“Please don’t shoot, lady,” I heard one of them cower.
As if being awakened from the dead, Life moved and sat up
rubbing his head the way people do when they are trying to get
over a hangover. I watched as he slowly rose and walked over to
me. There was a cut above his eye and his mouth was bleeding. I
swear to God I wanted to hug that man, that thug. There was no
doubt in my mind he would give his life for me.
“Give me the gun!” he said with a tone in his voice that let me
know he was in control.
At that moment, I just fell apart, a fragile husk of myself. I fell
into his arms. He whispered in my hair for me to go sit in the car.
I walked to the car with legs that felt like rubber with weights
attached to them. Once inside the car, I looked at my watch–1:48
a.m.
Life now held a flashlight and rope he had taken off the men.
At gunpoint he made them all strip naked and walked them into
the woods. Fear danced with death’s flirtation as I sat in the car
praying to a god that not even I was sure of.
It seemed like Life had been gone for an eternity when I heard
the shots ring out, and then Life came running from out of the
woods. I noticed that he was limping badly.
“What did you do?” I asked as soon as he entered the car. He
ignored me.
“See if the car will start,” he said out of breath. His body omit-
ted an odor. I wondered if it was death. Another car passed and I
couldn’t help thinking I just wanted to get away, safe.
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I turned the key, praying with all my heart, that Betty would
start. Please baby, please start for mama. The motor turned over. I
knew the sound like I knew my own voice. She sputtered and then
died with a cough. Life watched me like I was a judge about to
decide his fate. I turned the key again and she started like a brand
new motor. “Thank you Jesus,” I mumbled. Life hopped out of
the car, picked up the hunting knife off the ground, sliced all the
tires on the truck and ran back to the car.
“Let’s go,” he said with emotion in his voice. I eased the car
onto the road. I did not realize I was that cold until I felt the heat
on my feet. Life was jabbering away with the adrenaline rush of a
man who had just received a last minute reprieve from the electric
chair.
“Goddamn, Hope, that was some gangsta shit you pulled back
there. I just wished you hadn’t taken so damn long. Them crackas
was tryin to kick the bone outta my ass-.”
We passed a sign that read “Kissimmee, Florida.” 176 miles to
Tallahassee. My mind was all over the place.
“Life what did you do to those men? I heard shots.” My voice
cracked, like too much pressure on a dam.
“Girl, do you know what them crackas was gettin ready to do
to us … to you?” His eyes finished the statement when he looked
at me saying that they were going to rape me. He fired up a ciga-
rette as I drove through the night wishing the car would go faster.
I turned on Route 19, a thoroughfare that goes through the hub
of the city. The town looked rural and antebellum; still I found it
comforting to be back within city limits. The streets were lined
with stores and small businesses, hotels and restaurants and the
speed limit was 35.
I passed through the toll booth and paid a dollar. On both
sides of the streets were police cars. “Smile,” Life told me. For the
benefit of the police, I spread my weary lips across my teeth and
displayed a smile as fake as the plastic fruit Grandma kept on her
dining room table. After what I had just experienced back there,
mentally and physically, I was exhausted. We drove in silence, and
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L i f e
then it happened, the car slowed, kicked and sputtered. The
motor died. I coasted into a parking place on the side of the road.
Once we stopped, the reality of my grim situation pushed me over
the edge and I completely lost it!
“Nooooo! Nooooo! Noooo!” I wailed, pounding my fists on
the steering wheel. The last twelve hours had been too much for
me to handle. It felt like I was having a nervous breakdown.
Slowly, I turned my head, and glared at Life. He was looking
at me with shock written all over his face, the way a person does
when they are trying to decide if you have lost your damn mind.
“You!” I screamed at him, pointing an accusing finger in his
face. “Ever since I laid eyes on you, everything that can go wrong
has.” I felt tears brimming on the rim of my eyes. “I want to go
home. I don’t want to be stranded with you, and God please tell
me, what did you do to those men back there?!” My voice plead-
ed. I was winded. The police cruiser that was at the toll booth,
passed.
“Smile,” Life said.
“Shiiit,” I hissed, showing my teeth for a different reason,
looking like an angry possum about to attack his ass.
“Listen Hope,” Life said. His voice was diplomatic, but I
could tell he was fighting for self-control. We were two people get-
ting on each other’s nerves.
“You should have never attempted to make a trip in this car.
The radiator leaks, the motor is bad and some mo shit.” The
cadence of his voice changed almost as if he were talking to a small
child.
