Retribution (13 page)

Of course Cassandra isn't the least bit concerned by Mona's reaction to her comment. “Miss Pasha, girl, do what you gotta do to get them pussy-niggas who tried to do you
got
. Throat that nigga, sugah-boo. And trust me. If you swallow his nut real good, you'll have that nigga in the palm of ya messy-ass hands. Oooh, I wanna watch, goddammit.” She hoists her bag up over her shoulder. “Look, I gotta get down to the club before I miss all the dingaling swingin'. I need my throat wet.” She slides me the folded paper in her hand. “Don't open this 'til you get in your car. Then call me.
Mona ain't ready for this shit we 'bout to do. But you know I love me a good goddamn fight.”

She swings open the office door, then glances over at Mona who is sitting stone still, almost in a trance. “So you might as well keep your trap shut ‘n' have several seats
alllllll
the way on the back of the bus 'cause you ain't ready for the front row, sweetness. And you definitely ain't built for this life. I can't stand me no pussy-ass bitches.”

The face hidden behind a mask isn't always a pretty one…

“Good morning, Nappy No More. Pasha speaking.”

“Miss Pasha, girl, you still ain't said shit 'bout me comin' through to get my hair did, goddammit. You saw me wearin' that ole nasty head wrap last night. After I left y'all asses last night, I got to the club just in time to see me thirty minutes of them ole oily dingdongs swingin', then I tore the dance floor up. Chunky Monkey did me right, goddammit. Oooh, yes, sugah-boo. I dropped it down so low I done sweated this ole nasty mop out.”

I shake my head, baffled by how over-the-top Cassandra is; yet, so unfazed by the fact that she has a dead body on her hands. I'm still in shock that she actually
killed
JT. And I'm even more stunned—and silently awed—at how she can keep it moving, doing her, acting like what she did is no big deal.

I shudder.

Somehow, although Cassandra didn't kill him on my behalf, I feel as if I owe her for doing what she did. That nigga
deserved
to die. And hearing the news of her killing JT—after he beat her and tried to rape her, for some reason, liberated me. It confirmed my pain. It authenticated my burning desire for vengeance. Now he's one less nigga I gotta do in. Still, a part of me feels like she stole
my moment, wishing I could have been there to see his demise. I would have loved to look in that nigga's eyes before he took his last breath. I would have loved to be the last face that nigga saw before she snatched his breath away. Oh well.

I fight a yawn back.
I'm exhausted.

After Booty left up out of here, Mona broke down again. And it scared me. I thought she was having a nervous breakdown the way she screamed and cried, saying how she felt so guilty for secretly wanting JT dead. How at first she was relieved that someone had finally did him in. She kept talking in riddles. Kept alluding to him fucking her life up. Then in the next breath, she was saying how much she loved him. How much her heart ached that he was gone. She had me confused. I literally held her in my arms until she was finally able to calm down. Then I asked her what family secret Booty was talking about. And why it had her looking as if she was about to pass out.

She covered her face in her hands, quietly sobbing. We sat in my office for almost ten minutes before she finally blurted out, “Jaheim molested me when I was eleven years old.”

My eyes widened in shock, disgust, and then filled with sadness for her.
That fucking savage!
I asked her if she had ever told anyone. She said no. Said she was afraid to.

“Oh, Mona, I'm so sorry to hear this. Was it only once?”

She shook her head. Told me no. That he had been going on for almost three years. At first it was only kissing and touching. Then feeling on her chest to sucking on her nipples, then rubbing between her legs. Then over time it went from licking her pussy to him wanting her to touch his dick, then kiss his dick, then suck on it. Then it went to him finger-fucking her. Then full-fledged fucking by the time she was twelve.

I gasped, feeling tears well up in my own eyes.

From what I remember about his delinquent ass through Jasper, he was sent to live with Mona and her family when he was like ten. Before that he had been living with his mother in Connecticut where they are all from. But he was constantly in and out of trouble, always fighting and hanging out with the wrong crowd all hours of the night. He had even been arrested a few times for breaking into cars with a group of older boys. JT was the one that no one's parents ever wanted their kids to play with because he was so thuggish and grown for his age.

