Tangled Web Candy Rayne
Pink Kiss Publishing Company Gautier, Mississippi
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual event or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Tangled Web Copyright Š 2011 by Candy Rayne All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Pink Kiss Publishing Company at the address below. Cover designed by CreationsbyDonna@gmail.com Layout and Interior Designed by: glendawallace@pinkkisspublishing.com ISBN 978-0-9847455-7-9 Library of Congress Control Number: 2011962937 Published by: Pink Kiss Publishing Company P.O. Box 744 Gautier, Mississippi 39553 (228) 366-6829 www.pinkkisspublishing.com
This novel is dedicated to God, my parents, Husband, brother, and kids. You all inspire me to be better and for that I thank you!!!!!
Acknowledgments First of all I would like to thank God, for without Him none of this would be possible. I always brag on Him making my life better and better with each coming year. I would like to thank my mother Barbara Spivey for giving me life and also the title to the story, at crunch time while I was still crunching words. I would also like to thank my father, Arthur Spivey (RIP). I entertain my husband for hours with things you have said. You will always be remembered. To my other mommy Christine Crane, thank you for raising such a wonderful man and being such a caring person. To my husband Talaneous Henry, one kiss is worth a million words. You are beautiful!! To my children Aaliyah, Stormi, and TaKeam, anything that you strive for you can achieve. If all else fails be your own inspiration. All of your dreams are at your fingertips! To my niece Makayla, you are definitely growing up to be a lovely young lady. The world is yours!! To my brother Arthur Spivey Jr, I finally did it, we gotta celebrate!! To my grandparents on my mother’s side, Burton Kukowski and Gertrude Kukowski (RIP), I love you all. My grandparents on my father’s side, Henry Spivey (RIP) and Bernice Spivey (RIP), you are all inspirations. Thank you so much!! Thank you Uncle Gary for being there when I needed someone to balance out life. Aunt Pauline I love you, the book is finally out Yaay!! To all of the rest of my aunts and Uncles I love you all and thank you for being a part of my life. Thank you to Northrop Grumman and Huntington- Ingalls for allowing me to go through your electrical apprenticeship program and develop skills for a long lasting career. That is definitely appreciated. To all of my cousins I love you all as well. This has been my dream and it is finally happening! Thank you to Glenda Wallace and all of the editors and staff at Pink Kiss Publishing. Mrs. Glenda when I sent you the novel and you loved it, I was so overjoyed!! Thank you for giving me the wonderful opportunity to be a part of such a talented team. To all of the authors on Pink Kiss thank you for being so warm and
welcoming. Extra special thanks to Donna Osborne Clark for the cover picture. It is wonderful and paints a wonderful picture that fits the story in so many ways.
Bout My Business My name is Keisha Clarence. I work at Applebee’s in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. It doesn’t exactly pay the best out here, but it pays the bills. I am twenty-five years old, and I have no children. Fancy the hell out of that. It’s very uncommon for people my age around here. I have my standards, though, and I am not going to give my life to just anything. These people that have the nerve to “mack” ain’t got shit. They either on drugs or dealin’ them. I am not trying to live my life like that. After one date, they want you in bed, and I am like, “Dayum! I still don’t know what you have to offer me or anything.” I am by far no goody two shoes or anything. I am not a virgin, but I am more likely to let them go before I become attached, because none of them have shit to offer the family I want to have. He ain’t gotta have a Bentley or nothing like that, but damn! Have a decent job please. I feel like I am worth at least that. I look good. I am 5’5 130 pounds, average build. I keep my hair done in the latest styles. Well to hell with it. I am single. ***** Another day in paradise. Here comes those happy-go-lucky muthafuckas all over each other. Every time they come in here, they all hugged up and kissing. They must be on that horny drug. That broad is dumb. He has some stupid chick on the side that loves him just because he is with that bitch. They wear jumpers sometimes. They work at the shipyard, so I know he fucks around, cuz I carried on an affair with a married man from over there before—knocked his ass off before I caught feelings. Oh well. I hope this bitch is strong enough for the truth when it hits her. I laugh with them sometimes, but they don’t know I am laughing at them. It’s time for me to get the hell out of here. Life 2
