Flip Side of the Game (9 page)

Then there was the kickoff of all roller skating get downs, the roller skating version of the stepper's dance! This was straight on and poppin'. So, when the young lady rolled up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “May I speak to you for a moment?” I ain't think shit of it.

Taj didn't even notice. He said he had to go to the bathroom, and for me to hold that step because he would be right back.

“May I help you?” I asked, breathing heavy, but smiling at the same time.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” Now I was pretty much taken aback. I figured at most this heifer was admiring my gear and wanted to know where I got the Donna Karan leather shorts from.

“Look, I'ma get right to the point,” she said with a straight face to let me know there was no bullshit between us. “That guy you were just dancing with is my man.”

“What? Taj?”

“Yes, Taj. I understand that he's cool and all, and him being a doctor will attract a lot of groupies, but from one sista to the next, respect my place and step off!” Then she topped it off with a Barbie-doll smile.

Well, you know ole girl, so as you can imagine, I was 'bout to read her, and right at the point where I went to tell the bitch about how, if he was her man, he sure could eat a good pussy, I changed my mind.

“You know what, sista? I'ma let you get that for the moment, because I respect your forwardness. But check this, when Taj comes back, we will speak to him together.” Then I hit her ass right back with her fake-ass Barbie smile. “By the way, what's your name?”

“Ja . . . mil . . . lah,” she said, nice and slow with an exuberant amount of confidence.

Taj came back, and he still didn't notice Jamillah standing next to me. He took me by both my arms and pulled me close. “You look good as hell, girl,” he said playfully. “What's your name, and do you have a man?”

“My name,” I said, backing away from his embrace, “is Vera, but her name is Ja . . . mil . . . lah. And do I have a man? Well, the one I thought I had, she said is hers.”

He was shocked as hell, but then the doctor, non-cha-lant, non-emotional shit kicked in and he said, “How are you, Jamillah?”

“How am I? How am I?” she asked with a chuckle of disbelief. “I was quite well until I got here,” she responded.

“Really? Would you like to talk about it?”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Jamillah said with her neck in full motion. “Taj, why are you playing games? You think this shit is funny?”

“What's funny?”

“Taj, it was my understanding that you were my man, so what are you doing out with someone else? Don't you feel the slightest bit busted?”

“I feel a little odd and awkward, because I would have never set up a meeting like this, but for you to say that I'm your man is way off course.”

“Off course!” the bitch shouted.

Now, usually I woulda jumped in, but not this time. This nigga had to wear this one, 'cause had I gotten into it, I woulda punched the bitch in her face first and talked later.

“Whose house were you at the other night?” Jamillah asked.

“Yours.”

My heart cracked when he said that, but I played it cool and stood there.

“Well, then,” she said, more to me than to him.

“But what does that mean?” Taj asked

“Excuse you?”

“Listen, let's get this straight now. There's no you and I. There was no you and I the other night, tonight, or tomorrow, for that matter. You and I haven't slept together. You're good people, a nice conversation, but that's it. I'm embarrassed that you're even acting like this. So, check it. You're not my lady, my girlfriend, or anything else that involves commitment, so stop telling people that!”

Well, that did it for me! Now I was pissed the fuck off! “People? People? Oh, hell no, mu'fucker. My name is Vera,” I said, looking dead in ole boy's grill. “Furthermore,” I said, feeling like I was going to break, “she doesn't owe me any explanations.”

“Look, boo,” I turned to her and said. “If this is your man, then place a red bow on top of his head, because you can have him! I'm outta here!”

“Get your ass back here!” Taj demanded, with his left jaw thumpin'. He then grabbed me tight by my forearm. “Stand still! I'm tired of you running. You're not going anywhere! You will listen to what I have to say, and when you leave out that door, it'll be the same way you came in here. With me!”

I do believe that if Jamillah could've caught me sleeping and gut-punched my ass, the ho would've tried it. She stood there speechless, while Taj totally ignored her, trying to get me to stand next to him.

