Big Juicy Lips (25 page)

The sound of the crash was deafening; like an explosion. Pedestrians and motorists gaped in horror at the BMW X5, which was tightly wrapped around the bloody trunk of a tree. One man was trapped inside the carnage, wedged behind the wheel, his bloodied head and torso jutting outside the wind-shield. The image was surreal, like a grotesque work of art. The other man had shot out the passenger door. His mangled body was entangled with metal and tree bark. Both were obviously deader than dead.

Hands moved in synchronicity, reaching inside handbags, pants and shirt pockets, extricating cell phones to snap pictures and videotape the newsworthy tragedy.

“I’ll be right back, Mr. Johnnie. I lost my wallet, but my mom has the money to pay you.”

“Okay, take your time,” the older man replied good-naturedly. “Say hello to your mother for me.”

Misty bolted out of the car and rushed to her mother’s front door. She rang the bell, pressed it repeatedly, but her mother refused to open the door. “Mom!” she yelled, knocking on the door as hard as she could.

“Brick!” she screamed, using her foot to pound against the sturdy wood door. But her dainty sandal proved to be an ineffective weapon to kick down a door.

All the commotion prompted Mr. Johnnie out of the driver’s seat. The old man shuffled around his wreck of a car and leaned against his battered vehicle, arms folded as he watched with interest, wondering if Misty would get inside and get his money. Nervously, he mopped his sweaty brow, hoping he hadn’t wasted precious gas carting Misty around.

Patting her foot impatiently, she pulled out her cell phone and called her mother. No answer. Desperate, she began to gather small stones and tiny pebbles, aiming them at the upstairs windows, all the while alternating between yelling for her mother to open the door.

Misty was causing a commotion; making a spectacle outside her mother’s house. Before long, the neighbors began to open blinds, part curtains and soon began streaming outside. One particularly nosey neighbor came out carrying a folded lawn chair under her arm. She lit up a cigarette, popped open a can of Pepsi, plopped in her chair and turned toward the action.

Thomasina peeked through her blinds. She was appalled that Misty was out in front of her house, acting the fool, giving her nosey neighbors something to talk about for years to come.

Determined to put a stop to the spectacle, she stomped downstairs, Brick on her heels. “Don’t say nothing, Baron. Let me handle her little butt.”

Thomasina swung open the door. “You know better than to bring all this nonsense to my front door!” Thomasina was breathing hard and sweating.

“Why ain’t you open the door? Dang, Mom. I just came to pick up Brick.” She glanced at Brick, confused. “Where’s your stuff? I told my mom to tell you to pack.”

“He’s not going anywhere with you,” Thomasina bellowed, mopping sweat from her forehead.

“Stay outta my business,” Misty shouted.

Thomasina flung her shoulders, placed a hand on her hip, prepared to launch into a verbal tirade.

“Come on, Miss Thomasina, calm down. Don’t get your blood pressure worked up,” Brick said. The concern in his tone spoke of an alignment with Misty’s mother.

“Since when do you care about my mother’s blood pressure? Now, you trippin’. Nigga, get your shit so we can be up out of this dip! Damn, why you wasting time? Hurry the fuck up!”

Thomasina rushed toward Misty, balled fists raised in the air. “What did I tell you about using foul language?”

Brick grabbed Thomasina; his hands encircled her waist. Misty’s eyes widened at the intimate gesture. “Come on now. Ain’t gon’ be no fighting.” He rubbed Thomasina’s shoulder soothingly.

“You don’t understand, Baron…It’s only but so much I can take off of Misty. Cuss words in my presence is something she knows I don’t tolerate.”

“Baron! Why you calling Brick by his first name?”

Still attempting to calm Thomasina, Brick’s hand moved circularly in the middle of her back and worked to her hip area, rubbing and patting, obviously familiar with Thomasina’s body parts.

“Y’all fucking?” Misty screeched. She covered her mouth with both hands, eyes bulging in disbelief.

“Me and your mom…” Brick started.

“Are you fucking my mother?” She spoke through clenched teeth.

Brick met her horrified gaze. He looked her straight in the eye. “Yeah, we’re in a relationship. You said you and me were over.”

“I did not! I said I needed some space. Temporarily. Brick, how could do something like this to me?” Misty swung on Brick. He grabbed her wrist. “Mommy, you should be ashamed of your old ass self—trying to take what’s mine just because you can’t get a man.”

