slowed. As I neared, I could see Tomica’s face. Her eyes tried to
warn me. That’s when I noticed what was wrong. Tomica and
Evette’s hands were in the air. It was then that I recognized the
undercover cop from the store. He had his gun pointed at them
with one hand, and in the other, he held the stolen bracelet. My
heart somersaulted in my chest as my breathing quickened.
Without thinking, I reacted like a man does in war, or a lesson
taught in the ghetto, the survival instinct kicked in. Raw energy
seized my body. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. This
was the concrete jungle. In it, life was a conquest of kill or be
killed. If gunplay could have earned me a medal, I would have
won its highest honor. In one quick motion, I reached into my
back pulling out my gun, placing it against the cop’s skull. In the
distance I heard screams as people scurried about.
“Move, muthafucka, and I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”
In my peripheral vision, I saw a lady pick up her small toddler and
take off r unning. Pandemonium quickly was all around me.
“Pha-pha-pleeze don’t kill me,” the frightful cop drawled. “I
got a wife and two kids.” Cars drove by with their occupants look-
ing on in horror.
“Get his gun,” I said to Tomica. Both women were frozen like
statues. They were going to get me busted. I had to move fast. I
heard sirens in the distance.
“Get on your knees cracka!” I commanded as I snatched his
gun placing it into my pocket and then I grabbed the bracelet. Just
up ahead, I saw the blue and white police car turn into the park-
ing lot. With all my might, I hit the officer upside the head with
the butt of my gun. His blood got on my suit as he fell backward
onto the concrete like a sack of rocks. I was moving fast. Tomica
120
L i f e
and Evette were still in a state of shock. I jumped into the car, fully
intent on leaving their so-called professional asses right there. All
their sophistication, savvy and wit had failed them miserably and
now when it came to the last resort, brute force with a twist of
some real gangsta shit, they were just as intimidated as the victim.
I star ted the engine and they jumped in the car. I pulled off, there
was no traffic in front of me. I drove slow, as inconspicuously as
possible. There was only one way in and one way out. Up ahead
the police car was coming slowly toward me. I had my gun on my
lap with my hand on the trigger. I smiled and moved my lips like
I was heavy into conversation with my lady friends.
“There’s the police,” Tomica said, panic stricken.
“Bitch, I see them. Smile like you ain’t tryin to go back to the
chain gang,” I said between clinched teeth, wondering how could
she be so fucking dumb.
As we passed the police, they stared into the car. Thank God
they were slowed down by the oncoming traffic. It would be a
minute before they reached the unconscious cop. As soon as I
turned onto the main street, police cars came from every direc-
tion, lights blaring. I punched the gas. Up a block, I turned on a
side street taking the back way. I pushed the tape in on the tape
deck. UGK was rapping about having a pocket full of stones. I
thought about the diamonds in my pocket and drove faster. A
police car raced by us. I knew where they were going, to the place
I had just left. I just knew there would be an all-points bulletin out
for the car.
I glanced over to see Tomica staring at me. Whatever it was
written on her face I couldn’t read. She had her mouth open like
she had lockjaw or some shit. I needed to get back to the hotel and
fast. For some reason, I don’t know, I looked over at Tomica and
smirked. I thought about the lame game and now who tricked
who. I guess it was my manly ego, or just that triumphant feeling
a hustler gets when he hits a good lick. That ruthlessness a thug
feels, like liquid fire surging through my veins. Yeah, I was keepin’
it gangsta!
121
L i f e
I pulled into the hotel with my thoughts heavy on my mind.
Just the fact that we had been silent all the way back from the
caper gave me an advantage, a kind of leverage that I fully intend-
ed to exploit. Now it was time to execute plan B, “Big Pimpin.”
Break these hoes. Shit, they were going to do it to me if I let them.
I knew that I still had to use some finesse but with a different tech-
nique. I spun around fast in my seat, placing my arm around
Tomica’s headrest. It startled her. Now they were watching me
with their full attention. I knew that I held all the advantages.
Actually, it was the thirty thousand dollar bracelet in my pocket.
I turned, glancing back and for th at both of them.
“That shit ya’ll bitches pulled back there was not proper.
Could have got a nigga kilt,” I said, pointing my finger at Tomica,
my voice cold, impassive. “You understand me?!” I yelled. Tomica
flinched fearfully. I turned to look at Evette. She was already nod-
ding her head up and down, starry eyes brimming with tears.
Good
, I thought to myself. Give them a large dose of fear. In my
mind I wondered where they had all that money stashed and just
how was I going to take it. I thought about the pussy game they
played on me and started to feel sexually aroused. I thought about
what I was going to do to them with those same handcuffs.
