Hunt For Her: Black & White by Xyla Turner
Chapter Eight
Hunt
Son of a fucking bitch.
She was gone, yet again. I told myself twenty times a day, not to be this crazed over this woman. She was a gotdamn woman for fucks' sake. Yet, she was driving me bat shit crazy. Her ass was late for class and I’m about to leave and go on a hunt. She’s just a woman, but I can’t shake her out of my mind. In every fiber of my being, I feel like something is missing inside. That feeling of heartbreak has never been so real. It's fucking uncomfortable and constant.
A few of the guys have been texting me, asking where I have been. Talking about wanting to go on the rides, where we basically look for trouble in the surrounding counties. I ain’t in the mood for that shit. Hitto and I did that when we were younger. Now, when I look at it, it’s like we’re in fucking high school. Traveling to Jew town for what? I mean, they minding their fuckin business. Shouldn’t I have some business?
Well, I do.
Gotdamn homework.
And Kizzy.
After talking to Professor Cullen about the shit he just had to tell me at that moment, I drove home. One, because I needed to calm down. Two, because I needed to calm the fuck down.
I tried to call the woman three times, but the phone went straight to voicemail. We had our last class before the break, so I wouldn’t see her in class until after Thanksgiving.
Son of a fucking bitch.
The next day as I paced in my apartment, I decided that I was going over there. There were no more fucks to give, so she’d have to see me. I wouldn’t leave until she did.
I rang the doorbell three times. Then I knocked and knocked.
Nothing.
Then I began to pound on the door until it was jerked open but I was faced with the end of the barrel of a shotgun.
HOLY FUCK!
“The fuck do you want?” A man growled.
A big, fucking black man, at that.
“Here to see my girl. She ain’t answering.” I told him, as I backed down the steps as he poked the gun towards me.
“Maybe she ain’t your girl no more?” He commented with one eyebrow up.
I had a revolver in the glove compartment of my truck as well as a steel bat in the truck bed and if I could get to that fucker, we’d definitely fucking dance.
“Look, I need to talk to her. She’s mad, but I just need to talk to her.” I figured I'd relate to him from a man's standpoint.
I had no idea who this fucker was, but she couldn’t have moved on. Not that quick. I was just here.
Fuck.
“Look, man. Don’t know what you and her up to, but if she ain’t answering, she ain’t here or she ain’t trying to see you. Take the fucking hint.” He hitched up one shoulder, did not move the gun, but on some level seemed to be speaking from a place of knowing. As if he were trying to give me a hint.
With one nod of my head, I turned and went back to my truck. Well stomped back, as I heard the echo of my heavy utility boots hitting the ground with each step. With a quick decision, I decided to ride around the block and parked far enough away, that my vehicle would not be detected, but where I could see everything. If she had moved on, I was going to jail that night.
Fuck it all.
I stayed there for hours ruminating on how I would cut whoever came to her door or left her place in little bitty pieces. It wasn’t until her lights came on upstairs and then a car drove up and parked behind hers, that my heart sank. I swore on everything I knew, for a woman who started out as a fuck buddy, I was ready to risk it all. If she had moved on or had some other fucker coming over, I was shooting his ass and then slicing him like a hog on the good ole fourth of July.
Fuck all of this shit.
Two people got out of the car but they were women. They rang her doorbell and then the hallway lights came one. I hopped out of my truck and began jogging down the street. Just in time to see the girls jump back and that same gun barrel came out.
“What the fuck?” The taller one yelled.
“Who the fuck are you?” The man growled.
“We’re friends of Kizzy’s. Who the fuck are you?” She snapped back, as the other one held her chest, with her hand in her bag, like she was searching for something.
“Can you put that shotgun down, before you hurt somebody?” The tall one didn’t look scared but pissed as hell. She sounded it too.
He lowered it but did not move his position from the door, as he stared at her. Not them. His eyes were on the tall girl. My heart surged when I heard feet coming down the steps.
“Hey, Tyrell. It’s cool. These are my friends.” Kizzy’s voice rang out.
“Yeah?” He kept his eyes on the tall one. “This one could use a lesson in some manners.”
“Fuck you!” she snapped back. “You’re the one coming to the gotdamn door with a gun. That is no way to greet someone. My manners are appropriate for this situation. Now will you move the fuck out of the way?”
He growled and slightly moved back. The tall one pushed past him, then the other one and I was next in line.
“Kizzy!” I yelled. “Sweetheart, please talk to me.”
Tyrell went to pull up his gun again, but I pulled out my revolver, pointed it at him and said, “I’d not do that if I were you.”
“You’re on my property!” He countered.
