On the Run with Love (16 page)

Simone pushed her shopping cart through the Winn-Dixie supermarket absentmindedly. She shopped by rote, grabbing the things she knew they needed without thinking about it. Her mind was on the mess her life had become, the mess she had let it become. She told herself at JFK that she was making a mistake, but she ignored her mind and followed her heart. Now she was trapped. She glided along to the checkout counter and waited as the extremely slow new employee rang up the person in front of her.

“Excuse me, miss,” the older brother in front of Simone asked the checkout girl politely, “but since when is Tide detergent $20.35?” He smiled, being patient with her obvious inexperience.

“I'm so sorry. I'm . . . Oh, okay. Let me start over,” the cashier said. But she was a little flustered, so the manager came over.

“Vickie, you okay?” he asked.

Simone saw that this might take awhile, so she looked at the other lines. This was definitely the shortest. She rubbed her swollen belly and leaned on the cart. The manager helped the girl ring out the older man, who departed with a “God bless you” and left. His departing comment made Simone smile. That's what she liked about the South. Everyone was so friendly; at least, at first they tried to be. Had this been Jersey, the cashier and the customer would probably be fighting right now.

The thought made her giggle as she moved to be rung up and the manager looked up at her and smiled. “I'm glad to see somebody is having a good day.”

Up until then, Simone really hadn't looked at the manager, but when he spoke, she got a better view of him. He was around six feet one inch, with a caramel complexion and a short, close cut full of waves. He wasn't heart-stoppingly gorgeous, but his bright white smile was warm and inviting.

“Oh, no, I just was thinking about something,” she stuttered in reply.

“Well, that smile just made my day,” he flirted. He saw her swollen condition, but she was alone, and beautiful. Simone was well aware of his advance, so she busied herself unloading the cart. The checkout girl began to grab the groceries, but the manager stopped her and said, “I'll take care of this for you, Vickie,” and she stepped aside, feeling like a third wheel.

“I can tell by your accent that you aren't from around here,” he said, scanning groceries.

“Umm, no,” Simone said, brushing the hair out of her face. “I have coupons,” she continued, trying to keep the encounter professional.

He took the coupons and the hint. “That'll be $73.89,” he told her, and Simone took out her wallet. Two twenties and a five were all she had. She cussed herself mentally, and tried to figure out what to keep and what to put back.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, still trying to use his megawatt smile.

“No, no problem,” she answered. Reflexively, she grabbed her Visa and handed it to him. “I'm a little short on cash. Could you just charge it?”

“Sure,” he said, taking the card.

Now that he wasn't looking at her, she looked at him. Simone watched his hands, and noticed his clean fingernails. She noticed his wristwatch and his choice of color. She studied his profile. He was definitely cute. Very cute. And she liked his personality, the way he flirted: not pressing, but persistent.

He turned back to her with a quiet expression. “I'm sorry, but your Visa won't go through.”

Simone felt a little embarrassed, remembering that she hadn't paid her bill since she had left New Jersey. She had no choice now but to put some things back. “I'm sorry to be so much trouble, but I'm going to have to put a few things back.”

“Oh, it's no trouble. It's my job.”

She finally got her bill down to under fifty dollars and got ready to push the buggy out, when the manager came around the counter and said, “Please, let me.” He smiled.

“Oh. Thank you,” Simone replied. She felt funny letting him push the cart for her and being in a man's company, but she was tired, so . . .

“So you go to Essex County College? What are you taking?” he asked, pushing the cart through the parking lot slowly. Simone started to ask him how he knew and he read it in her expression. “I saw it on your keychain.”

She glanced down at her keys. She still had all of her old keys from Newark; she had merely added her new car and house keys to them. “Oh, right. Umm, accounting.”

“Oh, you like to count other people's money, huh?” he joked, making her laugh, something she hadn't done in a while. “I'm in school myself. I'm going to Wayne Community College for filmmaking. I'm hoping to transfer to the NC School of the Arts in another year or so.”

Dreams,
Simone thought, also thinking of her own, and what had happened to them. “Well, I wish you luck.”

“I appreciate that. And hey, maybe I'll look you up. As beautiful as you are, you deserve to be up in lights.”

