God Bless These Biscuits (First Draft)

God, Bless These Biscuits Thierry J.
Snipes
Introduction
Circa 1970
Once upon a time…
Chapter One
Present Day
1
God, Bless These Biscuits Thierry J. Snipes
“You don’t have to give me the silent treatment, bruh. If you wanna talk, we can
talk,” Nikkie said to him, but looked out her window.
Nikolas gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands. They had been on the road
for one hour and she would not shut the hell up. He loved her, yes. Adored her scent, the
clothes she wore, and most importantly the way she handled business. All of those “good
qualities” seemed to fly out of the window as she sat beside him, combing her shoulder-
length hair with her French-tip manicured nails.
Nikolas estimated that his SUV was speeding way over the speed limit, which
was sixty miles per hour. He was doing eighty.
“I should slow down,” he mumbled softly to himself, thinking she didn’t hear
him.
“We should slow down from what?” she snapped. “Are you happy in this
relationship?” she asked. Her brown eyes were cold and void of emotion as she turned
and looked at him.
I could just punch you in the face, he thought. The thought kept popping up in his
head actually, back to back, and he began to wish he’d never agreed to accompany her to
Natasha’s wedding.
“You’re having doubts about coming now, huh?” she said. She seemed to read his
mind a lot. It freaked him out every time she did it, and they had been dating, off and on,
for little over five years.
“No,” was his quick response.
“I said something wrong.”
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“Everything’s cool, Nikkie. Relax, damnit.” He spoke the words coolly, making
sure not to add any attitude in his voice. She could detect attitude like a trained German
shepherd in search of blood.
She sighed, made a high-pitched nasal sound, and looked out of the window as the
SUV ever so gently rocked and swayed from the car’s movement over sticks that had
probably fallen from some truck and now lay on the highway, scattered across all lanes.
Nikkie rocked and moved, so did her breasts. They seemed to jump, to come alive
and call Nikolas to them. He quickly threw his glance from her chest to her eyes, and to
his surprise, she was looking at him already, some cold, untold mystery in those windows
to her soul.
“Are they that interesting?” she said with a giggle and shimmy of her boobs. But
her eyes still seemed vacant to him.
He snapped his attention back on the road in front of him, and cleared his throat.
“You upset because I won’t let you fuck me, huh?” she asked him nonchalantly.
She was always so cool and he hated her for it, her self-control. One word from her could
make him loose it, though he never screamed or stormed from her apartment in a huff
because of her spoken word, but damn he came close plenty of times.
“We don’t even live together anymore, Nik’los,” she said. “You moved out, and
then you don’t call me everyday like you used to and you think I’m gonna let you use my
holiest of holies like a cheap bullride in some filthy bar?”
“You be a maverick with words, babe,” he said to her.
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“Please, don’t call me that. My name is Nikkie. It’s not, babe, bae, boo, baby,
honey, shorty, lovely, sweetie or any other pet name you’ve probably called hundreds of
dozens of other chicks you’ve dated… or just slept with.”
“Hey, Nikkie, could you shove the tampon in a little further and shut up. You’re
making me uncomfortable.”
She gasped, “I’m not on my period!”
“Well you’re actin’ like it. And just last week, I could’ve sworn you told me we
couldn’t get busy ‘cause you was bleeding,” he questioned her, but now it was his turn to
keep his gaze away from hers. He didn’t want to see her facial reaction to his accusations,
because with her face, she’d tell on herself, proving that she was lying and make him
question her fidelity.
“For your info, Nik’los, a woman’s menstrual cycle doesn’t last an entire month.
That’s why it’s call our time of the month. Not our month.”
“Thank you, Miss Smart Ass,” he snorted to the windshield in front of him, “But I
don’t bleed, so I wouldn’t exactly know.”
“My name is-”
“I know your fuckin’ name, Nikkie. I was just joking with you!” he almost
screamed. She jumped slightly, but her eyes remained empty to him, as if her body
reacted, but her mind stayed in some distant perception.
After a moment’s silence, she said, “I’m trying, Nik’los. I am. I’m just havin’ a
hard time adjusting to you after so long, that’s all.”
“Time?” Nikolas almost hissed through pursed lips. “We’ve been together for five
years. We only broke up for what? Two months?”
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She rocked in her seat, did more rocking, it seemed, than was necessary and kept
her attention straight ahead and on the road, instead of finishing the conversation.
She sighed, maybe expecting a reaction from him. Out of spite, he ignored the
sounds coming from beside him, and decided to pick up the conversation when they’d
arrived at Mabel Miles’ house and were finished unpacking.
Chapter Two
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Nikkie was relieved when they’d reached Mabel Miles’ house in Durand Village.
Her mini-mansion was nestled in the back of the Durand Condos off Lilac Rd. She had
hoped their stay over the weekend would clear Nikolas’ mind and he’d calm down. Of
course, any man would be a little upset if his girlfriend wouldn’t have sex with him, but
she knew that most men used her for a quick feel, and with her twenty-sixth birthday
coming up in three months she was tired of going through pointless relationships. Either a
guy popped the question, she’d said to herself, or he popped the trunk to his ride, loaded
all of his things, and left her the hell alone.
It was a no-brainer, thought Nikkie.
“Oh, my Lawd! I can’t believe it’s you,” Aunt Mabel screamed with delight as
Nikkie and Nikolas stood outside of her front door, bundled in coats, scarves, and winter
hats, hugging their own arms for warmth.
The way she rested against her walking cane and took deep breaths from her
oxygen machine- her breath visibly flowing from her mouth with each exhalation like
mists of fog- Nikkie guessed that her aunt was now somewhere in her late seventies.
“Hi, auntie,” Nikkie said with cool delight, hugged Mabel and turned towards
Nikolas before adding, “This is Nikolas Adam.”
He extended his hand to her, and she smiled, obviously delighted by the gesture,
and let him take her hand in his large grip. She giggled like a schoolgirl when he kissed
the back of her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said.
“Nikolas,” Nikkie whined at him, embarrassed by his behavior.
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Why does he always have to overdo things? She thought. Even after five years of
dating, living with one another, making love, and planning to raise a family, there were
certain things about him that still got under her skin.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a gentleman treatin’ me like a lady,” Mabel defended
him, even gave him a wink. Nikkie noticed her gesticulation and stored it away in her
memory for safekeeping. She would be sure to tell both Nikolas and Aunt Mabel how
uncomfortable she felt with the mild flirtation between the two of them.
“I’s just as pleased to meet you, Mr. Adams,” she spoke to him in a southern
accent.
“No, my name is Nikolas Adam. Only one S in my name,” he said.
“Well I’ll be a damned whore or judgment day,” Mabel said.
“Nikolas, this is my aunt Mabel,” Nikkie finished her introductions. “I don’t
know about ya’ll but I’m ready to get out of the cold and into some heat.”
“Come on in,” Mabel opened the door wider and Nikkie got a clearer glimpse of
her aunt.
She had to have been at least 125 pounds overweight. The pink muumuu that she
sported had purple flower prints all around it, and the faint smell of Vick’s Vapor Rub
wafted past both Nikkie and Nikolas’ noses.
They set their bags down by the door, and rubbed their hands together for warmth.
Nikolas cupped his hands over his mouth and blew hot air into them, and boy where they
ashen. It took a moment, but the heat settled around the two of them nicely.
“I would’ve looked mo’ presentable for the two of ya, but at my age, I’m happy to
just wake up, get mah clothes on, and start my day without killing ova’ from a stroke or
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heart-attack,” Mabel said, even let out a harsh laugh as she slowly walked from the foyer
and into her large living room on her cane.
“Heart-attack?” Nikolas asked with concern.
“Oh, don’t listen to a word of what I just said, honey.”
Clonk, clonk, clonk were the monotonous sounds that Mabel made as she took one
tiny step, planted her cane down heavily on the tiled floor and repeated the same slow
movements until the three of them reached the kitchen.
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright with us staying here?” Nikkie asked
Mabel.
“Of course, now just hush up ‘bout what I was sayin’ earlier. I’s ramblin’.” She
assured them.
“I see you haven’t changed,” said Nikkie, slightly relieved that her aunt’s health
didn’t seem any worse than what it was when she’d last seen her. That was almost six
years ago, and Aunt Mabel had to have put on at least sixty extra pounds since then.
“I got fat as all hell, that’s what happened,” Mabel chuckled. After a gasp from
Nikkie’s mouth, Mabel began to laugh under her breath, causing her large breast to
bounce uncontrollably underneath the muumuu she wore.
“Chil’, I ‘bout done killed mahself when Morris divorced me. Took all the money
I worked fa’. For years!” She yelled those two words, slammed her cane onto the tiled
kitchen floor, and sent shivers up and down Nikkie’s spine.
“What’s that I smell, auntie? Ummm, it sure smells good,” Nikkie said trying to
change the subject, maybe ease Mabel from the “spells” she’d get herself into. Nikkie
never witnessed one of them, but she was informed by her mother, grandmother, uncles,
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aunts, and friends of the family- who’d met her, that she’d gone mad when Morris
divorced her.
“Oh, just makin’ somethin’ fo’ dinner, baby,” Mabel said, seeming to calm down.
“Felt the need to make an,” she licked her lips, “educated dinner for you two,” she said
those last words with perfect diction and enunciation.
Nikkie stole a glance at Nikolas who, surprisingly, was sending her a similar
browse while she was unaware. He smiled slightly, and she could see the innocence in his
eyes. Behind those windows, something lay there, waiting for her. She lowered her head
in shame. Felt guilty for trying to hold back her love from him. Of course, she knew that
a relationship these days required a hefty amount of sex to keep both parties happy. But
she couldn’t shake the fact that she’d given herself to Nikolas and he ran out on her in
their most difficult moment.
“… I knew ya’ll might not like pig’s feet- ’cause ya’ll educated city folk. So I put
a few o’ dem steaks on the fire and let ‘em juice all up-“
“Aunt Mabel,” Nikkie cut off her aunt’s sentence. “I’m a vegetarian.”
“Now, I don’t allow that shit in mah house, ya hear?” Mabel scolded Nikkie.
“What?” Nikkie asked.
“Miss Mabel, she means she doesn’t eat meat,” Nikolas spoke for her. He came to
her rescue. But, to Nikkie, he should have come sooner, as in three months ago sooner.
“Doesn’t eat meat?”
“Yes,” he answered Mabel’s question, but Nikkie firmly replied, “No,” at the
same time he spoke.
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“Young lady, I oughta whoop yo ass!” She said loudly, with what seemed like
jubilation, realized the level of her voice, and crouched closer to the two, her shoulders
pressed tightly against her neck.
“’Round the parts I grew up in, you’d be lucky to get meat mo’ than once a week.
Oh, Chil’, we had to eat pinto beans, navy beans, Crisco beans, lima beans, pig’s feet,
and chitterlings, so…”
“Sounds delightful,” Nikolas said with sarcasm in his voice. Nikkie just hoped
that Mabel didn’t hear him.
“So now that we can eat mo’ meat, I suggest you take advantage, Nik-aye,”
Mabel said. She’d always pronounced her name Nik-aye and it always frustrated Nikkie,
but after so many years- and considering Mabel’s old age- she just stopped letting it
bother her as much.
“Ya’ll gone eat dem steaks while ya visitin’ here. Ya hear?” Mabel ordered her.
Nikkie could only watch in horror as her aunt made a total fool of herself in front
of Nikolas. Then again, Nikkie thought, they’ve been hitting it off great so far- Nikolas
and Aunt Mabel, and maybe he didn’t mind her behavior or even notice it.
“Do you hear me, Chil’?” she asked again.
Just to make sure that no altercations occurred before the wedding, which she
knew would be a frantic circus within a church, she said, “Yes, ma’am,” to quiet the
tension. She’d talk to Aunt Mabel about it more in depth later.
Mabel clonked over to the stove, where she opened the oven door and a waft of
both baked chicken and some sort of sweet pie filled the atmosphere. Nikolas inhaled, a
look of ease in his face, and exhaled with a smile.
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“Smells wonderful,” he said to Mabel.
Mabel- hunched over the stove, her back toward both Nikkie and Nikolas-
snapped her head over her shoulder, in a model pose, licked her lips, and said, “Why
thank-you, Sugah.”
“Oh, lord,” Nikkie said, sighing to herself. Then she noticed a blue autumn jacket
thrown across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
“Who else is here, Aunt Mabel?” she asked.
After poking the contents in the stove with a fork, she closed the door, wiped her
hands on her muumuu several times, and looked at Nikolas.
“Baby, could you go fetch mah oxygen tank from the front doe, please?” Mabel
asked him.
He looked at Nikkie, as if for approval, and she laughed. He was timid around
her, and that wasn’t what she found funny. The humor was that she’d only realized it at
that particular moment.
“It’s okay, Nik’las,” she playfully tapped him on the shoulder.
He smiled with a look of complete joy that he hadn’t disappointed his girlfriend,
and wisped out of the kitchen.
When Nikkie turned to face her aunt, she was surprised to see her nestled in one
of the chairs, her walking cane rested against the table.
“Yo’ cousin Viola’s here,” Mabel started. “She been alive fo’ twenty-seven years
now, and this her first time meetin’ me. Oh, we got a lot in common. But she has a
problem and- well, we might all have a problem. But I only wanna speak to you about
the-”
11
Nikolas walked in right before Mabel could spill the gossip. Then Nikkie thought
to herself, Mabel actually made Nikolas fetch her tank to keep him at bay.
“Those are two sweet potato pies in the oven…” she said to Nikkie as Nikolas
approached them.
“Here you go, Miss Mabel,” he said as he rolled the tank on its wheels and handed
her the oxygen mask.
“Beautiful, Honey. Can I suggest somethin’ to you?” she said, looking up at him,
dead in his eye. Her light skin intensified the impact of her wide hazel eyes. Though her
face had plenty wrinkles, she looked as if she was in her mid-sixties instead of late-
seventies, though who might tell the difference?
“I’s very flattered to have made your acquaintance, but mah niece and I have
somethin’ to discuss in private. Let’s move the luggage upstairs. Ya’ll’s is the last room
at the end of the hallway and to the lef’.” She turned to face Nikkie. “I saved the room
with the bathroom for ya’ll, seeing as how ya’ll datin’ and sexin’ and such-“
“Auntie!” Nikkie all but shouted.
“Yes, yes, I said it,” Mabel spoke with a large, beautiful smile. “There might be
other women here who’d love to get their hands on a tall, muscled-up hunk of Mandingo
like him,” her voice was raspy with a sexual lust. Nikkie smiled with nervous
embarrassment.
“Chil', ya’ll know ya can’t get old folks started, we’ll lay the truth on yo’ ass.
Straight, witout a chaser.” She turned her attention back to him. “By the time we finish
loading the luggage upstairs, Nikkie and I’ll be finished.”
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Nikolas gave her a queer expression, mouthed the word, “We?” to Nikkie,
shrugged his shoulders- out of Mabel’s sight, of course, and went to tend to the luggage.
Chapter Three
Nikolas hauled the last of five suitcases up the stairs, and it was his own. He’d
only brought one suitcase with him for the trip. He was exhausted, and irritated because
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the women instantly kicked him out of the room and that bitch Mabel was making him
fetch shit as if he was a doberman pinscher.
As he walked down the hallway, he grimaced at the poor quality of the carpet.
Years of use caused the orange carpeting to look walked down to a flat surface and not as
plush as the off-white downstairs carpet. He figured since her bedroom was downstairs
and that’s where she was most of the time, she got the bottom level carpet replaced and
neglected the upstairs.
He sniffed and it also had a smell of mildew.
“Need a hand?”
“What?” Nikolas turned around, startled by the female voice behind him. After
spinning around, and almost slapping the poor girl in the face, he backed away from her
and towards the last room at the end of the hallway and to the left.
A young woman, about Nikkie’s height, stood in a sheer off-white nightgown.
Underneath the fabric, Nikolas could see her white and silver lace panties and bra. Her
cleavage protruded from her support cups, and she smiled, her plump lips made Nikolas
far too excited. How old is this girl? He wondered. Chick doesn’t look past eighteen.
“That how ya normally introduce ya’self, kind sir?” she asked, a southern accent
thicker than Mabel had.
Her breasts were perky. Those damn breasts. With every breath she took, they
rose higher.
Inhale.
Rise.
Exhale.
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Fall.
Except Nikolas’ manhood wasn’t falling, and he feared she would see it so he
turned sideways- not realizing he was now giving her a profile of his face and- to her
surprise- his erection.
She gasped, put her hand over her chest delicately, and giggled. “I’m extremlaye
flattered, sir. But I don’t even know the like’s o’ yo name.”
He turned to face her, picked up his suitcase and held it firmly in front of his
crotch. His light skin began to turn a crimson color, and he felt ever more embarrassed
for blushing at her statement, in her presence.
“Nikolas,” he told her, and choked. He tried to lift a balled fist to his mouth and
dropped the suitcase to his knees. His Johnson shot upward, a quick snap and fall, but
still hard as a rock through his jeans. He lifted the suitcase, coughed with his mouth
closed, and lifted the luggage to a more comfortable position: hiding his hard-on.
She looked him up and down with sparkling brown eyes, the smile remaining on
her plump lips. Again, she giggled to herself, turned slightly to her left, and brought her
limp fist in front of her mouth, coughed, quick and without any force, clearly mocking
him.
“Ha, ha,” he said. “Funny, funny bullshit,” Nikolas felt angry, maybe more
embarrassed than anything else.
“Oh, I’m just foolin’ you, you ol’ goat!” she smiled, showed all of her pearly
whites. They were large teeth, like that gorgeous actor Haley Barry has, but it fit her, he
thought. She sashayed down the hall in a pair of patent leather pumps. With small, quick
15
footsteps, she clomped over to him- Nikolas thought she looked like a trotting pony- and
abruptly stopped a few inches away from his… suitcase.
“Viowla Sugus, Honey,” she said, her lip twitching ever so venereal and,
conversely, genteel. She intensely peered up at him with a look in her eyes. Nikolas
couldn’t think of any other word to describe it besides passion.
“Your name is Viola Sugars?” He asked to make sure he heard her correctly.
“Why, yes, Honey. That’s my name,” she yawped. Did Nikolas believe it her real
name? Hell, no, but he was willing to go along with her tales.
She lifted her arm, raised her hand to his face. It was snapped at the wrist and
hung limp, yet elegant. Wedging the suitcase as best he could under his arm, he extended
his now free arm, softly gripped her small fingers in an uneasy clutch, and kissed the
back of her hand.
“It’s been a pleasure to have met you, Mr…”
“Adam,” he said.
“Well…” she softly bit her bottom lip. “I was waitin’ fo’ yo’ last name, Honey.
Not ya middle name,” she took her hand away from his face, and her scent sent more
blood rushing to his southern stick.
“That’s it.”
“Where’s the S in ya last name, Dawlin’?”
“I don’t have one. I’m Nikolas Patrick Adam. Only one S,” he said matter-of-
factly.
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“Oh,” she looked confused for only a split second before saying, “Well, my Aunt
Mabel has far too much ducats… Maybe if I says the word she can buy you an S fo’ your
last name.”
Then she smiled.
***
When Nikolas had left the kitchen, Mabel casually turned back toward Nikkie, a
look of madness in her eyes; they were so wide, thought Nikkie, as if she’d seen a
ghost… or was trying to scare one out of the room.
“I’s hope you don’t mind that I told Nikolush to leave, honey,” Mabel said with a
sympathetic smile.
“Oh, that’s okay. If we need a private talk and we have to store the luggage, it all
works out,” Nikkie admitted that she caught on to Mabel’s game: Say we and mean you.
She added, “And his name isn’t Nikolush, it’s Nikolas, Aunt Mabel.”
“I’s stands corrected.”
The distant sound of a school bus dropping some young grade-schooler off was
the only sound that the two exchanged between one another. Nikkie stared at the tiled
floor; Mabel stared at the pots on the stove with steam rising from them, both of them
ignoring each other. After it seemed the bus was further down the road, and the
neighborhood was quiet, Nikkie cleared her throat and said, “There was something you
were going to tell me before Nikolas came in.”
Mabel’s chin was impaling her large cleavage as she stared at Nikkie with fish
eyes. She blinked once or twice, took a deep breath and said, “I’m not tryna be rube, but
if you don’t mind me sayin’-”
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Nikkie raised her hand. “Please don’t start a sentence like that with me around.”
“Why, Chil’?”
Nikkie glanced at her aunt with a warm smile and said, “Because you often speak
your mind, Auntie.”
Mabel reached over the table, clutched Nikkie’s hand tightly, seemed to peer into
her eyes with a longing. There seemed to be a needing in her heart. For what, Nikkie
didn’t know. But she was sure it might have something to do with the conversation that
was interrupted earlier.
“So, where was I? Oh, okay. Your poppa’s comin’ here t’morrow mornin’
sometime…”
“That’s lovely,” Nikkie smiled. “What was so rude about that?”
“Patience, Chil’. I was gonna tell you to just try and make sho’ you can walk in
the morning, okay, Honey? You don’t want yo’ pappi thankin’ bad thoughts about you
and Nikolas havin’ sex up in here.”
“Oh, how dare you! I wouldn’t even dream of doing… that in here. Not in your
house, Auntie.”
“Ya’ll sleepin’ in the same bed, ain’t you or ain’t you not?”
“But it doesn’t mean we have to do… that.”
“What the shit is ‘that’? Baby, I’m almost in mah eighties. I have five chillren,
seven gran’chillren, and three great-gran’chillren. How you think we populated, huh? The
stork? I had to have sex! Just ‘cause I’m old don’t mean I don’t know anythang anymo’.
You can say it, Chil’. Go on, gettin’ dirty, foolin’ around, puttin’ a little sugah in ya
bowl-”
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“Auntie Mabel!” Nikkie giggled, and suddenly felt relieved about visiting. It
seemed as if she’d actually be able to introduce Nikolas to a side of her he’d never met
before. Sure, she talked about them to Nikolas, and he to her family, but how she felt at
that moment was like Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell sang, ain’t nothin’ like the real
thing!
“I’m tellin’ the truth, Chil’,” Aunt Mabel said, giggled with her mouth closed
tightly, and began to cough ferociously.
“You okay, Auntie?”
“Oh, shit, I’m fine. Just a little cough is all,” she said, and wiped a trickle of drool
that ran from the corner of her mouth while she was coughing. “Now there’s somethin’ I
need to tell you, Nikkie. Yo’ poppa and I’ve been keepin’ it a secrete from you fo’ the
past three months now, and I ‘ssumed if you haven’t been told by now, you ain’t gonna
know.”
“Know what, Auntie? You’ve been beating around the bush ever since you
brought the subject up.”
“I know, Chil’. I know it.”
“Well then let me know what’s up,” Nikkie said flatly. She’d had a long trip with
Nikolas (and all of their fighting) and she just wanted to take a hot shower, eat
something, and go to bed.
“’Member I said yo cousin, Viola’s stayin’ here?” Mabel asked. Nikkie didn’t
respond, she remained quiet, stared at Mabel. Mabel continued to stare at the steaming
pots on the stovetop.
She continued, “The man your sister’s marryin’-”
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“Elliott?” Nikkie asked.
“No, Teddy Pendergrass,” Mabel huffed. “Of course I’m talkin’ about Elliott.
Anyway, a scandal was goin’ down here in Seffin when Viola found out- the day after
Elliott proposed to yo’ sister Natasha that she was four weeks pregnant.”
Aunt Mabel paused, maybe to let the information sink in deeper. Although Nikkie
was astounded by the news, she couldn’t help but wonder how it related to her or why
Natasha or their father hadn’t told her about it.
Mabel struggled to get up from her chair, and Nikkie rushed to assist her. “Here,
let me help you, Auntie,” she said.
“Naw, that’s fine, baby. I can do it. See, I don’t wanna get used to all the good
treatment and such, ’cause I’m liable to turn around and expect it once ya’ll leave.”
“Come on, Aunt Mabel, you can accept a little help.”
“I never depended solely on nobody and I ain’t about to start now. I love you,
baby, and thanks fo’ tryna help. But ya Aunt Mabel has it all under control,” she told
Nikkie as she took slow, calculated steps toward the stove. “I don’t need nobody’s help,”
she confirmed louder and lifted the top off one of the pots.
Nikkie smiled at her aunt, filled with admiration that the women in her family had
always been independent. She wanted the same thing for herself; even though she loved
Nikolas, and planned to possibly share a future with him.
“Nope, I don’t need nobody’s help,” Mabel repeated.
“But maybe you can help me, Auntie, because I ‘on’t understand why daddy and
Natasha kept this from me.” Nikkie admitted. “I’m sure you know something else about-”
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Suddenly, her aunt smacked her lips, cursed under her breath (said something
Nikkie couldn’t comprehend), and faced Nikkie, her face flushed.
“Baby?”
“Yes, Auntie?”
“Can you go to the store and pick me up some pepper, Sugah? Old ladies do need
help sometimes, ya know?”
“Oh, I totally understand,” Nikkie, said. As Mabel leaned on the counter and
continued to adjust pots, mix ingredients, and taste-test food, Nikkie thought to herself,
so much for all that independent bullshit.
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Chapter Four
After Nikkie waited for Mabel to write out a checklist the length of a college text
book on a post-it that took five minutes to find, she asked her aunt for the directions to
her and Nikolas’ bedroom again.
“The last room on the lef’ at the end of the hallway,” she spoke but kept working
and moving, removing pots from the oven, and placing seasoning into the contents that
boiled on the stovetop. “Just remember, Viola’s got a little reef hangin’ on her bedroom
doe.”
