A Deeper Love Inside (53 page)

“I know,” was all he said.

“Let me wash it for you.” I turned to go and get it.

“Just leave it there. Are you on your period?” he asked me strangely.

“No.” I smiled. “How come you asked me that?” Instinctively, I pulled the tee and placed my nose inside and inhaled. He smiled at me for being insecure.

“Let’s go. Thanks for cooking our breakfast. No one could front on that.”

• • •

I was stupidly prepared to ride the bus or catch the train, but Elisha’s driver pulled around in a Crown Vic. He opened the door for me. I got in.

“Where are we headed?”

“The Four Seasons Hotel in the city.”

“We’ll get your things and check out of there,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreeded.

“You look pretty,” he said.

“In Sheba’s clothes!” I asked.

“In anything,” he said. “What room are you in?”

“Suite 1111; I requested that room, that number. When I first checked in, they said that suite wasn’t ready. I sat in the lobby three hours waiting for it.”

“That’s crazy,” he said.

“Elisha, you don’t ride the bus no more?” I asked him.

“Of course, but these drivers are on call and as directed all week because of the film premier. They’ll drive us down to DC tonight,” he said casually.

“Washington, DC?”

“Yeah, I gotta gig at Howard University. Sheba graduated from
there. Some students will watch the flick after dinner tonight, and me and my band will play at their afterparty.”

“You gotta whole band now?” I asked him.

“You know I gotta play my music. But I’m not taking you to the party,” he said like it wasn’t nothing. I didn’t say anything, but I felt a little sad that I wasn’t invited.

“I’m taking Siri. Maybe she’ll sing something if I strum the strings right.”

“It’s up to her,” I said. “Elisha, when we get to the hotel can you give me fifteen minutes to clean my room before you come in?”

“Definitely not,” he said. “You know me. I wanna see how you was living.”

• • •

“My man!” the valet said when the driver opended our car door and Elisha stepped out. Then the fellas that usually sweat me every morning, watching my hips sway, were now sweating Elisha.

“I checked your flick last night on Church and Flatbush, at the Kenmore.”

“How was it?” Elisha said.

“Place was packed. You got the whole Brooklyn behind you.”

“Elisha, I’ll be back.” I took the opportunity to run through the hotel doors and straight to the elevator. I was gonna try and fix up my room.

Upstairs, as I fumbled through my red Epi Leather bag looking for my wallet, which contained my room key. I broke a little sweat in the air-conditioned corridor. My bag was red, my wallet is red, my Converses are red, and the red do not disturb sign was glaring just as I left it days ago. I found the key.

Dropping everything, I ran to the back bedroom and gathered up my Victoria’s Secrets, which I had in every color, flung everywhere. I pulled out my empty Louis luggage, opened it, and began assembling my lingerie inside. In the bathroom I began collecting all of my carefully selected personal items. I never used the ones the hotels all around the world supplied. As I rushed around I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

“Why are you panicking now?” I asked myself aloud. But I didn’t
know the answer. I put all of the lotions, oils, and creams in my leather waterproof case, and put the case inside of my saddlebag. A thought shot through my mind. I ran to the vault. I typed in 0726, my birthdate, and the vault door swung open. The program for Momma’s wake was the first thing I saw. My eyes moved over Momma’s photo. I stood stuck for some seconds.

“C’mon,” Siri said. Then I collected the remaining stack of papers from the vault, including my passport, which listed me as Onatah Rivers, my driver’s permit that listed me as Penelope Sharp, my vehicle registration and insurance papers, which listed Mr. Sharp’s name and Penelope’s. My release and discharge papers from Kennedy-Claus Hospital, my New York State identification card, and my Social Security card, all brand new, all listing me as Porsche Santiaga. I also had my Lufthansa Airline ticket stubs, postcards, flyers and advertisement cards written in foreign languages, inviting guests to see my solo dance performances. I had one envelope containing the last letter that I had written to Elisha, but never mailed after receiving the news of Momma’s death. I pulled it all out, then realized I left the handbag I carried today back in the living room. I wanted to run and get it, but decided I better breathe before I collapsed in the closet where I was standing, next to the vault. I inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, and exhaled.

Siri said, “You’re panicking because this is the part where Elisha mixes with all the other parts of our lives. But, Porsche, you should know by now, Elisha loves us. Everything is okay. It’s better than okay. It’s good. It’s perfect,” she said and her voice was sweet and calming.