Simone was sincerely flattered by his comments. She definitely didn't feel beautiful; she just felt heavy, physically and emotionally. She hadn't been much into fashion lately, either. She just kept her hair up in a ponytail. So often that Freddie had the nerve to say one day, “Why don't you do something wit' your hair, ma?” So she kept it like that, more out of spite than convenience.

She didn't know how to respond to the manager's comment, so she was glad that they were close enough to the Benz to chirp the alarm.

“Is this your car?” he asked, a little surprised. After the rejected Visa and the short money, he expected anything but a CLK.

“No,” she said and he looked confused. “I mean, yes, it's my car, but no . . .”

It felt like her whole life could be summed up in that unfinished statement. Nothing she had felt like hers anymore.

He could tell she was a hustler's girl. The car was probably some drug dealer's and she was just driving it. He was probably her baby's daddy, too. But he could sense in Simone that everything at home wasn't all roses. “Are you okay?”

Simone nodded, avoiding eye contact, trying to fight back tears of confusion.

“Look, I know this is none of my business, but I can see you have a lot on your mind, and maybe, sometime, you may need someone to talk to, so”—he reached into his pocket, took out a pen, and wrote his name and number on her receipt—“if you do,” he said and shrugged, “I'm a real good listener.”

Simone looked at the paper and could read it in his hand:
Brian
. She was no stranger to flirtatious brothers. Every day she caught smiles and comments, but she always brushed them off and kept it moving. She truly saw no one but Freddie. But she had never let it go this far before. No other man had gotten two sentences out of her. She had never hesitated before, but now she had.

She took her receipt from Brian's hand and slipped it into her pocket.

Gina bounced her crossed right leg on her left knee and checked her watch for the thousandth time in the last ten minutes. She was waiting for Freddie in the Hampton Inn in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. It was the drop-off weekend and Freddie was on his way, expecting the drop.

She had talked to him several times since she had spoken with her uncle, but she hadn't said anything about the cutoff. She didn't like talking over the phone, but that wasn't the only reason she hadn't said anything. Gina wanted to tell him in person, to use everything she had to convince him to come away with her and leave the States. She felt that the only thing that would stop him was his feelings for Simone. She tried to convince herself that he didn't love Simone as much as it seemed, and she imagined him accepting her offer of freedom openheartedly, without reservation. She believed in her heart that the love he had for her could be and should be so much more. He wanted him to love her the way he did Simone, but better.

“I love you, Gina. You've always been there for me. And I know now that I wanna be with you,”
she imagined him saying, then taking her in his arms, and holding her so tight she could hardly breathe.

Gina stood up and nervously smoothed the front of her multicolored sundress, checking her reflection in the mirror. The knock at the door made her jump. She took a deep breath and crossed the room to the door. She peeked out of the curtain and saw Freddie standing there, smiling back at her.

“Hey, sweetness.” He beamed. “You gonna let me in or what?”

Gina unlatched the chain lock and opened the door. Freddie stepped in and wrapped his arms around her, palming her ass, slapping it to feel it shake. “It's like candayyy!” he sang playfully. “What the deal, ma? You good?”

“Now I am,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and tonguing him down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, G,” Freddie echoed. “You hungry? You wanna go get something to eat or just be something to eat?” Freddie teased her with the tip of his tongue.

“No, no, I'm okay,” she told him, but her tone told him otherwise.

“You a'ight, G?” Freddie questioned.

“Uh-huh,” she said and pulled away from him. “I, umm, just need to talk to you about something.”

Freddie watched her pace to the far wall; then she turned around. “Freddie, how long do you plan on doing this?”

“Why, what happened? You ain't run into no trouble on 95, did you?”

“No, I . . . I just need to know. Freddie, you know you can't do this forever, and you can't run forever. As long as you are involved, anything can happen, and you need to think about that,” Gina stated.

Freddie approached her. “Dig, ma, I feel you, but let me worry about that,” he crooned, and tried to embrace her, but she evaded him again by stepping away.

“No, Freddie. I have to worry because I'm involved too. Have you ever thought about that? What if something happens to me?”

He reached out and caressed her face. “Is that what this is about? You're right, ma, and I'm sorry. And I have been thinkin' about it. I was thinkin' maybe we could get somebody to mule it. You wouldn't have to meet them or nothin'. You could just leave—”

Gina sighed and rubbed her forehead. “No, Freddie, that's not what I . . .” She sighed again. “It's my uncle.”