“When did it finally stop?” I asked, clasping her hands into mine. She told me when she turned fourteen. Right after he got sent to juvie for a gun charge.

She started sobbing again. “I swore I'd never talk about this after he left. I wanted to forget it. I knew what he was doing was wrong. But after awhile, it felt good. I looked forward to him sneaking into my room and spending that time with him. I looked forward to him
fucking
me.” I cringed hearing her admitting that. “When he got arrested and sent away for that gun charge, a part of me was relieved. And I was angry. But, there was that other part of me who secretly missed him. I cried.”

And then I almost hit the floor when she told me freshman year in high school she was pregnant with his baby. And how she wanted to keep it. That by the time she finally told her parents, she was almost four months' pregnant.

I blink.

“Pasha, they demanded to know who the father was. I couldn't tell them it was JT's. So I lied. I told them I didn't know. I'd rather they thought I was out there being a fast-ass, than for them to know the truth. I couldn't tell them what he'd being doing to me. I felt like I had to protect him. To protect our secret.”

She started crying again. “Him getting locked was the best thing
that could have happened to me. Then when he got released and went back to Connecticut, I knew I'd be okay. By that time he was messing with Leticia. I didn't see him much after that, except maybe holidays or a family function. And when we did see one another, we pretty much avoided each other. Then I graduated and went off to college. And then I met Avery, who was the first man I felt like I could be with. I've only had sex with two men in my life. Avery. And JT.

“Pasha, I'm so ashamed to admit this. But I can't fucking believe I was jealous of Leticia. I hated her. I mean, I really felt like she had stolen JT from me.” She shook her head, wiping tears. “That's how fucked up in the head he had me.” She paused, shutting her eyes, then opening them. “I shouldn't even say this. But sometimes I don't even like having sex with my husband. Sometimes when he wants me to give him head, I can't. It's like after all these years, sometimes I still see JT's dick being shoved in my mouth.”

Ohmygod…no wonder she has issues with dick sucking,
I thought as I consoled her. I was tempted to tell her she should tell Avery about it, but decided against it. So I suggested she should get counseling. But how hypocritical was that? There I was telling her she should probably see someone to help her heal. Yet, I had refused to see someone when it was offered to me at the hospital. Then recommended once I was released.

No. I didn't need some shrink to try to get up in my head to help me figure out shit, then. And I damn sure don't need one now. I already know what I need to do. Moving on for me, healing for me, comes is bringing Jasper down and making them niggas pay for what they did to me. Retribution. That's all the counseling I need.

Between murder, attempted, molestation, then add my shit to
the mix, and the three of us were bitches who had been affected by JT's slimy ass in one way or another. Thinking about it makes me sick to my damn stomach.

Booty grunts, bringing me back to the conversation. “And I ain't even get me no dingaling last night. Them tired-ass niggas last night wasn't ready for none of this booty heat. But I do have me a new sponsor now.”

“I'm not surprised. I know you stay in recruit mode.”

“You got that right. Shit, I got kids to feed. And I likes to keep myself did up right, goddammit. So you know these niggas gotta do Booty right, sugah-boo. But anyway, this new nigga is a gorilla in the face, but he got one'a them big ole king-size anaconda dingalings; the kind that'll rip ya insides out if you ain't no skilled dick rider. Thank gawd. All I gotta do is let him sniff my panties ‘n' I got him peelin' off stacks. Ain't no tellin' what Gorilla Face gonna do once I put this heat up on them balls, Miss Pasha, girl. But that ain't neither here nor there. I need my hair done today. And you better not even try to do me, goddammit.”

I shake my head, flipping through the appointment book. My schedule is rather light today, which is a good thing since I want to get home a little earlier. I tell her if she can get here in the next ten minutes, I can fit her in.

“Sugah-boo,
boom!
I'm already outside. I'll be in a sec.”

I chuckle to myself. “Ohmygod. I can't with you. I'll see you when you get inside.” We hang up as my cell phone starts ringing. I pull it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen. It's Thick Seven. “Hello.”

“Hey, beautiful. My dick misses you.”

I smile. “Oh, is that so? Well, we'll have to try to do something about that.”

