Nasty (24 page)

Never missing a beat, and never taking her eye off her reflection in the mirror, Nicola concocted a flimsy excuse. “You know I went to see his game the other day, and well, I got caught up with the crowd. Everybody cheering his name. Everybody shouting ‘Go, Jonathan…Go, Jonathan.’ You were there. You know how it was.”

Nicola paused and looked at Carlos’s reflection in the mirror. He was so whipped with jealousy she almost laughed out loud and spilled the beans just to see how low his spirit would drop. Instead of going in for the “kill,” she simply added, “Guess I still feel that ‘winning’ spirit.”

She stood up, and performed a sexy little cheerleader chant.
“Go, Jonathan. Go, Jonathan.” She turned around to face Carlos to see if her explanation bore any weight. Did he swallow it or would he challenge it?

“You’re right. It was a damn good game. Hell, even I keep saying his name in my brain once or twice. My brother is one bad-ass motherfucker.”

“And so are you, my big man. These earrings are gorgeous.” She slipped back into the vanity chair.

Carlos kissed her on her neck. “I’m glad you like the earrings, Ms. Nicola.” Nicola smiled up at him. He was cute and a darling in the bed. It would be difficult to replace a man with Carlos’s equipment. With that thought, she slithered back into the bed and taunted him. “Come here, baby, so Momma can thank you the right way.”

Carlos looked at her. Seeing her nude, chocolate body wearing nothing but the jewels he’d given her, made his limp pole morph into a marble statue of wanton lust. He had to fuck her, but he was out of condoms.

“Nicola, oh, I do want you, baby, but I’m all out of rubbers. Maybe later.”

Nicola rubbed the inside of her pleasure vault and pulled out a sopping wet finger. She rubbed the thick moistness along the tightness of his shaft. “Mmmm, this is good stuff, baby.” She kept re-lubricating her fingers with her natural juices, then massaged the love lotion up and down his massive rod. “I won’t get pregnant on you, baby. I promise.”

Carlos’s intellect whispered loudly that he should postpone his visit to Nicolaville till he was properly suited with a rubber. But Carlos couldn’t hear it. Several times that afternoon, before they’d left for the funeral, the young man had plunged every inch of his raging passion inside Nicola, pumping what
seemed to be gallons of hot, bubbly potion. He had never enjoyed sex as much.

He loved, cherished, and needed this woman and he would never let anyone or anything come between the two of them. Not even a rubber condom. He trusted her. No matter what his momma or brother said about her, she was a good, clean and virtuous woman. Most importantly, he was convinced that he was her one and only.

Carlos paced downstairs in Nicola’s living room. He looked at the antique grandfather clock and knew they’d be late, if they didn’t leave right then. Taking advantage of a media opportunity, he shared Eli and Tarik’s story with the press. The nature of the father-son relationship, the HIV/drug connection and his brother’s blossoming fame, proved to be a journalist’s gold mine.

Carlos’s phone had rung off the hook from reporters wanting to know the full story. He expected more than a few media folks at the funeral. He wanted to be there to intercede and make sure Tarik got the right kind of press. Looking at the time again, he yelled upstairs, “Nicola, baby, we gotta leave now.”

She responded, “In a minute, dear.”

Primping in front of her vanity, reluctantly preparing for a funeral she did not want to attend, Nicola seriously considered dumping Carlos. His possessiveness, although cute in the beginning, was starting to bore her. Though he performed masterfully in bed that day, his attempts at making their relationship deeper than it was would only mean less fucking and more talking.

She was done with conversations. She had had plenty of them
with her husband. She had even enjoyed talking with him. A lot of good that did.

Harrison James. She hadn’t spoken with him in weeks. There were financial forms from her ex-husband that she needed to sign. She made a mental note to get a courier to deliver them to him after the funeral.

She was pissed at Harrison. He had only generated the recent glitch in their divorce settlement to force a meeting with her. Thank God, her lawyer negotiated a deal where all she needed to do was sign on the dotted line. He still sent letters of apology begging for her forgiveness. Lines and lines of trying to remind her how good they used to be together. She shredded all of them. After all these months without him in her life, she still had no desire to look him in the eye.

