Pointe of No Return: Giving You All I Got (3 page)

“Bet, bet,” he said. “Look cute for me too,” he added.

Demi blushed. 
Now why did he have to go add pressure on me, I will already be nervous
, she thought to herself. “I’ll try my hardest,” she said.

“You don’t even have to try, you do that shit effortlessly,” he praised Demi.

She smiled although he couldn’t see her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Demi, come have tea with me,” her mother yelled outside of her door.

Demi rolled her eyes. She was looking forward to sitting on the phone all night and getting to know Papa better, but she knew she wouldn’t tell her mother no.

“You got something you need to handle?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry. How long will you be up?” she asked him.

“No need for an apology, you gon’ be mines all day tomorrow. Just text me when you free,” he told her.

Demi promised to text him once she got back to her bedroom.  “Goodnight,” she told him. 

Papa was used to just hanging the phone up once he said what he needed to say. He stumbled over his words and said, “Goo-goodnight.”

“Demi!” her mother shouted her name again.

“I gotta go,” she told him and hung the phone up.

Papa tossed his phone to the side and tuned into the game. He would have his cousin braid his hair first thing in the morning. He might even slide through the mall and pick up something fresh to wear.

***

The next morning, Demi ran her miles, but skipped out on dance practice. She showered and lay back down, setting her alarm for noon. Papa had texted her before he went to sleep telling her to text him tomorrow with a time and meet-up location.

Demi called him once she woke up from her nap and his background was so loud.

“Hello,” she said into the phone.

“HOLD ON,” he yelled.

Demi moved her cell phone from her ear, that’s how loud it was.  Seconds later his background got silent.

“Yo, wassup?” Papa said.

“Hi, are we still linking up today?” she asked.

Papa told her, “Hell yeah, come get me.”

Demi didn’t think she heard him right. “Come get you?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m on my bike. I’ll send you the address then we can go from there,” he told her and hung the phone up.

Demi stared at her cell phone.
This dude just straight hung up in my face,
she thought to herself. She dressed as casual as possible, not knowing what to expect hanging with him. She wore a romper and sandals with minimal jewelry.

When she walked into the kitchen to get to the garage, her father asked, “Going somewhere, Demi?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back later,” she told him.

“You’re not going to tell me where you’re going?” her father asked.

Demi looked at him. She wasn’t a child anymore and had just graduated high school, so she could go as she pleased.

Demi flashed him an innocent smile. “See you later, Daddy,” she said and kissed his cheek, before snatching her keys out of the glass bowl her mom kept on one of the kitchen counters and leaving the house.

Her father stared at the door in disbelief. His little Demi was really growing up.

Demi pulled off in a hurry in case her mother came home early from brunch with her friends. She stopped at the gas station to fill her tank up and checked her phone. Papa had yet to send her the address.  It had been an hour since she talked to him so she called him to see what the holdup was and he sent her call to voicemail.

Demi rolled her eyes and decided to just go home. She wasn’t in the mood to play games. Once she started her car back up, her phone chimed with a message from Papa with an address.

“Where in the hell is this?” she said loudly. Demi took a deep breath. Papa better be worth the drive.

She texted him back that she was in route and pulled from the gas station. It took her so long to find him and Papa was apparently too busy to guide her through the neighborhood. He ended up tossing his cell phone to his lil cousin to help Demi because he was in the middle of an intense dice game.

When she pulled up, his cousin said that Papa would be out in a second.  Demi told her, “Tell him he has one minute or I’m leaving.” She was bluffing, but still, he needed to hurry.

Papa dusted his Balmain jeans off and dapped up a few of the homies. He pulled his snap back around so the bill of the hat could be over his low, red eyes. Papa eyed Demi’s BMW and took in the exterior of the car. It was clean as a whistle.

“Yo, who that?” someone asked Papa, as he made his way to Demi’s whip.

“Mind ya business, my nigga,” Papa told the dude and hopped in Demi’s car. She started the car immediately and pulled off.

“Damn, slow down, you don’t even know where we going, it’s a dead end this way. Turn around,” he told her.

Demi huffed and puffed. “I’m frustrated,” she admitted.

Papa looked at her.
Drama Queen
, he thought to himself. “I’ll drive ‘cause I don’t wanna hear you bitching,” he said.

Demi looked at him after reversing the car in the middle of the street. “Bitching? Excuse you,” she said.