“Hope we’re just about two hours outside of Tallahassee. We
can walk, sleep in the car, or we can get a few hours of rest at a
hotel while the car is getting fixed. I saw a Holiday Inn a few miles
back. I’ll call a tow truck and we can leave first thing in the morn-
ing.”
I slumped over the steering wheel placing my head over my
arms. I was exhausted, my head hurt and just the thought of a
long luxurious bath was tempting.
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“We’ll sleep in separate rooms,” he assured. His words a gam-
bit. I figured, what did I have to lose? It was 2:00 a.m. and I was
tired. Spending the night in my car just did not appeal to me. So
I agreed under those conditions.
About thirty minutes later a tow truck was being hooked up
to my car. I grabbed my meager luggage and the three one hun-
dred dollar bills in the ashtray. Ever since I was a little girl, there
had always been something about hotels that I found alluring.
They made me feel like something I have never enjoyed, a vaca-
tion. At the Holiday Inn we got separate rooms with an adjoining
door. I kept mine locked.
As soon as we got our rooms, he walked me to mine like a
complete gentleman, and then went to the bar to get something
to drink. I took a long, hot luxurious shower that felt so good I
did not want to come out of there. After ward, I put on my night-
ie and crashed underneath the covers, but I could not sleep. Life’s
face kept appearing on the screen of my mind.
OK, I can’t lie, curiosity was killing me. It also killed the cat,
or in my case, I should say kitty.
*****
32
Chapter Four
Chapter Four
“Fahrenheit of Lust”
– Hope –
Curiosity got the best of me and I made the second biggest mis-
take of my life. The first one was helping him and now this.
I tiptoed to the door, unlocked it and then tried his door. It
opened. A single dim light shined in the room. Life sat perched in
a chair in front of a large picture window with the blinds opened
wide. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. The gleaming swimming pool in
front of his room reflected a kaleidoscope of colors off of his body.
A cigarette dangled from his finger as gray smoke ringed his head.
On the table was a bag of ice, a fifth of Hennessy and a shot
glass half filled. For some reason I just watched that man as the
smoke curled out his mouth, the stolid face of a Black man
impelled by his thoughts. Lord knows he had a lot to think about.
Again I wondered if he killed those men. I also wondered was I
attracted to him, a thug.
He took a sip of his drink, pinky finger extended, then he
stared at something out the window. Whatever it was held his
attention. Moments passed and he had me looking too, and sud-
denly it dawned on me what he was looking at–Me!!
“Do you always creep into people’s rooms spyin’ on them
when you think they’re not watching?”
I was cold busted. The entire time, he was looking at me
through the reflection in the window. Slowly he turned toward me
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L i f e
and I could see the scar underneath his eye. Something was miss-
ing, something was wrong. This was the intimate part of the man
without his mask, hur t prevailed on his face and instantly I regret-
ted coming into his room. His eyes roamed my body for a fleeting
second and then looked away, as if he were dismissing me.
“Go and get some rest. We got a long day tomorrow with the
car and all.” His words were languid, he sounded tired. I just stood
there, lost for words, not able to describe what I was feeling for
this man. Maybe it was sympathy wrapped up in a big ole ball of
sorrow.
I was wearing practically nothing. My nightie was very trans-
parent. It was made of sexy satin and lace, cut short way above the
thigh. The cleavage was more than an eyeful since I wasn’t wear-
ing a bra. I was about as nude as a woman could get except for my
panties. Talk about a girl’s pride. “Can I have a drink?” I heard my
voice say, husky with a feminine timber of boldness.
“Hope, I got a lot on my mind,” he said running his hand over
his short cropped hair. “Get some rest, I’ll have breakfast waiting
for you when you wake in the morning.”
He just stared at something in the window. Something only he
could see. I recognized the hur t on that man’s face, the way only a
woman can. Barefooted, I padded across the shag carpeting and
fixed myself a drink. He turned and looked at me annoyingly.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said, girl?” His voice was slightly
slurred. I ignored him and bent down to retrieve a piece of ice that
I intentionally dropped to the floor. I flirted just to get his atten-
tion, to see his reaction. Ever since we met, he treated me like his
little sister. The man never paid the slightest bit of attention to
me. I wondered if there was such a thing as a gay thug. I sat down
right in front of him, crossed my legs ladylike and took a swig of
my drink. It burned in a nice way. Quiet engulfed us like a gentle
storm. I was lost for words.
What am I doing?
I continued to ask
myself.
“So what are you going to do when you get to Tallahassee?” I
asked.
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“I dunno … I dunno …” he shook his head somberly. “Maybe
find a job and save up some money to go to night school, get me
a lawyer.”