“A reef?” Nikkie asked. “But Christmas isn’t until at least three weeks from
now.”
“It ain’t too early to start enjoyin’ the Christmas spirit…. However dumb or
fucked up you are.” Mabel’s comment prompted a quick head snap from Nikkie, in her
direction. Total shock was on her face when Mabel said, “Merry Christmas,” with a
smile.
Nikkie left the kitchen and thought to herself how much she’d love to someday
have a large family and cook dinner for them. As she walked from the kitchen and
through the living room, she imagined the Christmas’ she’d spend with her husband and
children, the days before, decorating the Christmas tree. She thought about whether she
saw Nikolas in that future as she climbed the stairs.
The smell is what hit her first, and then she looked down, spotting the orange
carpet. She turned her nose up, and started tiptoeing across it, as if her heels would be
infected from the shag she walked on.
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Down the hallway, she saw the door on the right with the tacky looking reef slung
upon it. She walked faster, ready to take a shower, maybe even persuade Aunt Mabel to
light the fireplace and tell stories of their family’s fast. When she was almost close
enough to open their door, it swung inwards all on its own.
Nikkie jumped back, expecting Nikolas to come barging out. Instead, her cousin,
Viola sashayed outside of the room in some see-through get-up that Nikkie knew Viola
got from some con artist. Spotting those white patent leather pumps, Nikkie giggled to
herself- but only for a moment.
“Oh my Lawd!” Viola screeched.
“Hey…”
“I ain’t seen you in ‘bout how long? Damn near five whole years! That’s a long
time, cousin,” she said, clomping from the room and into the hallway where Nikkie
stood, her body tensed.
“Where’s Nikolas?”
“Who?”
Nikkie cleared her throat, crossed her arms, and repeated, “Where is Nikolas?”
“I asked who for a reason. I don’t know-”
“I know you met him, Viola, ‘cause you can smell men miles away,” Nikkie
hissed.
After gasping, Viola placed her hand over her chest; a silver bracelet shimmered
as it traveled from her wrist and down her forearm. “That’s how you say hi? Well, howdy
to you to, fam’ly,” she said.
Nikkie stared at Viola, waiting for an answer.
23
“Oh, of course I met him, Nichole.”
“My name is Nikkie, Viola.”
“From what I ’member, they called you Nichole since you popped out yo
mamma’s coochi.”
“As far back as I remember we called you Viola Chambers. So practice what you
preach, Big Cousin.”
Viola smirked and Nikkie was sure to tell her off about walking around in see-
through clothes with nothing but a bra and panties on underneath it- especially around
Nikolas. Knew trouble was brewing the moment Aunt Mabel brought the jezebel’s name
up, Nikkie thought. However, she had no time for arguments or sit-down talks. She had
to go to the supermarket for Mabel, and she was sure to take Nikolas along with her.
A room two doors down, the door opened and out walked a handsome man, tall,
with bronze skin. He wore a black tailored suit, silk red-collared shirt, and a white tie. His
large shoes were shinned to perfection, and both Viola and Nikkie exhaled with lust.
His dark shades blocked his eyes, and his lips- lips that Nikkie craved more and
more with each passing second- moved slowly as he said, “Elliott Poole, with EP
Entertainment,” he walked over to the women and extended his hand to Nikkie. A large
diamond ring rested on one of his fingers, and Nikkie was impressed.
“Natasha’s fiancé, right?” she asked.
“Of course, errbody been talkin’ ‘bout ‘im since he made that hot track wit’
ButterUp,” Viola said, her vernacular completely different from the southern twang she
spoke in moments before. Nikkie glanced at her cousin a second longer, bewildered that
she faked her accent for such a long period.
24
“What the hell is ButterUp, Viola? You spray it on pans for easy cooking?”
“No, silly goat, that new rapper from that ol’ group, SexyFunk,” Viola spoke as if
Nikkie should have known this. “They were not only the greatest rap group alive, but
that’s how EP got his start in the game.”
“EP?”
His arm still extended, those shades hiding his eyes, he said “Elliott-”
“Poole,” Nikkie spoke his last name with him, and nodded bashfully. “Sorry, I
forgot.” To her it seemed as if their voices created the sweetest harmony when they spoke
together.
“Is somebody gonna shake my hand or not?” he joked and smiled, showing the
silver grill in his mouth.
“Did you wash yo hands?” Viola asked, pointing to the bathroom door.
“My name is Nikkie, it’s nice to meet you, Elliott,” she shook his hand and felt
tingles run up and down her arm.
“The pleasure’s mine…” he seemed to moan at her. He kissed the back of her
hand, “Indeed mine,” he added.
She snatched away from him. Said, “Elliot, might you happen to know where my
sister is?”
As if on cue, Nikolas came trudging up the stairs with a large suitcase in his arms.
His forehead was drenched with perspiration, and he clutched his winter cap in his balled
fist.
25
“Another one,” he said with a smile. Nikkie didn’t know if Nikolas was talking to
her or Viola, and she refused to accept the fact that he and Viola had a relationship after a
few minutes of… God only knew what.
“Why were you in our room?” Nikkie shot at Viola as Nikolas walked down the
mildewed hallway. Elliot only stood frozen with his shades covering his eyes. He was
like a statue, present but not there.
“Becauze Elliot here was using the bathroom, and you two have the only other
room up here with a toilet in it.”
“Well, next time, use the one downstairs, okay?”
***
Nikkie made sure not to say a word to Nikolas, and he knew he was in some type
of trouble. He walked with his head held low, his gaze centered on something beyond her
vision, his own mind. It was the reason he was so quiet. It seemed as if she always read
his mind, and he remained mute majority of their relationship. “I don’t want you to say, ‘I
knew that,’ every time I tell you about me or how I feel,” he once told her. She didn’t
listen.
As they reached the front door, Mabel shouted, “Nikkie, baby! Yo sistah here to
see you, Chil’!” from in the kitchen.
“Just like Nikkie to walk off without sayin’ hi,” they both heard the other voice
speak in a stage whisper from the kitchen. It was a mousy voice, high and shrill. The
same voice that Nikkie warned him about, her sister, Natasha.
She took a piercing glance at Nikolas, said, “I’ll deal with you later,” and walked
towards the kitchen, Nikolas right on her tail like a trailing pup.
26
When they entered the kitchen, Mabel was sitting down at the table again, fanning
herself with a folded section of the day’s newspaper. Her oxygen tank was next to her
chair, the mask on her face, as she slowly breathed in and out, she pointed to the stove,
obviously giving Natasha directions.
Nikolas couldn’t believe how gorgeous the Washington women were. From
Nikkie to her sister Natasha- and Viola- all of them were knock-out women, he thought.
They would be queens in another country, maybe.
“What’d you say, Aunt Mabel?” Nikkie asked.
Mabel and Natasha both turned their heads in surprise as Nikkie and Nikolas
stood in the kitchen entrance.
“Oh, Chil’, you scared me!”
“Why’re you surprised, Auntie? You told me to come in here,” Nikkie said,
perplexed.
“Sistaaahhh!” Natasha screeched. Her voice was sharp, high, and annoying.
Nikolas thought to himself, I wasn’t at all prepared for that voice, that abomination from
Hell.
Natasha, shorter than Nikkie, tiptoed around the table, kissed her aunt on the
cheek- still moving in the process- and ran up to her sister, wrapped her arms around
Nikkie, and began to cry. She bawled and clung to her sister with trembling arms and
tears rolling down her cute, plump cheeks.
“Hi, Natasha,” Nikkie said dryly, rocking back and forth.
Mabel removed the mask from her face, “You ack like a total stranger’s huggin’
you, Nikkie,” she said.
27
Natasha pulled away, but her hands still gripped Nikkie’s arms. “Yeah,” she
asked, wrinkling her brow, not a tear in her eyes now, “Why are you acting so… stank?”
It looked as though his girlfriend held her tongue as the edges of her lips turned
up into a grin, her eyebrows arched and made her look evil and sinister. She nodded her
head, and wrapped her arms around Natasha, and all three women moaned and laughed
like patients in a mental ward. It was, by far, the craziest thing Nikolas had ever seen a
group of related women do. His family pulled together more than her family did, because
everything was always in place, in order… ordinary.
“You ‘member my list, right?” Mabel asked Nikkie, and put her oxygen mask
back up to her face.
“Yes, Auntie Mabel.”
“Where ya’ll goin’?” Natasha jumped up and down with her hands clasped
together at her chest. “I wanna go. Oh, I wanna go!”
“Stop that, you ol’ goat,” she rolled her eyes at Natasha, and Nikolas frowned. He
remembered her cousin, Viola saying the same thing to him earlier, while they were
upstairs… alone.
“We gotta have a talk, and you can’t be in it,” Nikkie finished, and turned around
to leave. While in her dramatic exit, Nikolas extended his hand to introduce himself to
Natasha when Nikkie belted, “The supermarket close enough to here closes at seven and I
don’t wanna be late!”
Removing the mask, Mabel asked, “What time’s it now?”
28
Natasha looked at the dazzling watch on her wrist, glanced at Nikolas and
whispered, “Yes, it’s Jacob,” cleared her throat and said- in that voice-, “The store closes
at seven? Well, it’s only four-thirty now.”
“I know,” Nikkie yelled as she bolted through the front door.
Nikolas smiled at the two women standing in the kitchen with him. It felt, almost,
as if he were apologizing for their people’s actions, his boo: Nikkie. Felt so weird.
The distant sound of two beeps from a car horn let Nikolas know it was time to
go. He said his goodbyes and we’ll-be-right-backs and headed for the front door.
However, before he reached it, Natasha called out, “Sarcastic little bitch, huh?”
She smiled, and he gave her a slight smile in return.
Mabel gasped for air, and then said to Natasha, “Shut yo’ face and stay the fuck
away from ‘im.” He took this as his cue to leave.
Chapter Five
29
When Nikolas climbed into their rental car, a sporty white Range Rover, Nikkie peered at
him from eyes no more than slits. He slammed the door shut, and Nikkie gasped. Huffed
to her self and peeled backwards out of the driveway.
“Hey!” he shouted.
She sped down Greenleaf Street and onto Dorr Street doing sixty miles per hour.
When they cleared the traffic coming down either side of the road, she headed south, the
heat in the truck blasting in Nikolas’ face. He turned the knob on the dashboard to control
the air vents on his side, and adjusted it to his liking.
“You’re in a bad ass mood,” he said.
She continued to drive, not looking at him.
“I figured you had a problem when you drove off without me, and I waited in the
cold for two minutes until you came back… You mind tellin’ me what the fuck is going-”
Suddenly, the radio screamed to life. Nikkie changed the station from rock-n-roll
to an R&B radio station with fuzzy frequency. Some chick, who Nikkie thought really
couldn’t sing, came on the radio crooning and moaning about taking Popsicle sticks from
the freezer and licking on them. No, she didn’t care for the song, but it was a good way to
tune out Nikolas’ lies, she thought.
She drove, let the woman on the radio rip her ears to shreds with her god-awful
voice, and waited for him to apologize. She even held her breath in anticipation for his
sigh, and a reason why he was being so misunderstanding, and it never came. Seemed to
take forever to find the store where Aunt Mabel told them to shop. For a long time,
Nikkie drove without saying a word to Nikolas or even glancing in his direction.
30
Actually, it wasn’t until they’d driven pass the market two times, and were heading back
towards it, that Nikkie finally said what was on her mind.
“Nik’las, I can’t believe you let her let you see her like that,” she said with a
cracked voice.
“What?”
“With barely anything on. The bitch looks like a whore,” she screamed. She
didn’t care what he thought about her, what she said was the truth. She wanted to tell him
more truths, like how terrified she was that he’d sleep with her cousin. Hell, it happened
between Natasha and Elliott.
She waited for Nikolas to speak his peace, cuss at her, demand to be let out of the
car, but he only let her pout as he stared out the window.
“Do you even care about my feelings a’tall?” she said. He hated when she ran the
two words together, and that was mainly why she did it. He told her plenty of times, “It’s
pronounced at all.” But she never listened, at least not while in front of him.
“Am I here to you? ‘Cause you don’t seem here wit’ me,” she said.
He didn’t respond, and when she pulled up to Lonnie’s Groceries, Lotto, Wine
and Gas Station on Heatherdowns, Nikkie thought she’d burst from frustration. All she
ever asked him to do was be honest with her, and still- miles away from their home- he
wouldn’t trust her enough to share how he felt with her.
She pulled into a parking spot, and shot a quick glance at Nikolas, who was
continuously looking out of the passenger-side window.
“Are you gonna speak to me, Nik’las?” she asked him. She kept the engine on,
and hesitated leaving the SUV. A look of desperation was in her eyes as she grabbed for
31
his hand, clutched it in her grip and said, “I know I might’ve rushed you to come out,
Nik’las, but I was just upset…”
He looked at her, took both of her hands in his, and asked, “Upset about what?
Me?”
She blinked a couple of times, her eyes drifting off into a stupor before seeming to
snap back into place, “What?”
“Are you upset about me?”
“…Oh, no! It was some secret, personal news that my auntie shared with me,” she
said.
“I guess that eliminates me askin’ what ya’ll talked about,” he said with a smile.
She laughed at his remark, relieved that he wasn’t offended by being left out of her
family’s personal business.
“Think you’re gonna be okay?” he asked her, still clutching her hands in his.
“What the hell is that heifer doing?” Nikkie sneered.
“What?”
“That damn whore!” she pointed at the windshield and Nikolas saw what caused
her to interrupt him. “My cousin, Viola.”
A girl who looked about sixteen years old staggered out of a black Mercedes
Benz. She was thinner than a blade of grass, Nikkie concluded, except for the round, firm
buttocks she sported with confidence. Nikkie was relieved that Viola took the sheer outfit
off before leaving Aunt Mabel’s house.
“What is she doing?” Nikolas asked.
“I’m gonna find out.”
32
“No, wait! Don’t embarrass her like that. I mean, you don’t know who she’s
with.”
Nikkie took a longer glance at the man behind the wheel, and gasped with
realization. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with him, but he seemed to pop up
at all the most inconvenient times.
“That’s Elliott she’s with,” Nikkie said.
“So.”
“I should’ve expected you to approve of this infidelity. Should I help them locate
a cheaply priced motel to frolic in after they leave Lonnie’s?” Nikkie screamed with
sarcasm.
“Calm down.”
“He should be with Natasha. He has a good woman waiting for him at home, and
he doesn’t need to be out with trash… Did you know Elliott produced the song for that
new rapper, ButterUp?”
Nikolas stared at her with an unmoved gaze, almost as if he were trying to figure
out who she was. “What is that, some spray-on butter so food doesn’t stick to the pan?”
he asked.
Her cheeks flushed somewhat, “No,” she snapped. “It’s a rap artist who’s getting
lots of attention on the radio. You should turn one on sometime.”
“I don’t Nikkie,” he spoke somberly. “Whenever I have to drive that damn semi-
truck, that’s when I listen to the radio. And that’s all the time. I’m on the road so much, I
can’t do anything but listen to-”
33
“Okay, okay. You listen to the radio, Jebus Dice! You didn’t have to go into all
that. Point blank, Elliott needs to stay away from her.”
“I don’t see how assumptive cock-blockin’ is the proper way to stop two people
from fucking.”
“Please, don’t use that word in my presence,” she huffed, and fanned herself with
a menu she’d picked from the backseat (from their stop at a restaurant on their way to
Seffin).
“You mean the word FUCK?” he raised his voice. “You used the same word no
more than two hours ago, Nikkie.”
She gaped out of the window at Viola, ignoring Nikolas. Saw how pretty her older
cousin looked, how bright her skin was, and how naturally slim her body was. Even her
long brown hair- that scaled down her back- was a remarkable sight.
“I haf’ta save my sister’s marriage,” she said, and bolted from the car, ready to lay
down the law on Viola.
***
Nikolas couldn’t believe his eyes. He didn’t know when Nikkie became so
overbearing, but he knew he didn’t like it. Yes, it perplexed Nikolas as to why Elliott was
hanging out with Viola, but it didn’t necessarily mean they were fooling around with one
another.
He watched Nikkie as she switched her hips across the parking lot, and over to the
Mercedes Benz, a look of calmness on her face that turned a crimson color the closer she
came to the car.
34
When she reached them, Viola was leaning on the driver’s side, chit-chatting with
Elliott. There was something that Nikolas didn’t like or trust about the man. He couldn’t
put his finger on why he felt uneasy around him, but his intuition was warning him a
great deal of Elliott’s dishonesty. To further narrow down his intuition: from the looks
Nikkie gave Elliott, he didn’t trust the man around her whatsoever.
Nikkie tapped Viola on the shoulder, and they spoke casually. He thought a fight
might break out, but the three only talked and laughed for a few minutes, before Viola
walked out of the parking lot and down the street. Nikkie stood at the Benz, laughing and
talking with the guy a little longer. Nikolas noticed how she laughed with her mouth open
and her head tilted back with utter pleasure. He could see from her body language how
much so flirted with him, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
The two talked a few moments longer, and Nikkie walked away from the car and
into the store to get Mabel’s items. Not more than two minutes later, the Benz slowly
pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Heatherdowns, the stereo system bumping
a song with a dangerously catchy 808 pattern.
Out of instant boredom, Nikolas turned the radio up, let his seat back, and closed
his eyes. He was determined to relax and enjoy the remaining two days they’d be at
Mabel’s house. He thought about how difficult the next two days would be if he kept
thinking about Natasha. Something about her seemed innocent, yet so naughty. He sat
and thought about her, though his mind told him not to. He shifted his hardness in his
pants so Nikkie wouldn’t see it once she got back into the rental. Yes, he thought, they all
seem to do this to me, except Nikkie.
Tap, tap, tap.
35
Startled, Nikolas opened his eyes, and looked out of his window. There stood
Viola, a large grin on her face. She wrapped her arms around her slim body, a body with
hips that curved in just the right places. It was as though she invited him inside of her
whenever she smiled in his direction.
He rolled down the window, licked his lips, embarrassed that she scared him, and
said, “Hello? You forget somethin’ in the store?”
She continued to smile at him, her eyes bright and filled with excitement. She
licked her lips in return, hugged herself tighter, and continued to grin at him.
“You forget how to speak English?”
She giggled at his comment, gave his arm a playful smack, and said, “Boy, I just
wanted to say hello to you. Feel rude t’just walk away wit’out sayin’ hi or somethin’.”
Her words seemed sincere, and it flattered him that she’d go out of her way just to come
back and say hi to him.
“Climb in. Me and Nikkie can give you a ride back to Mabel’s,” he said.
Her smiled waned, and she backed away from the truck a little. “I better not.
Nikkie has her rules about her boyfriend’s and shit. It’s okay, I’ll be fine, suga,” she
smiled again. “I got a couple’ve places I best be gettin’ to in the next hour, anyway.
“’Sides, like I said, I’on’t wanna break none o’ Nikkie’s rules…” She sighed, looked
disappointed and said, “I’ll see ya’ll back at the house.”
“How you plan on getting there?”
“I’ll walk,” she said.
He waited a second or two longer before he responded, “Okay.”
36
She turned to leave, but stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around, reached
inside of her back pocket, and pulled out a folded piece of white paper. Handing it to him
ever so inconspicuously, she whispered, “But some rules’re meant to be broken, huh?”
He unfolded the paper and read a number scowled across the middle of the sheet
in bold permanent marker. The name signed under the number read Ms Sugars in sloppy
cursive handwriting.
Nikolas looked up to offer another ride to Viola, but instead there was no one at
his window. He sat up, and looked around, suddenly excited about his stay in Seffin, New
York.
“What you lookin’ for?”
His attention snapped to the driver’s side, to Nikkie throwing a couple bags into
the backseat, and slamming the door. He folded the note and put it in his front pocket
before she hopped behind the wheel of the Range Rover.
“Nothing,” he said to her. He thought she’d see past his lie, like she always did,
but instead she shrugged her shoulders and pulled out of the parking lot, oblivious to the
relationship budding between him and Viola.
37
Chapter Six
Viola walked down Heatherdowns frantically trying to spot Elliott. She needed
his help, but to keep Nikkie from causing problems she decided to leave and spare
herself, Elliott, or poor Nikolas from embarrassment.
Cold and frustrated, she hugged her body for warmth, and could feel her stomach
growling from hunger, but she pressed on. Every side street she walked pass, she’d peer
down the many blocks hoping to see his Mercedes parked and waiting.
When she crossed the intersection at Heatherdowns and Reynolds, she took a
deep breath, felt the cold air pierce her lungs, and coughed. She wished a thousand times
that she would have accepted Nikolas’ offer.
“Fuck Nikkie,” she said aloud to herself. Looking around to make sure no one
saw her speaking to herself, she continued to walk, hoping that Elliott might double back
and spot her. It was foolish of her to give away her only ride home so that Nikkie
38
wouldn’t start shit, but she figured she could remain neutral during her cousin’s wedding.
Even after the rumors started about her and Elliott having an affair, Natasha never judged
her. Viola felt she owed it to her little cousin to keep her mouth shut and go with the
flow.
After an hour, Viola walked from Reynolds Road to Dorr Street, and felt
compelled to pass out just knowing that she had another seven miles or so to walk. Just
then, a car pulled up beside her. The tinted window of a white Range Rover slid down
from the driver’s side. At first, she was startled, but then she smiled with relief when
Nikolas's face appeared.
“Hello.” He smiled back at her, and asked, “You ready to break some more
rules?”
***
“Where’s that Nikolush at?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Auntie Mabel, his name is Nikolas. And I
don’t know where he’s at,” Nikkie told Mabel. Ever since Nikolas disappeared and
cousin Viola couldn’t be found, she started asking questions, causing Nikkie to come up
with her own questions.
“Hand me that remote-control,” she said, pointed at the television, and Nikkie did
as told.
They’d been sitting in the living room watching television shows. Mabel was
perched in a rocking chair that looked over a decade old. She rocked back and forth, as
she watched a football game. A glass of red wine sat on a foldout table just beside her
chair, becoming warmer. In the past hour, Mabel had made Nikkie her own personal
39
servant, and while she was a patient person, her aunt was, without a doubt, supplying the
last straw to break the camel’s back.
Not soon after Nikkie handed Mabel the remote-control, she turned the volume
down while an old episode of the television show Maude played.
“Don’tchu wonder where yo’ play thang is?” Mabel asked.
Sighing out of frustration, Nikkie stood up. “I’ll call him, Aunt Mabel.”
As she turned to leave, a question popped up in her head, so she turned around,
hesitated at first, then she asked, “Why do you care where Nikolas is so much?”
As Mabel turned the volume to her television back up, she grunted. “Tell them
girls t’come inside,” she commanded Nikkie.
“What girls, Auntie?”
“They in the backyard- You can’t miss ’em, baby.”
Next to Mabel was a large, white, plastic bowl of sliced fruit. On a plate just
beside the bowl of sliced fruit was a half-eaten piece of a pork-chop. Any of the other
side dishes she ate with the meal where completely consumed. It seemed to Nikkie all
Mabel did was sit around her house, cook, eat, and sleep. Hell, thought Nikkie, it’s all
she’s been doing for the past hour.
She’d been racking her brain for what seemed like an endless hour, trying to
figure out where Nikolas could have ran off to. She didn’t know where Viola went after
she spoke to her at Elliott’s car window. She tried not to be rude to her cousin, so she told
her that Aunt Mabel sent a message: Go home and help with something. When Viola
asked what Mabel needed help with Nikkie said she didn’t know. Lying was not one of
Nikkie’s strong points, and she knew Viola saw through it, because she paused, a half
40
smile on her face, and said, “No problem,” before saying her goodbyes to Elliott and
switching down Heatherdowns Blvd.
“Honey, go on upstairs and fetch an old woman her walkin’ cane,” Mabel said to
Nikkie.
“You have your walker next to you, Aunt Mabel. What do you want with a cane?”
“You try walkin’ around with this huge ass piece of shit to lug, and you’d want a
cane to,” Mabel said, tossing the remote-control down on one of the couch cushions next
to her. “If ya can’t do it, jus’ say so, but don’t be askin’ tons of question when ya can jus’
say no.”
“No, I can’t do it,” Nikkie said. She peered at Mabel with intent eyes, sure to not
budge on her decision. Mabel hadn’t been anything but negative since Nikkie got home
from the store, and she didn’t even say thank-you for Nikkie running her errands.
Mabel stared at her with a glance deep enough to pierce Nikkie’s bone marrow.
“Why?” she asked.
“’Cause I have something to do.” Nikkie turned to leave again, and Mabel
grunted, and then said something under her breath that Nikkie couldn’t hear. She didn’t
care, either way. She wasn’t visiting for Mabel. She visited to be loyal and supportive of
her little sister. Sole purpose of the trip was all about endorsing Natasha’s wedding, and
Nikkie was determined for that sole purpose to remain her number one priority.
When Nikkie reached the back door, she swung it open, startled by what she saw.
There were seven people in Mable’s large backyard, one pulling up weeds, two sawing
down uncompromising tree branches, another two paving a sidewalk that ran down the
41
middle of Mabel’s yard, and two young ladies who looked like twins, were hanging
sheets on a wire clothes line.
Nikkie stared at them working so hard, couldn’t believe that Mabel had the money
to pay these people. When did they arrive? she asked herself.
Taking a deep breath, Nikkie shouted, “Mabel said the girls can come inside!”
The only man in the bunch, who was helping pour the concrete, threw a bucket
across the yard, put his balled fist on his hips and scowled.
“Are we gonna get paid fo’ the work we did, or is you gonna try and screw us
ova?” one of the twins said.
“We been out here for six hours today,” the woman who was pulling up the weeds
said. “She betta not try and pay us three dollars an hour again.”
