"My father; I was named after my father.  He was a sailor from Jamaica who'd sail into Boston on occasion and when he did, he'd look my mother up.   He'd hang around just long enough to screw her and beat her and then he'd head back to sea.  At the time I was born she was in love I suppose, so she named me after him.  Ha, love sure is blind isn't it?  Anyway, the beatings didn't start until later, at least that's what she told me.  I don't remember."

     "Damn, I'm so sorry to hear that Jado, well, I mean it's still a cool name." I said.

     "Yea, it's a pretty cool name," and she smiled that captivating smile that made my knees tremble and my heart flutter; perfect, large white teeth peeking from dark, soft, thick lips.

     "Honey, I have never seen a woman more beautiful than you," I whispered as I looked at her, stunned by her magnificence.  Slowly I reached my hand toward her face and stroked her soft, smooth, light brown skin.  Softer than a peach she was.

     Her large, warm, horse-like dark eyes and long eyelashes smiled at me as she tenderly took my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers. 

      Life was perfect at this moment, nestled in a sand dune with my new lover, overlooking the moon-reflected waters on a warm spring Caribbean night.

     "Thank you, I'm glad you like what you see," her response.

     "Do I ever.  You have got to be the sexiest woman on the planet.  What ever did I do to deserve the pleasure of meeting and loving you?"

     "Oh, I guess you just got lucky," she tossed back.

     I played with her long, thin fingers, wrapping them in my own.

     "So did you ever get to meet your dad?" I asked.

     "Nah, the last time my mom saw him I was 5; I don't remember him at all.  But I've seen pictures of him; he was a big, good looking man.  I can see why my mom fell for him."

     "It seems you inherited his good looks them." I smiled.

     "Perhaps."  She grinned. 

     "You are so intriguing Jado, there's so much about you that I can't wait to discover.  I mean, although it's only been a month, I feel as if I've known you a lifetime and yet, there are still so many things about you that I find mysterious," I said while continuing to massage her hand.

     She tossed her head back and laughed. 

     "No need for mysteries.  Just ask; what is it that you want to know?"

     "Well, for example, why are you so intense in your studies?  You hardly ever relax; I mean you don't even drink once in awhile?  Why the intensity?  Why a double major in law and business?"

     She became quiet, pensive and stared up at the clouds for a few moments before speaking.

     "I feel as if I got a late start and there's so much I want to do.  I am going to start a foundation.  For women.  Women who need a fresh start.  Women who are in abusive relationships and need to get out of them.  Women who have children but no partner or spouse and need help.  I want to give them a new beginning.  Shelter them in a safe place where their abusers can't find them.  Provide day care for their children while they learn a new skill or get an education so they can get a better job.  Help them by paying a deposit and a few months rent to get them out of their old environment and into a new one.  I want to help.  I want to make a difference.  And I want to know all the legal and business aspects myself to make sure there are no fuck ups.  I will do this.  It is my life goal."

     She looked at me.

     "Does that make sense?"

     Her intensity stunned me.

     "Why yes, of course.  That's incredible.  What a beautiful vision."  I was near speechless.

     "I saw what my mother went through trying to raise my brothers and I on waitress tips.  She was stuck, trapped.   It's a tough life for so many women.  I want to help.  I know I can make a difference."

     "Oh honey, you are so special, I've never met anyone with such a kind, gentle, loving heart as yours.  You are an angel," I said as feelings flushed over me nearly bringing me to tears.

     She smiled, leaned close and kissed me.  I responded by pulling her tighter to me.  I wanted her now. I needed to make love to her at that moment.

     She chuckled as she softly pulled away.

     "Not now baby, I have a little work to do first."

     "Work?  Now? At 10pm on a Saturday night?"

     "Yes, work.  How do you think I can afford school and to send a few dollars each week to my mother and grandmother to make sure they have food on their table back in Boston?"

     "Now, now, don't pout," she continued while holding me tightly against her breast, "it won't take long, in fact, if you'd like, you can come with me."

     "What exactly do you do?"  I'd never heard her talk about her job and couldn't imagine where she'd find time to work with all the time she put into classes and studying.

     "Let's just say I deal with supply and demand.  There's a demand out there for my product and I supply it."

     I couldn't help but return her smile. 

     "See?" I said, "I told you that you were a mystery."

     "Mysteries were made to be solved," she said, "I'll be right back; I have to change."

