Charge It To The Game Read online

  Cha-Ching

  Charge it to the Game A Novel by Tonya Blount

  Copyright © 2006 by Tonya Blount Published by Two of a Kind Publishing 3120 Milton Road Charlotte, NC 28215

  www.twoofakindpublishing.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or photocopying, recording, or by any information mechanical, storage and including

  retrieval system without the written permission from the publisher or author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real persons. All the characters, incidents and dialogues are the products of the author‘s imagination and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or person living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Editor: Jermaine Vaughn & Angela Smith Book Layout: Lisa Gibson-Wilson

  Renaissance Management Services www.renmanserv.com

  Cover Design: Andre Michael Photography

  First printing March 2006

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN:

  In loving memory of Daddy: Ronald Nathaniel Vaughn— a true warrior. Just when I thought I could lose no more, I lost the greatest. What would I give to dance with my father again? I miss you, and love you always, Daddy!

  and

  Tone, Mars, Britt, LaLa, and D-man The music to my soul…

  Acknowledgements

  First, thanks to God for blessing me with discerning eyes to see the message through all the pain, loss, and grief. To my beautiful children: Thank you for loving me unconditionally, for sacrificing ―our‖ time and understanding that to whom much is given, much is required. I am so blessed! Mommy (my northern star), even in your grief, you reached out to others, you still gave your love, you still managed to smile, and you continued to give God the glory. There is no other woman in the world like you, and I am so proud that you are my mother. To my siblings: Jermaine, Ronald ―Ronnie, Jr.,‖ and Jennifer: Y‘all complete my circle. I LOVE YOU!!!

  I must thank the following people: James Smith, the Bradley, Baker, Wilson, Crisp, Cox, Young, Tranum, Welcome and Woodley families, Gwendolyn Thomas, Bolling, Richard at God!), Chavon Thompson, Vernon Harrison, Jr., Bettie Watkins, Lonnie McKinstry, LisaRenae Johnson, and Denise Hanney.

  ―Rick‖ Baker, Lonnel Lewis, Tracy Matos, Angela Smith, Jeannean ―Nee Nee‖ Ross, Yolonda Wilson, Kodzina ―Koddy‖ Griffin (Look To my writer friends for your support and love: Nathasha Brooks-Harris, C. Rene West, and Danielle Santiago. To Richmond‘s 106.5 The Beat‘s mid-day mommie, Mahogany Brown, and Marc Medley of 93.7 FM in New Jersey for your continued support.

  Special thanks to Brother James Muhammad for staying on me, allowing me to join your family and share your vision. I know that I tested your patience. I hope that the final project was worth it. Your honesty is a rarity in this industry. It is so much appreciated.

  I could not have created this work without my cousin, Timothy ―Tim‖ Baker. Thank you for assisting me with the research and most of all your support and ear no matter what hour of the day I called. This is it…for real, boo!

  Love and blessings to the courageous sisters whom I have been blessed to meet during my visits at domestic violence shelters, I know first hand your plight; remember that God is a deliverer. To my brothers on lock down (especially Todd, Jay, and Andre) your letters have touched my life, too. Hugs to my loyal readers and fans, you continue to inspire me with your emails.

  Laboring and giving birth to this project was the most challenging yet. In less than five months, I suddenly lost three significant people in my life. Writing, the natural process that usually heals my soul was impossible to do. The words danced in my head, the characters spoke, but my heart was broken and I lost the passion to create. With that said, I give honor to the following

  people that have went on to Glory for allowing their spirits to comfort me when I needed them the most: To a true Queen…Akua Pace: Thank you for being the sister that my mother needed. You were the epitome of what a woman should be. The world is missing your beautiful spirit. Jeffrey ―Jay‖ Lewis (my hero): Recently, I had to mourn you all over again and it hurt just like the very first time. Fly free and in peace, Crystal Bowers: you have earned your wings. And to my Daddy: The handsome, brave and talented man that shook things up on this earth. I know you are watching and protecting me, I feel your spirit when I need you the most. Still, I would do anything to have you sitting next to me right now. I hope you know how proud I was of you…I still am. Love you, Ton.

