Prologue
"He might be doing you, but he's thinkin' about me. So, baby, think about another lover, and go find another brother,"Maple sang at the top of her lungs. "I know he's my man, he's all in my hands. It feels good when he calls my name,"she cooed, using her free hand to caress the nape of her neck.
Ten-year-old Tyler sat in the back seat watching her mother through the rearview mirror. She didn't fully understand the lyrics, but she loved hearing her mother sing. Tyler swore her mother's voice belonged on popular radio stations and Disney soundtracks. She deserved Grammys and Oscars instead of heartache and pain. Maple's voice was full of passion and she held a perfect pitch with the right amount of raspiness. Maple's voice soothed Tyler through sickness and had her dancing around the kitchen on good days.
Then there were nights like this where her voice hit a little differently. The songs were sadder, and her voice was full of exhaustion and desperation. It was three in the morning, and Maple was swerving in and out of lanes with tears streaming down her face and a smile on her lips. Tyler was used to her mother's disheveled state because it happened every time herfather left. The high that Maple felt while he was there vanished the second he walked out the door. In his presence, she walked around singing about being in love and living happily ever after, but the moment he left, she picked up a bottle of liquor to drown her sorrows and switched the music to reflect her true feelings.
"Ty baby," Maple slurred, wiping the tears that streamed down her face. "Listen to your mommy." She cut down the music.
"Ok." Tyler sat up in the back seat, giving Maple her full attention.
"When you grow up, I want you to be the best version of you there is. You hold your head up and take charge of every situation because you don't need a living soul to do shit for you. You're special baby girl and the world takes advantage of special people. Never allow a man to play with your head. Always listen to your first mind and never," she paused, taking a sip of the liquor that now tasted like water. "Never stay down if you fall. Get your ass back up and swing harder than the first time." Maple wiped the tears that cascaded down her cheeks. "Promise Mommy."
"I promise," Tyler swore through the rear-view mirror.
"My girl." Maple winked, taking another sip of her drink.
Tyler didn't fully comprehend what those words meant, but they had to mean something. The shakiness of her mother's voice and quivering of her lips said it meant something, if not everything. Before Tyler could ask any more questions, Maple cut the radio back up and resumed her in-car concert, leaving Tyler to ponder on her words. She didn't know anything about love other than what she felt for her parents and her best friend, Shane. If there was a different type of love, Tyler didn't want it.She didn't want to be sad, nor did she want to cry herself to sleep at night.
"Sitting here, wondering why you don't love me, the way that I love you,"Maple hummed, whipping into a driveway that didn't belong to her. A driveway she had been forbidden to ever visit, but love drove her to it. Love had her foolishly outside of a married man's house because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants, and she couldn't keep her heart from between her thighs. Love and good dick had her breaking all rules and disregarding everything she'd been taught.
"Um, Mommy, why are we here?" Tyler asked, noticing her father's car in the driveway of the big brick house.
The house was beautifully equipped with a garden, something like the one her mother raved about. A swing on the front porch, kinda like the one her father promised them, but they stayed in the projects, and the stoop was barely big enough for a fold-up chair, let alone a porch swing. The house Tyler stared at was the same house her father had promised to her mother. In fact, he had made a lot of promises, empty promises that he never kept. Promises that Maple never made him stand on.
"I need to talk to your father and he's not answering my calls," Maple slurred. "Don't get out of the car."
"But Mommy-
"Tyler, do not get out of the damn car!"
"Ok." Tyler sunk down in her seat, feeling a ball of uneasiness form in the pit of her stomach.
Maple took one last look at her baby girl and exited the car with the bottle of liquor attached to her hand. She felt bad for putting her in this fucked up predicament, and it was selfish ofher to expose Tyler to the other side of the toxic relationship she shared with her father, but desperate times called for desperate measures. At this point, Maple's desperation had bubbled over. She needed to see his face, to hear his voice, to feel his touch. Maple needed love and reassurance and she only wanted it from him.
On wobbly legs, Maple walked up the driveway while humming the lyrics to another sad Mary J. Blige song. She was a little off-key and completely off-balance, but she felt good. The liquor she consumed gave her the courage she'd normally shy away from. Maple was never the pull up and start shit kinda girl. She played her part, and most of the time that was enough, but tonight was different. Maple was triggered and she wanted answers. She wasn't leaving without them. She wasn't leaving without him. Tyrell was her man too, and it was her turn.
"Tyrell!" she hollered at the top of her lungs. "Bring your lying, no good ass out here." Maple staggered to the door. Opening the screen door, she used her foot to kick the big wooden door like she was with the FEDS. She gripped the sides of the door and used her Timberland boots to disrupt the peace.
"It’s your little project bitch, your hood rat bitch, the one that bend over at your request and take all that dick,” she rapped and then giggled to herself. “Ayeeee, cause I wobble wit’ it, nothing like that fake stiff bitch you layin’ wit’.”
Tyler sat up in her seat, giggling at the performance her mother was putting on. It wasn’t supposed to be funny, but seeing Maple backing it up on the big wooden door tickled her.
“Tyrellll,” Maple sang. “You better wake up before someone calls the Neighborhood Watch. I know this gotta be against yall community guidelines.”
Tyler leaned forward when the porch light flicked on. Maple stopped talking and perched her hand on her thick hip. She knew he’d be mad, but shit, she was mad. She was hurt and she was ready for war.
“Are you fucking serious?” Tyrell snatched the door open, causing Maple to stumble back, nearly falling into the perfectly sculpted rose bushes. Tyrell reached out and grabbed the collar of her nightgown, saving her from falling in the garden of thorns.
“Are you fucking serious?” she mocked, finding the vein popping out the side of his neck sexy. Even when he looked like he wanted to rip her head from her shoulders, he still looked like the man of her dreams.
Tyrell’s six-foot-four frame towered over her, sporting a mean mug that made her insides tingle with excitement. His tapered cut and line-up were shaped to perfection. His thin mustache connected to his beard, defining his full lips. Tyrell’s smooth cashew colored skin was slightly red because he was pissed off, but nonetheless, he was still fine.
From the dip in his eyebrows, Maple knew Tyrell was pissed, but she was too drunk to care. She was too hurt to consider the trouble that would come with crossing the blurry lines he created. Pulling up to his house was breaking all the rules, and she’d do it again to get her point across.
“Maple, you’re drunk. Go home and I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
“No! You were supposed to come see me a week ago! You dropped me off at the abortion clinic and swore you were coming back. It’s been a week,” Maple fussed. “And you know what, I should be used to it. This was baby number five, so I should be accustomed to spreading my legs and allowing a doctor to suck your babies out of me. I should be used to the lying, crying, andmaking up game, but I’m not!” She weakly slapped his chest. “I’m tired of this shit, Tyrell. We deserve more. What happened to my house? My new car? My happy fucking life, Tyrell!”
