Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Twenty-eight year old Nia Johnson is the most talented graphic designer in the midwest, and her racist, chauvinistic boss knows this but still treats her like a runaway slave. She has the sexiest hustla around the way along with the tightest family. So why has Nia took the 5th amendment and ran to the abortion clinic once she realized she conceived a child out of a vicious rape? Her and her rapist have become closer than she wanted. Each night she is reminded by this; however, she eventually realizes that these are no dreams, she actually is watching him do the same thing to other women who resemble her! Coincidentally he ends up being her supervisor years later. All bets are up. Who can eliminate whose family first?
Originally she wanted to run only for a half an hour, but that quickly turned into a hour and a half. She stopped right at the entrance to the exclusive neighborhood to catch her breath. Her body collapsed against the metal fence. The coolness from it felt good against her skin. She closed her eyes while the sweat on her face dried up. A ringing from a phone jolted Nia back to the present. Her neck snapped left to right as she tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. A few feet from where she was standing an indigo blue Mazarati was parked. The driver’s side window was rolled down enough for Nia to see the forehead to what appeared to be a white person. She was not sure if it was a man or a woman. Bryan’s threatening words screamed out in her head.
“Hello?!” His breathing became rapid.
“Hi honey. Did I interrupt something, you sound irritated?”
His eyes stayed glued to Nia’s firm body leaning up against the gate. “I’m busy. What do you want?!” His jaws tightened making his back teeth grind against each other.
“Just wanted to know when you’re coming back home to Atlanta?”
“We’ve already discussed this! My flight leaves in two hours!” His eyes left his prize possession for a second. Next time he looked at her, she was diagonal to his car. He slouched down farther into his leather seat. The presidential tinting on his Mazarati prevented anyone, especially her from seeing him.
“I can’t wait to see you. I bought…”
“Whatever! Listen I gotta go!” She was gone out of his sight now. He threw his Blackberry causing it to break into pieces against the dashboard. His neck popped as his head swerved around trying to get a glimpse of her again. The only thing that was left of her was a trace of her vanilla scent. He almost let the window down to get more of her scent but pushed that idea out of his head quick. He did not want anyone to notice him. He already slipped by letting his window down just a little. Another quick glance was stolen before his Mazarati purred to life. His fingers punched in the three digit code that he easily got from tapping into the Neighborhood Association’s database. The white gates opened up slowly in front of him. His patience made him push down on the accelerator. The car barely missed getting its paint scraped off the sides as the speedometer pushed 60 mph in two seconds. His screeching tires headed toward the airport.