Pointe of No Return: Giving You All I Got (10 page)

“Well you need to get out of that. You want this dick, you better come get it,” Papa told Demi.

She rolled her eyes. Demi was horny, but she couldn’t see herself going over to him and pulling his pants down.

Papa was always the one to ignite their lovemaking. He took what was “his” all the time. Demi had been anxiously awaiting him to get things started..

“Papaaaaa,” Demi whined. She wanted him to bend her over and give it to her in the worst way before he hit the streets.

***

Papa sat on Mary Jane’s couch and shared a blunt with her.

“Why you gotta burn all this different shit, mane?” Papa complained.

Mary Jane ignored him. Every time he came over the nigga had something to say, but she believed that Papa felt at peace at her house, he just couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

“Papa, shut up okay?” Mary Jane told him in the coolest tone ever.

Papa couldn’t do nothing but sit back and do as she said. He loved him some Mary Jane. She was like Naomi Campbell mixed with Erykah Badu. Mary was full of soul and she gave off positive vibes. But don’t get it twisted, Mary Jane was a straight killer and he had only heard the stories of the shit that happened in her basement. It was rumored that ever since she lost her brother she hadn’t been the same.

Mary Jane used to be everywhere and doing everything, but when her brother was found tied up in their basement with no gunshot wounds or puncture holes, Mary hadn’t been the same since.

Everything was “peace my brother” and “As-salamu alaykum”. Mary Jane did a one-eighty, but Papa still fucked with her. She was kind and respectful and although she didn’t smile that much, he knew she was a laid back chick. Mary Jane was always home and something was always cooking on her stove.

Mary Jane was a very important person in The Underworld. Nasir liked to call her the chef of the Underworld. Although Mary didn’t receive a culinary arts certification from Le Cordon Bleu, she had mastered the art of breaking it down and whipping it up. Mary Jane was sitting on tons of money working with The Underworld.

Cooking the dope was like therapy for her as weird as it sounded. Mary Jane used her job to keep her mind off the things that haunted her at night. She was caught up in finding her brother’s killer. She didn’t feel right living or even laughing, knowing his death was not avenged. If she knew who did it she would have their head on a platter along with their family, but in the meantime she smoked her weed and cooked her oxtails and burned her incense. She recently picked up two new hobbies such as playing the guitar and doing poetry, but it was just something to keep her from going crazy and she enjoyed it so far.

“Why you ain’t got no man?” Papa asked.

Mary Jane sighed. “What do you want? You’re on my nerves today, Papa,” she told him the truth.

Papa ignored her ass. He knew Mary was just mad that he hadn’t brought her some good ass weed in a long time.

“My girlfriend’s parents don’t like me, shit fucking with me,” he admitted.

“Girlfriend? The young girl? She your girlfriend now?” Mary Jane asked.

She was happy for Papa. He was so in love with the strippers that she personally felt like Demi was a good match, even though the girl was barely off her mama’s nipple.

“Yeah, I think so. Shit, might as well be,” he said, nonchalantly.

“Have you tried to talk to her parents?” Mary Jane asked.

“They didn’t even give me a chance,” he said.

Mary rolled another blunt. “They’ll come around once they see she’s taking you serious and not just some fling.”

“I don’t really give a fuck.” He had to keep telling himself that.

Mary Jane smiled. “Oh you do, you really do, Papa.”

He ignored her ass and stood to his feet. “I know your ass got some left overs.”

Papa made his way to the kitchen and pulled a plate from the cabinet. Mary Jane didn’t bother to get up because he knew his way around without her having to hover.

“Why don’t you ever go out of town with us?” Papa asked, once he returned to the couch with a plate and a bottle of water.

“For one I’m never invited, and two, I don’t like being around people.”

“You know you don’t need an invite,” he told her.

“Nah, I’m good. I work for y’all, nothing more, nothing less,” she said.

Papa didn’t want her to feel like that, but he knew Mary Jane wasn’t the only person that felt that way. He prayed that shit didn’t come back to bite them in the ass. She was one of the few people that could come into contact with them.

“Well, you good with me anytime, anyplace,” Papa told her straight up.

Mary Jane smiled at him. She appreciated the invitation, but she just liked to chill. Her club days were over. A bullet never had a name on it and she would be damned if she got caught slipping on some drunk shit.

To the outside world, Mary Jane was living off her grandmother’s insurance policy, but that money was used to pay her brownstone off. Mary Jane was sitting on some money, but she still shopped at the Goodwill and kept her hair in a long weave with a bang and during the summer she had Poetic Justice braids. She wore real gold jewelry and rings on every finger, but other than that she was a simple chick.

Mary Jane kept to herself, but Papa knew it was way more to her than she put on. He wouldn’t press her because that’s not how he rolled.

“Pass me that lighter,” she told him.

“Alright, after this one I gotta go,”’ he told her.

              He and Mary Jane had gone through his stash for today. He would move in slow motion for the rest of the day and today wasn’t the day to be bullshitting.

“How come I never met Nas?” Mary Jane asked.

Papa shrugged his shoulders. “That’s just how that nigga is. He keeps a real low profile.”

“And that doesn’t concern you?”

“Not at all,” he told her, and shot her a glance to warn her to drop the damn subject. Mary Jane was cool and all, but he would never pillow talk about his brothers.

Nasir was Nasir, Chi was Chi, Sean was Sean, and Roderick was Roderick and of course, Papa was that nigga. He didn’t question their actions or how they moved because that was their business, and as long as they stayed out of his Papa would do the same.

***

“Demi, where are you going?” Dorane asked her daughter.

Demi turned around and said, “To Papa’s house, it’s the weekend.”

