Status s-1 Read online

  Status

  ( Status - 1 )

  Jordan Belcher

  In social media, nothing is what it seems…

  Tyesha Fenty is a beautiful 22-year-old mother of one very precocious little girl-and an unashamed internet addict. Between taking care of her daughter and posting updates about her life via the Web, Tyesha stresses over love and family. The father of her child is a spiritually devout drug dealer named Rodrick Al-Bashir who has a thing for other women. And her mother, Velma Fenty, is a widowed hoarder on the verge of losing her house.

  Stalking is the least of Tyesha’s worries, until one of her social media “friends” starts showing up at her gym, at her job, and at her home. Soon tragedy strikes, and when detectives catch her stalker—and just as quickly release him—Tyesha is forced to take matters into her own hands.

  Be careful what you post… he’s watching…

  STATUS

  By

  Jordan Belcher

  CHAPTER 1

  With the tap of her thumb, Quita Wheeler loaded up one of her favorite websites, a social media page called The Site. She scanned through her news feed until she saw a status update that brought a huge smile to her face.

  “Rodrick!” she called out from her bed.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Rodrick! Come here! Look at this!”

  He still didn’t respond, so she threw the covers back and scurried through her apartment in the nude. She found him in the living room on his knees, facing the window. He wasn’t fully dressed either. All he’d thrown on was his 501 Levi denims, and they were a little baggy, exposing the top of his butt crack. The first time she saw him in this position she thought he was sick. But she knew now that he was praying. And she knew not to interrupt him. He had grabbed her by the throat and cursed her out the last time she did that.

  “Amen,” he finished, standing up.

  “Why do you always do that?” Quita asked him.

  “Do what? Pray?”

  “Yeah. Every time after we have sex, you come in here and pray. Why?”

  “Because I’ve sinned.”

  Quita followed him as he walked back into the bedroom and got his clothes on. He was one of the handsomest men she had ever slept with. She didn’t just think he was handsome because he had money either. His arms had hints of muscle, but his gut was semi-small and beetled; he was beautifully flawed. From the amount of time he’d spent behind bars, she expected him to be covered in prison tats. But he had not a one. He shook his neatly done dreads after he slipped on his T-shirt. Then he capped his dreads with a Louis Vuitton beanie hat.

  “What did I tell you about interrupting my prayer?”

  Her eyes shifted nervously. “I thought you were in the bathroom. I didn’t know you were praying.”

  “But you just said you knew that after every time we have sex, I pray. Why would this time be any different?”

  “I… my mind wasn’t—” she stammered. “I’m sorry, Rodrick.”

  “So what was so important?”

  “This.” She handed him her phone. “I thought you were playing when you said you loved me. But this confirms it. You would rather be here with me than over there.”

  Rodrick’s eyes flicked back and forth as he read the sentences on her small screen. Then he suddenly thrust the phone back to her and shoved her out his way, rushing out of the apartment.

  Quita Wheeler sighed and flopped down on the bed. Damn, she thought. Maybe I shouldn’t have showed his ass that status after all.

  -

  Tyesha816: Thank you to everybody that showed up to my baby girl’s fourth birthday party! She had a great time! Just about everybody she wanted to show up, showed up. Thank you guys!—at Great Wolf Lodge.

  August 13th, 6:45 p.m.

  CHAPTER 2

  One of Rodrick’s closest friends, Gideon Byers, helped me and my best friend, Deja Michelle, put all the gifts in the trunk of my Pontiac G6. I gave them both hugs.

  “Thank you, guys,” I said.

  “No problem,” said Gideon. “I’ll follow you to the crib and help you unload if you want me to.”

  “I think I got it.”

  Deja was holding my daughter, Kylie, on her thick hips. She said, “You should let him help you since you-know-who isn’t here to do it.”

  Gideon added, “I don’t mind at all.”

  It was funny to me how two people that hung together could be so different. Gideon was kindhearted and treated people with respect. Rodrick was an arrogant asshole who cared more about hoes in the streets than his own daughter. I never would have thought he would have missed his daughter’s first birthday since he’d been out of prison.

  “I’ll give you gas money for going out of your way,” I said to Gideon.

  “Gas money?” He laughed me off.

  He shut the trunk of my car for me, and when Deja let my daughter down I thought I heard her whisper something to Gideon. I always wondered about them two. They claimed they weren’t seeing each other but it always seemed like they were conspiring every time they got around each other. And they both were very beautiful people, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they were creeping. Gideon and Deja both had light complexions—about the same tone as me, I guess—and their bodies were banging! Deja came a long way since high school; I’m talking at least a 100 pounds. Looking at her now in her tiny red bikini, she was thick in the right places, and the loss of weight brought out the cheek bones that had been hiding. As far as Gideon’s looks, this was actually the first time I had seen him with his shirt off. He was tall and medium built with real defined abs. His eyes were a light gray—and no they weren’t contacts; I checked. When I saw them playing with Kylie together in the pool, I thought, Aww, what a cute couple. It probably was only a matter of time before they had their own baby.

  Deja told me she’d talk to me later. Gideon held my door open for me and I thanked him as I slid in the driver’s seat.

