Zane's the Heat Seekers
“Well, Kensington, there are other options we can explore. You don’t have to raise this baby.”
Kensington bit her bottom lip. “I know, ma’am.”
“But you want to raise the child? Is that it?”
“I don’t know!” Kensington burst out, showing symptoms of the frustration Tempest was all too familiar with, which immediately put Tempest more at ease. She was used to the outbursts; it was the quiet ones that made her nervous. “I’m confused! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”
No one ever does, Tempest said silently to herself. “Everyone makes mistakes, Kensington. Don’t beat yourself up because of it.”
Kensington started crying. Tempest got up and walked around the desk, grabbing three tissues out of the dispenser on her way. She handed them to Kensington and then rubbed the girl’s shoulders.
“What about the baby’s father? Is he still in the picture?”
Kensington shook her head in disgust. “Jeremy’s with Chantel now. I hate her. I hate both of them.”
“It says you’re a straight-A student in your folder.”
That perked Kensington up. She blew her nose, sat up straighter, and even cracked a slight smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Tempest grinned. “Any plans for college?”
“Mr. Casey, my counselor, said I have a good chance of getting a full scholarship if I keep my grades up. I’d be the first one in my family to get a college degree.”
“That’s wonderful!” Tempest exclaimed, glad to see that Kensington was goal-oriented. That was a good sign.
The mood changed quickly when Kensington looked down and rubbed her belly. She was showing big-time. “But that was before—”
Tempest let go of Kensington’s shoulders and sat on the corner of the desk so she could face her. “What about your mother? How does she feel about this?”
Kensington started crying again. Tempest handed her some more tissue. “She says I’m no good. That I should’ve kept my legs closed. That I’m nothing but a tramp.” Kensington gazed at Tempest helplessly. “Jeremy’s the first boy I slept with. I swear it.”
“Would you like for me to call your mother? Maybe I can reason with her.”
“Please don’t do that, ma’am,” Kensington pleaded. Tempest saw fear written all over her face. Damn, when would parents learn to comfort their kids when they make mistakes, not crucify them? “I just needed somebody to talk to. My mother doesn’t understand me.”
“Well, I’m your woman,” Tempest proclaimed, forcing a smile. “You can talk to me about anything.”
Kensington fell silent for a few moments, and Tempest pretended to busy herself with odds and ends around her desk. She’d extended the invitation to Kensington to discuss any matter, and she hoped she would take her up on the offer; there was more than just the pregnancy bothering her, she was sure.
Kensington finally spoke. “There is one thing I’d like to know, ma’am.”
“What’s that?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Like I said before, you can ask me anything,” Tempest replied eagerly. Helping young girls was what made her life so fulfilling. “What would you like to know?”
“Ma’am, if my mother hits me, and I call the police, what will happen to her?”
Tempest crumbled up the piece of paper she was holding in her left hand, her way of venting her anger without showing it on her facial expression. When a child brought up abuse, any form of abuse, Tempest immediately wanted to hunt the culprit down and open a can of whup-ass.
Kensington stared at Tempest, awaiting a reply. Tempest exhaled and answered, “Has your mother ever hit you, Kensington?”
“Maybe,” Kensington whispered, lowering her eyes to the floor. “Maybe not.”
“I see.” Tempest knew the child was scared to death.
“I’m just saying, what would happen to her if she did and I told someone?”
Tempest decided to come clean, even though she knew it would bring about a less-than-desirable reaction. “The Department of Social Services would investigate, and depending on the results of the investigation, they might press charges or place you in a foster home or both.”
“A foster home!” Kensington exclaimed, jumping up out of the chair, startling Tempest. “That means I would have to live with strangers?”
“Temporarily. At least until the matter could be resolved by a court.”
Kensington slowly sat back down in the chair, trying to regain some composure. “Thanks for answering the question.”
“You’re very welcome.” Tempest got up from her desk to open a window. The office was getting stuffy. When she sat back down on the edge of the desk, she asked, “Kensington, are you sure there’s not something you’d like to tell me?”
