The Ex Factor: A Novel (27 page)

“Hey, Listra,” Monica said with a drag.

“What's wit' de attitude? First I call Mummy and she attitude
nasty and now you. But what de hell?” Monica could hear Listra taking a pull off her cigarette.

“I'm just pissed off with Sharief.”

“Why?”

“He doesn't want the baby. He wants me to have an abortion.”

“Well, he wasn't that damn drunk after all. We finally agree on someting.”

“I gotta go,” Monica snapped. “The last thing I need to hear is a buncha smart-ass shit falling out of your mouth. Please!” She hung up.

In an effort to not think about the bullshit that had now become her life, Monica turned the radio all the way up and started singing.

By the time she got home her face was drenched with tears. She parked in front of her house, walked inside, lay down on the couch, and closed her eyes. Trying desperately to remember what she liked to do before she started fucking with Sharief, she opened her eyes and turned on the TV to see if her favorite show,
American Justice
, would still interest her since she hadn't watched it in months. She turned the channel only to see that cable had switched the networks around and A&E was no longer channel 23. Instead channel 23 was HBO, and they were premiering a new movie,
Flip Side of the Game. Humph
, Monica thought, sitting up,
now ain't this some shit?

… … …

MONICA GOT OFF the couch and stretched.
What the fuck am I doing?
she thought. No matter how hard she tried, Sharief clouded her every thought. She sat back down and flicked through the TV channels again. Hell, if she was forced to think about him, then she needed to think about how to let him go… and how to breathe without him… and how to piss, shit, sleep, and just be without having to see him, feel him, or fuck him. It was two o'clock in the morning and she was miserable. “So Ms.,” she said
in an animated and deep voice, holding the remote control to her mouth like a microphone, “you are officially a part of the ex-factor, so tell me how does it feel? Is he still the bomb or what?”

As soon as she went to answer her own question the telephone rang. “Hello?”

“Monica?”

“Sharief,” she said as calmly as possible, “let me inform you. Sorry will not work and your lick-and-stick game ain't that great. I'm what you would say… sick of yo' shit—”

“Monica—”

“I'm four and a half months pregnant and I cannot have an abortion.”

“Monica—”

“Did you hear me?” she yelled.

“Monica… shut…the… fuck up! This is not about your selfish ass, for once, goddamn!” he said, exasperated.

Sensing the panic in Sharief's voice, Monica immediately switched gears. “What's wrong?”

“Celeste had me arrested.”

“What? What happened? What do you mean arrested? Where are you?”

“At the police station. The cop let me use the phone at his desk. But she had me arrested for assault.”

“Oh my God!” Monica couldn't believe it.

“Monica, baby, I swear,” he started to get upset, “all I did was walk in the house and she was beat the fuck up and shit. But I never touched her. I asked her what happened and the next thing I knew she was callin' nine-one-one and the police ran in the house like a fuckin' SWAT team!”

“I don't understand.” Monica was confused. Her heart started to race and her palms started to sweat.

“Listen, baby, all I know is that I didn't touch her. I'm being held at the police station. I want you to come and get me before they move me to the county jail. My bail is ten thousand cash. I
keep my checkbook locked in the glove compartment of my truck. I need you to get down here this morning. Go by my house and my truck is parked out front. Get my checkbook, and write yourself a check for ten grand so you can pay my bail.”

“And what if Celeste is there?”

“She won't be.”

“Where is she?”

“In the hospital.”

“What? My sister's in the hospital?” “Oh, now you're concerned. She's in the hospital because she lost her fuckin' mind, not because of anything I did. Please, baby, I need you.”

“I'll be at the bank as soon as they open.”

… … …

“I'M SORRY, MISS,” the teller said, “but we can't cash it. Insufficient funds.”

Monica's heart stopped. “What?”

“Insufficient funds.”

Before she could respond, her phone rang. It was a collect call from Sharief. She was thankful that her call forwarding worked. She pressed 2 and accepted his call. Instantly she began to cry. “Sharief, you don't have any money in the bank.”

“Calm down, baby, now what did you say?”

“You don't have any money. I'll just spend my money and come get you.”

“No … don't do that. Where the fuck is my money?” he mumbled. “Okay, baby, something is not right. Walk over to the MAC machine and check my account's balance. Inside the pocket in my checkbook is a duplicate MAC card, my code is zero-four-one-one.”

