A Special Relationship (25 page)

 
“I already apologized.
 
Over and over.
 
There’s just so many times I can repent.”
 
She sounded almost harsh.
 
Millie noticed the change in her friend.

 
“You okay?”

 
“Yeah, I’m just. . .
Yeah.”

 
“Mona still giving you a hard time about the rent?”

 
“Of course she is.
 
She wants me to go back to Dooney and apologize for running out on him.
 
Then when that got old and she concluded that I wasn’t about to do any such thing, she started blowing Willie Charles’ horn.
 
I should beg him to hire me back, she said.”

 
Millie shook her head.
 
“The devil is busy, Carrie.
 
He’s trying to knock you out.”

 
Carrie nodded.
 
“I know.”

 
“But God is still able now.
 
He’s sho’ able.
 
And sooner than you think all these troubles will be behind you.
 
You just trying to do
right,
and the Lord knows that.
 
That devil sees it and is trying to use anybody he can to steer you wrong.
 
That’s why Willie Charles tried to bother you.
 
That’s why Dooney wanted you working for him.
 
And that’s why that uppity Tyler Langley slapped you like she did.”
 

 
Carrie looked at Millie.
 
“Tyler Langley?”

 
“Yeah.
 
That’s the name of the woman that slapped you.
 
She’s a big time lawyer in town, one of Robert Kincaid’s girlfriends.”

 
Carrie hesitated at the mention of Robert’s name.
 
“Robert Kincaid?” she said as if she didn’t know him.

 
“Yeah.
 
That white man that was with her that night?
 
She was probably mad at him because she wasn’t his only woman and she decided to take her fire out on you.”

 
“How do you know all of this about those white folks?”

 
“Because I know.
 
Because I ain’t blind.
 
He
bring
other females into Jetson’s all the time.
 
And they
be
hanging all on him too.
 
He’s a regular there.
 
But what I’m trying to say, Carrie, is that all of these trials and tribulations you been going through is only a test.
 
You hold onto God’s unchanging hand and you gonna make it.
 
You gonna be just fine.”

 
Carrie nodded.
 
Millie’s words of encouragement weren’t unlike the same sermon she’d been preaching to herself every day since she arrived in Florida.
 
But her words about Robert were another matter.
 
She’d been halfway expecting him to come by and check on her, just to see if she was all right.
 
He was, after all, concerned enough to go all the way to Simms and drag her home.
 
But she hadn’t seen or heard a peep out of him.
 
Now she understood why.
 
Not only was he not available, but if Millie had it right he was too entangled.
 
That nasty Tyler Langley was just one of his women.
 
Just one of many, according to Millie.
 
And he was the man she once thought was her dream come true.
 
He was the man she was actually considering calling and asking for a job, even though she never imagined that her circumstances would get that desperate.
 
She shook her head.

 
“Don’t say no,” Millie said to her, misunderstanding the reaction.
 
“It’s true.
 
If God be for you, who can be against you, Carrie?”

 
“No, I wasn’t shaking my head because of what you said about that, please, no.
 
I was just . . . I don’t know, Mill.
 
Maybe I should just go back to Georgia.”

 
“No, Carrie.”

 
“At least I can find a job there.
 
Maybe save enough money—”

 
“How?
 
Even if you get a job, and that’s no guarantee, they barely pay minimum wage up there and you know it.
 
And after you pay your rent and living expenses what money left to save?
 
If you go back home, Carrie, you’ll never go to college.
 
That mama of yours you told me about will take from you and take from you while men like Dale Mosley
won’t hardly
let you breathe. You’ll never find out how far God can take you if you turn back.
 
You’ll be forty years old like me and still waiting tables.
 
And pretty soon the men will stop asking.
 
And pretty soon your mama will be dead and gone and you’ll still be right there living for a woman who never appreciated you anyhow.
 
No, Carrie.
 
You gave at the office.
 
You
was
there when your mama needed you the most.
 
You paid your dues.
 
Now it’s time for you to get paid.
 
God didn’t bring you this far to leave you.
 
Or to let you give up.”

 
Carrie found herself smiling.
 
“Just tell me what you really mean, Millie, okay?”

 
Millie laughed.
 
“I mean God is able, child.
 
That’s what I mean.
 
He took care of the three Hebrew boys in the fiery furnace.
 
He took care of Daniel in that lion’s den.
 
He’ll take care of you too, Carrie.
 
That’s what I mean.”

 
Carrie moved over to Millie and hugged her around her neck.
 
Then she sat
beside
her trying with all she had not to let the tears that seemed determined to never leave her, escape.

