Every Woman Needs a Wife (13 page)

She sat demurely, watching the soft curve of his lips, the strong jut of his nose, and the bushy eyebrows that hovered above smoldering eyes that made her melt anytime he looked her way.

As he turned down Torrence Avenue, the music made conversation impossible. She didn’t even try. She beamed like a girl who’d won the prize trophy in a dance contest. They passed the airplane wing of their school. C.V.S. would be missing at least two students—a senior and a freshman—that day. With more than five thousand students, no one would notice.

Several minutes later, the town homes and duplexes gave way to newly constructed houses. Further on they passed empty, abandoned houses
and even more vacant lots with grass that hadn’t seen a lawn mower since they’d been invented. He slowed down on a block where paint hadn’t touched the houses for years. She had been so happy just to be with him, she didn’t even know where he was taking her.

Hollywood pulled to the curb in front of a ranch home. She felt another stab of disappointment. The gutter was barely attached to the house. Dirt filled places where grass should’ve been and the concrete steps were chipped, exposing the round rocks underneath. The silver chain-link fence had missing panels and a broken gate. Down the street boys and men sat on their porches, blasting music, drinking, smoking cigarettes and, if her nose told her correctly, probably something else.

A shiver sliced through her body as Hollywood switched off the ignition. She glanced at him nervously. “What’s this place?”

He smirked. “My crib.”

“I’ll…um, wait here for you.”

“No, you’re coming in,” he said in a short, snappy tone that didn’t leave room for an argument.

She hesitated and finally said, “Okay, I have to change clothes anyway.”

Hollywood smiled slyly, eyes scanning her body as though he just noticed her for the first time. “Whatever.”

The door slammed, making Brandi wince. Strolling in front of the car, hands deep in his pockets, he headed for the crumbling steps.

She waited. Hoping.

He turned to face her and shrugged. “Come on.”

Brandi grimaced before joining him. His baggy jeans and light blue Fat Albert T-shirt draped his medium-built body just right.

“You could’ve opened the door for me,” she said in a voice so small she didn’t recognize it as hers.

“What’s wrong with your hands?”

She shrugged, lowering her eyes. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Bad boy to the core. Nice guys didn’t usually appeal to her, but right now a nice one would do her just fine.

He used a small silver key to open the door.

She swallowed hard, gathering courage to ask, “Why are we here? I thought we were going out to eat and go downtown.”

His lips broke into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Later. There’s something we need to do first.”

Brandi clutched her bag as though the canvas covering her textbooks would keep her safe. Would he keep his promise? Why did she already feel he wouldn’t?

She stepped through the old wooden door that barely hung on its hinges. The smell of burnt popcorn, greasy fried chicken, cigarettes, and liquor assaulted her nose like a defensive end tackling a quarterback at the goal line. Hollywood’s long legs kicked dirty clothes, broken toys, and food wrappings out of the way. The ragged tan carpet had seen better days. Moving into the house, she tried to hold her breath. Someone had forgotten to take the garbage out—years ago. How could people live like this?

Dried food on the wall near the living room entrance made Brandi’s stomach sink. A wave of nausea threatened to dislodge her breakfast. They passed an old tattered sofa with a man sprawled out on the right side snoring, television remote dangling from his hands. This house needed more than a housekeeper; it needed to be blown off the map.

There was a wide-screen television and plenty of records, but no one could pick up a broom, vacuum, or mop? Or spray some Lysol in this camp? Man!

When she reached the hallway, she stood as unmoving as a DuSable Museum statue. To her left was a bedroom. Eight people—two boys and six girls, all naked—sprawled across a mattress on the floor as though someone had pitched them in and left them. She could only imagine what had happened the night before. Even more people slept on a mattress on the floor of another bedroom to her right. Some of the girls looked about her age. Didn’t they go to school?

Whoa! Didn’t she have a lot of nerve? She wasn’t where she was supposed to be, either. Now she wished her behind was firmly planted in Mr. Fisher’s history class soaking up information on the Civil Rights Movement instead of walking through a battle zone, following Hollywood to nowhere.