  Peace and blessings,

  Tonya Blount

  [email protected]

  The streets don‘t got no soul…so I trust no bitch! Storm Williams

  Prologue

  ―Why do you care so much?‖ I shouted. ―Why do you care why I have chosen this life? I mean you keep talking about what made me choose this path…what made me take this road? What makes you think I chose it? How do you know that itdidn‘t choose me?‖

  ―You‘re right. I don‘t know,‖ the interviewer responded. ―Why don‘t you tell me?‖

  ―You got to know where I‘ve been to know who I am,‖ I replied in a voice filled with rage. ―Why the hell do you care?‖

  ―I care because I am a woman of God,‖ the interviewer replied. ―The word says, the Lord asks how can you love me and you have never seen me and not love your neighbor. So-‖

  ―Didn‘t I tell you before I don‘t want to hear that shit?‖

  TONYA BLOUNT I interrupted. ―I ain‘t tryin‘ to hear that. If that‘s all you got to talk about then you can get the hell out of here. I don‘t need to hear that shit right now. It ain‘t gonna help me.‖

  ―Okay, then what do you think will help you?‖ ―What‘s gonna help me? What‘s gonna help me is getting out of here…this hospital bed and make me better, so I can go home. Tell yourGod to do that. Can He do that?‖ Suddenly a thick cloud of bitterness filled the air.

  ―Yes, He can,‖ she answered softly.

  I turned my head away. ―Uh, huh…I bet.‖

  ―Why are you so bitter and angry with the Lord? What happened to you?‖

  ―Oh, so now what…youcan‘t see?‖

  ―This…your anger, and your bitterness transcends

  beyond why you are here now. It‘s deeper than this moment.‖ My lips began to twitch. How could she know?―It don‘t matter.‖

  ―Yes, it does. Please tell me what happened to you.‖ ―Why should I?‖ I snapped. ―I don‘t know you. Tell me why the fuck should I trust you?‖

  ―Because somewhere deep inside…you want to let it go,‖ the interviewer answered patiently. ―I know you do. You want to let go of the pain that has held you in captivity. You need to free yourself,‖ the interviewer took my hand. ―You need to speak to the Lord and tell Him why you‘re angry.‖

  I turned my head to face her and mumbled, ―Ain‘t shit to say.‖

  ―I don‘t believe that. In fact, I think the opposite. I believe you have a lot you want to say.‖

  CHA-CHING ―I don‘t give a damn what you believe!‖

  ―Storm, you can lay there and cuss, and be mean all you want…I‘m not going anywhere today until you tell me. You are not going to scare me away.‖ She gently took my hand and placed it in hers. ―So you might as well start talking. Go on…tell me what happened the day you believe that God stopped hearing you.‖

  That last sentence had quickly opened up the floodgate of my memory, the painful memory attached to a past I had tried to forget -- one that had scarred me the last 14 years of my life. That tragic day that marked the beginning of i
t. In an instant, I was eleven years old again. I carefully licked my lips, took a deep breath and finally shared my history.

  Part I

  Why it chose me?

  Chapter 1

  May 1989 I hated Thursday nights. No matter what I did I wasn‘t ever able to convince Aunt Hope to take me along with her to Bingo. She knew I couldn‘t stand her stink-lazy-assdope fiend countrified boyfriend Smoke, but she acted like she didn‘t care and she would leave me with him anyway.

  While Aunt Hope was gone I would usually try and keep myself occupied writing in my diary. I had been writing in it since I was six years old. Sometimes when I write in my diary I think of Momma, and then I get real sad. That was the only present under the tree for me in Christmas of 1984. In fact, that was the last thing my Momma gave me. Momma went to the store right after I opened up my gift, and she never came back. After the second day had passed by, and all the Ritz crackers were gone, my stomach was hurting real bad…it felt like an 18 wheeler truck had landed in there and broke down. I started vomiting all over the place. But no food came out— just some bubbly yellowish spit. I remember I was so scared. I thought I was gonna die right then and there.

  I crawled out of the living room window and went down the fire escape to Miss Penny‘s house. She never locked her window. I think because she knew I came and ate some of her food once in a while. She never caught me, I was always careful and I would make sure to clean up my mess. But I could tell she knew I was there by the way she would look at me sometimes when we would pass each other in the hallway. She would give me that I-know-you-snuck-in-my-house-but-Iain‘t-gonna-tell-cause-I-fell-sorry-for-you look.