T
hompson Funeral Home had served the Bedford-Stuyvesant community for thirty years. They started as a small storefront business. Casualties of heroin and crack addiction, the gang wars and the AIDS epidemic created a bumper crop of business for the Thompson clan. They reinvested earnings and purchased a cluster of five brownstones that they renovated into one contiguous building. The restoration was so extravagant that the demand for their services increased exponentially.

Big Daddy Thompson, the founder, loved fine art and devoted an entire floor to display his prized possessions. Wanting to share his collection with the community that had supported his business so faithfully over the years, he opened it up to the public.

To entice Nicola into coming to the funeral, Carlos “mentioned” that Thompson had just acquired originals by Romare Bearden and abstract artist James Little. Her love of art made her change her mind.

Carlos drove his mother’s blue Cadillac to the funeral. Ophelia was in the back of the car, quietly suffering. She already missed Eli.

Nicola sat next to Carlos in silence. She hated funerals just like
she was beginning to hate her relationship with the “music mogul.” With Jonathan in the picture, the thrill of possible exposure brought with it an excitement that had helped fuel their tryst. Now that that was over…the only thing left to entertain her was Mr. Big Dick and his clinging ways.

She had stopped prowling restaurants, bars, and the internet for partners. Focusing on and nurturing her relationship with the two young men had helped quench her insatiable sexual appetite. Visits with the infamous Williams family served her purposes as well. All of her affairs had helped her in some wonderful way to heal. The despair that took up residence in the pit of her soul after she discovered Harrison’s secret, was now vanishing.

Nicola had reached a turning point in her quest to purge the misery of her tortured childhood, as well as Harrison’s affair. She pulled out her compact mirror to powder her nose. Ophelia’s bitchy reflection glared at her. Nicola smiled.
You won’t have to worry about me much longer,
she thought. After the funeral today, both Carlos and Jonathan would be history. Mama Ophelia could have both of her boys back.

Ophelia sat in the backseat of the car fidgeting, wishing that the funeral was behind her. As they passed by Tompkins Square Park, a view of the basketball court reminded her of her son. “I hope Jonathan makes it in time for the services.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here. One thing about him, he’s a man of his word. Very reliable. And you shoulda seen him at that game, Mother. He was magnificent. I’ll sure miss him when he goes away to school.”

“Me, too. He’s a great kid,” Nicola added.

Ophelia ignored Nicola, as memories of her making sexual advances at poor little innocent Jonathan at the concert flooded
her conscience. Dismissing these disturbing thoughts and visions, Ophelia commented, “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it to his last game…I was…with Eli…I hope…I hope he’ll forgive me.”

“Don’t worry, he understands. Plus, there’ll be other games for you to attend. Did he tell you that the new expansion team in North Carolina, the one owned by Bob Johnson, offered him a spot after his high school graduation?”

“My boy is going straight to college. I don’t care what Bob Johnson offers him.”

“He’d be a fool to turn a professional team down that offered him mad money in the millions now, versus possibly getting injured within the next four years on a non-paying college team and missing his chance at the pros.”

“Maybe you have a point, Carlos. I don’t know.”

“’Course I do. After basketball, if he still wants to do the doctor thing…he could get a degree then.” Carlos laughed as he added, “Hell, he could buy himself a hospital with all the stupid money he’s ’bout to make.”

Ophelia’s thoughts drifted back to Eli. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with his ashes.”

Nicola suggested, “Well, he was an artist, a native New Yorker. Spread his ashes at the beach, Coney Island.”

Proud that Nicola had made such a logical suggestion, or rather happy she was finally breaking her sulky mood, he overly supported her suggestion. “Isn’t that a good idea, Mama? A great idea, don’t you…”

Still not settled with the fact that her son was dating such a low-class vixen, she snapped back, “Eli hated the damn beach, and hated Coney Island most of all; said it was too ‘common.’” She smiled to herself, feeling she had struck a target. Carlos was too stupid to see this woman for the piece of work she really was.

She was going to miss her time with Eli, but now she could devote more attention to her boys. Make sure they all get back on the straight and narrow. Especially Carlos. He was not himself since he fell for the tramp. His confidence level had slipped into the toilet. He was more agitated than usual; even snapped at her for the littlest things.

