Whispers in the Night (16 page)

“My God,” he gasped, shivering, his skin both hot and cold. “I've never. I've never come like that before. What the fuck is going on?”

He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, the honey-hued model would still be smiling at him through his oozing come. He felt a bowel movement bubbling when he opened his eyes to find Noir still on the page, now spread-eagled, a teasing finger over her glistening chocolate-pink clit. Damon balled up the page and threw it against the wall. It bounced off, falling behind his bed.

I need to lay off the caffeine, or something
, Damon tried to joke, though he felt hollow inside, guilty even, as if he had somehow hurt Nahema.
The bitch is not real
, sanity railed.
Get it together!

“Get it together,” he whispered to himself, exhaling away the craziness in a big gust. His peace of mind lasted all of a few seconds.

“
That . . . took a lot out of me . . . to do that
,” Noir's voice wheezed in his ear.
“Hurry, Damon . . . I need you.”

He shook his head in denial. “This shit can't be real.”

Damon then grabbed his head, painfully squeezing his meaty noggin. “Shut up,” he warned with quiet vehemence. “Shut up.”
Am I losing my mind? Oh God.

“
You're not losing your mind,”
Nahema breathlessly continued, softer currents now brushing against his naked skin, amazingly bringing his flaccid penis back to life.
“We don't have a lot of time. I can only remain on the corporeal plane for a few moments. If you don't want to be alone anymore you have to make a choice . . . now.”

It was madness, he knew, but what if it was real? What if it was his one shot at companionship? Something he had always longed for, but never knew how to make a reality.

And she was offering it to him, begging to be in his life.

If he had one chance, didn't he have to take it? But how?

“Hurry.”
Gossamer lips brushed against his left earlobe, serpentine words dripped venom into his heart, burning away his loneliness, dissolving his fear. Phantom fingers fondled him once more before fading into the ether, perhaps never to touch him again.
Unless I did something about it
, Damon sadly understood, a plan already forming.

He went to his closet and pulled out a metal case. A black .22 caliber pistol was nestled inside it. Damon hated guns, but he had felt a need to have one just in case something crazy popped off. His neighborhood wasn't exactly high society.

He took the gun out of the case, his hands trembling as he loaded it with bullets. Placing the loaded weapon on his bed, he quickly put on his Tamales gear, thankfully unspoiled by his wild orgasm.

Next, he rifled through the mirror cabinet hanging over his bathroom sink, tossing barely used medicine bottles until he found the sleeping pills he was looking for.

As he stepped out of his apartment, in a blue pressed shirt and crisp pair of olive slacks with noticeable bulges in both pockets, Damon Mitchell no longer felt alone.

Chesya Burke

N
aomi walked through the park alone. The night around her seemed to make her dark skin invisible. The path narrowed, forked, and split off into two directions. The right was darker than the left.

She took the right.

She did not hesitate, as she knew exactly where she was headed. She had been there before. She'd left behind the streetlamps long ago; all signs of civilization had faded. Only the night lay ahead. The branches of the nearby trees shook and arched, as if they were arms warning her away.

She tripped over a tree stump that had split straight through the sidewalk, stood, dusted herself off, and walked on. To the right, just past the shadows, she heard rustling in the bushes. She walked toward it.

Suddenly, a loud scream broke the silence and she jumped despite herself. But she knew that voice. She rounded the bend, passed the large oak, and saw them.

Two forms lying naked under the blanket of night. Another scream erupted and Naomi realized it was a shout of pleasure, not pain.

“Colleen!” Naomi called.

The man jumped, surprised by her presence. This park should have been deserted at this time of night. And except for the three of them, it just may have been. Only the drunks and junkies even dared to roam these woods after dark.

He sat up, looked at her, angry.

Naomi recognized him right away; he was one of the local dealers, Torch. He was known for burning the skin off junkies who owed him money, with the lighted tip of a cigarette. Loved the smell of burning flesh, they said.

She didn't care, she had come this far for her sister, and she wouldn't leave without her.

“Colleen,” Naomi said, her words bouncing off the trees and back into her ears. “Get up from there.”

The girl didn't answer.

“Get up, we're going home,” Naomi repeated.

“I ain't goin' nowhere,” her sister said. From beneath the large, dark man her body was almost invisible.

“Get up, damn it!”

“She ain't goin' nowhere, girl, till I get my money's worth,” Torch said. “Now get.”

He lay back down and resumed pumping into her sister.

Naomi walked over to them and pushed him off. “Keep your filthy hands off my sister.”

“Your sister seems filthy enough on her own. You shoulda been here a minute ago when she was suckin' my dick.” He laughed.

Colleen stood up without modesty; breasts and pubic hair shone in the moonlight.