  When I got inside of Miss Penny‘s house, I went in the kitchen, took a Twinkie and then I called Aunt Hope. About an hour later she came and got me. Now Aunt Hope wasn‘t really my aunt, she was my Momma‘s best friend, but she always acted like my aunt.

  When I was too sad to write, I would start to crochet. I loved to crochet. Aunt Hope taught me how to do it. I used to like to make new things. But we didn‘t have a lot of money, so sometimes I had to take a loose some of the things I had made just so I could make something else. I hated it when I had to do that.

  This night…I felt too sad to write, and too mad to crochet. So I decided to turn on the T.V. and started watching Knots Landing—one of my favorite shows. Now, I loved watching how rich white people lived. And I promised myself that one day I was gonna live just like them. I had it all planned out. By the time, I was 16, I was gonna pack up all of my diaries, Ashley— my baby doll, my crochet needle and I was gonna leave tired ass Bushwick and move to Manhattan where all the rich people lived. And I wasn‘t never ever gonna look back. Well, I thought about calling Aunt Hope once in a while—just to see if she heard from my Momma. But that was it.

  I always dreamt big. I was gonna live in a tall building, right next to the Empire State Building, with a doorman, a red sports car—maybe a Honda Accord, twenty pairs of high heeled shoes, different panties for every day of the week, and a cute husband—with a lot of money. And he had to have a lot of his own money. I had watched Aunt Hope take care of dope fiend Smoke and I knew I wasn‘t hardly ‗bout to take care of no man.

  Smoke always had a house full of company when Aunt Hope would leave the house. And all his friends were dope fiends just like him. The only good thing about them coming over was it would keep Smoke out my face while they were there. He was always ordering me around like he was my father.

  This night was a little different…there was a man I had never seen before. He was high-yellow with ringlets of curly brown hair, freckles and green eyes--they were a little darker than mine. He didn‘t look so poor either. I didn‘t know what he was doing hanging out with those dope fiends though. I thought maybe he didn‘t know they were. On second thought, he had to know because they had been in there really cutting up...laughing, coughing and then laughing again. When they did that that always meant they were getting high.

  I tried not to pay them no attention and kept on watching Knots Landing--even though it was a repeat. But all of the sudden it got real quiet. No laughing or coughing. Nothing. I thought I heard a little whispering but that was it. I turned down the volume on the T.V. to see if I could hear anything but I didn‘t. So, I tipped-toed all the way to the end of the hallway and peeped through the beads that were hanging from the archway, and I couldn‘t believe my eyes. Smoke was sitting on the couch holding this glass pipe with smoke coming out of it and was tongue kissing Skeet. Bill was taking his hand and was slowly going up and down on the highyellow man‘s dick. Then he stuck his tongue out and started licking the pink part—just like he was licking ice cream. Then the highyellow man pushed Bill‘s head toward his dick and Bill put the whole thing in his mouth. The whole thing. AllI saw was his hair. It wasn‘t pretty and curly like the hair on his head either. The hair that was wrapped around his dick was black and looked nappy.

  The horrific scene made a sudden queasiness ripple in my stomach. The dinner that I had eaten earlier was trying to make an exit. I was trying to keep it in but started to gag. I ain‘t mean to make any noise, it just came out. Smoke heard me and he quickly took his tongue out of Skeets‘ mouth, pushed him away and looked at me. I panicked and tried to run, but my eyes had already connected with Smoke‘s and the hate in his bloody red eyes had paralyzed me. Finally, he nodded to Skeet and whispered, ―Oh, shit, Storm.‖ His words were magical because in a quickness they moved both of my feet and I ran as fast as I could right back into my room.

  I sat on the radiator staring at the darkness of the alleyway wondering what I should do. Then, footsteps interrupted my thoughts. I started to count each one as they walked pass my bedroom and exited the apartment. Suddenly, I heard Smoke walking then he stopped at my doorway. Everything felt as if it were going in slow motion. My heart started beating so fast. I knew Smoke was gonna spank the living shit out of me for snooping around. Aunt Hope had always told me I was too nosey for my own good and I needed to stay out of grown folks business. Did I listen? No, me and my nosey ass self had to go searching for trouble. And I wasn‘t happy until I saw Smoke and his friends fucking.