He could never grow tired of her soft, high-pitched voice and that she looked even better than he remembered was a plus.

“You looking good too,” Papa complimented.

Demi rested her face and smiled at him, telling him thank you in a tone that told Papa she wasn’t used to hearing a nigga tell her she looked good.

“Let me drive,” he told her.

Demi pulled over back in front of the house she picked him up from and placed her car in park.

“Please don’t wreck my vehicle, my parents would kill me if they knew I had someone driving my car,” she told him nervously, as she took her seatbelt off.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he told her and got out of the car.

Demi opened her car door and got out of the car as well, pulling the romper down over her cheeks. It was a little too short for her liking.

“Damn, you short,” he said, once they were in front of each other.

Demi winked her eye and went around to the passenger seat. She heard the cat-calls and such, but it seemed as if one death look from Papa and it all ceased.

Papa pulled Demi’s seat all the way to the back and removed the gun from his waist-line and sat it under the seat. Demi tried to act like she wasn’t surprised, but the look of horror and shock couldn’t be missed.

“We good, no worries,” he told her. “What the hell you listening to?” His face frowned once he turned the radio up.

Demi let out of a slight chuckle. “Here is the AUX cord, you can change it.”

Papa played some hardcore rap that Demi’s ears screamed at, but she let him do him and enjoyed the drive.

Papa stole a few glances at her. She was looking good as hell with her oversized sunnies on her face. He could see himself kicking it with her after a long day in the trap.

“Where are we?” she asked, once they pulled into a parking lot of an establishment. Well, Demi would hardly call it an establishment, more like a hole in the wall.

“Best soul food spot in the hood!” Papa said, rubbing his stomach.

              He was higher than a motherfucker and was about to order everything on the menu, times two.

Demi held his hand as they walked over to the blue and yellow building. Papa had never held hands with anyone before, but it came naturally with Demi.

“PAPA! Who is this, she’s so pretty?” Pam, the owner of the restaurant told Papa.

“My girl, can we get that booth in the back?” he asked.

Demi looked at Papa and took his appearance in. The white t-shirt he wore was simple along with the jeans, although Demi knew they probably cost a pretty penny. He still looked comfortable.

“Yeah, sure baby,” Pam told him. Demi flashed her beautiful, wide smile and followed Papa to the booth.

“What do you normally order?” she asked.

“Shit, what I don’t order?” he laughed.

Demi decided on the baked spaghetti and corn. “May I have two lemons for my water, please?” she asked the waitress.

The waitress replied sarcastically, unbeknownst to a clueless Demi. “Sure.”  Papa would curse her ass out the next time he came in here.

“So, what were you doing in that house?” Demi asked after they placed their order.

“Shooting dice and I got my hair braided earlier,” he told her.

“You don’t think you’re too old for braids?” she asked.

Papa laughed. “You see this good ass hair? I got Indian in my blood,” he told her, pulling on his long braids and rubbing his baby hair that had curled up.

Demi shook her head. “Still too old.”

“So, what should I know about you?” she asked.

Papa gave her a mischievous look. “Hmmmm, I don’t know.”

Demi smiled at him. Papa couldn’t help but blush and he wasn’t even a blushing ass nigga, but damn she was beautiful.

His dick didn’t even get hard when he was around her. Not to say that Papa wasn’t sexually attracted to her, but he knew it would be more with her than the casual rounds of late night sex.

“I’m serious!” she told him.

“I’m just me. I’m Papa. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Fair enough.” She wouldn’t press the issue.

“What about you? You look like you got the twenty-one facts about Demi on standby,” he joked.

Demi took a bite into the cornbread muffin. Her trainer would kill her if he saw her on her second muffin, but they were so delicious.

“Well I’m eighteen, I already told you that. I’m the only child, I love to dance, write, read, cook, and travel,” she told him.

“Dance like twerk?” Papa asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Demi doubled over in laughter. “Me? No, well I can twerk, but only with my friends,” she told him.

Papa could imagine her lil young ass twerking too. Demi had a lil fatty, he peeped it earlier.

“So, what you mean dance?” he asked.

“Have you heard of Dorane Little?” she asked him. You didn’t have to be obsessed with dance to not know who Dorane Little was, she was a legend and had broke barriers for African-Americans.

“Nah, should I?” Papa asked.

