Chapter Eighteen
The Here and The Now . . .
“I can’t take this anymore. I’m done. I’m done. I swear for God I’m done. I’m not dealing with you or your nonsense anymore. We through.” Keisha tried to break loose but couldn’t. “I’m better than this. I’m better than you and everything you stand for, which is nothing!”
“Shit, you tired? I’m tired of your damn mouth that never stops running,” Rico hissed, bending her back over the dresser as Kilo, tongue hanging out to the side, looked on. “I was gonna wait until April when you get them taxes back to stop dealing with your simple ass, but naw, I’m good. After this last hot nut in your back hole, trust me, I’m the one done. You can bounce. You can take your nasty ass back to your funny-looking mother and that wanna-be boss father of yours. You worn out anyway. I got another upgraded model begging to take your place. She’s slim, fat ass, and pretty as fuck in the face. I definitely gonna be glad to see you leave.”
Who in the hell does he think he is? No matter how much of his ruthless and rotten garbage I accept, he always goes one step beyond that. Nothing he says or does shocks me anymore. He has no home training and it shows. But now he is gonna feel my wrath.
Reaching her hand out for the can of oil sheen that was knocked over on the dresser, Keisha was fed up. She’d had enough of Rico’s Dexter-Linwood area mentality and everything that went with it.
“Look, don’t say anything about my parents. If you weren’t so jacked-up in the head, you’d realize you just messed up the best thing that’s ever going to happen to you: me.”
She suddenly twisted her body around, and Rico was left with his wet, shitty dick sticking straight out in the air. In the same movement, Keisha aimed the oil sheen directly at his face. Before Rico could prevent it, she sprayed the chemical-based mist directly into his eyes.
“Urgggg!” he screamed out, pressing both hands to his face. “Keisha, I’m gonna kill you. I promise, you done really messed up this time. I’ma stump the blood outta your ass.”
“I hate you, Rico. I hate you and everything about you. You ain’t worth a female like me, and I was mad stupid for allowing this to go on this long.” Keisha reached for an oversized bottle of perfume, and like she’d done with the statue, slammed it down across the rear of Rico’s head. Seeing him being dazed and temporarily blind, she seized the opportunity. Wasting no time, she grabbed her purse then shoes as he struggled to make it to the bathroom.
As she attempted to run by him and out the front door, Rico snatched a hold of her blouse, ripping the sleeve.
“Noooo! Get your freaking hands off me!” Raising her bare foot, Keisha kicked him square in the nuts. Knocking over a chair, she bolted toward the door as Kilo continued to bark.
“You done lost your mind, you stankin’-pussy slut. I’m gonna fuck you up. On everything I love, I swear to God you dead.” Doubled over, with his shorts down to his ankles, he fell to the ground. Still a trooper, Rico made it to the sink, splashing handfuls of water up to his burning eyes. With the water still running, he got a washcloth and pressed it to the small gash on his head.
When I catch up to Keisha, I’ma make her pay for all this.
* * *
At five twenty-six in the morning, the crackhead zombies had just gone in after prowling all night. The few working people in the nearly deserted neighborhood had yet to leave their homes. It was one of those kinda-quiet-in-the-hood times before the total evil of darkness turned to partial good of daybreak. Keisha took full advantage of the time, cutting through vacant lots without anyone seeing her. With every barefooted step Keisha took, she swiftly realized she had nowhere to go. Since dealing with Rico, she’d cut everyone off. Not bothering to take the time to put her shoes on, she felt the soles of her feet getting small cuts and abrasions. But that didn’t matter. At this point, she’d cut off both her feet and hands if that meant being away from that monster.
Seeing the neon light from the Coney Island Restaurant flashing, Keisha headed in that direction. Glancing over her shoulder, she prayed Rico wouldn’t find her before she at least flagged a cab. Looking a hot ghetto mess, Keisha finally entered the deserted building.