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is heartbreak, and everyone is stupid. To believe in it and all, I need to love me. I wanna get a tattoo of my own damn name and another one that says, “Fuck niggaz, get money.” I’m really not all that hood, though, so it will probably just say, “Get money.” My damn sister, Ciasia, has four kids. Guess how many baby daddies. Four! Fancy the fuck out of that. She calls herself a hopeless romantic. Where the fuck you draw the line between hopeless romantic and dumb whore? Don’t I sound judgmental? I sound like I am trying to take over for God, don’t I? Naw. I’m just a realist, and you don’t find too many of those down here. That’s why I don’t fuck with anyone and they don’t fuck with me. I was born in Ocean Springs Hospital and raised in Ocean Springs. I got this job when I turned eighteen and moved the hell out to this okay apartment in Pascagoula. I ain’t plannin’ to be there too much longer though. Damn, my phone is ringing. It’s that nigga Patrick that works at the GameStop. He is cool, but he lives with his mama, and it don’t seem like he is going to move out anytime soon. I decide to ignore his call as I get into my ‘06 Escalade. I got a lot of nerve having one of those, don’t I? Well, a bitch gotta live. ***** When I get back home, I check my messages and see one from my mom saying that my sister is being taken to court by her youngest baby-daddy for a DNA test. She is very upset, and I need to talk to her. She is thirty, and she needs to be talking to me about how stressful it is to have this damn perm burn my head. Oh well. Good thing for micro braids, cuz those’ll hold me over for a while. That broad hates to be alone, so she goes and has a baby to keep a damn nigga on a leash. How the hell can I tell her a baby isn’t gonna keep a man who doesn’t want you? Hell, a baby is another you. It whines to be held, and it has to be fed and clothed. It gives him another responsibility when he would rather be hanging with his boys. And on top of all that, my dumb-ass sister has another boyfriend. I tried to talk to her about perma-
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nent birth control, and she liked to have killed me. Oh, well, who am I to keep her man trap (repellant) away from her? Tomorrow is trash day, so I gotta be sure to get the trash out to the corner.
What Hit Me Damn. Morning is here already, and I forgot to get the damn trash to the street! That shit stinks. I need a maid. Fuck that. I might be a diva, but my ass ain’t rich. They need to come fix this damn sink, I mumble to myself as I grab my robe before heading to the kitchen to get the trash. As I am walking to the street someone grabs me from behind. Instinctively, I began fighting, but he is much too strong. He pulled me behind a row of shrubs blocking the view from the streets. Damn, I knew I should have had those cut down, I think as I struggle to get this fool off me. I try to scream out for help but his hand is covering my mouth. AAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!! Oh my God! My robe is being ripped off, and now he is penetrating the shit out of me!! Never in a million years will I lay back and let somebody take my goodies. I am too strong. I start to swing, and he hits me in the face nonstop. The next thing I remember is waking up in the emergency room with lights shining in my face and the police officers were questioning me a million miles a New York minute. “I got fucking raped? Is that right? You all are questioning me? No, I don’t know what he looks like. No, I didn’t recognize his voice. Do I want a what? A morning-after pill? Hell no! Get that shit out of my face. I don’t make babies. That mean sperm probably couldn’t make it through anyways. He was black, yes, dark skinned. Why the hell do you keep implying that he has to be a certain race? Oh, you got somebody???? Well, then why don’t you just test the fucking sperm and see what you come up with? If it is him, give him the chair. That sorry muthafucka violated the shit out of me. I hate him. Do you hear me? He deserves to die. Anyway, when do I get to leave?” They asked me if I wanted to spend the night.