  All I could think to do was put on layers of clothing, in an attempt to minimize the pain. I grabbed my corduroy pants and put them on, then my Michael Jordan hooded sweatshirt. I looked around my room hoping an escape would miraculously appear. Nothing.

  Finally, the door opened and I saw Smoke‘s shadow and I quickly felt his anger. I cleared my thought. ―I‘m… I‘m sorry,‖ I stammered while pushing the dangling strands of hair away from my face. ―I‘m sorry Smoke. I ain‘t mean to be minding your business. I was hungry and I just wanted to go…I mean I was getting-‖

  Smoke slowly shut and locked the door. Then he walked over to me, covered my mouth and stared down at me with a curious look. For some reason, I began to feel ashamed…knowing what I had witnessed. I looked away, avoiding eye contact. Aunt Hope, please come home. Aunt Hope wasn‘t expected home for another forty-five minutes, and time didn‘t show any mercy, it continued crawling on broken legs.

  ―Take off your clothes, Storm,‖ Smoke demanded in a southern drawl. ―Why?‖ I asked wiping away the warm tears off of my cheeks. Then I started backing away from him, using my hands to guide me around the tiny dark room. I hoped I would get lucky and talk him out of it. ―I said I‘m sorry Smoke. I ain‘t gonna tell…I promise you. You got my word, I ain‘t gonna say nothing. Just forget I saw you. Okay? That‘s all. All right, Smoke?‖

  In a flash, Smoke reached, grabbed me by my sweatshirt and threw me on my bed. The sounds of the mattress springs echoed off the quiet walls. ―I ain‘t gonna tell your ass again. Take off your fuckin‘ clothes or I‘m gonna take them off foryou.‖

  ―Don‘t spank me,‖ I pleaded. Suddenly the look in his eyes told me I was about to get more than a spanking. ―Pleeaaaaase, Smoke. No.‖

  Smoke started ripping my pants off. I struggled and wiggled to get away from him. But I
couldn‘t beat his quickness or strength. He pulled me back toward him. With one hand he covered my mouth, and the other hand he unzipped his pants. Then an awful smell of musk and funk was immediately released. I started to gag. But I had no time to get ill, I had to stop Smoke. I punched him in his back, and dug my nails in his skin. Then with all of my strength I pushed down on his shoulder blades. All of my attempts to free myself from his vicious hold were futile.

  Please God stop him. I thought as I moved my head from side-to-side. Please God don’t let him put that thing in me. ―If you promise to be quiet I‘ll let you go. I‘m just gonna show you something. I ain‘t gonna hurt you. Okay? You promise you‘ll be quiet?‖

  I nervously shook my head yes.

  Smoke moved his stiff member closer to my private. ―Now, I‘m telling you…if you scream, I‘ma put it in. I‘m ‗bout to take my hand off. If you say one fuckin‘ word, I‘m gonna push it in. You ready?‖

  ―Umm hmm.‖

  Smoke lifted his fingers, one by one. Then he lifted his palm off of my lips. I wanted to scream for help. However, the thickness and the heat penetrating from his penis reminded me of his earlier warning. I decided against it.

  ―Why you doin‘ this to me?‖ I cried. Even at my

  young age, I always knew that Smoke was in moral prison, yet I never could have imagined him doing this to me. Without saying a word, Smoke smacked me. My face was stinging then it became numb. ―Didn‘t I tell you not to open up your mouth? You such a gotdamn actress! You don‘t‘ listen…do you? Huh? That‘s your damn problem…so hardheaded. Now see what you done made me do.‖

  I knew I had nothing else to lose. No matter whether I was quiet or not, Smoke was going to rape me. I pleaded with him once more. ―Why? But I‘m a little girl.‖ I reminded him in a whisper.

  Smoke ignored me. He grabbed my hands and without warning or pity he furiously rammed himself in my frail body. My entire body was burning in pain. I don‘t know how, but Smoke was enjoying it.