Part V

"I was gettin some head...gettin, gettin some head."

I think these chicks have their alarm clocks programmed to play songs like this everytime I come over. As always I struggle to remember where I am and how I got here. Six So-Co and Lime's will do that any functioning alcoholic. I look around the room for clues to who the hell I've spent the night with. A pair of tan pumps at the foot of the bed tell me nothing. Except that she must have a little porn star in her. But honestly who doesn't, because my socks are still on. A crumpled up pink top and a tan skirt on the side of thed bed give me a clue. The skirt is a size 2. That narrows down the search. Then I get a great idea and look next to me. And there she is...some Asian chick. I ask myself, "Self, where have you recently met an Asian woman?" Then I remember. She's the secretary from Kiara's school. After getting my Sherlock Holmes on, I put my clothes on and get ready to head home and face the music. I'm looking under the bed for my cufflinks when I hear sheets ruffle.
"Leaving so soon?"
Her Southern accent still throws me off.
"Uh yeah. I gotta pick up my daughter from the babysitter's house. She hates when I leave her there longer than overnight."
I can't believe I'm telling her the truth. Either I'm slipping or I'm still drunk.
"I understand. Well it was fun. Maybe Kiara will get in trouble again soon. That way you'll have to pick her up from school early."
At least she knows this ain't no permanent thing. There should be more women like her.
"Riiiiight. Well I gotta go."
I snatch my things from her nightstand and walk out.
I get outside and there's another reminder of my drunken, one-night extravaganza.
I can't remember where the hell I parked.
I pull out my keys and start pressing the panic button. Hopefull the alarm will be loud enough so I can follow the sound.
I walk up the street one way...nothing.
I turn around and walk the other way...nothing.
"Ain't this a bitch," I think to myself.
I pull out my phone and get ready to call anyone when I hear that accent again.
"We walked here from the bar remember? Your car is still there."
I look up, give her the international sign for "Ok" and head back down the street.
"I'm too fly to be walking to my car," I think to myself as I hoof it the five blocks to Keegan's Bar And Grill.
Five blocks later I make it to the bar and surprisingly my car is still there with all the tires.
I hop in, start it up and turn on the radio.
"Freakin niggas every way like MJ/I can't believe, today was a good day"
Let's hope so Cube.
I head to the east side of Oakland to pick up Kiara.
She's gonna be pissed. It's already past noon and she's still there.
I'm gonna need a good explanation for this one.
In my head I'm going through all the excuses I've already given her.
The art show in San Francisco was really Melissa in her apartment...the convention in Vegas was Quana at the crib...the weekend meeting in New York turned out to be a "group" thing with those Oakland Raider cheerleaders in L.A.
I got it.
I'll tell her I was in Bakersfield for a convention.
With my alibi in tact I pull into the baby sitter's apartment complex.
I walk past three bums reeking of struggle as I head up to apartment 5713 C.
I give my usual three knocks and two doorbell rings and put on my "I'm sorry" face.
The door gently opens.
I'm surprised to see Kiara standing there fully dressed with her over night bag in tow.
"Hey Stinka Bear!"
I reach down and give her a hug.
I don't get hugged back.
"You're mad I left you here so long aren't you?"
Kiara nods her head slowly.
"You said you'd be back the same night, Daddy."
"I know Stink, but Bakersfield is a long drive from here. You know?"
I see her face scrunch up. That means she's about to ask a question.
"What was all the way out there?"
I get ready to answer when I see the sitter stumble out of her room. The house shoes scraping the floor give her away.
"Kiara who you talking to? I knew you was special, but talking to invisible people special. Maybe I can get you on Maury and that way your sorry ass father of yours can use buy you some stuff with some clean money instead of that dirty money he gets doing..."
She stops talking when she finally walks out and sees me standing in her dingy doorway.
"Oh hey Donovan. I didn't hear you come in. Have a seat and I'll make you a cup of coffee."
She smiles and exposes what's left of her teeth.
I'm glad I grew up a Crest kid.
"Thanks but no thanks Mable. I'm taking Kiara back home. I've got a whole day planned for us."
While Mable shuffles towards the kitchen, Kiara looks up at me with excitement and a little bit of confusion.
"You do? What are we doing Daddy."
"Well for starters we're going to Sea World in San Diego so you can see the new baby whales. Then we're gonna come back home. Get all grown and sexy and have a nice dinner. Sound like fun?"
"Sure Daddy. There's only one problem."
Now I get the confused look on my face.
"What's that Stink?"
She leans in real close and says ever so sincerely, "I'm all ready grown and sexy Daddy."
We bust out laughing.
Like I said six going on 60.
"Stinka you're a trip. Go ahead and get in the car. Me and Ms. Mable gotta have a talk."
"Ok Daddy. But don't talk too long. You know the whale shows always end early."
Kiara walks out of the door way and heads down the stairs. She walks past the drunk bums and tell them good morning.
They stay in their unconscious state and fail to mumble anything back.
Once I see that Kiara gets to the car safe I walk in and put my game face on.
I reach in my pocket and pull out a wad of money.
All Franklin's.
I thrown the money down on "Mable's" coffee table.
"That's everything I've made this week. Now give me my cut so I can take out my daughter."
The toothless hag lets out an ugly cackle.
"YOUR daughter? Don't you mean OUR daughter? Don't tell me you've forgotten. Cause I know I haven't. I don't forget anything."
My head hangs in shame.
Memories begin to flood my mind before my words stop them.
"Of course I remember Charlene. Everytime we talk you never let me forget. I know who I killed that night. I know you saw. I know you threatened to go to the cops when you knew I was thisclosetograduating. I know the deal we made. You think I'm proud of prostituting myself at your whim just so you won't rat me out. That shit eats at me every time I sex. Everytime I cross a name off that list I remember my sin."
During my speech Charlene has removed her false teeth, wig and contact lenses. And for a brief second she looks like the 19-year-old girl I fell in love with years ago.
"Don't go giveing me those puppy dog eyes. That's how Kiara got here. Now here. This is this week's list of clients. You keep it up, literally, and we won't have any trouble. Who knows, if you keep this up for a few more months I might even forget you're a cold-blooded killer."
She starts cackling again as she starts to light her Newport.
She tosses about 10 $100 dollar bills at me.
She blows smoke in my face and smiles sweetly.
I just walk out defeated.
I stand in the stairwell and start to cry. Not an emotional, I lost my momma cry.
It's an angry cry.
I finish emptying my tear ducts and head to my car.
The bums mumble something about change.
I throw them each a $100 bill.
"Just cause I'm feeling shitty doesn't mean someone else should," I say to myself as I get to my car.
Kiara looks at me and smiles.
I give her a smile back.
Sure it's fake, but I figure I've been lying to her this long I might as well keep going.