“Yeah, that would be a good idea. You could use a good
lawyer, because you damn sure know how to find trouble. You are
a jinxy-ass man.” With that, he erupted in hilarious laughter, full
and vibrant. The kind of hearty laughter that would stand out in
a room full of people, loud and jovial. It reminded me of Eddie
Murphy’s singsong cackle. Masculine and strong, I couldn’t help
but smile, too as tears rolled down his cheeks as he continued to
laugh. I poured myself another drink, a nightcap I told myself. I
already had a buzz. I took a sip and raised up to stand, I slightly
staggered but he did not notice. “I’m going to get some rest.
Check out time is 11 o’clock and it’s just about 4 o’clock.” He just
looked at me, his ebony eyes opaque slants, eyes that I couldn’t
read. He stood. His bronze body was sculpted like one of them
African statues of a warrior. His stomach was chiseled. His brawny
chest was big and hairy. He wore a large platinum chain.
The light from the swimming pool shimmered off our bodies.
I bit down on my bottom lip as he walked toward me. No one can
convince me that a man and a woman, in the solitude of the night,
confronted by their riveting intimacy, do not produce a kind of
fervid heat of unquenched passion. I felt my body tingling as if I
were on fire. I knew that if he touched me we would both burn in
a fahrenheit of passion. The Hennessy, mingled with his manly
scent, was like an aphrodisiac to my feminine loins.
“Hope I’m sorry for everything that I’ve put you through. I
can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, and to be truthful
with you, I’m really not a …not a …” he stammered and for some
reason I felt my body leaning toward him like how gravity pulls.
“I’m really not a jinx,” he said awkwardly. This time I burst
out in laughter spraying his face with spittle. For some reason, I
was feeling giddy. I wiped his face with an affectionate hand. He
kissed my fingers and then pecked me on the forehead like I was
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his little sister and gently pushed my shoulders.
“Get some sleep Shouty, I’ll wake you in the morning,” he
said, as he smiled displaying that dimple. Just as he was about to
turn away, I flung my arms around him, lassoing his neck, kissing
him fully. At first he did not respond. So I kissed him with every-
thing I had. I grinded my torso against his manhood and then I
felt him respond as his hands went under my nightie palming my
ass. The fire was ignited. The torrid passion of flames roared. His
lips found their way to my neck as his hands pulled my gown
down exposing my breasts. My nipples were erect. He squeezed
and sucked them greedily. I moaned. I could feel his stiff erection
running down my thigh. His lips and tongue trailed my flesh,
licking me like I was sweet molasses. I was moist and getting wet-
ter with every touch. Then something panged in me. This was not
right. Through the fog of alcohol and fervid lust, clarity began to
crystallize.
This is not right! What am I doing? What am I doing?
I
thought to myself, finally I shouted, “Stop!” I placed my hand on
his chest in an attempt to push him away, but he just kept pulling
on my panties, tugging.
“No, please!” I begged. It was as if I awakened something dor-
mant in this man. Something bestial. He was not listening to me.
He had my panties around my thighs and then pushed me against
the dresser, pinning me there. I felt my panties being torn. There
is a name for this and I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.
In one quick motion he slid out of his pants. His erection was
enormous and crooked, leaning to one side. It felt like he carried
me on it as I was being picked up and taken to the bed.
“No,” I whimpered, but even to me it sounded like “yes” and
I wasn’t putting up much of a fight. Even as he climbed in between
my legs placing on a condom, my futile resistance seemed to only
excite and arouse him more. “Noooo …” My words were silenced
with his kisses. He was in between my legs and his touch was as
gentle as a feather. I was still saying “no” as he entered me slowly.
The pain was excruciating. I never knew that hurt could feel so
good.
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L i f e
“Hope,” he called my name like I was his goddess. With that,
my legs spread and invited him into my kingdom–open sesame.
“Hope, I just want to make love to you.” His words a murmur
against my hot flesh as I moaned out loud in ecstasy. Slow and
passionate were his loving strokes. He has not entered me fully as
if to see if my body could withstand the length of his manhood.
His short strokes were driving me crazy.
“Hope, do you like this?” He eased deeper inside of me.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I lamented praising Jesus, cursing out God as I
road the ebb and flow of the torrent tide of his skillful lovemak-
ing. He thrust deeper, testing my womanhood. I felt him going
where no man had ever gone before, impaling what felt like my
chest cavity. His strokes, even tempered, like he was measuring
just how to love my body. As he reached his destination, I felt my