“Hunt!” Kizzy screamed. “What are you doing?”
“I need to fucking talk to you. You won’t answer my calls. He’s pulling out guns on me. I just need to talk to you. Just tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do it. Please.”
Yeah, it was official. My ass was begging. Like, legit begging.
“It’s fine Tyrell,” Kizzy tapped the man on the shoulder. “Ladies, I’ll be up in a minute. It’s the door on the left. Upstairs. I need to handle this.”
“You sure?” The tall one eyed me with suspicion all on her face.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Kizzy nodded, with her eyes planted on me.
They slowly moved upstairs, while Tyrell went inside, but opened his window to openly stare outside. Kizzy stepped out the door, but wouldn’t go any further. I remained at the bottom step, but put my gun away and said, “I’m sorry for all of this shit, but I really needed to talk to you.”
“What, Hunt?” She asked with annoyance laced in every word.
“Whatever you want me to do? Okay. I’ll do it. You want me to denounce something. Fine. I’ll do it. Stop going to my group. Fine. Take another Black History course. Shit, I’ll make it my major if I have to. Whatever you need me to do, sweetheart, I’ll do it. Okay. I want to be with you. Nobody else, but you. What do you need from me to prove that?”
She shook her head and I already knew I wouldn’t like her answer.
“What you’re talking about is taking action, but the issue, Hunt, is your mindset and your heart. You are hell-bent on hating another race for what? There is no action to stop that. You can stop going to your meetings or denouncing it all you want, but if you believe that in your heart and mind. Guess what, you’ll still manifest it. I don’t want you to do anything to prove anything to me. I think you need to prove it to yourself. If you are indeed making changes in your life, then that’s your choice, Hunt. Not mine. I’m making changes in my life because my mindset has changed. Do you understand?”
I took one step up, with three separating us, and said, “So have I. I’m in college. I’m no longer at the club. I’m in fucking Warren County, chasing down a black woman and begging her. My life has changed too. Don’t you see that? You’re not someone I’m just fucking. You’re more, Kizzy. I know I’m fucked up, but don’t you see the changes.”
Her head tilted to the side with her mouth partially open. Then she chuckled and said, “Yeah, Hunt. I do see it and it scares the shit out of me.”
I took another step up and laughed while sharing. “You? I’m out of my mind for you. That has never happened before and I don’t know what to do about it. Don’t know who to talk to about it. Just trying not to get arrested or shot trying to see my girl. The guy said you moved on and I swear, I was going to jail tonight if a man would have hopped out of that car.”
“Hunt, these are stalker tendencies. You seriously might want to talk to someone about this.” She said it with a smirk, but I knew she meant it.
“Think I need a shrink?” I asked while looking into her deep brown eyes.
“Yeah, I know you do.” She nodded.
“How about I talk to the one at the college?”
Poking out her bottom lip, she nodded slowly and said, “I think that’s a great idea.”
“I’ll do it on Monday, then.”
“This is the new Hunt, huh?” Kizzy smiled.
“No, the new Hunt wants to take you out. Maybe even go away for the weekend. We should take a road trip. I can look up Air BNB’s or something. I want to be with you, all the fucking time. I’m better with you, Kizzy.”
Almost involuntary, she reached her hand out and caressed my face.
“I’ve never had someone better with me,” she leaned down and pecked my lips.
Fuck.
“I definitely am.” I wrapped my arm around her waist.
“I have company, but can we talk later.” She said with a smile.
“What time are they leaving?” I asked. “I can come back tonight.”
“I don’t know. We got a couple of movies lined up. They’re old high school buddies of mine and we’re reconnecting.”
“That’s fine. Text me when they leave and I'll come over whatever time. Just want to wake up with you, sweetheart. Grant me that.”
“Okay, Hunt. Okay.” She went to peck me again, but I pulled her into me and deepened the kiss. Running my tongue over her lips and then inside her mouth. As always, she was delicious and sweet to the taste. I had to pull back because I’d have to kick her friends out if I took it any further.
“See you later, Kizzy,” I jumped off the steps. “Text me, when they leave.”
“Okay.” She waved and turned to leave as I stood on the stairs and waited to hear the second door shut. Looking over at Tyrell’s window, which was still open and he was still looking at me. He shut them immediately and looking up to the second-floor windows, I saw the two women staring down too. The tall one was glaring and the other had more of a curious look. I walked off and went home a happier man than when I came. I turned the ringer on my phone to the loudest setting and waited.
Around eleven-thirty that night, I received a text.
The phone was like a tether pulling me to it's like a siren calling. That’s what Kizzy did to me. Had me fucking whipped and breaking every rule. Even the cardinal one. Brotherhood before all.