“So, that's how it is, Taj?” Jamillah said, breaking her silence.

“That's how it's been!”

“Fuck you!” she screamed, roller skating off. “And fuck you too, bitch!”

“And you,” Taj said, turning toward me, “don't you ever let anyone come up in yo' face and question your position with me! You supposed to be so tough, but you let this chick punk you into backing me into a corner, then you try and leave me standing here with her. What kind of weak-ass game is that? I thought you had yo' shit covered!

“You got issues, you know that? You made these rules, and now you can't live by them. Let me tell you something. You see this game shit you got going on over here, I got it down pat, and I told you once before, you cannot out hustle me, so stop trying! And when you lay down laws and you say shit like ‘don't hate the player, hate the game,' you have to be able to work that shit! Don't be scared! What, you can't hang? Isn't this what you wanted? The flip side of the game?”

After we left the roller skating rink, Taj and I were silent for most of the night, other than to make love, which I guess was a conversation in and of itself. I mean, really, what was I going to say? Why did I let myself fall in love with you? This shit was suddenly beyond my control, and for the first time in a long time, Vera Wright-Turner was speechless. All I could do was watch this man and try not to think about Rowanda, about Grandma, or about Lincoln Street. All I wanted on my mind was me and my man. And for the moment, where you can take your index finger and go pop, was about the length of time I was able to make this accomplishment.

 

 

For most of my life, Aunt Cookie would never let me forget who my mother was, which was why she didn't allow me to call her Mommy. Even when she would refer to me as her daughter, and she knew that I loved her like a mother, she would always say, “I don't want you to forget Rowanda. You're with me because she loved you.”

Then she would say, “Your mother is as much a part of you as you are a part of you.”

I would always cry and feel like I was never good enough for anybody to be my mother, and then, much like I am now, I would think about Lincoln Street and about the time when Grandma's man held me down, the same man that was there when she died.

He came in the bedroom, walked over to me, twirled my braids, and told me how pretty I looked with my “fat ass” and “chubby li'l pussy.” Nobody said a word.

“You gonna have to wear this one,” he said. “Nobody told you to be coming in here looking at me like that.”

“But I ain't seen you today. I been in here looking out the window.”

“You been in the other room looking at me,” he said. “Lay down or I'll kill ya.”

Shortly after that, Rowanda tried to kill Grandma's man. When Rowanda came home from jail, I saw her sitting on the bench in the middle of the courtyard.

“Where you been, Rowanda?” I yelled, while doing a summersault across the bench that sat in front of Building 251A.

“I been gone,” she said.

“Gone where?”

“To jail, baby.”

“I ain't no baby.”

“You my baby,” she insisted.

“Yo' baby? I ain't got no mama. You ain't my mama. You'se a crackhead.”

 

 

Before I could shake my thoughts about being raped and come back to the present, Taj rolled on top of me and started running his hands between my thighs and sucking on my breast. I tensed up. He had started kissing down the middle of my stomach and making his way to my thighs when he realized that my body was stiff.

He lifted his head up, rolled over, and said, “Tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing,” I said with a slight tremble. “Why did you stop?”

“Because you wanted me to.”

“I never said that,” I said, looking away from him.

“Look at me,” he said. “I'm talking to you. Now, tell me the truth.”

“Nothing is wrong, Taj!” I snapped.

“Vera, usually when I suck on your breast, kiss you on your stomach, and get ready to go down and taste you, your body melts. I know your body better than I know my own. Now, tell me what you were thinking, and don't lie. You were thinking about when you were a little girl weren't you?”

“Yes,” I said, looking away.

“Look at me. I'm right here.”

I looked at him, and tears started to build in my eyes. “When I was a little girl,” I said, “my grandmother's man raped me, the same one that was there when she died. The same man that splashed in the puddle of her blood and left his footprint. I bled for days after he raped me, and when Rowanda came home, she noticed that I had blood running down my legs. She took me to the hospital, and they told her that I had been raped.”

