Femme Noir Read Free Page A

called each one and no one told me anything until the last one. I had developed a thin ruse to explain my call. The woman who answered sounded like she had been crying.
    “You want to speak to Michelle? Who are you? What do you want?”
    “I’m a…friend. I have some money for her. Can you tell me where she is?”
    “You’re a friend and you don’t know she’s dead?” The woman began crying softly. “Killed. Shot in the head. Oh, Lord have mercy, my baby—”
    I hung up without a word.
    Tonya took me into her house and gently into her arms.
    The next day, I played hoops for ten hours. If I wasn’t joining pick-up games, I played by myself or sat under a tree staring into space. I played in the old outdoor lots with battered chain link fences and broken asphalt. I needed to be close to something urban and ugly. The squeaky-clean beautiful hardwood floors and pristine outdoor courts of my college were repellant to me now. I played until Tonya came for me on her way home from work. Tonya gently pried my numb hands off the ball and pushed me into the car. I passed out into sleep on the way home. Tonya woke me gently and boosted me into the house, tucking me into bed without dinner. I slept, not moving, until dawn when I reached for Tonya. I drowsily sucked Tonya’s luscious black nipples into erect bullets. Tonya groaned sleepily and shifted her big hips up to meet my slow, firm stroke. With my eyes closed, I grinned as I felt Tonya’s legs spread wide and smooth the sheets in an arc. I tenderly cupped Tonya’s body close as she arched her back. Barely conscious, I nuzzled Tonya’s throat and she curled her heavy body around me and relaxed into a long, deep orgasm. I loved the feel of Tonya’s wide hips and belly roll. That’s the way all women should be. Ample and voluptuous and able to fuck for hours. Tonya was still undulating with pleasure as I kissed her brow. When Tonya finally lay limp, I moved to her slippery cunt and took her swollen clit in my mouth. She gasped and her eyes flew open.
    “Mornin’, sunshine,” I said to her glistening pussy. “We’re just getting started.”
    Two hours later, Tonya’s alarm clock woke us from a sleep-glutted sex haze. I realized how sore and exhausted I was. With the bright light of day, my catatonia returned and I went back and played basketball for another twelve hours. By the time Tonya came to get me, I felt a little clearer, somewhat steadier. Tonya tried to talk me out of leaving and going to Tulsa, tried to get me to stay with her longer and think things over, but I was resolute.
    My face and attitude would’ve been recognized by my team as absolutely nonnegotiable. I had carefully and patiently built four dream teams over the last fifteen years and sent many a talented and ambitious player to a good career. I groomed my players for championships and they never disappointed me. My Panthers were a West Coast phenomenon and years ago, I had been famous as a powerhouse player myself. Some reporter started calling me the Pat Summitt of Los Angeles and it caught on. I was waiting for the day that Pat Summitt would be called the Nora Delaney of Tennessee.
    I inherited my determination from my beloved grandmother, who passed it to my mother and then to me, just like the gold Ugandan coin on a chain I had inherited from them. That coin was as much a part of me as my fingerprints, and I had nearly been hospitalized when I lost it.
    My grama, white-haired but still a tall, majestic queen, had told me the simple story of the coin when I was a child.
    “You see, our ancestors were royalty. We used to wear brilliant robes and great crowns. We were the rulers of the cradle of civilization. You are a descendent of the Acholi Tribe in Uganda.” Grama paused to let that sink in. I listened with all of my ten-year-old heart.
    “And when a war came, a princess saw a hard future ahead and sewed gold coins into her dress so that she might sweeten her fate. Chaos and cruelty