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When the cab arrived, I walked through the lobby with Devin. But since I decided he wasn’t getting any, I stopped at the elevator. I saw no point in tempting myself by saying good night at the door. "I think we should say good night here."
I had to laugh a little to myself, because the look on his face was priceless. It went from "I’ma tear that ass up" to total shock. Then confusion set in, like he was trying to figure out what he’d done wrong, to spoiled child. "I told you about that look."
"That bad?"
"It’s worse this time."
"You just don’t know."
I rolled my eyes. "Believe me, I do."
But a promise is a promise; especially to yourself. The solution to Tyrone cheating on me with Blondie was not to become a cheater myself. I had more pride in myself than that. But I wasn’t stupid.
There was a man sitting by the elevator fooling with his laptop, and taking notes. Poor guy, working on his vacation, at this hour. "Excuse me, Devin."
I borrowed the man’s pen and wrote down my cell phone number. "Call me some time. We’ll have lunch, or whatever," I said, as the elevator door opened.
"Or whatever."
I got on the elevator. "Good night, Devin. I had a really good time hanging out with you."
* * *
Chapter Five
Qianna
Fresh outta Bedford Hills Correctional Facility for Women, and back in the city. The charge was aggravated assault. It wasn’t my first time in jail. My first bid was at juvenile when I was fifteen. I came home one night from having sex with my boyfriend, and heard my mama screaming. I went in the apartment and saw my mama’s drunk-ass man slappin’ her in the face, while he raped her in the living room.
I jumped on his back and started hittin’ him, you know, tryin’ to get his drunk-ass off her. He got up off my moms and came after me. That bitch just laid there and watched that nigga beat my ass, and then he raped me, too. My own mom didn’t do shit to help me.
After he was done with me, he left the house. My moms got up and came to me. I was cryin’ and shit. She helped me get up. "You all right, Qianna?"
"He raped me, Mama," I yelled, and pushed her off of me. "Why the fuck didn’t you help me?"
"What the fuck was I gon’ do?" she said, and took me in the bathroom to clean me up. "No! We gotta call the cops!"
"No!"
"But he raped me, Mama!"
"No!" she yelled back at me. "We ain’t callin’ no damn cops."
"Why not?" I yelled through my tears.
"He didn’t mean it. He just drunk, that’s all. You know how he get when he like that. He don’t mean us no harm."
I couldn’t believe the shit that bitch was talkin’. That drunk-ass nigga beat and raped my mama. Then he did the same shit to me. And this bitch didn’t wanna do shit about it.
I knew what I had to do.
The next night I waited until he was drunk again. Him and my moms was sittin’ in the livin’ room watchin’ TV, like that shit never happened. Her on the couch; him in the chair. I went in the kitchen and got the biggest knife I could find. They were too into whatever bullshit show they was watchin’ to pay me any mind. I came up behind him, grabbed his head, and slit his fuckin’ throat. While my moms screamed her fuckin’ ass off.
I had just killed a man, and you know what?
I liked it.
Got off on it.