“Get outta here, Nay,” Colleen said.

“Yeah,” Torch agreed. “Before we make this a threesome. You ever done it before, lil' girl?”

Colleen stepped between him and her sister. “She ain't no ho. I'll take care of you.”

“Well, maybe things have changed.” He caressed his genital area. “Come on, let me show you what a real man can do.”

“No,” Colleen said.

“Let's go.” Naomi grabbed her arm.

“Oh no, you don't!” Torch rushed at Colleen and pushed her to the ground. She fell face-forward into the grass. He kicked her in the stomach; she gagged, caught her breath, and coughed. “You stupid trick bitch.” He kicked her again.

He ran toward Naomi. His angry eyes and teeth protruding through a wicked smile were the only things she could see in the darkness. But those were enough. He was going to hurt her. Bad.

He stopped when he saw the silver pistol in her hands, aimed at his head.

“You don't know how to use that piece, lil' girl. Now put it down before I bash your head in with it.” He took a step closer.

“Don't come no closer, man. I swear to God, I'll shoot you. I mean it.”

“No, you won't.” He laughed.

On the ground, Colleen sat up and looked at Naomi. “Where the hell did you get that thing, Nay?”

Naomi spoke, not taking her eyes off Torch, the barrel still aimed at his face.

“You think I learned nothin' from Mama, when she used to come out at night lookin' for you? I know where she kept it.”

“Put it away, you'll hurt someone.” Colleen stood, holding her stomach, a slick of blood on her lips.

“Not if he just lets us walk away.”

“Hell no!” Torch shook his head. “I paid her for it, now she's gotta deliver. She took my stuff. Tell her to put the gun down, Chocolate,” he said to Colleen.

“I'll pay,” Colleen said.

“No, you won't,” Naomi said. “Give him the stuff back.”

“I can't. It's . . . it's gone.”

Naomi glanced at her older sister just long enough for her to see the anger in her eyes.

“You usin' again, Colleen? Who am I kiddin'? Of course you are.” She tipped the gun on its side, still pointing the barrel toward Torch. She switched off the safety. “Now you can either let us go, or I can shoot you. Right there where you stand. You know they won't find the body for days, and then they'll just think another dealer did it. So what ya think? Say?”

He stood there for a moment as if contemplating his options, staring into Naomi's eyes. When she did not waver, he bent down and scooped up his clothes.

“This shit ain't over, bitch,” he said, stepping into his shoes and glaring at Colleen. “I'll burn my money out of your ass, if I have to.”

 

 

At eighteen years old, Naomi had already taken on the role of mother to her fifteen-year-old sister, Malaya. As well as to Colleen, who at twenty had been a prostituting drug addict even before their mother had died.

They had no father to speak of, so none of them did. No one else to count on, except each other. And most of the time, they couldn't count Colleen, so there was only the two of them.

Naomi had already gotten Malaya off to school and done the breakfast dishes before it was time to go to work at the phone company. She had gotten the job through a friend of her mother's and had worked there a little over six months. It paid most of the utilities; the others just got shut off.

On the way out the door, she ran into Lady Black. Everyone in the neighborhood called her that because she was more proper and pleasant than most in that part. And her easygoing way called for respect, despite the fact that she was still black, like the rest of them.

The old woman always told Malaya stories of how things had been in the neighborhood when she had been younger. Malaya loved the Lady, and Naomi imagined that the Lady felt the same for her sister. If she had to admit it, she would have said that the Lady scared her more than anything. It was her eyes.

“Well, there, how is the most important part of the Three Musketeers?” She always called Naomi that.

“Off to work. Someone has to pay the bills.” She smiled.

“Too bad it's you, huh?” The old lady's eyes had a way of saying much more than her mouth, and Naomi found herself turning away. Those eyes said too much.

Naomi shrugged.

“Where would the miss be right now, if she had her choice?” Lady Black asked.

“Oh boy.” Naomi closed her eyes, letting the thought take her where it would. She opened them, a sad look on her face. “Where else could I go? Colleen and Malaya need me.”

The old woman stared at her in surprise, as if she had never heard such nonsense in her life. “Why, anywhere you want, girl. Anywhere in the world.”

When she left the old woman, she saw the old man from upstairs. He wasn't really old like Lady Black. About thirty-five, she'd guessed. She had come to call him that because he had made it a habit to chase girls much younger than him. The younger the better. Naomi had even caught him flirting with Malaya. She hated him.

“I saw your sister, Chocolate, gettin' in some old man's car,” he said. “You think she was gonna do him?”

Pervert
, she thought. “Her name's Colleen.”

“Well, they call her Chocolate on the streets.”

