The Preachers Son (5 page)

“The deacons’ choir? Oh, Lord,” Anita muttered, almost instantly picking up her dress. She was more panicked now than when she was under my desk with my parents in the room. “All my husband’s friends are members of that choir. I can’t let them see me like this.”

I frowned as I watched her get dressed. A large part of me wished she’d just say fuck it and stay, but I knew she wouldn’t do that. Anita wanted the best of both worlds. She wanted the deacon’s money and my body. What she didn’t know was that, by picking up her clothes, she had just lost the latter.

“Don’t look so sad, baby. I’m gonna make it up to you,” she promised. “We just have to get out of here. Why don’t we meet at the Jet Motel? You know, just like old times.” She gave me a smile before glancing at the door nervously.

“I don’t think so, Anita. As long as you’re with the deacon, we’re over.” I picked up my briefcase and walked past Anita toward the door.

Anita’s eyes got small and her face got this real evil look. “You don’t get it, do you, Dante? We’re not over until I say we’re over. And I haven’t said we’re over, so I’ll see you at work tomorrow. You might wanna bring some condoms.”

Her voice gave me goose bumps but I didn’t back down.

“Go home, Anita, ’cause you’re starting to scare me,” I told her as I left the office.

I’d been dreaming one of those good dreams. You know, the kind that you can control. The kind where everything you want just seems to happen exactly the way you want it to happen. Well, in my dream, I was on a deserted beach lying on a blanket while Morris Chestnut rubbed suntan lotion on my back and Nelly fed me grapes. It was one of those dreams where neither of them seemed to care about sex. All they cared about was making
me
happy, and believe it or not, that turned me on. There is nothing sexier than a guy who wants to be with you just because you’re you and not because his hormones or his boys are telling him he needs to get between your legs, because we all know guys don’t care ’bout nothing and no one but themselves.

“Nelly,” I whispered. “Why don’t you take off your clothes?”

“You sure?” he asked, smiling at me with those bedroom eyes of his.

I nodded and he placed the bowl of grapes on the blanket. He stood in front of me then snapped his fingers and this slow, erotic music started playing. A few seconds later, he was swaying his hips to the beat, teasing me with his movements. Not long after that, Morris was standing next to him and the two of them were both taking off their shirts like they were Chippendale’s dancers.

“Tanisha. Tanisha.” A voice called, but it wasn’t Nelly and it wasn’t Morris either. It was a familiar voice but I just couldn’t make it out, and to be honest, I didn’t want to. I had other things on my mind. Nelly and Morris were just about to take their pants off, but the voice just kept calling me. The more it called, the more my dream guys seemed to fade away until finally they were both gone.

“Tanisha! Tanisha!”

“What?” I growled angrily in frustration. I was awake now, and when I opened my eyes, there was my twelve-year-old brother Aubrey standing in front of the living room sofa I used for a bed. All he was wearing was a dingy pair of drawers. “What you want, Aubrey?”

“I’m hungry,” he whined.

“So? Go make you a bowl of Cap’n Crunch,” I snapped, closing my eyes as I tried to snuggle under the covers and get back to my dream. “I just got home from work a couple of hours ago.”

“There ain’t no Cap’n Crunch and there ain’t no milk,” he answered.

“Stop lying, Aubrey.” I lifted my head, shooting him a dirty look.

“I’m not lying, Tanisha. Mommy’s friends came over last night and ate all the cereal and drank up all the milk.” His words angered me. I’d bought that cereal and a quart of milk before I left for work last night just so he’d have something to eat before he went to school.

“Goddammit!” Now I was pissed off. Not at my brother, but my mother. This shit didn’t make any sense. What kind of mother lets people come in her house and eat the only food she has for her children? I turned back over and stared at my little brother. He was a pain in the ass at times, but he was a good kid. Unlike me, he liked school and was good at it. He was gonna make something of himself one day. Go to college and possibly be a doctor, or maybe a lawyer. I was gonna make sure of that.

“Where’s Mommy?” I asked angrily.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She wasn’t in her room when I got up.”

“It figures,” I mumbled.

I glanced at the clock on the living room wall. It was 7:15
A.M
. I’d only been home from work a couple of hours, but when I came into the house, my mother had been in her bedroom with the door shut, talking to somebody. Probably some trick or one of her smoking buddies—and I don’t mean cigarettes. I hate to admit it, but my mom’s a crackhead. Been one for years.

“What you want for breakfast, Aubrey?” I sighed.

“Pancakes.” He smiled.

