Divine Interlude, Gemini [best beach reads of all time txt] 📗

them were true dimes. Sure, they looked the part, but failed to have anything intelegent or original to say. The essence to a true dime is a woman that is just as beautiful on the inside as they were on the outside. Most men brought dimes, because of the added attention it brought to him. It intrigued women to see a man with a beautiful women, this made him more appealing. That was the difference between men and women. A woman could compliment another woman on the way she looked or how nice her outfit was up together. There were so many nights that I could recall overhearing one women compliment another. “Girl those some sharp ass boots, and I love that matching purse. You doing the damn thang.” I would then here the same women that delivered the compliment, turn back to the group of women she was with, and state, “That bitch thinks she all that and a bag of chips.” But it was that attention that a true dime would bring to a man, seeming to make him more marketable. He had to be doing something right to have a dime on his arm.
In few days Charlene and I would make our official debut. We had did the movie and dinner scene, we even had frequented a few hot clubs, but never an event of this magnitude. This in itself was a loud statement to all the women that I had dated BC (Before Charlene), that I was no longer interested in what they had to offer. After a few months of the cold shoulder which consisted of unreturned phone calls, disregarded text messages, and failed attempts at having Willy Wonky and his Chocolate factory, most of the ladies got the point. Although there were still a few that were holding on to a dream. The difference between my Chocolate Factor and Rkelly’s was that none of the women I dealt with were under age, or had an incriminating video of me. So I wasn’t expecting any drama.
Before we went to the mall Marcus had to stop at his office to have a contract signed by some brothers he seemed really excited to do business with. He said this deal would launch him into a whole new market, because these brothers were well connected to some rich and high profiled individuals. I love watching my baby handle his business, but I got off more watching him handle his pleasure. I must admit he handled both extremely well. I remember asking him one night at dinner, “Sweetie what do you enjoy more, business or pleasure.” Before he responded he took a bite of his shrimp alfredo , not rushing into his answer. He took his time as he did with everything. He was a perfectionist that way, and wanted whatever he said to be 100% thought out. “Everything is business weather it is pleasing your woman, or making a client happy, so I prefer that all business done with me is a pleasure,” he responded, and then took another bite from his shrimp alfredo, as if he had just given he I have a dream speech. He looked up at me and we both laughed. I knew his answer was sincere, but he was being silly by acting cocky and arrogant, he was far from either.
When we arrived at his office, my phone began to ring. I looked at the caller ID and it was my girl Kenya. She had been out of town for about 4 or 5 days visiting her family. “Hey girl”, I said full of excitement. It had been a few days since I talked to her, so when Marcus asked was I coming up to the office with him, I told him I needed to catch up with Kenya, so I would wait in the car. “Go ahead and gossip, I’ll be right back” he said before he kissed me on the cheek and went into his office building. “Okay he gone. So how was the visit with your family,” I asked cautiously, bracing myself for an emotional breakdown. I wasn’t trying to be sneaking my not asking her this in front of Marcus, but he had no idea of her family background and even though I loved my man, I would never betray my best friend by telling her business.
Kenya was adopted at the age of seven by relatives after her mother choose her man over her child. Her mother’s half brother, his wife, and their two daughters made a home for Kenya. From the age of seven to fourteen, she was molested off and on, more on than off. Kenya blamed her family for the hell she went through, which really put a strain on the relationship she had with her mother, and those she considered family, including her grandmother and aunts. She felt they knew how her uncle was but choose to do nothing to stop him. So when she told me she was going to see her family, I was alittle more than surprised.
When she turned up pregnant at age 15, her Uncle beat her until she miscarried. She managed to call 911, and after an indepth investigation the authorities determined that not only that her Uncle had been molesting her, but he was also the father of her dead fetus. When the county was informed, the child protective agency investigated further and discovered that her Uncle’s wife had known what was going on the entire time. She even broke down in tears, and admitted that when Kenya was abandoned by her mother, she pursued getting custody of her to prevent her husband from touching their daughters. She knew of her husband’s weakness, and thought another child would keep him away from her girls.
