“Switch-hitting! Not as long as they sell vibrators because those jimmies never fail.” I threw a pen at Chance. “It’s been a while but everything happens for a reason. If I’d really turned Basil out or Kahlil had really been about me instead of Oliver, I probably wouldn’t have talked to Yardley when he approa
ched me. God closes some doors so we’re forced to walk through other ones.”
Chance threw the same pen back at me. “Damn, now you’re getting spiritual about getting the dick.”
I picked up my entire pen cup and threatened to throw it at her. “You worry about your role-playing, panther ass.”
Life is just one damned thing after another.
—Elbert Hubbard
Twenty-two
Rayne
There are times in life when you wish you could crawl into a hole and drown everything out. Times when you wish you were someplace else, anyplace else, than where you currently are. That’s exactly how I felt when I left work an hour early to go home and get sexy for my Valentine’s date with Yardley. Not because I didn’t want to see him. I wanted to see him, every inch of him, in every sense of the word. However, I didn’t want, or plan, to see my mother sitting in the hallway in front of my apartment door when I arrived home.
“Momma, what are you doing here?” I asked the second I stepped off the elevator and spotted her.
“Baby!” she exclaimed, jumping up and exposing her black satin panties underneath the skimpy lime green dress she was wearing in the cold February weather. “Surprise!”
She spread out her arms to embrace me and a chill ran up my spine. I gave her a slight hug and then pushed her away from me.
“Momma, again, what are you doing here?”
She smirked and put her hands on her hips. “Check your attitude, missy. I came all this way to see my one and only kid and this is the treatment I get? The older you get, the meaner you get.”
I wanted to tell her that I’d inherited the mean streak from her but didn’t feel like getting into a fight. “I’m sorry for coming off like that,” I lied as I unlocked my door. “I had no idea you were coming; especially not today. After all, it’s Valentine’s Day and I assumed you’d have plans with…Um, what’s his name again?”
“Very cute, Rayne. You know good and damn well that I’m dating Truck.”
“Humph, oh yeah, Truck.” I held the door open while I placed my briefcase on the table in my foyer. “Come on in.”
Truck and my mother had this on-again, off-again thing going that was sickening at best. They’d be together for a few months and then she’d go out on a “whore binge” as she called it. They called him Truck because of his massive size. He had to be at least six-eight and weighed at least four hundred pounds, which made him about three of Momma. Personally, I couldn’t understand how she could have sex with him. The thought of him laying on top of her, pounding his dick into her, was mind-boggling, and her riding on top of him wasn’t a pretty picture either. Yet, they’d found something special in one another. Who was I to judge them? I was simply glad to be the hell away from them, in another state.
“So where’s Truck tonight, Momma?”
She smacked her lips at me. “In his skin.” She pointed to the hallway. “Aren’t you going to bring my bags in?”
I went back out in the hall and froze. I’d been so shocked to see her that I hadn’t even noticed the three suitcases sitting beside her. “Momma, what’s with all the luggage?” I asked as I struggled to bring the heaviest one in first.
“Don’t have a baby. I’m not staying long. A woman like me can never decide what to wear so I have to bring a lot of shit, so I can look good at all times. You know how I roll.”
“Whatever you say,” I replied as I carried the last one in and tossed it in the corner with the other two. “How long are you going to be here?”
“Oh, who knows? A week or two, or maybe three.”
“I see,” I said, beginning to feel heated. “Will Truck be able to live without you for that long?”
“Shit, he’s had to do it before.” She plopped down on my sofa. “Besides, I haven’t seen my baby in a while. I decided that I needed to come check on you.”
I sat down in the armchair and glared on her. “Check on me? Since when has that been a priority for you?”
“I call you all the time, baby.”
“Only when you want money,” I stated with disdain. “When you call, you rarely even ask me about my life. You talk about yours, and yours only, and then ask for money.”
You could’ve cut the tension in the room with a knife. For a few moments, we stared at each other. I could tell that she wanted to curse me out, but realized doing that would defeat her ultimate purpose. It had to be about finances; it always was.