Life Without Hope (9 page)

to the window and close the blinds ending our freak show. He

came back, sat on the bed, propped his leg up, the one with the

sock on, and lit a cigarette. He watched me intently as he blew

smoke right in my direction. I would have given the world just to

have read his mind. What really goes through a man’s mind after

a woman gives him her body? Well actually in my case he took it,

kinda.

For some reason, I dozed off to sleep thinking about Marcus,

my fiancé. I was guilt ridden. He was the love of my life, but sex-

ually, there was no comparison between he and Life. Marcus was-

n’t into oral sex nor was he half as endowed as Life was. I went to

sleep with my hands between my legs, thinking how that thug had

put it on me.

At 11 o’clock, I was awakened to the sound of the phone ring-

ing. Disoriented, I couldn’t remember where I was. I finally

remembered to speak. “Hello?” I was informed that it was check-

out time. Still I could not get my bearings. I lay back down on the

pillow. Then it all came back. I was in a hotel room with a man I

hardly knew, he had taken my body. Oh, shit! I thought about the

guns, the police and those evil white men that tried to abduct me.

I sprung from the bed, my torn panties lay on the floor as a

reminder of the conquest of my body. And Life was gone. I did

not know if that was good or bad considering all that he took me

through. My mind raced a mile a minute. I went into the adjoin-

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ing room. He wasn’t there. I ran my fingers through my hair. The

phone rang, startling me.

“
Hello?”

“
Wuz up, Shouty!” From the sound of his raspy voice, he had

been drinking. “I got the car fixed. You ready to bounce to Tally?”

“
Yaaa!” I was excited for some reason as I answered. “I’ll be

down in a sec.” I hung the phone up and walked over to the win-

dow; children were playing around the pool, it was a beautiful day.

As I took a shower, I had to admit, even though Life Thugstin was

a thug, he handled his business. I shuddered at the thought of

what would have happened to me if Marcus would have been

there when the white men tried to abduct me. I r ubbed my

swollen private thinking once again how every woman from time

to time needs a thug in her life. Once thing for sure, once we made

it to Tallahassee I was going to get rid of his ass like a bad habit.

I walked out into the hotel vestibule with my luggage in hand.

I was wearing white slacks with a pink blouse made of soft cotton.

Life, nor my car, were anywhere in sight. I looked around, the sun

still bright and I heard my name. Life was all the way at the end

of the parking lot. He came strutting toward me with all new

clothes on. A gold Nike sweatsuit with a brown Kangol hat and a

pair of the new Jordans that had just come out. Once up close he

tried to kiss me while speaking, “Hi baby!” I ducked. He reached

for my luggage making a face, a knowing grin. I took off walking.

I smelled his cologne.

“
I have a surprise for you.” I continued to walk. Betty was still

nowhere in sight. I stopped, looked behind me and saw that he

had stopped, placed my bags down and was pointing at a car. I

knew I was right earlier, the man had been drinking. “Da–dahhh-

hhhhh,” he droned, gesturing at the car, palms open pointing. It

was an older model candy apple red Honda Accord with a sunroof

and rimmed expensive tires that cost more than my old car.

“
Boy! Have you lost your damn mind? Where is my damn

car?” I said walking up to him. Again he tried to kiss me. I moved

out of the way.

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“
This is your car!” he beamed.

“
No it ain’t.” I scoffed. “I own a blue 1973 Ford Mustang.”

“
Not no mo, I sold it to the junkyard for $75.00.”

“
You did whatttt? I know damn well your jinxy ass ain’t sold

my car!” I was all up in his face. His eyes darted to the ground as

he dug into his pocket passing me my ID with the title and regis-

tration in my name. “You went into my purse while I was asleep

and stole my ID, sold my car and bought this car?” I asked trying

to control my temper. My jaws were clinched so tight it felt like I

was going to crack my teeth. He looked away. “Why?” I asked. I

found it amazing how men could turn into little boys. He mum-

bled something about last night, and me saving his life. I could see

that I hurt his feelings, yet he tried to mask the pain with a facial

expression that returned my question with,

why can’t you accept my

gift?

Dope boys were notorious for buying college girls cars and

nice things, but as I found out, it often came with a price. I was

not trying to get involved with him, or fall into one of his traps.

My tone softened, “You have got to take this car back, you

shouldn’t have –”

“
Hope, there’s a lot of shit a nigga should not have done!” he

interrupted, taking a step back from me. This was our standoff,

but this was his world, I was just a visitor trying to get out.

“
I don’t know how I will ever be able to pay you back,” I said

with more innocence than I had intended. He took a look at my

body and smiled brightly.