She went on begging for forgiveness and stated that when her girls were young she found him in a compromising situation with them. She walked in and saw all three of them in the tub together. She said that sight was enough to make the terrible decision to bring an innocent child into a dysfunctional and harmful household. Her aunt said she regretted it everyday. The prosecutor of the case said she had yet to begin to know what regret truly felt like but that she would soon learn. The case got a lot of local attention, and once the reporters got hold of the story there was a lot of finger pointing within Kenya’s family. The grandmother blamed Kenya’s aunts, the aunts blamed the man that Kenya’s mother ran off with and once Kenya’s mother, who had been harder to locate then the Taliban cell Bin Laden hide in came out of hiding she blamed everyone but herself. When the trial came to a close, her uncles wife not only lost custody of the children she thought she was protecting by her horrific deed, but she also was sentenced to 3 ½ years in prison. The prosecutor then aimed her sights on Kenya’s uncle, she tried to get him for murder, for killing the baby that Kenya carried but the state wouldn’t convict him of murder, so she got him on felonious assault against a minor, domestic violence, staturtory rape, intimidation, molestation and every other tion and ing that she could throw at him until his sentence added up to 22 years. So when Kenya said she was going to see her family it was said with much sarcasm, although at the end of the trial, her mother, grandmother, and aunts wanted to take her in. Kenya told the Child Protection Agency if you send me to any of them I will runaway and with the Prosecuter right by Kenya’s side she added, if Kenya is placed back into the hands that did not protect her before, I will be forced to look into a case against the Children Protection Agency. Kenya’s “family visit” was actually her going to speak against her uncle being parolled after only serving 15 years. Kenya was face to face with all the people that ever hurt and/or betrayed her. Kenya’s mother, grandmother and her aunts were there to offer what little support they could, Kenya chose not to even sit near them. The Judge opened the floor and asked were there anyone that would like to speak on behalf of her uncle. Kenya began to tell me that his wife stepped up, I could hear Kenya’s voice begin to crack as tears flowed from her face when she started to repeat the testimony of his wife, “my husband has lost 15 years of being in his childrens life, they have missed years of his nurturing, gentle love”. Kenya said that’s when she lost it and blurted out load, “his love wasn’t fucking nurturing and gentle to me”. Kenya was also hurt that her cousins who when being raised, she considered her sisters looked down on her and even seemed to hold a grudge against her, like it was her fault that their father couldn’t keep his hands off of her, she was angry because they were able to go on with life without the baggage, counseling and years of therapy that Kenya went through. They went to college, had healthy relationships with men, and had a family, something she truly wanted. When I hear people make general comments, like I wish I was that beautiful or had that kind of money and then go on to say how they would never have anything to complain about. It bothers me because it is such an ignorant statement. I mean I will be the first to tell you my girl is gorgeous and has plenty of paper, especially with all the recommendation I throw her way. But to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t want to switch places with the life she had lived by no means. As pretty as Kenya is, her experiences have made her extremely tough, predominately in terms of her relationships with the opposite sex. She doesn’t trust them. This I don’t blame her for, but she is too controlling. I guess having being controlled for so long by her Uncle she is determined to maintain the upper-hand at all times. We have been girls for so long, and I am committed to providing her with whatever she needs to get through it. As Kenya and I began to get on the subject of Marcus and I, I received an alert from my cell phone that I was being sent a text message. “Baby I will be down in a minute. Sorry the meeting took so long. Love Marcus.” I told Kenya to hold for a few while I read the message. When I returned to our conversation, I said, “Speak of the devil.” I had not even noticed that I had now been waiting for my boo for about 20 minutes. I guess gossiping really does make the time fly by. I told Kenya that I would call her after we came from the mall. “Okay, sis, call me later,” Kenya said.
Kenya and I had been calling each other sisters since the first night she broke down and told me the awful details of childhood. From the moment on, I vowed to Kenya and the lord, that I would be her sister, her friend, and her confidant.
Marcus strolled out of his office with two gentleman in tow. All of them were carrying briefcases.