Double Dippin' (21 page)

They lay together for a while, breathing hard and smiling at each other. Giving Shane a look of pure adoration, Paula wiped the perspiration from his brow.

“Damn, baby. Whassup? You tryin’ to turn me out or something?” Shane asked, with his lips poked out, and furrowed brow.

“Turn you out? What about poor me?” she asked with a chuckle. “I’m beyond turned out; I’m a lost cause. I’m done. You got me, Shane; you own this pussy. It’s going to be real hard to get rid of me.”

Shane smiled knowingly. The night had turned out just as he’d wanted. “I should turn off the recorder and put it away; we don’t want to leave that around. Where should I put it?”

“You’re so thoughtful…so considerate. So sweet.” She sat up and hugged
him tight and gave him another passionate kiss. “Put it in the closet in the basement,” she said, and then collapsed happily onto the pillow. There was a smile plastered on her face. She looked like she had died and gone to heaven.

When Shane returned to the bedroom, Paula was asleep, which was his queue to start pillaging. He rifled through her purse and bureau drawers, then snooped inside the bedroom closet. He poked around the top of the shelf, searching for valuables that might be secreted inside or behind several hat boxes.

He pocketed three gold and diamond bracelets. Inside the bureau drawers were so many glimmering items, Shane considering going downstairs to look for a shopping bag. He went downstairs to her kitchen and came back with a large department store bag with handles. Shane emptied out Paula’s husband’s jewelry drawer, which contained two diamond rings and several expensive-looking watches, and a thick wad of cash was stashed inside a tin can. Shane stuffed the money into his pocket without counting it. Next, he added Paula’s jewelry to the shopping bag. He gazed at her, wondering if he could work her wedding rings off her fingers without waking her up.

He screwed up his lips in thought, but decided against that idea. Instead he ransacked another pocketbook, which was dangling on the handle of the closet door. The pocketbook was empty. Shane felt along the pocketbook’s satin lining and found several secret places with green folding money inside. He promptly tucked the cash inside his other pants pocket.

Shane tiptoed down the stairs and picked up the camcorder he’d hidden behind a flower pot. Like the thief that he was, Shane exited quietly into the night.

There was a little over five hundred dollars in cash extracted from Paula’s two pocketbooks; seven hundred was taken from her husband’s bureau drawer.

Shane bought a half-ounce of weed and a couple bags of blow from a street-corner hustler. He bought ten blunts from an A Plus mini market and took a cab to a motel near the airport on Island Avenue.

Once settled inside the motel, he turned off his cell phone so he could party alone; he wanted peace and quiet for the remainder of the night. Misty and Brick would be aiight, they could get through one night without his company.

The next day, instead of getting in touch with Misty and Brick, Shane had
his twin on his mind. He turned on his cell and punched in Tariq’s number. He twisted his lips in annoyance when Janelle answered the phone.

“Can I speak to Tariq?” he said, his voice low and sullen.

“He’s at work,” she said, speaking in a hostile tone.

“What’s the number at his job?”

Janelle sighed loudly, but gave Shane the number.

Shane called Tariq at McDonald’s and arranged to meet him on his break.

“Whassup, man. What brings you out in the daylight hours? You know you’re like a vampire; you don’t usually come out until it’s dark,” Tariq said, grinning broadly when Shane arrived.

“You was on my mind, man. Pressing hard. Strong. Whassup witchu? You aiight?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m straight,” Tariq said, nodding his head reassuringly. “Been thinking about you, too.”

“Yeah? I’m not surprised…you know how we do.” Shane chuckled. “Yo, I been meaning to ask you something.”

“Whassup?” Tariq tilted his head.

“Whatever happened to Miz Holmes?”

“You didn’t hear about what happened?”

“No, what happened to her?”

“Shane,” Tariq said softly. “They said she was molesting you.” Tariq lowered his head.

Shane let out a loud guffaw; he stomped his feet as his body rocked with laughter. “Who said that shit? How the fuck that old drunk gon’ molest me? Eeow, now that’s a nasty-ass thought.” Shane wrinkled his face in disgust.

“Well, why didn’t you speak up? They locked Miz Holmes up. LaDonna’s mom, too.” A shadow fell over Tariq’s face. “At least that’s what Shiree said in a letter she wrote me while I was at The Children’s House.”

