Authors: Brandon Massey
Twisted Tales (9 page)
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t ask, boy.” Raheim glared at me in the rearview mirror. “I just asked the girl a simple damn question.”
I pressed back in the seat. Johnny, the subject of discussion, sat there indifferently, as if used to having his “condition” debated in front of him.
Elana paid me a thankful look, then turned to Raheim. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Is the kid a mute or something?” Raheim asked.
I wanted to disown Raheim as my brother.
“Please,” Elana said. “Can we change the subject?”
“Fine, whatever,” Raheim said. “Where’d you say you live?”
She sighed. “About five miles down the road. Not far.”
Raheim nodded. The tension drained out of the air. I wanted to reach forward and pat Elana on the shoulder, but I resorted to simply sitting back and looking out the window, avoiding Johnny, though I felt him watching me again.
What was wrong with this kid?
I felt a sting on my forearm, the telltale sensation of a mosquito bite. I raised my hand to smack the insect before it buzzed away.
But Johnny was faster.
He shot his hand forward and snared the insect between his thumb and forefinger. As I watched, stunned at his swift response, he pressed his fingers to his lips, pink tongue sliding out to capture the mosquito, and then he licked his fingertips, closed his eyes, and exhaled with obscene pleasure.
The gag reflex gripped my throat. Stifling the urge to vomit, I moved farther away from the boy, cowering against the door.
Johnny’s stomach made a squeaky, settling noise. I envisioned the crushed mosquito traveling through his digestive system. Another shudder of revulsion rocked me.
I looked at Elana. She gazed out the window, too, studiously avoiding my brother. I couldn’t understand how such a beautiful woman had given birth to such a monstrous child.
I couldn’t wait to drop him off at home.
Ten minutes later, we parked in front of Elana’s house.
It was a cozy brick ranch, sitting at the end of a narrow gravel lane. Elms and maples sheltered the house. Flowerbeds and colorful azaleas fronted her home. A vegetable garden thrived nearby, leafy green plants waving in the night breeze.
“Nice place,” I said.
“Thanks.” Elana smiled at me. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”
Gazing at the house, Johnny whined softly, like a puppy. He gnawed on his thumb. After the mosquito incident, he had been quiet and still for the rest of the drive, but now he seemed eager to return home. I was just as eager to get away from him.
“Anybody live with you and your kid?” Raheim asked, probing, I knew, for her relationship status. Not that it would stop him from pursuing her—I’d seen him hit on women who wore wedding bands.
“No. It’s just me and Johnny.”
She sounded genuinely lonely. It was hard to believe that a woman as gorgeous as her lived alone with her kid.
“You’re too fine to be single,” Raheim said. “You need a real man in your life.”
Elana laughed lightly. “Thanks for the ride home, guys. Would you like to come inside for a drink? It’s the least I can do to thank you.”
She looked at me as she finished her sentence, but Raheim responded; I was too shocked to say a word.
“A drink sounds great,” Raheim said. “Give us some time to get to know each other better.”
“Yeah,” I said, lamely.
I was shocked that Elana felt comfortable inviting us into her home. She didn’t know us; we could be escaped convicts, for all she knew. She was either really naive, or extremely friendly. I preferred to believe the latter. She was a sweetheart. She’d been looking at me often, speaking to me as if she valued my opinion, and no other woman, save my mother, had ever treated me like that. She seemed to truly like me.
But Raheim was going to get in the way. He always got what he wanted, and left me with nothing.
We climbed out of the Tahoe. Johnny allowed Elana to guide him. I was still thinking about how swiftly he had captured the mosquito. If the kid could move that fast, why was his mother helping him walk?
The question bounced around in my head.
Elana led Johnny across the walkway, to the front door. Raheim and I followed a few paces behind. Raheim’s attention was riveted on Elana’s butt so intensely I imagined her flesh must have felt hot.
Raheim spotted me looking at him looking at her, and he winked, lecherously.
If I was a stronger man, I would have punched him for his disrespect. It was one thing to admire a woman’s beauty; it was another to drool over her as if she were the main course at a dinner party. But that was Raheim for you.
