8. Corinthians
Corinthians
“Come on!” my daddy pulled me out of the car, and I glared at him. “This shit isn’t an option!”
“I don’t want to!” I yelled and pulled back. We were at another house, this one bigger than ours but smaller than Robert's. I was tired, hungry, and my body hurt, but that didn’t mean anything to my daddy. “I don’t want to!”
“You don’t have a choice!” he yelled and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Corinthians, you don’t have a choice! This is our only option! This or I die! Is that what you want? For me to die?”
“Yes,” I replied, staring him in the eyes.
For almost the last year, I had been fighting, getting beaten by Robert, and barely seeing my family.
I missed Madea, Granddaddy, and my cousins.
We moved from our house to another one across town, closer to Robert.
They put me in a private school, and I was lonely.
The only times I got to come out of the house were for school, to fight, and to be with Robert.
Robert was always there, watching, telling me what I did wrong and how to get better.
“You don’t mean that,” he said, shaking his head. For a second, he looked sad, like I had hurt his feelings, and it made me smile. I wanted to hurt him so that he could get even a small amount of what I was feeling regularly.
“I do,” I said, nodding. “I want you to die so that I don’t have to do this!” I pointed to the house behind him. “I don’t want to do this!”
“Too fuckin’ bad,” he said, then stood. “You’re doing it.” He dragged me away from the car and up the short walk to the front door, then knocked. “And if you keep fighting like this, I’m going to have Robert put that fuckin’ collar on you.”
I stopped moving then. I hated that collar; it was heavy and had spikes on the inside.
I’d seen Uri have to wear one just like it.
Kenbral didn’t. Over the past few months, so much has changed with them.
Kenbral spent a lot of time at Robert’s side, not saying anything but just watching.
Uri continued to fight, beating everyone put in the ring with him, which made Robert happy.
But that didn’t stop Uri’s punishments. He spent a lot of time in the water tanks or hanging upside down on the table with me.
The front door opened, and Jonathan Franklin stood on the other side of it. He looked down at me and smiled, then turned to Daddy.
“I see you’re on time,” he said, stepping back. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to show.”
“I said I would be here,” Daddy said. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and guided me into the house.
Jonathan closed the door, then pointed to the room to our left. “We will be discussing business in there,” he told Daddy. Daddy nodded, and then we followed behind Jonathan. The house felt cold; the sound of the air running hummed softly, and it smelled like Mr. Clean.
We walked into an office, and Jonathan went to sit behind the desk while Daddy stood in front of it. “Stand over there, Corinthians,” Daddy said, pointing to the wall near a big window. I slowly walked to the wall and put my back against it.
“Have a seat,” Jonathan instructed Daddy. Once he sat, Jonathan sat and leaned back in his chair. “So, you are ready to discuss her price?”
“Yes,” Daddy said, nodding. “You have a year to figure out what you want to do with her.”
“I have,” Jonathan agreed. “And I have a price set.”
I watched them discuss business in front of me as if I weren’t here.
Most times, I tuned out whatever Daddy was talking about, but this time, something told me to listen.
Was he going to sell me again? And to Jonathan?
He hardly ever showed up to fights, and when he did, he never stayed long enough to see them through.
“Which is?” Daddy asked. His left leg was starting to bounce, which meant he was either nervous or excited.
“Two million,” Jonathan answered. He leaned forward and picked up a pen from the desk as well as a small folder.
It looked like his checkbook, but I was not sure.
“I typically request a sample before I buy, but I know she is pure and is a good listener.” He chuckled and shook his head.
“We are going to have a lot of fun together.” He glanced over at me and smiled.
“More than I have had with anyone else.”
“There are stipulations to this,” Daddy said, shaking his head. “Just like with Robert, there is a limited amount of access. Time restrictions, relax periods.”
“All of that is fine,” Jonathan said, waving him off. “I am good with all my girls and rules. I typically work with the General, and you know how particular she is with her girls.”
“I have had the pleasure,” Daddy smiled. “Is she going to be the one who works with her?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Jonathan answered. “I will let you know in the coming weeks.”