“Miz Holmes started drinkin’ all the time; I don’t know how she caught them charges,” Shane said, pleading innocent. “She probably said something dumb while she was drunk. You know she stopped making sense long before you got sent to the Children’s Home. But I think LaDonna’s boyfriend, Easy, set up her mom. He probably blamed her for letting me come over to see LaDonna.”

Tariq nodded. “Yeah, he probably found out about you and LaDonna and wanted to get some kind of revenge.”

“How much time did they get; do you know?”

“Man, I really don’t know. But I heard Miz Holmes is out and living in some boarding home near that church she used to drag us to. I wanted to go see her because she was so nice to us, but I was just too embarrassed after everything that happened. Shiree said LaDonna’s mom only had to do a couple months. She said it seems like Miss Goldie bounced right back.” A worried scowl formed on Tariq’s face. “You should stay away from Southwest, man. You probably got a lot of enemies around there,” he cautioned Shane.

“I ain’t worried ’bout no Southwest niggas.” Shane patted his side pocket, indicating he was carrying a gun. “I got my burner, man. Southwest don’t want no trouble from me, I’ll blast them pussies in a heartbeat,” Shane said with much bravado. “By the way, did you ever fuck Shiree?” Shane asked, wearing a devilish smile.

Tariq blushed. “No, it wasn’t like that with her.” Tariq drifted off in thought. “Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “I asked the social worker about Miz Holmes and she said you testified against her, but they didn’t call on me because I was in therapy. Plus, she said I’d been through enough and testifying in court might be too much for me. I told her I didn’t have nothing to testify about because I didn’t know what they were talking about.” Tariq looked at Shane and sighed. “Is that true? Did you go to court and testify against Miz Holmes and LaDonna’s mom?”

Shane turned up his top lip in bitter denial. “That social worker’s full of shit. Yeah, I went to court but it was on some trumped-up charges against me. I told you those cops put those drugs on me.” Shane frowned at the memory of being falsely accused. “So what did you say about therapy?”

“They thought I was depressed. I guess I was feelin’ a little sorry for myself. You know, everything happened so fast. The social worker was at our house; me and Miz Holmes were waiting for you. That social worker could tell Miz Holmes was drunk and the next thing I know, they took me back to the Children’s Home…without you. We were together again for just a hot second before you got sent away for three years.” Tariq sighed.

“I knew you was goin’ through it; but there wasn’t nothin’ I could do. I tried
to call you, but I didn’t even know where you was at first. Then when I found out, there was all this red tape between the city and the state.”

“I know. I went through it, too. The social worker was trying to act like she was trying to help, but she really wasn’t doing nothing. That had to be the worst time of my life, man.”

“Mine too, man. Mine, too.” Shane hugged his brother. It was a tight and emotional embrace. Shane released Tariq and did the only thing he could do to make himself feel better. “Here you go, man.” Shane gave Tariq three hundred dollars.

“What’s this?” Tariq asked, looking at the money with a confused expression. “You just gave me money, Shane. I can’t keep taking money from you.”

“I always share whatever I have with you, ain’t nothin’ changed. I know it’s got to be hard on y’all with you being the only one workin’.”

“Janelle’s getting ready to come back to work,” Tariq said in his wife’s defense. “But man…I feel bad taking more money from you when you ain’t even set up in your own place. You probably could have used that five hundred on getting yourself an apartment…”

“That wasn’t just from me. That was a gift from me and my crew. I’m cool, man. I’m hooking up a crib right now. But look, dawg, I’m real proud of you,” Shane said, grinning. “You’re somebody’s pop. Now that’s whassup. You the muthafuckin’ man, Tariq. That’s real rap.”

Feeling proud but also self-conscious, Tariq smiled and cast his eyes toward the ground.

“Look, little bro, what’s mine is yours and I know what’s yours is mine. That little rough patch we went through wasn’t about shit. I knew I was gonna make that shit right, but I couldn’t do nothin’ about it while I was locked up.”

Tariq looked near tears. “I can’t believe I treated you like that. My own brother; I’m so sorry, Shane.”

“That’s the power of the pussy, man. I knew what was up. Just don’t let that broad chump you like that no more. You gotta control the pussy; you can’t let it control you. Remember that, aiight?” He patted Tariq’s back. “I gotchu, man. I got your back.”

