Whos Loving You (22 page)

F
uck Summer. We hadn’t been married two hours and already she had a bad attitude. I should be the one pissed the fuck off. What had I done to her? It was my money, not hers. And it wasn’t enough. She was going to have to come up with more than that. I got up from the couch, made my way into the bedroom, changed into a pair of slacks Summer had bought me, put on my casual-dress, brown button-down shirt, and went into the kitchen.

“Stop feeding him all the time. He’s gonna be overweight,” I said.

“He hasn’t had anything to eat this morning,” Summer said, beating a bowl of eggs.

“Ba, I gotta make this run. I promise I’ll be back in a few days, a week tops. Then I’m home for good.”

“Anthony, I did not bail you out for you to bail on us. If you leave, don’t come back. You got what you wanted.”

“Nah, nah,” I said, shaking my head. I hugged Summer. “Right here is where I want to be, ba. With you and our son. I’m not going to miss my court date. I wouldn’t make you pay a million-dollar bond. I wouldn’t. I need for you to believe in me.”

“Where’re you going?” she asked, turning over the bacon. “Anthony, go upstairs, close your door, and stay there until I come and get you.”

Yeah, straight. I was with her on that. Anthony did not need to hear our conversation. “I’m going to Atlanta.”

“Atlanta! Just beat me and get it over with! No matter what you say or do, I’m never gonna be yours, you dirty bastard!” Summer yelled. Then she softly said, “Anthony, you can’t leave the state of Nevada.”

What the fuck? Not this shit again. Who in the fuck was that? Could a nigga’s mind conjure up a bitch, or was this Sylvia Browne ghost shit for real? I played it cool. “Summer? I’m driving, okay? I won’t stay a day longer than I have to. I promise. All I need is another blank check to cover me until I get back.”

Summer started shaking her head before I finished my sentence. “Nope. Ow! My head hurts! Why did you slap me!” Summer yelled. Then she softly said, “Anthony, I don’t approve of you going to Atlanta, and I’m not giving you anything.”

Approve?
Who the fuck did she think I was? “Fine. Then I won’t come back.”

“Then you’d better take this with you,” Summer said, handing me her wedding ring. “You’ll need it more than me.”

Was that supposed to make me stay? I took the ring, put it in my pocket, then grabbed the car keys. I started backing up toward the door. “Summer, baby girl,” I found myself saying.

Summer yelled, “I’m not your baby girl!” She threw the eggbeater at me. “I’m sorry, Valentino. I never should’ve come here. I quit. Ahhhhhhhh! No, please don’t. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Noooooo! I’m not Summer, motherfucker. How many times do I have to tell you that…I’m Sunny.” Her eyes damn near popped out of the sockets. Running toward me, she yelled, “Give me my keys!”

Pushing her away, I slammed the front door, ran to the Bentley. Fuck! Looking in my hand, I saw I’d grabbed the keys to the SUV. I wasn’t falling on my ass again, that was for sure. The screeching tires left Summer standing behind a cloud of smoke. Fuck that. That wasn’t Summer. That bitch I’d married was Sunny. As I headed to the casino, my hands rattled around the steering wheel. Benito had better be waiting, or I was leaving him in Vegas.

Was that why she’d bailed me out? To fuckin’ torture a nigga? All I’d needed her to do was go along with my plan. Fuck. I was scared to go back there. Did my son have to live with that shit every day? Fuck that. Fuck them.

I made my way to the penny machine, and there Benito was. “Nigga, that machine ain’t gon’ hit two days in a motherfuckin’ row. Let’s roll.”

Getting in the car, Benito asked, “So did you do it?”

“I wish I hadn’t,” I lied. I loved Summer. It was that bitch living inside of Summer that I wanted to kill again. When I got back, I was performing an exorcism with my dick, and I was going to straighten her horny ass the fuck out.

Door-to-door, it was 1,968 miles from Vegas to Atlanta, which translated into a total of twenty-eight hours and fifty-six minutes in a car with Benito. That was going to drive me fuckin’ crazy. I wanted to drive damn near 120 miles per hour to cut the trip in half, but I’d have to start a high-speed chase to escape beating down any of these Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama or Georgia motherfuckers if they tried to pull me over.

