Maximum Badonkadonk Ch. 10

She stood there with the placard hanging from her neck. The pic was part of a text sent to her clandestinely from a blocked number. Under it was written "TWO COUNTS OF PROSTITUTION, ONE COUNT OF THEFT" as I started to reel from sensory overload. Vicky stood there watching my face. I found there was more there scrolling down to find another message which read "DOES HE KNOW?" which made me facepalm and double over.

"WHAT IS THIS?!!"

"It's me, who I really am, and you can thank your lite-brite for this shit. Renee called after she sent this to my phone, told me she would tell you if I "talked shit" to her when she called. Said I had to be nice when she called so that's why I closed your door. That's why I locked it because we were talking. She kept fucking with me asking if you knew how dirty my panties were. She asked if I were giving you my money like a good whore. I swear one day I'm gonna beat the shit out of her and the cops are gonna shoot me to save that bitch. Psycho wanted me to end it with you because she found out I have warrants. So, that's what I did, sorry I hurt you."

"You're a hooker?"

"Kind of, needed the money but all that's a moot point now."

I sat hunched over in a thinker's pose running through my memories of the stunning redbone stopping on a particular one. Vicky sitting on that chair behind the boarded up Tubman Estates. Her volcanic anger made sense now as I thought of the threesome we had with her cousin Tressie Fisher.

The defensiveness and toxic overacting on her part made perfect sense in hindsight. My gaze settled on her feet slowly rising until I was staring at her face. Still stunningly beautiful, Vicky was nodding her head in silent affirmation of her truth. The mascara was running down her face much like it had the night she'd been arrested.

"What now?" I asked somberly starting to huff.

"Got a bench warrant; cops know where I live now. So, I'm taking a uh, vacation." Her fingers were interlocked in front of her body as I tried to make sense of the world.

"You sell your body for money?"

"I have, for other things too."

Something dark was engulfing me as I sat there watching Vicky. We were illuminated by the lights from a grey Tahoe which pulled up in the street in front of us. Simp Bentley was sitting behind the wheel looking anxious. Vicky was doing her best not to sob outloud. Her hands were shaking as she continuously wrung them starting to lose it. Some sort of force took hold from head to toe leaving me petrified. I was stone personified as Vicky Stone fidgeted waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Am I your simp too, Vicky?"

"No."

"What am I?"

"Somebody better than a prostitute and a thief; somebody who deserves better than a selfish bitch who didn't even graduate high school. A good man better than the disgusting pastor who paid for it. Now you can be with a good girl instead of me."

I was shook to the core watching her back away into the darkness walking to Bentley's car getting inside. It sat there for a moment as I exchanged glances with my rival knowing I'd got more than he ever would unless he was willing to pay for it. I was frozen unable to get up or even move with the images of Vicky sitting on that chair behind Tubman Estates. She was waiting for a john that day we met, went out to eat and fucked.

Demon knew what she was and it angered him because she was a liar. He'd whipped her with his belt against my fence that night.

Bentley pulled off into the night taking Vicky out of my life.

I sat alone in the darkness of the night on those front steps for two hours just looking out at the street. My heart shriveled up along with the inherent goodwill I extended towards most people when meeting them for the first time. The catalyst for this mindset inflamed my thoughts making me clench my fist until it felt like the circulation was cut off.

"Renee Kelly, you're gonna be sorry."

...TO BE CONTINUED.

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Notes:

Charity Gilbert appears courtesy of "Hope, Charity & Faith" (Completed Series).