Later that same night, Carrie and Mona emerged out of their apartment dressed for a comfortable night out.
 
Mona had on jeans and a T-shirt while Carrie had on a pair of white shorts and a tucked-inside green blouse.
 
Her socks and tennis shoes made her appear almost preppie.
 
They were supposed to be going to hang out with some of Mona’s friends, but Carrie, all the way out of the building, down the steps of the stoop, and toward the bus stop, kept asking for details.

 
“We’re just going to a friend’s house to relax, that’s all, Carrie, goodness,” Mona said.
 
“You need it and I need it too.
 
You’ve been in J-ville for over a month now and the only friend you’ve made is that annoying-behind Millie Rawlings.
 
These people are our age and they know how to have some fun.”

 
“What kind of fun, Mona?”

 
“Fun.
 
Talking and laughing and chilling.
 
Just come on!”

 
And she did.
 
Against her better judgment she went along with Mona.
 
The first indication of trouble was early on, when they got off of the bus and made the block-long walk to a small, shack of a house on a dark, near deserted-looking
street
.
 
The house, however, was lit up from room to room and was jamming.
 
The music could be heard nearly a block away.
 
Carrie wanted to turn around right then, but it was too dark, the neighborhood was too isolated, and she was too concerned for her sister’s safety to not at least make sure she was going to be okay.

 
The second indication of trouble was when they stepped inside the small house.
 
Wall to wall college kids, all males, were inside and became even more animated when somebody announced that the “entertainment” had arrived.
 
Before Carrie could say a word, which she was about to, Mona smilingly told the boys to “hold your horses” and escorted Carrie into the bathroom at the end of the small, narrow hall.

 
As soon as the door closed, Carrie fumed.
 
“Entertainment?” she said.

 
“Don’t blow a gasket, Carrie,” Mona said as she unzipped her nap sack and began pulling out clothes.
 
“All you got to do is assist me.”

 
“Assist you to do what?”

 
Mona rolled her eyes.
 
“What do you think?
 
Sing spirituals?”

 
“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you.
 
‘We’re just going to visit friends, Carrie.’
 
Yeah, right.”

 
Mona slipped out of her T-shirt and put on a halter top.
 
“You ain’t got to dance.
 
All you got to do is hand me my props, that’s all.’

 
Carrie frowned.
 
“What props?”

 
“Just props, Carrie, okay?
 
My wand, my bunny tails, stuff like that.”

 
Carrie couldn’t believe it.
 
Bunny tails and wands!
 
She should have known.
 
She actually thought her sister, for once, was concerned about her and was just trying to cheer her up with this night out.
 
Instead she brought her to the original animal house to assist her with a strip tease!
 
Carrie shook her head.
 
She wasn’t getting any breaks, she thought.

 
“Hand me those garters, Carrie,” Mona said but Carrie didn’t even hear her.
 
She left.
 
She walked out of that bathroom, down that narrow hall, with every intention of not looking back.
 
But as soon as she stepped into the living room, she stepped into a hornet’s nest of testosterone.
 
Men began clapping as if her appearance was a part of the show and started grabbing at her and groping her.
 
They even cornered her.
 
She was screaming for them to leave her alone, but they had no mercy.
 
Why
was she
there if she didn’t want this, some of them were asking.
 
One of them even pulled on her blouse so violently that it nearly ripped in two, exposing her bra and causing the men to whoop and holler even more.

 
“All right boys!” Mona voice could be heard over the noise.
 
“Forget that wall flower.
 
Come on to mama!”

 
And they
went,
every one of them, toward the real entertainment.
 
As soon as they did, Carrie sprinted out of that house and as far away as she could get.
 
The neighborhood was nearly deserted and the darkness of the night gave her an eerie feeling, but she held her torn blouse together by the catch of her hands and didn’t look back.
 
She was down, nearly out, but she wasn’t about to throw in the towel just yet.
 
Misery loved company, and Mona had been trying every way she could to get Carrie down in that gutter with her.
 
But Carrie wasn’t going down like that.
 
She was in trouble, and she needed help, but not that kind, she’d decided.

***

Bill Johnson, a linebackers coach for the Jacksonville Jaguars and Robert’s best friend since college, leaned back in the chair in front of Robert’s desk and smiled.
 
He was a couple years younger than Robert, better looking according to many of the women they used to compete for, and had a way about him that made him instantly likeable.
 
His best feature, he felt, was his skin color, a black-as-a-shoe deep dark tone that was smoother than cream. And when he smiled, the contrast was remarkable.
 
“Is that shocking enough?” he asked Robert.