Thomasina got close in Misty’s face. “He told me everything…”

“Don’t go there, Ma,” Brick interjected.

“Oh, I’m going there! You’re the one who should be ashamed. Taking advantage of him; putting him out there; making him do unspeakable things.”

“She didn’t make me…”

“Baron!” Thomasina held up a silencing hand. Brick closed his mouth. “What you did to his mind—to his manhood—is cruel and malicious. But I plan to straighten all that out. Once me and him are married…”

“Married! I’m not letting Brick marry you,” Misty said with disdain.

“You don’t have no claims on me, Misty,” Brick said, standing by Thomasina’s side. Misty flinched. Brick had never stood up to her before. If she could get him away from her controlling mother, she’d be able to talk some sense into his head.

“Brick,” she said softly, tears pouring from her eyes. “She’s using you to get back at me. Don’t let her do this. She’s old and desperate; she’s trying to brainwash you.”

“Am I old and desperate?” Thomasina asked Brick, her hand on her hip, her tone and expression coy.

“No, Ma. You sexy. Sexy as shit.” He rubbed her behind, right in Misty’s face.

“Oh, I’m gagging!” Misty spat.

“Gag all you want to. Once I get Baron on my insurance plan, he’s going to be getting a whole lot of psychological treatment. He’s getting some cosmetic surgery, too—to get that scar fixed.”

“I love your mom. We didn’t plan it. It just happened,” Brick explained.

“Ain’t shit happen. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Misty insisted. “You don’t love her; you talking shit. You belong to me.”

“He doesn’t
belong
to you!” Thomasina piped in, her voice filled with disdain. “He’s not your personal plaything, he’s not a pet, or some object you bought from the store. If you can’t respect our relationship, then stay the hell away from here.”

Misty’s face crumpled. “Please, Brick. Don’t do this to me. Not when I need you the most.” She inched closer to Brick, her expression pleading, beseeching him to come to his senses. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to hurt you. But fuck all that…” Misty caught herself. She backed up, expecting her mother to try to smack her for cussing. “Come on, Brick. You know how we do. Forget her; it’s time to bounce.”

“It’s over between us, Misty. I’m serious. You made your decision to mess with Dane and I made mine. Like she told you…me and your mom…we’re getting married. There’s nothing you can do to change that,” Brick said adamantly.

Misty covered her ears, shutting out Brick’s blasphemous spiel. Unable to convince Brick to see things her way, Misty opened her mouth and released a bone-chilling scream. “I can’t stand this; you’re killing me, Brick! You can’t marry my mother. I don’t want you to fuck my mother. Do you hear me? Stop fucking her! Stop fucking my mother; stop fucking my mother!” Over and over, she shouted the decadent proclamation, rousing the neighbors’ curiosity, provoking them to band together and murmur excitedly as they moved en masse, stomping across her yard, trampling Thomasina’s flowerbed. Huddled close to the front door, the group of nosey neighbors enjoyed better sound quality and with the door cracked open, they were provided a bird’s-eye view of the scandalous goings on behind their neighbor’s closed door.

Thomasina slapped Misty and then gripped her up by the collar. “Have you lost your mind?”

“You can hit me all you want, just give me my man back. Please, Mommy, don’t take him from me. I need Brick.”

A chorus of shocked gasps sounded outside the house. Thomasina shut the front door. Furious, she grabbed Misty by the shoulders and tried to shake some sense into her. Misty screamed louder, infuriating her mother. “Shut the hell up, you rotten little bitch!” Thomasina snapped and knocked Misty into the wall. Misty slid down to the floor and cried like a little girl.

“That’s enough, Miss Thomasina. You gon’ end up killing her.” Brick pulled Thomasina away from her and used his hulking body to block her from launching another attack.

Mr. Johnnie hobbled up the pathway as quickly as his arthritic body could move, shuffling past the discontented neighbors, who, deprived of entertainment, now murmured threats to call the police to break up the disturbance. He made it to the front door and finding it unlocked, Mr. Johnnie limped on in.

“What’s going on, Thomasina? Sounds like somebody’s getting killed in here. Your neighbors standing outside, saying they ’bout to call the police over this disturbance.”

More mad than embarrassed, Thomasina looked down at Misty and blew out an angry breath. “Get her, Brick. Take her thieving ass outside. You can drop her ass out on the curb, for all I care.”

