Damsels in Distress

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Urban Books, LLC
97 N 18th Street
Wyandanch, NY 11798

 

Damsels in Distress

Copyright © 2014 Nikita Lynnette Nichols

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-6228-6756-1

 

First Mass Market Printing August 2016
First Trade Paperback Printing April 2014

 

 

 

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My parents, William and Victoria Nichols, you are my lifeline, the air I breathe. I must, I shall, I will take this time to say thank you to my lovely editor, Joylynn Ross. She keeps me on the bestseller list. I love you, Joy!

It was the third Saturday evening in April. The spring rain fell hard. Heavy thunderstorms accompanied by dangerous lightning blasted throughout the Windy City. Chicago had been given that nickname, decades ago, for its angry winds. The sewers overflowed on South Ada Street: the same street where twenty-seven-year-old Ginger Brown modeled a royal blue two-piece satin suit inside her house. Her best friends, Portia Dunn and Celeste Harper, encouraged her to sashay and turn then turn and sashay. Ginger had recently purchased the suit at Macy's
.
The following Sunday would be Women's Day at church and as the emcee for the afternoon program, Ginger had planned on looking good.

Portia and Celeste were seated on opposite ivory chaise lounge chairs in Ginger's immaculate living room. White Berber carpet and white stone cocktail and end tables matched the white plantation shutters that covered the floor-to-ceiling bay windows. Ginger had broken a strict rule. She had been warned that no one, not even herself, who owned the house, was ever allowed to step a foot inside the sterile living room. Ginger, her live-in boyfriend, and guests must enter the house through the back door, at all times. But her significant other, Ronald, who enforced the rule, was not home. Therefore Ginger felt bold enough to entertain her friends in what she considered to be the most beautiful room in her home.

The thirty-two-inch space between the women seated served as a catwalk for Ginger to strut. “All right, Ginger, girl. Show us what you're working with,” Celeste encouraged her.

Ginger unbuttoned the suit jacket, slipped it off of her arms, then swung it over her left shoulder to reveal the silver-gray satin camisole she wore underneath. She turned away from Portia and Celeste, then strutted back to her starting point just at the archway that separated the living room from the dining room.

As Ginger walked away, Portia's smile quickly vanished when she noticed black and blue bruises on Ginger's right shoulder, next to the spaghetti strap of her camisole. She sat straight up on the chaise chair. “Ginger, what the heck is that on your shoulder?”

Portia's outburst startled both Ginger and Celeste.

Ginger had no clue that the boxing match from the previous night with Ronald was evident. She was usually extremely careful not to allow any bruises to show. Had she known the marks were visible, Ginger never would've taken off her jacket. “Oh, girl, it's nothing.” She quickly put the jacket back on. “Ronald got a little high last night. Y'all know how he gets.”

Ginger's poor excuse for being a punching bag was for her own benefit. Truth be told, she was quite embarrassed. How could she have been so careless and allow anyone to see the bruises?

When Ronald came home the evening before with his eyes glazed, Ginger knew he had brought trouble home with him. She was in the kitchen, standing at the stove, frying pork chops.

Celeste stood, went to Ginger, and forcefully pulled the jacket off her shoulders to get an up-close and personal look at the marks. Portia came and stood next to Celeste. The bruises were blue, black, and purple. They stopped just above Ginger's right elbow.

It wasn't the first, second, or third time Celeste and Portia witnessed bruises on Ginger. They had been begging Ginger to end her abusive relationship with Ronald ever since she moved him into her home three years ago. Last month Ginger showed up at church with a swollen busted lip that she tried to hide with lipstick. Portia and Celeste were so angry that they wanted to go to Ginger's house and confront Ronald, but just like all the times before, Ginger had begged them not to interfere. Now the three best friends stood in Ginger's living room facing the issue again for what seemed like the one hundredth time.

“Is that fool still pounding on you, Ginger?” Celeste asked.

Ginger's heart raced as tears began to run down her chocolate-colored face. “Celeste, please understand,” she pleaded.

Portia frowned. “Understand what, Ginger? That fool is out of control and you need to get away from him.”

“I'm calling the police.” Celeste returned to her chair for her purse. Her cell phone was inside.

Ginger was quickly on Celeste's heels. As soon as Celeste pulled her phone from her purse, Ginger snatched it out of her hand. “No, Celeste.”

Celeste placed her right hand on her hip and shifted all of her weight onto one leg. “No? What the heck do you mean no? Ronald needs to be locked up and you need to be institutionalized for allowing him to beat on you.”

By the expression on Ginger's face, Portia knew Celeste's words had hurt her. Celeste had basically accused Ginger of being crazy. Portia came and stood next to Ginger. “Celeste, I know you're upset but—”

“Upset?” Celeste cut Portia's words off. “Furious is what I am, Portia. And why are you so doggone calm about this? We've been dealing with this crap for three years. Did you get a good look at her back?”

Ginger placed her face in her hands and cried. Not only was she embarrassed, but if a call was made to the police and Ronald found out about it, Ginger knew she'd be in even more trouble with him.

Portia wrapped her arms around Ginger. “It's okay, sweetie. We're gonna get through this. We'll work it out.”

Celeste couldn't comprehend Portia's attitude about the situation Ginger was in. “How do you suppose we work this out, Portia? Huh?”

Portia guided Ginger to one of the chaise chairs and sat her down. “I don't know, Celeste. Let's talk about it.”