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“Hell no! I already missed work, and I ain’t ‘bout to miss another damn day’s pay. I need to get the hell outta here, and nobody is going to hold me back.” They told me they would have officers patrolling my neighborhood for the next week, and I thanked them. The officer took me back home and told me I should watch the times of day that I go outside. “Okay. Thanks. I will.” Sarcasm always works with smart people. They don’t even know they are receiving it. I don’t know why the hell it could be dangerous to go outside at eight in the morning. I guess freaks come out any time of day. My pussy was sore. It had been a long time since I had sex, and that sorry fucker fucked the shit out of me. I began to think about STDs. They said I didn’t test positive for any of that shit, but they want to test me again in a month. More than anything, I’m scared of having AIDS. What kind of sorry, heartless bastard does this kind of thing? I want to kill him personally. I call my friend Quariyah to see what’s up with her. Before the end of the conversation, I’d poured out my mind, body, and soul. She cries with me for several minutes. She has the best boyfriend in the world. His name is Andante. He’s so fine, sixfive, with a bigass chest, and—to let her tell it—he gives sex to die for. She knows I ain’t the type that would actually fuck her man, but damn, she still does divulge a lot of information. I can tell he’s kissing on her because her breathing pattern changes on the phone. Nasty fuckers!! I haven’t had good sex in a while. Who am I fooling? It’s hard to think about good sex after having been raped, but I had a man that gave good lovin’, and he was a cheater. I believe Andante is faithful. They are always together, and that is pretty awesome. Maybe if I had an Andante at my house to protect me, I wouldn’t have gotten raped. Oh, well, I don’t, so I did, so to hell with wishful thinking. I wonder if rape is in the genes. If I ever get my hands on that sorry bastard, he will die. I don’t care if I take his place in prison; I want to kill his ass. I called my sister next. She whines about how they aren’t going to give her any child support if she doesn’t cooperate with the
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DNA test. I ask her why she won’t get one, and she starts bitching about it, saying “He wasn’t talking that shit when we were screwing.” It takes me damn near an hour to talk Ciasia down from beating his ass to smacking his girlfriend. I realized there is no room for me to talk about my issue with her, so I get off the damn phone. I touch my head and then my chest, and then I begin sobbing and screaming. Somehow, I’m going to have to overcome this demon. Everyone has problems in their life, and I have never had any real big ones. I flipped through the phone book looking for counselors. I know I’m going to have to attack this issue now, before I really lose what’s left of my damn mind. I know some people who have gone crazy over way less. I called a few until I found one that seemed nice. “I can get you in next week,” the receptionist said. That was fine by me, because all the others said I’d have to wait a month or more, and I’m not sure I’ll make it that long. I have never felt this hopeless and out of control in my life, and I never want to again.
Help Me, God When I got to the counselor’s office, she welcomed me and helped me settle in. I jumped right in and told her my problem. I didn’t see any reason to go into my childhood and background. She asked me what kind of reactions I’d been having, and I told her about my anger issues. She tells me, “It’s normal to have those feelings. You should come back for a few more sessions to make sure there are no major setbacks. Of course, there were no guarantees, but if you talk through the thoughts and emotions you’re having, problems are less likely to occur.” She prescribed me some medication to help me relax, and then she sent me home. The meds are pretty sweet and simple, and it does make me feel a little better. She says, “This happened, and you cannot change it, so your only choice is to be strong, to accept it and deal with it however you can.” She tells me, “You cannot let it ruin you. It has happened to too many of sisters before you.” When she tells me I can be a role model if I stay strong, I believe her and realize I need more positive influences in my life. I decided to let my mom take me to church, and she was so happy about that. When the service was over I actually headed up to the altar for personal prayer. I surprised myself acting this way. I cried uncontrollably and over and over asked the Lord to help me. Everyone clapped for me and gave me hugs. They all know my mother very well, and they are very happy that at least one of her daughters has come to the church. I ain’t never been no heathen. I just never gave all this church and God stuff none of my time. Maybe the rape was my turnaround. I don’t know what I am going to do from this point on, but at this moment, I feel very close to the Lord. I really have nobody else to turn to now. I feel like nobody can relate. I did not want to be ruined or turned 10
out. I wonder if I am. I want to let the Lord have me to make sure it doesn’t happen. I go to the bathroom after church to clean up my face after all that crying. After I go in the stall and close the door. I hear a few of the other elders’ daughters come in the bathroom. I hear someone say, “That was so sad what happened to her. I wonder if she was set up.” Then they start talking about my sister. “She a ho,” one of them says. “She ain’t never gonna turn around. If we ever see her darkening the door of this place, the end is surely near.” They both laugh and slap high five. “Yeah,” the other one agrees. “She even dress her daughters like hoes and her son like a thug.” I’d had enough. I burst out the stall. Their mouths dropped and eyes got wide when they saw me. “You are some hypocritical bitches, and you got a lot of nerve standing in the bathroom talking about anyone. Maybe you the ones who shouldn’t be up in God’s house. If you’re so perfect, you’d be Jesus, and we’d be praising your asses, but we ain’t,” I say, glaring from one then the other. “I hope God forgives you and saves your sorry souls,” I added and I walked right out of there. I hope I made them feel as crazy as they looked and sounded. I really wanted to beat their asses, but I’d just had a breakthrough with the Lord. Besides, more than anything, I know hypocrites hate to be told about themselves ‘cause they rarely have the guts to talk about a person to their face. I wonder why that is. Oh well. Some things need to be left for the Higher Being in the sky. Meanwhile, I have my own demons to deal with. While I am pondering that, I’m sure those nasty bitch hypocrites will still be talking.