“Oh my God! What has happened to you?” Sam, the Arab owner, knew Keisha well enough to know something drastic had taken place. Every morning, he’d have her large cup of coffee, two sugars and two creams, waiting because she always seemed to be running late. In his eyes, Keisha wasn’t like the other hood customers he’d encounter daily. She had a good education and surprisingly knew a great deal about his Middle Eastern culture.
The only thing Sam found puzzling was why Keisha kept company with a man as uncouth as Rico. He would see him parade all sorts of random females around when his “wifey” was at work. The evening before, he’d just seen him hop into a sports car with some young female. He’d also hear Rico talk about his woman like a piece of trash to all his friends. Shamefully, Sam had also seen nude pictures of Keisha, as well as the infamous dog video on Rico’s cell phone.
“Sam! Sam! Please help me!” With shoes, purse, and a dead cell phone in her hands, she acted as if a monster were chasing her. And in her eyes, there was. Hysterical, Keisha broke down in tears. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she had to get out of the neighborhood and away from Rico. “Sam, can you please call me a cab? Please hurry!”
“What is wrong, Ms. Keisha? Were you robbed? Why don’t you have your shoes on?” Sam, having a soft spot for her, took a chance unlocking the dead bolt on the bulletproof security door. “Come back here with me. I call police for you! Your nice blouse is ruined, too. Who do this thing to you? Where is your boyfriend?”
Before Keisha could answer any of his many questions, Sam motioned that Rico was coming across the parking lot.
“Oh, never mind. Here he is. I see him coming now by the alleyway.”
“Oh, no, Sam, please hide me! Please! Please! Please!” Keisha ducked down underneath the counter merely seconds before an infuriated Rico entered the restaurant.
“Yo, Sam. You seen Keisha? Did she come in here with her no-good ass?” He rubbed at both eyes, still trying to focus.
Caught in the middle of what was obviously a domestic situation, Sam’s Islamic beliefs forbid him from keeping another man’s wife away from her husband; however, he knew Rico’s shady character and decided to lie.
“Keisha? Umm . . . no, I have not seen her this morning. Maybe she got on bus already.”
“That girl think I’m playing with her.” Rico sinisterly peered out the huge window, searching for any sign of his renegade girlfriend. “I’m gonna beat the hot piss outta her when I find that trick.... Spraying that bullshit in my goddamn eyes. Do my shit look red or what?”
“Please calm down,” Sam begged, feeling Keisha’s hot breath blowing at his pants zipper, causing his heart rate to increase. “Yes, they are a little red, but maybe that’s from smoking the weed, huh?”
Rico laughed at Sam’s last comment, but he was still on a mission to beat Keisha’s ass. He had no idea Keisha was perched down under the counter and continued airing his business out. “Yo, Sam, I should’ve traded that big-foot wildebeest in a long time ago. You done seen the type of top-notch females I usually fucks with sliding through here with me. If she wasn’t cashing a brother out so swell, I would’ve been sent her packing.”
Squinting from the oil sheen still burning, Rico looked back out the window. Seeing there was still no sign of Keisha, he continued to dog her out. “Shit, but real rap, where I’ma find a tramp dumb as her, paying all the bills so I can have the next dime piece lay up with me while she at work? That bullshit is the American Dream. If she only knew how many females I done banged in our bed or on that couch. Hell, a nigga like me even had some of them bitches coming over cooking me breakfast as soon as Keisha went to work. She might think she’s book smart, but that be the ones who don’t have one clue about the streets.”
“Man, that’s wrong,” Sam lectured, rubbing his long goatee. “Keisha is a good girl. A real good girl. You shouldn’t talk about her like that. She goes to work every day to help you and her. She is a good woman to you. You don’t deserve to have her. You better straighten up and love her correctly.”
“Man, fuck Keisha. Fuck her entire existence. I’m the treat in that big girl’s pathetic life. You see, my sand nigga brother, I got that good dick that drives these bitches out here crazy. And she ain’t no different. As soon as I put this thang on her, she was my slave. And as for love, I never loved her ass. It was nothing but game from day one. I’d cry over losing my dog more than her. Like I said, fuck Keisha and everything about her. A mack like me out here trying to live my best life. Her tramp ass getting in the way of that, but I got her covered.”