     We drove up to one of the island's many big nightclubs that were erected to entertain the flourishing tourist industry.  Flashing bright colored lights whirled from both inside and out of the building.  A large, bright neon sign scrolled "The Atlantis" around a huge spinning globe on top of the roof of this college-kid-on-spring-break magnet.  Groups of clean cut twenty-somethings, and most probably many younger, with red-fresh sun burns mingled around outside, talking, drinking, smoking.  Each week their names and faces changed, yet somehow they seemed the same.

     "We're going in there?  In a het-college-kid-nightclub?"

     "Well not exactly, we don't have to go in.  In fact you don't have to go anywhere.  Just wait right here," her grin never stopped.      "…and I'll be right back."

     I watched as she walked away from the car and toward one of the groups of kids, awed by her majestic splendor.  Her large athletic frame moved with the grace of a lioness.  She had changed into a black t-shirt with cut-off sleeves, a black leather vest, and worn, black jeans.  With those clothes and her dreadlocks she easily could pass as a thug. 

     I chuckled at the thought.

     As she approached the group of young men they slowly stopped laughing and joking and turned their attention to her.  Soon, they had formed a circle around her.  She was showing them something that they evidently found to be quite interesting.

     Moments later she left that group and walked down the sidewalk toward another cluster of adult-wannabes.  Again, they began to listen to her and were very attentive to whatever it was she had to say or was showing them.  As she walked away from the group she stuffed something into her pocket, turned, winked at me, then headed toward another small assembly; three college age boys and a girl.

     Curiosity now had a grip on me and refused to let go; I slipped out of the car and following her.

     By the time she noticed I was behind her, she'd already begun her patter, talking in a thick Jamaican accent.

     "No no, here we don't smoke the weed no mo' man.  Here we do 'Voodoo Ice'.  You evah hear of Voodoo?  Yes, well my daddy was a Shaman from Jamaica and he taught me the ancient secret recipe that Shamans have used to turn people into zombies for centuries.  What we do now is crystallize it and attach the tiny molecules to a patch.  See?" 

     She pulled out a piece of black crepe paper and very carefully unwrapped a small flesh colored patch, "Wear this and the Voodoo Ice is absorbed through your skin.  It gives you a high much better than smokin' dem stinky ol' bones.  And the good thing is dat no one ever knows you're doing it, no drug dogs can sniff this out.  It's the latest and greatest for the pleasure-seeker.  Put one of these on and in about an hour, you are a walking zombie, flying high inside your own head.  You will see and hear things dat you ain't nevah seen or heared befo'."

     The young men looked at each other then, deciding it was worth a try, began pulling their wallets out.  Jado took the money and began distributed patches.

     Disgusted with what I had seen, I turned and quickly returned to the car.  She followed close behind.

     As soon as she sat in the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition, I exploded.

     "I can't believe you sell drugs Jado!  I am shocked, stunned, I'm, I'm speechless.  I would've never guessed in a million years.  Do you know how quick they'd throw your ass in jail for dealing drugs?!  How can you risk your dreams, your future like that?  I thought you were smarter than that.  My God, I can't believe I let myself fall in love with a drug dealer!  How…"

      She interrupted me.

      "Don't be so quick to judge," she snapped. "Like I said, it's supply and demand.  Don't blame me if they're stupid enough to buy that crap.  I am going to finish school and I am going to start that foundation and I am going to do whatever it takes to accomplish that."

     Her dark eyes glared.

     I sat back, pressed against the seat and became quiet, too many thoughts whirled through my head.

     When we were almost back to her apartment, she pulled into the parking lot of a small drugstore.

     "I need to pick up a few things, want to come in?"

     "No."

     Gently she reached for my hand, "please, come in with me."

     I pulled my hand away from her, opened the door and stepped out into the humid, summer night air, slamming the door behind me.

     Once inside, she quickly went about picking up the items she needed and placing them into the little red carry basket. 
 
     Toothpaste, cat food, bottled water, eggs.  Then she walked down the paper isle and picked up a package of black crepe paper.  My stomach cringed at the sight of it and I thought I might get sick.

     "Let's go." I demanded.

     "One more thing," she said and walked toward the isle that of small household items.  She stopped in front of the area of shoe repair and polish items, foot insoles and pads.

     "I need some more 'Voodoo Ice'," she smiled, winked at me, then grabbed a couple packages of beige colored No Slip pads that are used to stick under a new pair of shoes so they don't slip. 

     She placed them in her basket and asked, "Think they'll throw my ass in jail for selling No-Slip pads?"

©Oceanldy