Trap House (6 page)

Marcus had done a lot of foul shit since he began smoking, and he felt nothing—no guilt or
shame—most of the time. He did, however, feel a tinge of remorse as he pulled out of the Walmart
parking lot, leaving his sister and her children stranded there. “At least she can keep the twenty,”
he told his reflection, as if that made everything alright.

CHAPTER 6

I
t was another typical hot, humid summer day in the South. Tiffany thanked God and then her
father for the ice-cold air conditioner that cooled the house as she did her household chores.
After running the vacuum through the entire house, she went to work dusting and polishing. She
felt a sense of pride and gratitude for the nice home her father had provided for his family.

“Hey, girl,” Tiffany beamed at her mother, who was hard at work herself; she always whipped
up a big brunch as the family did their weekend chores, and today’s consisted of scrambled eggs,
bacon, home fries, and biscuits.

“Almost ready, dear,” her mother replied, returning the cheerful smile.

“Good, cuz I’m starvin’ like Marvin.” Tiffany chuckled as she snagged a slice of crispy bacon.

“’Bout time you ate something, girl. You been hurtin’ my feelings lately, turning ya nose up at
my food,” she slipped in. She’d been looking for an opportunity to address her daughter’s recent
lack of appetite.

“Gurl, you know I love ya cooking,” Tiffany sang, grabbing a hot biscuit to prove the point. She
chomped into the biscuit as she headed up to her room. “Call me when it’s ready!” Tiffany called
behind her.

As Tiffany neared her room, she heard the phone ringing. The D-lite ringtone always made her
want to dance. By the time she fished the phone out, it had stopped ringing. “Shit!” she proclaimed
at the missed call. She didn’t particularly want to speak with Marcus, but she wanted her car
back.

Just as she was about to dial the phone, a folded-up bill in her purse caught her attention.
“Psst...”
it seemed to say.

She debated on whether or not she should take a hit for two whole seconds before digging
in. A few seconds after she began, the bill was empty. She lay back to enjoy her buzz, just as
her mother’s voice drifted upstairs. Since her appetite had vanished, she decided to ignore her
mother’s beckoning. She shook her head at the half-eaten biscuit on the nightstand.

“Tiff, don’t you hear your mother?” her father asked, sticking his head inside the partially open
door.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” she replied curtly at the intrusion.

“Excuse me, young lady?” her father said in disbelief, a look of pure confusion pasted on his
face.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Tiffany whined, using the little girl voice that always proved effective
when dealing with her father. “I was about to change. You embarrassed me,” she added. She knew
she had her daddy wrapped around her finger, but maintaining that required the utmost respect.

Her father doted on his wife and daughter, and he worked long and hard to provide them with a
good life. The house and the cars were a testament of his accomplishments as a provider. It was a
far cry from the path he almost took in the streets.

He glanced out Tiffany’s window to decide if he should wash the cars and noticed that hers
wasn’t there…again. “Girl, where is your car?” he asked sternly.

“Um…Marcus had a job interview early today,” she lied. She knew full well that a job would
have to come looking for Marcus, and even if one found him, it would have to beg him to take it.

“I don’t like that boy keeping your car,” he said slowly. “I bought that car for you, not for
him.”

“I know, Daddy, but once he finds another job, he’ll be able to get him another one,” she said,
fighting her own frustration. She didn’t like him keeping her car any more than her father did, and
she was getting sick of defending her lazy, leeching boyfriend.

“Yeah, well, speaking of cars,” her father said, taking a seat on her bed, “the insurance agent
called me and said your payment is late. They’re about to cancel your policy.”

“Shit!” Tiffany exclaimed. “Oops. I mean…shoot. I got that money order last week and ain’t
mailed it out yet.”

“Last month, you mean,” her father corrected.

“Ima send it out today,” Tiffany said, easing back into baby girl mode.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said, rising from the bed. “Come on down and get some of the food ya
mama hooked up.”

“Y’all go ‘head. I’m not hungry,” Tiffany replied.

“Oh?” her father asked. His wife had spoken to him about their daughter’s recent change in
appetite. She hadn’t lost any weight that he could tell, but his wife was worried about it.

“Yeah, my stomach hurts. I think my period is coming,” she said, knowing that would get him
out of there.

It did the trick, and her father rushed out of the room. “I’ll tell your mama to put you a plate in
the oven for later,” he said over his shoulder.

Tiffany’s mind flashed back to drugs. She cursed herself for giving Marcus all her money.
Payday was only the day before, and she didn’t have a dime left—no money for gas, no money
for her insurance, and worst of all, no money for blow. She had no idea where her next gram was
coming from.

She tried Marcus, but the call went straight to voicemail, so she left him a message. “Nigga,
bring me MY car,” she said hotly after the tone.