“I’m positive,” Kensington responded, flashing a phony smile. “I’m just scared about this pregnancy and all.”
“Don’t be afraid, Kensington.” Tempest held out her hand, and Kensington took it. Tempest rubbed Kensington’s knuckles with her free hand. “You’ll find nothing but friends here at the center.”
Kensington gazed into Tempest’s eyes. “I feel like I have a new friend already.”
“You do.” Tempest grinned. “You do.”
Tempest spent another thirty minutes alone in her office with Kensington until the girl felt comfortable enough to tour the center and meet the others. There was a group session going on, and surprisingly, Kensington jumped right into the conversation with the rest of the expectant mothers. While Tempest had nothing but compassion for all the girls at the center, Kensington claimed a special place in her heart immediately—probably because she reminded Tempest so much of herself.
• • •
Over the next several weeks, Tempest and Kensington became very close. Tempest took Kensington shopping for maternity clothes but told her to keep it a secret from the other girls down at the center. She’d never taken such an interest in a pregnant teen before, and she didn’t want the other girls to be envious.
Tempest also helped Kensington with her schoolwork and discussed possible college scholarships with her, even though college was still years down the road. Janessa and Geren both took a liking to Kensington right off the bat as well. Dvontè was missing in action except for during booty-call hours as usual. Geren even offered to teach Kensington how to Rollerblade once she had the baby. Tempest said she would watch from the sidelines; one busted ass bone in a year was enough for her.
After much prodding, Kensington finally broke down and admitted to Tempest that her mother had been beating her on and off, even during the pregnancy. Tempest immediately handled the situation, deciding to pay Kensington’s mother, Pauline Sparks, a home visit the sistah would never forget.
• • •
“Ms. Sparks?” Tempest asked, rapping lightly on the open door of the small apartment. There were two women in the kitchen area, one propped up on a stool while the other one stood behind her, braiding her hair. Tempest instantly knew the one standing was Pauline Sparks; Kensington was her spitting image. “Ms. Sparks, my name’s Tempest Vaughn. I’m a friend of your daughter’s. I’m the director of the—”
“I know who the fuck you are! I’m surprised I didn’t smell your prissy ass coming a mile away!” Pauline Sparks hissed at her. Her friend started laughing. Pauline snatched her head back, causing her to shriek out in pain. “Kensington’s not here. She’s in school.”
“Actually, I came to see you,” Tempest said, entering the apartment uninvited. She walked over to the kitchenette and reached out her hand. Pauline refused to shake it, rolling her eyes and continuing to work on a thick braid instead. “I was hoping we could discuss Kensington’s pregnancy. Among other things.”
“What the fuck is there to discuss?” Pauline asked with an edge of sarcasm in her voice. Tempest picked up a whiff of beer on her breath. “The little hoe got knocked up. End of story.”
The woman on the stool started cackling again. Temp
est wanted to go upside both of their heads but willed herself not to. She headed over to a sofa in the middle of the living room and pointed to it. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Help yourself.” Pauline flung her head in Tempest’s direction, looking her over from head to toe. “Excuse me if our furniture isn’t as fancy as that to which you are accustomed.”
Tempest sat down on the tattered sofa with weak springs and immediately grew concerned. It was the same sofa Kensington had to sleep on every night, and it definitely didn’t have enough support for her back, especially in her condition. She noticed Divorce Court was on TV and then looked back over at Pauline, trying to establish eye contact. “Can we talk?”
Pauline rolled her eyes at Tempest again. “We are talking.”
“I mean alone.” Tempest diverted her eyes to the sistah on the stool, who was so large that she almost needed two of them. “Can I speak with you in private?”
Pauline seemed to ponder the request for a few seconds. “Dawna, let me see what Miss Thang wants right quick.” She hit the sistah on the stool lightly on the back, pushing her up off the stool. “Why don’t you go down to the corner store and get us another pack of beer?”