“Yeah,” the rest of them shouted.
“We’ve been workin’ hard,” said the other twin, and the group nodded their
heads, confirming her statement.
Nikkie turned around to leave, but stopped, and said over her shoulder, “Is my
name Mabel Miles?”
42
Chapter Seven
Nikolas and Viola sat in the parking lot of an old abandoned movie theater. They
had been talking for the past hour, both of them forgetting about the time, and a woman
whose rage they would certainly feel if she found out about their rendezvous: Nikkie. But
Nikolas couldn’t help but spend time with the cousin made of “southern imitation” and
enjoy talks of future and happiness. They spoke of dreams, goals, and fond memories
from their childhood. The night had gone smoothly, until Viola faced Nikolas and cleared
her throat. She didn’t speak after her action, she just blinked at him and he blinked back
at her.
“Something I can help you wit’?” he asked her.
She gave a coy smile, said, “I apologize fo’ starin’ at you, Nikolass-”
“Nikolas,” he said.
“That’s what I said.”
“You called me Nikolass. My name ain’t Nikolass, it’s Nikolas.”
“Well, ’xcuse the hell outta me, Mr. Grammatically Correct,” she giggled to
herself, and Nikolas loved it. He loved that she spoke her mind, and not in an
overbearing, or even arrogant fashion. In just an hour’s time, he was beginning to like the
openness, the laughter, and the all around good time he had with Nikkie’s cousin. What
scared him the most wasn’t his possible infidelity with Viola. He was afraid that his
attraction to her would begin to border on more than just physical.
“I was starin’ at you, ’cause- I love my cousin, don’t get me wrong. I jus’ can’t
fo’ the life of me unda-stand what you see in her,” Viola said.
43
“She’s an attractive woman. Seems a little too young to be gettin’ married, but
other than her age, she doesn’t seem like a bad person. She sho’ looks nice- But all of you
do,” he shot her a smile that bordered between charming and flirtatious.
She smiled to herself and played with the contents inside of her small cream-
colored purse. “That’s all fine an’ dandy,” she said, “but I was speakin’ ’bout your
girlfriend, Nikkie.”
He tried to hide his embarrassment, but his skin began to flush before he had time
to think of a lie. Just a misunderstanding, he thought. Well, why do I still fell so guilty?
He asked himself.
“Ah, sorry about that. I misunderstood you,” he finally said.
With another chuckle, Viola seemed to forget about the entire incident (the same
way she forgot about their first embarrassing encounter in the hallway). She sat next to
him, crouched in the passenger seat of the rental hugging her own self. Seemed innocent
and needy. There must have been some drastic things she did to her family for them to
distrust her so much, Nikolas thought. Even in the hour they’d spent together, he saw
more honesty, compassion, and conviction in her, more than he saw in his own girlfriend.
“T’be honest,” she told him, “I was lookin’ at you, ’cause Nikkie is so lucky and
she takes you fo’ granted all the time.”
He knew her words couldn’t be truer, but out of guilt for already breaking
Nikkie’s rules- or commandments- he decided not to feed the particular section of the
conversation they’d entered. Though he knew in his heart that Viola didn’t have ill
intentions about their instantaneous “meeting”, he didn’t trust his own intentions. Nikolas
couldn’t remember the last time he and Nikkie had great sex, and for the past month
44
she’d done nothing but nag at him for frivolous shit. A fresh pair of breasts and legs were
a sure-fire way to loose brownie points with her, and wind up back in the doghouse, a
place that took six months of begging to get out of.
Remembering her statement, he rubbed the corners of his mouth, up and
downward, in repetitive strokes- a habit he picked up from his father when he’s without
words. Soon those hard-to-produce “things” called words formed a rather clairvoyant
response.
“I accept her for who she is. She might be overbearing, judgmental, and a tab
arrogant, but her good qualities outweigh her bad ones. Hell, I’ll admit that she’s been
heavy over the past few months, but I can take the load. That’s what love is all about,
right? I dunno. It might seem like she’s too heavy, but it’s kinda the right fit.”
“We talkin’ about body weight or your girlfriend, ’cause you’re confusing me,”
she said.
They laughed.
“You know what I’m saying.”
“No, I don’t. You talkin’ ’bout heavy loads and her outweighin’ a semi-truck-”
“I didn’t say that,” he laughed with her. “Now you’re lying!”
“Don’t blame me ’cause you can’t speak,” she kidded him, and he felt so
wonderful just having a great time with someone. He didn’t have to worry if he was
saying the wrong thing or if he should instinctively know to do this or that. That’s how
Nikkie made him feel, like a half-wit.
“Yeah, and I hope there ain’t no semi-trucks at the weddin’,” Viola howled with
laughter.
45
“Speaking of semis, how’d you know I drive one?” he asked her.
“How you jus’ know I knew? You brought up the heavy talk. ’Sides, you think
Nikkie didn’t tell us what you do fo’ a livin’?” she asked him.
“No, I figured she’d tell you what I do for a living. I wonder if she told you what
I’d like to be doing.”
“Let me guess. Swimming the English Channel?”
“No.”
“Becoming an NBA soupa-star!”
“Nope.”
“I give up,” she said.
“After only two guesses? I’ll give you a hint. I play an instrument…”
She pondered to herself for only a moment, rubbed her chin, like a man would do-
Nikolas thought it a very peculiar gesture for a woman to perform. She said, “Lookin’
atcho fingers, I’d say you play the piano.” She softly gripped his long, slender fingers in
her small embrace.
“There’s an elegance to them, and a toughness. Almost seems like yo’ fingers are
an extension of you or somethin’,” she spoke, but what seemed like to herself.
“That was very insightful of you, Viola!” Nikolas beamed, very impressed by her
observation.
“Don’t be,” she burst into laughter. “Most people like to play the piano. I
guessed.”
She dropped his hand.
46
His trust for her marginally fractured, he smiled and said, “Well, your guessing
skills are keen.”
“I’ll open up the next Psychic Friend’s Network- How long’ve you been playin’?”
He sighed, in a rather harsh tone, said, “For about fifteen years now.”
“You’re how old?”
“Twenty-seven,” he responded with a smile. “You know what I’m about to ask
you, right?”
“Sure, ain’t no shame in mah game, brothah,” she playfully punched him in the
chest, and gave him slits for eyes before responding, “No, forreal, though. I’m twenty-
seven also.”
A deep silence, short, but as long as a boring book, seemed to fill the space
between them.
“What?”
“You just seem so much younger,” he told her. “God, I thought you were about
seventeen- twenty at the most.”
“Well, I guess my guessing skills are keener than yours, huh?” she said.
Another short, but long silence.
“Sometimes, I wish I could speak to her,” he told her. His sentence caused the
laughter and high spirits to die down a little. They both settled into their seats and stared
at the deserted parking lot.
***
“It’s 6:45, been an hour now. Where’s your dick at?”
“Auntie Mabel, must you be so foul mouthed all the time?”
47
“Shut the fuck up,” Mabel snapped at Natasha. “You thank jus’ ’cause you got yo
associate’s degree that you jus’ so fuckin’ smart. Comin’ up in mah house correctin’ me.
Well, I gotta PhD,” she lifted her eyebrows, let out a laugh, and finished, “So correct
that.”
“Excuse me,” said Natasha. Opening up her arms wide, she exaggerated, “I forgot
to read the headlines about you and your precious PhD. What’s your doctorate in,
anyway?”
“Cosmetology,” Nikkie answered for Mabel.
“Is yo name Aaron?” Mabel asked Nikkie.
“…No.”
“Is mah name Moses?”
“No, Aunt Mabel.”
“Well stop talkin’ fo me,” Mabel took in a deep breath. “I was the first-”
“What do Moses and Aaron have to do with me knowing you have a degree in
Cosmetology?” Nikkie asked.
Mabel positioned herself more comfortably in her chair. A half-eaten plate of
pork-chops, cabbage, biscuits, and corn on the cob sat teetering on the arm of her seat.
“You see, this is why yo parents should’ve made ya’ll go to chuch mo’ often.” She
cleared her throat. “I know ya’ll ’member ’bout Moses goin’ to Egypt to free his people,
cause I taught ya’ll the story mah damn self.”
Nikkie and Natasha nodded their heads.
“Well, God was talkin’ to Moses, and he told Moses that he needed to free his
people. Now, Moses was a defiant sonofabitch and was makin’ up a bunch of excuses
48
and shit. He said he couldn’t speak t’ Pharaoh of Egypt ’cause he had a speech problem,
right. A stutter. So, God told Moses that his brother Aaron could speak for him.”
“Oh, I remember that,” Nikkie said with a smile.
“That’s what the fuck Aaron and Moses haf’ta do wit’ you answerin’ questions
fo’ me,” Mabel tore into her.
Shooting an agitated glance at her sister, Nikkie decided to ignore the behavior of
Mabel and keep things neutral- at least until after the wedding.
“I opened the first black owned beauty shop in Seffin. That had t’be damn-near
forty years ago…”
“Wasn’t Karen’s Cuts the first black owned beauty salon here? I believe it was
back in ’65.”
“How do you know that?” Natasha asked.
“Momma told me,” said Nikkie. “Said she’d visited family here, and the woman
was a friend of Uncle Morris.”
Mabel looked at Nikkie with intense eyes. “Your dick’s been gone for an hour
now, suga. What you plan on doin’?”
“Stop calling him ‘my dick’. His name is Nikolas, and why should I trip because
he’s out somewhere without me. We’re not Siamese twins joined at the hip, Aunt
Mabel,” she laughed at her own joke. “He’s a grown ass man.”
“So is Violet. And I bet his growing dick is rammin’ in and out o’ her growin’
coochi-hole… Like someone else in this room should know from experience-”
“Come on, Aunt Mabel!” Natasha slapped her open palms down on her thighs.
“That’s going a little too far, doncha think?”
49
“Don’t play stupid. With yo prestigious associate’s degree, I’m sho’ you smart
enough to put two an’ two t’gether.”
“Hey, Aunt Mabel, lay up on her degree,” Nikkie interceded for her sister. “You
know she’s been too busy to finish her bachelor’s.”
“Yeah, well what’s yo damn excuse? Last I heard you’re runnin’ ’round in
nightclubs singing like that bitch from that movie, Da Color Purple.”
Natasha giggled, but quickly regained a somber expression when Nikkie threw
her a menacing glare. “I followed Nikolas when he was trying to do the same thing Elliott
is doing. Not everybody got it like that, Aunt Mabel.”
All became silent.
“Did you even get yo dipluma?” Mabel asked.
“My what?” asked Nikkie.
“So you actin’ stupid again? You went to school for twelve years, and you don’t
know what a dipluma is?”
“Yes, Mabel, I did.”
“I’s shocked. You did get one afta all.”
“Aunt Mabel, my high-school education doesn’t make a damn bit of difference
when it comes to Nikolas and Viola.” Nikkie added, “And for your information, he’s
been gone for an hour and twenty minutes. With yo prestigious Cosmetology degree, I
figured you should know the accurate time.
“Oh, and what you received when you graduated from high school was a
diploma.” Nikkie leaned towards Mabel and added, “Not a dipluma…”
Natasha was speechless as she sat on the couch next to Nikkie.
50
“Now,” Nikkie smiled at Mabel. “Correct that.”
Chapter Eight
Five hours later
51
Nikkie had been tossing and turning. She’d retired for bed no more than an hour
and a half ago, and Nikolas still wasn’t back. Viola hadn’t been home either, and what
with Aunt Mabel’s questions and stories, Nikkie was sure something wasn’t right. She’d
called Nikolas’ cell-phone dozens of times and received no answer. And the last time
Viola owned a cell-phone, president Bush Jr. was being re-elected, so Nikkie had no way
of trying to get in contact with her cousin either.
So many thoughts were racing through her mind, and she tried desperately to
suppress them all. Nikolas had been emotionally disconnecting from her, and she could
sense it. She wasn’t ready to give herself to him, but she knew the sexual calls of Viola
and even possibly her sister, Natasha, might prove too strong for poor Nikolas. She knew
there would be no second chance for them if he screwed up this time.
Him screwing up: the most frightening thought so far. The most frightening
thought was of him and Viola together. She shuttered when she thought about it, even
when she stupidly pictured the act in her mind.
Turning over, she fluffed her pillow aggressively, maybe trying to take her anger
out on the feather stuffed support, and then slammed one of the pillows between her thin
thighs to suppress her agitation.
Knock, knock, knock.
When Nikkie heard the soft taps on the bedroom door, she knew it wasn’t
Nikolas, and boisterous Viola has never been so quiet. It had to be only one person.
“You can come in, ‘Tasha,” Nikkie called to her closed door.
The door opened slowly and in walked her rail-thin sister. Her nightgown was a
stunning powder blue, and her breasts seemed massive compared to her tiny frame.
52
“I knocked, ’cause I didn’t know if Nikolas was back yet or not.”
“It’s okay.”
Natasha closed the door after walking in and sat comfortably on the edge of the
bed. Not wanting to, but compelled to keep her promise, Nikkie leaned up and flicked the
switch of the lamp on the nightstand. When the soft light hit her sister’s face, the
smoothness of her skin was almost breathtaking to Nikkie. Her younger sister had always
looked prettier and more innocent. Had she not blamed Nikkie for her own mishaps, she'd
have spared her sister many an unnecessary beating; but after Nikkie’s betrayal, she
couldn’t help but forgive her sister for the petty things they’d done to one another from
childhood.
“I went to Viola’s room.”
“It was empty,” Nikkie answered.
“Doesn’t necessarily mean she’s with Nikolas.”
“I know.”
Nikkie slowly removed the pillow from between her legs so that Natasha couldn’t
see her eradicate it.
“How long has it been?” she asked Nikkie.
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
Natasha sighed, but smiled at her sister. “Pillow between your legs? You can’t
hide anything from me.” She said, “Remember, you would sleep in my room some nights
because you were scared the letter X from The Letter People Show would come and kill
you for making Zs while you were sleeping?”
53
Nikkie laughed so hard her stomach hurt. “He might have thought I was stealing
them. And I heard ma and dad talkin’ bout cloning, and how it would kill God and the
world,” she laughed, waved her hand. “I was just young. The cartoons would show
people sleeping and a trail of Zs would be above their heads, so…. But that was more
than twenty years ago. How do you know that?”
“I remember it. Mama told me over a dozen times- so did daddy. Plus, I know
you. You think I don’t know my big sister?
“No.”
“You just need some powerful P in your life, that’s all.”
“Powerful P?” Nikkie asked, with an eyebrow raised.
“Powerful Penis,” Natasha said matter-of-factly. “And I ain’t trying to get
personal, sister, but why isn’t your man giving it to you?”
Nikkie reached over, turned out the light, and pulled the covers over her head
before responding, “Similar question is: why isn’t he here now?”
In the dark, all Nikkie could hear was soft breathing. Natasha didn’t respond to
her sister, didn’t ask any more questions, but stood up, walked around the bed, kissed
Nikkie on the forehead and exited as quietly as she came.
***
Birds chirped, and the world seemed to buzz with excitement as the sun rose in
the east, causing Nikkie to stir awake in bed. Surprisingly, she awoke refreshed and ready
to start her day. Then the remembrance hit her like two semis colliding at full speed:
Nikolas never came home last night.
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She instantly jumped from bed, put on her silk housecoat and rushed across the
hall. She didn’t open the door, she just stared at the reef. She studied the frame outlining
the door, tried to see if she could make some sense of everything just by looking at the
lines in the wood, by examining the reef hanging on the door. She kept asking herself
why her cousin would do something so downright dirty. And to think, Viola did the same
thing to Natasha. Nikkie felt foolish for believing she could trust her cousin.
She gripped the door handle with anger freshly running throughout her body, took
a deep breath and barged into Viola’s room.
Deep under the covers laid two lumps, two bodies, two people. Nikkie couldn’t
believe her eyes. She couldn’t believe her ears either, because the gentleman nestled
beside Viola was snoring as loud as Nikolas.
“Viola!” Nikkie screamed. The name flew from her lips before she had time to
control herself, and when she spoke the name, the snoring instantly stopped. A head
hesitantly peeked from the covers.
Chapter Nine
Nikolas pulled up to the Buda Bar on Laskey Avenue as the sun arose over the
horizon. Cars whizzed down the road in total determination to beat the traffic and arrive
55
to work on time. With all of the energy buzzing around them, Nikolas and Viola felt at
peace. They’d sat in the abandoned parking lot of the old Maxwell’s music store for the
past eight hours. He was surprised that a squad of police didn’t try and harass them for
possible prostitution or a drug transaction.
“You sure you wanna go in a bar. I can take you home. I mean, we’re going to the
same place,” Nikolas offered.
Viola wrapped her arms across her thin frame, smiled politely and said, “You
know Nikkie and all her rules.”
“Er, I think we’re past that by now, V.” He started calling her V after the first
hour of chatting. They’d grown so close. She clued him in about the family rivalry, why
they all despised her, and the truth about her and Elliott. He confided in her his feelings
for Nikkie. And believe it or not, all they did was speak of his girlfriend for the past eight
hours. He assumed that Viola didn’t mind, seeing as how she fueled most of the subjects
about Nikkie.
“We’ve caused enough drama fo’ one day. Natasha’s weddin’ is in another day,
and I don’t want no problems. I’ll call your cell from a pay phone in ’bout two hours, let
ya know I’m alright and I’ll be home soon.”
“Why go through all this, V. Just tell Nikkie how you feel.”
“No. She ain’t the type o’ chick who’s sympathetic. Hell, you know. You’re
datin’ her!”
“You’re right,” he confirmed.
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“This is for the best. It ain’t like we’re not gonna talk again. We just need some
space between us so that Nikkie, Natasha, and ’specially Aunt Mabel ain’t trippin’ if we
step through that door t’gether.”
Nikolas clutched her hand in his. He held firmly, wishing that he didn’t have to let
go.
“You know, I’ve never had a sibling. You feel like the closest I’ve ever come to
it.”
She blushed.
“I hope you ain’t disappointed ’cause we can’t glue our pelvises t’gether. But I
respect my cousin. After that shit wit’ Natasha, I wouldn’t dream of goin’ through that
family drama again.”
He released her hand from his. “Why apologize? Not all men are dogs. I love
Nikkie and I wouldn’t dream of putting her in the shit I did a year ago.”
“Or you wouldn’t dream of putting yourself in it again.”
“What you mean?”
She opened the car door, let the cold air brisk in and sent the hair on Nikolas’
arms rising. “You ain’t foolin’ nobody. You’re afraid of bein’ alone. I rarely see guys like
that, but you’re afraid.”
“Please,” he said, put the gear in drive and pressed his foot firmly on the break
peddle, preparing to drive off.
“I’on’t judge you, Nikolas. I really don’t. But you hafta ask yourself if Nikkie is
the best girl for you. I know you love her, but she doesn’t seem t’ be returnin’ the
57
emotion, baby. I told you what I told you, ’cause I respect ya. Use that information
wisely, okay?”
Nikolas pondered to himself. He thought about Viola’s words and made sure to
store them in the back of his subconscious. He had no reason to distrust Viola, but she
wasn’t the one he’d been in a romantic relationship with for the past five years. He
needed to give Nikkie another chance, and he had to make up with her, and make sure
that she forgave him for his past indiscretions- whatever she thought that was.
“I’ll call you,” Viola said, closing the car door.
Nikolas rolled down the window, “Thank-you,” he told her, with much
conviction.
“For what?”
“For listening.” He rolled the window up and drove down the street, not waiting
to see if Viola was actually going into the bar or traveling to another destination. He
discovered a love for her, but until he solved his problems with Nikkie, he had to keep his
and Viola’s relationship on the back burner. As hard as that might be, Nikolas was
willing to do so, as long as he didn’t end up in the dog house with Nikkie again.
58
Chapter Ten
“What the hell is going on?” Nikkie tried to remain cool, calm, and collected, but
the shock of the situation seemed to lodge inside of her throat; she couldn’t produce any
sound. She just stared at the face. She gasped when she realized who was in Viola’s bed.
It wasn’t Nikolas and her cousin who were snuggling comfortably in the sheets. It was
Natasha and Elliott!
“Excuse us!” Natasha shouted.
“Oh, my god!”
“What’s goin’ on?” Elliott groaned. His face wrinkled with confusion. She jolted
him from his sleep.
“I’m so sorry,” Nikkie whispered.
The chiseled chest of Elliott peeked from underneath the cover, and the word
Gemini was tattooed on his left pectoral in old English style penmanship. His smooth
skin and lazy eyes seemed to call her. She also noticed the small object rising under the
covers, just around Elliott’s groin.
She exhaled, tried to let the temptation mist away with her breath, but found
herself placing a trembling hand to her chest.
“Get out,” Natasha mouthed to Nikkie.
She turned, swung the door shut, the reef swaying slightly from her force. Her
breathing slowed as she faced the door, but her hand remained over her chest as she heard
Elliott’s baritone voice ask, “Wha’da hell is goin’ on?”
“Nothin’, Ness. Go back to sleep,” Natasha said. Her tone was soothing, though
the way she spoke to him was almost in a command.
59
“Oh, my god,” Nikkie constantly repeated to herself, Elliott now in her mind,
Nikolas nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, she heard a rustling from the end of the hall, at the top of the staircase.
Startled, Nikkie turned to see Mabel sitting on the top step, her walking cane rested on
the orange carpet.
“Where’s your-”
“Auntie Mabel, don’t start with that,” Nikkie cut her off.
Without a single ounce of anger contained in her voice, she said, “Don’t tell me
what the fuck to do in mah own damn house. You can geet yo shit and geet the fuck out.”
She spoke evenly.
Nikkie remembered the promise she made to herself: remain calm through
Natasha’s wedding. After the ceremony, she’d be free to say and do whatever she
pleased. But she owed it to Natasha to keep her promise and so she kept her mouth shut,
housed the insult she was so ready to hurl at Aunt Mabel and shook her head.
“Caught ‘em in bed wit’ each other, huh?”
“Who?”
“Viola and yo Nikolas,” Mabel scrunched her face when she spoke Nikolas’
name.
Nikkie laughed to herself, not whole-hearted, but mildly. Said, “You shouldn’t
make assumptions on things you know nothing about.”
“So why is you shakin’ and lookin’ all worn out? You must’ve saw somethin’
that’s makin’ you look like a ghost.”
Hesitation. “It was nothing,” she answered.
60
“You crazy goat, you think I’m that stupid. Spill the shit, and stop fuckin’ me ova.
It took my fat ass too long to climb these here steps, so you gone tell me somethin’,”
Mabel ordered.
With reluctance, Nikkie told Mabel who was in the room. Of course, she
neglected to mention the fact that she couldn’t recall what the hell her boyfriend looked
like at the moment, but she had a vivid image of Elliott… and that damn tattoo.
He’s a Gemini, Nikkie thought to herself.
“Makin’ some coffee. Got some thangs to talk to you ’bout. Help an old lady
down these here stairs, and we’ll sip an’ gossip befo’ we do the dishes and mop the
kitchen flo’.”
“Oh, you let your backyard slaves go home early, so you want me to do it?”
Nikkie asked.
“I said ‘We’ Chil’. Not jus’ me. Now, come on. Mah knees is swellin’ up.”
61
Chapter Eleven
The two sat at the kitchen table while Mabel soaked one of her feet in the bucket
used for the mopping. Took the old woman almost twenty minutes to get down the stairs
and into the kitchen, but maybe five minutes to put some bacon in a skillet, crack a few
eggs, and alternate from the table to the stove, tending to both the bacon and scrambled
eggs.
“Aunt Mabel, how am I supposed to mop the floor if your foot’s in the bucket?”
Nikkie asked as she messaged her temples, trying not to wonder where Nikolas was.
Slowly pulling her swollen foot from the bucket, she said, “I know, Chil’. I fo’got
all about this here bucket. Was soakin’ my feet earlier. Jus’ heard some commotion and
went up stairs.”
“You crawled up all those stairs just to be nosey?”
“How else was I gonna hear? This is mah damn house,” Mabel said.
Nikkie scoffed, “If you wanted to know what happened, you could’ve just asked.”
“You silly ass goat! You think I expect ya’ll to tell me the truth? The ol’
grandmamma- stupid enough to believe everything, huh? Hell, naw. Not me. I keeps my
nose in ev’ry thang goes down in this house,” she said, and dipped her puffy foot back
into the bucket of water.
After a moment…
“I’m not cleaning that thing out.”
“Well, what was the point of sayin’ you’d help do the moppin’ and the dishes, if
you don’t do shit?”
Nikkie stood up from the table.
62
“You know, this is some bullshit,” Nikkie said, made Mabel gasp somewhat.
“’Xcuse me?” she asked Nikkie.
“The man I came up here with has been gone for over eight hours, and you wanna
use me to empty your mop bucket-”
“Listen, Nikkie.”
“And then you expect me to wash your dirty ass dishes? I thought you had
something to talk about.”
Mabel slammed her hand, palm down, on the table (that caught Nikkie’s
attention). “If you’d shut the fuck up fo’ a minute, I can talk to you.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Aunt Mabel.”
“I got very im-po-tent in-fah-mation to share wit’ you, and I need you to pay
attention, Chil’.”
“But I ain’t nobody’s slave-”
In her usually casual tone of voice, Mabel said, “Fuck the damn mop bucket,” and
slowly pulled her foot from the bucket, grabbed a large dry-towel from a nearby kitchen
chair, and dabbed her swollen foot while Nikkie sat back in her chair and waited.
When Aunt Mabel seemed finished, she faced Nikkie, something clutched in her
palm. Her hand's light complexion seemed, to Nikkie, covered with liver spots, and when
she opened her hand, revealing her secret, Nikkie covered her mouth with both hands in
stupefaction.
“Auntie Mabel, that’s so beautiful! How much is it worth?”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” she said with an intense glow in her light brown eyes.
***
63
The entire drive home, Nikolas kept reminding himself that he needed to come up
with a believable lie. To be honest, with himself more than anyone else, he wanted to tell
the truth. Who died and made Nikkie God? Why did the entire family- with the exception
of Mabel- treat her like British royalty?
Driving past a large billboard, Nikolas got a clear glimpse of that new rapper,
ButterUp. On the billboard, the artist stood profiled, lips in a snarl, partially showing the
platinum grill in his mouth. Almost as if he were a cut-out, Elliott was pasted in the upper
right-hand corner of the billboard, a black suit and tie on, his faded hair airbrushed an
amazing black. To Nikolas the man simply looked like money. Maybe that’s why, he
thought, Natasha is marrying him.