Now, all that shit was up in the air. Between my classes, Kizzy and the shit I’d seen, I was questioning everything.
Except for this woman.
---
For some reason, I could not let go of the words of Malcolm X. He seemed like a man that was intelligent and very militant. This was identifiable to me, but how did a man like that change his mind about the races? This is the thing that baffled me. I knew that Kizzy was black and I know what I’d been told, but there was nothing inferior about her. Shit, I was the fucking one who was blessed by being in her presence. Even when she tried to get shot of my ass, I fought way too hard to stay. The shit was beyond me, as I couldn’t really at the time say that it was because I had feelings for her. It seemed cosmic, and I didn’t even believe in that shit. I swear it was like I know that I’d be missing something if I let her go. I fucking enrolled in college and that is shit I never thought I’d do. It was no wonder Hitto was confused. Shit, for awhile I was.
Now, though, I was no longer confused. I knew Kizzy was mine, but there was some other work that needed to be done. The only person that I could ask was the very man that taught the shit.
After Cullen showed us this Malcolm guy, I wanted to know more. So I stayed after one of the classes, so I could figure some shit out.
“How can I help you, Hunt?” Cullen asked, but in a condescending tone.
“I come in fucking peace,” I held up both hands. “This, uh, Malcolm guy. Can you tell me more about him?”
He was shuffling papers and clearing his space for the next class I assumed, but after I said what I needed, he looked up and eyed me for a bit.
“Why?” He finally asked, abandoning the pile of papers in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Seems like a guy I should know,” I answered, without giving too much up.
“There are plenty of books on Mr. X,” he remained skeptical and I knew he’d make me say it.
Whatever the "it" was, the professor was going to make me say the shit out loud.
“Yeah,” I aggressively rubbed my hand down the back of my neck. “I, uh, would like some tutoring on him. For class, you know?”
“For Kizzy?” He asked, clearly hinting that he knew there was something.
This made me feel good because she was mine and I wanted everyone to know that.
“Kizzy ain’t got nothing to do with this,” I explained. “I’d rather she not know that I’m asking.”
“Why, if I may ask?” Cullen unfolded his arms and gave me a sincere look.
Forcing out a deep sigh, I shook my head and answered the best way I knew how. “I ain’t had the best teaching, is all. I’m here because of her. I love her and I want us to last, but with my background and shit, I need some help. I’m man enough to know that. Figured you’d be the best person for the job. You know, with the reteaching. Since you’re a professor and all. But, uh, Kizzy doesn’t know any of it. Is there a group or something I can join? I kinda, need some hands-on training or something.”
Cullen let out a slow breath as he stared at me with curiosity if I had to guess. Then he nodded while he went back to the pile of papers in front of him.
“Let’s walk and talk, Hunt.” He was still nodding his head. “I’m working on something that might be of some help. So, let’s see if that can work.”
The thing he was working on with some professors around the country, was the study of Daryl Davis. He was a black man that befriended the Klan Imperial Wizard Roger Kelly of the Ku Klux Klan. What they were studying and writing some papers on was the power behind understanding and not judgment. It was some interesting shit. These men met weekly and I gladly joined them via zoom, as they shared findings, I shared what I was taught, the literature we circulated and they shared the counter literature. It wasn’t just words, but artifacts, science, the hate. They talked about the raping of black women by white masters, the dehumanization of the black man and other systems that cultivated this notion of systematic racism. The shit was almost too much to handle. They showed videos, had me watching movies that depicted this sort of shit, I watched Malcolm X movies and documentaries, mostly on my own and even got into some other sort of tv shows like the Godfather of Harlem. I did all of this and hid it from Kizzy. I wanted to show her that I had changed instead of talking. I've done talked all my fucking life. Ain’t had shit to show for it, but her. Well, she was worth every tear I shed at the travesties. The eight professors were patient, curious and did not show any judgment. They were black, white, women and men. They seemed to be more excited about my transformation than I even knew to be. One guy even said that he ran a speaker series that he’d love to include me on, which was a full-time job. He even told me about a police officer who got into some racial shit, turned his life around and was sought after all over the country. Then to top it off, he knew people in the government who also had their own sort of transformation. Some Democrat, who used to be a Republican and was married to a black woman. Now, that guy, I wanted to speak to him. I wondered if he wrote a book or some shit.
The point was, that there were others that realized that shit went a whole lot deeper than the color of someone’s skin. This seemed to be the theme. The epidermis on our bodies was for protection and they came in all shapes and sizes. That did not determine our worth. It never should have. We were reaping the repercussions of the fact that it did and it was still impacting the communities.
The power dynamics and all.