Double Dippin' (28 page)

The bar he selected catered to a much older crowd, which was fine with Shane. The patrons were quiet and laid-back. The barmaid, who told him her name was Trisha, looked to be in her late forties, maybe fifty. Obviously attracted to Shane, Trisha kept up a steady flow of free drinks, which he had no problem accepting.

Despite being grief-stricken, lost, and distraught, Shane managed to hold a conversation with the mature barmaid.

Trisha’s face was pleasant enough, with a wrinkle or two here and there, but that didn’t bother Shane; he was used to older women. She was also rather flabby around the waist, which wasn’t an issue either. It wasn’t her face or her waistline that was of interest to Shane.

It was her breasts that had him transfixed, making him want to get to know her better. Her big sagging breasts influenced him to leave the bar with her at closing time.

Trisha revved up the sputtering engine of an old, cranky Chevy. She drove toward Elmwood Avenue and pulled into the Bartrum Garden apartments where she lived.

She wore a pleased expression, which seemed to imply that she had lucked up in bringing home a fine young specimen such as Shane. Nosey neighbors sitting on the stoop drinking and shooting the breeze fell silent when Trisha and Shane approached. Trisha cast them a triumphant expression as she led Shane to her apartment. They went straight into her bedroom. She dimmed the lights and took off her clothes and quickly got under the covers to hide the bodily imperfections brought on by years of eating greasy food and leading a sedentary lifestyle.

Shane undressed and joined her, instantly fondling the flabby softness of her protruding belly. He caressed the woman’s saddlebag hips and the excess rolls
of flesh around her midsection and up and down her back. His mouth sought the comfort of her big pendulous breasts. Her bosom was a lifeline.

Shane sucked hard and hungrily until Trisha gave subtle signals that it was time to move down further. Ignoring her signals, Shane kept a suction hold on her nipple.

“That’s enough, baby,” Trisha said, trying to ease Shane off her breast. “Don’t you want to get busy?” She spread her legs invitingly.

Shane stuck a finger in the moist fleshy area to appease her, but he continued sucking her nipple.

“Stop!” Trisha said in a harsh tone. “You’re hurting me.” She tried to disengage her nipple from Shane’s mouth.

“Just another minute,” he pleaded. Damn, he missed his mom. He missed the warm milk. He didn’t like Trisha’s dry-ass titties. Not wanting to give in to more tears, Shane chose anger as an emotional release. He deliberately bit Trisha’s nipple.

“Ow!” she shouted.

“Why you gotta keep complaining?”

“I know you don’t think I brought you home with me so you could bite on my boobs all night!” She rolled her eyes in indignation.

And that’s when Shane felt the pain of his loss—and the rage it brought on. Who would ever treat him the way his mom had? Nobody. Hot fury washed over him. He slapped Trisha across the face.

With her mouth opened in shock, Trisha turned her head in the direction of the telephone. No doubt, she was going to call the police. Shane balled his angry fists and sent a flurry of blows to her face and head.

Screaming, she protected her face with her hands. His punches now landed on her chest and arms. A powerful gut punch left Trisha breathless. As she lay gasping, Shane kicked her and then dressed hurriedly. He knew Trisha had made tips that night, so he quickly dumped out the contents of her pocketbook, seized eighty dollars in small bills, and fled the apartment.

He started running when he got outside. Running in case Trisha had called the police. Tears wet his cheeks as he recalled the violence he’d inflicted upon his foster mother years ago. Was he crazy, he wondered? His birth mother was
crazy. Had she passed her insanity on to him? No, he wasn’t crazy, he told himself as he continued to run like the wind. Crazy people walked around mumbling and harassing people. He just had a bad temper. That was all. A really bad temper.

Running from his demons, Shane didn’t stop moving until his legs finally gave out.

D
olores Holmes would have been proud of her memorial service. The choir sang two selections and Reverend Daniels preached a sermon with such passion, one would have assumed he was personally acquainted with the large woman who’d been reduced to ashes inside an urn. The urn, illuminated by light, was positioned prominently before the altar.

