The Velvet Rope by Brenda L. Thomas

Author:Brenda L. Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2005-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

7

Another Chance

From somewhere in my unconsciousness I was abruptly awakened by Bruiser’s loud barking, but I had no idea where it was coming from. Finding myself cramped in a tight ball in Malik’s recliner, I surveyed the room from swollen eyes. When I put my feet down on the floor pain shot through me and I noticed that from my breasts down, I was covered with dried lavender candle wax. My God, what had Mr. Haney done to me? There were no bruises though my thighs were sore, as were my legs and arms, as if I’d been beaten. I wanted to shout out to Bruiser to shut up, but my lips were cracked and dry and my gums were sore.

I was so disoriented that I had no idea what time or day it was. I picked up the remote from the floor to turn off the loud sounds of the morning news. But I stopped when I saw Mr. Haney’s face and heard his voice detailing the arrests he’d made overnight. Was it possible I was hallucinating?

Before I could get to Bruiser, I went to the refrigerator, where there was only one bottle of spring water left. I drank that and then turned on the faucet and filled my hands with water repeatedly, trying to quench my thirst. I unlocked the back door to let in Bruiser, who trampled me to the floor. I lay there looking up at him while he licked at my face. Crawling, I made my way from the kitchen to the stairs, holding on to the railing as a guide to get to my room. I climbed into bed.

It had to have been hours later when I woke up, sweaty and dehydrated. I could see the streetlights shining through my curtains. I couldn’t hear any noise outside above the banging in my head. Try as I might, I couldn’t put together the pieces of Mr. Haney’s visit, and judging from my inability to recall all the details, I was sure he’d put something in my drink, probably Ecstasy. I thought about the irony of him giving me Ecstasy while as DA he was running a drug sting operation. Thinking expended way more energy than I had so I stopped. Instead I used what energy I had left to take a shower and scrape candle wax from my body. Afterward, I was too drained to do anything else but climb back under my covers.

Just as I was drifting back to sleep, I heard the phone ringing in the distance. It sounded like two phones, two different rings. I groped around in the darkened room for the cell phone and before I could say hello I heard my nephew’s crying voice.

“Auntie Tiff, Auntie Tiff,” my nephew Kareem screamed to me, “something’s wrong with Mommy.”

“Huh, Kareem, what are you talking about?” I asked, sitting up in bed, my voice hoarse.

He kept crying and didn’t answer me.

“Kareem, where’s your mother at?”

“She’s right there in the corner but she’s…Auntie Tiff, I’m scared.

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