“Hey, get your butt over here.”

Hollywood’s voice snapped her back to cold, nasty reality.

She entered the dark, gray bedroom at the very end of the hall. Cleaner, but not much. At least she wouldn’t have to sit on the floor.

Inching toward the queen-size bed, she watched Hollywood pick up his clothes and throw them in the corner where a small pile instantly became a mountain of cotton, polyester, and rayon pieces she didn’t recognize.

A single window opened to a view of the backyard. Old tires, garbage, and clothes decorated a lawn—again more dirt than grass.

Hollywood switched on the stereo sitting on a wooden dresser, peeled off his shirt, then sank down on the bed, pulling her next to him. He gripped her like a homeless man protecting a bag of groceries.

She shrugged him off. “I thought you said we were going out.”

“Later.”

She stood. “I want to go
now!
”

Hollywood glared at her so long, she got the feeling that he wanted to hit her. She shriveled under his icy stare. He shrugged, leaning back on the bed. “I thought you was down.”

“I am down. I just want you to keep your promise.”

“Girl, it ain’t about what you want.” His eyes scanned her up and down. “I knew I shoulda stuck wit’ Alicia. I knew you were still a stupid little girl.”

His words hurt her more than she ever thought they could. “I’m not stupid.”

“Yeah right,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his groin. “What did you think I wanted? To play on the swings, baby doll?” He shook his head. “You knew when you stepped to me what I’d want. You know better than playing games with me. Now get them clothes off and quit actin’ like a baby.”

Brandi froze. Hollywood’s tone had gone from irritated to angry. If she didn’t do what he asked he’d dump her or something…worse.

She liked being with him because it made her popular, made other girls—even her friends—jealous. What would they say if she showed up at school and Hollywood treated her like a bald-headed stepchild?

If she gave in, he’d like her, but what about all his other girlfriends?
They’d given it up, too—and he’d dumped them. He was no longer with Jackie, Jennifer, Shakira, Alicia…What made her different?

Even though she’d bought him the cologne for his birthday, he didn’t say a word about her birthday today even though she’d reminded him several times. She thought he loved her. But now that she thought about it, he didn’t seem to know what love was. Hollywood’s bedroom in the heart of the hood was the last place she should be on a school day.

He grabbed at her blouse. A button popped off.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, backing away from the bed, struggling to fix her shirt. He had no intention of treating her right. He might be the cutest boy in school, but she didn’t really know him. She didn’t
want
to know him. When she looked up at him again, she gasped. He was fully undressed—butt naked, his penis reaching for the ceiling. Oh, God! She was in trouble now. She didn’t want to have sex with him. Come to think of it, she didn’t want to have sex at all. As much as she thought she was, she really wasn’t ready.

“I’m not doing this.”

“Then what you come here for?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“You brought me here!”

“Because you wanted some of this good stuff,” he said, grabbing his groin again as if he had just found out he had one. “Stop playing games, girl, and show me that you love me.”

“You don’t know what love is,” she said, jumping back to put three feet between them. “Take me home.”

“Girl, you’re crazy.”

“Take me home
now!
”

Unmoved, he smirked. “Not ’til I get what I want. And I’m gonna get what I want. Trust me.”

He didn’t move.

Suddenly she began to tremble as though standing in the coldest Chicago weather.

He placed his hands behind his head, lay back, and grinned. Moments later, he leaned over on the bed, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Yo, Vince and Juan! Come help me train this bi—”

She didn’t stick around for the rest. One of those sleeping zombies could awaken and come out of a nearby bedroom. Then she wouldn’t have a choice.

Sprinting down the hallway, she fumbled with the lock and threw the front door open. Her heart slammed against her chest as a pair of hard, large hands grazed her shoulders.

Brandi slipped under them and ran out the door. She had to get away fast.
Where can I go? Who can I call? Will any of the people sitting on their porches help me?
she wondered as ran blindly down the street in a strange neighborhood.

“Hey, catch her! Train time! I’ve got first!” Hollywood yelled in between gasps. “Catch her and you’ll get some, too…”

The sound of thundering feet and loud voices told her Hollywood was no longer the only one after her.