And the biggest tip of all was the nightmare. After that evening when she rocked her grown son to sleep, she knew he needed her help and support. After the funeral was over, she was going to insist he visit a counselor to talk about his problems. She was not going to take “no” for an answer.

Her boy Carlos. Who would think he would fall so hard and so stupid for a woman? Ophelia shamefully hung her head down low. Who was she to judge? She had loved Eli, a poster pin-up for the wrong man, all her adult life. But right or wrong…it was still the sweetest feeling she had ever experienced.

In the deep place she only visited on romantic moonlit nights she reflected back on the good times she had spent loving and being loved by Eli. She felt blessed by the time she shared with him in the end. No regrets. But Ophelia was determined to give Ms. Nicola a regret or two.

The quiet in the car was almost deafening. They passed St. John’s Hospital. Carlos took a cheap stab at making conversation. “Ms. Nicola, we are now passing by my birthplace. The famous St. John’s Hospital.” Realizing how very little he knew about Nicola, he inquired, “By the way, where were you born?”

Nicola looked away. She was going to avoid the answer, but something deep inside her wanted to tell the truth. It probably had something to do with her making this her last time with Carlos. “I wasn’t born in a hospital. They found me in the Nicola factory, a few blocks away from Kings County Hospital. My adopted parents named me after the building.”

Ophelia perked up. “What did you say?”

“My mother escaped from a mental institution, gave birth to me in the building, tried to kill me and then jumped out of the window.”

She turned around to smile at Carlos’s mother…hoping the story would horrify her. Seeing those sparkling eyes reconnected Ophelia to the past. This couldn’t be the same infant she’d help nurse back to health all those years ago; the beautiful baby girl she and Eli were planning to adopt?

Carlos held his breath. Though he tried, he could not utter a single word. He never had any idea about Nicola’s past.

Ophelia was in shock. She needed more information. “Your parents? Where are they?”

“Never knew my father and my mother. Like I said, they died when I was born. I was adopted by the Martins.”

“And your adopted family. Where are they now?”

Nicola, surprisingly calm during Ophelia’s inquisition, decided against full disclosure, smiled broadly, and said, “When I was twelve…they…they, uh…died in a fire. After that, I lived in a group home until I left at eighteen for college. End of story.”

Ophelia sat still, staring straight ahead. This was the baby girl she and Eli had fallen in love with. This piece of shit sitting next to her son, if fate had been different, could have been her daughter. Knowing and feeling the evil in the girl, she shuddered when she considered that maybe life had been less than kind to her.

If Eli hadn’t messed up that day, so long ago, they could have spared Nicola the horror she must have witnessed. Ophelia now knew that those beautiful brown eyes that had captured her and her husband so many years ago, held secrets…secrets that made this girl act out pages scripted by Satan himself. For the umpteenth time since she’d first met Eli, she cursed his soul. His weakness had once again brought grief to the people he loved.

Feeling genuine compassion for her, she admitted, “Nicola… I…I knew you when you were in the hospital. In fact, as crazy as it may sound now, Eli and I came very close to adopting you.”

“Now, wouldn’t that have been special.”

“Yes, wouldn’t it have?”

Ophelia shared the entire story with them. How Tarik almost died thanks to Eli’s drug use. Trying to repress tears, Nicola maintained a cool, indifferent composure. She didn’t want to tip her hand that the tale of how she had missed being adopted by Eli and Ophelia had set off an emotional explosion deep down in her soul.

All things considered, Nicola knew Ophelia was a good woman. And as far as she could tell, had been a great mom. Ophelia rightfully didn’t like her because she knew she was screwing her son and nephew. There was no reason to expect a warm welcome from her. She respected Ophelia for protecting her family.

Nicola fought back a tear. Nobody ever protected her. It was only until she met Harrison, that she felt safe with another human being. Oh, yes. If Ophelia had raised Nicola, her life would be different.

But life was what it was and somebody, somewhere, was going to have to pay for her pain.

“I look like a grown man, don’t I, Daddy?’