Then Nikolas pictured himself on the billboard. Except another rapper or singer,
someone more talented- more worthy- would don a spot on a billboard with him.
He sighed. Tried to forget about his love, his passions. Tried to forget the reason
why he and Nikkie split apart for almost three months. But that always seems to be the
problem with regressed memories: when awaken, they can scare one’s very soul.
Nikolas began to hum a melody that was repeating in his head since he dropped
Viola off. Though he wasn’t ready for her to leave, he knew he’d held her hostage for far
too long. The reason: she listened to him. They spoke about his dream of becoming a
great producer, maybe the next Quincy Jones or Kanye West. This news excited Viola
and she asked more questions. The longer they sat, the more he poured out to her. She
believed in him, even asked him to hum a few of his tunes, and when he did, she yelped
and clapped with joy. “I could be your manager,” she’d told him. “I’m coo,” he said,
64
making them both break out into laughter. He told her he didn’t trust a woman as his
manager and when Viola asked why, Nikolas responded, “They’re too damn smart.”
Of course, Nikolas asked Viola about her plans for the future, hopes, and dreams.
“I really like PR, to tell you the truth,” she said, always hugging herself for
warmth, even though Nikolas had the heat setting in the SUV on Hell’s Kitchen.
“Public relations, huh?”
“Yup,” she smiled, almost jumped in her seat, and settled back down. “I like to
promote stuff. When I was younger, I used t’ put t’gether house parties and shit. I’d have
all the college crews at some random spot havin’ the time of they lives!”
“Sounds interesting,” he said.
“Hell yeah! I even put on press release parties for local artists. I’m tellin’ you,
Nick, I’m the best addit when it comes to sellin’ shit.” She’d given him the nickname
after he started calling her V.
Nikolas gazed at her in amazement.
“Is that so?”
“That’s right. Can sale fire in hell and water to a whale, boo-boo.”
Her confidence and ambition had him smitten. He couldn’t help but constantly
compare her to Nikkie. Why? Nikkie didn’t approve of all that “producer stuff”.
“You get involved in that industry, I ain’t seeing you at home, and you’re out doing God
only knows what!” Nikkie said. And that was that. Sure, she tried to go on “tour” with
him about a year ago, but the idea didn’t work out, she went back home, he stayed on the
road, and that’s when he got the call. That’s when Nikkie’s mother phoned and said it
would be best if Nikkie and he not speak to one another again. He couldn’t believe it.
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Instantly, he abandoned the band he was playing with, hopped on a plan and arrived at a
vacant apartment. She’d cleared everything out, put his belongings in storage, and
changed her numbers. When he thought about what she’d done so long ago, the hurt still
swelled in his heart. It was embarrassing as hell to call up his contractor and ask if the
trucking company had any extra routes he could run, after he had quit to pursue his
dream. He was tired of being on the road, tired of letting his dreams drive by, untouched.
To add insult to injury, the bullshit that Viola had shared with him last night only piqued
his interest in exploring his dream career. But, again, he had to confirm it with Nikkie
first.
Suddenly, a lyric came to Nikolas’ head, and he figured he might be able to pitch
it to Elliott. What would be the harm in trying? Nikolas thought. Either he said yes, or he
said no. Either way, Nikolas would have at least jumped for the opportunity. Furthermore
in driving his decision was that it was the first lyric he’d come up with in less than half an
hour that was so dynamic. He wanted to share it with Viola, but felt unsure and
unconfident about his writing abilities. Put a piano in the room, he’d rip the strings inside
of that large instrument- I mean, he thought, the strings wouldn’ t even be able to keep
up with Nikolas Adam’s fingers. However, to have a pencil, write a lyric, and believe the
words he wrote, he had not mastered that art yet.
Then he sang the lyrics aloud as he drove to his destiny, maybe to turn his ideas
into reality.
“It’s just the love you give
Spark my heartbeat and I’ll live
Your love’s so sweet
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But it’s a sin
Your love’s a sin I’m swimming in”
Chapter Twelve
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“Why’re you showing me this?” Nikkie asked her aunt, awe the only expression
on her face.
“There’s somethin’ we need t’ talk about. I know you know I ain’t stupid, right?”
“With all of your degrees, I mean, how could you be?” Nikkie was determined to
let that be the only sarcastic remark she directed toward Mabel until after the wedding.
“Yeah, okay, little bitch, but I’m trustin’ you. That’s why I called you in here.”
“What’s there to trust? You steal it from somebody or somethin’?” Nikkie asked.
A scowl on her face, Mabel said, “I oughtta throw this at yo’ face fo’ sayin’ that. I
ain’t never stole nothin’ from nobody in my life. That’s a sin, baby. ’Member what I
taught you ’bout sin?”
Nikkie sighed, said, “I live in it everyday, Aunt Mabel. I don’t need a lesson. Why
are you giving me this expensive necklace?”
In Mabel’s hand was a large diamond necklace, sparkling beautifully in the
center of her palm.
“I’m givin’ this here to ’Tasha-”
“Why?” Nikkie blurted.
“’Cause she gettin’ married, that’s why.”
“I didn’t get offered no fifty thousand dollar necklaces…”
“If I ’member correctly, you and Nikolas been jus’ bumpin’ pelvises fo’ the past
five years. And I heard you can’t even help the nigga and support his dream-”
Nikkie waved a hand at Mabel, “I don’t care what you heard, Aunt Mabel. I just
asked why she gets such an expensive gift and the guy she’s marrying cheated on her.”
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Mabel shifted in her chair, took a quick glance back at the pots burning on the
stove, and directed her attention, again, to Nikkie. “That’s one test that a lot of people
fail.”
“What test?”
“Forgiveness, Chil’.”
After tossing the statement around in her mind for a moment, she said, “I guess
you’re right, Auntie.”
Mabel huffed, said, “I know I’m right… By the way, you see Viola yet, she ain’t
pay me the ten dollars she owe me, and she been doin’ this shit fo’ a while now. I’ont
wanna hafta fuck her ass up,” Mabel said in a tone as calm as a frozen sea.
“What about forgiveness?”
“When my ex cheated on me- you think I didn’t forgive him? Hell yes, we had a
Mirrill Lynch account worth nine-hundred thousand dollars. I forgot about his
indiscretions quick as a snap,” she snapped her fingers hard and quick.
“Nine-hundred thousand dollars? I knew you and Uncle Morris had dough, but
not that type of money.”
“I told you I ain’t stupid, Nikkie. I owned my own beauty shop- I’on’t give a fuck
it was the first, second, or fifth one, I ran my own shit. I built a dynasty that that
motherfucka tow down when he left.”
“…Who?”
“Bugs Bunny, Nikkie. Who the hell you think? Morris, Morris, my ex-husband,
Chil’. When he divorced me he took ev-ery-thang. All my girls started gettin’ beat, the
Brothers stopped helpin’ us, and- But that was a different time. Different shit.” She took a
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breath. “Now, Natasha found a brothah who can help her get her singin’ career started,
the man got money, so I’m helpin’ her sow her own...” She thought for a moment,
determined to choose the correct word to describe her thoughts.
“Her own?”
“Physical prenuptial backup.”
Nikkie let out a small laugh. “Aunt Mabel, Elliott is worth more than fifty
thousand dollars. Plus, you’re giving her that… thing, not Elliott.”
“That thing is something for her to fall back on, just in case the nigga changes his
mind. He ain’t getting married without a prenup, and you know that. Imma teach her to
be a smart woman and invest every penny fo’ a rainy day.”
“Rainy day?”
“In case the nigga up and leave, Chil’. Prenup signed, she’s outta his graces. She
ain’t part of his money no mo’. Us Washington women had to work hard to build
somethin’. Jus’ wait till mah sistahs come. You’ll find out.
“But that brothah, Elliott, might want a new pair of thighs to swim in, be it female
or male-” she cut her sentence immediately, maybe, Nikkie thought, for a more dramatic
touch. “And end his relationship. She got to be prepared. A Washington is always
prepared.”
Mabel’s gaze trailed over to the kitchen window, her eyes containing a distant
glaze to them.
“But when the nigga divorced me he got that entire Mirrill Lynch CD… Talk
about bullshit, right?”
“He got all of that money?”
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“’Cause I made mo’ money then his faggot ass. I shoulda had his motherfuckin’
ass sign a prenuptial agreement. But I own property all around the country. I owned one
of the best beauty salons in Seffin, plus I hustled like a pharaoh, Chil’. I might’ve lost
some of mah girls, the Brothers, some of dem buildings, but I ain’t wantin’ fo’ shit. Alas-
that’s a word means I’m sorrowful or I regret what I’m ’bout to say-”
“I know, Auntie.”
“-When the judge let him have that CD, I went into depression…”
Aunt Mabel leaned a small ways across the table, toward Nikkie, said, “I lost my
mind. Had t’ see a seechiatrist for years… But back to the basics, Chil’- I tend to do that,
veer off when I’m talkin’ personal shit and business at the same time.”
Nikkie couldn’t hide the slight smile that formed on her lips, “You never talked to
me like this before. Never shared so much… I dunno, so much about your fall. Seems
more humble than I remember you being.”
“Change of plans,” Mabel said. “This is what I need you to do fo’ me…”
Suddenly the front door creaked shut, the sound of a thump followed by the
baritone grunt of a man. Nikkie knew just who that man was. The dog had finally come
back home.
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Chapter Thirteen
When Nikkie stormed from the kitchen, she could almost imagine Aunt Mabel
grabbing her oxygen tank and scuttling along behind her, trying to be nosy. But Nikkie
didn’t give a damn about privacy, at that point. What boyfriend visits his girlfriend’s
family and stays gone half the night?
Her vision cleared as she made her way closer to the front door, saw it closed, and
glanced at the staircase, seeing Nikolas walking, casually, up to their room. He had on the
same clothes from yesterday, Nikkie observed, and Viola never came home. There could
be a connection, thought Nikkie. Maybe he dropped her off somewhere before coming
home. So many thoughts, but she knew she needed to confront him.
“Nikolas Patrick Adam!” she belted upward at him.
He continued to walk up the stairs, not paying her any attention. He disappeared
out of sight, and Nikkie turned to her right, saw her Auntie standing a few feet away- not
that she was surprised to see this- and gave her an expression asking for help, advice,
anything.
“That’s yo dick. ’Sides, my name ain’t Nikkie Washington,” said Mabel. Must
have been one of her “workers” from the backyard who called herself telling on me to
Mabel about my comment, Nikkie thought. Though she didn’t mean any harm, it wasn’t
her damn responsibility to tell those people about getting paid. That was Mabel’s
business.
Nikkie shot Mabel a smile, said, “Your wisdom is worth the seventy-something
years you’ve spent on this earth. Thank you for shit, auntie.”
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Mabel grinned back at Nikkie, not at all fractured by her niece’s insult, though it
seemed. But Nikkie didn’t have time to exchange words with Mabel when she should be
upstairs speaking with Nikolas, so she turned on her heels, ignored Mabel, and headed up
the stairs in pursuit of her boyfriend.
***
Fast on his heels, Nikkie caught up with Nikolas as he was turning left and into
their bedroom.
“Nikolas!”
He turned around, a fire in his eyes. She stopped, her mind, her body momentarily
rigid with surprise. When he noticed her obvious fear, he slowed his breathing and tried
to calm himself.
“Don’t come at me wrong, Nikkie. I swear I’ll walk out and leave your
motherfuckin’ ass here. Do you understand me?”
He stood, fingers balled into fists, hanging at his sides. His eyes seemed to burn
holes into her very soul, and he felt uneasy for showing her his aggression- a side of him
he’d managed to suppress through most of their relationship.
Nikkie didn’t respond to his question. Instead of answering, her lips moved apart
and back together like a dying fish out of water. Her eyes searched him.
“Tell me you understand me, Nikkie. Say you understand or I’m leaving…”
Same fish stare, no answer.
“Do you understand me?!”
She jumped, and a startled expression flashed across her face for only a second.
He thought to himself, she covered that up well.
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“D- do you?” he quivered, and tried to hold back his emotion.
She made the fish lips a couple of times, stuttered and said, “Um… Yes.” She
cleared her throat, put her hand on her chest, and began to twirl the fifty thousand dollar
necklace around in her palms while Nikolas walked inside of the room, leaving her in the
hallway.
She hovered in after him. Nikolas: packing a bag, Nikkie: staring in utter fear.
The fish lips were gone, but nothing could mask the uncontrollable fear that showed on
her face, a face tight with a brown sugar complexion.
“Talk,” he ordered.
This was the first time that Nikolas felt powerful. He could challenge anyone for a
change, and he would. No more of the world telling him he couldn’t do what he felt in his
heart to do. And fuck any one of Nikkie’s family members who doubted him. Luckily
Viola didn’t, and the information she’d shared with him last night gave him all the power
he needed to face Nikkie.
“Look, I don’t know what you’ve been drinking on- ’Cause you always go off and
drink when you frustrated- but I need an explanation first. Like where the hell you were
all last night.” She placed the necklace in her pocket, folded her arms across her chest,
and tapped her right foot. “Now you talk.”
He forced the words, “If you don’t stop bullshittin’ me and tell me what you know
I wanna hear, I’m leaving you here alone.”
“Stop trying to blackmail me into making things up. I don’t know what you’re
talking about. All I know is you were gone all night and Viola didn’t come home so-”
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“So that’s what this is all about,” Nikolas said, sitting down on the large bed in
the center of the room.
Nikkie remained at the entrance to the bedroom, standing in the doorway. She
looked cautious. The ammunition Nikolas had against her sent him flying with feelings of
power and pride. For the first time in their five years of dating, she was wrong and he was
right, and no self-help book written by some doctor, suggested by Oprah could make her
side of the story any better than his.
But you need to lay into her, he thought. Get it over with.
“So you suspect I’ve been with Viola, huh?” that was the nicest way he could start
the conversation. Though he loved Nikkie, it was difficult for him to yell at her without
the benefit of her pissing him off beforehand.
She sighed, pulled her hair- that was already in a tight ponytail- to make sure each
strand remained in place. Nikolas could see the frustration on her face. He knew she
wasn’t aware of this transfer of power, didn’t realize or remember her mistake. Lying for
the past year must have made her believe the shit is real, Nikolas thought.
“Did you fuck her?”
“Did I fuck Viola.” He spoke the words slowly, letting them drip from his mouth
for her to hang on every drop.
“Yes!” she all but screamed, yet calmed down again. “Did you sleep with her?”
He looked at her, searching her eyes, looking at her body. With her arms crossed,
and her feet apart, she resembled the perfect silhouette of a stern woman, ready to defend
her family, thoughts, and past.
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She took several deep breaths, awaiting his answer. Would he say yes, would he
say no? The suspense felt lovely to Nikolas, and for once Nikkie would understand what
it felt like on the other side of the interrogation table. She could feel a lose of power, she
just didn’t want to accept it. She was still denying the past, or trying to forget it.
“Did you sleep with my cousin, Nikolas,” she asked with more authority. She
expected an answer.
Nikolas giggled, let his chin drop to his chest as he sat on the bed, eyes glued to
Nikkie’s flushed cheeks, mad eyes, and tapping foot. He loved watching this. The
transfer of power was almost complete.
“No,” he responded, staring her dead in the face. “But who is Nathan and why
where ya’ll fuckin’ while I was on the road?”
Slap! It was like playing the card game Spades. His hand was greater than hers
and now she could either fold or continue with the game. It was a game she started but
had no idea Nikolas would finish. This, of course, all depended on her response to his
question.
He peered into- or seemed to peer through- her large brown eyes, shock and
confusion in them, and repeated his earlier command:
“Talk.”
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Chapter Fourteen
It took Mabel Miles at least ten minutes to walk down the four stairs that lead to
the basement. She needed to take the finished clothes from the washing machine and
throw them in the drier. Also, she wanted to call Sam in private, keep up with the
progress of the Calhoun affair. She’d given Nikkie the necklace, and started to believe
that she might have given it to the right woman by mistake.
“Hello,” Sam answered the phone deep voiced, it being scratchy and husky from
sleep.
Mabel threw wet clothes in the drier, handful by handful as she spoke on her
white cordless phone, her purple muumuu damp from the wet clothes that brushed across
it.
“Hey, Suga. This here is Mabel.”
“Hey Mabel,” Sam’s voice became stronger, his response filled with more life, his
voice, a tad higher.
“Yeah, Baby, I’m tryin’ t’ find out what’s goin’ on with them Calhoun’s.”
“Nothin’ so far, Mabel….”
He paused on the other end of the line and allowed the sound of clothes slamming
into a drier to take over the conversation. Then he sighed, laughed off whatever he was
thinking and started again.
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“So I know you excited about yo’ niece’s weddin’, right?”
The slamming shortly ceased. “Cut the bullshit,” she snapped at him. “Whatever
it is you gotta say, say it, honey.”
He hesitated a moment longer, and then said, “I ain’t never seen you this scurred
befo’ in my life. Not of nobody.”
Mabel laughed with all her might- and what seemed to be her large gut, and then
the slamming of the clothes started again.
“Listen, baby, I’m cautious, I ain’t scared. Furthermo’ I just need to keep up with
my environment. Hell, you think mah ass got this old and wrinkled from bein’ a stupid
motherfucka? I’on’t thank so.”
Another hesitation.
“You think this’ll lead to another war? Like the one back in ’71-”
“Oh please,” she cut into his sentence, had to cut into his whining. She’d never
heard a grown man stutter and ask so many questions. But he was before the war. Sam
wasn’t born until 1976, he was too young to remember, but he was old enough- and
nosey enough- now to keep track of the Calhoun family’s movements. She needed him
more than she cared to admit.
Calming down a bit, and closing the drier door with a hard slam, she placed her
thumb over the END button on the phone and said, “If we get Nikkie to take it- maybe
even take ova, then we ain’t got no problems. Natasha’s out of the equation. At least fo’
right now anyway… So I’ll go on upstairs and try t’get her movin’.”
“Where is she at? On her way?”
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She scowled at the cordless, “No, you ol’ goat. She upstairs, like I jus’ said. She’ll
be there soon. Auntie Mabel knows how to sell fire in hell and water to a whale, baby!
Just shut the hell up and wait. Bye-bye!”
And with her sentence expressed, she pressed down on the END button and
terminated the call with Sam instantly.
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Chapter Fifteen
Taking a deep breath, Nikkie hummed some tune to herself. In the midst of her
hums, Nikolas could have sworn he heard her say, “Silly Billy goat,” but he wasn’t sure.
He felt uneasy around her, the way she sang as they argued, as if what he had to say
didn’t matter. “Then,” he’d told her before she decided to go on tour with him, “you tell
me my wanting to be a producer is a dream, but you sing around me constantly. Why?”
To his question, she produced the melodic humming of some tune.
“I don’t respond well to orders, Nik’las,” she told him.
He stood up from the bed, let the mattress sigh a relief, and he started slowly
walking in Nikkie’s direction. Out of sheer instinct, she began to backup slowly, taking a
step only when he took one.
“Now you runnin’ away from me?” he asked her.
Realizing her actions, she paused, mumbled a few more words under her breath
and stood tall, erect, and ready for whatever he was going to do. That was something he
always admired about her: she wasn’t afraid- until it came to his future, his career, his
dream.
Starting back up again, slowly, he took small steps toward her as he looked into
her eyes. She held his gaze as firmly as his, but couldn’t hide the slight twitch of her
plump upper lip.
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“You don’t know what I’m talkin’ about? You must not, because you didn’t
answer my fuckin’ question!”
Something snapped in Nikkie’s expression. “Don’t you go yellin’, cussin’, and
raisin’ your voice in my auntie’s house,” she whispered at him.
“It isn’t like your precious Aunt Mabel talks like Mary Poppins. The bitch’s
vernacular is worse than a damn sailor’s.”
She gasped. “You goat!”
“Bitch just throws the words ‘sugar’ and ‘child’ in between curse words,” Nikolas
paused and then started to playfully “maaaa” like a sheep in Nikkie’s direction. She
gasped again and he laughed, happy to get under her skin for a change. “I’ll say whatever
I gotta say to you. You just answer the motherfuckin’ question.”
She flinched when the cuss word came from his mouth. She wasn’t used to this
type of speech from him. Even when she’d abandoned him and he called her, begging her
to come home, asking her why she left, he never raised his voice or cursed at her.
Oh, how things change.
“What do you want me to say, huh? That I was lonely and needed somebody? Do
you want me to tell you some made up story to satisfy your hurt ego? I don’t know where
you where last night, but I damn sure-” she realized how loud her voice had risen and
calmed herself.
She started back up in a whisper. “But I fo’ damn sho’ know that hussy Viola had
something to do with this.”
“Why’s that?”
“’Cause, she’s always running her mouth about stuff she knows nothing about.”
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“Such as?”
“I dunno… Just… stuff she has no clue about…”
He stared at her eyes, her lips, her nose, the small amount of hair near her ears
that made up her side-burns. He studied all of this, these features looked so familiar, but
he didn’t know the woman standing in front of him.
“Nathan, Nikkie,” Nikolas belted the words at her. “Who is Nathan, and why
were you screwin’ around on me?”
Instead of answering his simple question, she unfolded her arms, stared up at him,
a thin smile spread across her lips, and then slapped him in the face so hard it felt like
she’d broken his jaw. The crack sent ripples of awareness to his cheek, jaw, and senses.
He doubled backwards and onto the bed.
Nikolas expected Nikkie to rush out of the room, dash down the hallway
screaming that he’d tried to hit her or something, but instead she closed the bedroom
door, turned and faced him with flushed cheeks and eyes wide with excitement. Nikolas
thought: she looks like an owl possessed by a demon!
In the same stage whisper she consistently spoke in since she entered the
bedroom, she said, “Where the hell is Viola?”
***
“Take this, please,” Viola begged Elliott as he sat out in the driveway of Aunt
Mabel’s house. Natasha was riding shotgun, arms crisscross around every inch of
Elliott’s designer suit. She was just like Nikkie, Viola thought. Natasha and Nikkie were
given everything they desired as children, so they adored material things. Sad, but Nikkie
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might have damaged the one relationship where the brother actually cared about her- and
didn’t cheat (though Viola marginally believed Nikolas in regards to that).
Hugging herself tightly, she reached out her hand towards the car window, and
Natasha pressed the button on the side of the door, made the window glide up and block
out Viola’s offering.
“I said, ‘No!’” Natasha screamed from behind the window.
“I don’t want any handouts, ‘Tasha, so just take the money.”
Rolling down the window only a smidge, she said, “This be a Mercedes, boo. Five
bucks don’t do shit for this gas tank.” To her comment, Elliott doubled over laughing,
occasionally slapping his long fingers against the steering wheel.
Frustrated and exhausted, Viola merely stuffed the five-dollar bill in the strap of
her bra, and then zipped her coat all the way up to her chin. She stuck her tongue out at
Natasha, and as always, Natasha returned the gesture.
“Thanks,” Viola mouthed to Natasha.
A nod of the head was all Viola needed from Natasha as acknowledgement.
She turned and walked towards the front door timidly, Elliott’s Mercedes slowly
pulled out of the driveway. Viola stole a glance at them in the car, laughing, happy,
content with life. They seemed content with love, and Viola couldn’t get her and Nikolas’
conversation out of her mind. He lived in a dream, but managed to maintain a level-
headed attitude towards life.
Grabbing at the string around her neck in which a single key hung at the end and
into her cleavage, she kneeled down and unlocked the door- the key was still on the
string; the string remained around her neck.
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Another glance at the Mercedes, the laughing, the happiness and she saw the
taillights become smaller and smaller as the car descended the street. The early morning
blue sky cast a grey dull over the city, and Viola tried desperately to remain positive. She
knew once she turned the doorknob and walked through the threshold anything could
happen.
She took a deep breath.
Turned the knob, walked in and saw Mabel standing in the hallway, facing the
front door, leaning on her cane, her oxygen tank by her side, oxygen mask tight around
her plump cheeks. She removed it the moment Viola spotted her.
“Aunt Mabel!” she exclaimed.
Titling her head back ever so slightly, Mabel moved her lips as if she was sucking
on hard candy and said, “I gotta talk to you. This is im-po-tent.” Her expression was
tough and cold as a block of ice atop a cement block.
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Chapter Sixteen
Nikolas sat in the lavender chair next to the large window overlooking Mabel’s
enormous backyard. Acres of land stretched past his eyesight, and he wondered about
Mabel’s past. He wondered about those Washington women. With each thought came a
stinging sensation just at the base of his jaw. It wasn’t the first time Nikolas had been hit,
and not by a woman. It was, however, the first time that Nikkie physically assaulted him.
In five years of dating life, it was the first time they experienced domestic violence.
“I’m sorry I hit you,” she said after a moment.
Nikolas remained silent.
“It’s just that you hurt me. How… I don’t wanna accuse you of anything, but I
