Addicted

As soon as I entered the garage, I was immediately jealous. There was my daddy, shooting the breeze with Jason and going over the diagrams for building the gocart they had halfway put together on the workbench attached to the back wall. They were so busy bonding, they didn’t even notice me come in at first.

“Mr. Wallace, I really appreciate you helping me out like this. My daddy’s always working, and I never thought I’d have it done in time for the Cub Scout Derby next week.” What an ass kisser!

My daddy patted Jason on the head like he was a Doberman pinscher, which he kind of resembled, I might add. “Not a problem, Jason. I love working with my hands. In fact, within the next couple of weeks I’m going to start on Zoe’s tree house. Maybe you could help me out and when it’s done, you can hang out in there with Zoe sometimes.”

“That sounds great!” I could see Jason’s profile, and from the side he looked completely toothless, since he had four teeth coming in at the same time.

“Not hardly,” I interjected, letting my presence be known. “Once my tree house is done, it’s for me and my friends. You’re not even my friend.”

“Zoe, what you got there?” My daddy attempted to change the subject before I had to beat Jason’s little ass again.

“Some lemonade and cookies, Daddy.” I walked over and sat the tray on the hood of my daddy’s silver Buick Century. “Momma told me to bring them out for you and Alf.”

“Alf? I got your Alf, girl!”

Jason really wanted me to open another can of whupass.“Yes, Alf as in orange alien.” I looked him right in his beady eyes. “Dang, boy, you look messed up with all those missing teeth.” He smirked at me and rolled his eyes, so I added, “What’s that on your face? A pimple or a golf ball?”

Before Jason could make a comeback effort, my daddy jumped all up in the mix, trying to protect the mongoose. “That’s enough, Zoe. Don’t be disrespectful to company!”

“Company? Daddy, that nucca’s always over here. Why do you have to take his side every time?”

My daddy laughed. I failed to see anything humorous. “You know, the way you two go at it reminds me of your mother and I when we were younger.”

I analyzed the statement, recalling the stories of how my parents met when they were children, grew up together, and eventually married. “Ewwwww, that’s sick, Daddy! Jason and I are nothing like you and Momma. I can’t stand his ass, I mean behind.”

My daddy curled his mouth up at my slip of the tongue. “Yeah, I know you meant behind.” Jason grinned at me, glad to see me being chastised.

“What you looking at, fool?”

He glanced from my head to my feet and back up. “Nothing much. That’s for sure.”

My daddy laughed all over again. “Uh-huh, I can see it now. The two of you will probably end up married, just like your momma and I, with two or three kids and a house similar to this one.”

“Daddy, I don’t mean you no harm.” I just had to correct-him, because he was obviously hallucinating. “But before I marry that cross between a gorilla and a skunk, I will run away and become a nun.”

“Hahahahahahaha.” Jason chuckled like I had just said something hilarious, but I was dead serious. “Girl, you know you ain’t going to join no convention!”

“Convention?” I pointed my finger at him. “You’re so stupid. It’s convent, dummy!” With that, I turned around and ran into the house to inform my mother about Jason’s stupidity quotient. “Momma, guess what the stupid nucca just said!” That’s how I first met Jason Reynard! That’s how I first met my husband!

chapter

two

Three Years Later

Eighth Grade

By the time our eighth-grade-year came rolling around, milk was definitely doing a body good. Jason’s body, that is. In the three years since our first meeting, or confrontation, whichever you prefer to call it, the hostility between us had continued. The only differences were physical developments. I’d changed drastically from the tall, lanky, skinny girl who moved there and now had boobs and an onion ass. You know, the kind of ass that supposedly makes men cry when they see it? I may have grown another four or five inches in height but leveled off at five-foot-four. Jason, on the other hand, shot up like a tree. He was already six feet even and still growing.

We were both thirteen, and puberty was barreling in on us like a ton of bricks. I had a crush on this boy Mohammed, a Muslim. I used to be so mesmerized when he would recite Islamic principles to me. In my eyes, he was a real man who respected his women, even when they were only thirteen. He was older than I was, sixteen, and had a car. I just knew I was the bomb, and all my girlfriends were envious. My parents hated him though. They dreaded the thought of a boy taking advantage of their little baby girl. Little did my parents or friends know, it was nothing like that. In fact, Mohammed respected me too much; the few times I tried to French-kiss him, he gave me a peck on my lips and sent me on my way.

Jason had himself a little hoochie mama. I’ll never forget the anorexic beanpole bitch. Her name was Chandler, and she came from an upper-class family. Just because she wore the finest clothes and got her hair done every

week at the beauty parlor, she thought she was the end-all and be-all. When I used to talk trash about her to Brina, who was my best friend by then, she would say, “Oh, girl, you just jealous! You want Jason for yourself! Just admit it, walk across the street and get that boy, because you are getting on my last nerve!”

My response was always the same. “Heck, no!”

It was a Friday afternoon in October when I realized Brina had missed her calling as a child psychic. It was a beautiful day for that time of year. I was out in front of my house jumping rope with Brina, who caught the bus home with me to spend the night, and some of the other girls from the neighborhood. I had just jumped in between the ropes, doing the double-Dutch, when I tripped and fell on my knees. It wasn’t lack of rope-jumping skills that made me take a tumble. It was Jason’s fine ass mowing the lawn.