* * *

“Hey, baby, you feeling better?” Tiffany’s mother inquired when she entered the kitchen.

“A little,” she said, holding her head. “Migraine, I think.”

“Ya daddy said your tummy is hurting,” her mother asked.

“Oh, yeah. That too,” she replied, reminded of the lie she’d told. She was trying to figure out
the best approach to separate her mother from some of her money.

“Well, I put a plate in the microwave,” her mother said as she went back to her task of loading
the dishwasher.

“I ain’t hungry,” she replied, causing her mother to pause from her chore.

“Girl, something ain’t right with you,” she said, placing the back of her hand against her
daughter’s forehead.

Knowing there was no fever to find, Tiffany pulled away from her mother’s touch. “I’ll grab a
bite to eat at work…if I make it,” she said pitifully, setting the stage for a loan.

“Yeah, ya daddy told me that boy got your car again,” her mother said, with displeasure clear
in her voice. She and her husband had once been very fond of Marcus, but now he was just “that
boy.”

“Mmmhmm. Plus, I done messed around and ain’t paid my insurance. Daddy gon’ kill me,”
Tiffany said sadly.

“Didn’t you just get paid?” her mother asked sharply.

“Yes, ma’am, but I had a lot of bills to pay,” Tiffany replied.

“Bills!?” Her mother chuckled. “What bills
you
got?”

“Um…let’s see. Hair, nails, clothes, cell phone, clothes…and oh, yeah…clothes,” Tiffany joked,
appealing to her mother’s sense of fashion and vanity.

“Girl, I swear, you gon’ break me,” her mother replied, reaching for her purse. “How much you
need?”

Tiffany did some quick math in her head before answering.
Go for an eight ball, twenty for gas, and
ten for nails.
“I think $200 should do it,” she sang.

“Two hundred!?” Tiffany’s mother exclaimed. “Chile, what you need so much money for?”

“Seventy for insurance, twenty for gas, ten for lunch, and the rest to hold me through the week,”
she said evenly.

“I’ll tell you what. Ima give you $100 and send a check for your insurance, but you gon’ have
to eat something first,” she replied.

“Okay,” Tiffany huffed, plopping stubbornly into a chair. She tried to eat, but it was as if her
throat was closed. No matter how much she chewed, it took a swig of juice to get the food down.
“I’m full, Mama,” Tiffany whined halfway through her plate.

Knowing she’d deliberately overloaded the plate, her mother was satisfied with the effort.

Tiffany took off like a shot once she had the money in her hand. “Thanks, Mama!” she yelled
as she hit the stairs, taking them two at a time.

* * *

Tiffany had lost her buzz because of the heavy brunch, but the anticipation of that next package
boosted her spirits. Just the thought of a hit made her stomach churn.

Before sitting on the toilet, she turned on the shower so it could be at the desired temperature
when she got in. After relieving herself, Tiffany stepped out of her clothes and into the shower.
There, she removed the handheld showerhead from its cradle and directed the water onto her
backside to make sure she was thoroughly clean. The steam of the water sent a vibration through
her entire body as it licked at her vagina. Tiffany adjusted the flow to pulsate and applied it directly
on her now-throbbing vagina. Using her free hand, she spread her outer lips for direct clitoral
stimulation. In seconds, she let out a shriek as her body convulsed from her first orgasm.

Her legs were still shaking as she stood in front of her mirror to dress. Feeling sexy, she selected a
white thong and bra set, for starters. “That nigga tripping,” she sad aloud as she admired her figure.
She had been feeling a little self-conscious lately since Marcus showed no interest in her. “Ain’t
nothing wrong with me,” she said, remembering his lack of erection at their last encounter.

Tiffany shook her head at the plain outfit she’d laid out on the bed. It had been selected with
the bus ride in mind, comfort being paramount. Having a change in plans, she pulled out a sexy
miniskirt and a matching top. “Somebody gonna gimme a ride,” she mused to herself as she dressed.
A comfortable pair of sandals completed the ensemble, and she was set.

Once outside, Tiffany slipped on her shades and took off in the direction of the bus stop, knowing
full well she wouldn’t be taking any buses. She hadn’t walked half a block before a car honked its
horn behind her. She smiled to herself, pleased with the attention, and then put a little extra sway
in her hips, pretending to ignore the car.

“Girl, get in this car,” the driver demanded as he pulled alongside her.

Tiffany was embarrassed and pleased when she turned and saw who it was. She and Carlos
lived across the street from each other and had grown up together. Despite their close proximity,
they rarely saw each other lately.

“Hey, lo,” Tiffany said sweetly as she slid into the passenger seat.

“Hey, yourself. Why you walking like that? What, you broke yo’ hip?” he teased.