Sweeter Than Honey (23 page)

B
am! Bam!

“Aw, fuck! Lace, cut that shit out!” I yelled, lifting my ass, trying to keep the gun from shaking. I could’ve tightened my stomach muscles and pushed the barrel out a day ago, but I was scared I’d kill myself.

Lying naked, unable to move for almost twenty-four hours, I thought maybe if the gun did fire I would’ve been spared from starvation and dehydration.

Boom!

Tears streamed down my temples into my ears. “Please, Lace, please, stop it,” I cried.

A woman dressed in a gray sweatsuit with a gun in her hand pointed it at me and yelled, “Don’t move!” right before she fell on the floor laughing. “Y’all come in here. Ha, ha, ha. Oh my God, this is hilarious. And a first. Hurry up!”

I didn’t see what the fuck was so funny. If I stuck that gun up her ass, she wouldn’t be laughing at all.

“Ou wee! You got it funky up in here. Open all the windows guys, then get, hee, hee, hee, put on your rubber gloves and get that gun out of his ass, then untie him. Oh my gosh. Who did this to you?”

One of the guys said, “Hey, boss. The gun is empty.”

There she went, falling to floor, holding her stomach, laughing so hard she’d started crying.

I bet if I were white they would’ve untied me first and I could’ve slapped her for making fun of me. But at least they hadn’t shot me. Not yet. “Lace St. Thomas did this shit. I want her ass arrested and I’m pressing charges against that bitch!”

The smile on that woman’s face turned upside down. Two inches from my face she hissed like a cobra, “You ain’t gon’ do shit but what the fuck I tell you. You got that? Whatever it was you did to piss her off that she’d do this to you is nothing compared to what I would’ve done. I’m Sergeant Bleu. Sapphire Bleu. Whatever the fuck you say can and will be held against you in my court of law…”

I was speechless. No, she was not reading me my rights while she was in the wrong. “I’m the one who was violated. Why are you reading me my rights?”

Throwing her head backward, she laughed, then said to another officer, “I can’t believe how ignorant this man is. I bet he doesn’t even know his rights. Get him in the tub quick. I can’t even question him with him smelling like shit.”

When Sapphire and her team broke down the door, I was grateful someone had finally rescued me. I was grateful I hadn’t died in a pool of shit. Appreciative that Sergeant Bleu gave me permission and time to sit in a warm tub of water filled with Epsom salt to soak the soreness out of my rectum. “Ah,” I said, leaning my head against Lace’s inflatable pillow. “Hot water never felt so good.”

It felt even better to put on deodorant, cologne, fresh underwear, and my best clean suit. Thankful simply to be alive, and free to go after questioning, I was too embarrassed to call any of my teammates or the women I’d bought nice things for but hadn’t treated so well.

With no money in my pockets, Valentino behind bars, and Lace only God knows where, I had no money and no place to live after this Sapphire woman kicked me out of Lace’s house, but I was grateful to be alive.

Fully cooperating with Sergeant Bleu, I told her everything I knew about Lace, which I realized wasn’t as much information as I thought I had. I had no idea who Lace’s parents were, how Lace met Valentino, or where Lace worked before I met her until Sergeant Bleu said, “Lace was a prostitute for eleven years before she became a madam.”

Suddenly that Pussyland rodeo ride made sense.

I’d never trust closing both of my eyes around another female. After what Lace had done to me, I might be better off dating men. My manhood was violated. I seriously thought that gun was gonna go off in my ass. What had I done that was so bad that Lace would treat me like that?

Sure I’d made a mistake putting my hands on her. I was man enough to admit that. But I didn’t kill Sunny. Sergeant Bleu said she could’ve arrested me as an accomplice, but instead I had twenty-four hours to get out of Nevada and never come back. I hoped they fucked the guts out of Valentino while he was behind bars. That wasn’t my boy. No friend would’ve set me up like that. Try to let me take the rap.

With no place to go, I’d hitched a ride to the Strip, then entered a Mexican restaurant on Tropicana Avenue near Terrible’s gas station, picked up the pay phone, and dialed 0. It was hard to find a pay phone on the streets and ten times harder to find one with any privacy. Closing the booth, I motioned to hang up until I heard, “Operator, may I help you?”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Collect call to Washington, D.C., to a Mrs. Hill.”

“From who, sir?”

“Um, yeah.” I wanted to hang up, but what were my options?

“Sir, what’s your name?”

“Benito. I’m her son.”

“One moment please,” the operator said.

After a few rings, a deep voice answered, “Hill’s residence.”

