Just Make Him Beautiful (23 page)

“Really?” I asked, excited.

“Absolutely
.
W
henever you like
.
”
H
e show
ed
that Colgate smile once again
.
“But
…
”

“See, I knew you didn’t mean it
.
”

“Oh, but I did.”

“So
,
why did you say
but
?”

“You have to be legal.
You have to wait until you’re
eighteen
.”

“Yesterday was my birthday
.
I just turned
eighteen
, see,” I said like a little kid
,
pointing to all the birthday cards that sat in the window
sill
.

Mr. Jamison looked over at my birt
hday cards.
“So you are
.
H
ow could I have forgotten that quickly?”

Mr. Jamison and I talked and joked for another hour or so but were interrupted when my mom
came
in the room.

“Hey
,
s
weetie
.
How are you feeling today?” Mom asked, looking strangely at Mr. Jamison.

“I’m feeling good
,
Ma. By the way, this Mr. Jamison
.
Mr. Jamison
,
this is my mom
.
”

Mr. Jamison stood up and shook my mom’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you
,
m
a’am
.
”

“You too,” my mom said, returning the gesture.

Mr. Jamison said,
“Well
,
Cam
, I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time. Call me when you get home, okay
.
”

“Okay, I will,” I replied like some lovesick puppy.

*

My first week
at
home was fabulous. My mom waited on me hand and foot. My little sister Keshia even pitched in and helped
M
om around the house with the cleaning, bringing me my food in bed and washing the dishes.

Robin was still busy with her SAT
,
but we spoke every night before going to bed. I told her that Mr. Jamison had stopped by the hospital to see me and
had
even invited me to come and stay with him. Ms. Fag
-
hag was floored.

Ms. Fag
-
hag started telling me about
Kurt,
her new boyfriend.
His name sound
ed
familiar
,
but I couldn’t remember where I had heard it. But
she
went on and on about how sexy he was and how he
gave her
money just to go shopping. I was genuinely happy for Robin
.
S
he
was
good people, and she deserve
d
to be happy.

As for my stepdad, we only spoke in passing.

A few weeks later, I caught my stepdad several times giving head to these little boys in the neighborhood. This one little boy who
went
by the name Crisco, I kn
e
w for a fact,
was
only
fifteen
.

And the following day, Crisco’s friend Damien, who
was
only
sixteen
, had stopped by
,
and my stepdad serviced him too. My stepdad didn’t know I saw him
,
because he thought I was still bedridden
,
but I wasn’t.

W
hat my stepdad was doing made me angry and physically sick. Yet still, he walked around here and
went
to church every Sunday like nothing ever happened. I
c
ould never forgive him for what he
was
doing and what he
’d
said to me. And again, the only reason why I
’d
never mentioned it to my mom
was
because I knew it would hurt her deeply and I couldn’t bring myself to be the cause of that pain.

The police had stopped by a couple of times. The first time was to get my story again
,
and the second time was to bring some mugs shots, hoping I would be able to pick out the thugs
who
did this to me. Of course, my story never wavered
,
and even though I saw Junior
’
s picture in the mix, I never pointed him out.  I had other plans for Junior.

This one day, when I thought I was home alone, I had come down the stairs to fix me something to eat.

Before walking into the kitchen,
I heard a familiar voice say,
“Who’s yo
’
d
addy
?
”

I stopped in my tracks, tiptoed
,
and hid behind the dining room door. I pe
e
ked in
,
and my mouth almost hit the floor.
My stepdad was lean
ing
up against the kitchen table
, and
Junior was
fuck
ing him
. I couldn’t believe it.
I bec
a
me dizzy and thought I was going to faint,
so
I grabbed one of the dining room chairs just to hold myself up.

I tiptoed back upstairs to my room and closed my bedroom door. I
lay
down on my bed in the fetal position with the covers over my head and rocked myself back and forth. The idea of Junior being in my house terrified me
.
A
ll I wanted to do was get the hell out of here.

I
peeked
out of the covers and grabbed my cell phone and called Robin to see if she was home, but she wasn’t
.
M
y mom was at the hospital, doing her volunteer work.