Rico’s words cut like a knife. It was one thing to speculate how someone felt about you, but to hear firsthand was another. The heartbreaking truth hit Keisha like a ton of bricks. She didn’t know what to say or what to do. She wanted to curse him out, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Knowing him, he’d probably just gain enjoyment out of knowing he’d hurt her even more. Stunned, she stared at Sam’s zipper and the seemingly huge bulge behind it. Listening to Rico unknowingly confess to all the dirt he’d done over the months, spitefully Keisha reached up, slowly pulling Sam’s zipper down.
I hate him! I hate him! I hate his ass!
With Rico just on the other side of the counter, Sam remained as quiet as possible as Keisha’s hand took out his beige-colored, pudgy, six-inch dick. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes twitched with excitement from her touch. Wanting to yell out in his native tongue, Sam glanced down just in time to see Keisha , with ease, throat-fuck his now rock-hard meat. A virgin when Rico met her, he’d taught Keisha the art of being a true freak of the week.
Every word coming out Rico’s two-timing mouth pertaining to all his female conquests was met with Keisha slurping, slobbering, and licking Sam’s hookup. Having no panties on from earlier, she fingered herself, rocking to the beat of Rico’s cruel words.
I hate his ass! I hate his ass!
Soon using two fingers to satisfy her own pussy, she tasted a warm, sticky fluid escape from the tip of Sam’s throbbing pink head just as she climaxed. She knew at any time Sam was at the brink of blessing her with his foreign cream.
“Look, dude, I’m outta here. I gotta go find where my meal ticket call herself hiding at,” Rico hissed, heading for the door. “And, oh yeah, if you see Keisha, tell that cum-drenched goon to take her punk ass home. I’ll be waiting for her to clean up all that mess she made.”
“Okay, Rico, I’ll tell her.” Cradling the black female’s head while she sucked him off better than she sucked both his wives combined, Sam was indeed seconds away from exploding full blast in between Keisha’s jaws.
No sooner had Rico left the Coney Island than Sam snatched Keisha up, laying her face down on a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner of the restaurant. Shoving his dick in her, his fantasy of doggy-style fucking a black girl was finally fulfilled. Asking Allah for forgiveness, Sam gripped her ass, watching his dick go in and out. Seconds later, he yelled, letting loose a heavy load of nut in Keisha’s wet hole.
He stood to his feet. Cum was still dripping from the tip of Sam’s head. Swallowing his dick like a true champ, Keisha polished it off and didn’t waste a drop.
No words were passed between the two as Sam zipped up his pants then wobbly-walked, reaching for the cordless phone to call his overly promiscuous friend a cab. Keisha, not the least bit ashamed of what she’d just done, took a small stack of napkins off the counter, wiping her face dry. Minutes later, a yellow Checker Cab pulled up, blowing its horn twice. Sam smiled, handing Keisha one of his employee T-shirts to cover her torn blouse and five twenty-dollar bills out the register. Taking a complimentary early edition newspaper off one of the tables, she left out the door. Watching her get in the cab and pull off, Sam prayed she’d leave Rico alone for good; however, he knew women, no matter what race, were all weak for a man.
All Keisha wanted to do was go beg for her father’s forgiveness and hopefully move home. Seconds after she gave the taxi driver directions to her parents’ suburban house, something strange happened. The cab ran over a huge object, forcing it to stop just as Keisha read the newspaper’s shocking headline: COUNTY COMMISSIONER JACKSON’S WIFE RUSHED TO HOSPITAL.
“Oh, shit! I swear to God I didn’t see him! The guy was putting something in his eyes and just walked out in front of me. I didn’t see him. He just came from out of nowhere. Oh my God, you saw him just come from nowhere too, didn’t you, miss? I just pulled out,” the panicked driver defensively explained as he jumped out of the driver’s side.
