Page 9 of Deacon

“I don’t know if you found a manual for disrespecting mothers in Georgia or on audacity boulevard, but I suggest you remember who the fuck you’re talking to, Ms. Janelle.”

“I’m not trying to be disrespectful, so I apologize if that’s how it’s coming off. All I’m saying is?—”

“Your tone, baby girl,” Dad says softly.

Exhaling while closing my eyes, I silently count to ten to calm myself enough to continue this conversation without coming off defensively.

“I haven’t joined a motorcycle club, Mom. Robyn did teach me how to ride a motorcycle, which is what I’m assuming H-Tolanda saw,” I say in a lighter tone than the contradictory energy coursing through my blood.

“Hm. Remember this while you’re riding through the city on that death trap. My niece isn’t here because she felt the need to live on the wild side with the wrong crowd of people. Whether you confirm it or not, I know the person who took her from our family is someone a part of the life her mother or I couldn’t convince her to leave alone. Do me a favor, and don’t fall for one of those heartless men Robyn runs around with.” With that, Mom turns and leaves the room as my heart drops to my feet, while my mouth opens and closes like a fish.

Same day, undetermined time later…

*swoosh, swoosh*

Feeling the weight of torment, I turned my phone off before my tires settled into my assigned parking spot. Climbing the steps to my front door took what little energy I had, causing me to invade the cabinet where my liquor resides only minutes after entering my apartment. My hands tightly grip the tumbler of light liquid while I replay Mom’s words. Unchecked tears flow heavily from my eyes, blurring my vision and increasing the cadence of my temple vein. Mom’s last two sentences are choking me and keeping me from moving or shifting my crouching position over the island in my kitchen. Since arriving home, I have lost count of how many refills I’ve added to my tumbler. The lights are off because I’m too weak to brighten the apartment. Chelsea’s smiling face from her last day breathing pushes Mom’s words to the side as I recall the words she spoke to me.

“You’re gonna be a dick magnet like your big cousin, and I love that for you. Just remember that no matter how many niggas chase you, make their asses prove themselves worthy of getting you. Sometimes these niggas take you for granted. You… my dear baby cousin, are gonna find a nigga who won’t have to break your heart before realizing he can’t live without you,” Chelsea says, smiling.

Taking in Chelsea’s words, I sit in silence as she curls my hair while trying to understand what she’s saying. At fourteen, I’m just discovering that boys aren’t as icky as Mom has been trying to convince me of since I became a preteen. The notion of love and dating seems foreign to me, but Chelsea’s smile lighting up the room makes me curious about the truth within her information.

“I do like a boy at school, but I don’t love him, and since he’s always being mean, I doubt that he loves or likes me,” I say after some time passes.

“Don’t worry. Men are much more complex than that little nigga. Nevertheless, none of them can resist or escape the magnetism only love can incite.”

“I wish you would have ran from the nigga whose loved caused you pain, cousin,” I whisper before taking a healthy drink from my tumbler.

Deacon’s handsome face flashes in my mind, causing me to shake my head to rid myself of his image. The last thing I need is to get wrapped up in a man whose eyes flash with a caution sign. Something sinister lurks behind the desire I see whenever I stare into Deacon’s eyes, which is unsettling for me. Chelsea isn’t here because she didn’t take heed to the unhidden darkness in the man’s eyes she chose to tether her heart to. I can’t fall victim to the type of man who will love me one minute and snatch my life the next.

All men aren’t that deceitful monster, though, Janelle. Are you really gonna sacrifice your chance at happiness? You’ve been single for years, only letting men in when your pussy begins sprouting webs.

My conscience begins chastising me, causing me to continue drinking for minutes on end as Deacon’s image once again flashes in front of my eyes. Gulping the liquid faster than a newborn fresh out of the womb, I begin coughing, and my eyes instantly water.

See, you wouldn’t be choking if you weren’t trying to drink that man out of your mind. The only thing running will do is cause you to fall harder when the right nigga catches you. Slow down and see if this one is worth your resistance.

“At what damn cost, though. I’m already running from the nigga who killed Chelsea. What will happen if Deacon has ahidden agenda?” My voice is low and hoarse from the intensity of the coughing from minutes ago.

Having a one-sided conversation makes me appreciate being alone at this moment. Someone else being privy to my continuous drinking and chatter without the presence of lights would indeed have me involuntarily receiving a mental evaluation.

Gunz:

Emergency meeting at the clubhouse at six thirty. All officers except Dimples and Squeak are required to be in attendance.

Shadow:

When did Squeak join the club? *scratching head*

Diesel:

The same day I gave her stubborn ass her club name. I don’t care how much she resists. She’s one of us.

Bulldog:

Yeah, I’m in complete agreement.

Dimples:

Wow, y’all are wild for forcing this woman into the club when all she said she’s comfortable doing is performing secretarial duties.

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