“That’s my mother, she is a ballerina.”

“Like the bitch--I mean chicks that dance on their toes and shit?” Papa asked curiously.

Demi reached over and grabbed one of Papa’s fried chicken wings. She didn’t normally eat fried foods, but the food looked so good she had to taste at least one wing.

Papa liked how she felt so comfortable to take his food. Normally he would have gone off, but Demi could have whatever she wanted from him.

“Yes, well it’s called Pointe. I’m a dancer, that’s what I’m going to school for,” she told him.

“You want to be a dancer for the rest of your life?” Papa asked.

“Dancing is my life,” she told him seriously.

Papa nodded his head to show her he respected her passion. It wasn’t too often he met a girl who had something going on they were devoted to. Papa understood the look of hunger for success in her eyes. He too had that same look whenever he was handling business or counting the Benjamins. Just as Demi said dancing was her life, hustling was his.

“So, what’s next?” Demi asked once she was good and full. Demi ended up letting her seat back just as far as Papa’s chair was. That food was good as hell.

“I wanted to catch this movie, cool with you?” he asked.

Papa assumed Demi was one of those chicks that were above movie and dinner dates, but hell, he didn’t even do that with bitches so she better be grateful.

“Yes, whatever you wanna do,” she told him, smiling at him.

That smile, Papa could get used to that smile.

Demi was enjoying herself more than she thought she would.  In the movie Papa draped his arm around her shoulders and they laughed at the comedy. 

And Papa felt the same way. She wasn’t stuck up and bourgeois like he thought she would be.  

Before she knew it, the time was winding down and her mother had texted her twice asking when was she coming home.

Technically, Demi was grown and there was no school tomorrow because it was the summer time. She didn’t want to go home, and as long as she was at the ballet barre in second position by seven in the morning, she was good.

Demi enjoyed herself in Papa’s company, but she knew she had priorities and dance would always be her number one priority no matter how cute and charming Papa was. 

3

Demi was walking back from her dance studio to the house, her body drenched in sweat. Today’s practice was intense, but she loved when she pushed herself harder. Once she started at the Ballet Academy it would be a dog-eat-dog world. She knew she had to go harder than hard because there would be a hundred other females yearning for the same prize she had her eyes on.

Demi was preparing herself now to be the best she could be. While others were sleeping she was training. While people were partying she was practicing.  There were no days off or free time for Demi, she had a twenty-four seven hustle. Well, there was one exception.

Papa. Papa had come in like a wind and he knocked Demi the fuck down, the little time she had was spent with him. He constantly teased her that she was gaining weight because all they did was try new restaurants together.  Demi worked out daily so she wasn’t worried about her hour-glass figure.

Their time together was scarce, but the few times they linked up were memorable and she counted down until their next outing. Her mother was sitting in the kitchen gossiping on the phone when Demi entered the home.

“Girl, let me call you back, my child just walked into the house,” Dorane said, rushing her friend off the phone.

“How was it?” Dorane asked her daughter. Demi saw the spark in her mother’s eyes. She missed dancing so much and now lived vicariously through Demi.

“Good. I’m tired,” she told her mama.

“Well, you’re never home anymore so that’s probably why,” her mother said, matter of fact.

Demi ignored her mother and peeled a banana.

“Where have you been?” her mother asked, probing for more information.

Demi asked her mother why. It wasn’t that Papa was a secret, but she knew her parents would never approve. He was loud and obnoxious, he didn’t bite his tongue, and sometimes his humor was misconstrued for ignorance. Papa’s frame was covered in tattoos, from his hands and fingers to the middle of his eyebrows and the inside of his ears. 

Her mother would cringe as she took in his appearance. And the worst part of it was that they would judge him instantly, not even giving her a chance to do formal introductions. Her parents would write him off and Demi didn’t want that. They wouldn’t allow her to explain how kind he was to her and how he didn’t get in the way of her practicing. They wouldn’t care that he genuinely was interested in hearing about dance and watching YouTube videos with her at the restaurants while they waited on their food to come.

Papa didn’t ask her for anything and she had tried to pay for her food on several occasions, but he would flash her a look and she would quickly put her wallet away.

              Her parents would assume she was being taken advantage of and was being naïve, but it wasn’t like that. She really believed he was feeling her just as she was feeling him.