In Celeste's mind, talking with Ginger wasn't necessary. The only talking that needed to be done was on a 911 call. She hastily left the living room and walked toward Ginger's bedroom. “You and Ginger talk. I know what I'm gonna do.” In Ginger's bedroom, Celeste opened the closet door. She found a small suitcase and threw it on the bed. She snatched blouses, dresses, and pants off of racks and threw them on top of the suitcase. Ginger and Portia came into the bedroom and saw Celeste on a rampage. Just as Celeste was headed for the dresser, Ginger ran and stood in between it and Celeste.

“What are you doing, Celeste?” Ginger asked her.

“I'm helping you get through this. That's what I'm doing. Get out of my way.”

More tears ran down Ginger's face. “Ron apologized. He promised to never hit me again.”

“That's what he said the last time and the time before that, Ginger,” Portia interjected from the doorway. “When are you gonna learn that Ronald is sick?”

Ginger looked at her best friends through teary eyes. “Y'all just don't understand. He told me . . .” She couldn't finish her sentence as she choked back tears.

Celeste placed her hands on her hips again. “He told you what?”

Ginger knew that if she revealed what Ronald had told her years ago, all heck would break loose. She hesitated. She wondered how she could pacify this situation and calm Portia and Celeste down.

“He told you what?” Celeste's outburst startled Ginger.

Ginger opened her mouth and spoke softly. She looked into Portia's eyes because she didn't want to see the expression on Celeste's face. “Ron once told me that he'd kill me if I ever left him.”

Both Celeste and Portia's eyes grew wide. “What?” They screamed at the same time. Celeste became enraged. She was even more eager to pack Ginger's clothes and get her out of that house. “Move out of my way, Ginger.”

Ginger pleaded with Celeste to calm down. “Celeste, please understand.”

“Why do you keep saying that, Ginger? What is it that you want us to understand? You ain't married to that fool. Ron won't even give you his last name. He's too darn lazy to get a job. All he does is smoke weed all day. He's living in your house while you go to work every day. You pay the mortgage, utilities, and you buy the groceries. Ron has you so twisted that he makes you ask his permission to go to church. Plus he's ugly. I don't see how you can stand to look at him let alone sleep with him. You deserve better, Ginger. So, since you don't have enough brains to pack your bags, I'm gonna do it for you.” Celeste pushed Ginger aside and opened the top dresser drawer, then grabbed a handful of bras and panties and threw them on the bed.

Ginger grabbed her underwear from the bed and brought them back to the dresser. “Stop it, Celeste.”

Celeste ignored Ginger and proceeded to another drawer. She grabbed another handful of clothes and took them to the bed. On her second trip, she looked at Portia standing in the bedroom doorway. “What the heck are you just standing there for? You should be helping me.”

Portia didn't move. She was torn. She knew Celeste was doing the right thing by packing Ginger's clothes and of course she should be helping Celeste. But Ginger just said that Ronald would kill her if she left him. Portia watched as Celeste transferred clothes from the dresser to the suitcase; then she watched Ginger transfer clothes from the suitcase back to the dresser. Portia knew Celeste was out of control but, then again, enough was enough.

Ginger was crying and begging Celeste to stop trying to pack her clothes. Celeste forcefully took the clothes from her hand and looked at her. “Look, Ginger. I'm sick of this crap. Now, either we pack your clothes and you come home with me, or we pack Ron's clothes and set them out on the curb. One of you is getting the heck out of here tonight. Now, since this is your house, I'll let you decide. Because if he touches you again, I'm gonna pay somebody to touch him. So, who's leaving, you or Ron?”

Ginger didn't answer Celeste. She stood in the middle of her bedroom crying. Celeste waited five seconds then threw the clothes on top of the suitcase and proceeded to the dresser to grab more. Ginger reached out to try and stop Celeste, but lost her balance and fell. She managed to grab a hold of Celeste's left leg. Celeste stumbled but was able to deliver the suitcase's deposit. Ginger begged and cried for Celeste to stop packing her clothes. “Celeste, please. Please, Celeste.”

Celeste dragged Ginger from the dresser to the bed as she continued to pack her clothes. “Portia, get her off of me.”

Portia had a decision to make. She could only pray that Ginger would eventually forgive her and Celeste for doing what had to be done. She went to Ginger and pulled her arms from around Celeste's legs. “Ginger, we gotta do this.”

Ginger stopped fighting. She knew that her friends were relentless and they were not going to let her stay in her home as long as Ronald resided there also. But Ginger also knew that she needed to come up with a plan to get Portia and Celeste to leave before Ronald got home. “Okay. Okay, I'll go to the police station.” She told them what they wanted to hear.

Portia released Ginger's arms. “You will?”

“Now you're talking like you got some common sense, Ginger.” Celeste said. She grabbed the suitcase by the handle. “ You're coming home with me after we leave the police station.”

“Okay.” Ginger didn't argue. She wanted them to leave. She had a plan.

* * *

Celeste, Ginger, and Portia rode in silence to the police station. It was when Celeste drove into a parking spot and put the gear in park that Ginger said from the back seat, “I'm not doing it.”

Both Portia and Celeste turned around and looked at her. Celeste was furious. “What the heck you mean you're not doing it?”

Ginger turned her head away from her friends and looked out of the window. “I've changed my mind.”

Portia looked at Celeste and exhaled loudly. “Now what?”

Without a word Celeste removed her key from the ignition. “I'll be right back.” She opened the door and got out of the car. Celeste shut the door and pressed a button on her remote. The feature that Celeste had on her car was the same feature that the police use as car bait. Once a button is pressed on the remote, the car can't be opened from the inside. Because the windows were raised, Celeste couldn't hear the foul names Ginger called her as she ran, through the rain, inside the police station.

Five minutes later Celeste returned to her car with an African American female. Celeste felt that a black lady cop would be better suited than a man to convince Ginger to press criminal charges against Ronald and leave him for good.