Nasty Girls (20 page)

“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled.

He did, without me having to ask twice. I stormed off down the block, cursing and fuming. I didn't even turn and look back. The bitch ripped my sweater and scratched up my face. I swear, if I had a gun, both of 'em would have been dead.

I walked away, not even bothering to turn around. I was in full tears and not knowing what to do with myself. A part of me, though, did want to turn around, and I wanted James to run after me, apologize, and say something. But he stood behind. He never came up to me. He never said a fucking word to me. Fuck him! He can have that bitch.

An hour later, somebody was at my door, but I didn't want to be bothered with. I cried on the couch, listening to Beyoncé's CD. The words to her song “Dangerously in Love” lingered in my head as I clutched a pillow to my chest with crazy thoughts spinning around in my head.

I heard the doorbell, which was followed by hard knocking afterwards.

“Jade, open up! It's Camille,” she shouted. “Open the damn door, Jade!”

I unwillingly got up from my position on the couch, and
walked sluggishly to answer the door. I took my time unbolting the three locks, and cracked open the door. Camille ran into my place like there was a fire out in the hallway. She looked at me and said, “Jade, you a'ight? I heard what happened. Where that bitch at!”

I just looked at her, still clutching my pillow to my chest with my back pressed against the wall. Word travels quickly. She examined my face, like a mother to a hurt child, and became furious. “We gonna fuck that dirty bitch up. Where the fuck is James?” she asked angrily.

“I don't give a fuck!”

“What happened, anyway?”

“I fought the bitch,” I said, saying no more.

“I see that.”

“Listen, she done and over wit',” I told her, trying to hold back the tears that began welling up in my eyes. I thought about James, and he was making me hysterical.

Camille looked at me, and I knew she saw the hurt in my face. “You okay?”

I tried to be strong, but my hard image collapsed when I heard a certain song airing over the radio that made me instantly think old times. It was Brian McKnight's “One Last Cry.”

I lost it and broke down in front of my best friend. “Why don't he love me anymore?” I exclaimed. I had a river of tears streaming down my face. “I mean . . . I do so much for him, Camille, and he keeps dissin' me. Why? For that dirty bitch, Tasha. What the fuck she got over me? I'm supposed to be his woman.”

“Fuck that bitch-ass nigga, Jade. You don't need him. He don't do shit for you, anyway. Right now he fuckin' up your life.”

“Niggas are fucked up!” I cried out. “You do so much, and they still go out and cheat . . . fuck him . . . watch . . . watch. Camille, I'm gonna leave him, and he gonna miss me. He gonna miss me,” I proclaimed. I broke into tears again and fell against the couch.

Camille came up to me, consoling me and saying that it was time for me to move on.

“You know what you need to do? Change the locks and keep his ass locked outside your crib. This is your place, Jade. I don't care if he helps you pay your rent. You do you, and kick his triflin' ass out. Stand up on your own two feet, Jade. If you need help with money, you know I got you.”

“Thanks, Camille.”

“You know what else is gonna make you feel a whole lot better,” Camille said, smiling a devilish grin.

I looked at her with tears in my eyes and asked, “What?”

She got up, went into the bedroom, and soon came back out with arms full of James's clothing—Rocawear, Sean John, Phat Farm, Versace, and other shit like that.

I let out a slight smile and asked, “What you gonna do wit' his shit?”

She walked up to the window, opened it, and tossed all of his designer clothing out the window. “That's what!” Camille said.

She encouraged me to do the same. I walked into the bedroom, grabbed a bunch of James's shit, and repeated Camille's action, tossing a bunch of his shit out the window, and seeing it spread out across the grass under my window. Camille and I repeated this for fifteen minutes. We threw everything—his Timberlands, Nikes, shoes, clothing, and even his jewelry—out the window, and I'm talking about platinum rings and chains,
watches that were worth an easy five thousand dollars, and his PlayStation 2, including the fifty or so games he collected.

“You feel a little better?” Camille asked.

I took in a deep breath, and said, “Yeah. I'm okay now.”