Think
,
c
hile, think
, I thought to myself. And
then
it dawned on me
.
Mr. Jamison.
He
’d
told me to call him when I got home anyway.

“
W
hat did I do with his card?” I asked myself. I got out of my bed and pulled every piece of clothing in my closet out on the floor.

After several minutes of searching and throwing my clothes about my room like a mad person, I finally came across Mr. Jamison’s card. I climbed back in my bed, threw the covers over my head
,
and dialed the number on the card.

“Hello,” Mr. Jamison said.

I whispered,
“Ah, Mr. Jamison, this is Cameron.
Can you come get me?”

“Who is this again?”

“This is Cameron.”

“Cameron, what’s wrong
?
W
hy are you whispering? I can barely hear you.”

“Somebody is here in my house
,
and I don’t wanna be here. Can you come get me?” I asked, practically begging.

“Sure, no problem
.
W
here are you?”

“Can you meet me on the corner of
Centre Street
and
Malcolm Avenue
in
twenty
minutes?”

“See you then,” he said, and hung up the phone.

I got fully dressed in no time
.
 

A
s soon as I opened my door, my stepdad was at the top of the stairs
.
He
turned towards me and asked, “Where are you going?”

Chile
, I was so s
cared
, I felt like Ms.
Celie
in
The Color Purple
. And like Ms.
Celie
, the only thing that came to my mind was, “Nowhere!”
M
y heart
was about to jump
out of my chest.

My stepdad walked into his bedroom, so I closed the door and place
d
my hand across my chest. “Whew
,
c
hile
!
B
e still
,
my heart,” I said, breathing heavily
,
lean
ing
up against the door.
That was too close for comfort
, I thought to myself.

I looked at my watch and realized I only had six minutes or so to meet Mr. Jamison
.
T
he location I
’d
given
him was a few blocks away. I tiptoed over to one of my bedroom windows and pulled it up as far as it would go. I climbed out onto the roof and looked over the edge to see how far I would have to jump.
B
aby, there was no way I could jump from there without spraining something.

I started to go back inside my bedroom window, but then I heard someone knocking on my bedroom door.
I turned around, walked back over to the edge of the roof, counted to ten
,
and jumped. 

Fortunately, I only got stuck by some thorns from the bushes outside my house. I got up, brushed myself off
,
and walked as fast as my little yella ass would take me.

I reached the corner where I told Mr. Jamison to meet me
,
and sure enough, I saw him sitting there in his black 2001 Escalade. He must have been jamming to the music because he was bobbing his head up and down and didn’t notice me standing there.

I knocked on the passenger side window to get his attention.

“Hey
,
s
hawty,” he said, opening the door for me and turning down his rap music.

“Hey
,
yourself
.
”
I climb
ed
in and buckl
ed
my seat
belt.

“W
hat’s going on
?” he asked, pulling away from the curb.
“W
hat was the emergency?”

“I’m never going back to that house again
.
”

“What happened?”
H
e looked over at me
.
I guess
he
realized I really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Look, why don’t I take you to my house
.
Y
ou can freshen up, get a good meal
,
and relax. How’s that
?
W
ould you like that?”

“Yes, I would love that
.
”  

Chapter 13

We drove on the outskirt
s
of town into a very exclusive neighborhood. I’
d
been in this area
only
one time in my life
,
when my mom had taken a job house
-
sitting
for
this old
,
rich white lady. I started thinking,
How could Mr. Jamison afford living here on a teacher’s salary?

We pulled up in front of a black wrought iron gate that appeared to wrap around acres of property. Mr. Jamison punched in a few numbers
,
and the gate opened
automatically.
We drove along a brick road
with
manicured bush on both sides,
and
a whole lot of lawn to go with it. I d
id
n’t know how many acres of land this property held
,
but I was in awe. Mr. Jamison knew I was impressed because he kept looking at me out the corner of his eyes and smiling.

As I looked ahead, we were approachi
ng what looked like a mansion.
“Whose place is this
?
” I asked
.

W
e came to a stop at the front door.