can’t believe you’d sleep with my own flesh and blood.”
Silence from Nikolas.
Nikkie walked midway to Nikolas, but decided to sit on the right side of the bed,
keeping her distance from him. Taking her purse from her shoulder, she slammed it in her
lap and began rummaging through it. She eventually pulled out a small compact, flipped
it open, and began straightening her hair while gapping in the mirror; her mouth slacked
open a little. When she was finished, she closed the compact, slammed it in her purse,
and looked at Nikolas.
His gaze was on the deer that pranced around in the white snow outside of the
window. That’s when he realized it was snowing for the first time that winter. His heart
fluttered, and he hated that he had such sensitive moments. In his heart, though he loved
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Nikkie, he wanted to be singing Christmas carols to his children during the first winter
snow, and eating the dinner his wife prepared for the family. As clichéd as it may sound,
it was what he wanted, but he wanted it while living their dreams.
She cleared her throat. “Nik’las… I guess we can put all these things out on the
table. Yes, you might think that what I did was wrong, but it really wasn’t. You were
gone all day and all night. I’d call your c-phone and you iggin’ the phone calls.”
He looked at her, a disgusted expression on his face.
“What?” she asked.
“C-phone? Iggin your phone calls? Who are you, ‘Gangster Nikkie’?” Nikolas
huffed.
She laughed, bright and cheerily, waved her hand in his direction, and continued
talking. “A sister can use some street vernacular every now and then.”
“Okay… ‘American Gangster.’”
“Anyway. I’d been seeing a bunch of shows about men cheating on their wives
while on the road- especially men in the music and movie scene. It scared me. Got me to
wondering where my life was heading.
“Nik’las, I’m only an entry level CPA. Took me longer than expected to finish
college, but that’s nobodies fault. I ain’t judgin’ you or trying to put you down because of
it. Then you started wanting to travel on the road all night like you were nineteen or
something. Nik’las you were twenty-six years old. What would you have done if I was
pregnant. For God’s sake, didn’t my happiness mean anything to you?”
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Nikolas stared out of the window. Though he heard everything she said, he still
couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive her, much less speak to her. He wanted her to get to
the point: her affair.
She laughed to herself, said, “And to add more stress to my life, Aunt Mabel is
trying to persuade me to give Natasha some fifty-thousand dollar necklace-”
“Fifty-thousand dollars?”
“Did I speak Martian? That’s what I said, ain’t it? But I know she’s up to
something else. Something… I just don’t know what.”
After a moment: “Who’s up to something?”
Nikkie snapped back to reality and told him she was talking about Aunt Mabel.
She got up from the bed, and Nikolas heard her heels clumping into the carpet and
over towards him and his view of the deer outside. As she got closer, the deer ran off and
into the trees further out into the acres owned by Mabel. It seemed to disappear from the
presence of Nikkie.
“Have we made up?” she asked him.
His gaze remained out of the window, hypnotized, perhaps, by the white snow
now invading his vision instead of the elegant deer nibbling on trees carelessly. Then his
eyes traveled up and at Nikkie, who stood a considerable distance from him, fearing him.
She didn’t trust him and he could sense it, like an animal could smell fear. “Who is
Nathan, Nikkie?”
Nikkie smiled to herself and then let out a defeated laugh.
“Where is Viola, Nik’las?”
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Chapter Seventeen
Charles Calhoun sat in the back of the black Lincoln Town car with tinted
windows. He loved anonymity and held it’s effectiveness dear to his heart. After so many
years, he was finally going to get his revenge for the death of his brother, Douglas.
“This is the address, Sir,” a man in his mid-thirties- who was Charles’ chauffer-
said, his eyes, planted firmly on a house nestled in the back of a street called Greenleaf.
Charles lit a stogie, puffed it to life, and watched the cloudy smoke fill the entire
car slowly. His face was fat, his chin was actually chins, his gut hung over his dick, and
he had developed a mild case of diabetes over the years. Yet the crow’s feet at the corner
of his eyes gave him the striking handsomeness women created pandemonium for in the
old days. Back then, he could get any woman he wanted, at any time. Now, pushing
eighty-two, he knew he didn’t have the charm to get back into Mabel’s life. He didn’t
have the strength to force his way into her life. But he had someone else who was more
than willing to do both.
A few ashes fell on Charles’ Italian suit and he brushed them off in a casual
manner, looked at the expensive watch on his chubby wrist, and asked, “What time is it,
Lawson?”
The man behind the wheel looked at his wrist watch, a plastic get-up with rhine-
stones around the face. “It’s ten-thirty, Sir Charles.”
A smile crept on his lips.
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“I do believe he’s late for his first meeting.”
“It’s not ten-thirty one yet, sir. Please, give him a moment,” Lawson said, ounces
of confidence in his voice.
“If he’s one minute late, I shoot his brains out. Right here. Right now, and you
can clean it up.”
Charles didn’t notice the grip Lawson had on the steering wheel. Charles didn’t
realize just how terrified Lawson was. Fortunately for Lawson, he’d never show Charles
the extent of his fear.
Just then, the back door to the town car swung open, and a long, slender leg in
slacks stretched inside of the car. Along followed his lean upper torso, and his other leg.
He was a tall man, maybe about six feet three inches, Charles decided. His skin was pale,
and his hair was slick back in a Fonze from Happy Days style. His jacket reeked of some
cologne that irritated Charles’ old nose.
“It’s still ten-thirty, Sir,” Lawson said from behind the wheel, trying to hide his
smile.
“Good for you, Mr. Deveo,” Charles said, a cloud of smoke billowing from his
tight, pink lips.
“Please,” the man spoke, his voice low and raspy, “Call me Marcus.”
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Chapter Eighteen
Viola sat at the kitchen table, a look of astonishment on her pretty face. Her
plump lips stuck out in a small smile of disbelief. Then she giggled, and was sure that
Mabel’s frown was not the trigger of laughter.
“Come on, Aunt Mabel,” she eventually said through fits of laughter.
With a face like stone (her favorite facial pose) she said, “Does it look like I’m
playin’ wit you, Viola?”
More fits of laughter. “I just assumed you were.” When she realized that Mabel
wasn’t laughing, she calmed herself, gathered her composure and asked, “So could you
run all this by me again. You know, now that I’m somber.”
Mabel stared at Viola with an unflinching determination to keep the situation
serious. Whatever Mabel had to talk about, it didn’t seem miniscule; whatever it was, it
was extremely serious.
“What? Tell me this again. You’re talking about guns, and people killing each
other. Mabel, I’ve always heard about the guns you carried around back in the day. I saw
you sleep wit yo gun in yo hand the last few nights. Is that why you keep unlockin’ the
door and I hafta keep lockin’ it?”
Mabel rolled her eyes, “Yo loose tail is the one’s been lockin’ mah door?”
“My loose ass is probably making it harder fo’ those creeps to get in here and take
your life- Oh, my gosh. I’m believin’ this stuff.”
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“Listen to me, Viola. I need you, Natasha, and Nikkie to drive to New York City.”
“Hell no!”
“What?”
“Hell to the no, Aunt Mabel,” Viola stood up from the table. She hugged herself,
stroking her arms and shaking her head back and forth as she looked at Mabel.
“Oh, so that’s it,” Mabel laughed to herself, but kept her gaze fixed heavily on
Viola. “You selfish thang you. You ain’t stormed outta here yet, ’cause you wanna know
what’s in it fo’ you. Right?”
Viola hugged herself, shook her shoulders in a manner rougher than usual, and
stomped her foot after several moments of silence. “Okay, Aunt Mabel! What do I get
outta doin’ this, anyway?”
Mabel, maybe trying to match Viola’s melodramatic behavior, attempted to stand
up- several times- and plopped back into her chair, exhausted. She said, “Fuck it,”
reached for her oxygen mask, and put her pointer finger up at Viola, saying “hold on.”
“Sure, you have tons of time to waist,” Viola said.
Mask off: “You little bitch. I might be old, but I ain’t dyin’ in the next thirty
fuckin’ seconds.”
“Aunt Mabel,” Viola laughed, “I’m talking about time to get this stuff t’gether.
You said yourself some old gangsters are after you, and you in the kitchen makin’- what
the hell are you makin’?”
Mabel turned to the stove, and looked back at Viola with a smile. “Food.”
“I know it’s food, Aunt Mabel. What exactly is it?”
“No, I’ll give you some food if you go with Nikkie and Natasha.”
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Viola waved her hand at Mabel and walked to the entrance of the kitchen. Before
exiting, she turned to Mabel. “Two questions: What makes you think Nikkie and Natasha
are even gonna go to the City and do I look like a German Sheppard to you? I’ll work for
money, not food. Thank you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Natasha and Elliott sat in the driveway of Mabel’s house. The engine of the
Mercedes hummed softly as the two listened to one of Elliott’s new tracks. It hadn’t been
released to the label yet, but he wanted Natasha’s opinion of it. What he didn’t know was
that Natasha was bored with the song after the first ten seconds. Up until this moment,
Natasha hadn’t heard a song of his that she didn’t like. She knew his ego was fragile and
she feared telling him the absolute truth about his music. But, she thought, what’s the
point of getting married if you’re gonna say the vows after speaking lies?
When the song ended, Elliott turned down the radio and looked at Natasha with
large, excited, childlike eyes.
“So,” his smile widened. “Whaddya think?”
Natasha smiled at him, trying to find the correct words to use, to lie to him.
“Well…”
“That’s it? You just think it’s well? I thought the bass line had the sickest lick
since Thriller from the ‘80’s.”
“You mean, Michael Jackson, red jacket, eighties shit?”
“That’s the greatest entertainer alive, ‘Tasha. Respect him, alright?”
“Whatever, whatever. I jus’ think the song could use a little mo’.”
“Like what?” he snapped at her.
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She turned away from him and faced the window, “I dunno… Stop asking me
these questions. I ain’t a music producer, you are.”
“But you said you wanted to be a singer. A famous singer is what you said you
wanted to be. So shouldn’t you learn how to pick a hit?” he asked, talking to her as if she
were a small child.
“I jus’ wanna give myself, completely- without charge,” Natasha said.
Elliott pulled her closer to him, wrapped his arms around her tightly, and kissed
the top of her head before saying, “’Tasha, my baby. They’d rather have it for free…”
She punched his chest, smiled and said, “You silly ol’ goat. I meant giving myself
to you. Completely, without want.”
“Oh!” he said, holding her tightly. “I ain’t payin’ for it either. I mean, I already
had it.”
She held him, a little too tight.
“Ouch!” he whispered.
She pulled away from him, something in her hand, something so heavy it made
her wrist look like it was about to snap. She raised it high, almost to Elliott’s eye-level,
and let it dangle in front of his face, back and forth in a slight sway.
Natasha gasped; he looked at her with a brazen smile. Then she asked, “Elliott,
who’s gun do I have?”
***
Nikkie turned the doorknob, ready to exit the room and Nikolas’ life. It was too
painful for her to remember her past, and it took a long time for her to forget the incident.
She didn’t need Nikolas getting in her face and questioning her.
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Suddenly, she turned around, looked at Nikolas slumped in the lavender colored
chair and in a seething voice said, “That damn Viola. I wish I knew some spell or voodoo
magic to turn her into a crouton. Nik’las, you know where I could find something like
that?”
Nikolas made a slight nod of his head, and stood up, “Yup,” he stretched. “Let me
pull Miss Cleo’s business card outta my ass.”
He walked around the bed and up to Nikkie. He took her hand away from the
doorknob, looked her in the eyes, holding both of her hands in his, and said, “I need you
to be honest, Nikkie. I need you to trust that I won’t get mad. Hell, I need you to give me
the benefit of the doubt, and stop trying to beat me to my mistakes.”
She smiled, laughed, tried to stop the tears from forming in her eyes, then turned
away from him, sniffled, held her hand over her mouth and muffled a sentence.
“What?”
She turned to him again, grabbed his hands, and said, “I’m so sorry, Nikolas. I
made a mistake.”
“No, what did you say when you turned away?” he asked.
“I… I said, ‘I’ve been acting like a lunatic,” she spoke in a coy whisper.
“Oh, baby,” he rubbed his hand across her cheek, making her breathing flutter,
but for only an instant. He said, “But you’re my lunatic.” Then he sighed. “Guess who the
luckiest guy in the world is.”
“It sure isn’t your father!” she yelled, snatching her hands away from him.
“What? What did I do now, Nikkie?”
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She pushed him away from her, but he only took a couple steps backward.
Rebounding, he walked closer to her, held her shoulders and asked again, “What did I
do?”
“You called me a lunatic!” she bellowed.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Should I remind you, you called yourself a lunatic first?
Remember?”
“You didn’t have to agree… Get your hands offa me,” she lifted her shoulders,
releasing his embrace, and caused his hands to smack into his reddening cheek.
“Ouch, damnit!” he put a hand to his cheek, and when Nikkie realized his pain
she burst into a fit of giggles. Nikolas, astounded for only a moment, began laughing as
well. Nikkie did not notice herself leaning into Nikolas, becoming vulnerable instantly.
“So should I put a steak on it?” he asked her.
She slapped his chest with the tips of her fingers, said, “You naughty boy!”
He pointed to his face. “I mean, for my cheek, Downtown Leona Brown.”
She looked at him closely, her face dancing in his eye’s reflection. Although
Nikolas wanted to know the truth about their separation, she didn’t want the magic, that
was now, to end. She didn’t want to loose the playfulness and passion that attracted them
to one another.
“Who is this Leona Brown woman?” she asked.
“She’s a boxer. Anyway, should I?”
“Should you put a steak on your cheek?” she questioned. “That’s what you’re
asking me?”
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“Yes,” he smiled, then leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Or should I
speak in Spanish? What about pig Latin? Anything but English, huh?”
“Steak? At eight bucks a pound? Until you tell me about you and Viola…” She
lifted on her tip-toes and pulled Nikolas’ forehead to her lips. After giving it a soft kiss,
she dropped to her normal height, walked to the door, and opened it a crack. “…How
’bout we put a frozen hamburger paddy on it so the swelling can…” Her gaze traveled to
his crotch, “…go down? Besides, that’s more cost effective anyway.”
***
Before Nikkie could reach the bottom of the stairs, she could hear Natasha’s
voice, screeching, yelling, annoying. She and Elliot must be in a fight, Nikkie thought,
she could tell her sister’s screams apart from one another. There were Natasha’s happy
screams, scared screams, angry screams, furious screams, excited beyond delight
screams, the list went on and on, and Nikkie was happy, for some reason, to not only feel
the tension below, but she could cut it with a steak-knife before entering the room.
As she trotted down the staircase, she wondered where her joy was coming from.
Was her life that pathetic she had to see pleasure in other people’s pain? Alas, Nikkie was
dying to find out what the commotion downstairs was. Nor was she ashamed to say
praises to God for not making her “situation” with Nikolas the family’s live
entertainment during the wedding rehearsal or the marriage ceremony.
On the second story of the house, Natasha, Elliott, Viola, and Aunt Mabel stood,
mouths flapping open and shut, faces flushed, arms wailing wilding in the air. The scene
was complete madness, Nikkie thought. The wedding rehearsal was no more than three
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hours from now, and the family (can you believe it, the bride and groom?) were in
complete disarray.
Not soon after Nikkie took her first few steps from the staircase, Natasha spotted
her and pointed.
“Ask Nikkie. She’s always the sensible one,” Natasha exclaimed.
Rolling her eyes, Viola said, “Most sensible one in a mental ward.”
Aunt Mabel turned and walked into the kitchen as the women and Elliott argued,
over what, they really didn’t know. At least that’s what Nikkie figured.
Natasha walked up to Nikkie, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her toward the
kitchen and away from Elliott. As she passed Elliott, clutched in Natasha’s small grip, her
sister swooped Viola’s arm and they hightailed in the same direction, to the same
destination: the kitchen.
“What’s goin’ on?” Nikkie heard his voice and wished he didn’t have to see the
mess her family was starting. She wanted him to go back upstairs so they could pack their
bags and leave. She’d thought about it no less than two minutes ago. Why go through all
this family bullshit for Natasha, she thought, when she might not stay married longer than
six months?
“They trippin’,” Elliott said as he pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and
placed them on his flawlessly smooth bronze skin.
At that moment, Nikolas saw Viola, and the force behind her intensity seemed to
dissipate somewhat when she saw his smile. It wasn’t very noticeable, but Viola could
see it. Nikkie saw him smiling at Viola. Noticing her. She could see it all; did not like it
either.
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“Nikolas.” Viola acknowledged him without reserve, confident in her feelings,
and bold with her actions. After the bitch screws my man, Nikkie seethed to herself, she
regards him without guilt!
Nikkie reached around Natasha and slightly shoved Viola, although she only tilted
from Nikkie’s ambush, she looked offended none-the-less.
“Viola,” Nikolas said, nodding his head at her.
A scream bellowed from Nikkie’s mouth as she charged around Natasha and
slapped Viola’s forearm. Natasha started to scream in her high-pitched annoying voice,
and Nikkie had a mind to slap her as well.
“Get yo damn hands offa me,” Viola squealed.
“No, not until you and Nikkie talk this crazy mess out!”
“Natasha, we don’t need you to play mediator,” Nikkie yanked her arm from her
sister’s grip.
Elliott turned to Nikolas, said, “You ever been to the Hoopenlotten Club?”
“Nope. Thought I’d get to go somewhere, but… Ya know…” Nikolas responded
to Elliott by looking at the Washington women congregated together, arguing, name-
calling (silly goat after silly goat), and punching!
“You wanna go there sometime while you here? Maybe we could go tomorrow,”
Elliott said to him.
“Naw, that might be a bad time,” Nikolas responded.
“Why?”
“’Cause your wedding is that day, man,” Nikolas frowned at him after he spoke.
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Elliott stared at Nikolas, his face a bronze statue again, because of the shaded
designer glasses over his eyes. Nikkie watched them interact as Viola spewed “earth-
mother” bullshit, and Natasha just screamed, probably for the mere purpose of hearing
her own voice.
As inconspicuously as possible, Nikolas leaned over and whispered something to
Elliott. Nikkie couldn’t hear the whispered words being exchanged between the two,
because of the girls screaming around her.
“Shut up!” Nikkie screeched.
When the two brothers did stop whispering, they gave one another dap, and Elliott
took off his glasses, extended his arm and shook Nikolas’ hand. It looked so gentlemanly
and sophisticated. So much unfamiliarity from Nikolas, she thought, as she writhed with
anxiousness when she realized that that handshake was the first experience she’d had of
him acting like more than a grizzly truck driver.
The cackle of feminine voices drowned out, however, when the loud sound of an
explosion erupted from the kitchen.
“Mabel,” Viola began to panic, and was the first to rush out to the kitchen.
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Chapter Twenty
When the women rushed into the kitchen, Mabel was sitting on one of the chairs
at the table, her oxygen mask covered her face, and she inhaled and exhaled violently.
“What the hell is goin’ on?” Viola asked. She was already at Mabel’s side,
stroking her hair, and rubbing her shoulder at the same time.
“Quit rubbin’ all on me. You know I’on’t like that freaky shit,” Mabel said, lifting
her arm- a little too energetically for a woman in her late ‘70’s- and Viola’s hands went
flying in the air.
“The microwave,” Mabel huffed, and then placed her mask over her face again.
Viola slapped the back of Mabel’s neck and walked away from her in a hurried
strut and toward Nikolas. Nikkie stood on the other side of Nikolas, and when she spotted
her cousin, she gnarled, like some beast, at Viola and she didn’t mind the momentary
ugliness. She was damned if Viola would steal Nikolas after one night of lust.
“Back the fuck up,” Nikkie commanded to Viola.
Her cousin only smiled at the insult, tapped Nikolas’ shoulder gently and stood
next to Natasha. Elliott was at the entrance to the kitchen, the keys to his Mercedes in
hand.
Mabel took the mask from her face.
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“I need to talk to the girls ’bout some important shit. Ya’ll gotta leave,” Mabel
spoke strongly- for a woman puffing on an oxygen mask.
“I’m a girl. I can stay, can’t I?” Natasha asked in her usual whinny tone.
“No, you batty beaver,” this was Viola speaking. “Go take a couple estrogen pills
and come back.”
“What’s estrogen? I don’t take nothin’ I can’t spell…” Natasha spoke confidently,
but the wrinkle in her brow told otherwise.
“Oh, don’t do that,” Nikkie said to Natasha, “If you didn’t eat anything you
couldn’t spell, you’d be starvin’ Marvin right now.”
“I know that’s right,” Viola concurred.
“Oh, shut up, Harlot,” Nikkie snapped at Viola.
“Can somebody explain what happened to the microwave?” Nikolas asked, a little
impatience in his tone of voice.
Mabel removed her mask, said, “Some dumbass decided to buy a stove dinner
wit’ aluminum foil and put the sucka in the microwave with a fork in the middle of the
DAMN ALUMINUM PLATE!” Mabel began to scream. “She put that shit in mah
microwave!”
“Who?” Elliott and Nikolas asked her.
“The only dumb-ass in this room,” Mabel said.
Everyone looked at Natasha, nodded their heads, and a quiet hush fell over the
atmosphere.
“Who? Who’s the dumb-ass?” Natasha asked as everyone tried to ignore the
obvious tension between Nikkie and Viola and tried to tune Natasha’s voice out.
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“Well, I’m about to-” Elliott started to speak, but was cut off by an object
whizzing past him, inches away from his face.
The crash and sound of broken glass followed by another hush made the tension
build stronger in the room. Everyone eyed Natasha with confusion and uneasiness.
“You’re gonna sit right there and tell me why you’re carryin’ around a gun,”
Natasha demanded.
Elliott snatched the glasses from his face, sexy bedroom eyes peered at Natasha,
and Nikkie thought her own vagina exploded. She gasped for air and started to fan herself
with her limp hand. When she took a few steps backwards, toward the kitchen sink, she
bumped into someone. When she turned around there was Nikolas, a look of calm on his
face.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
She wanted to melt into his warmth. She wanted to have the same thing her sister
had. She wanted to feel the same joy of surrender to passion, to lust, to ego. She wanted
Elliott, more now, she thought, because of Nikolas’ affair with Viola.
“I’m okay,” she said, walking around him and near Aunt Mabel.
Silence, until Elliott decided to speak up for himself. “I didn’t get the gun for
myself, ‘Tasha. I got it for…” he took a tentative glance at Mabel. This, of course, caused
everyone else in the room to look at Mabel for an answer.
Mabel rolled her eyes, “Okay, you can tell ‘em,” she huffed.
“I got the gun for Mabel,” Elliott sighed after he spoke.
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Silence followed these few details into the secrets bubbling below Nikkie’s
awareness. She began to wonder to herself: Is Viola and Natasha involved with Mabel in
some scheme? Is Elliott in on some con that they’re all in on? Hell, is Nikolas involved?
“This must have something to do with that Calhoun family and them wantin’ to
kill you,” Viola practically screamed to Mabel.
“Hush yo’ mouth, big bas pussy!” Mabel hollered.
“Oh, sorry,” Viola said.
“What? Who’s tryin’ to kill who?” Natasha began to whine.
Nikkie saw the scene unfold in front of her eyes. All of these details began to
surface only two and a half hours before the wedding rehearsal. She thought to herself,
what in the hell are we supposed to resolve before that time? Then another question
popped into her head: Why am I more concerned about my sister’s wedding than her or
her husband?
“I thank you need to stop yellin’ and screamin’, especially at yo’ fiancé,” Viola
said to Natasha with her eyes closed, her head rolling on her neck.
“Shut up, Wide Legs!” Natasha said to Viola.
Viola gasped and gulped her words. She looked around the room, her cheeks
burning a dark red and said, “Your head is like an abandoned warehouse, you know?”
“How is that?” Natasha asked.
“Big as hell with nothin’ inside it…”
Nikkie rushed to Natasha’s side, touched her cautiously, in case she hadn’t cooled
down (her angry fits were dangerous, even from childhood). When Natasha felt her
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sister’s touch, she jumped slightly, and relaxed, knowing without looking that her big
sister was behind her.
“Why don’t you fellas give us ladies some time alone? Talk amongst yourselves
for awhile,” Nikkie spoke to Nikolas and Elliott with the softest tone she could.
“What’re we supposed to do?” Elliott asked Nikkie.
Mabel snatched the mask from her face and yelled, “Honey, dig up an indication
that we gives a fuck!”
Elliott’s face flinched, yet his bedroom eyes remained the same. They seemed to
call every woman in the room to him, or was it just Nikkie?
***
When the men left the house and Mabel told the girls to get comfortable, she put
on a pot of coffee. As she worked at the stove, she looked at the smoking brown and
black microwave and muttered to herself, “We gone hafta take this thang out tooda
curb.” Nikkie, Viola, and Natasha gave each other a knowing glance when Mabel
muttered those words. Mabel opened the kitchen windows to waft out the smoke. Viola
insisted that they go into the living room, but Mabel demanded they stay in the kitchen.
When Mabel was finished putting contents in pots and placing them on the
stove’s eyes and most of the smoke had cleared from the room. She sat down in her chair,
took a couple minutes to inhale into her mask, and when she removed it, her chin slightly
