LOURDES
When I opened the bathroom door, and dropped the towel to my feet, I submerged myself in a cloud of steam. Slowly, I eased into the tub and allowed the warm water to relax me. The clear water was now pink, tinted with my blood.
I removed fragments of glass from my face and the wound where the bullet grazed my arm was throbbing. I was in the worst pain I had ever experienced in my lifetime.
I still didn’t understand what happened. How did I get there? One minute, I'm in the basement of the school witnessing a murder, and the next I’m witnessing many more deaths at the hands of the man who was charged with protecting me.
With all of the questions looming over my head, what I wanted to know the most was who was Jamal? When we were at the home, I saw him murder people like they were targets in a video game. Like their lives were unimportant and they didn’t matter.
I had no idea earlier today, as I stood in Jamal's doorway preparing to apologize for crying in front of him, that it would end in me being pushed into a metal rainstorm that would alter my body, and give me a brush with death.
When the water was so cold my fingers and toes wrinkled, I rose from the tub, and tied a hand towel around the wound on my arm. Afterwards, I slipped back into my bloody miniskirt and top, and wiped my hand over the foggy mirror. I took a moment to observe my face.
Part of me wanted to cry when I saw the scars but the other part wanted to cry because of the horrors I witnessed today. Instead, I took a deep breath and made a new decision. I would never cry again, for anyone, or anything.
After putting makeup on my face, using my products, I opened the bathroom door. All of the lights were out but the moon offered a little light. In the bed closest to the window, I saw Jamal lying sideways. His body was faced the window and even though I was scared of him, I couldn’t help but feel that he was not the monster he was made to be.
I switched on the lamp and the muscles on his back twitched. His body appeared to shine against the dim lamp, which sat between the twin beds. Why did he move me so?
There is a horrible misconception that prostitutes love sex. I hate it. I detached when I pleased my customers. I thought about other things or other places so that I wasn’t sharing the moment with them. It was the most disgusting thing I had to do in my life.
When I took one more step, I eyed Jamal’s body again. He probably had a million women at his beck and call. Men like him didn’t wife girls like me; they bought and threw me away after I’d made them cum. I didn’t mind anymore, I guess. I was starting to believe that I was born to please.
My mind wandered even further until I remembered the man whose head Jamal tore into like a watermelon. I shivered. He had experience with death and I knew it. As angry as I was about almost losing my life, he’d saved me. And since I didn’t know where I was, or who I could trust in Baltimore, I figured I had to thank him properly. I wanted him to know how grateful I was that he didn't leave me, so that he'd continue to protect me. After all, going back to Texas was not an option anymore. If I went back, Holliday would kill me, I was certain.
Slowly, I walked toward his bed. The rough bristles on the brown carpet brushed against my bare feet. I could feel the pulse of my heartbeat quickening. Why was I nervous to do the one thing in my life I'd always been good at?
I removed my skirt and shirt and they fell softly at my ankles. Naked and afraid, I slid behind his body. My breasts pressed against his back and my hips rubbed against his jeans. Why did I feel ashamed? As I moved closer to him, he never turned around to face me.
"What are you doing?" He asked flatly, his voice vibrating throughout my soul.
I kissed him on the shoulder, and softly rubbed his arm. "Thanking you for everything you've done for me. For saving my life.” My nipples hardened against his back and I felt him shudder.
"So this is what you do?" His stern voice caused my hand to stiffen. "This is how you move in the world?"
I removed my hand. "What do you mean?"
"You have sex with men just to get them to do what you want? Just to manipulate them into feeling something for you? Do you really think that makes you powerful?"
"No…I...I just wanted—”
"To buy me with your body," he yelled. "Is that what you wanted to do, Lourdes?"
Humiliated, I eased out of his bed, snatched my clothes off of the floor and jumped into my bed. I pulled the rough sheets up to my neck and focused on his back. "I didn’t mean to offend you, Jamal."
“Preacher. I go by Preacher.”
I shook my head. “That explains everything.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his back still in my direction.