The two had shared a few innocent kisses, but nothing more than that during the past few weeks. Demi was grateful he wasn’t trying to take her fast. She was sure he knew she was a virgin by how timid she acted whenever their lips came into contact. Papa never asked for nudes or anything like that, he respected her and Demi appreciated that.

              “Demi, what the hell do you mean, why? It’s a question I expect to be answered,” her mother told her.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” she told her mother.

Dorane laughed. “Who said you were? I’m just concerned. I know you think you’re grown and stuff now, but there will still be some order around here and coming home in the middle of the night is a no-no,” she said.

Demi looked at her mother with confusion scrambled all over her face.
In the middle of the night
? She thought to herself. Her mama was so damn dramatic.

Papa normally ran the streets in the wee hours of the morning so his daytime was set to the side for Demi because he knew she didn’t like driving late at night. Their outings always ended way before midnight.

“Okay, so are you saying I have a curfew?” Demi asked.

If her mother told her yes then she would ask her father to get her an apartment, which he suggested after she graduated anyway.

“Stop being a smart ass, you never heard me mention a curfew. I just think common courtesy would be nice. It’s nothing wrong with you saying, ‘hey mom I’m with so and so I will be home later’. That’s all I’m asking, Demi.”

Demi was tired and stinky, she just wanted to go lay down so she told her mama, “Okay ma, I will start. I’m going to the movies tonight for sure and will be home before midnight,” she said, and walked out of the kitchen.

Dorane shook her head. Why in the world did her child wait until after she was technically an adult to enter the defiant stage? Demi was the perfect little girl growing up and now she wondered where her head was at.

Demi showered and lay down in her towel. She just needed a two-hour nap before she headed to the nail salon.

There was a movie out that Papa swore he had been waiting on all year, and he was looking forward to going to the Thursday night premiere tonight. Demi went online and purchased the tickets weeks ago with a bank card since Papa claimed to not have one.

She was looking forward to seeing her beau, or whatever he was, tonight. He specifically asked her to wear something sexy because he wanted to go out after dinner and the movie. It would be their first time doing something other than the norm so Demi knew she had to bring her A-Game.

***

On the other side of town, Papa was shooting the breeze with his people. Sean asked Papa, “Where you get those shoes from? I like them.”

Papa looked down at the blue suede Pumas he wore. “The mall, nigga where else?” he spat.

Malachi laughed, “Groupie.”

Sean playfully smacked Papa in the back of the head. “Watch your mouth, lil nigga.”

Papa smiled. They loved cracking jokes. Papa was the baby in the group, but no one could deny his work ethic even at the tender age of twenty-three. Hands down he was the sharpest shooter out of the bunch.

“Shit, I need to run to the crib.” Papa eyed his watch.

“What you gotta do?” Malachi asked. It wasn’t too often two or three of them were together at one time, everyone was in grind mode.

“Take a shower. I’ve been with y’all niggas all day. I got a date,” Papa boasted.

“A date? With who, Cream the stripper?” Sean asked laughing.

Everyone knew Papa loved the strippers. He loved them a bunch and they loved him back. Papa didn’t do relationships, but he would fuck you and feed you real good. Anything other than that, a woman had to search for elsewhere. Papa didn’t look at you, kiss you, or even give you a ride home. He was good for getting up and going home, or putting a girl in the back of an Uber. He just wasn’t into committing to anything or anyone other than the money.

In fact, the only female number saved in his cell phone, other than family was Demi, everyone else was identified as ten digits. Demi had his attention for right now. Papa didn’t know how long it would last, but he was definitely riding the wave.

“Yeah a date, and she bad as hell too. She coming out tonight with us,” he told the crew.

“You bringing her to the strip club and you actually like her, or y’all just fucking?” Roderick asked.

“Yeah I like her, she cool as hell,” Papa answered.

“So why would you bring her into that ratchet ass environment? I wouldn’t dare bring my girl to the strip club. Her ass gon’ be sitting at home, naked, waiting on me to get there,” Malachi said.

“You’ve brought Aaliyah to the strip club,” Papa reminded Malachi.

“My baby mama? Okay, she not important,” he said.

“So I should tell her never mind?” he asked. This was new for Papa and he trusted his brothers so he asked for advice.

“If you trust her enough, leave her at your crib until we get done turning up,” Sean suggested.