Monica got out of line and walked over to the MAC machine. She checked Sharief's balance. “Your checking account is negative.” She started to get upset again.

“Baby,” he took a deep breath, “I gotta get the fuck outta here. Check my savings.”

She checked his savings. “It's two dollars left.”

Sharief pounded his fist. “What the fuck!”

“I'm coming to get you,” Monica insisted.

“No, I'ma need your help with an attorney.” “Are you sure Celeste is still in the hospital? Did she come and get the money outta the bank?” Monica asked.

“Look,” Sharief said, ignoring her, “come down here and wait for me. I'ma call my captain and see if he can call in a favor to the judge to get me the hell outta here.”

… … …

MONICA LEFT THE bank and drove to the Somerset County police station. Once inside she walked over to the processing officer's desk. “Excuse me,” she said, “I'm here for Sharief Winston.”

“One moment, have a seat, ma'am. I'll check for you…Excuse me, are you the one pressing the charges against him?”

“No.” A voice floated over Monica's shoulder. “That would be me.”

As Monica turned around, Celeste, Starr, and Red were standing directly behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Starr asked Monica, her eyes moving from Monica's face to her stomach. “And don't lie.”

“I-I-I…”

“You were what, Monica?” Celeste said, with a bandage over her eye and a large bruise covering half her face. “You were what? You fuckin' slut! How could you take and sleep with my husband! How could you! I trusted you!”

“You didn't trust me, you don't even like me!” Monica screamed.

“You're my sister!” “And whose fuckin' problem is that? You know what, Celeste”— Monica pointed her finger—“you got fat and fuckin' miserable. You cut all your damn hair off, looking like a man. You! All he
tried to be was a good man to you and all you did was go from project shit to trailer-park trash—”

Before Monica could go on, Celeste slowly lifted her hand in the air, bit her bottom lip, and hauled off and slapped the shit out of her; Monica stumbled, almost falling to the floor. “You tryin' to play me crazy! This fat bitch will kick yo' ass!” Celeste screamed, placing her hands on her hips.

Monica put her hand over her mouth. “I can't believe that you just did that.” She made eye contact with the officers who were walking up on them. “What's the problem?” the officer asked.

“None of your damn business!” Celeste screamed.

“I'm sick of this!” Monica screamed. “I'm sick of this pretend shit! Pretend-it's-all-grand shit. Well it's not! And I'm glad you know because now I can move on with my life and my man!”

“Ya man!” Celeste lunged at Monica. “That's my husband!”

Red grabbed Celeste's arms and pulled her away from Monica. “Monica—you better hold ya roll,” Red insisted. “You can't go around violatin' marriage vows. You ever heard of a jezebel? I need a Bible right now, somebody need to pray for you!”

“The Bible?” Monica said. “You just found the Bible. So be quiet!”

“Oh wait a minute now,” Starr said. “I ain't Celeste. I'll beat yo' ass over my man!”

“And that's all you've ever been concerned about was your man. So you know what,” Monica spat, “I don't have time for this. Sharief didn't do anything to Celeste. She's lying. I know she's lying. And I hope she burns in fuckin' hell. And if you're here to help her press charges then to hell with all of you.”

“Monica—” Starr couldn't believe it.

“No, fuck that!” Monica stormed away and started walking toward a bench. As she sat down, she spotted an officer escorting Sharief.

“Have you been released?” Monica asked, running toward him. Sharief nodded and walked closer to her. Once he stood next to
her, he yoked her by the arm and pulled her back toward Starr, Red, and Celeste. “What the hell is going on here? I could hear you all the way in the back. This is ridiculous!”

“You got a lot of nerve,” Starr growled at him. “You fuckin' both of my daughters? You wreck my family—”

“He didn't wreck anything, Ma. Monica is grown!” Celeste insisted. “She's the home wrecker.”

“Pussy don't fuck alone, Celeste,” Starr reminded her.

“Pussy don't fuck alone? This ain't about pussy, this is about her being my sister!” Celeste screamed at the top of her lungs. Tears flooded her face, and her vision was blurry. “Here I was asking you for advice. Asking you what you thought, if he was cheating, if it was me, was it this and was it that, and here you were suckin' his dick and fuckin' him.” Celeste reached for Monica but Starr jumped in the way. “Move, Ma, 'cause I'ma kill her.”

