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Benxi
Mekhi drove me to the house.
“Your grandmother will be upset to come from the restaurant and find you gone.”
I shrugged. “She’s come home and found me gone before. At least this time she knows where I’m going.”
Mekhi scratched his head. I’d noticed that he did that when he was confused, so I knew a question was coming.
“What happened to you back there?” he asked.
“My stomach was upset.”
Mekhi’s expression called me a liar. “It seems like you were fine until the clergy showed up.”
This time I stole a glance at him. “It was a coincidence.”
“I don’t think I believe that.”
We pulled into Grandma Lacy’s driveway. I opened the door and got out. Mekhi followed me into the house, I offered him a seat, while I went to brush my teeth and freshen up. I returned through the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator and dropped onto the sofa at the opposite end from where he sat.
He opened his water and handed it to me, taking the other bottle and opening it for himself. I’d never had a man open a bottle of water or any other bottle for me before. Seemed sweet.
I was dry from throwing up. I finished my drink in almost one gulp. Mekhi was equally as thirsty. He finished the same way.
“Is it always this hot down here?”
“My daddy used to say it was the ninth circle of hell. I never knew what that really meant though.”
“It’s from a book,” Mekhi offered. “One of my favorites actually.”
I put my feet up on the sofa between us and pulled my knees into my chest. “Really, what book?”
“Dante’s Inferno.” Mekhi nodded like he had some fond memory of the book. “I read it in high school. I read it again a few years ago.”
“What’s it about?”
“Hell. In the book, each circle represents a different sin. Gluttony, lust, violence.” He put his empty bottle down on the table.
“What’s the ninth?”
“Treachery.”
I was in over my head on this book talk. “What’s treachery got to do with heat?”
Mekhi laughed. “This heat is treacherous. I don’t know what your dad took away from it. It’s one of those books that everyone gets their own interpretation of.”
“Like the Bible.”
Mekhi shrugged. “I don’t know. I think we’re all supposed to get the same thing from the Bible.”
“What do you think that is?”
“Live right, do right, think right, walk right.” He chuckled again. “I don’t know. I don’t read it much.”
His head was turned away from me. He was looking across to the fireplace at the pictures. Many of me as a child. He was fine. That good dark skin, a strong jaw, nice shaped head. He even had a nice neck. Long and strong looking. Nice hands. This nigga was playing me. He had a woman.
“Mekhi, I’m not convinced you don’t have a girlfriend.”
He turned back toward me. “How did we get back to this subject?”
“I want to make sure if you sign me that I am the only woman you’re focused on for the next year. I would need all your time and energy and I don’t want any girlfriend drama.”
A too smug grin curled his lips. “Yeah, cause I know Cig had a lot of that.”
“You know Cig well?”
“An Atlanta music producer? Come on. Cig and I go way back to the beginning for both of us,” he said. “He got started a few years ahead of me, but I know Cig real good which is why you need to cut CoCo loose.”
“It’s not that easy,” I said, wishing it was. “Cig signed me when no one else would.”
“Cig signed you when no one knew who you were and I bet that paper ain’t right.”
I couldn’t argue with that statement. “The next contract will be better. I have some representation this time.”
Mekhi nodded and then hesitated briefly before saying, “There’s another issue with CoCo.”
I knew he meant the rumors that Cig was still selling drugs; that the label was a way to clean some of his money.
“CoCo won’t be a cool place to be when everything hits the fan,” Mekhi added. “And believe me, Benx, everything will eventually hit.”
I let out a long breath. “I don’t want to talk about CoCo. I already know who they are. Tell me about Airamas.”
“Under one condition,” he said.
I laughed this time. Popped up and took both our empties in the kitchen and returned with two new bottles. I put my feet back up on the sofa and drew my knees to my chest again. “So, what is this condition you have when you’re the one tryin’ to sign me?”
Mekhi hesitated. “Tell me what happened to you in that restaurant.”
I frowned.
He continued, “I told you I like to know where my artists are coming from. One of those men –”
I raised a hand. “Mekhi, you have this wrong.”
“I don’t.” His piercing, brown eyes cut through my denial. He reached for the water bottles. I watched him open both again. My finger touched his as we made the exchange and our eyes connected. I felt a tremble race down my spine. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t.
