother why you don't want to press charges.”
Mama looked from Portia to me and back to Portia. “Baby, what's she talking about?”
Portia looked increasingly nervous. “I-I don't know.”
“She's lying, Mama! Ron didn't rape her. It's right there in that book. She had a crush on a twenty-two-year-old man and he wasn't thinking about her hot ass so she lied to break us up.”
Mama couldn't hide her disappointment. “Is that true?”
“No.” She finally looked up at me.
I could no longer hold back. I sprang from the chair, jumped across the table, and tried to grab my daughter by her neck, but Mama rose out of her seat in time to keep me back. “You better be glad you're pregnant, because otherwise I would beat your mothafuckin' ass!” I screamed.
Portia jumped from her chair and was in the corner, shaking and crying like someone had died. Tears weren't going to save her this time.
“You need to pack yo shit and go home with your grandmother. You're not welcome back in this house. As far as I'm concerned, you're no longer my daughter.”
Mama gave me a light shove, then shook her head at my rude behavior. “Sweetheart. That is not the way to react to a situation like this. We can work this out, I know we can.”
“Mama, there is nothing to work out!”
“Young lady, don't you take that tone with me.” Mama gave me that look that told me I wasn't too big for her to still whup my ass. I pursed my lips and moved over near the sink.
She then started jumping in my shit about how I shouldn't have been messing with a man twelve years younger than me in the first place and that I needed to try and be a better mother. God, I could feel a migraine coming on with a vengeance. All I wanted Mama to do was take Portia home with her so I could go and find Ron and make everything right in my life again.
I heard a knock at the door. Before either of them could move, I raced out and flung the door open to find my ex-husband, Alvin Patterson, standing there. He immediately moved into the house.
“What's going on?” he asked, looking around frantically. “You called screaming and I couldn't understand a word you were saying.”
“I'm putting your lying ass daughter out of my house.” I folded my arms across my chest and glared at Alvin waiting to see what he had to say.
“For what?”
My mother moved into the living room. “Hello, Alvin.”
His face brightened at the sight of her. He and Mama have always been close, even when I wished they weren't.
“Why don't we all have a seat and talk about this like adults?” Mama suggested.
“There is nothing else to talk about,” I replied with a defiant tilt of my chin.
Mama nudged me in the hip. “Yes, there is, now
sit
!”
I growled in protest but took a seat when it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. Time was ticking. The only thing on my mind was going to find Ron and trying to work things out between us.

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