“We're in the police station!” Starr screamed.

“I don't give a fuck!” Celeste completely blacked out. “You stinkin' no-good-rotten-eggs, half-a-fallopian-tube slut. And if you're pregnant, I hope your fuckin' baby dry-rot just like the other one and then your infested-ass womb fall to pieces! This niggah know you had crabs? This niggah know you had a three-some, fucked a bitch just to keep yo' man, and the man still left your skeezin' ass—”

“Monica!” Starr screamed, cutting Celeste off. “On top of all this I know you ain't no dyke!”

“Oh we gon' need some anointing oil for this one, baby!” Red said.

“Did you tell him that he ain't the first married man that you've fucked,” Celeste continued, “did you tell him that? You gon' tell me I got fat, I cut all my hair off, that it was me? That's why your fuckin' daddy didn't even want you. I hate you, Monica, and I swear to God and if Mommy and Red weren't standing here I would bury you!”

“Now, wait a fuckin' minute, Celeste,” Sharief said. “You better
fall the fuck back. Don't blame Monica, blame me. It's my throat you comin' for, not hers. I told you I didn't want you. I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted you to leave, but good-bye was never good enough, it always had to come with an explanation. Just go someplace and sit the fuck down. 'Cause guess what? I still don't love you. I still don't want you and after what you did to me I hate you! I hate you! And if you want to press charges on me for something you know I didn't do, then go ahead, because I will win. Now, get the fuck out my face!” He turned to Monica. “I'm ready to go.”

Monica looked Celeste in the face, grabbed Sharief by the hand, and turned to leave.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Celeste screamed. “You son-of-a-bitch!”

Starr grabbed Celeste as she went to run toward Sharief. “He ain't worth it, and right about now neither is she.”

I
T WAS SIX o'clock in the morning and Monica had been watching Sharief sleep for close to an hour. As far as she was concerned, everything about him was perfect. From the way his lips curled when he took deep breaths to the way a light coating of drool glazed his lips. As she brushed her hands across his soft cheeks, her phone rang. Without looking at the caller ID she answered, “Hello.”

“I'ma try real hard,” Starr said into the receiver, “to not call you a bitch, ho. But in a minute I'ma take it there!”

“Excuse you?” Monica said. “What did you just say to me?”

“Oh, you heard me, dammit! And I tell you what, you got an hour to get that high-yellow niggah out yo' bed and out yo' house before I wreck shop on yo' ass. What the fuck is really wrong with you? Have you lost all of your common sense? I don't give a damn about how good that dirty-dick niggah can fuck, eat pussy, or suck a tittie, that is your sister's husband and if I was Celeste I would've stuck my foot so far up yo' ass, you would be eatin' the crust off my calluses! Now, when I warned you about sister's husband
the first two times you should've stayed away, but noooooo, not you. If he ain't gone in a few minutes, so help me all y'all niggahs will get fucked up! And just for the record, I know that you are my child, but Celeste is my child too and when she hurts, I hurt, and I don't like to feel pain. So wake that niggah up and tell him he needs to step!”

“Ma, please.”

“Did you hear me? Don't make me come over!”

“Do what you gotta do,” Monica said dismissively.

“Do what—what.” Starr couldn't believe it. “Bitch, I will come over there and stomp a mud hole in yo' ass so deep that all the black will slide off you. Matter fact, put your sneakers on and come outside, ho. Mama Byrd,” Starr said, “grab ya porta-potty, I got to go and kick Monica's ass…Monica, be sure you put some Vaseline on yo' face 'cause I'ma fuck you up. And you better not hit me back 'cause then I'ma bust yo' ass like the home-wreckin' bitch you are! And in case you think you can possibly take me, just know that I have always lived, breathed, and will die in the hood, so when you come, come correct 'cause it's the fuck on!”

“Ma, I'm not fighting you.”

“Oh, you don't wanna fight? Hell you may as well 'cause this gon' be an easy one. It's gon' involve two kicks: me kicking you and you kicking his ass to the curb. You better recognize whose child you playin' with. Celeste is my child and the moment you decided to fuck her husband is the moment you declared war!”

“I can't believe you're saying this to me! You have always loved Celeste more than me anyway! So I'm not surprised that you would want to fight me because she's crying. But what about me, I'm your child too!”