When I stepped out of the closet, Elisha was standing there in my bedroom, where I had been staying for three weeks now.

“I’ll get you a house cleaner,” Elisha said, smiling. “What kind of hurricane happened in here?” he joked.

“I asked you to give me fifteen minutes,” I said.

“You needed fifteen hours,” he said calmy.

“Don’t call housekeeping, please. I don’t want them touching my stuff.”

“They already told me you’re stuck up,” Elisha said, teasing.

“I’m not!” I said.

“They said you don’t talk to anybody, you always keep your Do Not Disturb sign on. You make them leave your room service food outside your door, but you don’t eat it anyway. They said you don’t get no visitors, but you talk to yourself when you’re walking through the lobby.”

I just looked at Elisha, my hands clutching my papers.

“I like that,” Elisha said.

“Like what?” I asked.

“What would I have done if they said something different about you? Probably gotten into a brawl and got sued. You know people want to get knocked out by a celebrity. Every punch is worth at least ten thousand dollars.”

Finally, I smiled. I like the idea of Elisha knocking somebody out to defend me.

“That’s not all. My man the valet said you push a mean rimmed-out, black 600 Benz with custom-made red leather interior and an AMG kit. The guy started to tell me how much it cost. I told him I know exactly how much it cost . . .”

“It’s Momma’s car . . .,” I said softly.

“But you bought it,” he said seriously.

“True,” I confirmed.

“What you got in your hands?” he asked.

“Personal papers,” I said.

“Let me see ’em,” he said.

“Why, are you the police?” I asked.

“No, I’m your man. Give in to me.”

• • •

After we talked frighteningly honestly, seated on the floor in the hotel bedroom for a couple of hours, our emotions were stirring. Telling all the truths I could tell was like vomiting, without the stinky stench
and mess. As I sorted out each truth for Elisha, it was the same as me sorting out each truth for myself. He wiped my tears with his fingers. In a room piled high with brand-new shoes and kicks, designer dresses and handbags, shoe boxes and shopping bags, we sat on the floor next to my scattered documents, which I nervously shared with him.

He kissed me; my heart started speeding. We were touching and tonguing.

“Elisha . . .”

“What, woman? You talk a lot.”

“This morning when I woke up, my pussy was pounding. I never felt that same kind of strong feeling before. It was so powerful, even though you were asleep and not even touching me. It made me feel crazy.” He kissed me again.

“It’s just gonna keep getting stronger and stronger,” he said, squeezing my nipples.

“I think I like you too much,” I said softly. He raised Sheba’s T-shirt over my head.

“You’re supposed to,” he said, unsnapping the clasp of my bra too easily. My full breasts popped out, the nipples rising right before both of our eyes.

“I might be a little scared,” I said honestly as he pulled Sheba’s jeans down from around my hips.

“Scared of what?” he said as he stroked my pussy through the thin panty. I began breathing heavy. I didn’t give an answer to his question. “You can’t front on that,” he said, his lips pressed against my left ear as he pushed inside of me. Both naked all over again, I felt myself falling and cumming, falling further and cumming more. I was drowning and afraid of the overwhelming feeling and my complete loss of control. But it was a feeling I wouldn’t trade for any other feeling in the world.

• • •

“Feathers, sequins, masks, glasses, hats, what is all this?” Elisha asked. We were finishing the last bit of packing, emptying the living room closets where my show outfits hung, nicely packed inside of dress bags, while the accessories were piled on a top shelf.

“Costumes,” I told him.

“Costumes,” he repeated, unzipping one hanger bag, revealing a dress a crafty Native made for me from sterling silver and turquoise. “That’s an incredible design. You wore this?”

“On stage,” I said.

“It must’ve been heavy,” he said. “And it’s see-through. You wore something underneath the dress, right?” he asked. I couldn’t lie to him.

“I didn’t, but the turquoise parts cover all of my private spaces. I can show you,” I said. He stood staring, maybe imagining.

“I told you I’m a dancer,” I said so quietly, without an ounce of brag in it. “Not a fucking stripper or a stuck-up ballerina, and no one touches me,” I explained softly again, but I had already shared that world with him in many of my letters. He just never saw it up close and in person like how he was seeing my costumes up close now. After now knowing my body more than he ever did before, and after just pulling himself from between my thighs and peeling himself off of my curves. I could see that he was also in deep. “Put it on and show me your dance,” he said.