tilted upward, she said, “The beginning…”
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Flee
Spring 1969
Mabel stood at the front of the table, large oak wood, expensive, especially for a
poor nigger bitch from the south. Yes, Mabel knew she’d made it, and she made sure all
of the individuals seated at this large, expensive oak table understood it. With her salon
over on Byrne Road, in the Ousef Plaza, she could have had the meeting there, but she
wanted to show them what the American Dream could provide a person who worked hard
enough for it.
Garbed in a purple blouse, a black skirt, and mauve colored high-heeled pumps,
she gave the impression of pure royalty. She wore her hair naturally, in clean, tight
French-braids scaling down her back. Her tight lips, large eyes, and high cheekbones
made her look beautiful and militant simultaneously.
“Hello, people,” she spoke to them with confidence, and air of arrogance in her
tone of voice.
The table consisted of twelve bodies that Mabel referred to as “The Twelve
Disciples” or “The Twelve Pupils.” She never allowed any of them power to rule, unless
perhaps she was in the hospital… dying. The chances, however, of that happening were
slim, due to the wonderful protection that The Brothers provided her. Mabel made sure
she compensated them well, and they remained professional in return. If anyone tried to
intimidate her or the women she employed at the Salon in Ousef or the Cherry Red
House, which was really an upscale brothel, the Brothers would arrive within a few mere
minutes to eliminate any drama.
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Mabel, a slim woman with a light skin complexion and a stare that could make
Hitler grovel, cleared her throat and began to address the party waiting to hear her
opinions, instructions, or commands. She was a woman who rarely ever repeated herself,
so when she spoke everyone in the room listened. Doing the opposite could cause
possible deadly problems for anyone who chose to laugh and screw around instead of
thinking about “business.”
“It was so nice o’ you, Brother Harold, to come to the church and force those
dumbass fools to pay offering, but they don’t attend that particular church, and there’s
jus’ thangs you’re not supposed to do,” Mabel spoke to Brother Harold, a tall, dark skin
guy with grey eyes and small craters all in the skin on his face. He looked tough as stone,
and nobody, save for Mabel, approached him with anything but respect.
Brother Harold stood up, nodded to the rest of the individuals present and spoke
to Mabel, saying, “It’s more than just the church. These brothers need to start respecting
themselves and having pride in something.”
“How good is pride when you ain’t got shit?” Mabel asked him.
Brother Harold smiled at her, “Of course, I couldn’t persuade you of thinking like
a human-being.”
Mabel laughed out loud at his comment, said, “I’m one-hundred percent human-
being, that’s how and why I know how to survive. If I spent every waking moment
thinkin’ like you, tryin’ to save the plants and shit, we wouldn’t have this here operation
goin’ on.” Mabel stretched out her arms wide, began slowly shaking her head left then
right. “I’m the boss, Brother Harold. If I ain’t in mah right mind, how you think all this is
gone function?”
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This time, Alex spoke up, a young man with a tan complexion and sandy brown
hair. He looked like he had to have been eighteen years old, but his eyes seemed older.
Looking deep inside them, it was almost as if she could see the many years he’d seen
through them.
“You know, Miss Mabel, you could have someone else run things for awhile. It
wouldn’t hurt nothin’,” he said, to which the table of Twelve Pupils nodded their heads
and concurred with him. Mabel, on the other hand, stood strong, her face contained a
nasty scowl and she didn’t show any immediate reaction to his statement.
“Is that what you think?” Mabel asked.
He hesitated, looked around the table, as if getting permission to speak to Mabel,
and nodded his head. “Yes. Yes, it’s what I know, Ma’am.”
Mabel smiled. “You know how I feel ’bout people tryin’ to do mah job. I been
doin’ this fo’ seven years now. I don’t need no help,” she said. Then she looked at Alex,
something happening, her mind was piecing something together. Then she said, “You
know what? I have these new girls I’ve been tryin’ out. If you could get them into shape,
I’ll throw you a title.”
He frowned, said, “A title? Miss Mabel, you know I need money.”
The table of men fell silent again. This was the first time in six years that anyone-
especially a kid- boldly went against something that Mabel suggested and or ordered.
They all watched the young man. He stood tall, his head was held high as he thrust his
chest outward. He wasn’t arrogant, but he did have lot’s of integrity, and that was
something Mabel noticed the moment she had his mother killed for sleeping with her
husband and stealing money. Alex never cried about the situation once- at least not in
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front of her. Of course, Alex didn’t know about the hit put out on his mother, and
probably never would.
“You want mo’ than a title, huh?” Mabel began addressing the other men. “He
said he wants more than a title. Right now, his ass barely has money in his pocket.
Doesn’t know where his next meal’s coming from or where he’s gonna sleep, but he want
mo’ than a title!”
She walked over to him, got close to his face, had to step on her tip-toes to do
this, and eyed him like boxers do one another before touching gloves. Her head slightly
cocked to the side, she smiled and asked, “You ain’t got nothin’ to say, boy?”
Alex nodded his head timidly.
“Speak,” Mabel ordered.
He swallowed, looked around at the other men seated and gained courage, where
from? Mabel didn’t have a clue. This was something that made her adore him even more,
though she’d never admit it.
“Not tryin’ t’be disrespectful to you, Miss Mabel, but when did you take a title
over money?” he asked her. And there were a few men, hell-bent on causing problems,
because they chuckled at his comment. It’s as if they wanted to ruffle Mabel’s feathers.
She walked away from Alex, her hands casually on her hips as she approached the
large window located behind her chair. The view was remarkable. As the sun was starting
to fade from the sky her body centered in the large window cast her silhouette’s shadow
over the entire table and the men seated there.
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She could hear the gentlemen whispering to one another like little school girls and
she wanted to kick all of their asses out. Instead, she knew the best way to show them her
power and authority. They’d never second-guess what she was doing again.
“Okay Alex. You’ll take Maxwell’s position at the Postal office,” she said.
“What!” Maxwell, a six feet, three inches tall, two-hundred and ninety pound guy
stood to his feet. “What you talkin’ ’bout, Mabel? I’ve been watchin’ that spot for years
now,” he said.
Mabel bucked her eyes, “Well you ain’t no more, so get that ugly look offa yo’
face and start actin’ like a man, boy,” she hissed at him. With her stern voice, the power
and intensity behind it, Maxwell barely flinched in reaction.
Mabel knew he wasn’t afraid of her. What he was afraid of, however, were the
streets that Mabel pretended to take care of. Almost everyone in the city thought she was
legitimately running a beauty salon, so most of the "streets" would fight to the death for
her. This and this alone is the only reason Maxwell had not tried to take Mabel down
himself. Mabel knew this as well, and that’s why she always tagged him before he could
tag her.
Maxwell took a glance around the room, embarrassment written on his face in
every language known to man. He sat down, his pride withered somewhat, but his dignity
still in tact- at least that’s how he looked to Mabel.
A commotion outside of the office door caused Mabel to turn her attention away
from Maxwell. The noise was the sound of women talking, almost as if in an altercation.
Mabel took a quick look at Alex and said, “You can sit down, boy.” He sat down quickly,
uneasy by the expression on Mabel’s face.
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Suddenly, the office doors swung open and in walked two women. Both of them
looked to be in their earlier to mid twenties. They both had light skin complexions like
Mabel. One of them was tall, six feet, and the other was shorter, but tall nonetheless- five
feet eleven inches.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?” Mabel instantly barked.
The taller woman rushed to Mabel’s side, said, “We have to get out of here now,
Mabel!”
The urgency in her voice caused Mabel to pause for a moment, judging whether
her sister would try to play a meaningless joke on her. She studied her sibling, made sure
she knew exactly what to say before saying it.
“Why don’t you explain to me why we have to leave…” Mabel said and waited
for a response.
“I think they might be comin’ here. I ’on’t know if they mean no harm, but I
thank it’s best if you left outta here,” her sister said.
Mabel waved a hand at her, turned away, and said, “I ain’t worried about nobody.
I’ve never been scurred of nobody ’cept the IRS, and I ain’t got no problems wit’ them.
’Sides, the Brothers is lookin’ after us, we’re all good…” Mabel lowered her voice while
sending a piercing stare in the woman’s direction. “So I hope you interrupted this here
important meetin’ for a good damn reason.”
“Douglas Calhoun was driving down Jefferson Street. I saw him when I was
coming down Summit,” the woman said. “Mabel, I rushed all the way here to make sure I
got you out.”
Mabel laughed, “Get me out for what reason?”
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The woman hesitated, but for only a moment. Then she looked Mabel dead in the
eyes and said, “Someone told Douglas they saw you speaking with Karma Calhoun…
Mabel, people ’round here know what we do.”
The room fell silent, all the men at the table staring at Mabel, waiting for an
answer. Some of them hoped the woman might offer some new information that could
make them the next “chief” in charge, and Mabel definitely knew this. Growing up poor
in the south made Mabel who she was, and she wouldn’t run just because some joker had
a gun. She carried guns as well. Lots of them. She was determined to be ready when, and
if Douglas came her way.
“Alex, hand me my shot-gun from the other room,” Mabel spoke over her
shoulder.
Her sister grabbed Mabel’s shoulders, clutching tight, and almost screamed, “Are
you crazy?”
“Let go of me,” Mabel tried to wiggle free of her embrace.
“They have more than just a shot-gun, Mabel. They know about us. This has gone
on far too long and people fightin’ back.”
Mabel looked over her shoulder and at Alex, who was paralyzed with
anxiousness, fear, and excitement. She nodded her head at him, which was a non-verbal
exchange that meant, “Do as I say.” Alex bolted from his seat and into a room adjacent to
the office.
Mabel guided her attention- and everyone else in the room’s attention- back to the
woman holding her shoulders.
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“Rachel, do you honestly think Calhoun is stupid enough to run up on a nigga’s
territory?” Mabel asked her.
“I don’t give a damn what you think they’d do. Mabel, they’re after yo’ ass, and
you can stand here tryin’ to be like Grandpa, Mr. Big Bad Gangster, or you can bring yo’
ass on,” Rachel said.
It didn’t take Mabel very long to think about the choices. She nodded her head
ever so slightly and turned to face the Twelve Disciples. After releasing a long sigh, she
said, “I don’t know where we’re goin’. But for right now, let’s move to the ceremony.”
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Chapter Twenty-One
Present Day
Nikolas let the smooth sound of blues music waft in his ear like a woman’s perfume
when passing by. Though the intensity of it seemed strong, the after-effect caused a
feeling. He couldn’t bare to explain what the feeling was, but if he had to take a shot in
the dark, it would be: excitement.
While Nikolas didn’t have any personal issues or problems with Elliott, he knew
the man’s pull in the recording industry. With Elliott making hits for past and up-and-
coming artists, all Nikolas needed to do was go into the studio with one of his own
original tunes and he’d have a foot in the door for sure. To Nikolas, the women’s kicking
them out was the best thing for his career. Now he had the opportunity to sample his song
to the famous producer, Elliott himself.
The two sat at the bar in the Hootenlotten Club, a strip-joint filled to capacity with
naked women, some middle aged with stretch marks and cellulite, while the younger
females reined supreme with long legs, flat stomachs- rings sparkling inside of their
belly-buttons- and the most cash in their thongs. The air in the establishment reeked of
cigars, liquor and perspiration. Nikolas didn’t mind, however, because he saw these
precious few moments as “business time.”
“So how long you been knowing Natasha?” Nikolas asked Elliott, trying to spark
up conversation and get down to business. He was too anxious, and he loathed himself
for being so desperate, but the thought of driving miles home- with Nikkie- just to get
back on the road and drive a truck day in and day out drained any morsel of happiness he
desperately tried to cling to.
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Ignoring Nikolas’ question, Elliott slowly bobbed his head to the slow bluesy
music pumping from speakers drilled high into the ceiling. Occasionally, he’d sip on his
drink- had it nestled close to his chest even when he wasn’t drinking it- and let out a loud,
disgusting burp.
“Bartender,” Elliott’s voice slurred, “I want another Godfather.”
Nikolas, trying his hardest to remain cool around the industry “player” relaxed on
the stool, leaning over his small glass of Long Island Iced Tea (it was the only thing he
could afford).
With Elliott’s sunglasses on, it was difficult to tell what type of mood he was in,
so Nikolas had no ice-breaker to begin the conversation. After all, they’d been sitting at
the Hootenlotten for over twenty minutes with nothing to speak about. Whenever Nikolas
tried to bring up any subject, Elliott would continuously nod his head to the rhythm of
whatever music was playing and sip on his drink.
“What’s a Godfather?” he asked Elliott, but the bartender, a white guy about six
feet tall with what seemed like thousands of tattoos, and piercings in every visible hole in
his face, decided to answer for him.
“We use a sweet Italian liqueur. You may have heard of it, it’s called amaretto.”
“Never heard of it,” Nikolas said.
“You haven’t?” The bartender asked, a skeptical expression on his pale face.
“No, that’s why I’m in a bar drinking shots of Tequila and glasses of Long Island
Iced Tea,” Nikolas tried to control the level of sarcasm he directed at the man, but he was
buzzed and a tab bit frustrated waiting on Elliott to open up. At Mabel’s house, he
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seemed down-to-earth, willing to chat and possibly become friends. Now, with liquor
running through his system, Elliott was literally behaving like the statue he emulated.
“Anyway, smartass, you just mix the amaretto with the robust, hard flavors of a
smooth Scotch,” the bartender kissed the fingertips of his right hand like a chef and
gestured the okay symbol with his left hand, an accomplished looking grin on his face.
“So I guess you’re the Rachel Ray of alcoholic beverages?” Nikolas asked him,
and was surprised when Elliott pushed his glass away a couple of inches and began
laughing until he choked.
“Yeah, whatever,” the bartended said under his breath and then walked away.
Nikolas faced Elliott, wanted to see more than his profile, and said, “My, my, the
dead is finally resurrected.” He was more excited than he cared to admit, because Elliott
was finally interacting. “You and Jesus have a few things in common,” he added,
grinning from ear to ear.
Elliott smiled in return, said, “Why, ’cause we both can walk on water and not get
wet?”
“Naw, man, ’cause you ’bout as old as him,” Nikolas kidded. “Aren’t you about
thirty years older than me?”
Elliott laughed, remained spirited and playfully gave Nikolas a punch in the arm.
“You got jokes now, huh?” he said. To his question, Nikolas simply took a sip of his
Long Island Iced Tea and smiled. Things might pull through after all, he thought to
himself.
The bartender delivered Elliott’s Godfather drink and scurried off to sell poisoned
courage juice to someone else looking to escape from his or her problems, if only
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momentarily. Instead of chugging down his drink like Nikolas expected of him, he nursed
it, taking occasional sips as he stared at his reflection in the mirror on the other side of the
bar counter. Nikolas had no idea what was going on in Elliott’s mind, what was so
fascinating about Elliott’s physical-contemplation, and concluded that Natasha must be
bored shitless with his personality.
That left only two other reasons why she’d marry him: Sex and money.
After another ten minutes or so of listening to that depressing blues music,
Nikolas had had enough. Yes, he wanted an opportunity to pitch his material, but he
wasn’t going to sit at a bar in a strip club for hours all for nothing.
A tad upset and disappointed, Nikolas threw a wrinkled five-dollar bill on the bar
counter and slid off of his stool. He stretched, took another sip of his Long Island Iced
Tea, and embraced the buzz coming strong from all those liquors he drank.
Elliott made a slight turn of his head, in Nikolas’ direction and asked, “Where’re
you goin’?”
“Back to Mabel’s. I gotta talk to somebody who knows what’s going on. Not a
guy who stares at his self in the mirror for almost thirty minutes.” Yanking his coat off
the stool next to him, he turned to exit.
“Shit,” Elliott said and laughed to himself, a slurred, intoxicated laugh. “If you
wanted to know what’s goin’ down, all you had t’ do was ask, brothah.”
Nikolas stood in place, his jacket slung around his arm, keys in hand, ready to
leave. He and Elliott drove separate vehicles to the club- that was Nikolas’ idea, in case
things didn’t go as planned. He was sad that his assumptions might have been right.
“Give me something quick,” Nikolas said.
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“What?”
“Say something to make me stay, brother. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I
came here for a wedding, not to co-star in The Godfather Part 4!” Nikolas all but
screamed.
“Calm down, brothah. Take a Zoloft and bust a nut or somethin’, you’re too
uptight for my style,” Elliott said.
“Something. Now.”
Elliott finished the rest of his Godfather drink in one gulp, his cheeks puffed out
like a squirrel with tons of nuts packed in its jaw. Swallowing very slowly (and making a
face that looked more painful than pushing out gallstones), he said, “Mabel might need
you. She’s in trouble.”
“I don’t know her, what does that have to do with me?”
“Mabel wants Nikkie to deliver something… If she doesn’t, man, we all might
end up dead…”
Nikolas returned his coat to the neighboring stool, sat down and yelled,
“Bartender, give me one of those Godfather things. It’s on him!”
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Trouble on the Way
Spring 1969
Mabel climbed in the CAR, her sister Rachel following behind in the back seat.
Alex, the young freckled faced chief of the postal officer position dashed around the car
in an almost trot-like skip, a small GUN hidden in his jacket.
The sun was set high and to the west, casting a slight red tone in the atmosphere.
The sounds of different music played in the distance from radios. Pedestrians, unaware of
the situation involving Mabel and her entourage enjoyed their Friday afternoon,
paychecks cashed, and children fed.
Maxwell climbed behind the wheel of the CAR, a scowl on his face. Mabel
checked her make-up in the rearview mirror on the passenger side of the car. She knew
that he was staring at her, through her peripheral vision she saw the quiver of his hands
gripping the steering wheel.
She liked to see this: a prideful, arrogant peon’s anger.
“Sugah, maybe I should drive us to the ceremony,” she said to him.
After sighing, he said, “What for? You know you don’t want to, Mabel.”
She slapped him in the face, it was quick and caused his head to smack backwards
into the driver side window. When Alex heard the thump of Maxwell’s head against the
glass, he reached inside of his COAT, his hand trembling as it clutched the small GUN.
Mabel could see this, because the young man wasn’t the least inconspicuous when
reaching for it.
Maxwell placed his hand on his cheek, the spot that began to look purple. With a
sigh, he smiled, took his hand from his cheek, and started the engine. Though his hand
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was heavy, the keys made no sound as he yanked the gear from park to drive. The big
body CAR jerked, and then they all were moving off and into traffic.
The entire drive to the ceremony was set to take about eight minutes, what with
the stoplights. However, Mable was sure that Maxwell could spot an easy reroute and get
them to their destination relatively on time. The entire ride, Mable watched him, the way
he was steering, and the directions he took. She was careful to keep him close to her so
that she could monitor him personally, because her enemies had to remain in sight. When
she couldn’t keep an eye on him, she had Brother John watching him. She liked watching
him, especially now, his anger. The purple of his cheek had gone down, but her
excitement was rising higher. She could feel something happening, and her sixth sense-
for lack of a better description- was screaming signals of caution.
“Where is Jae?” Mable asked. Her eyes planted on Maxwell.
“She’s already on her way to the ceremony,” Rachel exclaimed from the backseat.
“Brother Harold took her on a separate route.”
“Boy!” she called softly, looking at Maxwell.
“Yessim,” Alex yelped at Mable in reply.
“Roll.”
The car came to a slow stop at a red light. To the left of the car a group of people
mourned outside of a church, no doubt, Mabel thought, a funeral. What Mable noticed in
particular were three men dressed in silk button-down shirts: one in green, one in white,
and the last- and shortest- one in purple. They were Italian men mingled with what
looked like a funeral reception full of black folks.
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The back door swung open, and Alex rolled out as the traffic light changed to
green, and the car began to peel off into the flow of traffic. Like a ninja, he crouched, his
coat swaying behind him as he swerved in and out of moving traffic and onto the
sidewalk.
Rachel, fast as a lightning strike, reached over and slammed the door shut.
Mabel’s eyes remained locked on Maxwell the entire time he drove. Rachel casually
scooted over to her previous position in the backseat as if nothing out of the ordinary just
happened.
“Your gun is gone now, are you gonna keep actin’ like this, Mabel?” Maxwell
asked her, but his eyes were on the road ahead of him.
She laughed, shook her head, and looked forward. She would surprise him before
he could surprise her, as always.
“I’ve got a spare in the backseat.”
The sound of tension pierced the air, the sound that the element of surprise brings.
It was an uneasy shift of perception, it seemed to Mabel, and she knew she had caught
him off guard. He looked in the rearview mirror and spotted exactly what Mabel wanted
him to see: Rachel holding a tiny purse gun with both hands, nestled inconspicuously
near her right cheek, just for him to see.
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Chapter Twenty-Two
Present Day
“Did you hear that?” Viola asked.
“Shut up, Harlot, and let Aunt Mabel finish.” Nikkie scolded her cousin.
“I think I heard something to,” Natasha said.
Silence for a few moments, and then, “It’s the damn front door.”
Nikkie stood up, her knees popping, and her joints stiff. Mabel had talked for
about an hour, sharing the story of an underground empire her family owned. It was all
too surreal and outrageous to take in at once.
“Are you sure, Auntie Mabel?” Nikkie asked.
“Of course I’m sure,” she said with confidence. “I know my gotdamn house.”
Nikkie noticed that Mabel’s legs were very swollen, and her balance was off as
she sat on the uncomfortable chair. She wondered to herself, how in the hell can this
woman get away if these mobsters come after her? She can barely walk.
“I’ll get the door,” Nikkie said, and immediately left the kitchen. She was excited
to see who’d come to Mable’s house, and if they were there for the wedding. Things
seemed twisted in the last two days, and she was embarrassed to admit that she started
forgetting all about her sister’s wedding.
As she walked closer to the front door, she could distinctly hear banging. With the
screen door being closed, and the front door being made of a very thick wood that
muffled the sound.
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She opened the door, and on the other side of the screen door, there stood a
woman with a hot pink halter top and short white skirt on. Her superstar sunglasses
covered her eyes, and her beautiful skin shimmered in the afternoon sun.
“Yes?”
“Mabel, please,” the woman seemed to sing to Nikkie.
“Who are you?”
The woman took her hair and pulled it into a tight ponytail. The action lasted less
than three seconds, but Nikkie was still pissed because the woman had the nerve to make
her wait.
“Who are you?” she asked Nikkie.
In response, Nikkie slammed the door shut.
***
With the information that Elliott told Nikolas, he was sure a literary agent would
buy the story. He would never in a million years have thought Nikkie’s family could be
so ruthless, but then again, he’d dated her for years and seen the evilness first hand.
As he drove the Range Rover into Mable’s parking lot, he noticed that Elliott was
not in sight. When he’d turned from Bryne Road onto Dorr, Elliott was directly behind
him, but now, he was gone.
Suddenly, he began to laugh. He considered the male mind a complicated fit of
circuitry programmed to behave in reproductive manners. Or, put in Nikkie’s terms: men
are whores. The image that caused him to feel like a whore was the young, slim and trim
woman standing in front of Mabel’s front door with silky long, brown hair, and some
type of designer sunglasses on. His manhood began to rise instantly, and he smiled when
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he got a glimpse of her backside in that white skirt she donned. My, my, my, he thought,
girl’s looking like Sereena Williams in that short ass skirt! He looked at himself in the
mirror, noticed how sneaky his grin looked, and it turned him on.
“Hello,” he asked the woman after rolling down the passenger side window.
***
When Nikkie walked back to the kitchen, she was sure that Mabel and the other
two bimbos would question her on their visitor. She wanted to keep the woman in
shadow, never allowing any one of them to slip up and tell either Nikolas or Elliott about
her. Hell, she was having enough problems dealing with her cousin- her family- she
didn’t need any other chicks in her way.
As soon as she walked through the door, “Who is it?” Natasha asked.
As if she didn’t hear a word her sister said, Nikkie walked back to her seat,
delicately picked up her tea cup with an erect pinky finger, and began to sip.
“Chil’, ‘Tasha asked you a question,” Mabel said.
Viola attentively reached out to Nikkie, and daintily touched her hand. “What