  “You remember how to get to my house?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I get off on 63rd, right?”

  “Uh-huh. Just follow me. I don’t drive fast.”

  Suddenly, a Dodge Challenger with custom blue lights pulled up in front of my car and stopped with a screech. Rodrick got out, and the first person he said something to was Gideon. He gave him dap and joked that Gideon was dressed like a surfer in his board shorts and thong sandals.

  “Glad you’re in a good mood,” I said to him. “Why’d you finally decide to show up? You saw my status update?”

  Rodrick played dumb. “What status update? I came to wish my daughter a happy birthday.”

  “Daddy!” Kylie cheered from the backseat.

  He opened the back door and left her buckled in as he tickled her neck and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a stack of twenties—with the currency band still attached—and handed it to her. I looked at him like he was crazy. What was a four-year-old supposed to do with a thousand dollars cash?

  “Happy Birthday,” he said to her.

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her holding the cash. Then he looked at me as if he expected a “thank you” from me too.

  “Seriously?” I said to him in disbelief. “You forgot about her birthday, didn’t buy her a gift, so you give her a stack of money? How thoughtful.”

  “I didn’t forget about her birthday. You didn’t call me and tell me you changed the venue.”

  “I shouldn’t have had to call you,” I shot back. “I posted it on my events page last week. How come Gideon knew where and when it was and you didn’t, and he doesn’t even have a Site page?”

  “I don’t be on it like that.”

  “Shut up, you make more posts in a d
ay than me.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do. And all yo little ho friends always leave a comment. You was probably over that Angela youngandfly Serrano’s house. Or probably one of the other many hoes that Likes yo statuses all the time.”

  “This is what I gotta deal wit’,” Rodrick said to Gideon. “I need to be like you and go without having a Site page.”

  “No, you need to be like him and show up to yo daughter’s party,” I countered. “She was asking where you were the whole time.”

  Rodrick was playing me off again. I heard him ask Gideon why he didn’t call him. Gideon shrugged and said he would have but he left his phone in his pocket when he jumped in the pool. That was half true; Gideon was actually about to call him before he got his phone wet. I took the phone from him so he couldn’t call, told him if Rodrick couldn’t remember to show up on his own, then he didn’t deserve to come.

  When I heard Rodrick say something to him about drugs, I turned my head. I didn’t want to hear anything about their dealings. That way if either one of them got indicted, I wouldn’t know a thing.

  My phone beeped and I pulled it out my purse. I had notifications from my Site page. I tapped the screen with my thumb and saw that 39 people had “Liked” my status update. I clicked on the comments feed and started reading:

  Christina MsFineGirl: I had a great time! Thanks for inviting me!

  Atlanta Baby: I think Kylie liked my gift the most :)

  Rita RealSpit Gibson: You have a beautiful baby girl. Give her lots of love and never let up.

  Quita Wheeler: Tell her happy birthday for me.

  Joanne Dunley: Sorry I couldn’t come. Stuart didn’t come back with my car in time.

  Ladykiller: I wish I was there

  I knew everybody on here personally that commented on my post except the Quita Wheeler chick, Rita, and Ladykiller. From her info page, it looked like Quita graduated at the same school and in the same year as Rodrick and a few of my other friends. She’d randomly comment or Like one of my posts, and that was cool. Rita was an older woman in her late 40’s who always made inspirational quotes that sometimes gave me that boost I needed. But Ladykiller was something else altogether.

  Every time—and I mean every time—I made a post, Ladykiller would Like it. He was the true definition of a stalker. There was very little about him on his profile page. All it said was that we went to the same school and graduated the same year. But I didn’t remember him. And neither did Deja. He looked handsome in his profile picture—360 waves in his hair, piercing brown eyes, and a cute barely-grown-in mustache. But the question was—was it really his picture?

  I showed Rodrick and Gideon my phone. “Look. It’s him again. Look what he posted.”

  They both read it. Rodrick said, “You think it’s funny, Tyesha. You need to quit playin’ and delete his ass.”

  I took my phone back. “Delete all of yo groupie stalkers and I’ll delete mine.”

  -

  Tyesha816: At Planet Fitness, gettin’ it in like a G is ‘sposed ta. LOL!—with Deja Michelle.

  August 14th, 4:13 p.m.

  CHAPTER 3

  Fifteen minutes in, with five more to go, I jacked my arms back and forth on the elliptical machine. My sports bra was soaked between my breasts from all the sweat running down my neck. It was like my pink headband wasn’t working. Still, I kept pumping, with Cash Out’s “Drip” playing in one of my eardrums. I left the other earbud hanging against my body so I could listen to Deja preach to me.

  “He’s gonna keep treating you any kind of way until you dump his ass,” said Deja through her heaving pants. She was sweating just as hard as me on the elliptical to my right. “As long as you keep lettin’ him play you, he’s gonna continue to play you. He’s never gonna change.”

  “Everybody’s capable of change. Even gangsters. You see he’s changed a lot since he got out of jail this last time. He found God.”