“Tell me,” he pressed. “You told me about your parents. You can trust me.”
He didn’t realize they weren’t the same kind of stories. I had no control over my parents. This was different. I was a part of this crime. I shook my head. “I don’t trust nobody. I don’t even trust my grandmother.”
“You trust Cig.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“He’s not trustworthy.”
I looked away and then looked back. “But I know him.”
Mekhi smirked. “No you don’t.”
I raised the bottle to my mouth. My heart was pounding again. He was right. I didn’t know Cig. I managed my relationship with him to the best of my abilities, but I’d heard things.
“I don’t mean to make this about Cig. You don’t know me, but I care about you – already. I want to know what happened to you. That’s more important than talking about music or Cig.”
I sighed. He was persistent and convincing just like he’d been at the airport the other night. “Okay, you really want to know?”
He leaned forward in my direction. “Yes.”
I took a deep breath. I turned my eyes away from his for a moment, but then looked back. “Pastor Davis raped me.”
Mekhi’s jaw tensed. “When?”
“I was fifteen. He wasn’t a pastor then. He was an elder at the church.”
“Does your grandmother know?”
I shook my head. “I told you I can’t trust her. Not with that.”
“What happened? Did you tell anyone? Did he hurt you, I mean other than the obvious?”
“No.” I frowned as I remembered. “He was gentle with me. I think he thought he was making love to me or something freaky like that. He was always gentle.”
Mekhi cocked his head. “It happened more than once?”
I hadn’t meant to tell this much. To let him know everything I let happen. He’d judge me for it. Cig had. “I’m done talking about it.”
“That’s why you ran away from home.” Mekhi was figuring it out by himself. I didn’t need to tell him. “He wouldn’t stop.”
Tears filled my eyes. I let out a long breath. In my memory, I saw Pastor Davis walking to the table today. All I could think about was the things he made me do.
“Benxi.” Mekhi’s hand was on mine. He squeezed. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
I released a few more breaths. I had to fight having another panic attack. I was still tired from the last one.
Mekhi squeezed again. “He’s done hurting you.”
“He gave me money,” I blurted out. I guess I was looking for judgment. I wanted to make him look at me the way Cig looked at me when I told him. I wanted my heart to stop pounding, my stomach to stop fluttering...I wanted to stop feeling like this man was someone special. But Mekhi Johnson was not going to play himself. I knew that when he said, “It doesn’t matter that he gave you money. That was his way of easing his own conscience.”
I closed my eyes, rolled my bottom lip in and felt the burden of six years of guilt leave me. Was this all it took for me to feel better? For someone to believe I hadn’t wanted what happened? I opened my eyes and stared at him. Tears spilled down my face.
Mekhi stood, crossed the room and pulled a wad of tissue from a holder. He handed them to me before he sat back down.
“I saved the money. When I thought I had enough, I ran.” I wiped my tears. “My grandmother would have believed his side of the story.”
He nodded. “You did what you had to do. I’m sorry for you, Benx.” I felt the words in his chest as he spoke them. “Do you want to talk about it some more?”
I shook my head and gave my eyes one final swipe. “Let’s change the subject.”
He nodded.
“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” I sounded like a scared ten-year-old, even to myself.
He raised two fingers, kissed them and tapped his chest. “I’ll take it to my grave.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. My voice cracked when I thanked him. I was relieved I could trust him, but even more relieved that he actually seemed to care.
We were quiet for a few minutes. Both drinking our waters and processing what I’d told him. I finished my bottle and put it down. “Tell me about this music you have for me to listen to?”
Mekhi stood. “My stomach is starting to bark. Why don’t you get your stuff, we grab something to eat and talk over the food.”
Glad to have something to do besides think, I stood. “Great idea.”
I went into my bedroom and grabbed my bag. I’d already packed after I’d dressed for church. I looked at this room for the last time. I was staying in a hotel the next time I came. I turned and Mekhi was there.
“Maybe one day you can tell your grandmother,” he said, seeming to know what I was thinking.
I shook my head. “With her kind of thinking,” I paused. Never. “Let’s go.”