“Mine,” he said in a matter
-
of
-
fact tone. “Come on, let’s go
.
”

I opened the car door and walked
behind
him
.
I couldn’t wait to see what it looked like on
the
inside.
Honey
, Robin gonna gag when she sees where
a true diva s
’
pose to live
,
I thought to myself.

Mr. Jamison opened the door and allowed me to enter first. I walked in and stood in the middle of the foyer
with my mouth hung open in complete awe. The wooden floors were bare and so shiny
,
I could actually see my reflection in them. 

“What’s wrong
?
A
re you ok
ay
?” Mr. Jamison walked pas
t
me, into the sunk
en
living room area.

“I’m fine,” I replied, trying not to seem too pressed. But the truth of the matter was, I was pressed
.
V
ery pressed. I had never seen a place like this other than on
MTV Cribs
.

I walked down into the sunk
en
living room area
,
where Mr. Jamison stood behind the bar fixing us a drink. 

“Make
yourself
at home,”
he
said as he handed me my drink.

I took my drink and sat down on this huge dark cherry
-
colored leather couch. I began sipping my drink and looked around the room at all the gorgeous pieces of furniture and artwork that hung on the walls. The room was definitely decorated in a manly fashion because
,
as nice as everything was, it was only in earth tone
s
. No bright pastel colors needed
.
T
his was a man’s home
,
or shall I say castle
,
but now that I
was t
here, it definitely needed a
d
iva
’
s touch.

I noticed a
fireplace on the left hand side of the wall
that
seemed to light on its own as Mr. Jamison flipped a switch
, and
a round cherry
wood coffee table sat right in front of the couch.
And
an identical brown leather couch sat right across from the one I was sitting on.

The ceiling was so high
,
and
it hung a huge chandelier overhead
,
for a minute I felt like I was in church. On the right hand side of the room, all to itself
,
sat an
all-white
upright piano with a silver candelabra on top. The paintings on the walls were not your average paintings that most black folks adorn
ed
their walls with.
He
had paintings of landscapes and some shit I couldn’t figure out
,
what they called
a
bstract
a
rt.
B
ut they all
had
gold
-
structured frames that appear
ed
to have cost an arm and a leg.
             

“Ah, Cameron,” Mr. Jamison uttered, interrupting my thoughts.

“Oh my bad
.
D
id you ask me something?”

“I asked if you wanted me to take you on a tour of my home before you freshen up.”

“I would love a tour
.
” I swallow
ed
the last of my drink and fe
lt
a little light
-
headed as I tried to stand.

“Maybe that drink was a little to
o
strong for you, huh
.
” Mr. Jamison smiled, as he grabbed me by my waist to catch me from falling.

“Naw, I’m fine
.
”

Mr. Jamison began leading me by the hand up the spiral staircase
,
going from one room to another.

“How many bedrooms you have?”

“There are five bedrooms and four and a half bathrooms.”

“Which bedroom will I sleep in?”
I asked,
hoping he would say his.

“Take your pick.”

The bedrooms were so huge
;
one could actually live in that one room. And each one had a large flat
-
screen TV attached to the wall. The bedroom furniture was different for each room
.

O
ne of the bedrooms w
as
definitely decorated with a female in mind. The white flower comforter matched the tables and dresser along with the curtains that hung from the windows and a matching ceiling fan. This was definitely the bedroom for me.

Another
bedroom had masculine dark
-
striped wallpaper, with a dark maroon bedspread, along with matching drapes and cherry
-
wood furniture.
The next two bedrooms had a juvenile feel to them. I d
id
n’t know if Mr. Jamison had any children or younger siblings who lived with him
,
but I definitely needed to find out.

The last bedroom was the
m
aster bedroom, Mr. Jamison’s bedroom.
 
I was so blown away when I entered his bedroom.
Chile
, had you ever seen one of the rooms where you could be happy to die in? That’s the thought I had when I entered his room.

Everything in the room was white or silver.
The king
-
size bed had a white down comforter with the initials KJ embroider
ed
in silver right in the center
,
and
it
look
ed
like he had fifty or so white pillows piled up at the headboard. A large movie
-
like screen projector TV
tuned to Sports
Channel
hung on the wall.