Damn. It was gonna take two days for us to get to Atlanta. At least we were driving through northern, and not southern, Texas during the day, and we could sleep in my SUV overnight once we got into Oklahoma. I’d road kill every armadillo speed bump in Texas before I laid my head to sleep in that crazy-ass state. The only law I liked in Texas was the right to bear arms: handgun, rifle, and shotgun ownership was unrestricted.

In Texas a nigga didn’t need a license or a permit to protect himself, but Texas had more black men on death row than any other state in the country, and I was sure they’d love to add one more, especially when they realized I refused to show my driver’s license or give any information that would prove I was out on bail. I didn’t care if Benito did have a valid driver’s license. I didn’t trust him to drive me to the corner sto’ in daylight.

Benito started punching the air. “So, V, you done got all swole and stuff. Tell me how many dudes you had to rough up or cut up or beat the hell out of when you were in prison. I know they tried to get at you. What’d you do? Huh?” he asked, jabbing the air. “Tell me.”

I told him, “I’ll show you what happened before we go to sleep tonight.” Ig’nant ass. Every man who got locked up didn’t get raped. I knew that was where he was going. But my response shut his ass up quick. “Don’t think I don’t know some of those teammates of yours were on the DL. What about you? You shit packin’, nigga? Or gettin’ your shit packed?”

Benito shook his head. “I don’t go down like that. Not me.”

“Yeah, right. Shut the hell up.”

I turned on the radio. Driving on Interstate 40, we left Texas and crossed the Oklahoma state line. I was tired from driving all damn day. I speed dialed the home number to check on whomever I fuckin’ married.

“The subscriber has temporarily suspended this number. Please try your call again at a later time.”

“What the hell?” I yelled. My heart raced. Was this a sign?

“You okay, man? Seems like you got a lot on your mind,” Benito said, staring at me.

“Stop staring at me, nigga. Answer this. You ever loved a woman?”

Benito sat up straight. “Man, I don’ had the finest females. One of them for three years. What? You don’ forgot I lived with Lace? You forgot I played pro ball? I’m an icon in every community in America.”

“Nah, nigga, I ain’t forgot shit. I just brought it up an hour back. Sho’ you don’ had lots of bitches. I have too. But you ain’t answered the question, either. Have you?”

Benito was quiet for a long time. I drove to downtown Oklahoma City, to a fancy five-star hotel, and parked in the lot outside. It was eight o’clock at night. Still enough time for us to have a good meal, a few drinks, and let down the backseats for a few hours so I could rest before I drove this bitch-ass SUV to Georgia.

I turned off the engine, waiting for an answer. “Nigga, get out of the car. You can tell me over drinks.”

We went into the hotel and headed to the restaurant. I walked up to the hostess. She was bland but cute. “Two for dinner,” I said.

“The wait is an hour and fifteen minutes,” she said.

“For what? The fuckin’ chef to arrive up in this deserted bitch?” I asked. Damn. Why was the wait so fuckin’ long? The place was practically empty. Was she hoping to detour us to some other place? Fuck her. “James for two. We’ll be at the bar.” Hell. Wasn’t like we had shit else to do but cram our asses in the car and sleep after we finished fucking. I meant eating.

I didn’t realize that I’d asked such a tough question, but it did shut Benito the fuck up. Sitting at the bar, I ordered two scotch on the rocks. Looking at Benito, I asked him the question again. “Who in your lifetime have you loved unconditionally? Not your mother. Not your father. I mean a woman.”

“Just ’cause you got married you tryna change up?” Benito exhaled. “Does it matter? These bitches don’t love us. All they want is a permanent paycheck, or sex, or a man they can brag to their girls that they fucked or that they’re dating. Women nowadays don’t want no commitment, V. They too busy chasing paper, just like us.”

“Nigga, what about your baby mama? You love her? I’m asking your ass because when I get my money back, you gon’ need a place to lay low for a minute after I break you off. And this time, with the money you’re gonna have, you can’t lay your head between a woman’s legs if she ain’t got no love for you. And the only way to make sure she’s got you is if you’ve got her, too. That’s why I got married. Who you ever don’ right by? Maybe you can answer that.”

“When you get all soft and shit?” Benito asked. “I don’t love them hos.”

The only woman I’d ever done right by was Summer, when we first hooked up. I’d get her to trust me when I got back from Atlanta. But if she was still acting crazy, I was gonna commit that bitch to a mental. Damn. That wasn’t a bad idea.

