Powder Blu (16 page)

My flight to Jamaica was so relaxing. It had been forever since I could really sit back and not have anything to worry about or a hundred things to do. Black had already left when I called him to tell him I could go with him, so he sent me a ticket and told me he would see me when I got there. I couldn't wait to see him. It had been awhile since I'd seen him; he'd been so busy handling his business he didn't have time for anything else. When my flight landed at Sangster International Airport in Montego Bay I hurried to the baggage claim to retrieve my luggage. I was so anxious to see Black. As I stood waiting on Black to show up, some tall, skinny black guy dressed in a tuxedo walked up to me with a sign with my name on it.

“You have to be Blu 'cause Mr. Black said I would be pickin' up a beautiful young lady and I don't see anybody else as stunning as you,” the driver said.

“Yes, I'm Blu,” I said, bashfully.

“Follow me.” The driver grabbed my suitcase and escorted me out to his limo. He put my luggage in the trunk before walking back over to me.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said opening the door for me to get in. “There is a bottle of Hardy Perfection Fire back there for you to sip on until I get you to the villa.”

“A bottle of what?” I asked before getting in.

“Hardy Perfection Fire,” he repeated. “It's a six thousand dollar bottle of the oldest and best tasting cognac around. Most folks says it taste like chocolate, coffee, and oak. I think it has a more distinct taste myself. Me personally, I like it because it's smooth goin' down and I don't wake up with a hangover. I know a few rich cats that only buy it for the unique design of the crystal bottle which represents earth, light and air.”

“Oh, okay,” I said impressed as I climbed into the back of the limo. I picked the bottle up and poured me a shot to calm my nerves. After all this time I couldn't figure out why Black still made me nervous. I'd had two more shots by the time we pulled up at the villa. I was feeling this cognac.

I waited for the driver to come open the door. He took my luggage out of the trunk and handed it to some guy before opening up my door. He held out his hand for me to grab. I grabbed his hand and he helped me out. “Enjoy, beautiful lady,” the driver said tipping his hat before going back to the driver's side, getting back in, and pulling off.

“Welcome to Jamaica,” some guy standing outside the villa greeted me while handing me a tall, fruity drink with an umbrella sticking out of it.

“Thank you.” I smiled before taking a sip of my drink. “Ummmm.”

“Mr. Black awaits you,” another person said as I headed up the villa's walk.

I was greeted by four more men as I walked inside the villa. I couldn't believe how beautifully decorated it was. I was taken aback by the view of the ocean from the front door to the back of the villa. I'd only seen shit like this on
House Hunters,
never in real life. This seemed so surreal; Budz had never taken me to a place like this.

“How you doin', beautiful?” Black said, walking in from the balcony. The sight of him instantly got my sugar bowl sticky. He wore a tight-fitting, crisp white T-shirt, a pair of khaki shorts, and a fresh pair of tan and white Sperry Top-Sider shoes.

“Hey, Black.” I smiled widely as I walked over to him.

He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the lips. “There's brunch out on the balcony. You hungry?”

“I'm starvin',” I replied as I followed him out to the balcony. The view of the water from the balcony was more stunning than it was from the inside of the house. There was a mini buffet set up with every piece of fresh fruit you could think of: sausage, eggs, bacon, pancakes, crepes, waffles, you name it and it was on the bar.

“Hold up, I need to take this call,” Black said answering his ringing cell phone.

I fixed myself a plate of fresh fruit and a crepe as Black sat on the phone yelling at somebody. He was speaking in a different language so I didn't know what he was talking about. I knew by the tone in his voice and the mean expressions he was making it couldn't have been good.

“I'm sorry you had to witness that,” he apologized.

“It's okay,” I assured him before sticking a piece of pineapple into my mouth.

“Niggas be tryin'a get over and shit,” he fussed.

“I already know,” I agreed, knowing damn well I didn't even know what he was talking about.

“Anyways, what you wanna do while you here in Jamaica? We gon' make our time here all about you,” Black said smiling.

“I don't know. What is it to do?” I asked.

“It's okay. I'll plan our day for you and I guarantee you'll have the time of your life.”

“That's wassup.” I smiled.

“Okay, sexy, I got some business to handle. I will be back in a couple hours so be ready to have some fun,” Black said standing up from the table. “Take a shower, get dressed in somethin' comfortable, and I'ma take you out on the town.”

Black leaned down and gave me a kiss on the lips before walking into the house and out of the villa.

I sat back and took in some of the beautiful view before going into the villa to get dressed. As I was digging through my suitcase to find something to wear my cell phone began ringing. I picked it up off the bed and my heart began beating faster. I didn't want to answer it, but I knew if I didn't, Budz would just continue to call until I did. I slowed my breathing before answering.

“Hello?” I answered, looking around to make sure Black hadn't snuck back in.