With those words ringing in his ears and an extra three hundred dollars in
his pocket, Tariq returned to work feeling loved and secure. It was good to not feel afraid, which was how he’d felt ever since his son had been born. Afraid that he’d fail as a provider, as a father, as a husband, afraid he’d fail as a man.

With his true other half back in his life, he felt like a total person instead of like half a man.

2002

T
he exchange between him and his brother had Shane feeling emotional and in need of something that was hard to find. Getting high and raising hell with Brick and Misty would not soothe him tonight.

Shane thought about a girl he’d met a few days before, a pretty Puerto Rican named Valencia. Valencia was hot and he had every intention of getting with her…but not tonight.

He couldn’t define what he was feeling; it was a carnal urge—a yearning that he couldn’t begin to analyze, but recognized as being absurd. Without allowing himself to be motivated by conscious thoughts that would deter him, Shane simply hailed a cab and hopped in. Seated comfortably in the back, he told the driver where he wanted to go. “Forty-Second and Wyalusing,” Shane said, knowing there was no turning back.

“Forty-Second and Wyalusing,” the driver confirmed.

“Yeah.” Shane kept his eyes closed throughout the cab ride. When they reached his destination, Shane got out of the cab, paid the driver and looked over at the church. His lips curved into a satisfied smile. There was no church activity going on and therefore no prying eyes that might recognize him.

He trotted up the stairs to the boarding home and rang the bell. An old woman peeked through the peephole. “Whatchu want?” the woman yelled.

“I came to see my mother.”

“Who’s your mother?” the old woman wanted to know.

“Miz Holmes, but don’t tell her. It’s a surprise. I’ve been over in Iraq; I just got home.”

The elderly woman smiled and nodded in approval as she started unlocking the multiple locks on the door.

The boarding home held a musky odor that Shane associated with old people, but he wouldn’t be deterred by an unpleasant scent. “Which room?” he asked in an excited whisper.

“Upstairs. First room on the left,” the woman also spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.

Shane climbed the stairs. He knocked on the door softly. “Who is it?” asked a familiar female voice.

“It’s me, Mom. Open the door.”

The door opened instantly. His foster mother, Dolores Holmes, stood wearing a printed housedress, eyes widened. Blinking back tears, she opened her arms to Shane. “My boy,” she cried. “My boy.”

Shane fell into her embrace. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, his voice pained. “I didn’t know it would end up like that.”

“I know, honey pie,” she said, patting him. “I prayed for you every day.” She let him go and wobbled over to the sofa. The years had not been kind and she had gained a tremendous amount of weight.

Exhausted from the walk to the sofa, Ms. Holmes gasped for breath. Shane sat next to her and tenderly rubbed her back while she tried to catch her breath.

“You had a nice house, Mom. This ain’t right. I’m gonna get you out of here.” He set his chin firmly, impressing the sincerity of his words upon her.

“It’s all right. I’m grateful for what the church does for me. They never believed that I was a fallen woman; they blamed everything on you. But I told them the real culprit was Satan. He had a hold on me and you.”

“I never thought about it like that. You think it was the devil?”

“Oh yes. He’s always busy.”

“And you never blamed me?”

“Never. We were both under his power. I tried to fight it but it wasn’t nothing I could do. But he done loosened his grip off me now. I don’t drink no more of them evil spirits. I’m back in good standing with the church.”

“But what about me, Mom? I need you. You gon’ turn your back on me?”

Ms. Holmes closed her eyes and mumbled a prayer. “You almost grown.
You don’t need me no more.” Ms. Holmes shut her eyes again and shook her head determinedly. “No, you don’t need me no more.”

“Yes I do,” he shouted. “You the only mother I ever had.”

She rested her head on the back of the sofa and pondered his words.

“I guess some things are just unexplainable. And when I meet my Maker, He can tell me if I did wrong. But I don’t think so. I never had no kids and you lost your mother. The good Lord put us together but it was Satan that got everything all confused.”

“What’s done is done, Mom. We can’t change it. You say I’m almost grown and that might be true but I still need you to be my mom.” He started crying, mournful sobs that would not stop.

Ms. Holmes sighed in resignation and pulled Shane’s head to her bosom and began to smooth the back of his curly hair. Still weeping, Shane began unbuttoning her blouse. With her chest exposed, he opened his mouth wide as his lips went from one huge breast to the other, licking and slobbering as he desperately sought solace, satisfaction. Redemption.