“What about him?”

“Some people . . . They caught a case, and he doesn't know what they'll do, so he's gonna chill for a while,” she finally got out.

“Chill?” Freddie asked, seeing the pieces but not the puzzle. “What do you mean, chill?”

“I mean, I can't bring you drops anymore,” she informed him.

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight.” Freddie paced back and forth. “You said some people caught a case. You mean his people?”

“No.”

“So what that got to do wit' him?”

“He's just being careful, Freddie. You know everybody's snitching these days.”

“Can't he hit you once more? I know you said no more than five, but double up just this once. We could mule it and—”

Gina could hear the hysteria building in Freddie's voice. He had become addicted to the paper chase. “I'm sorry, Freddie, I can't.” It broke her heart to say it. “It's not my fault.”

“Not your fault? I gotta live, yo! I eat off this shit! Fuck I'm 'posed to do now?” Freddie sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands together.

“What about all the money you've made so far? I know you ain't spent it all. Don't you have enough to live on until we figure something else out?”

“A hundred thousand ain't shit!” he barked. He had been spending money like water and had only managed to squirrel away a nutshell. Freddie was used to the best and wouldn't settle for less.

Gina sat next to him on the bed and put her arm around his neck. She ran her fingers through his curly hair. “Baby, listen. You didn't expect this to last, did you? I told you, anything can happen, but I've got some money put up. A lot of money. The type of money we could retire off of, go away, leave the States, and leave this all behind. My uncle has friends in Jamaica.”

The laugh started low and built up until Freddie was laughing aloud. “You slippin', G,” he said as he stood up. “Your game is gettin' weak, yo.”

She stood up too. “It's not a game, Freddie. Really. I'm serious. Leave with me. We can get away, before it's too late.”

Freddie studied Gina with amusement. She had been reeling him in, slowly but surely, making him depend on her, not only financially but emotionally; and she almost had him. He had been feeling drawn to her, and now he could see why. “You had this planned, didn't you?”

“No, Freddie, I—”

“You had this whole shit planned! Put me on, string me along, then freeze me out!” He chuckled menacingly. “I expected better from you, G.”

Tears streamed down Gina's face. “I didn't have anything planned, Freddie. But I don't apologize for the way it turned out. You know how I feel about you and I just want the best for you.”

“And that's supposed to be you, huh?”

“It's not Simone. She could never love you like I can.”

“What about my unborn child, huh? Who's gonna love my son? You think you can buy me from my seed? Can you give me one? Can you?”

Gina broke down into an all-out sob. “Please don't do this to me, Freddie. I just want to help you.”

“Help me? Bitch, fuck you and your help!” Freddie roared. “You cuttin' me off! Naw, I'm cuttin' you off! Fuck you, you barren bitch!” Freddie spat venomously and turned to the door.

The love in her heart wouldn't let him go. She couldn't stand the pain of seeing him turn away. After all she had done for him, for him to just turn his back. Her pride refused to accept his leaving, and each individual emotion combined in an explosive mix that launched her at Freddie's back.

“Nigga, you ain't never gonna leave me!”

Freddie had just opened the door when her body crashed into his, slamming him against the door. “Gina!”

But she was all over him like an enraged tigress. “I'll kill you if you walk out that door!” she vowed, swinging wildly.

Freddie's ire rose to boiling as he fought to get her hands off his neck. She was stronger than he had expected, so he had to fight fire with fire. He backhanded her hard enough to make her spit blood, then hit her with a merciless blow to the stomach, which instantly took the wind out of her and made her crumple to the floor at his feet.

“Freddie, why? Why, Freddie?” she groaned, and coughed, and balled up into a fetal position. “Why'd you do this to me?”

“Bitch, you did it to yourself,” he coldly replied. “You did it to yourself.”

Freddie opened the door and slammed it behind him, leaving Gina balled up on the floor.

She lay there crying tears of pain, which became tears of anguish, and finally tears of rage and revenge. It was apparent to her that Freddie was so far gone that he had forgotten who she was. But as Gina lay in a fetal position all she could think about was how, soon, his memory would be refreshed.