Chapter Fifteen: Hit... Man.
Houston, Texas
June 22nd
Onika Tanya Maraj
"Isn't that a crime?"
Finally able to sit in front of Ms. Nash again made me feel sane. I had dogged her plenty before seeing her, but she seemed to understand me in a way that I didn't think she could because well, she didn't know me. She was just a woman with a few degrees, before. But now, I looked at her like another mother figure. One that though I couldn't hug, I felt like I was wrapped in a metaphorical one whenever we spoke.
I kept ranting, "I just don't understand. It feels like the last ten years of my life have been a lie. And now he's talking about he wants his daughter back when he literally gave up his rights to her before she was even one. He couldn't even get to court to fight for fake custody that he can't get because he's technically dead. That's a crime, isn't it?"
"Well not technically, but things he had to do to get to that 'dead' point could potentially be illegal, yes."
"Like what?" I asked, leaning forward, fishing for all information possible.
She grinned, "Onika I will not be in the middle of this new case. I will not be a witness on that stand."
I sighed and sat back against the couch. I stared up at the ceiling, talking more to myself. "He gave her up before she was even a year old, said he knew that Beyoncé and I were what's good for her. We cried together. I even got in trouble with Beyoncé behind that meeting with him. I thought we had squashed everything. But obviously it's always been about what Beyoncé does that he can't. Some odd comparison and pride and dumb shit like that."
"Sounds like jealousy and obsession."
"He framed her for murder and there's nothing we can do about it. Ever since he told us, Beyonce drinks like crazy when she thinks about it. She's not over it, and I don't expect her to be. He just... He came at the worst possible time. We were just getting good."
"Really?"
I nodded, still looking up at the ceiling, "She said she wasn't leaving me, I mean as long as I do everything that I have been doing. She wants me to feel guilty. Do you think that's selfish?"
"I don't speak on my other clients to my other clients. Especially to their partners."
I sighed. My feelings began to overflow and tears filled my eyes.
"There's just way too much going on, still. I thought we were gonna be alright. I thought we could finally work on us and be happy doing it. We were working on getting me pregnant, and I haven't been to the doctor yet because I'm afraid. Don't wanna go there and they tell me I'm not. It's too much."
"I can't say that a child right now would be good for the two of you."
"I don't think you see pregnancy and motherhood the way Beyoncé does. She's a feign for it, would get me pregnant over and over if I let her. I think she'll fall into my lap if I'm pregnant and that's all I want. All I want is my woman with no more complications. I can handle Beyoncé and I's issues, but this? This is too much. And what do I tell Ivory? This is bigger than just me."
It was quiet before she said, "This is what I got from all that. You feel like you're stuck in an unmovable position because technically Eric is dead, and his actions are ruining all the progress you guys were making."
"Yes! We were okay before he showed his ass up. He keeps trying to pressure me to tell Ivory that he's her father but that shit's not going to happen. I don't owe him a damn thing. He left, not me. I can let my daughter see whoever I want. He's not one of them. My daughter's good, been good since she was born. I refuse to let someone that wishy-washy into her life. Father or not."
"Well just like you're stuck, so is he. He can't fight for custody because he signed his rights away and in the eyes of the law, he is a deceased man. There is no fight to be had. The both of you are stuck in an unwinnable position. What you should do is focus on your home. You can't protect yourselves from outside dangers when you're falling apart on the inside."
I knew what she was getting at, and Beyoncé hadn't told her, but I had to. I wanted to help Beyoncé before things got out of hand.
"How bad is the drinking?" She asked me.
I shrugged, "I'm scared, and I've expressed that to her. I guess that was all she had to numb her pain when she was behind bars, but she's not in there anymore. There are healthier ways for her to cope."
Beyonce wasn't an angry drunk or even a sad drunk. If anything, Beyonce was a very lovey drunk. She wanted to be all over me, wanted to give me kisses and touch all over me. The thought of her not being able to remember what she'd said to me the day before turned me off completely. She was using alcohol as a crutch and she couldn't see it.
"Take all alcohol from the home."
"That's not going to stop her from getting it."
"Well that isn't the point. How often does she drink?"
"Whenever she thinks about Eric or prison or Shanté. And that's becoming almost every day."
"How does that affect the children?"
"It doesn't. I won't let her around them even though she wants to be. It's becoming a problem, and I don't want it to get to the point where she depends on a drink to get out of the bed. I have to help, but she won't let me. She doesn't think it's a problem. I won't be with an alcoholic, I can't do that."
Houston, Texas
June 22nd
Beyoncé Giselle Knowles
Across the Plexiglass, Talia was smiling. I hadn't seen her in a minute, but I needed her.
Talia hadn't said anything outright because she was a smart girl, but I used my context clues. There had been no one here for her, no one that cared about her wellbeing enough to come see her with their own two eyes. But she had family that would do the things that she couldn't do because she was here, because she didn't have the heart, and because she couldn't get away with it. Obviously.
"What happened to you last week?" She asked.
"Been dealing with too much and I wanted to talk about it. Need something from you."
"You think I can give you anything from here?"
I nodded my head, "But I want you to know my situation so what I ask you for doesn't make me look crazy."
"Okay..." She looked at me skeptically.
"Do you remember Eric?"
"Your wife's ex-husband?"
"Yeah. He popped up on us a couple weeks ago."
She looked confused, and I knew what she was thinking.
"I know, but he's not," I said.
"How the hell—"
"I told y'all I didn't do that. I never touched that girl even when she was alive but everybody thinks just because I pled guilty means it's true."
"You can't blame them for that though Bey. You served ten years."