Tariq attended the service with his brother. Shane’s request that he accompany him to the funeral had come from out of the blue. He had no idea Shane had renewed a relationship with their ex-foster mother. Although he was more confused than bereft, Tariq was nevertheless moved to tears by the fervent words of the minister.

Shane wept unashamedly throughout the entire ceremony. Afterward, he thanked and shook hands with the pastor. He introduced Tariq to Reverend Daniels and Felicia Bradley, whom he referred to as Mrs. Bradley in public.

“Your mother’s with the Lord now, boys. She’s at peace,” Reverend Daniels said to Shane and Tariq.

Tariq nodded uncomfortably. His head was spinning in confusion as he shook hands with the parishioners who came up to shake his hand, wearing grave expressions as they offered their condolences for his “mother.”

When Tariq had a moment alone with Shane, he said, “I can’t believe you and Miz Holmes were living together. How come you never mentioned it?”

“Man, she was doing bad, living in some boarding home. I was just trying to make up for all the bad stuff that happened to her. You know…help her out and everything.”

Tariq listened intently with an arched brow, his chin cradled between the V of his thumb and index finger. “Okay, but how come you got all these people believing she’s our real mother?”

Shane narrowed his eyes. “She’s the only mother we ever had.”

“I know. But we haven’t seen her in years.”

“
You
ain’t seen her. I been lookin’ out for her for a while.”

“You should have told me, Shane. You didn’t have to carry the burden by yourself.”

“You got your own family and everything; you didn’t need no extra mouth to feed. Anyway, I wanted to do it. I was the one who got her in all that trouble.”

Tariq grimaced. “You lied on Miz Holmes?”

“No, I didn’t lie on her. She was so drunk when they came to the house, she wasn’t making any sense. Somehow they got her words twisted and
thought
she molested me,” Shane explained.

“So, how come you didn’t tell the truth?”

“I was scared, man. I didn’t wanna testify in no courtroom.” Shane hung his head in shame. “That’s why I had to help her out. I owed her that much.”

“What about Miss Goldie?”

Shane shrugged. “I don’t know nothin’ about that. I swear, Tariq,” Shane said, lying. “I don’t know how Miss Goldie’s name got dragged in that mess.”

“You ever hear from LaDonna?”

“Naw and I ain’t trying to see her either. I know she hates my guts.” Shane was thoughtful for a moment. “Look, man, let’s leave Miss Goldie and LaDonna in the past.” He looked down in thought. “I don’t know how to explain my relationship with Miz Holmes…” Shane paused. “You have Janelle and your son. You have a family. I don’t have nothing. I needed her, man; she was more than a mother. And she needed me. You hear what I’m saying?”

Despair emanated from Shane; his tortured expression nearly broke Tariq’s heart. Tariq realized how fortunate he was to have Janelle. Janelle was more than a wife. Like a mother, she was a strict disciplinarian. He loved her so much he was able to tolerate the cruel streak she exhibited at times when she seemed to maliciously test the boundaries of his love by making unreasonable demands of him.

Still, Tariq believed with all his heart that Janelle loved him. Maybe not as much as he loved her, but enough to keep him satisfied. Tariq didn’t think he could survive without Janelle. He wasn’t strong enough.

Scratching his head, he tried to make sense of the relationship between Shane and Ms. Holmes, but he couldn’t figure it out. Shane had vehemently denied the rumors that Ms. Holmes had molested him. Tariq frowned at the thought. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the sweet woman doing what she was accused of.

Still, there was no denying that there was something weird going on with Shane and Ms. Holmes, Tariq thought, grimly recalling how disrespectful she’d allowed Shane to treat her back when she was their foster mother.

But it was safer to let sleeping dogs lie, so he decided not to pry into Shane’s business. Hell, he didn’t fully comprehend his relationship with his own wife, so how could he begin to understand what Shane and Ms. Holmes were doing? The one thing he did understand was his brother’s need to belong. Apparently, Ms. Holmes was a comfort to Shane.

“Why don’t you stay with me and Janelle tonight?” Tariq offered. “You probably shouldn’t stay in that apartment tonight. Um…too many memories in there,” he stammered. “I can help you get rid of her things tomorrow if you want.”