Elana opened the front door and ushered her son inside. Raheim shouldered me aside and went in.
The place was even cozier inside. Warm colors, comfortable furniture, lots of green plants, and open space. I immediately felt at ease.
Apparently, Raheim did, too. He went to the sofa in the living room, plopped on the cushions, stretched his legs in front of him, and crossed his arms behind his head.
“What you got to drink?” he asked.
Elana frowned. “Well, make yourself at home, why don’t you? I’ll be back in a few minutes to get your drinks. I have to get Johnny settled first.”
As she took her son away down the dark hallway, I sat in an upholstered chair across from Raheim. I looked around, noting the numerous framed photographs that sat on end tables and hung on the walls. Photos of Elana with similarly beautiful people. They had to be her relatives; attractiveness must run in her family. Except for her son.
“Her son isn’t in any of the pictures,” I said.
Raheim shrugged. “Can you blame her? Who’d wanna take pictures of that weird-ass kid? He doesn’t look like he’s hers.”
It was a crude comment, but I agreed with his last statement. Johnny didn’t look like her flesh-and-blood child at all. Maybe she had adopted him?
“I’m gonna make a move on her,” Raheim said. He ran his fingers along the armrests, as if massaging Elana’s legs. “You can either stay in here and learn from the playa, or you can go back in the truck. Up to you.”
“We have dates,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say that might persuade Raheim to leave. “We’re already running late. Shonda and her friend will be mad at us.”
“Then go. Tell them I was sick or something, and come scoop me up in the morning.”
The thought of Raheim spending the night with Elana made me desperate.
“I’ll hang around,” I said.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Raheim said, cocking his head, “I’d think you wanted a piece of her, too. Wanna bust a nut for the first time in a dime piece like her?”
“What?”
“Come on, Scottie. I know you’re a virgin.”
“No, I’m not.” My palms had begun to sweat.
“Liar.” Raheim chuckled. “Who’ve you fucked?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Because you ain’t never had none.” Raheim laughed. “What woman would want you? You and Elana’s kid are like peas in a pod, man.”
I had grown up suffering Raheim’s merciless teasing and had developed an armor to fend off his insults—but at that moment, my defenses faltered and, I believed, deep in the core of my soul, that Raheim was right. I
was
a virgin, a few episodes of awkward, heavy petting being the extent of my sexual experience. I had never had a serious girlfriend. Virtually all of the women that I encountered designated me as “just a friend.”
was
a virgin, a few episodes of awkward, heavy petting being the extent of my sexual experience. I had never had a serious girlfriend. Virtually all of the women that I encountered designated me as “just a friend.”
What woman would want you?
Tears pushed at my eyes. I could not cry,
would not
cry, not in front of Raheim, not in Elana’s house. Giving in to tears would make my humiliation complete—and Raheim would never let me forget it. He still teased me about the time I’d wet the bed when I was six years old. He had a flawless memory for stuff like that.
would not
cry, not in front of Raheim, not in Elana’s house. Giving in to tears would make my humiliation complete—and Raheim would never let me forget it. He still teased me about the time I’d wet the bed when I was six years old. He had a flawless memory for stuff like that.
I sucked in a shaky breath.
“I’m fine the way I am,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster. I didn’t know if I believed what I was saying, but I wanted to sound as if I did.
“Whatever, man.” Unconvinced, Raheim waved his hand dismissively. “All I know is you better stay outta my way.”
Elana strode into the living room. She had refreshed her red lipstick and brushed her hair. Fixed herself up. I wanted to believe that she’d done it for me.
“Sorry that took so long, guys,” she said. “What would you like to drink? I have tea, coffee, Coke, water ...”
“A Coke would be great,” I said.
“Got any beer?” Raheim asked.
Bunching her hands on her waist, Elana frowned. “Hmmm ... I think there might be a couple bottles leftover from a cookout I hosted a few months ago.”
“Will you check, sweetheart?” Raheim asked, in a too-familiar tone that rankled me. “I’d like that.”