“Wassup, baby?” he asked.

“Hey, baby,” I replied.

“What you doin'?”

“Nothin', 'bouta get in the shower, put on a pair of pajamas, and watch these movies I rented,” I lied, but not technically because I was about to get in the shower.

“What you rent?” he asked.

“I rented
The Hangover Part III, Goodfellas,
and
Boomerang.
”

“Awwww, man, I wish I was there so I can watch 'em wit' you,” Budz said.

“I wish you was too,” I lied again rolling my eyes.

“I was callin' to let you know that I won't be home until Monday instead of Sunday night. Mr. Davenport had to fly out to Jamaica on an emergency and won't be back until Sunday, we didn't get a chance to handle our business yet. As soon as I take care of my shit I will be home I promise.”

Nigga, I don't care if you don't ever come back,
I thought. Budz seldom used the word “we” anymore; it was always “me, me, me.” “Awww, baby,” I said, pretending to be upset.

“I know, Blu, but you know I gotta take care of this. You like livin' like Jay-Z and Beyoncé don't you?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Well, if you wanna continue to live like them, I gotta handle this business wit' Mr. Davenport, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, acting like I was hurt.

“I love you and enjoy your movies.”

“I love you too and I will,” I said before pushing the end button and dancing around the bedroom.

 

 

I was awakened by Black's lips on my cheek. I looked up at him and smiled.

“What's up, sunshine face?” he asked.

“Damn, I don't even remember fallin' asleep,” I said, sitting up yawning and stretching.

“Sorry it took me so long. Mr. Davenport had a lotta convincin' to do. He had to come correct if he wanted me to leave my current connect to come fuck wit' him,” Black said, taking a seat on the foot of the bed.

So Black is the emergency Mr. Davenport had to fly to Jamaica for. Small, small world.
“Did he convince you?” I asked.

“You damn right he did!” Black said excited as he stood up from the bed and began pacing the floor. “He made me an offer that I couldn't refuse. I'm about to take over Chicago and Cleveland.”

“That's wassup, Black. I'm happy for you.”

Black walked over, sat next to me, and stared me in my face. “I'm 'bouta make more money than you can ever imagine. And I need somebody to share it wit' so are you wit' me or what?” he asked.

“I'm wit' you,” I replied excited.

“Good. Don't make me regret this,” he looked at me with one of the scariest looks before standing up and walking out of the bedroom.

“I won't,” I said feeling uneasy. If I didn't know anything else, I wasn't 'sleep to Black. I knew that nigga meant business and just like Budz he would take me and anybody else out who got in the way of his money.

My trip to Jamaica was a much-needed one. Black did exactly what he said he was going to do: he made sure the mini vacation was all about me. He took me shopping at some of the local duty-free shops in Montego Freeport and bought me some of the cutest handmade purses, dresses, and a few jewelry pieces. We took long walks hand in hand on the beach, laughing and talking the entire time. He took me to some extravagant restaurants and had me tasting foods and drinks that I'd never even heard of. Black surprised me with some of the stuff he was into. He took me on Safari rides, jet skiing, ATV off-road adventures, and snorkeling. Who would have thought he enjoyed shit like this? But out of all the things we did together, making love on Doctor's Cave sandy white beach was the best. I can't lie; being in Jamaica with Black was the experience of a lifetime. I would have loved to have been able to share this experience with my momma, I thought, momentarily wishing we had that typa relationship. Hell, she was too ignorant to appreciate anything outside of the hood anyways; the moment vanished quickly.

As I was pulling into the carwash my cell phone began to ring. I looked down at the number and didn't recognize it. Budz was always giving my number out to people so I went ahead and answered it just in case it was important. “Hello?”

“Blu?” a somewhat familiar voice asked.

“Yeah, this Blu, who is this?” I asked.

“This is Mr. Davenport,” he replied.

“Mr. Davenport?” I asked, wondering why he would be calling me instead of Budz.

“Yes, Mr. Davenport,” he responded.

“Oh, okay how are you?” I asked, suspiciously.

“I'm good.”

“You must be lookin' for Budz. That fool don't neva keep his phone charged. When I get back to the house I will have him call you, okay?” I said.

“I don't wanna talk to Budz, Blu. I wanna talk to you.”

“Huh? About what?” I asked confused.

“Look, Blu, I need to talk to you. It's very important.”

“Mr. Davenport, I think you should talk to Budz. He would be so upset if I went behind his back to discuss business with you.”

“It's not about business, Blu. It's about you and me,” he stated.

“What about us?” I asked defensively, hoping this old cat wasn't trying to get on with me. He was handsome and all but this nigga was old enough to be my daddy.

“No, nothin' like that.” He laughed, catching on to my insinuation. “Look, I will be in Chicago on Thursday. I will call you when I get in town and get settled so I can tell you where to meet me at. This meeting needs to stay between me and you.”

