Beyond the Hurt (12 page)

“Charles…son…” she fumbled with her words as she wrestled to get them out. It was important for her to say the right words, to explain it in the right way. It was so easy when he was a boy, when he was innocent and the value of her words carried a little weight. She was
Mommy
and the element of
Daddy
was irrelevant because the necessities of life were taken care of. He had male mentors, uncles, and teachers. In her world, the absence of his father was a non-issue. Edmond was his father for all she was concerned. The fact that he never knew Calvin to be his biological father remained water under the bridge that she would address when they crossed it.  Until now, life patterned itself to never lead to the water. She started again deciding to take a new angle, “Calvin is helping me with some work for the shop. I didn’t want you to know about it because I didn’t want you to worry. He knows some of the best contractors who are giving me a good deal.” She could not bring herself to speak the truth. It was too much. He didn’t deserve to find out this way.

“Well, well, well, now isn’t this cute. The family is together again.
Reunited and it feels so good
,” she sang; “Now I never thought I would walk in here and see this sight!” Charlene Tucker had impeccable timing and no shame. She let herself in since no one was responding to her constant knocking. Lucky for her, the door was left unlocked. Instantly, she spotted Calvin and felt God was finally giving her, her opportunity to get even with Raquel.

She couldn’t resist being messy. Charlene trotted slowly through the shop making an even bigger scene than had already been scripted. “Nice to see you Calvin. I’m glad that you are finally stepping into your fatherly role, so my husband can focus more on his own. You are ready to be a daddy now?” Calvin only smirked and stayed posted in the same position, cool, calm and collected. He knew it was a matter of moments before everything would unfold and he had a front row seat.

“Mama, what the hell is going on?
Dammit!
Say something!” Charles yelled in anguish, fighting back every buried emotion that so desperately wanted to surface.

Raquel couldn’t speak. It was too difficult. There was no way to overturn all the lies. She could see it in his eyes that she had lost him. The truth didn’t matter. She broke the bond of their trust, their unit. She collapsed to the floor weeping profusely. She made it her responsibility to clean up his every mess and call him out on it, but she was incapable of being called out on her own.

“Mama, you don’t get to cry. This is not your pain,” he could no longer contain himself. He had reached his wits end. “How about I don’t even give a damn! I’m out!” He turned and stormed out the shop, shattering her glass door with the force from slamming it. Pieces of glass scattered about the front entrance adding an additional project to the list of repairs.

“Are you happy now, you no good
bitch
?” Raquel immediately charged in her direction, turning her rage toward Charlene. She threw out her arms in an attempt to push her down. Charlene quickly jerked her body to the side, knowing she was off balance and Raquel fell face-forward to the floor. She popped up immediately and charged at her again, digging her nails into her skin. Charlene had her fair share of fights back in the day, channeled her inner ghetto, got a hold of a piece of her hair, and tossed her to the ground again.

“I am going to leave you two ladies to work this out. Rocky it was good seeing you. Don't worry; I will take care of the door. It is the least I can do.” Calvin tossed a wad of rolled one hundred dollar bills to where she was sprawled on the floor panting as if she had been in an UFC battle and let himself out.

“Rocky, I am not your enemy. I just came to get my hair done and happened to stumble upon the family feud. I did my part by staying silent all these years, but I know you and Edmond still messed around. I should be attacking yo’ ass, but I’m grown. I have to worry about my own now. I kept my kids away at your request. Your secret was my secret and for years, I suffered. Not anymore. But, I can see that you are in no condition to do my hair, so can I reschedule for another time?” Charlene knew she was picking at an open wound. For years, she wanted to speak up, to have a say, but she remained silent, until Edmond’s actions gave her the license to let it all out.

Raquel just lay silent, in her shame, on the floor, awaiting Charlene to make her exit.

Chapter 12 

“Let me in.” Lance released the button on the intercom for Darnise to buzz him into her unit. She stayed in the heart of West Oakland, Acorn District. From the hearsay of the many street myths that circulated the city, most people who were unfamiliar with Oakland or just
bougie
in nature rarely traveled to this particular part of town for fear of being killed. Lance was not afraid to travel anywhere. For the most part, he dated women in every nook and cranny of the city, West Oakland was not to be left from the list. He didn’t discriminate. As a matter-of-fact, it was purposefully orchestrated so if he had a need, he would be covered for all circumstances and situations. Women willingly entered into companionship with him knowing that they were not going to have him solely to themselves; however, it rarely mattered to them. Time spent with Lance was far worth it in their eyes.

Darnise buzzed him in. Quickly he waved off Jamie Lynn to let her know he was good and was out of sight safe in the confines of her abode.

Darnise had the front door left slightly ajar for him. She needed to hurry back to the kitchen to attend to her version of southern fried chicken that she was preparing for Lance in case he needed some food to settle his stomach. From the aroma in the apartment, it was clear that it was chicken, but the edible nature was still to be determined. Smoke filled the hallway leading up to the kitchen proving her novice cooking ability. 