Hell Nawwww!!!! So I agree to accompany my sister to the clinic so she can get this DNA test done. When we get there, they tell her to fill out some paperwork, and then they swab her and her daughter’s mouth. “You’ll receive your results in a few weeks,” they tell her. When Ciasia asks about her child support, they answer, “The alleged father cannot be forced to pay anything until he is proven to be the father.” This upsets her, and she walks out the door with fury all over her face. When we get home, she grabs the cordless phone and runs in the room. That’s why I don’t want to have no children. Men don’t want to take responsibility or even stick around. A lot of them even leave marriages to act like no-account players. Hopefully, when I get married, I will have a nice, respectful husband who is responsible—if there is even such a damn thing. ***** Another day of work, and it seems to be busier than usual. My phone rings; my mother is calling. I finish turning in my order and go to the bathroom to call her back. She is screaming angry because the baby-daddy my sister took the DNA test with was not the father after all. I tell my mom, “Well, she must have been with multiple men at that time.” The truth makes her even angrier. “I’m sorry you’re so upset, but this ain’t no pretty little world with flowers growing in midair and damn fairies and unicorns covering everything in sugar.” She don’t like that either, but it’s the truth, and you’d think she’d recognize it by now. Speaking of truth, I have been feeling nauseous lately. Although I’m not feeling well, I have to get back to work. “I’ll be over later, mom. I have to get back to work,” I say before ending the call. Maybe this nausea will go away soon. Maybe all 12
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this drama is wearing on my immune system. I ain’t never been too good with drama. That lovey-dovey couple is in here again. They look like they wanna screw right on the table. Maybe I’m just horny. I need a man in my life, but I am not sure I can find one who is good for anything. ***** When I get over to my mom’s house, she tells me my sister is on the phone, so I sit down and try to calm her a little more. She keeps telling me she hates that she has a slut for a daughter. After about twenty more minutes of unsuccessfully trying to talk her down, I go into the living room. I turn on the TV, but there is nothing on worth watching, as usual. I want to call Quariyah. I pick up the phone and hear my sister’s voice; she’s still on it. I start to put the phone down, but then I overhear something that catches my ear. My sister is fussing at a man, saying the baby has to be his, and I hear the name Andante. Andante is my best friend’s man! I listen longer and hear him telling her that nobody can find out they have been together or it will ruin him. That bastard! She tells him she wants a DNA test, and he tells her he will secretly give her money if she just keeps it on the down-low that the baby is his. “How much?” my sister asks. “Name your price,” he replied nervously. “I want $400 a month.” “Okay. I can do that,” he said. “Just make sure you keep your mouth closed.” Then they hang up. I feel myself getting sick. I run into the bathroom and throw up all over the sink and toilet. There are some disgusting people in this world. If Andante is a cheater, that ruins it for all men. That’s it. There isn’t one man left on this planet capable of respecting a woman. When I sit down with my sister, of course she tells me she didn’t sleep with anyone besides that one man. Eeeeeewwwww, that nasty, lying-ass bitch! I can’t believe she is even related to
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me. She knows her real baby-daddy is my best friend’s man, and it’s killing me to act like I didn’t eavesdrop on that bullshit. I don’t know what I am going to do. I love Quariyah like a sister. I wonder what she would do in this situation. But blood is supposed to be thicker than water. I know my sister is a trifling whore, and now I have no problem admitting that. When I leave the house, I’m so queasy and disgusted. I don’t know how I am even going to face my friend again. When I get home, I just cry and cry some more. Tomorrow, I have to go to the doctor. What if I have AIDS? I have been ill a lot. Well, at least if I do, there’s a bright side. At least I’ll get to check out of this terrible world full of haters and players sooner rather than later.