“I haven’t gotten soft, nigga,” I lied. I was missing Summer’s warm smile already. But not that crazy bitch trapped inside her. Summer was selling that haunted house. No way was I spending another night there. “I’m not going back to jail. And that means I have to do what I have to do to stay out.”

“Mr. James, we can seat you now. I’ll have the bartender transfer your tab,” the hostess said.

We followed her to our table. Fine fucking dining was the way I wanted to eat every day. I was not about to live out of the Dumpsters, like those freegans scraping up free food and shit.

“You have Lace’s number?” I asked Benito.

Grinning, he said, “Yeah. She wants me.”

Whateva, nigga.
“Sapphire’s?”

Shaking his head, Benito said, “Nope. But my brother has her number.”

Hell, I probably had her number in Summer’s phone. I pulled out the cell phone and pressed the power button. Nothing happened.
What the fuck?
I thought, putting the phone on the table. “Good enough. We’ll call Lace tomorrow, when we’re standing outside her fucking door. We can’t give her a heads-up that we’re coming, so don’t your dumb ass dial her number.”

The food was good, but I was tired. I wanted to get to Atlanta before sunset tomorrow. “You done?” I asked Benito.

“Uh-huh. I’m sleepy, man. That niggaritis don’ kicked in.”

I dropped a hundred on the table, and we headed to the door.

“Excuse me, sir,” the waitress said, chasing behind us. “Your bill is three hundred dollars.”

“What the hell!” I snarled. “All we had was—”

“Here’s your bill. I need two hundred more, plus a tip,” said the waitress.

I tossed two one-hundred-dollar bills at the bitch, then walked away. There was no way I was tipping her ass. She’d better see her boss about a fuckin’ raise. I could put her on a quick stroll after she got off if she wanted to make us some money, but tipping wasn’t happening.

Benito and I got in the car. I drove to the far end of the parking lot, parked under a tree in the corner, then turned off the engine and the lights. I climbed in the backseat.

“We ain’t checking in?” Benito asked.

“Nigga, get your ass back here,” I said.

Benito squeezed in beside me.

“Nigga, as long as we this fuckin’ close, and you don’ drunk and ate up three hundred dollars, roll the fuck over.”

“A hundred and fifty. And I promise to pay you back with interest, but not that kind of interest.” Benito shook his head. “I ain’t like that, V.”

“I know, nigga. Me neither. Shut the fuck up, and pull down your pants.”

D
uring the time I spent in L.A. and Vegas, what I learned was we treat people the way we are…not the way they are. I didn’t admit that what Velvet had said on the plane made sense and that she’d made me feel better about my feelings for Grant. But feelings couldn’t change facts.

Velvet’s mother didn’t want what was best for Velvet; she wanted what was best for herself. The same held true for Grant, Sapphire, Velvet, and me. The only person that genuinely wanted what was best for others was Ronnie. He was special. When he grew up, I could tell he was going to protect his mother and grandmother. Children went along with adults, trusting that adults had their best interest in mind. Adults, myself included, claimed we loved others, until others didn’t live their lives to make or keep us happy.

I guessed Grant had retreated to his corner again. He didn’t call or respond to my calls. A woman shouldn’t pursue a man. I was the one who’d said we should give it a few days, and here
I
was the one who didn’t want to wait. Grant had gone to his home in D.C. and to check on his parents and his business. Was he a mama’s boy? Was that a bad thing if he was?

I’d settled in, slept well, got up this morning. Now I was in the kitchen, singing and dancing and cooking breakfast. Onyx was setting the table for us. The time had come for each of my girls to talk to me.

“Onyx, go upstairs and tell everyone to come down for breakfast,” I said.

Once the table for fourteen was set, we gathered around it. The only person missing was Sunny, and no one was allowed to sit in her seat, which was opposite the head of the table and across from me.

“Girl Six, I want you to sit to my left,” I said, because I was right-handed, and if I had to knock her ass on her ass, I’d have a straight aim. “Onyx, you sit to my right.”

This was the first time we’d all sat at the table at the same time. It was more like the first time I’d joined them at the table.

“I’ll bless the table,” Onyx said. “Lord, thank you for waking each of us up this morning. We pray the food that nourishes our bodies will give us strength to do good for ourselves, one another, and the women who come to us for help today. Amen.”