“With my hair lookin’ like this?” Dawna asked, staring at Pauline like she’d lost her mind. Only half of her hair was finished. The other half looked like she’d just lost a wrestling match. “No fuckin’ way!”
“Aw, come on, it’s my treat.” Pauline reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a ten-dollar bill.
“What? Your treat?” Dawna asked, smacking her lips and putting her hands on her rotund hips. “Must be snowing in hell today.”
Pauline plucked Dawna on her chunky arm. “Bite me, bitch!”
Dawna smacked her lips one more time for effect, rolled her eyes at Tempest, and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back, heifer!”
“So what’s so damn important that I had to kick my homegurl out the crib and spring for a pack of beer?” Pauline asked, once Dawna was out of their line of vision. “It’s not like Dawna doesn’t know Kensington spread her legs one time too often. She’s showing big-time. Her ass better not be having twins either. I can tell you that much right now.”
“You know what, Ms. Sparks?” Tempest asked from the sofa, feeling herself getting even more hot under the collar than she was before she came over there. “Pauline, rather. Can I call you Pauline?” Pauline shrugged her shoulders, giving Tempest a look of disdain. “I came over here with the intention of having a nice, warm, civilized chat with you, but—”
Pauline plopped down on the stool, taking Dawna’s place. “But what, Miss Thang?”
“I can see that’s not going to happen, so let’s just throw tact and everything else that comes with it out the damn window.”
“Damn, Miss Thang said ‘damn’!” Pauline exclaimed.
Tempest jumped up off the couch and walked over to the stool. She’d had enough of the Miss Thang comment. “Oh, I got your Miss Thang, aiight!” Tempest shouted, poking Pauline in the shoulder blade with her index finger.
Pauline appeared stunned that Tempest would step to her in such a fashion. “I know you’re not even trying to break bad with me. You better take your fancy ass up out of here before things get ugly. This is the hood, and we don’t play that shit.”
Tempest threw her head back and chuckled. She wasn’t hardly impressed. “First of all, this situation has already turned ugly. Second of all, I’m not going any damn place until I speak my mind, and thirdly, I grew up in the hood, and I don’t play that shit either. You can’t intimidate me, bitch.”
Pauline leaped up off the stool and tried to increase the distance between them by grabbing Tempest’s arm and pushing her backward. “Bitch? Who the hell do you—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Tempest yelled, standing her ground. Pauline was taller than her, just like Kensington, but she didn’t care. She would kick off her shoes and take off her earrings if need be. “Look, I’m just gonna throw the shit right on out there. Enough bullshittin’.”
“Well, throw the shit on out there then,” Pauline spewed back at her, saliva flying out of her mouth as she spoke.
Tempest stared at her dead in the eyes. “I know you’ve been beating Kensington.”
“I haven’t touched that child!” Pauline exclaimed, giving Tempest that no-you-didn’t-even-go-there expression. “She’s my baby girl! How dare you accuse me of—”
Tempest circled around Pauline and sat down on the stool. She refused to engage in some silly Mexican standoff. She noticed a roach crawling out of a dirty cereal bowl that looked as if it had been sitting in the same spot for more than a week. “Save your pathetic lies. I know you’ve been hittin’ her, and the only reason I came knocking on your door instead of Social Services and the police is because Kensington begged me not to call them. She’s afraid they’ll make her a ward of the state and place her in foster care.”
Pauline leaned against the counter and crossed her arms across her chest. “So why the hell did she tell you, then?”
“Oh, so you’re admitting it?” Tempest asked with contempt.
“Let’s get something straight right now.” Tempest perceived something in Pauline’s eyes right at that moment, something resembling love and compassion. Pauline must have sensed Tempest reading her mind; she lowered her eyes to the floor. “I’ve never beaten Kensington, as you put it. I may have slapped her around a time or two when she wasn’t listening, but that’s my damn business. I gave birth to her, gave up my own childhood for her, and I can do whatever the hell I want.”