She didn’t know where to turn. All she knew how to do was run and… pray.

♥♥♥

Brandi stepped out the shower, patted dry, ran a comb through her shoulder-length hair, then threw on a pair of jeans and a red shirt. Seconds later she strolled into the bright blue and white kitchen. “Tanya, we need to talk.”

The woman turned from the stove. “I figure we’d have to do that sooner or later. I was hoping for later.”

The softness of her voice hid a trace of a southern accent. “Where are you from?” Brandi asked.

“Social Circle, Georgia.”

“Where’s that?”

“About fifty miles from Atlanta.”

Brandi took a moment to think. “If I hadn’t extended that offer, where would you be right now?”

“A hotel or something.” She gestured to the pictures of the children and Vernon on the wall near the sunroom. “I don’t really have any family, so…”

“Okay, let me—um—get my head on straight and we’ll sort everything out.”

Tanya rested her butt against the edge of the counter that separated the solarium from the kitchen, leveling a piercing blue-eyed gaze at Brandi as she sipped her coffee. “Kinda put your foot in it last night, huh?”

“It was worth it just to see him lose his mind.”

“Like MasterCard.”

Brandi grinned, lifting her steaming cup of coffee. “Priceless.”

Moments later, Brandi slipped into a clear vinyl seat at the breakfast table, pulling up to a plate of scrambled eggs, biscuits, turkey bacon, grits, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. A sudden sense of triumph shot through her. “Shoot, I’m liking this already.”

Tanya smiled, standing off to the side. The sun breaking through the clouds beamed into the glass-encased room, showering it with a ray of warm yellow light.

“You can sit down, you know. You’re not the maid.” After an uncomfortable pause, Brandi gestured to her food. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I—I—sure.” Tanya turned on her heel, returning moments later with an identically filled plate, and sat down across from Brandi.

Even without make-up, the woman was beautiful. Her round, smooth face blended her patrician features in perfect symmetry. Her soft voice and the way she held her coffee cup spoke of Southern gentility. She was a bit submissive and weak, vulnerable and lost, but spoke in a quiet, carefully controlled manner that signaled an upper-class upbringing.
How the hell did she accept living on the Black side of the city?
Brandi thought.
What happened that made her bounce from place to place like a hobo?

“So…where did you meet Vernon?

“The Perfect Fit,” Tanya said, between bites.

“You were looking for a job in Chicago?”

Tanya inhaled, stood, and crossed to the counter switching the radio on to some light jazz. “I wanted to see the Windy City for a while.”

“What job did you apply for?”

“Receptionist.”

Brandi froze mid-bite. “You moved all the way to Chicago for a job answering phones?”

“They said free training,” Tanya replied. “Plus it pays double what I made on my last job.”

Damn, the woman really did have it bad. “What college did you graduate from?”

Tanya hesitated, blushing a little before responding, “I didn’t go to college.” Her eyes radiated a sadness Brandi could almost touch. “I didn’t even finish high school.”

“That explains everything.”

Tanya’s face darkened with anger. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“No aspirations.”

Tanya placed her cup gently on the saucer. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Brandi lifted her fork. “You couldn’t
possibly
know what I’m thinking.”

Tanya pushed her plate away. “I’m a lot smarter than you think. I’m going to find a job, then a husband—”

“Why are you constantly trying to stay under the radar?”

“It takes money to go to college. Money I don’t have.”

“It takes drive and initiative,” Brandi shot back, light brown eyes flashing.

“Spoken by a woman who went to Fisk on a full scholarship.”

The sun shining through the blinds highlighted Brandi’s beautiful features.

“Who told you that?” Brandi asked softly, suddenly thinking that Vernon had shared more with Tanya than she cared for her to know.

“It’s on the wall right next to the fireplace. Presidential scholarship?”

“Well, I still had to earn that, it wasn’t just handed to me.”

Tanya concentrated on her meal, projecting shame and defeat. The grim set of her lips told Brandi that she had insulted the woman. “I apologize,” Brandi said,
“if
I’ve judged you unfairly.”