The burnt smell from the previous batch that she let sit too long in the grease hit his nose upon entry. He parked his fatigued body down on the couch and rested his feet upon the wooden coffee table. He didn’t bother going in the kitchen after her for any formal greeting. His place to unwind was always the couch when he entered her apartment; to catch the highlights of missed games on ESPN or staying abreast of the world news on CNN. Lance had a fluctuating schedule due to his work hours at the Oakland Airport and often missed major games and current events. He had enough seniority to work when he felt it necessary, but he still had to adhere to the crazy work hours with TSA.

“Babe, you want a beer or something?” Darnise kissed him on his forehead as she often did when he neglected to greet her, “I’m making some fried chicken and cornbread. You hungry?” She called out back to him as she hurried her way into the kitchen once again to check on her meal. It was important to her that he understood she had his back. Her cooking poorly compared to that of Miss Lydia’s, yet she constantly tried her best to impress the both of them. It was obvious to everyone, even to Darnise, that Lydia did not care for the likes of her, but that didn’t stop her from putting forth a valiant effort to measure up to a fraction of her standards.

“Nah, I’m straight. I just need to chill for a minute while I try to reach Charles. He hasn’t been answering any of my calls.” He scoured through his phones looking for any sign of a missed call or text message that he could have possibly overlooked.

Darnise sashayed in, draped in one of his navy blue dress shirts left in her possession from a previous sleepover, batter and flour from her cornbread-making-attempt smeared on her face and fingertips. She offered her index finger with a hint of batter left on it to get Lance to lick clean as he often did when he was in a better mood or just horny and trying to get her excited for some foreplay. He instantly backed away from her in irritation of her playful disposition. Tonight was different; he was in no mood for her tasteless batter and antics. He swatted her hand away from his face and kept searching through his phone.

“Do you even know what happened?” She blurted out in a bit of frustration to his rejection. She could tell he was not in the best state of mind, so she thought it best not to beat around the bush to get him talking. “I heard from
Mooch
, who is the cousin of one of the bartenders at the club that they weren’t even trying to kill Elijah. As a matter-of-fact, they were after Charles and when, Elijah went to get the car they sprayed it up thinking it was him,” she reported. His expression lay blank.

“Who would have it out for Charles? He gets along with practically everybody in this town. All this ain’t adding up.” Lance shook his head in disbelief. Everything in him still wanted to breakdown, to shed tears for his fallen brother, but his pride wouldn’t let him. The battered man inside of him refused to reveal himself.

“That’s not even the end of it. I know Charles might think it was ‘The Neighborhood Kings’ based on everything that went down at his birthday party, but word on the street is, Calvin Rogers already put a bullet in the dude that got Elijah.” She spewed out the words as if she was in casual conversation with one of her girlfriends on the phone for daily girl chat.

As Lance listened to her carry on, his body tightened up, sending unfamiliar chills through his body. He appeared extremely anxious, almost like his life and existence was slipping away. He stared hard at the wall as if contemplating some form of a takeover. Fear, anger and pain loomed in his eyes. He spoke without initiation; “I need to get a hold of my boy, before he does something stupid, hell…before I do something stupid.” He gathered his things, that were scattered about her place, to make his exit. He had to make moves; he couldn’t just sit in the house and allow Charles to handle it on his own. Charles was a certified bodyguard, but that didn’t mean he had the ability to take on the entire neighborhood.

“You not gonna find him tonight, plus the streets is real hot right now. Charles don’t need both of his boys gone. Just stay the night with me. I can keep your mind off of all of that.” Darnise hurried to the doorway to block him from leaving and turned on her sultry, seductive alter ego tugging at his arm. She guided him back toward the couch, pulling him down to her level and rubbing her hand across his heaving chest. Lance remembered just how catering she could be. It was hard for him to resist her at times because she was so persistent. His mama was right; her legs were always open to his beck and call. He often didn’t even have to ask as she served herself up on a platter for him every opportunity she had. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt exposing her leopard print bra to tease him a bit and tossed it to the floor displaying her matching underwear.  Then she slowly lifted his shirt revealing his geometrically chiseled six-pack, pulling it up to his chest without his guided assistance and repositioned herself to maneuver on top of him placing gentle kisses on his bare skin in a downward motion. She paused when she reached his waistline to unfasten his belt.

“Darnise, I’m not in the mood for this,” he uttered with aggravation. She crumpled up her face in disbelief, knowing that he loved when she took control. That was the last thing she expected to hear from him considering he accepted her invitation, knowing what she ultimately wanted. He pulled his shirt back down and scooted her off of him to the side. He never refused her before, so Darnise was unsure how to take it. She moved back toward him hoping he was playing. Most of the time he enjoyed her aggressive nature; she pressed forward. Again, he pushed her back, this time with a little more force. She instantly copped an attitude.