“Okay,” Daddy nodded. “Once the last installment payment is cleared, you will have access to her.”
“I plan to pay all at once,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “I want immediate access to her.” He glared at Daddy. “Uninterrupted access for the first week so that she knows who she answers to.”
“Then that will have to be during the summer,” Daddy told him. “School is almost over, so no one can or will ask questions about her absence.”
“Deal.” Jonathan reached across the desk to shake Daddy’s hand. “The check will be deposited tomorrow morning into your company’s account.” Daddy stood, snapped his fingers at me, and pointed to the empty spot next to him. I slowly came to stand at his side.
“I love her obedience.” Jonathan chuckled. “Robert trained her well.”
“Good training and good stock,” Daddy said, then grabbed the back of my neck. “We are still working on her, though. She’s a little rough around the edges. But that makes her a good fighter.”
“Good to know,” Jonathan said, nodding. He walked us to the door, opened it, and put his hand out for Daddy to shake. “Ruben, it was a pleasure doing business with you.”
“I look forward to hearing from you again,” Daddy said, shaking his hand. When they let go, we walked to the car. I got into the back seat, and Daddy got into the front seat.
“I’m going to Jonathan's now, too?” I asked as Daddy drove away. I looked out the window.
He didn’t answer, just looked down at me, smirked, then turned his attention back to the road in front of us.
***
“Hold the plastic over their faces longer if you have to,” I heard Robert tell Logan. I fought against my restraints, hating the way the cold metal felt against my wrist, but I wasn’t going to stop. He was going to have to kill me before I stopped.
“How much longer?” Logan huffed as he walked towards me. “Her little ass is either going to die or submit at this point.”
“She will submit,” Robert said. He took a pull of his cigar and blew the smoke from his nose.
I watched him walk around the table I was strapped to.
“She has no other choice. Death is never an option.” He gently touched my leg with his finger, then patted my knee.
“One way or another, Corinthians, you will do what I say with no questions asked.”
“You have faith in a child.” Logan chuckled and shook his head. “Give her to me for a few days, and she will come back ready and willing to listen.” He licked his lips and nodded. “I know just what to do with her.”
“You ruin everything you touch,” Robert said, shaking his head. “Just like when you cook.”
“When I cook?” Logan looked at him with a confused expression. “How is this the same?”
“You don’t know how to marinate your meat,” Robert replied.
“You season it and then throw it on a fire. Your preparation is poor, which in turn makes your meal poor quality.” Robert touched my arm.
“You rush through it all instead of properly washing your meat, seasoning it to the cut and quality, and not just the type of meat.” He shook his head.
“You use a heavy pan and overfire instead of making sure your pan is the correct temperature. Then you cover it and walk away instead of watching it, anticipating the needs and technique you will need for your meal to be perfect.” He laughed and threw his head back.
“And let’s not discuss when your meat is ready, how you just pull it off the fire and start cutting instead of letting your meat rest and lock in that flavor and moisture. ”
“So you’re comparing my cooking to breaking a pet?” Logan kissed his teeth. “You don’t know everything about everything, Robert. Some things need brute force and not slow preparations.”
“That’s true, but not this,” he said, shaking his head. “To properly break your pet, you have to prepare her for the process so when it's all said and done, the presentation to the people outside of the kitchen has no clue what you did but understands that your pet is better than theirs.”
“I ain’t competing with a muthafucka out there,” Logan denied. “I know what I’m doing. And like I said, if you let me have her for a few days, you wouldn’t have me standing here right now trying to figure out how to make her listen to you.”
“Oh, she listens,” Robert said, patting my face. “She’s now learning to continue to listen because if she doesn’t? Well…” he shrugged and stepped away. “That will be her choice from here on out.” Robert looked at Logan and pointed to me. “She can pass out this time if she fights you.”
Logan tugged at the thick plastic in his hands, then nodded. He walked to me, and before he could put it over my face, I took a deep breath. “Looks like she’s going to listen.” Logan laughed. I could hear him but not see anything because my eyes were closed.