“Okay,” I said, slowly.

“See you Thursday,” he said, hanging up the phone.

For the life of me I didn't know what Mr. Davenport wanted with me. If it wasn't about business then what was it about? I didn't know him and he definitely didn't know me. Matter of fact, I'd only met him that one time on the boat; other than that Budz had been the one meeting with him. Him wanting me to come alone and not tell Budz about this meeting didn't sit well with me.

I was a nervous wreck for the next three days. I could barely eat, sleep, or think straight. The thought of what Mr. Davenport wanted with me constantly bothered me. It bothered me even more that I couldn't tell anyone about this meeting. Shit, if this nigga decided to kill me, nobody would even know who did it. I couldn't call Black and run this meeting by him; he'd told me as I boarded the plane to come home from my Jamaica trip to not contact him again until I had taken care of Budz.

When Thursday finally rolled around, I watched my phone all day like a hawk, constantly checking it for missed calls. The later it got, I started thinking that maybe Mr. Davenport had changed his mind about meeting with me, which really had me curious about what he wanted.

I was sitting at the table around seven o'clock counting money when my cell phone began ringing. My heart beat quickly. I picked it up and looked at the caller ID. It was a number I didn't recognize so I answered it, hoping it was Mr. Davenport.

“Hello?” I answered anxiously.

“Hello, Blu, my dear. Sorry it's so late. I had some important business to handle so I had to take a later flight,” Mr. Davenport explained.

“It's okay,” I said, nervously.

“Can you come meet me at my condo?”

“Yes,” I said and waited for Mr. Davenport to give me his address. “Okay, gimme like half an hour and I'll be there.”

“See you then,” he said, before hanging up.

I finished counting my money before taking it upstairs to the attic to put it in the safe. I heard the front door close as I came down from the attic.

“Blu, where are you?” I heard Budz call out.

“I'm comin' down from the attic,” I yelled.

“What you doin' up there?” he asked, meeting me at the bottom of the attic stairs.

“I was puttin' some money in the safe. What else you think I was doin' up there?” I asked, smartly.

“You been gettin' real fly lately and I'm about sick of it,” Budz said, frowning.

“Oh, well,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, attempting to walk away from him. I'd been in my feelings serious since coming back from Jamaica. Budz had come home Monday just like he'd said and all I could think about when I looked at him was this nigga liking ass, literally.

“Oh, you think this shit a game, don't you?” he said, grabbing me by my arm.

“Get off me, nigga!” I yelled, snatching away from his grip.

“Bitch, I ain't gon' tell you no more that I run this,” he yelled before hauling off and smacking me across the face.

I could taste the blood from my busted lip. I ran into the bathroom to examine my face.

“See what you made me do to you?” Budz stood outside of the bathroom door and said.

I shot him a crazy look.

“Come here, and let me see,” he walked into the bathroom and said, grabbing me by my face. “Ain't nothin' wrong wit' you.”

“Budz, you busted my fuckin' lip!” I shouted.

“You'll be all right! You should learn not to run 'em so much,” he said before turning to walk away.

“Faggot-ass bitch,” I mumbled under my breath.

 

 

I walked into the living room and grabbed my keys off the coffee table as Budz sat flipping through channels. “Where you 'bouta go?” he looked at me and asked.

“I got some business to handle,” I replied as I headed to the door.

“Wit' who?” he asked.

“Dang,” I huffed.

“See, that's what just got ya ass smacked a minute ago,” he replied. “G'on and get ya ass outta here. I don't even care where you go.”

“Fine wit' me,” I said while opening the door and heading to my truck.

 

 

I pulled up in front of the address Mr. Davenport had given me and sat in my car for a few minutes, trying to pull myself together. I really wanted to know what he wanted with me, but at the same time I was afraid to find out what it was. I finally got out of the car, headed up the walkway, and knocked on the door.

“Comin',” Mr. Davenport said.

I waited impatiently for him to answer the door.

“Hello, Blu,” he said opening up the door. “I'm glad you could make it.”

“Thank you,” I replied, as I stepped in the condo and began looking around. “You have a nice place here.”

“Why thank you. It's nothin' fancy. Just one of the many houses that I own,” Mr. Davenport said looking around as well.

“Shit, it is fancy,” I replied while looking at all the expensive pieces he had sitting around.

“Come, follow me so we can have a seat,” he said leading me into the living room.

Mr. Davenport and I both had a seat on the couch. I pretended to be interested in how the condo was decorated as Mr. Davenport stared at me. I was really starting to feel uncomfortable.

“What's wrong wit' your lip?” he finally asked.

“It's a long story,” I said, embarrassed, gently touching my wound.

“Blu, a woman should never let a man put his hands on her,” he said, angrily.

“I know. I deserved it though,” I replied, sounding like a dumb-ass.