“Not all of us hang out in the streets.” She didn't even bother smiling; he knew she despised him.

“Well.” He smiled, showing all of his toothless gums. “Some of us make it our job to
work
the streets.”

“My sister's not a whore!”

“Maybe you should tell
her
that.” He smiled at her one more time before he walked away.

God, I hate him.
He had no right talking about her sister that way. She knew that Colleen had problems, but she thought maybe if she could get her help, things could go back to the way they were before Mama died. Maybe things would be all right.

Mama had been less than forty when she was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Naomi remembered thinking how brave her mother had been when she'd sat all of them down and told them. They had cried, but Mama had said simply, “Don't cry for me, I'm going home.” She was dead two months later. Colleen was strung out by then, and Malaya was still in high school. And Naomi was working her ass off to keep them all together. She had to make Mama proud. She just had to.

On the bus ride to work, Naomi pondered just dropping everything and leaving. She, Malaya, and Colleen could just make a new start somewhere else. A fresh start. It would probably do them all good. But Colleen would never go; she considered this her home.

Naomi supposed the girl was right; it was home to all of them.

Mama had lived and died here. Perhaps they all would as well.

 

 

Time went by slowly in the projects. Most of the time, it seemed to stop completely.

No money.

No job.

No hope for the future; no reason for time.

Naomi worked her job at the phone company. Colleen—aka Chocolate—worked her corner. But most importantly, her job was to find her next fix. Malaya had just turned sixteen and had a longing to go to college. Naomi actually thought she could make it on a scholarship with her 3.8 GPA.

She was proud. She wanted Malaya to have more than she had. She wanted her to become more than just a junky like Colleen. Or a phone rep, like her.

“You really think I can?” Malaya asked one night, sitting at the table finishing her homework.

“Of course you can,” Naomi said. “I've told you that.”

Malaya twirled around, hands held high in the air, almost lost in thought. “Maybe I'll be a doctor. Get an office on the South Side here. Help some of us without insurance and money. What ya think? I could, right?”

“Yeah.” Naomi smiled.

“But . . .” She drifted off as if she heard a voice in the back of her head telling her not to say any more.

“But what?”

“Colleen said that ain't nobody in this family never been to college and neither would I.”

“She said that?”

“Yeah.” The girl paused and Naomi saw the hurt in her eyes. “You know she ain't been home in two days?”

Naomi nodded. “I know.”

“You gonna go get her? Can I come too?”

“No. I'll do this alone.” Naomi allowed a single tear to fall down her sullen face.

“Mama used to cry, too,” Malaya whispered.

Naomi didn't hear.

 

 

She found Colleen in the park again. She wasn't surprised. The surprise was that she was alone.

“Let's go home, Co.”

“Did you bring your gun this time, Officer?” Colleen asked.

“I never know what I'm gonna find you with. Mama told me that. She told me to take care of you. Who is it nowadays? Anyone who pays, right? You'll fuck anyone who pays.”

“Right!” Colleen screamed. She wobbled forward, and fell to the ground.

Naomi could tell she was high. Crack. “So you can buy that shit. Why?”

“Because . . .” She stood and brushed an invisible stench from her knees, like a pro.

“Because what, Colleen?”

“It's Chocolate to you. To everyone! My name's Chocolate.”

“Let's go home now.” Naomi reached out to her sister.

Colleen slapped her hand away. “I am home. Don't you see?” She twirled in a circle, her arms outstretched. She fell again, stood up. “Home. This is Chocolate Park. My park. My home.”

Looking at her sister, Naomi began to cry. She knew that Colleen had been doing drugs for a long time. She even knew about the prostitution, despite her desire to deny it happened. But she had never seen Colleen like this.

Maybe, she realized, she had never allowed herself to see it. She loved her sister, damn it.

Colleen had taken it hard when she found out that their mother had cancer. She felt responsible, as if she hadn't been there for their mother when Mama had needed her the most. And of course she hadn't been, because of the drugs. Then when she died, Colleen had been stuck with all the responsibilities of two younger sisters. Motherhood.

But hell, so had Naomi. The difference was that Naomi was good at it.

“Do you want to join me?” Chocolate said. Naomi did not see her as Colleen any longer; her sister had died. “I can help you. You know, show you the ropes. Even help you find johns. What ya think?” She raised her hands high. “I'm my sister's keeper, right?”

Naomi wiped her eyes. “Malaya ran into Torch today. He said he wants his money or his stuff. He said he'd kill you to get it. He said he'd kill her, too. Do you care?”

Chocolate didn't answer.

The drugs wouldn't let her care.

 

 

The day Torch raped Malaya, she had been walking home from school and he'd grabbed her and pulled her into his car.