“This is the operator with a collect call from Mr. Benito. Will you accept?”

“Well, well—”

“Sir, I need to know if you accept.”

“Yes, I accept. Put him through.”

Nervously, I said, “Hey, I didn’t expect you to answer,” opening the booth. Suddenly when I’d heard Grant’s voice it got hella hot in that tiny space and I could barely breathe.

“Man, you’ve got a lot of nerve calling my mother.”

“
Your
mother?” I questioned.

Grant hadn’t changed a bit. Still arrogant and elitist.

“That’s right. She
was
your mother.”

“Was? Mama isn’t dead, is she?”

Had it been that long since I’d called her? It felt like my heart stopped beating.

“She might as well be dead to you. After all she’s done for you. This is the thanks you give her, give us, by acting like you didn’t know us when we came to your championship game.”

I saw them. But they only came because they wanted a piece of my fame, not me.

“You were always her favorite, so what do you know about how I felt? Mr. Oxford.”

“Man, I work hard. I don’t apologize for my success. You should be grateful my mother took care of you. How do you think you got that scholarship? My mother adopted you when she was a single parent struggling by herself without a husband, and all you can see is what she didn’t do.”

“No, she adopted me when she thought she couldn’t have you was more like it. But what do you know about being adopted? Not a damn thing.”

I didn’t need this bullshit. I would’ve hung up in Grant’s face but I had no place to go.

“What do you know about respect? About love? Nothing. Now that your career is over and the IRS took all your possessions, what, you need my mother now? To help you? If it’s money you need, I’ll wire it to wherever you are as long as you promise not to set foot on my mother’s property. Where are you?” Grant said in a demanding tone.

I told Grant what city and state I was in. Then I heard a warm, soft voice in the background and my heart began to cry.

“Mmm, good morning, sweetheart. Who are you talking to this early?”

“Nobody, Ma. Dad up yet?”

“Ma! It’s me! It’s Benito! Your son, Benito!”

“Grant, give me the phone.”

The next voice I heard was my mother’s. “Benito?”

“Yeah, Ma. It’s me.”

My mother started crying. “Why, Benito?”

“I’m sorry, Ma. Can I come home? I need you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, son.” My mother cried harder.

“Who are you talking to?” I heard a deep voice ask.

“It’s Benito, honey.”

My stepfather commanded like a general in the military, “What you want, boy?”

“He wants to come home, honey,” I heard my mother say.

“Then come. We need to talk to you face-to-face.”

“You guys are too polite. Give me back the phone,” I heard my brother say. “Look, I’m on way to my Atlanta office for a few weeks but I’ll have my secretary wire you a thousand dollars today. Use it wisely.”

Grant hung up before I could say
Thanks, I’ll be there before you get back.

A thousand dollars was enough to get a room for the night, and fly to Washington, D.C., first thing in the morning to see my mother, or maybe I’d surprise Tyra and my daughter instead. Tyra never could say no to me to my face.

M
atching the address on Honey’s birth certificate to that on the white wooden-framed house I passed daily on my way to high school, I rang the bell, then took two steps backward.

The door opened and the man in the gray suit who’d practically jumped out of his seat at LAS after insulting me stood in the doorway.

“Oh, shit. I mean, hey, it’s you. You clean up very well. Here,” he said, reaching into his tailored pocket and handing me a ten-dollar bill.

I stared at his face in disbelief. How could I have overlooked his dazzling green eyes, slick dark hair, and fair complexion, just like mine?

“Are you Jean St. Thomas?” I asked, refusing to reach for the money.

“Are you from the IRS?” he questioned in a charming kind of way.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then yes, I am.”

I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start. I expected some woman to come from behind him and ask who I was. That would’ve sped up my introduction and slowed the churning in my stomach.

“Um, do you know a Rita St. Thomas?” I asked, shifting my weight from one stiletto to the other. Smoothing my golden honey pantsuit from my hips to my thighs, I took a tiny step backward, wanting to turn and run away before he answered.

“Whatever Rita said is a lie. That woman has more issues than a black man on death row awaiting his last meal.”

Moving closer to him, I spoke softly. “So I take it you know her very well.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well enough to have had two children with her? Two daughters?”

