I left the projects with Monique and drove her straight to Duke Hospital’s emergency room. They found she had a fractured left jaw and a broken nose. She had two cracked ribs and it took sixteen stitches to close the gash in her upper lip. They kept her overnight to run some more tests because of the knot on her forehead. I left her my cell number and told her to call or text me when they were releasing her. I was sitting on a bench in Sherwood Park, playing with my new red nose pit bull puppy that I’d conveniently named “Bitch,” and waiting on my man Shaheem from The SouthSide to bring me three grand for the four and a half ounces of hard I was holding for him, when Monique called and said she was ready. When I pulled up to the front of the hospital, Monique was standing out front bandaged and stitched the fuck up. We didn’t say two words to each other as we drove toward my townhouse. As I drove, I sat wondering, “Why in the hell am I doing this shit? I barely even know this chic.” I remembered when I first saw her how I thought she was the most beautiful chocolate specimen I’d ever laid eyes on, and then how she’d looked yesterday all beaten and bloodied up. Fuck how long I’d been hustlin, I’d been a street nigga all my motherfuckin life. There was just something different about this girl Monique. I’d heard that this Big Joe character sold a lot “boy,” but she didn’t seem like your average dope dealers bitch. There was still an innocence about her, that made me wanna help her out. Even with the bandages, stitches, and swelling, you could still tell she was a beautiful girl. She definitely looked better than yesterday! Her body was still outta this world. No amount of injuries could change that. Her breasts were plump and firm, her waist small, and her ass looked like Kim Kardashians, only softer. To top all that off, she had some beautifully pedicured feet and toes. You know I’m a sucker for some pretty toes. She still had on the same Tommy Girl t-shirt, jeans and hood chic thong flip flops.
“What’s up, you alright?” I asked breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” she answered in a voice so low I could barely hear her, as she hung her head and stared down into her lap. Reaching over, I lightly put my finger under her chin and lifted her head so her gaze met mine.
“Monique, look at me.” Slowly she did as I asked and looked into my eyes. “Now, although I’m not claiming to be the smartest person in the world, I do know that you are a queen. No matter what happens in life, don’t ever hang your head down. Stay proud. Don’t never let nobody take that from you aight?”
“O.K.”
“Besides, if you walk around with your head down, you might just miss something important,” I said with a smile trying to cheer her up. She smiled back through swollen lips, and even though I knew she was in pain, I knew she’d be alright. We continued to ride in silence for a few more minutes, before I once again realized she was still wearing the same blood caked clothes from yesterday. “So where do we need to pick your clothes up from?” I asked her. Looking up at me she started to hang her head again before catching herself and answering,
“I don’t have any clothes.” Before I could ask her, she saw my confusion and continued. “The guy I was with beat me up like this. He beat me, raped me, then beat me some more. After all that, he told me to get out and don’t take nothing, and that if he ever saw me again he’d kill me. I aint got nothing or nobody. All I ever had in this world was my dreams and my mama, and they both dead to me now. So that’s what I am. Nothing.” I watched the tears roll down her face and I was pissed the fuck off. I hated to see a woman cry.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” I spoke handing her some Kleenex from the back seat. “So, you mean to tell me, that all you got is the clothes on your back?” She nodded her head yes as she wiped tears from her face. “Oh well, I was planning on going to the mall anyway. Might as well swing by now,” Monique stared at me with bewilderment in her eyes. Twenty minutes later we pulled into Northgate Mall’s parking lot and found a parking space close to the entrance of Sears. I knew I had about four grand on me, so I reached in my pocket, peeled off about half, and handed it to Monique. Keep in mind that besides the ten grand I’d given my first love Tika, I’d never given any chic over three hundred dollars for nothing! The chic who was the beneficiary of “that” three hundred, had did a little stripper party for my man coming home from a bid, and she’d had to fuck and suck me and two more niggas! I was first of course. I don’t play that shit fucking behind niggas. But anyway, I thought fuck it. I was doing my good deed. Maybe God would give me a break on all the wicked shit I’d done out there in them streets. Monique hesitated like she was unsure whether she would be selling her soul, until I pushed the money into her hand, hopped out and told her to meet me back at the car in two hours. “Three hours later, we were sitting in my living room with bags full of clothes, boxes of shoes and two Philly cheesesteaks from Italian Pizzeria. “Yo I know you wanna take a bath,” I said and Monique nodded her head yes. Calmly I reached into one of my bags and pulled out a gift basket from Bath & Body Works, complete with soap, shampoo, lotion, perfume, etc. I think I remember the fragrance being called Warm Vanilla Sugar. Monique accepted the basket and said thank you, before grabbing up a couple of her bags and disappearing into the bathroom. I checked my phone and saw that I had twelve missed calls. Eleven from my square bitch Latifah I was telling you about. I call her square, because she doesn’t do shit. Don’t smoke, drink, none of that. But she does love to fuck though. Bad boys are her only weakness. Namely “Teddy Banks.” The other call was from Shell. I was hungry as a hostage so I made a mental note to hit em both back. I knew what Latifah wanted. Some dick. With Shell, you never knew. About thirty minutes later Monique re-appeared from the bathroom in a pink t-shirt, shorts and bare feet. Walking slowly over to the couch she sat down beside me and looked at me with what seemed like tears at the rim of her eyes.
“Banks I…. I know this stuff aint free…. But if you could please wait until my ribs heal some, I promise I’ll”…
“Hold the fuck up!” I stopped her as she jumped back frightened as if I would strike her! Sliding back a little I held my hands up, quickly letting it be known that definitely wasn’t the case. “Let me ‘explain something to you Monique. First of all, you aint never gotta be scared of me because I’m a man, and I’d never put my hands on a woman. Never have. Never will. That aint my style. Understand?” She nodded her head yes although shamefully.
“I’m sorry. I just….”
“Don’t sweat it.” I cut her off again. “I can imagine the bullshit you been through and I know it aint easy to forget. Secondly, I don’t know what, or why you think I’m helping you out like I am, but believe me, it definitely aint got nothing to do with sex. My plate is full, trust me. You are a beautiful young woman but I would never stoop that low. I am a man of honor, and all I ask is that you remember that and treat me as such. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Third. Yes, you will repay me. But your job will be to keep this place clean. I’m junky as hell sometimes and I don’t always have time to do it. Plus, I need you to keep my clothes washed. If it says dry clean, then take it to the dry cleaners. Can you cook?”
“Yes.”
“Well about once a week I’d like you to cook something. You do these things until you can get back on your feet and find a place, and we’ll call it even. Aight?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then. I gotta go. Call me only if it’s an absolute emergency. Oh, before I forget. The bedroom on the left is yours, the one on the right is mine. The rooms fully furnished. Sheets and blankets in the hall closet. I gotta go.” With that said, I was out the door.