Tomica primed her lips to speak like she was considering every
word carefully.
“I didn’t know that you was packin’ heat, that’s all, but you
don’t have to talk to us like that,” she said tentatively. She sent her
words like a scout to test my temperament. It took a second for
me to read into her ploy.
“Bitch! Did I tell you to talk?” I snapped.
She cringed in her seat, damn near jumped out the window. I
heard every whimper in the back seat. Her mind still held the fresh
memor y of what I had done to the cop. Violence does that to peo-
ple. With that I realized that I had more than enough persuasion
to make them submit to my every whim.
I adjusted my tie, made like I was tr ying to get comfortable.
All eyes were on me. I dropped my voice a few decibels, tried to
122
L i f e
act civil and loving ever y damn minute of the control I was now
feeling over these women. What were they going to do, call the
police on me?
“I really don’t want the bracelet,” I said matter of factly. I lied.
Tomica’s eyes got big as silver dollars. I could hear Evette in the
backseat sniffing back tears.
“Just give me the money ya’ll owe me and we can work some-
thing out.” I smiled sincerely with my own motives.
“Let me have the bracelet,” Tomica said meekly. Her words
hung in the air resonating without an answer. I knew they would
take the bait.
“Ya’ll go back to the room, get comfortable, and I’ma get a lil
&
nbsp; sumpin’ sumpin’ to smoke on and we can get our drank on. I have
a proposition for ya’ll, and we can get our freak on.”
“Proposition? Freak on?” Tomica retorted disdainfully, eyes
narrowing at me. I peered at Evette in the back seat and she looked
at me the way a follower does. She just wanted to be led to safety.
I thought I detected a hint of something in her demeanor. Just
then a blue Lexus pulled into the parking lot. I leaned for ward in
my seat craning my neck not believing what I was seeing. It was
Trina, the bitch that stole my stash. I slouched down in my seat
and watched as she parked the car. Tomica made a face at me, she
was about to say something. I grabbed the gun. Just as Trina was
exiting the car, I took the keys out of the ignition of Tomica’s car
and placed them in my pocket.
“Hey!” Tomica complained.
“Go to the room!” I said getting out of the car, my pace brisk
like a stalker. Trina had not seen me yet. She wore a simple white
dress with flowers, pink sandals with a Gucci ankle bracelet on her
leg. She had shut the car door retrieving three large shopping bags.
She looked up just as I approached. For a fleeting second, I
thought I saw a smile cross her lips. I slapped her so hard her neck
snapped back and she stumbled holding onto the car to keep her
balance, dropping her bags to the ground.
She wiped her bloody lip with the back of her hand, looked at
123
L i f e
her blood almost examining it. She spit blood at my feet as she
continued to hold her head dignified.
“You didn’t have to hit me out here in the streets. I have your
money, plus more.” Her composure completely caught me off
guard. Not what I was expecting. I grabbed her by the hair. “Bitch,
I’ma kill you!” I said with my face just inches from hers and then
shoved her face away. She picked up the shopping bags. I marched
her right past the car with Tomica and Evette in it. Their breath
fogged up the windows as they watched me abduct a woman in
broad daylight.
The lame?
As soon as I turned the corner, that’s when I saw him, the
white man, watching me. His face looked familiar. As I passed the
car I took a closer look at him, he turned away. I thought nothing
more of it, and continued to focus my attention on Trina. That
white man would come back to haunt me.
*****
124
Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
“The Ultimate Betrayal”
– Hope –
Three years later, life couldn’t have been better. My child was in
preschool, I was attending law school and my husband, Marcus,
had a great job making excellent money. He was far from being
perfect, but he was a good husband and father. We had a big house
out in the suburbs, in a multi-cultural community. For the first
time in my life, a sista was truly happy. I worked as a counselor for
troubled kids for the Department of Corrections. The pay wasn’t
bad, thirty eight thousand dollars a year. I went to school at night
to earn my law degree. In a lot of ways I knew that I was neglect-
ing my child as well as my husband, but I was less than a year
short of earning my degree and all my hard work would come to
fr uition. Upon my graduation I already secretly made plans to
take my family to Walt Disney World and just act like one big-ass
kid with Marcus. At least that was my dream.
