Stripping Asjiah II (21 page)

Money
Her desires leave a sticky trail across my face, seems as though I‟ve found my guilty pleasure. A taste I‟ve longed to acquire. I kiss her aggressively as we exchange her desires, allowing her to indulge in her own sweetness.
By the sound of it, I can tell that nigga CJ wasn‟t hitting it right, she lacks experience; no fault of hers, she just didn‟t have the right teacher. Her body is tight, untainted like most, fresh clay to be molded within the right hands, my hands.
I‟m gentle yet firm enough to get her to submit and allow me to have my way with her.
I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, and then bite the left side of her neck right above her collarbone.
I want to ask but I‟m afraid the sound of my voice will bring her back to reality and she may second guess what she‟s doing. I keep my eyes locked onto hers. I want her to be certain she‟s ready. I don‟t want to move too fast.
“Are you sure?”
her.

I wanted to scream out YES! But instead I simply nod my head in agreement.
I wrap my arms around him; eyes rolling to the back of my head as he enters me.
I take a deep breath, try to hold back and muffle cries of pleasure.
“N‟uh uh, let it out.”
He sucks on my neck again causing me to whimper sounds of ecstasy.
The heat that‟s being created between the sheets only heightens our passion as I mimic his movements, thrusting myself into him as he pulls away from me. Our bodies play together like the strings on a violin; a symphony that‟s been perfectly orchestrated just for us.
I separate myself from him long enough to disappear under the covers. Intermittently I use my hand more than my mouth, stroking him to the point of ejaculation, allowing him to see the finish line but not reach it.
Not yet.

Money Fuck.
She‟s driving me crazy.
Her eyes are drunk with sex, her body high off lust. I reenter her, keeping her flat on her back but positioning her in such a way that we look like scissors.
“I want you to tell me each time you cum, and you bet not stop.”
I pull her hair and listen to her whine, the dimples in her back flirting with me each time her ass bounces against me.
Her voice is high pitched, an intense melody that tells me she‟s about to climax. I feel it too; I pull her closer to me, she quivers as our bodies convulse in rhythmic pulses and we reach bliss together.

Asjiah
Our hearts were in competition with each other. I laid on his chest losing myself in their synchronization, marinating in previous events.
I rolled over on my side so I could look at him under the moonlight. I wanted to apologize for bringing him into this chaos I called my life, to tell him how I truly felt about him but I didn‟t want him to feel as though I was just sprung off his sex. I needed an expression that would encompass all of my thoughts and as he turned and looked back at me, I said it.
“I love you Jason.”

“I don‟t want it.”
Angel pushed the paper across the table and folded his hands.

“But she wo uld want you to have it. She worked hard to make sure we would be taken care of in case anything happened to her and you‟re just going to throw it away?”

I folded the letter and placed it in my pocket. I was just as stunned as he was. To know that all this time we were made to believe that we didn‟t have anything that we had to resort to other means to survive when all the while Marie had this in her possession. Documents that stated we were beneficiaries of individual trust funds that our mother had set up.

Once I realized what I had I visited the lawyer and had everything transferred out of her name into mine. I couldn‟t touch Angel‟s account even though I advised him to do the same. I didn‟t trust her, we had been lied to for this long so who knew what would happen if she remained the primary account holder.

“But Angel -
“It‟s blood money. Money we inherit only because our mother is dead, money that they feel should be their‟s because they had to take care of us when in all actuality they haven‟t done shit but cause us more pain. I‟ve earned my own money. Stood outside on the corner hustling ever since she kicked me out. I don‟t need it. Fuck them. They can have it.”
I didn‟t want to argue with him. He was getting upset and I didn‟t want to anger him any further. Instead I would take it and put it away in a safety deposit box, somewhere it would be safe.
“I wish you would‟ve told me about the baby.”
“For what? There‟s nothing you or anyone else could‟ve done to prevent what happened. As cliché as it sounds, everything happens for a reason and I can choose to believe that or drive myself nuts thinking about what I lost.”
“I‟m just glad you‟re okay.”
I tried to read his face, “Are you okay? I heard about Stacey.”
“So,” Angel remained poised even though his words were covered in sorrow.
“I know you loved her, I‟m so sorry things had to turn out that way.”
“It‟s all for the better, she didn‟t deserve me anyway.”
I was relieved to see him smile, as bad as it may sound; I think he found comfort in her death. That her absence somehow brought him peace and released him from the torment he was feeling. I didn‟t ask for details pertaining to what happened to her or LT, I knew he would tell me “the less I knew the better” so I left it at that.
“I know you said not to make a big fuss over your birthday but I brought you something.”
“What is this?”
I smiled and waited for him to open the envelope.
The sight of her face made him cry, not out of sadness, this time I could tell they were happy tears. Remnants of her were few and far between so when I found this, I knew I had to give it to him.
“Who gave this to you?”
“Grandma-me found it, it was in one of her photo albums.”
The picture was of Angel, my mother and I. It looked like it had been shot in a Sears studio. Autumn leaves as the background and her standing beside us with a hand on each of our shoulders. I was maybe all of four which would‟ve made Angel seven at the time.
“All of our memories of her don‟t have to bring sadness.”
“Thank you A‟, this really means a lot.”
I hugged my brother and promised to visit him again next week, “Happy Birthday Angel.”