It was then that Tempest noticed how young Pauline Sparks really was. While she had signs of age, probably due to acute alcoholism, it was still obvious the woman wasn’t a day over thirty. Tempest did a quick calculation in her brain and gauged that Pauline must have had Kensington when she was about fourteen or fifteen, the same age range as Kensington. She was about to try to reason with her but decided she needed to continue to take the hard approach, whether the woman was young or not. Abuse was abuse and inexcusable. “No, you can’t do whatever the hell you want.”
Pauline looked like she was about to spit fire, she was so angry. She stomped over to the door and swung it open wider. “Get out of my house!”
“Fine, I’m leaving, but let me make myself perfectly clear before I do.” Tempest adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder, stood and walked over to her, getting as far up in Pauline’s grill as she could stand without being nauseated by her breath. “If you ever lay another hand on Kensington, pregnant or not pregnant, I will call the police.”
“No, you won’t.” Pauline giggled. “You already said Kensington’s afraid they’ll take her away. The last thing she wants is to leave up from around here.”
“Oh, I will call. You can bank on that.” Tempest hadn’t even thought that far ahead, so she was improvising. She had hoped to reason with Kensington’s mother, but things weren’t going too well. “Not only that, but I’ll also file for temporary custody of Kensington myself.”
“Bullshit!” Pauline hissed at her, rubbing one of her bloodshot eyes.
“I’m not a foster parent, but I’m sure if I file expedited papers, they’ll go through, and I’ll take her from you,” Tempest stated with conviction. “Raise her myself if I have to.”
“Kensington’s overreacting.” Pauline, realizing the sistah just might be serious about taking her daughter away, was going on the defensive. “So I slapped her for being lazy or not doing the dishes. Big fuckin’ deal. My mother used to beat my ass all the time.”
“Well, that’s probably part of the problem. Are you proud of what you’re doing to her?” Tempest spotted a tear in the corner of Pauline’s right eye, but Pauline wiped away the evidence quickly. Deducing that Pauline wasn’t as hard as she pretended to be, Tempest reached over and gently caressed her cheek, pleading to Pauline with her eyes. “Kensington has a real shot at making something of herself. She has a bright future a
head of her. Don’t make this a vicious cycle.”
“Everything okay in here?” Dawna asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Tempest replied. Neither she nor Pauline had noticed Dawna standing in the doorway, holding a paper bag full of their afternoon sustenance. Tempest spotted some pork rinds sticking out of the top of the bag and figured it must be their lunch. “I was just leaving.”
Dawna put the bag down on the kitchen counter, eyed the same roach Tempest had seen earlier, picked up a copy of Jet magazine, and slammed the hell out of it until nothing was left but a carcass.
Pauline walked back over to the kitchen makeshift beauty parlor and busied herself by cleaning out a brush with a comb.
Tempest glared at her from across the room. Pauline glared back. “Remember what I said. Don’t ever let it happen again, or I’ll take Kensington, and then you better pray you never run up on me in a dark alley.”
Dawna ripped open the bag of pork rinds and started shoveling them into her mouth, enthralled by the conversation like she was watching her favorite soap. She was hoping Pauline wouldn’t be in too fucked-up a mood to finish her hair; she was planning to go to the male strip show at the Black Screw that night.
Pauline laughed, trying to save some face even though she was beginning to get scared. The sistah, fancy clothes and all, really was from the hood, and definitely didn’t play that shit. She could tell that much. “Are you threatening me?”
“Don’t let it happen again, or you’ll feel my wrath.” Tempest stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door behind her.
“Damn, do you do this shit with the parents of all the girls down at the center?” Pauline yelled out through the door.
Tempest started crying before she hit the parking lot, and she cried all the way home.
CHAPTER 16
a lovers’ christmas
“wow, sweetheart!” Geren exclaimed, checking out the number of hat-and-glove sets Tempest was tossing into their shopping cart at Kmart. “How many of those are you planning on getting?”