For now, the reality was that most days when I came home, I
would be so tired, all I could do was take a quick shower and col-
lapse in the bed. Thank God Marcus was one of them fathers that
enjoyed cleaning and cooking, like it was second nature to him. I
could never understand it. I was just thankful. With him, every-
thing had to be extremely orderly and neat. I wished that he felt
the same way about my body and our sex life. Our sex life suffered
miserably. No matter what I did, the man just did not want no
125
L i f e
nooky. I even went out and bought all kinds of expensive lingerie,
read books on how to rekindle love after marriage and children.
Even bought one of them lovemaking tapes you see advertised in
the back of the
Essence
magazine. Marcus was numb from his
brain down. I even tried to molest him, my own damn husband.
I had never per formed oral sex and was anxious to tr y it on him.
He flatly refused me, saying that it was nasty and sinful. Made me
feel like a slut. I went out and bought myself a woman’s best
friend, the ultimate toy. I named it Big Boy. All a sister needed was
two D batteries and an imagination. I convinced myself that
things would change, just give it time. Besides, I realized that not
being at home a lot of times was placing strain on our marriage.
In my heart I knew that once I started practicing law and we were
able to take a long vacation, Marcus would change. In a lot of
ways, like many other women, I learned to love without sex and
that would have to suffice. Marcus and I lived on two separate
islands. Our only real connection was our child and the sad truth
about that was, it wasn’t even his child. I knew that the only rea-
son I accepted my husband’s denial of my body was to purge
myself from a woman’s greatest sin–infidelity that resulted in
my transgressions.
*****
On September 4
, Cathy McMillan, the Judicial Judge for the
th
Ninth District of Tallahassee Juvenile division retired. She was 62
years old. On that day the entire juvenile department held an hon-
orary celebration. A catering ser vice provided lots of good food,
with the state footing the bill. I left work three hours early. With
my son at preschool and my husband at work, I was going to catch
a few Zs in my king sized bed and enjoy some peace and quiet.
Something I learned as a new wife and mother, working and going
to school, you slept when you could, not when you wanted to.
Rest can be a commodity given away for the sake of motherhood.
As I pulled my Benz into the driveway I noticed Marcus’
Range Rover in the carport. He never parked in there.
What is he
126
L i f e
doing home so early from work?
I wondered. Then I had this idea,
it overpowered me.
Sex!
As I hopped out of the car my pace quick-
ened. It felt like I was about to have a hormone attack. Sex was no
longer an option, it was a demand that I was not going to com-
promise. Right then and there I decided that Marcus was going to
give me some or I was going to turn this mutha out. A woman can
only take so much. We hadn’t had sex in over six months.
As I stepped inside our spacious living room, the first thing I
noticed was Marcus’ clothes thrown everywhere, like he was in a
hurr y to take them off. I thought that was particul
arly strange of
him, since he was a neat freak. Hesitantly, I placed my briefcase
and purse on the floor. My woman’s curiosity piqued, my senses
acute to any sight, sound or smell. I kicked off my high-heeled
pumps along with my suit coat. In my stocking feet I followed the
trail of abandoned clothes … up the stairs … to my bedroom
door. My heartbeat was in my throat as I listened astutely. On the
other side of the door I could hear panting, groans and sighs. The
sound of lovemaking. My husband was in my bed, making love to
another woman, on the satin sheets that he would not make love
to me on, in my fucking house. I was enraged! Past the brink of
no return. Insanity. My first thought was to find a gun and blow
both their goddamn brains out! Then I had a better idea. Much
better. I retraced my steps, tiptoeing backward.
I went out to the garage, retrieved the small gas can Marcus
used for the lawn mower. It was full. On my way back in I stepped
in an oil spot in the garage, tracked it back in on my eight thou-
sand dollar Persian rug that I was still making payments on. In the
living room I stopped and got the lighter out of the drawer. I
walked back up the stairs, gasoline in hand, footsteps smearing my
carpet with oil. At the door my hands trembled as I turned the
doorknob. The hump in the sheets confirmed the nightmare. The
two people did not even notice my entrance. I walked closer and
closer with murderous intent. Gas in one hand, lighter in the
other. I began to pour gas all over them and the bed, to set their
bodies into human flames. In their fevered frolic they did not even
127
L i f e
notice me. Then, to my utter disbelief, it was Stan’s hateful eyes
that stared back at me. He threw back the covers and I saw my
husband Marcus underneath him lying on his stomach. They both
looked back at me, then to the gasoline can in hand and it took
only a second for it to dawn on them what I was about to do. The
fumes were a dead giveaway. Can you say, extra crispy courtesy of
gasoline and fear? I flicked the cigarette lighter.
“Noooo!” Stan shrieked and stood up in bed throwing the wet
gasoline covers off of him like that was going to save his ass from