“It’s the oldest story in the book. The man wants to do right but he is tempted by Eve, the evil woman who is thinking only of herself.”
“So you are a whore?”
I wasn’t sure but I had a feeling that he wanted me to hate him. I could feel the tears brewing under my eyelids but I made myself a promise to never cry again. "I wasn’t trying to seduce you, Preacher. All I wanted was to say thank you. You didn’t have to hurt my feelings. "
"Lourdes, you’re funny to me," he chuckled lightly. "You want to play the victim when you’re the one who has control over your life. Does the sad little girl routine work for everybody else? Because it's dead to me."
My eyebrows drew together. "I don't think I'm the victim. I just thought that if you kept me with you, you must want something from me. I thought you wanted—"
"To fuck?"
"It's all I have to offer." I brought the sheets closer to my neck. "Isn’t that what you want? My body?"
As his back remained in my direction, I wondered what he was thinking about. Was it me? Was it the men who were trying to kill us? Or the ones he killed? Why did he seem sad and disconnected?
"Jamal, are you going to say something?"
"I'm done talking, Lourdes. And even if I did want to hold a conversation, it wouldn’t be with you."
Suddenly, I was filled with anger. Who was he to judge me or point fingers in my direction? He knew nothing about who I was, or what I had to deal with in my life. If he didn’t want to take care of me and prevent Holliday from trying to kill me, then I guessed I'd have to take care of myself. Maybe find a way to make it back to home, change my hair and start all over. Maybe Holliday wouldn’t notice me.
So I got out of bed and slid into my clothes.
"Where you going?" he asked.
When I focused on him, he was staring in my direction. There was something about how he looked at me that gave me butterflies and I despised myself for having emotions for him.
"If you don't want to help me, Jamal," I slid into my shoes, "then you don't have to. I'm able to take care of myself, you know?"
"If you walk out that door, I'm done with you." He sat up. "I'm not chasing you, Lourdes. I got enough problems of my own and I don't need this shit right now. Do you hear what I'm telling you?"
"If I leave trust me, you won’t have to worry about me.” I grabbed my briefcase. "I've taken care of myself all my life and I don't need your sympathy."
"You do this all the time don't you? When you don't get your way you run, instead of standing up and facing your issues."
"Again, you know nothing about me. You're just like everybody else. Always jumping to conclusions."
"So am I wrong for thinking you were just about to fuck me? Huh?"
I rushed toward him. All of my life I tried to avoid violence, believing it was wrong like my mother always told me. But I wanted to cause him pain like what I was feeling right now. Who was he to get into my head, and make me feel this way? So I pulled my hand back and smacked him as hard as I could in the face.
"You are an evil, bitter person and I'm so glad to get away from you," I said as I stormed out of the room, leaving him alone.
****
IN FRONT OF THE HOUSE ON BELAIR ROAD
"Holliday, I'm in Baltimore," Victor said on his cell phone as he sat a block away from a major crime scene in a rental car. "Police cars are out here everywhere, man. It looks serious."
Holliday sighed. "So I take it Lourdes is not there."
"I been looking at the scene all night and everybody who lives there–well everybody who’s alive, anyway—was brought out and questioned by the police. The only people in that house right now are the cops. Whoever the nigga is who came out of that house blasting is dangerous, and he might pose a problem. A lot of niggas died out here tonight trying to get at him."
"How do you know they didn't get him?"
"I paid a kid to give me the full play about an hour ago. Apparently the dude’s name is Jamal and he goes by Preacher. Dude said he left that house with enough firepower to start a war. The kid said he got away with some bad ass redbone."
Holliday gritted his teeth and Victor heard it over the phone. "It was Lourdes?"
"I think so, man."
Silence.
"I don't care what you have to do, bring me that disloyal ass bitch! She can’t testify in court against my daughter. She's the only person who witnessed the crime and I need her alive."
"Say no more, Holliday. My men and me will tear down Baltimore until we find her. That you can be sure of."