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“Are you sure?” I question, raising a brow. “I mean, after all she’s been through…you know, with being kidnapped and…” I pause for effect, shaking my head. “…beaten. I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for her.”
“Girl, none of us can. It was horrible. She wouldn’t let any of us come up to see her in the hospital. Not even Nana. It tore her up.”
“Ohmygod,” Persia says, clutching her chest. “I’m sure it did. But, I’m surprised she didn’t want you there. Y’all have always been very close.”
Felecia looks off. “Yeah, I didn’t understand that. But, I respected her wishes. Jasper was by her side every day and kept me informed of her progress.” She guzzles back the rest of her drink, then reaches over for the pitcher. This time she pours her own troubles. Paris wants to know if Pasha had been raped. I ask where they found her since all we knew was that she was found in a park badly beaten. Persia asks if she’s been in any counseling for it.
Felecia shakes her head. “No, she doesn’t think she needs it. She won’t even talk about it. It’s crazy. It’s like it never happened. If you bring up, she immediately shuts down.”
“I’m sure she does,” Paris says sympathetically. “It was a traumatic experience.”
Felecia takes a sip from her drink. “Yeah, it really was. All she worried about was losing her baby. Her only focus was putting the whole ordeal behind her and carrying her baby to full-term.”
“Where was she found again?” I ask. She tells me Branch Brook Park in Newark. “Did they ever find the person behind it?”
She slowly shakes her head, then takes another sip of her drink. “She refused to cooperate.”
I raise my brow, cutting an eye over at Porsha and Paris. “That’s strange, don’t you think? Why wouldn’t she want the police to get whoever was responsible for kidnapping and beating her off the streets?”
Felecia shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. It’s like she’s protecting whoever did it.”
“Maybe she does know,” I say with raised brow.
“Mmmm,” Porsha says, pursing her lips. “Or she’s trying to keep something from coming out.”
Felecia glances around the room at the three of us. “I don’t even wanna go there. She swore she didn’t know who the men were.”
“Men?” Paris asks, cupping her hand over her mouth. “Ohmygod, all this time I thought it was only one man who did that to her.”
“No, it was like six or seven of ’em involved.”
Porsha, Paris and I gasp, clutching our chests. “Ohmygod,” we say in unison.
“I can see one or two niggas kidnapping someone,” Porsha states, disgusted. “But you talking six niggas, and she got beat…” She pauses, letting her words float around the room. “I’m sorry, but the more I’m hearing, the more I’m convinced that wasn’t some random act. No, it was personal.”
Felecia tosses back her drink. “You said it. Not me. But, between us…” she looks around the room like she’s expecting someone else to walk into the room. She leans in. “There was a lot of crazy shit happening a few months prior to her being kidnapped.”
Porsha cuts her eye at me. I tilt my head. “What kind of crazy shit?” Paris asks. Felecia sits back in her seat and pours the dirt. Tells us about some strange man constantly calling the shop asking for her, and when she’d hang up on him, he’d keep calling back. She tells us about someone throwing a brick through the back window of her car. Then, a week or so later, someone smashing out the shop’s window with a steel pipe.
“My God,” I say, shaking my head. “The plot thickens.”
“Girl, let me get another drink,” Felecia says, reaching for the pitcher. I’ve lost count of how many this is for her, at least eight or nine. But she’s well on her way to finishing this pitcher practically all by herself. “You haven’t heard the half of it.”
“You mean to tell me there’s more?”
“Chile, y’all did not hear any of this from me. Pasha would have my head for sure. But, a few months before she got kidnapped, some young nigga came up in the shop and straight disrespected her in front of all of us.”
Ohmygod, Felecia’s splashing some juicy shit up on us tonight. I knew Pasha’s ass was a hot-ass mess!
She goes into full detail about a guy walking into the shop, requesting a deep throat special from Pasha. Telling her he had heard had she sucked a good dick. That she had sucked one of his boys in his car while he was driving down Route 22. Then she tells us about her being attacked by some masked man who jumped out of the bushes when she was putting her key in her front door. And how she didn’t report it, or want Jasper to know about it. Paris, Porsha and I are sitting here with our jaws dropped as she tells us this. By the time Felecia finishes dishing the dirt, it’s almost one o’clock in the damn morning and my head is literally spinning.
Porsha
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Girl, you know I still can’t get over what Felecia told us the other night.” I’m on the phone talking to Paris, sitting behind my desk with my feet propped up. We’ve been on the phone for almost forty minutes recapping that whole evening. Since Felecia’s visit, we hadn’t really talked about it until now.
“Me either. I’m just glad Pasha’s okay.”