“Soon I hope,” he says all low and raspy. “You know I'm hooked, right?”

“If you say so.”

“Nah, I know so, baby. You already know what it is; don't front. You keep my dick hard. You the only woman who has ever made my balls tingle while gettin' head. I wake up with a hard-ass dick, thinking about you. Real shit, baby, you'll fuck around and have me giving you my whole paycheck.”

I laugh. “Well, lucky for you I don't need it.”

“Yeah, lucky me. I got kids to feed. Listen, though. I got a hard dick and I want some of that throat work.”

I grin. “Is that all you want?”

He lowers his voice. “What you think?”

I see Booty heading toward the door. She stops, her hand on the door, when some tall, young guy who looks to be in his early twenties says something to her. He's grinning and licking his lips as he talks to her. But judging by the way Booty is rolling her neck, the conversation must not have gone well. I hear her say, “Niggah-coon, boom! Eat the inside of my ass,” as she walks through the door.

“Oooh, these young niggas stay tryna get me turnt up early in the morning.” She's wearing another fly-ass pair of heels. This time chocolate brown peep-toes. Her designer jeans wrap around every curve of her body. She walks by the counter as I'm on the phone, tossing a hand up at me. I cut my eyes over at her backside, then shift them back to the appointment book.

“So when you think we're gonna be able to link up again?” Thick Seven wants to know. I tell him I'm not sure, that my next appointment's here and I'll call him later. “Aiight, bet. I gotta bounce anyway.” We disconnect.

“Come on, Cass, girl,” I say, slipping my phone back into my
pocket, heading back toward my workstation. “Let's see how much of a mess your hair is.”

She grunts, taking a seat in my chair. “Mmmph. Don't do me, Miss Pasha, girl. You know this wig's a damn mess.” She plants her Louis bag up in her lap, then unwraps her head wrap. “Now do me right, goddammit.”

The way she's carrying on, I expected to see her tracks tore up from the roots, but they're not. She's actually taken good care of them.

Rhodeshia laughs. “Girl, you're hilarious.”

Booty grunts. “And you're too goddam nosey. You still runnin' ya dick lappers with Miss FeFe?”

“Uh-unh, Cassandra. Don't have me toss you up out of here. Today's your first day back up in here. Don't start.”

She laughs, waving me on. “Miss Pasha, girl,
boom
. You know I'ma keep it classy. But, still…that
bit
—I mean, chick—
is
nosey. And I think she's messy. And you know I don't do messy.”

Rhodeshia shakes her head. “Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. But that's so not me.”

Booty shoots her a dirty look. “Mmmph. You talk to Miss FeFe?”

Rhodeshia gives her a confused look. “Who?”

“See, there you go playin' retarded. Miss Messy-Ass
Felecia
, that's who. Do you talk to her?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Why?”

Cassandra looks at me through the mirror, giving me one of those “see-I-told-you-that-bitch-is-messy” looks. I sigh, already knowing what I'm going to have to do if I ever catch her wrong. Fire her!

“Mmmph, well, tell that messy bitch the next time you talk to her that she got an ass-whoopin' on layaway waitin' on her.”

Rhodeshia frowns. “Um, no thank you, boo. I don't play messenger.”

“Nigga-coon,
boom!”
Cassandra snaps, shooting an imaginary gun at her. “The first chance you get, you're gonna be on the phone with her yappin' your cum box. Miss Pasha, girl, you know I don't do messy. But I know messy a mile away.”

I shake my head, leaning her head back into the sink. “I know you do, girl.” I cut my eye over at Rhodeshia, making a mental note to keep my eye on her.

“Miss Pasha, girl, watch that ho.” She lowers her voice. “Did you get a chance to look at that note I slid you last night?” I tell her I forgot all about it. She smacks her lips together. “Ain't gonna say much right now 'cause you know you got nosey-ass bitches lurkin' 'round here. But, anyway, I had me a good damn time down at The Crack House last night.”

“Ohmygod,” Kendra shrieks as she turns her client around in her chair facing the mirrors. She's finished her client's micro-braids and is now curling her ends. “I love the nights Chunky Monkey deejays, with his fine self.”