“Don’t touch me!” Misty kicked out her feet when Brick approached.

“You gotta respect your mother’s house, Misty. You gotta roll out.” He scooped her up, hoisted her up in his arms. Thrashing and twisting, kicking and cussing, Misty was carried out of her mother’s house and deposited inside Mr. Johnnie’s dilapidated car and locked inside.

“How much I owe you, Johnnie?” Thomasina asked, wiping sweat, chest heaving, as she peeked through the blinds. “Good,” she muttered to herself. Brick had Misty trapped inside the car and was standing guard, waiting for Johnnie to come out and take her home.

“Ten dollars total for the ride back and forth.”

“Okay.” Thomasina routed through her purse and handed him a ten. “You better hurry up. Drive off before she kicks out one of your windows. I’m already deep in debt. I don’t want to fork over another dollar on account of that spoiled girl.”

T
he room was quiet. The curtains were closed, the lights turned low. Though it was two-thirty in the afternoon, the hushed, tranquil atmosphere mimicked early morning calm. Brick lay curled next to Thomasina in her hospital bed. With an arm draped over her shoulders, he watched closely as she slept. After all she’d been through, she looked serene, so beautiful to his eyes. Brick smoothed her hair near her forehead, lovingly kissed her cheek.

Eyes closed, she felt his kiss and smiled, too weak to verbally acknowledge his loving presence. Pushing out a baby at forty-three years old wasn’t as easy as it had been at nineteen when Misty was born. Carrying Brick’s baby had damn near killed her.

The baby stirred and began to whimper. Brick sprang to his feet and lifted his son from the bassinet. Thomasina tried to prop herself up on her elbows, but was too weak. “Is he all right, Baron?” she asked softly.

Brick brought their son over, laid him next to his mother. “See, he’s fine. The little guy’s hungry.” Brick reached for a bottle, picked up Baron, Jr. and began feeding his son.

Thomasina beamed proudly. “He’s so handsome. He looks just like you.”

Brick blushed. Nestling the baby, he briefly set down the bottle and unconsciously touched his cheek, his fingers searching for the raised flesh that had disfigured his face. But instead of an ugly scar, his fingers caressed smooth skin.
Handsome!
Brick didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing that word associated with him.

The syncopated rhythm of heels clicking against tile broadcast Misty’s arrival before she stepped through the door. A lovely, wafting fragrance announced her presence before she spoke a word.

Just an hour earlier, Brick had been awakened by the shrill ring of the telephone in Thomasina’s hospital room. Brick lunged for the phone before it could disturb his sleeping family. Rendered speechless when he heard Misty’s voice on the other end asking to speak with her mother, Brick hesitantly awoke Thomasina and handed her the phone. Tears had welled up in her eyes as she listened to her prodigal daughter’s apologies and pleas for reconciliation. It had been very difficult for Brick to hide his distress when Thomasina invited Misty to the hospital to meet her little brother.

“Congratulations, Mommy. Congrats, Brick,” Misty said cheerily, holding out an elaborate bouquet of spring flowers. “This is Troy,” she said, introducing her young escort.

“Whassup, man?” Brick said.

Troy nodded, took a seat and silently fiddled with a cell phone.

“Here, Troy. Put these flowers over there.” She pointed at a table near the window. Troy jumped to it. Brick smiled to himself and shook his head. Misty would never change.

Brick moved off the bed, giving Misty room to kiss her mother. “I miss you, Mommy.”

“Oh, Misty, sweetie. I miss you, too.” Overwhelmed with emotion, Thomasina dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Let me hold my little brother,” she said to Brick. Brick placed the baby in Misty’s arms. She pulled back the receiving blanket. “Look at him! He’s so handsome.” She looked up at Brick and passed the child back to his father. “You spit him out, Brick,” Misty remarked, gazing at his improved, handsome image.

“Thanks,” Brick murmured, and gave an uneasy smile. He lowered his head, busying himself with rearranging the blanket wrapped around his son.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m ready to take over your payments to the IRS,” Misty told her mother.

“Oh, sweetie. It’s over and done with. I went to my congressman. His office handled it; they discovered that some man named Monroe something or another had committed that fraud. He’s deceased and so the IRS dropped the case.”

Troy’s head shot up at the mention of Monroe’s name. He and Misty locked eyes.

“Do you know him?” Thomasina asked, sensing tension in the room.