"I know. I just... I'm so angry. He ruined my life. None of this would have ever happened if it weren't for him. I can't blame Onika anymore because Shante didn't do it because of Onika, she didn't do it at all. It was all Eric and there's nothing I can do about it."
My legs bounced rapidly.
The need for revenge was running through my veins, seeping deeper into my bloodstream. I was angry. I had misplaced my anger, had blamed Onika for so long, holding resentment against her and she hadn't been the cause of this. Shante was crazy, but not to the point of this insanity. I was pissed off. No matter what I did, I could never get that decade back. No amount of money the courts gave me—if any—could give me my life back.
There would've been no Noir, no space and opportunity for Onika's vulnerability to carry her strong emotions to some woman. Separation had caused wandering, and we would have never separated if it weren't for him.
As much as I was angry, I was afraid as well. Eric was so determined to do something that he had killed, faked a death, waited an entire decade, then doubled back to check his work.
I felt helpless behind a man that I should never feel helpless behind. I felt wounded, had never felt this way before.
I told Talia with tears splattering my face, "I feel like a pawn. Like I'm not a real person. Like my life doesn't matter yet me and my family are the ones being affected. I know you know what that feels like Talia."
She nodded her head, the look in her eyes growing grim.
"I feel so stuck, like there's nothing I can do."
"That feeling of you down at the bottom brings the worst actions Beyoncé."
"I can't be still Talia."
"How've you been getting through so far?"
"Drinking," I looked away from her, "I just don't want to feel like this anymore."
"I won't lie to you," She warned.
"Never asked you to."
"What does the wife say?"
"The wife doesn't say anything. I know she doesn't approve, but she doesn't wanna push too hard. I'm scaring her."
"So stop."
"It's the only thing that makes me feel remotely okay with this situation."
"No, it doesn't. It makes you forget about the situation altogether."
I nodded.
"Beyoncé that's not good."
"I know."
"So stop," Her voice was the most stern I had ever heard, "You did that here because you had to, and you went home to a living family that love you so damn much, and you are going to let alcohol ruin that for you. I understand what you feel, alcohol just isn't the way to go about."
I nodded, but I was already finished with that portion of the conversation. I needed something to fix my dilemma permanently. I was tired of pop-ups and surprises. Tired of being blindsided in my own home.
"Your cousin... what's his name?"
She raised an eyebrows, "I hope not Damien."
"Yeah, him."
"He can't do nothing good for you."
"Not looking for a bake sale."
I stared into her with desperation in my eyes. I was a woman that was struggling to protect, struggling to be everything to everyone. A wife, a mother, a friend. Yet I could be none of those. I was tired of this.
"Can't help you with that sweetie."
"I know you can't. That's why we're talking about Damien."
I stopped speaking and she did too, the both of us staring at one another like some fools. I had my mind made up and there was no deterring me. Not even she could make me look at this differently.
The chatter of everyone else's conversations drowned out our silence. She didn't want to give in to me, didn't want to give me what I needed. I was so desperate, I wasn't leaving until the digits fell into my memory.
"Stop staring at me Beyoncé."
"You know what I need, and you know I'm not leaving without it. I need it. I am very tired Talia."
My desperation pulled at her pity. Talia looked at me like I was her mother, and though she may not agree with all my decisions, she understood me.
So I waited. I looked at her with soft eyes and waited for her to break down. When the wait became too long, I begged, "Please?"
She sighed and put ten of her fingers up. I nodded to show her I was paying attention and she began holding up the cell numbers. When she was done, I nodded, told her that I got it. I wasn't forgetting that.
"Tell him I send love."
I nodded. After a little more conversation, I left anxiously, couldn't wait to get out of there. I was buzzing all the way to my car and immediately called the phone number Talia had given me.
The other end picked up almost immediately. "Who is this?" His baritone voice answered like he was angry without even knowing.
"Who is this?" I answered back.
"You called this number so you obviously have a reference. Tell me or stop playing with my damn time."
"Talia gave me your phone number."
"Talia Coleman
I nodded my head like he could see me, "Yeah."
He sounded skeptical just speaking to me, "What's your name?"
"Beyoncé."
"Meet me Miss Beyoncé."
He told me where, told me to meet him publicly with lots of people around. Confusing to me considering what he did, but I didn't question it.
I was in the parking lot of a restaurant that Onika and I loved. Everything made me skeptical. I wondered how in the world he knew this was where we liked to go.
The outside was Mediterranean looking while the inside had a Mexican feel and the food was Greek. Onika loved the confusing contrast. I was just pleased with whatever she liked.
My tinted windows forced me to catch Damien before he caught me. He was largely built, bigger than a bear, and darker than the night sky. He was bald, a goatee being the most hair he owned. I only knew it was him because him and Talia looked so much alike. Made me wonder what side of her family he lied on.
I opened up my door, attempted to get out of the car, but he pointed back to the car and I stopped. I shut my door again, watching him walk to the passenger side and get in.
"What you need?" He asked me immediately, no time to waste.
"I just talked to Talia today—"
"Me too."
I cleared my throat, "I heard what you do and I need your services very soon."
"I do a lot of things. Be clear."
We just stared at one another. Didn't know how much clearer I could get without blatantly opening my mouth about this man's business.
He handed me a slip of paper. It was a business card for an art gallery. He said, "Give me a name, and buy a painting. Come to the gallery and buy something. They'll all be priced equivalently."
I flipped the card and saw a phone number on the back.
"You can only call that phone number, no text massages. Like I said before, don't waste my time. Don't call that phone with bullshit. You pay me on time and we'll be the best of friends."
___________
now leave me alone.