All Mr. Davenport could do was shake his head. I didn't know why he was so angry because it was none of his business what went on in my and Budz's relationship.

“Just be careful,” he looked at me and said.

“I will,” I assured him.

Mr. Davenport began staring at me again so I decided to spark up a conversation. “Do you have any kids, Mr. Davenport?” I asked, looking around on the walls not seeing any family portraits.

It took him a few minutes to answer. “Yep, I sure do. I have a daughter,” he replied with a smile.

“How old is she if you don't mind me askin'?”

“No, I don't mind at all. Actually, she's around your age.”

“Do she live wit' you?” I pried.

“Nope, she lives here in Chicago wit' her mother.” He smiled.

“Do you get to see her a lot?” I asked, nosily.

“Actually, I don't. Her mother took her away from me a long time ago and refused to let me see her,” Mr. Davenport said.

I was so embarrassed for bringing up such a touchy subject, but that's what I got for being so damn nosey. I kinda felt sorry for Mr. Davenport though because I could hear the hurt in his voice. “Wow, that's crazy 'cause my mom done my daddy the same way,” I said, shaking my head.

Mr. Davenport and I sat in an awkward silence.

“Look, I'm just gon' come out and ask. What do you need to talk to me about?” I finally said, wasting no more time. There was no need for me or him to keep beating around the bush.

“Talk about cuttin' to the chase. I bet you inherited that from your mother,” he said, laughing.

“Actually, I did,” I responded.

“What else did you inherit from your mother?” Mr. Davenport asked.

“Look, we not here to talk about my mother! Shit, for one you don't even know the bitch,” I said.

“Wow, I see you got her fly-ass mouth, too,” he said smiling.

“Do you know my mother from somewhere, Mr. Davenport?” I asked, skeptically.

Mr. Davenport studied my face for a brief moment. “Actually, I do know your mother,” he said.

“Where do you know her from?” I inquired.

“Blu, I'm your father,” Mr. Davenport said.

“Get the fuck outta here!” I snapped. “My momma said my daddy died when I was two years old.”

“Blu, please believe that I am your father and I'm not dead.”

I sat staring at Mr. Davenport waiting for him to tell me he was just playing. He didn't. “Well, why would she tell me that, then? Where you been all my life if what you tellin' me is true? Look, I don't have time for games, Mr. Davenport,” I said angrily, standing up from the couch.

Mr. Davenport stood up as well and grabbed me by the hands.

“Don't touch me!” I said, snatching away.

“I can prove that I am your father, Blu,” Mr. Davenport said.

“Well prove it!” I yelled.

“Your name is Blu Angel, your birthday is July twenty-fifth, you got a brother named Miguel, ummm, your mother name is Stacey,” he said, calling out facts.

“Okay, so you know my name, birthday, and my family. But that still doesn't prove anything. You coulda got that information from Budz when you was questionin' him about me,” I said, still not believing that this man was my father.

“You were born in New Orleans. Your mother packed you and your brother up one night while I was out wit' my dudes and I never saw or heard from y'all after that. I searched high and low for y'all but couldn't find y'all. I hired private investigators, but they couldn't find y'all either. Your mother did a good job of keepin' y'all hidden.”

“Okay, that's more shit you coulda got from Budz,” I said, still not convinced.

“Okay, well you got a birthmark of an upside-down heart on your lower back. Baby girl, I knew when I saw you on my yacht that night that you were my daughter. A father knows his blood. I could just sense it. I started asking Budz questions and putting things together. I was so happy that I'd finally found my baby girl, I could barely contain myself. I wanted to tell you that night, but it was way too much going on to do so, and I had to be sure. When Budz gave me your number as a backup I knew this day was coming and I would be contacting you. I wanted to tell you when the time was right, but there never can be a good time to tell anyone such stunning news.”

“Look, Mr. Davenport. I'm done playin' games with you. Now if you will excuse me, I'm leavin' ,” I said, heading toward the door.

“Blu,” he called out.

“What?” I turned around and asked.

“I'm sorry you had to find out like this, but I didn't know any other way,” he said, apologetically.

“No, I'm sorry that I even came over here.”

“Can you please answer me one more question before you go?” Mr. Davenport asked, desperately.

“What man?” I said impatiently just wanting to get out of his house.

“Do you still have Gi-Gi?” he asked and waited on me to answer.

All I could do was look at him, shake my head, and continue out the door.

I'll be damned. Mr. Davenport really had to be my father
, I thought as I headed out to my truck. There was no way he could have ever known anything about Gi-Gi if he wasn't. Budz didn't even know that. I still had her to this day in the back of my closet. It's crazy because I really didn't want to believe that Mr. Davenport was my biological father. But after him revealing facts about me and my life I knew that he was. I knew that night on the boat he'd felt so familiar to me but I hadn't known or understood why. Now I did.