happened?” she asked.
Nikkie snatched her hand away, began to fix her hair and pretend as if she was
never asked a question. She was hell bent on making sure to keep the woman a mystery.
She couldn’t possibly let Nikolas see that woman, she looked like the baby sister of
Natasha. She had a slutty look to herself, but an elegant swagger that baffled Nikkie.
“If you don’t tell me who was at my damn door…” Mabel said, waiting for an
answer.
“I thought it was somebody, but no one was out there.”
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“You lying scalawag!”
“Come on, Mabel,” Nikkie sighed, and tried to take another sip from her tea cup,
but Natasha grabbed her forearm, halting her movement. “What in the hell are you
doing?” Nikkie asked her sister.
Natasha shook her head ever so slightly, her eyes brimming with tears, and said,
“Please don’t do this. My wedding rehearsal is in less than an hour. Please, don’t spoil it
more than it already is.”
“You sayin’ this here is mah fault?” Mable asked.
“Well,” Natasha started cautiously, “This is supposed to be my special day, and
now we’re on the run from some killers.”
Viola smacked her lips, rolled her eyes, and exclaimed, “You are such a drama
queen, you know that?”
Natasha replied, “Go suck a Oscar Meijer!”
“Who was at mah front doo’?” Mabel asked again.
Before Nikkie could respond, the front door opened wide, the powerful rush of
cold air sweeping into the kitchen way from the front door. At first Nikkie was in a state
of shock, bewildered that the woman she’d left on the front porch actually let herself
inside of the house. This meant that she had to get ugly and set the chick straight. There
are just certain things you don’t do, Nikkie thought to herself.
She shot up out of the kitchen chair to make a mad dash to the front door and
intercept her when the kitchen door swung open and in walked Nikolas with that woman
by his side. Nothing had changed, she still sported the hot pink halter top, short white
skirt, sunglasses, and slutty demeanor, but something was different. Yes, Nikkie was
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upset to realize that something changed immensely. That woman was wearing Nikolas’
coat, snuggled up in it as if it belonged to her.
“Hey everybody,” he said with excitement.
The other women in the room- save for Viola- shifted in their seats, cleared their
throats, and pretended to be unbothered by the presence of another beautiful woman.
Nikkie wondered to herself why Viola seemed so unfazed and nonchalant about the
stranger standing in her aunt’s kitchen, and wearing her man’s coat nonetheless.
“This is Veniece Luxington,” Nikolas said to the room, who didn’t seem to be
paying him much attention. “Veniece says she was sent here by Sam to do some work for
Mabel.”
“Hi,” she said, cheerful and oblivious as to her “place” within the room. Her
demeanor was cool and relaxed, and Nikkie did not like that one single bit.
Then, in a childlike voice, Natasha leaned forward, her elbows rested on the
kitchen table as she asked, “Where is Elliott?”
“Mabel? You told Sam to send me?” the woman spoke to Nikkie, clearly
mistaken.
Nikkie looked at Mabel, said, “Lot’s of questions, huh, auntie? So, here’s another
one. Who is Sam?”
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Chapter Twenty-Three
Sam drove the navy blue BMW to the Shell gas station on XXX Street. He knew
that Mabel’s people would be heading through New Jersey soon, and he wanted
everything to be ready for them. His boss needed that necklace, and Sam didn’t want
anything else to slow them down. Sam was sure that the Calhoun family was planning
something. He’d heard many stories about them plotting their revenge on Mabel, and
Sam knew that their reasons for this could be numerous. Not only was Mabel a pimp, she
was also a drug dealer, liar, and killer.
Sam decided against leaving the car in the gas station parking lot, but rather in the
Dilbert’s Department Store parking lot. He would be sure to give Mabel the change in
plans.
When he got out of the car, Sam went inside of the department store to pick up a
few items for the task at hand. He eagerly hoped that Nikkie was ready for what was
going to happen. He didn’t remember meeting Viola or Natasha, but for some reason, he
remembered Nikkie from his childhood. It was a random summer day that she’d come
over Mabel’s house to visit for vacation. He was nine and she was three years old. The
two introduced themselves to one another, but Sam didn’t say much to her after that
moment.
Sam returned from the store with one large white department store bag. He
playfully let the bag bang, repeatedly, against his right leg as he walked back to the
BMW neatly parked next to some bushes at the back of the lot. He opened the trunk and
started to take the items out of the bag.
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Chapter Twenty-Four
“So, who is this Sam guy, Aunt Mabel?” Nikkie asked casually.
Shifting in her seat, ever so slowly, she then looked at Natasha and commanded,
“Stir the corn.”
Natasha sprang to her feet quickly and dashed over to the stove, smiling politely
at Veniece as she passed her. Nikkie saw her sister’s kind gesture and wanted to slap her
for it. Nobody knew anything about the woman who was sent from Sam, who Mabel was
trying not to talk about, and everybody was kissing her ass, Nikkie thought. None of this
was making sense to her.
“Sam is a nice guy who paid for my plane ticket here,” Venice spoke, her voice
strong and confident.
“Paid for your plane ticket from where?” Nikkie shot at her.
“New York,” Veniece exclaimed matter of fact like, “that’s where you guys are
going, right?”
Nikkie snickered, “I didn’t say I was going anywhere. So, where did you get your
information from?”
“Stop being such a Boston Terrier, and at least pretend to be polite,” Viola hissed
at Nikkie.
“I fo’ damn sure don’t look like a dog,” Nikkie said.
“But you’re acting like a bitch, so as far as I’m concerned, if one person calls you
a bitch, considering whether it’s a male or a female, you take off your earrings or kick
‘em in the balls. If another person calls you a bitch, you tell ‘em to kiss yo ass.”
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“Right on,” Aunt Mabel concurred.
“But if a third person calls you a bitch-” Viola began.
“Get a flee collar, Lassie,” Aunt Mabel said to Nikkie, a smile on her face.
Nikolas, Veniece, Natasha, and Viola all began to roar with laughter. No, their
ignorance and childishness wasn’t what caused Nikkie’s anger to rise steadily; it was the
closeness of Nikolas and that harlot looking chick, Veniece.
“I guess I do need a flee collar, huh?” Nikkie said with laughter. Everyone
happily joined in with her. She then sent Veniece and Viola a dangerous stare. “Because
a bitch like me has a lot of fleas climbing on her.”
The laughter stopped.
Natasha accidentally dropped the spoon she used to stir the fried corn. She picked
it up quickly, and as she turned to rinse it off, the kitchen door opened, and in walked
Elliott. Nikkie couldn’t help but pay attention to the way his bronze skin remained
smooth, and how his lips, a soft brown, were just plump enough, but not too large.
In just the half hour that she had not seen him he had changed into a grey sweater
vest, brown leather jacket, and dark jeans, with grey and brown colored boots.
“Hi,” Veniece said, taking a few steps from Nikolas toward Elliott, and it made
Nikkie even angrier.
“What’s good?” he asked her, extending his hand.
“Are you going to New York to?” she asked him.
Aunt Mabel slammed her hand on the table, again, and every one in the room
directed their attention to her. “What exactly did Sam say to you?” she asked the stranger.
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After looking offended for only a moment, she lifted her head, and said, “I
thought he would have given you the run down on everything before I got here.”
“Why are you here?” Nikkie asked her.
“To help you guys get to New York.”
“How are you going to help us do that?” Aunt Mabel asked.
A slight smile spread across her lips before she said, “To distract the hunter…”
Nikolas asked, “Okay, so who is this hunter, and what are they hunting?”
She walked back to Nikolas’ side, bringing Nikkie’s boiling point higher. “The
hunter could be a number of well trained professional assassins assigned the job of
hunting and killing you-”
“Oh, my God!” Natasha howled, and then covered her mouth with her hands, the
large stirring spoon still in her grip, seeming to protrude from her mouth.
“Of course, if your enemies are seeking information from you, the hunter will
knock out those vital to you in your immediate circle before kidnapping you and taking
you to the desired location,” Veniece said.
“What if all they want is information?” Nikolas asked. “Who’s to say they’d even
want to spare our lives until we get to some ‘location’. They might get what they need
and then kill us.”
“That’s very reassuring, Nik’las,” Nikkie scathingly said to him.
“I’m just bringing up a question. A question of how this petite woman can save us
from a professionally trained killer.”
Everyone paused, maybe stunned by the magnitude of what he’d just said.
129
Natasha tossed the spoon in the sink and ran to Elliott, who scooped her up in his
arms affectionately. Nikkie hoped to herself that Natasha wasn’t crying. She was such a
drama queen when she wanted to be.
“Glad you found your way back,” Nikolas said to Elliott.
Nikkie snapped her head in Nikolas’ direction, and asked, “Why’d you say that?”
He chuckled, cleared his throat, and stepped closer to Veniece, even put his arm
around her shoulder. Mabel looked at Nikkie with a questionable face. Viola smiled,
leaned into Nikolas, and Natasha was too busy giggling and whispering in Elliott’s ear to
notice a damn thing happening.
“Veniece, this man holding his fiancé is Elliott. His fiancé is Natasha
Washington. She’s the sister of Nikkie,” he pointed to his girlfriend, and she noticed that
he didn’t give her the title of his girlfriend when he rudely interrupted her question to
introduce them to one another.
“I’m sure you should have known Aunt Mabel,” he pointed to the old woman in
her seat, who looked pleasant and sweet.
“Hi, sugah,” Mabel said, short and quickly.
“You changed clothes,” Natasha said to Eliott aloud, for everyone to hear.
He let go of her, she sniffled, and pretended to still be in an emotional meltdown.
Sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, she wiped at her eyes, and hiccupped tears. Elliott
stroked her hair as he explained where he was.
“I was drinkin’ a little heavy at the Hootenlotten Club, felt a little sticky and oily
in dem clothes. You know a risin’ star like myself gotta stay fresh and clean at all times.
You okay, baby,” he stopped rubbing Natasha head, and leaned down to hear her answer.
130
She nodded her head meekly, and Elliott continued to explain, stroking his future
wife’s head. “I got down to Dorr and Bryne and saw a group of people standing outside.
Like a small get together with a few neighborhood friends or some shit- excuse the
language, Mrs. Washington,” he said.
“You’re excused, Mr. Pool, but mah husband and I is divorced, so I’s a miss and
not a misses. Alas- that’s a word that means-”
“I’m sure he knows what the word means, Auntie Mabel,” Nikkie interjected.
Giving Nikkie nothing more than a nasty look, she continued to speak to Elliott.
“Alas, my last name was changed from Washington to Moore, after mah sorry ass ex
husband’s last name, and I had to keep the motherfuckah because of legal purchases and
such. Property, investments… High credit scores. They’re all in Mabel Moore’s name
and not Mabel Washington.”
Silence.
“But you can call me, Auntie Mabel, sugah.”
“Well, Miss Mabel,” he said, neglecting to call her Auntie. “I saw a bunch of
people having a party, and I just… I dunno… It seemed weird.”
“You rappers sure can’t leave that paranoid ghetto shit in the ghetto, huh?” Nikkie
said sarcastically.
“Bitch,” Viola mumbled under her breath.
“White or black?”
“Excuse me, Miss Mabel?” Elliott said, taken aback.
“Was the people black or white?” she asked again.
“Black.”
131
Natasha began to giggle to herself as Elliott stroked her hair. Nikkie could have
sworn the girl looked clinically insane the way she laughed to herself and for no
particular reason. “Babe,” she called to Elliott. He leaned down to place her mouth within
earshot, and she whispered, “You see black people…”
Smiling, only for a moment, Elliott responded, “How often?”
“All the time,” Natasha finished, busting out into a fit of laughs.
“So,” Elliott continued to speak, almost ignoring his fiancé as quickly as he
offered her attention, “I saw three white dudes. Looked like they was in the crowd of
people, but something looked a little off about it.”
“What they have on?” Mabel asked.
“What’s with all the questions, Aunt Mabel?” Nikkie asked. “What do you know
about that you’re not telling?”
“They had on regular clothes,” Elliott answered.
“Shut up,” Mabel commanded Nikkie.
“You shut up,” Nikkie hissed in return.
“What’s so ‘off’ about regular clothes?” Viola asked Elliott.
He hesitated, as if trying to piece together all of the images and sounds he
experienced. His brow wrinkled with the uncertainty of a man lost in some timeframe
impossible to penetrate. Nikkie could tell that he was trying desperately to remember
what happened, though she knew an hour spent in a bar with lots of liquor helps to gnaw
away at memory cells.
“Well… One of the guys had on a surgical mask. Thing that looked funny about it
was it was red.”
132
“The surgical mask was red?” Viola asked.
Mabel answered Viola, saying, “Red as fresh blood.” The room of people took a
tentative glance at Mabel, wondering where all the questions and secrets were leading.
With the wedding rehearsal in less than an hour, something needed to be decided, and
quick.
“How do you know that, Mabel?” Nikolas asked.
“We hafta go… now!” Mabel said, reaching for one of the other chairs to hoist
herself up on her feet. The moment Mabel began to move, a commotion began to arise
within the kitchen. Someone started asking a million questions, and the others were
complaining while Mabel continued to stand up, gather her balance, take her walker and
high-tell it out of the kitchen.
133
Code Red
Spring, 1968
Alex ran with all of his might, his jacket swaying behind him, the gun
uncomfortably tucked in his pants and poking his stomach. He knew the code word for
many a different plays from the Playbook.
The Playbook was similar to the kind football teams utilize, with a list of different
plays, or codes associated with various actions. The designs of the plays were to throw
off the “enemy." Mabel always said, “Intercept or crush them!”
He had to call the ceremony as soon as possible. Alex knew he needed to find a
payphone, and quickly, but he couldn’t escape the image of those three Italians at the
funeral. Of course, Alex knew there were Blacks and Italians who didn’t mind mingling
together, but those guys were dressed in colorful shirts and all of the mourners around
them were dressed in all black. Some of them were sneaking glances at the three men as
if they didn’t even know who they were. This made Alex feel uneasy, and he didn’t mean
to go against Mabel’s wishes, but he had to find out who those men were.
He ran back to the church that he’d seen the men at, nervousness surrounding his
existence, because in his heart, he knew something didn’t sit well. He perspired, and
couldn’t for the life of himself figure out why.
He approached the back entrance to the church, and could hear many of the
mourners chatting, talking about the burial and other death-related issues. He couldn’t see
anyone, because they were at the front of the church preparing to load into their vehicles
and head to the cemetery.
134
Alex wandered around the lawn of the church’s backyard with a piercing
paranoia. Something just didn’t seem to sit right with the entire situation. Time was
ticking, and he knew he needed to call Brother Harold, at least, to let him know Mabel
decided to call a “play” before a ceremony meeting.
His head held low, and his eyes focused on the ground, Alex saw a piece of paper.
It was yellowing, but not old, typed lettering printed across it, in the center for Alex to
read without even picking up the paper:
Blow nigger brick: 5:40PM. The Meerkat will be at Ousef
Plaza around 5:47PM. The Snake leaves and then execute.
In the right hand corner of the yellowing paper was the name of a company that
Alex figured would be a good thing to remember. The name was Calhoun Kingdom.
Never slowing down his pace, Alex ran with all of his might to the intersection of
Dorr and Secor Street. The Ousef Plaza was just a block away, and traffic slowly
hummed past one another. Hulking pieces of transferrable metal mixed seamlessly,
blinding Alex’s view of Mabel, Maxwell, Rachel, and the car.
Something just didn’t seem right.
Through huffing and puffing, Alex turned back to face the church on Underwood
Avenue to witness a great explosion in the back of the church. A medium-sized ball of
flames wisped towards the sky, sending black smoke into the wind. Screams shattered
Alex’s perception, and brought him back to reality.
Mourners were now running for their lives away from the church, the smoke, and
the fire. A rumbling sound began to crescendo from the flames in the back of the church,
and soon, another explosion. The back of the church broke apart, bricks, and burning
wood flying in the air, and falling to the ground hard.
135
The traffic started to slow, car horns honked, people yelled, and Alex surveyed
the scene, looking for the CAR.
Something just didn’t seem right.
“Where am I going?” Alex asked himself in a whisper. He had no clue as to what
was going on or how to solve it. He prided himself in being swift on his feet, quick-
witted, and ruthless when it came to business. Those Italian men and the church
exploding were so unexpected; none of this was making any sense.
Making a snap decision, Alex immediately thought of Mabel. Something was
nagging at him, and he felt as though she was in grave danger. It was time to either act or
wait, and waiting could risk causing more problems during the interleaves between
suspense and violent action.
Alex began running through the intersection, towards the Ousef Plaza, and far
away from the burning church.
***
When Alex approached the ceremony, the time was 5:45 in the evening. He kept
replaying the words on the yellowing paper in his head repeatedly. With only two
minutes before something happened, he was sure the meerkat in the note was in reference
to Mabel. He knew without any doubt that Maxwell was the snake. The only questions
that left him plagued with anxiousness was, how will they execute, and who will be doing
it?
He ran back to the intersection, where he was when the explosion occurred. The
church was on the other side of the street, still burning, the smell of smoldering wood,
and holiness rose from the top of the edifice, sending blackness into the cool pale sky.
136
Alex turned, and spotted the CAR traveling down Secor Avenue. The car wobbled
from side to side, uneasily. He couldn’t see who all was in the car, from his distance. He
knew that it was heading to the ceremony drop-off spot. He knew that whoever would
ambush her would successfully achieve their task. However, the sexy, fair-skinned
woman with hot red gloves, and an even hotter red of high heel pumps caught his
attention. She was walking away from him, her backside swaying left and right in an
almost hypnotic rhythm, calling him to her.
He shook the lust away, tried to remain responsible, and headed up the small hill
that ran alongside the sidewalk on Secor Street. The only signs of life on the street was a
bus stop surrounded by about six women, and nine fellas, Alex thought.
He ran up and over the small hill and continued looking at the group of people at
the bus stop. They looked like a congregation of pimps and hoes, but their attitudes
looked far more casual. Besides, Alex thought, no one had caught the bus there in years.
He didn’t even know if the local bus station sent buses to the area any longer.
Yes, he thought, something is wrong.
***
It seemed to Dee as if the sun had moved in the shop, that’s how hot she was, and it was
only spring time. She knew that she would have to brace herself for the scolding hot
summer ahead of her, but that didn’t matter at the moment. She still had to flat iron Miss
Jenkins' hair, and then head to the Municipal Court to pick up one of the girls who works
at the shop. The bitch was caught screwing a John in a restaurant over in Perrysberg.
Could she have been any dumber?
137
“Why do you insist on gettin yo muhfuckin hair wet and then want mah ass to
comb through the shit?” Dee asked Miss Jenkins.
A woman, barely holding herself up in the chair, and looked to be no less than 80
years of age, stared at Dee liked she’d lost her mind. She cleared her throat, looked so
innocent, and it made Dee want to smack her ass.
“If I’m paying you, child, it shouldn’t matter,” Miss Jenkins said, her frail body
almost trembling in the salon chair as she held herself up.
“You jive ass grandma,” Dee shouted. “You keep comin here, because you’ve
been eavesdropping, takin the shit you hear and goin to Pinky’s Paradise.”
“No,” Miss Jenkins said, in a matter of fact manner.
“Miss Jenkins is a true hustler,” a random girl said, a big, bright smile on her face.
Dee spun around, piercing the girl with an icy stare as she said, “Get the fuck
outta mah shop.”
“This here Mabel’s shop,” the girl replied. “So I don’t think you should-”
Dee drowned the woman’s voice out, and turned around to face Miss Jenkins
again. “You keep coming here and gettin a cheap ass wash and straightening, but listenin
to these chicks gossip and selling the stories to Pinky’s hair salon for the good hairdos.”
“You crazy, child.”
“No, it’s you who’s crazy thankin you can get a free ride! So, take yo old ass
outta mah shop!” Dee yelled.
“Leave the po’ lady alone,” the girl whined. To Dee’s shock and horror, the girl
had picked up a nearby magazine, and was flipping through the pages.
138
“I thought I told yo mouthin ass to get the hell outta mah shop!” she barked at the
woman.
A juvenile sneer on the woman’s face, she took a slow, deep breath, and then, in a
seething voice, said, “You the sister, you ain’t the owner. This here is Mabel’s shop. I’m
waiting on Mabel.”
Quick as a flash, Dee was holding a purse gun, her boney finger experienced with
hovering slightly over the trigger. The few other women in the shop gasped and screamed
while the woman continued to sit, her legs crossed, flipping through the pages of the
magazine.
Pop!
The sound of a bullet’s discharge
Zing, Zing
and the reverberation of ricocheted metal screeched through the shop, and many
of the women fell to the ground, some even ran out of the front door. The woman, who
was previously flipping through the magazine, was slumped in the chair, and gripping the
armrests with white knuckles, the magazine now lifeless and on the ground. Luckily, for
her, Dee meant to shoot the wall behind her, and nothing else.
Ting, Ting
The bell above the shop’s door tinkled as Alex came rushing inside. His fair-
skinned face flushed a bright red color. The breeze that rushed in behind him alarmed
Dee of just how chilly it was outside during springtime.
“We need to call a code red!” Alex huffed, and then glanced at Miss Jenkins,
who’s back was plastered against the salon chair.
139
Dee turned all of her attention to Alex and asked, “Are you sure about this?” He
nodded his head and turned out of the shop just as quickly as he had come in.
Forgetting about the women in the shop, and the authoritative regulation she was
going to display, she walked into another section of the salon. In the far corner of the
particular room sat a phone surrounded by glass, atop of pedestal. The phone in the glass
case was fire red, and, to Dee’s astonishment, had cobwebs collecting on it.
Picking up the phone, ever so gently, she waited a few brief moments, and then
softly said, “We need to call a code red… Right now…”
***
When Alex made it back outside, he could see the crowd of people still standing
at the bus stop. While he could no longer see the CAR, he knew that it was still on it’s
way to the drop-off point, and he didn’t want to see that happen.
He was going to run around the building and try warning Mabel about what he
thought was going on, but then he noticed the woman in red still walking down the street.
It was something so enticing about her, he had to find out what she was doing. He ran
back over the hill, and reached the street where the woman sauntered. Her hips had sway,
it was all so hypnotizing that he couldn’t think straight.
“Follow her,” something seemed to whisper to him in his mind.
As he started to trail behind her, he noticed that a man was on the other side of the
street. Dressed in all black, a Kangol hat snuggly fitted on his head, he walked swiftly,
but Alex couldn’t get the man out of his mind.
140
Shifting his attention from the man in all black to the woman in red, he knew that
they were very important figures participating in what was about to happen involving
Mabel.
The woman was walking down the abandoned street away from the explosion,
while the man in all black headed toward all of the commotion, yet his gaze remained on
the woman. Maybe he needed to feel like a hero (God knows what other motives he had),
but Alex decided to trail a few feet behind the woman to see where she was headed, and
if the man was going to segway towards her destination.
He tried to stay out of sight, not making himself seen by the man in all black. The
view of the pimps and hoes at the abandoned bus stop still held a vital place in his
observation. The woman in red seemed oblivious to the man across the street who eyed
her like a hungry vulture.
And just when Alex figured he should get back to details regarding the Play he
and Dee just called, the man in black crossed the street, his eyes piecing the woman’s
frame.
The crowd of people at the bus stop began to talk louder, not seeming to pay any
attention to the man and woman, or Alex. He knew that they weren’t just standing there
to chit-chat, but to fulfill some order. Alex figured that the order had something to do
with the yellowing note he found in the back of the church before it went up in flames.
Speeding up more, Alex could tell that the man in black’s pacing quickened.
Whatever it is the man wanted from the woman, he wasn’t going to wait too much longer.
In turn, Alex began to skip-run in order to get closer to her.
141
The crowd of people at the bus stop started leaving Alex’s eyesight and he knew
he couldn’t be in two places at once. He stopped and kept an eye on the bus stop and an
eye on the woman in red. She stopped dead in her tracks, before slowly turning around to
face the man who started walking toward her faster.
Just as Alex began preparing himself to yell a warning at her, he heard the loud,
blaring sound of open gunfire.
***
Falling to the ground, he could only hear the popping sound of gunshots, and not just one,
but many. Picking his face up from the ground, he saw that the woman in red and the man
in black were having a struggle. He couldn’t tell if the man was strangling her, of if she
was wrestling with him. Nothing seemed to make sense.
***
Another sound, an explosion, and Alex took a deep breath, deciding that hiding on the
ground with his face buried in the sand wasn’t his style. He climbed to his feet and began
running away from the shots firing. He
142
330-546-0325 Vincent Carrington
Darryle.johnson@gmail.com
143
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God Bless These Biscuits (First Draft)