Dorane told her, “No you are not. We are going to see Cleopatra at the museum tomorrow and then lunch.”

Demi took a deep breath and counted to ten. Per her mother’s request, Demi had spent the last two weekends at home with her parents, doing nothing.

Her mother swore up and down that Demi’s hips had spread since she admitted to them she was no longer a virgin. At dinner her mom moved the bread and butter from Demi’s reach and asked the chef to load her up with veggies.

Demi was craving all of her now favorite foods such as collard greens, peach cobbler and a big ol’ greasy fried pork chop.

“Ma, I am grown, okay? I stayed home the last two weeks with you. I will be back Sunday,” she said.

“Did you forget who the hell bought that car that you’re about to take to God knows where?” Dorane snapped.

“I’ll catch a cab,” Demi said and removed the car key from her key ring, and tossed it on the counter.

She continued removing everything else so her mother couldn’t continue to throw this shit in her face. Dorane did it every time Demi told her she was spending time with Papa. Dorane would complain about gas in the car, her tires being worn out because of the distance from Jersey to New York, it was always something, and Demi was growing tired of it.

Demi placed her diamond earrings, Tiffany bracelet and necklace on the counter.

“Do you want me to leave anything else? I can take my stuff out of the purse you bought and put my things into a grocery bag if you would like?” Demi said, and then smiled.

That smile; her smile. Demi had her mother’s smile, a smile that could light a room up and make a gloomy day become better. Demi’s smile used to do the trick back in the day,
Oh Lord that smile
. Dorane used to receive so many praises from people after interviews and such, all exclaiming Demi’s beautiful little smile.

But now years later, it seemed as if that same smile meant nothing to her now. Her daughter, the daughter she prayed and begged God for, the daughter that was her rightful heir stood before her being disobedient, defiant, disrespectful and a little spoiled bitch.

Dorane got to thinking of everything she had done for Demi in the past few years, every trip, every lesson, every dollar spent on making sure her daughter had the best of everything, and now for what? What good did it do? Was there any lesson that Demi remembered? Apparently not, since all of her spare time was being spent with a yellow-boned, tattooed hustler of some sort.

Demi, sweet Demi. No. Young, dumb and full of cum Demi. Dorane was filled with embarrassment as she watched her daughter walk out of the building with that sorry, pitiful nigga. She would never forget that night. And here she was standing before her as if Dorane owed her something.

SLAP!

Dorane couldn’t believe she lifted her hand and slapped the living hell out of Demi, but she didn’t regret it. In fact, Dorane felt like her child deserved the slap and now she wished she would have reared her hand back just a bit more.

The housekeeper who had been at the home since before Demi was even thought of, scurried out of the kitchen, knowing things were about to get heated.

Demi’s face turned beet red and Dorane was sure she would have a bruise later on. Demi looked at her mother with sadness in her eyes as tears streamed down her face.

“Why did you hit me?” she asked.

Aha! The little girl in her finally resurfaced, but Dorane, high off the pills she popped, was unbothered by Demi’s dramatics.

“Demi, get out of my house. Take the car and I’ll have someone come get it when I feel like it,” Dorane told her, and walked out of the kitchen.

Demi didn’t protest, argue, yell, or try to present her case, and that’s when Dorane knew, her baby girl didn’t want to be home in the first place. The look on Demi’s face was of relief, relief that she didn’t have to ask anymore, or tip-toe out the house when she thought her parents were sleeping.

Dorane went to lay down knowing she would have to explain to her husband what happened and her reason behind it.

Demi stormed out of the house and into her car, fumbling with the start button on her BMW. Eyes filled with tears and her heart heavy of emotion, she prayed she made it to her destination safely.

Her feelings were crushed and she just needed to go before her crazy ass mama came storming out of the house, demanding that she get out of the car and leave the car keys with her. Demi decided that once she calmed down she would call her daddy and talk to him.

She didn’t understand why her mother gave her an ultimatum, it wasn’t as if she was doing bad in school or her performance was low in relations to ballet.

Demi didn’t feel the need to choose between her passion and loving Papa when there was enough room on her plate for both. Her mother never gave Papa a chance, she judged him simply by what she’d seen.

Once Demi made it to Papa’s side of town, he still hadn’t answered the phone or responded to her text messages. Now was not the time to go ghost, especially when Demi had nowhere else to go, nor had she seen him in two weeks.

With no other options and not wanting to put her friends into the middle of her business, Demi went to the barbershop where she knew Papa’s uncle would be. She pulled into the first parking space she saw and cut the engine, straining her eyes to read the phone number on the window glass.

“The Shop,” Unc said happily into the phone, which warmed Demi’s heart, considering the horrible day she had.

“Hey Unc, this is Demi. Papa isn’t answering the phone and I was supposed to see him today,” she told him.

Unc thought for a second before responding. “Let me call him, where you at?” he asked.

Demi giggled, “Outside.”

Demi saw him turn around from his station and peer into the window to look for Demi’s car. Unc had grown familiar with her BMW from seeing it outside of the driveway of his house whenever she and Papa visited.

“Come on in here, girl,” Unc said, and hung the phone up.

Demi got out of the car and locked her door and sauntered into the barbershop.

All eyes were on the stallion, but she paid them no mind. Demi’s smile and big beautiful eyes were a fresh sight to see at The Barbershop. The only women that visited the Barbershop were single moms.

“Demi, come on back here, I just ordered some wings and pizza, you hungry?” Unc asked.

She told him no, but with a book in her hand she was prepared to get comfortable in his office and chill out until Papa returned her call.

“I’ll call Rob for you,” Unc told her, noticing the bruise on her face but saying nothing because it wasn’t his business, but he would be telling Papa.