“Be right back,” she said. She headed toward the kitchen, swinging her hips.
Watching her, Raheim shook his head and rose. “I can’t wait any longer. Time to do the damn thing. She owes me more than a drink for all my help.”
“Where are you going?” I stood, too.
“Sit down and watch cartoons or something,” Raheim said. He hitched up his jeans and strolled toward the kitchen.
Anxiety clutched me. My brother was going to be alone, in close quarters, with Elana. I could feel my chances with her—whatever slim chances I had—slipping away.
But I sat down, like an obedient little brother.
I heard their voices drift to me from the kitchen. Raheim was talking in his smooth, playa patter. Elana was laughing and responding to him, but there seemed to be an undercurrent of tension in her voice.
She wasn’t interested in Raheim, I thought. She was interested in me. But I’d been too afraid to make a move.
I cracked my knuckles. A remote control for the television sat within easy reach, but I didn’t turn on the TV, for fear of missing something that was said in the kitchen.
When Elana clearly said, “Stop,” I rose again. My heart throbbed.
There are some things that I’ve done of which the memories, years later, still shame me. One evening when Raheim and I were teenagers, we had the house to ourselves, our parents out for one of their “date nights.” Never one to waste an opportunity, Raheim invited over a girl that he knew, a cute cheerleader who’d had a crush on him for years. While I sat in my bedroom reading an
X-Men
comic, I heard Raheim in his room, tussling with the girl. At some point, she said, clearly and firmly, “No, Raheim. Stop.”
X-Men
comic, I heard Raheim in his room, tussling with the girl. At some point, she said, clearly and firmly, “No, Raheim. Stop.”
I’d sat still, clutching the pages of the comic book, knowing that I should knock on Raheim’s door and intervene.
But I did nothing.
The girl cried out, repeatedly. Raheim’s headboard began to thump against the wall. The girl’s cries faded. When she left the house some time later, her eyes were red, and she didn’t hug Raheim good-bye.
I knew what had happened. But I didn’t say anything to Raheim, or anyone else.
I’d always regretted my behavior, my unspoken compliance with my big brother.
Standing in the living room of this sweet woman’s house, listening to her tell my brother “stop,” I made a decision: This time, I wasn’t going to back down. I was going to help her.
I swallowed. I marched across the living room, toward the kitchen.
As I walked, I spotted Johnny in the hallway, swathed in darkness. He wore Spiderman pajamas; I had a pair like that when I was his age. He had a hungry look in his eyes—the same predatory glare I’d seen when he devoured the mosquito.
“I’m going to stop him,” I said.
Johnny didn’t say anything, and I wondered why I had spoken to him at all. I suppose I wanted to reassure him that his mother would be okay.
Johnny clenched his small hands into fists. He no longer wore the gloves. His fingers were thin, his nails long and, oddly, quite sharp.
Johnny was tense, but he made no move to follow me. He must have believed that I was going to save his mother.
Now I couldn’t back down.
I squeezed my hands into fists, too, and then I stalked into the kitchen.
Raheim had wedged Elana into a corner, between the sink and the stovetop. He pawed her hips with one of his big hands, and roughly stroked her hair with his other. She was squirming, to no avail, to escape the circle of his arms. A bottle of Budweiser stood on the counter beside them, frothy suds oozing down the neck.
Raheim didn’t hear me enter, but Elana saw me. Hope bloomed in her eyes. As I realized that she believed in me, thought I could help her, my resolve strengthened.
“Get away from her, Raheim,” I said. “She told you to stop.”
Other books
Daddy's Surprise by Lexi Hunt
The Snow Queen by Joan D. Vinge
Shadows of War by Larry Bond
CyberStorm by Matthew Mather
The First True Lie: A Novel by Mander, Marina
New Species 11 True by Laurann Dohner
Whitechapel by Bryan Lightbody
Texas Pride: Night Riders by Greenwood, Leigh
Tortoise Soup by Jessica Speart
Happy Family by Tracy Barone