Papa knew Demi wouldn’t feel comfortable staying somewhere she wasn’t familiar with and he hadn’t even taken her to his loft yet. Hell, he hadn’t been there in a few weeks himself. Papa enjoyed having breakfast and talking shit with his uncle. He was the closest person to him and all he had.

“We aren’t that close yet,” he told them.

“Look, you can either cancel on us or drop her ass off and come have a good time, that’s on you,” Malachi said.

Papa would think about it. In the meantime, he needed to run home and shower. Demi was a very punctual person and he was picking up on her good habits.

“I’ll let y’all know,” he said as he dapped them up and headed to his car.

Papa rarely drove his Range since he preferred to ride his bike, but it was supposed to rain today and it didn’t even drizzle.

Papa showered and threw on khaki cargo pants and a green t-shirt by Burberry. He pulled a fresh pair of chucks out of the box, put a hat on, and was out the door.

Demi had already texted him that she was en route to the theatre, so he put the pedal to the floor and headed to his lil boo. Papa smiled when he saw her standing near the ticket counter.

“I already have the tickets remember, come on,” she told him.

“Good looking out, this line long as hell!” he said. Demi took his hand in hers. “I see you listened to daddy,” he joked.

She was dressed in a short dress with Gucci tennis shoes. “My heels are in the car,” she told him.

Papa didn’t tell her that the club plans were cancelled because he didn’t know what he planned to do just yet.

“You want something from the concession stand?” he asked.

“No, I’m gaining weight, I will eat at dinner.”

“You’re not gaining weight, but okay,” he said.

Once the movie was over, Demi asked, “What do you have a taste for?”

“I need to smoke before I can answer that question.”

Demi shook her head. She didn’t knock anything he did.

“Okay, soooo you want me to sit in my car until you finish?” she asked him.

“Nah, follow me to my uncle’s house and you can leave your car there.”

Demi hopped in her whip and followed him to the hood. When she parked her car behind his and walked into the small home, Demi said, “can I ask you something?”

Papa waited on her to continue as he moved around the house, turning lights on and pulling out a sack of weed from a jar that sat on the coffee table in the living room.

“I think you have money. I mean you dress nice, you always pull out wads of money, and I keep seeing you in different cars--.”

Papa cut her off and said, “But what?” He knew she had more to say, he just hoped she didn’t piss him off by saying the wrong thing.

“Why do you live with your uncle? I don’t understand,” she asked.

“Is something wrong with this house?” he pressed her. Papa knew it wasn’t the best looking home, but his uncle owned this house. There weren’t too many black people that could say they owned their home, or anything for that matter.

She shook her head. “Don’t put words in my mouth,” she told him.

“So what are you asking me?” he asked her.

“Why don’t you live alone?” Demi questioned.

Papa split the cigarillo down the middle. “Who said I don’t?” he fucked with her.

“Oh, so why are we here then?” Demi asked him.

“I don’t know if I trust you enough yet,” he told her straight up.

To say Demi was crushed would be an understatement. Here she was making plans for them to shoot down to Miami for the 4
th
of July and other little cute shit she imagined her doing with him, and he basically shot her down with his hurtful words. Demi was floored.

“Oh wow,” she told him, and plopped down in the living room chair across from Papa.

“You took that the wrong way,” he said.

“How am I supposed to take it, Papa? I don’t understand. You think I’m out to get you, or I’m like a gold digger or something?” she shot at him.

One thing Papa could say about Demi was she never cowered in his presence. She spoke her mind at all times.

“I never said that, I just said we ain’t ready for that yet. That’s not to say next week you won’t be at the crib kicking it,” he said, stuffing the blunt with weed.

“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled and pulled her cell phone out.

Papa didn’t like that. He wanted all of her attention at all times. “Put that phone up and come over here,” he commanded.

Demi took a deep breath, crossed her leg and continued doing whatever she was doing on her iPhone, as if Papa never asked her to put it up.

“Demi, you don’t hear me?” he asked.

“Oh, you trust me enough to sit close to you? I might pickpocket you,” she said sarcastically.

Papa smirked at her and sat his gun on the table.

“And that’s supposed to scare me?” she asked, looking him dead in his eyes.

Although the gesture had never been performed in front of her before, she wouldn’t dare let him know that what he just did worried her. Demi knew Papa was feeling her. Who would waste perfect time for someone they had no interest in?