Grown(60)

Y’all talking about some imaginary sex dungeon that no one has ever seen.

So the girls word are not enough? Why don’t people EVER believe women?

Why didn’t she just leave?

She was being brainwashed.

Brainwashed? That’s bullshit.

You never heard of a cult? Were you born yesterday?

FAKE NEWS!



* * *



Yo, Malcolm X said it best. “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.”



* * *





Chapter 76


The Other Woman




Korey’s wife . . . isn’t what you’d expect.

She’s a short, bite-size, petite woman. So short, they have to adjust the mic at the podium during the televised press conference. She’s fair skinned with bright hazel eyes, dressed in black pants and a modest knit sweater. None of this really surprises me. It’s her auburn pixie cut that gives me pause.

I think of Melissa and the way she made my scalp itch. The way she stuck to my sticky lip gloss whenever I turned my head. The way I glued her to my forehead, used a toothbrush to lay down her edges with gel. One hair out of place would enrage Korey.

Korey liked women with long hair. This woman couldn’t possibly be his wife.

But, through tears, she steps to the mic with the help of Tony, reading off a printed piece of paper.

“I typically wouldn’t address the press. I always let my husband take all the shine. But he’s gone. Someone took him from us in a senseless, cruel act of violence.”

She looks directly at me through the TV, speaking like a Broadway actress, voice projecting . . . just like Korey taught me. My spine stiffens, and I glance across the living room.

“Did you know he was married?”

Louie stares at the TV, frowning. “Nah. Apparently, no one knew. Just people in his close circle. I’ve never seen her before in my life. Yo, should you be watching this?”

I nod. I needed to see her. I needed to see the other woman.

Cameras click, sounding like a forest of bugs. There’s a dramatic pause as she tilts her chin up, blinking back tears.

“Korey was a loving, devoted, faithful husband. A brilliant songwriter and singer. A living legend and philanthropist. These . . . disgusting allegations against him are inexcusable, especially when he is unable to defend himself. There are people trying to sully his good name when all he ever did was love his fans voraciously.”

“What allegations?” I ask Louie. “What is she talking about?”

“Some women are coming forward, claiming they were abused by Korey.” Louie looks at me. “I say that to say, you weren’t alone.”

This doesn’t make me feel better. Only angrier.

“We look forward to when justice will finally be served, and the real monster will be behind bars for good.”

She thinks I’m a monster yet knows Korey. Intimately. We lived in that house for months, touring for weeks. I never saw her, not even once. How could she not have known?

As Korey’s wife wraps up the press conference, I peep Jessica in the shadows. Cheeks sunken, dark glasses, black suit, her mouth a crooked scribble of a line. Even after everything, I feel kind of bad for her. Korey was the earth she rotated around daily. Now, he’s gone and she’s lost in deep space.

It’s what I’ve felt daily. Except I’m floating in the ocean, farther and farther away from the shore that is supposed to ground me.

That’s when it sinks in—Korey’s really gone. A rough lump the shape of coral lodges in my throat.

“Excuse me,” I whimper and race to the bathroom, chest caving in.

How can he be dead? We were supposed to sing together forever. He loved me, with a heart too big for his body so it leaked into his lungs, giving him a voice dripping with honey. Who sang with passion and made everyone believe they could be anything. Now the world will never hear his voice again.

Shouldn’t I be happy? Relieved instead of torn and crumbling at the idea that the only love I’ve ever known was also my greatest torturer?

Love is complicated, he would say. But love shouldn’t hurt. And deep down, I know I went to his apartment that night hoping he’d change. I was always hoping he’d change. But you can’t hope or wish someone to be anyone that they’re not.

My phone buzzes. Another unknown number and I’m tempted to answer, listen to the same woman threatening to kill me. I deserve it.

A news anchor cuts through my thoughts.

“And we have exclusive footage obtained of the suspect’s father, Terry Jones, seen outside Korey Fields’s apartment the night of the murder.”

I rip the door open. “Wait, what?”

Louie is on his feet, turning up the volume. The video is blurry, black and white, taken from a distance, outside Korey’s building. But there’s Daddy, storming inside the building, at eleven thirty p.m.

“Whoa,” Louie mumbles. “Where the hell is he going?”





Chapter 77


The Real Hero




The more time goes on, the more I see what Daddy went through while I was gone and how his quiet suffering wasn’t so silent after all.