C hristmas, a holiday that I lost interest in when my family was dismantled, but thanks to Money, this year would be different.

Grandma-m e didn‟t really do the whole decorating thing but somehow she allowed him to talk her into letting us have a tree. So here we were in the living room, tossing icicles and hanging ornaments, including Bear, who was wearing a Santa hat.

Our relationship had flourished since my “incident”, or should I say intensified because it was evident that we always had feelings for each other.
I realized in the time we spent together that what I felt for CJ was merely adolescent infatuation. I never wanted anything from him except loyalty and honesty but he couldn‟t give me that. I‟m not saying that everyday was a bad one because it wasn‟t; I honestly thought I loved him but when push came to shove I was graciously offered heartbreak and betrayal time after time. I thought we could patch things up, move on and do what was best for our child, but that idea died right along with my baby.

I don‟t know if he had anything to do with what Corey did to me; I hadn‟t seen him since Halloween. I heard he moved to Cincinnati, somesay he‟s in jail, he hasn‟t tried to contact me so I figure, if he really cared, he‟d make it known. What I do know is karma is a bitch. One way or another what goes around comes around.

When I was younger, Angel and I would sneak downstairs at midnight and grab one toy each from underneath the tree, race back up to his room and open them. Of course Angel was absent so that tradition was being reenacted with Money and Grandma-me.

I smiled as she blushed and took the box from me. “Pooh, you didn‟t have to get me anything.”
“Of course I did.”

The rattling of paper made Bears ears stand up and his nub wagged as he waited for her to drop it on the floor.
Her eyes watered and her nose turned red, “Oh my, he‟s beautiful.”
She was holding a silver frame, I had it engraved so it read „Every Pooh needs a honey pot‟ and underneath it “Ricordati di me” translated into English meant
„Remember Me‟ in Italian.
The photo was of baby Jai during the brief time that I was allowed to hold him before he was taken away. At the small ceremony we had for him I asked for a closed casket because it was too much for me to bare, she wasn‟t able to see him so I knew this photo would mean a lot to her.
I felt a familiar lump in my throat and Money must‟ve picked up on the sudden change of my mood because he handed me my gift next, a jewelry box.
“Open it.”
My hands shook as I undid the bow and opened the tiny package. Inside was a necklace with a key on it covered in black and white diamonds.
“It‟s so pretty!”
“You‟re not mad are you? Were you expecting a ring?”
“No.” I twisted my lips up, this time it was my turn to blush.
Money laughed at my all too familiar expression. “I got something better,” He pulled a chain from underneath his sweater. Hanging from his necklace was a safe that matched my charm.
“I had to get something a little more manly, I can‟t be walking around here with a heart around my neck.”
Grandma-me and I giggled at his assertion of testosterone.
“I love it baby.”
Before he could open the present I got for him the Ten Crack Commandments erupted from his phone signaling a call from Caleb.
“I‟m glad to see you‟re doing better Asjiah, he‟s really good for you.”
She was the closest thing I had to a mother so her approval of Money really meant a lot to me.
“I think he‟s good for the both of us.”
“What did I miss?” Our chit chat was interrupted with a plate of brownies that he carried in from the kitchen.
I tried to read his face but as usual it was impossible. If there was bad news on the other end of the phone I would never know it. We spent the rest of the evening watching Christmas specials and playing games. Once Grandma-me fell asleep he finally revealed the purpose of the call.
“I have another surprise for you.”
“Really, when can I have it?”
“This weekend, we‟re going out. Make sure to dress for the occasion.”

T he Metropolis was nestled in the flats of downtown Cleveland. Depending on where you parked you could see the Nautica Queen cruise ship, in the summertime the view of the water was really nice but it was dead Winter and I was cold.

I wasn‟t really big on going out on New Years Eve but Money had insisted because apparently this was where my surprise was so I donned a black, strapless satin mini dress, and silver sequin stilettos with a matching clutch.

He kept it sexy and simple, dressing in all black with diamonds to compliment his outfit and play off my accessories.