  “Yeah, but he just uses the Bible to his advantage. He uses it to keep you in check. Whenever you accuse him of cheating, he just spits out a passage about trust. What did he tell you last time? That you were just scared he’d leave you, and God says there’s no fear in love. And then you turned around and made that yo status update.”

  I smiled. “I got a lot of Likes.”

  “You’re always joking. You need to take life more seriously. That’s why people always take advantage of you,” Deja said sternly. “But I know the real reason you haven’t broken up with him yet…”

  “Which is?” I asked.

  “You don’t want to change yo relationship status to ‘single.’ You’re so caught up by what those internet people think of you. You’re too embarrassed to be single. But don’t you think him sleeping around on you is more embarrassing? You post all these stats about how much you love him and how much you love being in love, but deep down you’re hurting. I can see it, girl.”

  “So wrong,” I said.

  Sort of true, I retracted in my head. But I wasn’t about to admit it. Total, I’d say I had six years invested in Rodrick Brown. We met in high school, back when I was a 17-year-old junior and he a senior. We had a child together, and everybody in school—even people outside of school, like my mother—expected us or wanted us to fail. I just wanted to prove everybody wrong. Every relationship has its ups and downs. I didn’t want to be like the other girls I saw changing their relationship statuses back and forth between “in a relationship” and “single” every other month. That would be beyond embarrassing. If I was going to change my status, I wanted it to go from “in a relationship” to “engaged,” and eventually to “married”—in that order. Shame on me for sticking it out with an imperfect man I believe in.

  “I’m trying to keep you from being hurt,” Deja said. “I see it coming.”

  “Did you see his status update today?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I did. He posted a picture of Kylie holding all that money, talking ‘bout, ‘My daughter is balling harder than you niggas.’ Rodrick is a piece of work.”

  “Guess who Liked it?”

  “Me and about 50 other people.”

  “Yeah, but I’m talkin’ about that girl Angela youngandfly Serrano. She’s stalking him hard. It’s disrespectful. I know she sees that he’s in a relationship. I know she clicked on the link and seen my page. She knows who I am.”

  “And she doesn’t care. Neither does Rodrick. You see he hasn’t deleted her. Nine times out of ten he’s fuckin’ her. Have you ever thought that maybe he likes this girl? Maybe he wants to be with her, but you’re holding him back. Maybe he’s torn between this girl and the mother of his child.”

  “Bad theory,” I said.

  She laughed. “I’m through with you.”

  I got to my third mile before Deja did, but I kept going until she finished. We were supposed to hit the weights next but she gave an excuse about how she was too tired today. Usually I would get her to stay by giving her the guilt trip—telling her the pounds could crawl back on her hips if she didn’t mix in weight lifting with the cardio. But I didn’t this time.

  I wanted her to leave.

  As I sat down on the leg press alone and mounted my feet against the plate, I thought about all the people that wanted to see me and Rodrick fail. The anger helped me to push out an extra three sets. When I stood up, my hamstrings burned so bad I had to pigeon-walk to the showers.

  Under the streaming shower head, I examined my body to see if I had any improvements. I tightened my tummy and still saw the same flatness, no six-pack. Turning my leg so my thigh muscles flexed, I thought I saw more definition but it could’ve just been the gleam of the water playing tricks on me. Sometimes it frustrated me how people new to exercising—like Deja—could start working-out and get better results than somebody that had been doing it way longer. I really think I reached my fitness pique.

  When I heard my phone buzz, I leaned halfway out the frosted glass stall and checked it. Somebody else made a co
mment about my status today. I tapped my screen and read it.

  Ladykiller: Which one are you at?

  I freaked out. I took my towel and started washing the suds off of me as fast as I could. Was this guy really going to try and meet me here? I suddenly regretted letting Deja leave so easily.

  Throwing on my Ruskin Eagles hoodie and campus pants and slinging my gym bag strap over my shoulder, I high-tailed it out of the showers. I could tell I didn’t dry off good enough because my booty and my legs still felt wet.

  I was almost to the door when I saw a man that resembled Ladykiller’s profile picture coming in the building. I stopped so fast I stumbled forward a little.

  “Tyesha Fenty,” he called with a big smile.

  He used my real name, not my Site name. I figured he knew it because most of my relatives on my page had the last name Fenty. He was wearing a black sweat suit with neon green resistance bands slung over his shoulder.

  When he opened his arms for a hug, I slightly turned my shoulder toward him so he couldn’t get a full embrace.

  “How you doing?” he asked, as if we were old buddies.

  “I’m good,” I said with a nervous smile. “Just got through workin’ out. Funny we should meet up here.”

  “It is, ain’t it? I was already on my way here when I saw yo status. I didn’t know if you was at this one or the one in Overland Park. You stay near here?”

  “No, I stay far, far out. Clear across town.” Actually, I stayed right down the street. About six blocks from here. I took a step toward the door, hoping he would get the hint.

  “How’s yo little girl doing? Kylie, right?”

  “She’s fine. I have to go pick her up.”

  “I know. Yo momma’s watching her until you find another daycare. Is she getting any better with that hoarding? I remember you posted a status about her problem of not being able to throw anything away.”