Taj started biting his bottom lip, and his eyes became glassy. “What did Rowanda do?” he asked.

“She carried me home from the hospital, placed me in the bed, and went in the kitchen with Grandma and her man. She grabbed a knife and stabbed him twenty times. The only thing that stopped her was when Grandma beat her in the head. After that, Grandma called the police, and Rowanda was arrested. She spent eighteen months in prison.” My shoulders started to shake. I couldn't hold the tears in any longer. I started to cry.

“It's over, baby,” Taj said, kissing my tears. “You're mine now.”

Taj held me in between his arms, and I felt safe lying against his chest. “Vera, I swear to God,” he said, “if I could find that motherfucka, I would kill him!”

“Shh,” I said. “Don't say that.” I could feel Taj tighten his embrace as I lay my head on his chest and I fell asleep.

When the phone rang, I jumped. I looked up at Taj, and I could see he had been watching me while I was asleep. He kissed me on my forehead and pressed the speaker button on the phone. “Hello,” he said.

“Come on over here and let Aunt Cookie grease your scalp,” Aunt Cookie said, not realizing at first that Taj was the one who answered the phone. “Wait a minute. Hello?”

“How are you?” Taj said.

“Who is this?”

“Taj.”

“Hey, Babyboy, show me whatcha workin' wit'! Where is my Vera?”

“Right here.”

“Oh, 'cause I'll fuck 'em up!” She laughed. “You know how I do it!”

Taj took the phone off the receiver and handed me the earpiece while he clicked off the speaker option.

“I see Taj sticking around.” Aunt Cookie chuckled. “Don't go jumping the gun.”

“He answering your phone and you telling me not to jump the gun? Hell, the way I see it, the only thing left is to jump the broom.”

“Anyway, Aunt Cookie, as soon as I get dressed I'll be over there.”

When I got up to get dressed, Taj lay in the bed and watched me stroll around the room naked.

“What are you looking at?” I said, teasing him.

“You.”

“Why?”

“'Cause right now, I feel like I want to protect you from the world.”

“Taj, don't worry about me. Believe me when I tell you I can take care of myself. Now, go to sleep. You know you have a long shift coming up.”

By the time I got ready to leave, Taj had fallen asleep. I kissed him on the forehead before I left.

 

 

Aunt Cookie was sitting on her front stoop when I got there. She already had the grease and the comb on the ledge, waiting for me like she used to when I was a little girl and she would braid my hair. We used to sit on the porch, while Uncle Boy sat on the bottom step shootin' craps with his friends, playing cards, or simply drinking an ice cold beer. I used to love those times.

I smiled when I saw Aunt Cookie, and I walked up the stairs to where she was and gave her a hug and told her that I loved her.

I nestled my head in the creases of Aunt Cookie's soft thigh, while holding the jar of black Dax grease. She reached for a finger full to place on the back of her hand.

“You think Rowanda ever been clean?” I asked her.

“Depends on what you mean by clean. You mean, ever had a clean path or ever had a clean mind, a clean dream, or ever been clean from a crack pipe or a dope needle?”

“Clean of everything.”

“Nobody is clean of everything, at least not in these parts. I always say, ‘There but for the grace of God, go I.' Aunt Cookie have done a lot of things in her day. Some things folks know about, and some things folks don't, but it all made me who I am today.

“Rowanda never been shown how to be clean. She never knew not to be turned out, never knew not to jones for love, or not to jones for drugs.”

“What does that mean?”

“Rowanda never been clean. Your grandmother carried on generations of hurt and pain, caused by somebody daddy or mama who died long ago.

“Rowanda used to beg for money on the street, and Larry used to feed her. He would give her money 'cause he was a big time drug dealer. Larry ain't never gave a shit 'bout nobody but Larry, and somehow Rowanda got mixed up in there. Larry put her on the block, made her hustle her ass, and instead of cash, he offered her stash—a stash of dreams that would take her away from her day-to-day existence.”