“Now you need to change the locks and put that bolt across your door,” she suggested.

“Believe me, I will.” I had to. I knew that when James came home and saw his shit out the window like that, he was gonna flip. But I wasn't scared. He touch me, I'll get his ass fucked up.

Camille hung around until evening came. I felt safe around her, but when she left, my fear surfaced again. I knew James was gonna be furious. So for protection, I retrieved a kitchen knife and kept it gripped in my hand all evening.

I sat listening to the radio and thought about my options. Yeah. James paid my bills, and he took care of me, but was it worth getting dissed and having him constantly beat on me, and pretending to be happy? Can this really be my life? Was I blinded by a big dick and a fine-looking face? I went into the bathroom and peered at my reflection. “Jade, you're too beautiful to be puttin' up wit' this shit.” I needed to find a real man who would appreciate me. James, he didn't appreciate me. He said he loves me, but if what he gave out to me was love, then what was hate?

I glanced at the wall clock and saw that it was a little after eight. I sealed the door with the bolt going across it, thinking,
Will that do any good keeping James's ass out when he comes home?

I went into the bedroom and searched for Officer Reese's card. I thought it was time for that call. I picked up the cordless and slowly dialed his cell phone number. The phone rung about three times until I heard, “Hello, Officer Reese?”

I didn't answer right away.

“Hello?” he repeated.

“Officer Reese . . . Hello, it's Jade,” I said. I was now the nervous one.

“Hey, it's about time you called. How's everything going?” he asked. He was excited hearing my voice.

“It could be better,” I said.

“Oh. You're not in any trouble?” he asked with concern.

“Everyday is a problem for me,” I replied. “Are you at work right now?”

“Yeah, but I'm on lunch. We can talk.”

“I don't wanna get you in any trouble.”

“No, not at all. I definitely have time to talk to you.”

I smiled. It was nice hearing someone say that they had time for me. I became quiet over the phone, not knowing what to say.

“Jade, you still there?” Officer Reese asked.

“I'm still here, Officer Reese.”

“Hey, do me one favor, don't keep referring to me as Officer Reese. If we're gonna be friends, then you need to start calling me Casey.

“That's a nice name.”

“It's cute . . . thank you.”

I became quiet again. James crawled into my thoughts. I wanted to feel safe. I guess that's why I called up Officer Reese. I wanted to hear his voice, and to be honest, I wanted to feel protected.

“Jade, you're quieting up on me again. Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah. Everything's okay,” I lied.

“Do you need me to come by there and check up on you?”

“There's no need for that. I'm a big girl.”

He tittered, “Well—”

“Oh, you starting to have jokes about my size already,” I joked.

“Nah, it wasn't even like that.”

I smiled and chuckled just a little, getting my mind off of James somewhat.

“So, Jade, when are we gonna go out? I wanna have a decent date with you. I want to see you.”

“When are you off?”

“I'm off next week—Thanksgiving, and that Friday too.”

“I'm good then too. But I know you'll probably want to spend Thanksgiving with your family.”

“I do, but you know what, I want you to come along too,” he suggested. I was shocked.

“What? . . . Uh. I can't, Officer Reese.”

“Hey, hey, what I tell you about calling me Officer Reese?”

“Okay, I'm sorry, Casey. But I can't meet your family. You don't know me like that.”

“Jade, how can we be friends if I can't bring you around my family? Hey, as long as you're black, a female, and completely beautiful, my peoples won't mind. They are gonna love you.”

I sighed. He didn't know me from a hole in the wall, and here he was willing to introduce me to his people that easily. I felt somewhat flattered, but I was nervous.

“I'll do it . . . but under one condition,” I stated.

“And what's that?”

“That we see each other before Thanksgiving,” I told him.

“Okay, not a problem. I'm definitely looking forward to it,” he cheerfully said.

“Okay.”

“When? I work the three-to-eleven shifts in the day. So we can meet before my shift or after my shift. You decide.”

“How about after your shift? I'll meet you somewhere.”

“That's cool with me. You pick the place.”