“Okay.” I sat up on the sofa. Morris and Nelly were gonna have to wait until I got my little brother off to school. “Hand me my sweatpants.” He handed them to me and I slipped into them. Then I reached over on the sofa and searched for my scarf before heading into the bathroom.

Five minutes later I was walking down 109th Street toward Guy Brewer Boulevard and the little C-Town supermarket three blocks away. I could have gone to the bodega a block away, but I was hoping to spot my mother on the boulevard and give her a piece of my mind. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be found. The only people I saw on the boulevard were those who were waiting for the bus, and the losers who hung around the corner near the supermarket.

When I walked up, the losers started whistling and catcalling at me like a bunch of dogs in heat. I didn’t pay them no mind, though. I was used to it. Even with a scarf, a beat-up T-shirt, and a baggy old pair of sweatpants, there was no hiding my body. God had blessed me with a pair of perfect D-cup titties that stood straight up and an ass that could make Jennifer Lopez jealous. I was used to the attention from both men and women, but I knew the bitch in me was about to come out when one of those fools ran to the supermarket entrance and blocked my way.

“What’s up,
baby
? You sure lookin’ good today.” His name was Joe-Joe and he had so much alcohol on his breath it almost knocked me down. The one major drawback to living in my neighborhood was you never meet any real men, just thugs and creeps like Joe-Joe.

“Thank you,” I said politely, hoping that I could just sidestep him and go into the market. But as always when it came to these fools on the boulevard, he took my kindness for weakness and wouldn’t let me pass.

“Hey, baby. Where you going in such a rush? I wanna talk to you. You remember me, don’t you? I’m Joe-Joe. We talked at the club a couple weeks ago. I’m the guy that knows your momma, ’member?” I glanced at my watch. I didn’t have time for this shit. I had to get Aubrey off to school so he wouldn’t be late.

“Yeah, Joe-Joe, I remember you. Now could you please let me pass? I got some shopping to do.” I tried to push my way past but he grabbed my arm.

“What, you too good to talk to me or something? You wasn’t too good to take my money two weeks ago, was you?” He started grinning like there was more to it than there really was, and his friends all started laughing. I pulled my arm free and got up in his face.

“Please, nigga, don’t be acting like you some big spender, ’cause your ass only gave me a dollar. Matter of fact, you can have that shit back right now with interest if you want it. What I owe you, a dollar twenty-five?” His friends laughed even harder this time and I was hoping this little scene was over, but unfortunately it wasn’t.

“Yeah, that’s about right, since everyone knows you ain’t but a quarter of the woman your momma is, and she ain’t nothin’ but a five-dollar ho.” Of course his little peanut gallery was damn near on the ground cracking up now. It was a good thing I didn’t have my blade, because I’d probably be on my way to central booking for attempted murder.

“Well, if we hoes, at least we get paid, Joe-Joe. From what I hear, everyone on the block done had your wife for free. Everyone but you, that is. But now’s your chance. I just passed your house and the line outside your door was down to about ten. Matter of fact, if you ask my twelve-year-old brother, he might let you cut the line.”

His friends were laughing so loud it sounded like they were crying. Joe-Joe didn’t have a comeback for this one. He just stood there stunned. That’s when I took the opportunity to push my way past him and into the safety of the store.

“That’ll be six seventy-six,” the cashier said nonchalantly, staring at her fingernails as if behind her register was the last place she wanted to be at seven-thirty in the morning. I nodded then reached in my bag for my wallet, only to pull my hand out empty.

“Where the fuck is my wallet?” I thought out loud, looking up at the cashier in a panic. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, “Don’t look at me.”

The first thing that came to my mind was that my mother had stolen it. She had a habit of going through my things while I was asleep and stealing whatever money she could find. But then I remembered I’d purposely taken my wallet out of my bag and placed it under the sofa cushion just for that reason. I let out a thankful sigh then gave the cashier a weak, embarrassed smile.

“I left my wallet at my house. Can you hold this to the side while I run home and get it? I’ll be back in five minutes. I promise. I only live down the block.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Damn, now I gotta void this shit outta my register. Do you know how much of a pain in the ass that is?” she mumbled as she picked up the intercom from next to her register.

I wanted to say, “No, and I really don’t care. Just do your fucking job,” but instead I smiled weakly and said, “Sorry.”

The girl sucked her teeth then spoke into the intercom. Her voice echoed throughout the store. “I need a manager at register one for a void. A manager at register one, please, for a void.”

There was an immediate grumbling from the five or six customers who were standing behind me. Not that I could blame them. The store only had one register open, and now, thanks to me, it was closed.

“How much is her stuff?” a male voice asked from behind.

“Six seventy-six,” the girl replied.