“Is it because of that stank ho’ from the club?” She quickly reached for her shirt that had landed behind the couch and re-dressed herself. The incident from the club immediately came to her remembrance; it was the easiest way for her to get back at him. She had not forgotten; it just fell on the agenda for later on in the evening after her sexual appetite was curbed. Since he threw a wrench in her plan, it was the best time to bring it to the forefront for discussion.

“I’m just not in the mood. Stop trippin'. You shouldn’t even be using that kind of language. It’s not ladylike,” Lance responded, patronizing her. He reached out for her bare thigh that lay across his legs to rub her into submission. She snatched her leg back and sat up to gain a good position on the couch for her rebuttal.

“It has never been a problem before. All of a sudden, this new
ho’
comes in your life and now you are a saint? I call B.S.! I’m gonna let you slide tonight because I know you are goin thru’ but please believe we will finish this later.” Although she wanted him bad, she knew that his mental state was altered and that it had nothing to do with her. When the time was right, she would make sure to finish the conversation. Darnise rarely forgot a thing. She could bring up old incidents from months ago with full recollection of all details of what was said, who was involved, and what they had on. She ungrudgingly removed herself and whisked away to the kitchen to package up the uneaten food. She retired to her bedroom with her vibrator that would not deny her company.

The continuous sound of loud banging on the front door startled her out of her sleep. Lance, oblivious to the loud noise coming from outside, stayed sprawled out across the sofa bed dormant to the commotion. After their little spat, Darnise locked herself in her bedroom to pleasure herself while Lance dozed off on the couch. She thought it best to let him sleep to avoid him being restless in the morning. She had her qualms with him, but despite it all, she loved him and truly had his back. When she wasn’t slashing his tires, burning his clothes or picking fights with the women she caught him messing around with; she was his ride-or-die-chick.  She invested so many years into their relationship that sooner or later he would be bound to commit to her fully and stop with all of the childish games. It was her fault for falling for him knowing he was not in a place of desiring commitment.

Although, Darnise spent more than your average amount of time basking in “hood” behaviors; she was an intelligent girl. Educated through the public school system, she went on to graduate with her Bachelor’s Degree from San Jose State. At twenty-five years of age, she didn’t have any children, but hopes of every little girl’s dream of the white picket fence fantasy. When she was sixteen years old, she got pregnant by one of the older boys who lived in her building growing up. Once her mama got wind of it, she forced her to get an abortion refusing to allow another mouth to feed put them out in the streets. Life was difficult enough with her mom and two siblings living out of government housing and watching her mother’s on-again-off-again boyfriend come home and take out his life’s frustrations on her mother. She made do. She worked on weekends at the local mini-mart and deli to help bring in extra cash and kept money on the side to keep her hair styled and her nails manicured.

When she met Lance one night at the club, she felt she hit the jackpot. He was handsome, athletic, and popular around town, which meant he had “instant access,” and he had a great personality. She was instantly mesmerized by his charm and ate up all of his game. Her sass is what drew him into to her. He liked a girl with a bit of spice, who knew how to hold herself and her man down. He rocked with her because she was real, even with the occasional sew-in weave and fake lashes. As long as when she stepped out of the house, she was red carpet ready; he didn’t mind how she got there.

Darnise heard the knocking first and hurried to the living room where he lay sprawled across the couch in his boxers and shook Lance out of his sleep.             

“Open up! It’s the police. Lance Brown we have a warrant for your arrest.” The knocking persisted. “We know you are in there. Darnise Jacobs, please cooperate with us and open the door.”

Darnise looked over to Lance for approval to let the knocking guest in. Lance scrambled around the living room locating his pants and his shirt to throw on before opening the door, still trying to gain his bearings. He signaled to her to give them a response, to keep her door from being smashed in.

“Okay. One moment. Let me throw on some clothes.” She looked upon Lance for some answers and assurance that if she opened the door, she would be able to see him again. He was clueless. He knew at this point that it could be anyone.

He signaled to instruct her to open the door. A tall, white, middle-aged man stood at the door with his partner a few feet behind on high alert if he decided to try anything tricky. “Lance Brown sorry to disturb you this early in the morning, but we have a warrant out for your arrest for the rape of Tanisha Watkins. We have to bring you down to the station for some questioning.” The officer was not abrasive. He appeared strangely amiable, only doing the job he was called to do, so Lance decided to cooperate. He had no more fight left in him. For all he knew, he was being arrested for the altercation at the diner or at worst for something Charles did.

It didn’t dawn on Lance that he was being arrested for rape until the officer began to place the handcuffs around his wrists patting him down in search of contraband and concealed weapons. His manhood was violated with each grab and tug. He was helpless. Even though this time they didn’t use the force as the officers applied when he was in the diner.