“Nope, you don’t wanna see it,” I said softly. I realized I had just offered to show him. But something suddenly told me that I shouldn’t.

“No, you don’t want to show me,” he said.

• • •

In the limo just us two, followed by a caravan of hired cars and trucks, we were rolling to DC, a three-hour trip from New York, in a fast ride.

“Elisha, what does
enchanting
mean?” I asked.

“Let me see.” He was thinking.

“Having a magical influence over one or more people,” he defined as I sat thinking about what Sheba was saying to me this morning.

“Use it in a sentence,” I requested.

“Her pull on her man was so strong, people thought he was enchanted.”

“I understand,” I said.

“How about
patriarchy
, what does that mean?”

“It means the man, husband, father, brother, or sons are the bosses of the house, or the men are the bosses of the hood, the state, the country. What he says rules,” Elisha carefully explained.

“Use it in a sentence,” I asked him.

“If a house and the community are set up right, there will always be a patriarchy,” he said. We laughed.

“So if a woman has enchanted her man, is he still the patriarch?” I asked.

“Yep,” was all he said.

“Prove it!” I said. He paused at first, delighted by the test.

“A true patriarch doesn’t have to keep saying
I’m the boss. I’m the boss
. He lets the women talk and cry cause that what they do. If he loves his women and his daughters too much, even an enchanting one, it doesn’t take away from his power or position. He protects and provides for his women, handles the business, and makes them moan!” We laughed. “And gives them babies, so they can have something to focus on instead of getting themselves into trouble.”

“So why was the girl yelling about patriarchy at NYU the other night.”

“She’s out of order.” We laughed again. “Someone needs to tell her that the Earth—that’s you—revolves around the sun. That’s me.”

Chapter 50

Since being locked up, I never had seen so many girls in one place. But these girls were not prisoners. They were relaxed and free. They were pretty, of every shade of skin, and type and style of hair. They walked confidently. We were “on the campus of Howard University,” Sheba said.

“When I went to school here, there were seventeen female students to every one male student,” Sheba said. “Talk about competition!” She was guiding us around. It was me and the girls from Elisha’s staff and film, which of course included Audrey.

“Usually out here on the yard, on a Saturday night like tonight, the fraternities and sororities would be stepping. It’s really a fun and amazing thing to see.”

“Stepping?” I asked. “Is that dance?”

“You could definitely call it a kind of dance,” she said, which made me curious.

“Sheba, did you dance?” I asked.

“You have to be a member to step,” she said. “And yes, I stepped. I’m a Delta.”

“A Delta?” I asked.

“Delta Sigma Theta; it’s a sisterhood, a sorority,” she explained.

“How do you have any sisterhood with seventeen women to every one man?” Audrey asked. “Sounds like a fucking fight.”

• • •

Shoulder to shoulder in a packed college hall, Elisha had a thousand women, and one hundred seventy men, mesmerized by his rendition of a Carlos Santana joint. Showing off, he played two guitars in one performance, the acoustic and the electric. It didn’t hurt that he was tall and handsome and that whatever he did and wherever he went everyone could see him shining. On his guitar he was more than good. His fingers were comfortable and swift. His strumming moved many hearts, especially mine. As he stood in the darkened hall beneath the
glowing spotlight, him and his band, I asked myself,
Are you ready to handle this man who every girl of every type seems to desire?
I even was asking myself, what had I done to win his heart so solidly?

“What made you come back?” a voice to the left asked me. I looked over my shoulder. It was Audrey.

“My momma died. So, I had to come back to Brooklyn.”

“I wish she would of lived,” Audrey said, and I felt myself getting red real quick. I saw myself slapping the shit out of her. I saw the old Porsche stabbing her in her side or punching her dead in her face, but I didn’t. I didn’t like the slick shit she was saying, she wished Momma would of lived. I wish Momma would of lived, too, but I knew that’s not what she meant. And what if I beat Audrey’s ass and then had to explain to Elisha or anyone that I beat her because she wished my mother would’ve lived? The twist of her tongue and words would’ve made me seem crazy. Instead, I turned to her and forced up a smile.