“Um, look, I can’t waste any more time with you. I’ve got things to do. You can take this ten dollars or leave it, but I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”

Jean St. Thomas stepped inside, staring as if he were waiting for me to leave. It felt like my heart fell into my stomach. The bile percolated, decomposing my heart.
That was stupid, Lace! You never should’ve come here. Every time you let down your guard and try to have feelings for someone you get fucked, Lace. You should’ve waited until he showed up at Honey’s funeral. That way he would’ve been more sentimental. Now you may never see him again.
I stood there chastising myself. I knew I should’ve said something before he motioned to close the door, but the words got stuck in my throat as the tears swelled, blinding my vision.

Click.
The door shut.

My chin dropped to my neck. I felt like that sixteen-year-old girl again stranded on the porch, except this time I had enough money to go wherever I wanted.

Maybe I’d sit next to him at Honey’s funeral, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait on his steps much longer praying for Jean to have a change of heart.

My cell phone rang. Easing on my Bluetooth, I answered somberly, “Yes.”

“Lace, this is Sapphire. Where are you?”

I exhaled, then said, “Flagstaff.”

“Flagstaff? I need for you to meet me in Las Vegas by midnight. Not twelve-oh-one a.m. Midnight. I’ll call you back in an hour with the location.”

Checking the time on my watch, I knew the only way I could make it to Vegas by midnight was to drive. I hated driving the long continuous S-curves up and down the mountains in the daytime and I couldn’t see shit at night.

I took a deep breath, and then my stilettos clanked down the wooden stairs onto the sidewalk in front of Jean’s house. Gazing down the street, I could see the homeless people lined up outside the mission. I walked over to them, reached into my purse, and gave each of them a hundred dollar bill, then said, “It’s not what you are, it’s who you are.”

B
ittersweet.

That was my life summed up in one word. I imagined most folks, whether Christians or atheist, felt the same way. Everyone had a story to tell that was so unbelievable that it would make for a great movie. That’s what happened to me overnight.

My front-page story of being somewhat forced into prostitution in order to help find my identical twin sister’s murderer, being drugged, kidnapped, raped—as the producer put it—then rescued, having brought my sister’s assailant to justice, made me an instant millionaire.

Sitting on Sunny’s bed with my son—oh yeah, I forgot about that part of the movie when I had Valentino’s babies—I smiled knowing Sunny was pleased that Valentino was behind bars. Tears filled my eyes.

“Mommy, you okay. Don’t cry. Nana said Auntie went on a trip.” AJ pointed out the window, then said, “To heaven.”

These tears weren’t for Sunny. If the home pregnancy test I’d taken earlier was right, the tears I cried were for the baby growing inside me. And I prayed for God not to give me twins.

Anthony always had his way with me. Looking up at the clouds, I thought maybe God had a bigger plan for Anthony Valentino James and I just couldn’t see it. But the things I couldn’t see, I could feel. Like the love in my heart for my son and his father.

Shifting my focus, I thought about Sapphire making sure Sunny’s bank account read Summer Day. After I sold Sunny’s condo, I was moving my family to Texas or someplace else outside Nevada to a churchgoing community. It felt good knowing I could afford to buy my parents a new home and retire them comfortably. It also felt good belonging. Belonging to a Christian family with morals, principles, and values for one another and others helped me to see that my daddy was right.

Quietly my son and I stared out the window. Nestling my cheek on his head, I rocked AJ in my arms. Just because Valentino was my son’s father didn’t automatically make Anthony entitled to see my son. What could Anthony have taught our child? How to be a pimp? How to disrespect women? How to sell drugs? How to get arrested? It was hard enough that one day I’d have to tell my babies that their daddy killed their aunt. Maybe I wouldn’t tell them. Like my daddy said, “Summer, what good would knowing do for AJ?” Daddy was going to have a fit whenever I told him about the baby inside me. Maybe I should stay here in Henderson until the baby was born.

Tap. Tap.

“Baby, it’s time to go.”

“We’re coming, Mama,” I said, wearing Sunny’s charm bracelet on one wrist and mine on the other.

Riding in the Town car to church—I never wanted to ride in a limo again—we sat in the back and I could feel Sunny’s spirit surrounding us, especially me.

The driver double-parked in front of our church and it seemed like the entire community had come to say good-bye to Sunny. On a perfect day with the sun shining bright, I passed so many ladies of the evening with high heels and short skirts dressed like they’d come straight from work. But I didn’t care. After all I’d been through, all my sister had dealt with, there was no way I’d judge or condemn these women. Whatever spirit moved them to come to church was all right with God and it was all right with me.

Sunny’s casket was closed. There was nothing the morticians could do to make her look pretty on the outside, but my sister would always be beautiful to me. Sitting in the front pew, I motioned for Lace and Sapphire to join our family because they were our family.