“Girl Six, I want to formally welcome you home,” I said.

Girl Six smiled. “Thanks. It’s good to be here.”

“You talked with Sapphire since you been here?” I asked her.

Girl Six looked away; then she looked at Onyx and at me. “Yes. She sent me here to spy on you. I told her I couldn’t do that. And I haven’t spoken with her since. If you don’t want me here, be direct. You don’t have to beat me. ’Cause I’m done dealing with abuse from you. It’s not necessary. I want to stay. I want to work in the office with the other girls. I want to help other women. That’s why I’m here.”

Surprised at Girl Six’s candor, I said, “I can respect that.”

I didn’t have an appetite. My stomach started churning. Before excusing myself from the table, I told everyone, “Carpool in groups of four to the office. I’ll be there by eleven.” That gave me three hours to recover from the queasy feeling invading my stomach.

“You want me to stay and wait for you?” Onyx asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“No, I’m fine. You go ahead with the others,” I insisted.

The girls lingered, talking while eating. I went into my bedroom and closed the door and took a nice hot shower. “Ooh, it feels so good to be home,” I said. I stepped out of the shower and opened my bedroom door. The mansion was quiet. I walked around my empty house, proud of my accomplishments. Returning to my bedroom, I didn’t bother closing the door. I slipped into my power red pantsuit, then slipped my gun in the holder under my left arm. You never knew what abusive fool would follow his woman into my business.

I didn’t know what came over me. For the first time in my life, I knelt on the floor, leaned into my chaise, and pressed my hands together. I closed my eyes. “Lord, despite all that has happened to me, I have so much to be thankful for,” I whispered. “I ask that You bless Red Velvet abundantly. And I pray she gets that acting role in
Something on the Side
. If not this movie, another one. Within a day or two if you could. That’d be nice.” I’d heard you had to be as specific as possible when praying.

I was proud of that woman. She was more than a pretty face. Velvet was smart, and she didn’t take no shit off anybody, including me. I chuckled at how she’d slapped me back. I could’ve killed her if that seat belt had broken. “Thank You for keeping her safe,” I whispered. I had more respect for Velvet than I had for Girl Six, that is, until today, when Girl Six proved herself worthy of respect.

“Lord, please bless my mother.” I knew it was selfish of me not to pray for my stepfather, but I didn’t want to be hypocritical. I had no love for that sorry-ass leech my mother married. I had to call Sapphire to find out if she had had a change of heart about killing Alphonso. I prayed not.

“Bless my biological father,” I whispered. Maybe one day my father would stop being so stubborn and would acknowledge me. If not, oh well. His loss. What was wrong with black men not accepting responsibility for their children?

As far as my parents were concerned, some things were better left in prayer.
Listen at me, acting like I’ve been praying all along.
Maybe I had and didn’t realize it. I decided to go to church on Sunday with Velvet’s mother and Ronnie. Couldn’t hurt. I was happy for Sapphire since she would be reuniting with her mother, and I was happy I’d been instrumental in that happening. I hadn’t heard from her, so maybe, finally, she wasn’t concerned about the money she’d given me. Probably best, because seriously I wasn’t giving it back, anyway.

I thought about Grant. I didn’t care if he got run over by a truck, swept under a bus, and dragged to hell. “What the fuck?”

Scrambling, I reached behind my head, clawing my nails into the hands of a person I couldn’t see. “Motherfucker, let me go! Let me go!” I screamed, struggling to loosen the plastic bag tightening around my neck. This motherfucker was trying to suffocate me. I couldn’t see. Now I could barely hear. I was thrown facedown on the floor. I fought to keep this maniac from taping my hands tightly together.

Did Girl Six set me up? She’d better pray she wasn’t involved.

Rip!

More tape secured my ankles. Fuckin’ amateurs! This wasn’t even duct tape. Two people lifted me from the floor, carried me, then shoved me in the trunk of an SUV. At least I had more space to maneuver out of this cheap-ass tape, if I didn’t suffocate first.

Whoever these sorry motherfuckers were, they didn’t realize who they’d kidnapped. By the time they stopped this SUV, the tape would be off, and the minute they opened this trunk, I was shooting both of them in the head for fucking up my day.

I’m Honey, motherfuckers! Honey!