While extremely disturbed and worried about the headlines she’d just read, Keisha also got out the cab to investigate. Glancing over her shoulder just in case Rico was around and still in pursuit, she tried to hold her composure. With the newspaper still clutched in her hands, she walked to the front side of the vehicle. The cab’s lights were still on, even though the engine was off. Standing near the hood of the cab, her heart raced.
After all the bad luck she’d suffered over the past year, God had finally given her a blessing. To her surprise, it was Rico. He was laid out in front of the cab with a bottle of Visine clutched in his hand. Although the cab wasn’t going at a high rate of speed, it had still managed to run over Rico’s lower torso. Ironically, to get the redness from the effects of the oil sheen out his eyes, the liquid had distracted him.
Somewhat dazed from being struck, he moaned in discomfort. While a small amount of blood trickled out the corner of his mouth, his lips started to quiver slightly. The alarmed driver did his best to beg Rico to remain calm, but it was to no avail. They were both in shock as Rico used his last bit of strength to yell out.
Not able to form any more words or speak, Rico focused his eyes to see, of all people, Keisha. Having been dragged a few yards, in excruciating pain, he fought to reach his arm up toward her, but he couldn’t manage to do so.
Keisha immediately saw the shape her once-beloved was in and cautiously eased to his side. Towering over him, she peered down in disgust.
“Look at you, Rico. You’re nothing but a miserable human being. You deserve to be right where you are at, on the ground near the gutter you came from. I’m embarrassed that I even let you drag me down. I know I’ve been a fool so many times for you, but this time I’m awake. This time I’m never coming back.”
Keisha meant every single solitary word she was saying as she bent down. Now on one knee, she started to smile. Bringing her face close to Rico’s ear, she started to whisper in sheer excitement.
“Guess what, nigga? A.J.’s dick was way better than yours. Hell, so was Swazy’s. And for that matter, my boss downtown was about his business in the fucking department as well. The only thing good about having sex with you is when you finish, I don’t have to feel you touching me anymore. Your repulse me; believe that. I hope you lay here and bleed the fuck out. You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve to be around normal people. You a fucking animal!
“Now, as the ambulance or morgue comes and scrapes you off this ground, just remember I’ma be back at home living the good life. No more struggling. No more being dogged by you. And no more being held under your wicked spell of madness. I’m done. I’m free of living like you and yours. Now, nigga, I pray you rot in hell, you waste of skin!” Keisha made sure no one was looking as she spit in Rico’s face before standing up. To add more insult to injury, she kicked him in the side of his head before walking away from the accident scene.
Rico couldn’t respond. He couldn’t move. His stomach felt far worse than it ever had in life—even when he had alcohol poisoning. Every part of him wanted no more than to smack the fire outta Keisha for all the things, true or not, she’d just said. But instead, he was forced to remain motionless, with her saliva slowly sliding down his jaw. Suffering from what seemed like two broken legs and leaking from the rear of his bald head, Rico had no choice but to wait for an ambulance. As he swallowed his own blood, in the back of his mind he knew he’d catch up to Keisha sooner or later; that was, if he lived to see the sunrise. After all, in Rico’s way of thinking, she was nothing more than a low-esteem, dumb-ass female that would be back on his line as soon as he snapped his finger.
* * *
Hailing another cab that happened to be riding down Davison Avenue, Keisha jumped inside, giving the driver the same instructions she’d given the first. Using the aid of the few streetlights that actually worked in the city of Detroit, she read the rest of the alarming article. The firsthand account of Mrs. Jackson’s late evening emergency was given by someone Keisha recognized as one of her neighbors, so she knew it was true.
Seeing how it didn’t identify what hospital she was rushed to, Keisha knew it was best to just head to the house, and if nothing more, at least Sandy would tell her where her mother was at. Her dad could change all the phone numbers he wanted to, re-key every lock in the house, and order every person that was in his inner circle to keep her away from him and her mother because of her promiscuous ways, but this was an altogether different situation and circumstance. Keisha was no stranger to how her father, the great Commissioner Jackson, had another personality in public than private, so if she showed up at the house unannounced without his advanced approval, it’d be no way in sweet hell fire he’d deny her to visit her own mother.