Part VI...still getting cooked up in the lab. Holla at me for questions, comments and concerns.

Recent Revelations

Date: April 21, 2006
Place: My APT in Hampton
Time: 3:37 p.m.
Song Playing: "Mama Knew Love"-Anthony Hamilton

First off don't let the title disturb you. I haven't discovered anything new and/or life-changing. Well maybe I have. Recently (as in earlier this morning), I found out that people (or should I say a person) enjoyed reading my blog. This isn't the first time I've heard someone say they enjoy taking a peek into my small world of the corner. But it is the first time it is documented. So with that said, I gotta shout out my homie in BloggerLand M-Dubb. And for the umpteenth time...I'M STILL WORKING ON THIS STORY!!! I know some of ya'll (namely Buford and Grown Woman) have been asking about it. And truth be told, I've been slacking. But I had to go into some past chapters to see what I wrote so that I can make it all connect. I don't want to start out naming my main character Dr. (Insert Name Here), and then I change him into an art dealer. But I'm making a promise (and people who know me know that this is a rare feat worthy of documentation). I WILL HAVE A NEW INSTALLMENT ON HERE BY SATURDAY EVENING. Damn...did I just say that? Guess I better get cracking huh? And for some folks out there stumbling onto this for the first time I invite you to go back a few posts. Catch up with the story and let me know what you think. I'm always open to criticism. Aight...it's Friday...I got a job...and I ain't got shit to do. I'ma find me a bar and get my Happy Hour on!

An Excerpt From My "Journal"

Time: 4:03 p.m.
Place: My APT in Hampton, VA
Song Playing: "Can't Stop" by Ne-Yo (it ain't on the album...I got those exclusive joints!!)

First off let me pat myself on the back for using the word "excerpt" correctly...pat, pat, pat. Aight now that that's done let me explain the title of this post. For my birthday Grown Woman got me a journal. She wanted me to use it to continue writing my little story (which I will get back to, I promise). But I've sort of adopted it as my "journal". I hesitate to use that word cause it just sounds weird. I can't call it a "diary" just because I'm a grown ass man. And a grown ass man doesn't have a diary. But I'm getting away from the original purpose of this post. This is actually the first thing I wrote in my "journal". I was in my car when I had this random but real thought. It's more of a hypothesis. I think a person's car reflects who they are as a person. Take me for example (which makes sense because I immediately thought of my life when I had this thought). On the exterior I appear to be a calm, cool, and collected individual. But on the inside, there's all this...stuff that is jumbled together. Now how does this relate to my car? The color of my car is blue. Blue is typically a calming and soothing color. A color that eases your mind. Much like myself. On the inside of my car, there are bills from last week all up in there. Candy wrappers. My leather jacket. A water bottle. A soda bottle and a pair of Timbs. It's like I'm a functioning slob. But that's going into a differnt subject for another day. But what do you think about my analogy? Take a lookat your car and then look at yourself. You might be surprised at the similarities. Again this is just a hypothesis and not a fact. But it's still an interesting one.