“I was hopin' you would,” I said.

“Um . . . do you know where Chantell's is at on Merrick?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, meet me there Monday night around midnight. It gives me time to run home and freshen up for you.”

“Monday night around midnight it is,” I repeated.

“So, I'm definitely looking forward to seeing you,” Casey said.

“Same here,” I told him.

I hung up with a smile on my face. But that smile and warm feeling were short-lived, when I suddenly heard banging and James shouting at my door.

“Jade! Bitch, you fuckin' crazy! Bitch, open up this fuckin' door! You threw all of my shit out of the goddamn window. Bitch, I'll fuckin' kill you!” he shouted from behind the bolted door like a fucking madman. The only thing that kept him from entering the apartment and coming at me was the bolt I put across the door from the inside. He had the door unlocked, but he couldn't push it in any further; the dead bolt prevented him from pushing his way into the crib.

I screamed and reached for my knife.

“James, go away. I don't want you here!” I yelled. I was terrified.

“Jade, open the fuckin' door!” he yelled, kicking and banging against the door, trying to force entry. “Bitch, you must be stupid! Open the fuckin' door now, Jade. Open the fuckin' door, you stupid bitch!”

Every time I heard his threats and screams, I cringed and scurried into a corner, crying and fearing for my life.

“James, go away before I call the cops!” I yelled. “I'm not fuckin' playin' wit' you anymore! I'm callin' the cops on you. I don't want you here anymore!”

“Why you had to throw my shit out the window like that? You fuckin' over-reactin', Jade. It ain't that damn serious!”

“Yes, it is,” I countered.

“Bitch, I ain't goin' no-fuckin'-where. I live here too. Who put you up to this? That bitch, Camille, huh . . . she did this? She told you to toss my shit out the fuckin' window like that? She can get it too. . . .
Now open up this fuckin' door now, bitch!
” He screamed so loud and kicked the door so hard that I thought he actually succeeded and made his way into the room.

“James, go away . . . please . . . go the fuck away!” I had the phone gripped in my hand and was tempted to press 911.

“Hey, I'm callin' the cops!” I heard a neighbor shout. “It ain't no need for all this goddamn racket up in this building.”

“Bitch, I'm comin' back!” James said.

I was balled up in the corner, crying, with a kitchen knife gripped in one hand and the cordless in the other. I was shaking, and actually fearing for my life. James was crazy. And I didn't know what to do.

I stayed scrunched up in the corner for several moments, trying to get myself together. My tears stopped, and I got up, went to the door, and saw that James almost succeeded in kicking in the door. It was almost pushed back and looking soon to come off the hinges. I sighed. I had to get out. I had to do sumthin'. I knew for sure that I didn't want to end up on the ten-o'clock news one night.

Y
ou and her did that . . . fo' real?” Cream asked in disbelief. I told him about Jade's situation and how fucked up James was, so we had to toss all of his shit out the window. He laughed about it.

“Yeah, we did. . . . Fuck that nigga. He ain't gonna keep disrespectin' my girl like that, and keep thinkin' he gonna keep gettin' away wit' it. She had to make a stand. So I helped her,” I said, my voice sounding a bit irate.

Cream smiled as he drove, clutching the steering wheel and peering out the windshield. We were on Long Island, on a Sunday evening, and it was a beautiful day out, despite the cold. I was happy being with Cream.

“Camille, you a gully ass, bitch. . . . No disrespect,” he proclaimed.

“None taken.”

“Yo, I feel you, though any man that puts a hand on his woman, or any woman at all, should be put in the fuckin' ground . . . fo' real. I don't play that. He ain't beefin' wit' you, right?” Cream asked.

“Nah. He don't fuck wit' me. But he fuckin' wit' my home-girl, and if you fuck wit' her, then that's like messin' wit' me. Jade and I, we sistas. We tight. We like family. . . . Nah, fuck that, we
is
family,” I stated proudly.

“I hear that. Sometimes your peoples close to you can be all you got in this world . . . and that's why you stick by them through thick and thin,” Cream said, glancing at me.