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God Bless These Biscuits (First Draft)

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God, Bless These Biscuits Thierry J.

Once upon a time…

talk,” Nikkie said to him, but looked out her window.

length hair with her French-tip manicured nails.

was sixty miles per hour. He was doing eighty.

and looked at him.

for little over five years.

“No,” was his quick response.

“I said something wrong.”

shepherd in search of blood.

her eyes still seemed vacant to him.

holiest of holies like a cheap bullride in some filthy bar?”

“You be a maverick with words, babe,” he said to her.

dozens of other chicks you’ve dated… or just slept with.”

She gasped, “I’m not on my period!”

question her fidelity.

don’t bleed, so I wouldn’t exactly know.”

“My name is-”

reacted, but her mind stayed in some distant perception.

hard time adjusting to you after so long, that’s all.”

years. We only broke up for what? Two months?”

arrived at Mabel Miles’ house and were finished unpacking.

all of his things, and left her the hell alone.

It was a no-brainer, thought Nikkie.

hats, hugging their own arms for warmth.

Nikolas before adding, “This is Nikolas Adam.”

the back of her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said.

“Nikolas,” Nikkie whined at him, embarrassed by his behavior.

“No, my name is Nikolas Adam. Only one S in my name,” he said.

“Well I’ll be a damned whore or judgment day,” Mabel said.

“Nikolas, this is my aunt Mabel,” Nikkie finished her introductions. “I don’t

wafted past both Nikkie and Nikolas’ noses.

and into her large living room on her cane.

“Heart-attack?” Nikolas asked with concern.

“Oh, don’t listen to a word of what I just said, honey.”

movements until the three of them reached the kitchen.

bounce uncontrollably underneath the muumuu she wore.

kitchen floor, and sent shivers up and down Nikkie’s spine.

those last words with perfect diction and enunciation.

their most difficult moment.

“What?” Nikkie asked.

“Doesn’t eat meat?”

same time he spoke.

pressed tightly against her neck.

and chitterlings, so…”

that Mabel didn’t hear him.

bother her as much.

“Do you hear me, Chil’?” she asked again.

tension. She’d talk to Aunt Mabel about it more in depth later.

look of ease in his face, and exhaled with a smile.

“Smells wonderful,” he said to Mabel.

thrown across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“Who else is here, Aunt Mabel?” she asked.

hands on her muumuu several times, and looked at Nikolas.

that particular moment.

“It’s okay, Nik’las,” she playfully tapped him on the shoulder.

and wisped out of the kitchen.

of the chairs, her walking cane rested against the table.

her the oxygen mask.

seventies, though who might tell the difference?

“Auntie!” Nikkie all but shouted.

loading the luggage upstairs, Nikkie and I’ll be finished.”

fetch shit as if he was a doberman pinscher.

neglected the upstairs.