Another Life When I arrive at the clinic the next morning, the nurse hands me a cup to pee in and directs me to the bathroom. It isn’t hard to piss because I have to go like a racehorse anyway. I put the cup full of yellowish urine in the little cubby, and they send me back out to the waiting room. I hate these charades, just sitting here, awaiting my doom. Is it AIDS or syphilis? What is my destiny? Okay, I have to stop. I am only torturing myself. When they call my name again, after what seems like hours, I go back to the examination room where they probe me and take blood samples from my arm. They tell me abruptly, “Congratulations! Your urine test came back positive.” Positive? Positive for what? I think. “You’re pregnant!” “WHAT!!!!?” “Ma’am, didn’t you know you were pregnant?” she asked. That automatically explains all the nausea, but I still can’t believe it. They give me a Pap smear and take more blood. Afterwards, they do an ultrasound on my stomach and tell me I am about a month along. “You are clean for all STDs,” they say, and they put a rush on my AIDS test because I am pregnant. They tell me I am negative for that too. When I walk out of the clinic, I just cry and cry for the millionth time this month. I can hardly believe what I just heard. Without any other hope, my backstabbing ass calls Quariyah to tell her about my dilemma. She tells me she’s coming over immediately. In record time, she is at my door. I keep repeating over and over, “I can’t believe I’m pregnant by a fucking rapist! My baby is going to be crazy. He or she isn’t going to be able to perform correctly in normal society.” Then again, who am I to
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clown, because who really does perform correctly? And what the hell is normal society anyway? She puts her arms around me to comfort me saying, “Everything is going to be okay.” In that moment of weakness, I almost tell her what I overheard between my sister and her man, but I remember again that blood is thicker than water. “What the hell am I going to do? Why is this happening? Should I have taken that morning-after pill?” I could have, but that would have been the death of my child. The next day, when I go to work, I see that damn happy ass couple again. They come here often, and this time, they have kids with them. I wonder if they are married. I will never ask, though, since it’s really none of my business. The little one looks like her. The older one looks kinda like him, but I don’t know. I wonder if she cheated and made him believe the babies were his. It has happened a lot of times before, and it will happen again. Anyway, I shouldn’t be speculating. I may just be hating because I am pregnant by a heartless bastard rapist. ***** I am now four months pregnant. They have just determined the sex of the baby, and it’s a girl!!!!!! I know right off that her name is Quareisha. That way, she will be named after me and my best friend, the girl who is sitting right beside me. She has been my backbone, and I really need to tell her about the bastard she’s dating, who she thinks is so great. I don’t know when I should break the news to her, but the sooner the better. I’m sure she’ll understand why I waited. After all, it’s scary betraying my sister— something I have to work my way up to. But for now, we’ll just enjoy this moment. We are on the way to my job. I decide I am going to have a shake, and Quariyah is going to get whatever she wants. I hate that I can’t drink liquor because these trying times have been very difficult for me, and a stiff one would do me some good. Oh well. I am going to let my girl get piss-ass drunk today because we just found out the sex of her niece—not
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her blood niece, of course, but that trifling whore of a sister I have ain’t somebody I really want to speak to. I didn’t realize until now how totally separate my sister and my lives are. She barely seems to care about my life at all. But I guess the question is: Do I really even care about hers? Hmm. I have to think about that.
Discussion Questions What would you do in Kiesha's situation? If your sister was pregnant by your best friend's man would you tell your best friend? After being raped, would there be ANYTHING at all that could make you forgive the perpetrator? After reading the way that Quariyah reacted to Andante leaving her and preparing to marry another woman, how far would you say is too far to go for revenge as a woman scorned? What is your reaction to the style of Ciasia's parenting? What suggestions would you give to make her children's issues go a lot smoother? After reading about the plight of many of the women in this story, what length would you go to keep a man that you love?
Candy is available for vlog/blog interviews and book discussions online and locally. To reach Candy Rayne: The email address is aspivey0007@yahoo.com . My telephone number is 228 249 4708.
Also Checkout Candy’s other novel: Concrete Rose Lankenua is a teenage girl who was brought to the United States by her parents along with the boy that she was betrothed to marry. The boy's parents were to give her parents two million dollars upon them marrying, so that Lankenua's parents could expand her mother's business. However, when Lankenua becomes interested in another young man that she meets at her school, and while working in the shop, her whole world flips upside down. Now Lankenua has some important decisions to make. Will she follow through with tradition and marry the man she is betrothed to marry or will she adapt to her new life in the United States and push the principles and values of her homeland aside?
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