Shane shook his head. “No, I’m leaving all her stuff just like it is.”

Tariq didn’t argue with Shane; he didn’t want to provoke him into shedding more tears. Trying to come up with a way to take his brother’s mind off of his grief, Tariq said, “Yo, man. My job is hiring. You looking for a real gig?”

“Naw, I like pimpin’,” Shane said, and finally submitted to laughter. “Pimpin’ ain’t easy, the pay ain’t dependable…but I do aiight,” he bragged.

Tariq shook his head. He didn’t approve of the way Shane used women but he was relieved to see his brother finally smile. “Man, I’m only offering the job so you can get away from here for a while. You know…take your mind off everything. We have a job coming up in a couple of days—moving some stuff to South Carolina. My boss is looking for a few extra hands. We hardly see each other, I could use the company and you can get your rent without pimpin’ innocent women,” Tariq said, laughing.

Shane thought for a moment. “Do I have to fill out an application and shit?”

“No, I can get you in on this job on the strength that you’re my twin brother. I’m cool with the office manager. Her name’s Kapri; she can get you in.”

“Aw shit,” Shane teased. “Don’t tell me you’re creepin’ on Janelle?”

“Never.” Tariq said, appalled that Shane would even entertain such a thought.

“No, me and Kapri are real tight. She’s like the sister I never had.”

“Aiight, man. I’ll check out the job situation, but I’m staying at my own place tonight.”

“You sure you gon’ be all right?”

“Man, I ain’t no baby. I’m cool,” Shane said gruffly. “Let’s go, I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”

When the bus arrived, the brothers embraced. Tariq gave Shane a cautious look. He knew Shane was in emotional turmoil but he repressed the urge to beg his brother to spend the night with him and Janelle. He hated the thought of his grief-stricken brother returning to the apartment he shared with Ms. Holmes.

“Seriously, man. I’m aiight,” Shane said in response to Tariq’s worried expression. He shifted awkwardly and then added, “Look, I’m gonna take that trip to South Carolina just to spend some time with you. Aiight?”

As he stepped onto the bus, Tariq leaned out the door. Cupping a hand to the side of his mouth, he yelled out to Shane, “Don’t let me down, man.”

Shane whirled around. “I’m there, man. I gotchu!”

Unaccustomed to keeping morning hours, Shane overslept. Knowing Tariq would be disappointed if he didn’t show, he called his brother immediately. “I overslept, man. I’m not gonna be able to make it to your place by seven. I guess I’ll catch you on the next trip.”

“You can make it, Shane. You’re closer to Rose Moving Company than you are to my apartment.” Tariq gave Shane the address of his employer. “Take the bus over there and wait for me in the lobby. I’ll call Kapri and tell her to look out for you.”

“Aiight,” Shane said reluctantly. He was hoping to get out of the moving job. Moving furniture and shit sounded like something more suitable for a husky dude like Brick. Shane wasn’t cut out for hard labor. Pimpin’ was a pain but it bought weed and paid the rent. Damn, he was sorry he let Tariq talk him into this bullshit.

An hour later, Shane sauntered into the office of Rose Moving Company. A cute, peach-colored young woman sat behind the desk. She wore glasses, which didn’t distract from her good looks. In fact, the glasses added something—made Shane think of the meek type who’d whip off the glasses in the bedroom, yank the hair pin from her modest upswept hairdo, and transform into a sexual beast. Shane smiled at his inner vision.

“Good morning,” she said sweetly and smiled back. The woman’s warm smile didn’t surprise Shane; he was accustomed to good treatment from females. But he
was
surprised at the rate his heart was thumping.

She stood up and stuck out a dainty little French-manicured hand. “I’m Kapri. You must be Shane Batista.” The scent of citrus wafted from her. Unconsciously, Shane inhaled generously.

“Whassup, Kapri,” Shane said. With the sweet smell of citrus filling his nostrils, it was difficult for Shane to keep his voice steady. He felt an instant and powerful attraction to the pretty, petite young lady. He wrinkled his forehead in confusion.