I was a sip away from my third Cranberry and Vodka when he tapped me on the shoulder.
“Your gift is here.”
“What?”
He had to pull my dress down for me as I hopped up from the bar stool and looked around.
“Calm down crazy,” He laughed in between giving me pecks on the lips. “It‟s in the bathroom, once you get it, meet me out front.”
I was really confused now. My surprise was in the bathroom? Why wasn‟t it out in the open so everyone could see it? I didn‟t know whether to ask questions or just follow instructions, I decided on the latter, grabbed my purse and went to the bathroom.
When I entered some Latina girl was standing in the mirror reapplying her makeup practically yelling into a cell phone. It took me a minute to realize the loud mouthed Hispanic chic was Danielle.
I was about to say Hi until she put her finger to her mouth gesturing for me to be quiet. She reached under one of the sinks and handed me a 9mm then pointed towards the stalls.
A toilet flushed and Keyshia walked out.
Danielle waited for her to wash her hands then both of them left the bathroom.
What the fuck was going on?
And then I heard her.
“Can I get some tissue?”
Three months had passed since my miscarriage and for weeks all I thought about was her. What I would do to her if I ever saw her again, how I would make her pay for what she did. After my grief had subsided she was all I thought about. Money offered a welcome distraction but in the back of my mind she was still there. I had everyone looking for her but to no avail, at least that‟s what I thought.
So this was my surprise, this was the phone call he had gotten. Somehow Caleb had found her.
“TEN!”
The countdown for the New Year had begun.
“Hello? Is anyone in here? Can a bitch get some toilet paper so I can wipe my pussy?”
I walked toward her voice and stopped in front of the stall.
“NINE!”
“Are you just gonna stand-
I put everything I had into my right foot and kicked the door open; her statement was cut short with the sound of metal hitting her nose.
“Eight!”
“What the fuck?”
Calmly I watched her as she held her hand to her face and blood trickled out of her nostril.
“You thought you could just stomp me out in an elevator and leave me for dead?” I punched her with my free hand and snatched her hair back so she was facing me.
“SEVEN!”

“You thought you could kill my baby and get away with the shit?”
The sound of the gun being cocked echoed through
the lavatory.
“Asjiah I…”
BANG!
I stood there and watched the tiny hole in her forehead ooze blood as her pupils dilated.
BANG!
BANG!
“Stop Asjiah, A‟ stop.”
Empty, the gun continued to click as I repeatedly pulled the trigger. Danielle pried the iron out of my hand handing it to Keyshia which she cleaned off then placed into my clutch. Danielle fixed my hair and straightened my dress making sure I looked normal.
We split up, vanishing into the crowd as the final seconds of 2000 ticked off the clock.
Unruffled, I switched to the click clack noise of my heels leading me to the Camry.
As we pulled out of the parking lot Money leaned over and kissed me, “Happy New Year A‟.”

Palm trees sway to the summer‟s breeze as seagulls soar through the sky. The scent of the Pacific Ocean reminds me of days spent on the beach building sandcastles, playing chicken with the waves as they rise to the shore.

I‟ve been here before.
The laughter of innocent children running around on the boardwalk eating cotton candy, trying to hold the gigantic teddy bears they won from aiming water guns at a bull‟s-eye.
These are my memories being watched from a car window behind a glass that I want to roll down just so I can stick my hand out into the wind with hopes of touching my past.
I wish I could talk to the adolescent me; hold her hand and try to prepare her for what‟s to come. I‟d make her promise that no matter how hard things became that she would always smile. I‟d tell her to find a place that she could escape to in her mind that would allow her to hide from the horrors of the world, I‟d encourage her to be strong and regardless of what they tell her, as much as they will try to let memories fade, never forget California.
I want to take a detour. Go to the Monterey bay Aquarium, the San Diego Zoo, and Great America. I want to be six again and ride my bike up and down the hills of Thomas Court but I heard the military base we used to live on is no longer there.
I‟d like to be anywhere than where I am now.
The landscape is beautiful and the backdrop shows mountain tops making it easy to mistake this place for something else than what it really is but disassociation won‟t allow me to distort my reality any longer.
I sign my name along with a series of numbers, empty my pockets and wait for the door to open.
I want to turn around, to go back the way I came and never look back but my steps have already been ordered. Movements calculated, robotic almost.
I walk into another building and it almost feels like I‟m in a museum, in some ironic way I guess I am. Looking at statues, formulating my own conclusion of what their lives used to be like before they were sent here. I step into an area the size of a closet and hand my ID to the man behind the gate, another door, last time to turn around.
I enter what looks like a sunroom only larger, vending machines line the walls and tables are scattered across the open space. I find a seat and wait. There‟s a painting of dolphins on the wall that reminds me of days when I used to go to work with her and watch the untamed waters slam against the rocks, catching an occasional glimpse of a whale diving above the surface. Spanish Bay was my playground.
I pull my sleeves over my hands so that you can barely see my fingers, fold my arms, my leg begins to twitch. Anxiety sets in.
I can‟t look directly in his face, apprehension won‟t allow it. I‟m scared that I‟ll drown in seas of blue and drift off with the undertow back to our old house; I‟ll forget my purpose for being here.
Time has stood still for him or maybe I just kept him frozen in my mind. His skin is the same color of the vanilla ice cream my grandfather used to make. Hair the same rich black as a Raven‟s feathers, iris‟s a deeper blue like the waters in Jamaica. My hands look like his only smaller. Each mole is in the same spot, each freckle on my face identical to his. I‟m a complete replica of his image, the apple of his eye.
I‟ve gone over this moment so many times before, fast forward through all the pleasantries, rewind to replay better days, pressing stop to capture their smiles. I want to mute out the sound; I don‟t want to hear his voice, afraid that once I press play he‟ll no longer be the hero I remember but the villain he became.
I can tell he‟s happy to see me, to him I‟m still his baby girl.
He clears his throat.
I look at the exit.
His tone is apologetic, “Asjiah.”
“Hello Father.”