“
You already did, last night, a brotha be loving that wild shit!”

That was not what I wanted to hear. Then he tried to take my

hand but I pulled away. His handsome face scowled into a look of

confession. “Um … about last night. I did not mean for it to go

that far.” He grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me up close

to him. I did not know if he was going to kiss me or hit me. His

breath was hot on my face, as hot as last night’s passion. I was

powerless to move. A couple stared as they passed by. In the dis-

tance I heard a fire truck. This closeness and energy from this man

seized me completely. If he told me to go back inside the hotel and

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take off all my clothes again so that he could make love to me, I

probably would have. Some men possess over whelming energy

that is just that power ful over women. Life Thugstin was one of

those men.

“
Hope, you cannot tell me that you didn’t enjoy last night as

much as I did.” His words seeped inside of me, nuzzling in a place

that I wanted to keep him forbidden. I attempted to speak but the

words just froze in my throat. I tried to look away, but his eyes

would not let me. They pleaded for an answer, an answer that he

and I knew the truth to. He squeezed my arm until it hurt. “I …

I … I’m engaged to someone.” My words came out on his face and

washed down on him. For a fleeting second, I swear I saw anger

in his eyes. I thought for sure he was going to knock my ass down.

He released me like I just told him I’d tested positive for some vir-

ulent plague. He reached into his pocket and handed me the keys

to the car. They were on the same key ring that my old keys were.

I walked around to the driver’s side, wishing there was something

I could say, something to comfort him. I felt like shit. As soon as

I got in the car I noticed the bags of clothes he bought me from

Macy’s. I saw an expensive Dooney and Burke purse, it was gor-

geous.

For the next half hour or so neither of us spoke, but I could

read his thoughts. He wanted me, and it shamed him. He gam-

bled on me and lost. I needed to speak my mind, for the longer

we remained silent, the more pent up frustration I felt with each

passing mile. Hell, no one told him to spend his damn money on

me! I turned to him, “What I did last night was so wrong and I’m

sorry. Things just got out of hand,” I said as I drove. I was so full

of anger that I saw veins in my hands as they clinched the steering

wheel. “I made a bad judgment … no, horrible judgment …

twice. I’m 21 years old.” He shot me a look that said what’s that

got to do with it. I continued, “I was not tr ying to take advantage

of you. I promise I’ll pay you back. How about fifty dollars a week

until I get this car paid off. Can we just be friends?”

“
Yo, check this out Shouty, all of my friends chase cats, eat shit

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and bark at the moon,” he said so coldly that I had to turn and

look in his direction. This was a side of him I had never seen

before. I watched as he casually took a cassette tape out of one of

the shopping bags and placed it into the deck. Jodeci crooned,

begging a woman to stay for a little while. The music was very

nice, melodic. I swayed into the rhythm of my emotions like Life

was using that song to talk to me.

I drove eighty five miles an hour, my mind racing, guilt rid-

den. In History I read that lust, in the form of passion or pussy,

had been known to start wars. As a young woman I was just begin-

ning to learn, a lot. A man would actually go to great lengths to

impress a woman. And I had never been sexed like that before.

Hope, can I lick you here … touch you there … it takes a thousand

strokes to please a Black woman,

I remembered him telling me. I

heard my mouth blurt out, “If you like you can call me at the sta-

tion. I host a show on campus radio. It’s called The Panther Power

Hour. We deal with issues like Affirmative Action, Police brutali-

ty –”

“
Listen, dig,” he interr upted. “I ain’t finta start nuttin wit you

I can’t finish. You don’t owe me nuttin, aight?” Then he turned

and looked at me, “Besides you wasn’t all that anyway.”

I turned up the volume so high on the stereo it sounded like

it was going to bust the speakers. He cringed and looked at me like

I was crazy. We drove the rest of the way not speaking and me still

not believing the last twenty-four hours of my life.

I finally reached Tallahassee and I drove down Tennessee

Street. There is so much human electricity in this college town

that it pulsates. You can actually feel it, like your own heartbeat,

that is if you are young, 21 years old and hungry to succeed like I

was. I was happy to be back on my old stomping grounds. Life

was looking out the window like a kid in a candy store. Women

of all ethnicities walked the streets. I pulled into the new Holiday

Inn that had just been built. Life turned and watched me. For

some reason I thought of an old saying,

penny for your thoughts

.

*****

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Chapter Five

Chapter Five

“
The Land of Milk and Honey”

–
Life –

I was watching this broad Hope, she done played a nigga like a

piano. I could see she felt like shit, guilty conscience and all. I

wanted her to marinate in it. I knew she felt bad about having to