“Used to. He was a friend of Troy’s,” Misty said, the timbre in her voice, pained—mournful. “Hey, it doesn’t matter,” she said, suddenly snapping out of her somber state. “He’s taking a long dirt nap now. Guess he and his boy, Dane, got what they had coming,” she said in a chillingly cheerful tone.
Fuck with me, mufuckas!

Brick and Thomasina exchanged a glance.

“Misty, honey,” her mother stammered, “no one deserves to
die
over stealing money.”

Misty begged to differ. “An eye for an eye,” she stated coldly.

This was supposed to be a happy occasion. Thomasina refused to get into a moral discussion with her long-lost child. She said a quick prayer for her cold-hearted daughter, hoping Misty didn’t have a hand in causing that Monroe fellow or anyone else to meet an early demise.

Changing the subject, Misty looked Brick up and down. “Brick, I can’t get over your face—how handsome you look. You’re all buff. Your muscles look bigger than they were,” Misty complimented.

“Little bit of cosmetic surgery, ya know, and weightlifting.” He rubbed his face proudly.

“I took health pregnancy classes at the YMCA. Baron went with me; he worked out in the men’s weight room while I was in my exercise class,” Thomasina explained, puffed up with pride. “Once I get back on my feet, we’re going to work out together, so we can both stay in shape. But that’s enough about us…” Her eyes roved over her daughter’s expensive clothing and sparkling jewelry. “You look good, honey. You sure know how to land on your feet.” Thomasina gave a soft sigh. “I’m so glad we can all get along without any hard feelings.”

“Mom, you should know me by now. As far as I’m concerned, there’s not a problem in the world that money can’t cure.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, Misty, but I don’t want to debate it. I love you. You’re back and that’s all that matters.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” Misty cut an eye at Brick. “You too,
Big Daddy.
”

“Stop playing, girl,” Brick said, blushing, eyes downcast.

“We’re an odd family, that’s for sure,” Thomasina said with a chuckle.

Misty noticed that her mother was wearing the
Mom
pendant she’d given her over a year ago. “Mom, you need to be flossing something better than that old thing. You have two kids now, so I’m gonna get you a new pendant with two diamonds repping me and my little brother.”

Thomasina caressed the pendant that hung from her neck. “I’m happy with this one. Just having you here, sharing in this occasion, is the best present you could give me.”

“But, I wanna make up for all the pain I caused you.” She glanced at Brick. “You too, Brick—I’m really sorry for the way I treated you.” Her brown eyes held him in a lingering gaze.

“It’s all in the past,” he said uncomfortably, dropping his eyes. The lifestyle he’d led with Misty seemed far away and long ago. The reminder was unpleasant. He’d redefined himself, improved himself. His name was Baron Kennedy—husband, father, and wage earner. Brick was some other dude. Baron intended to keep Brick in the past where he belonged.

Giving birth had knocked the wind out of her sails. Thomasina closed her eyes, resting peacefully in a room filled with love. Brick put his sleeping son back in his bassinet and cuddled next to his wife.

Misty joined Brick on the bed. “I love you, Mommy,” she whispered, kissing her mother’s cheek, and stealthily patted Brick’s arm. Brick inched closer to his wife, wrapping his arm around her, as if holding on to a life preserver.

Thomasina gave a blissful sigh. Eyes closed, and resting peacefully, she didn’t take notice of Misty’s persistent gaze that set on her husband’s unscarred, handsome face and then leisurely roamed the length of his hard, muscular form.

Playing a game on his cell phone, Troy ignored the family reunion. He dared not tell Misty to speed it up, but he wished she’d hurry. How many times did she plan on telling her mom that she was sorry and that she loved her?
Dag, give it a rest
. Besides, from his vantage point, her mom looked sound asleep and Misty seemed to be whispering something to her mom’s frowned-up husband.
Whaddup wit dat?
Damn, he hated hospitals and all this family bullshit. Troy squirmed in his seat. He yawned and stretched out his long legs, throwing hints that he was ready to bounce!

Ever since Edison quit working for Misty, Troy was working around the clock. Misty had promised to take him shopping and treat him to dinner at Red Lobster. Sitting up in a hospital room was a fucked-up way to spend his rare day off. Boss lady should be spending this time recruiting, instead of wasting time on some lovey-dovey family shit.

Troy sighed. Man, he’d be glad when Misty hired some extra help.