“I got her. Just add this to it.” I turned around and had to check myself because the brother who stepped out of the line was drop-dead gorgeous. I flashed him my patented you-know-you-want-me smile, but he barely looked at me as he handed the cashier a bottle of water, a sandwich, and a twenty-dollar bill. Damn, of all the times to come out the house lookin’ busted. I musta looked like a female version of Flava Flav with that multicolored scarf wrapped around my head and no makeup. Not to mention the fact that my sweat-suit didn’t match and had a big bleach stain on it. But busted or not, I wanted that brother to notice me.

“Thanks,” I said in my sexiest voice. “I can pay you back. We just have to run by my house. I live right up the block.” If I could get him to the house, then at least I could run upstairs and take off the scarf and put on some makeup before he left.

“Don’t worry about it, sister. I’m in a little bit of a rush.” He took his change then picked up my bag and handed it to me before heading toward the door.

“But, but…” I had to catch my breath as I watched him walk away. Not only was he tall and fine, he was bowlegged, too.
Mmm, mmm, mmm
, I thought,
that was so damn fine!
I also appreciated the fact that he wasn’t thugged out like the rest of the brothers around my way. He was wearing a New York Jets throwback jersey and a pair of baggy jeans, but he carried himself like a gentleman, not a wannabe killer. Still, it was obvious from his muscular arms and V-shaped chest that he was far from being a punk.
Shit, why the fuck didn’t I get dressed before I left the house?

I glanced at the cashier and she said, “Fuck it. If he don’t want the money, let his ass go.”

“I don’t care about the money,” I said. “Did you see how fine he was? I want him.”

“Yeah, he was cute, but he wasn’t all that.”

“Yes he was,” I stated before heading toward him and the front door. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to say when I caught up to him, but I’m the type of woman who knows what she wants, and I wanted him.

“Excuse me, excuse me!” I yelled, hoping to catch his attention. I caught up to him right in front of the automatic doors and he looked my way. He just wasn’t looking at me the way I was looking at him.

“Did I forget something?” he asked.

I contemplated saying, “Yeah—me,” but instead I said, “Sorta,” as I leaned against the storefront glass.

“Look, I can’t let you pay for this stuff without paying you back. Is there any way for me to get in touch with you so I can give you back your money?”

He patted his shirt pocket impatiently then checked his pants pocket, pulling out some kind of postcard or party flyer. “I don’t have any business cards on me and I’m headed over to Brooklyn right now. Just forget the money, sister, aw’ight? It’s no big deal.”

He turned to the door and I grabbed his arm.

“It’s a big deal to me,” I said firmly. “I don’t need charity. I work for a living.”

“You sure are persistent, aren’t you?”

“I usually get what I want,” I told him with a smile. I was hoping that he might at least look at my titties or my ass or something to show he had some interest, but the way he was acting I was starting to think he might be gay.

“I’m starting to believe you. You think I can have my arm back?”

“Oh, sorry.” I gave him an embarrassed look as I let him go. I’d completely forgotten that I was holding on to his arm.

“Okay, look, if you really wanna pay me back, I’m gonna be at the African Poetry Theater tomorrow night. You can bring it to me there.” He handed me the postcard he was carrying and I read the bold type that announced an open mike poetry reading.

“Okay, I’ll see you then. I like poetry.” I smiled.

He nodded then motioned toward the door with his hand as if to say,
After you
. I took his cue and exited. It was nice to be treated like a lady for once, even if he didn’t seem interested in me. That feeling didn’t last long, though, because when I got outside, Joe-Joe and his cronies were still hanging around.

“So, what was that shit you was talking a little while ago?” Joe-Joe asked as he approached me.

I was about to tell Joe-Joe not to start no shit, but before I could speak, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome stepped up and got in Joe-Joe’s face.

“Yo, my man! Is there a problem?” Once Joe-Joe realized I was with him, it was a wrap.

“Nah, man, no problem. No problem at all,” Joe-Joe explained. He turned around and started talking to his boys like nothing had ever happened.

“Thanks. I guess that’s twice you saved me this morning, and I don’t even know your name,” I told him as we walked toward the corner.

“Oh, my bad. I’m sorry. My mom taught me better than that. My name’s Dante.” He stuck out his hand.

“Well, your mother sounds like someone I’d like to meet, Dante.” I took his hand. “Everyone calls me Tanisha.”

“Tanisha, huh? All right, Ms. Tanisha, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled and I saw his pearly white teeth for the first time.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” I blushed and shook his hand. We walked up the block a little ways toward my house and he stopped in front of a pretty silver SUV. “So, Dante, how come I’ve never seen you before?”