Pure Innuendos

By Loodie

“People in this town keep secrets hidden as if it’s their birthday suit. You’re digging in a place where worms are present. If you dig deep enough, you might not like what’s in that steel vault!”

Like every small town in the rural south, Coppertown has its quirks and its secrets. Jessica Winslow, a young, beautiful curator at a local museum, feels it is up to her to unravel these skeletons starting with an exhibition project called “Black Widow Swamp,” one of the town’s most embarrassing myths. After receiving an anonymous “top secret” file on the mysterious landmark, she opens up a Pandora’s Box to a seventy-year-old murder case on a drifter by the name of Tresstina Bandeau. As Jessica digs deeper to the truth, she realizes the real truth is in her backyard, and she’s not safe from what is coming her way. Jessica will have to face what she started, or suffer what’s coming her way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532081316

Loodie

Loodie is an aspiring new author from a small surburb called Lake City, located in the South Carolina. This Gamecock Alumni is a Christian, a mom, and an SC educator. She loves to write poems and stories to captivate readers. Pure Innuendos is her first debut book to be published.

Book preview

A Common Bond

Involuntarily, we were distributed like cargo out of deliberate greed and vanity.

As we were isolated from our humanity, we didn’t give up on our divinity.

About a thousand pounds of flesh counts, minus the ones that made the ship balanced out.

Each sought out familiar faces or a similar sound that reminds each one of his homeplaces,

A couple of replies, tragic cries, but more unaccustomed tongues of stranger ties.

When we arrived at our destination, we scanned the coloration of our brown denotation,

We didn’t know what was in our new relation, but it was in our best interest for acculturation.

We shared a common bond in our revelation, to not forget our old ways in the New World’s assimilation.

They silenced our drums, but they couldn’t take away our soulful hums.

We sell to our children folklore of lullabies, building character, and strength inside.

We revealed our roots to shine in our truths; we praised our forefather’s merits to celebrating our youths.

We dance on our boils and bruises, and we clap with callouses as our muses.

Our matriarchic quilt, stitched with love, not only to lead us to freedom with rivers aligned to a ditch,

But to remind us with stars of tapestry to declare our history was rich.

Ingenuity was a mishap, for we were only looking for a sense of freedom, self, and place…

The sweet Lord was the reason for helping us to win this race.

Part I

Music Speaks Louder Than Words

Chapter 1

Didn’t I Blow Your Mind This Time?

1976 (30 years ago)

Didn’t I blow your mind this time? Didn’t I? Ohhh…

The Delfonics filled the stifling night air as a 1970 black Chevy truck roamed its way down a long, winding dirt road. The driver was driving so fast that the dust appeared as if it was coming from a smoke machine, creating a cover that people could use to flee from trouble. Where was the vehicle headed? If you asked the prideful folks of Pickford County about any long dirt roads in their small town, they would tell you about one dirt road that should not be traveled on lightly. They said it was a forbidding passage that was tainted by many evil spirits lurking the ditches on both sides of it. They said that once you reach the head of the dirt road, you could see Pandora’s Box. Black Widow Swamp was huge and intimidating, and it reeked of grotesquery and secrets. Legend has it that if you look at the middle of the swamp, a ghastly shade of green will appear. Folks said you should not stare at it for long because the green hue would hypnotize even the non-believers, possess their souls, and then use their bodies as a host to recruit others.

They said local environmentalists could not put an age to this foul wetland, but the citizens of Coppertown, South Carolina could offer their ghost tales about it. One of the most classic tales was Old Woman Tressie, the most repulsive woman in Coppertown history, who died from a gunshot wound to the belly while she was with child. Most of the locals would say that it was by God’s grace that she nor the baby made it through because she was the wife of Satan himself, and the baby was the couple’s spawn. Was this true? Or did this story contribute to the long lineage of urban legends created by this sick, hick town?

The mysterious Chevy truck came to an abrupt stop not far from Black Widow’s Swamp. The driver, a six-foot-tall African American male who looked to be in his early twenties, swung open his door to get out. He would’ve been more attractive if he picked his afro more than a few times a day, and his 6 o’clock shadow gave even the locals a grimy welcome when he was in town. He hid his savagely grey eyes, courtesy of the molestation his mother suffered from one of Coppertown’s prestigious family’s teenage sons, with shades.

Well, Mike, honey, I guess this swamp’s as good as any place to dump a body. stated a girl, who was about 5’5" with mocha-colored skin, as she came out of the driver’s side and slammed the door. She was only sixteen but had the body of a twenty-one-year-old woman, as well as an enormous, round pudge for a stomach, and the baby she was carrying was Mike’s. Her perfectly round face was beautiful, but to look into her small, oval-shaped brown eyes was evidence that this was, in fact, an unequally yoked couple. Some Coppertowners would say Mike was a low-down, dirty pedophile who was taking advantage of the daughter of one of Coppertown’s farmers. To Glenda, the young damsel, that was far from the truth. She was in love, and no one could tell her any differently. He was hers, and she was his, and if anyone comes between that… just say DON’T.

Yes, it is, and that’s just what we’re going to do. Mike went to the back of his truck and pulled out a long, black, and very heavy sack.

Mike, what if someone finds the body? It’s only a matter of time before we get caught. We have a child to think about. And I may not know much, but I’m pretty sure a jail is no place to raise a kid. Glenda explained, rubbing a hand around her noticeably large belly.

Baby gal, I ain’t planning on taking us to jail, nor that child that you are carrying around. Trust me, Doll, crooned Mike with a smile.

Glenda blushed at this term of endearment. Mike could persuade her to do almost anything he wanted. It’s ludicrous how any member of the opposite sex could make a puppet out of someone they were surpassingly in love with, but maybe age had a lot to do with this.

Come here, Honey. Glenda beckoned Mike with one finger.

Gal, what’s wrong with you? Don’t you see what I am carrying? It sho’ ain’t no dang Christmas tree! retorted Mike.

Glenda began to pout. Well, I need some affection, Mike. I dunno, maybe it’s the dang hormones Dr. Barter told me about. Hurry up and do away with that body. It’s making me feel some way.

I did him, didn’t I Glenda? Man, he thought he was Mr. Big Stuff, but I put his lights out with Ol’ Jimmy, said Mike as he motioned with his head toward an old shotgun in the back of his truck. Mike began to laugh hysterically. Ha! You should’ve seen the look on your face when I blew his guts out. Looks like the map of United States of America on his kitchen wall.

After the imagery Mike placed in Glenda’s mind, she began to feel queasy. I was eating a block of cheese, for goodness’ sake! You could’ve done that in another room!

Mike continued laughing and taunting Glenda with a song. Didn’t I blow his mind this time? Didn’t I? OOOH! Mike hoisted the corpse over his shoulders while pretending to ballroom dance in circles.

Glenda glared at Mike in disbelief and said, Are you crazy? Get rid of it!

Mike stopped to look at Glenda with a pretend frown on his face. Aw, what’s the matter? You’re starting to care now?

Glenda gave Mike a mean glare and said, ’Don’t play me; you know the old man had it coming. You don’t see any tears in these eyes, do you?

Okay, then. Mike carried the body over to the gooey swamp. Yuck! It smells like a pig’s booty hole!

Good, no one would find the body. You know, half of these folks would not take their dogs for a walk here. Hell! They are scared to death to even travel down the road. I wonder if the urban legends are true, said Glenda as she looked over both shoulders as if someone was watching them.

Mike was too busy tying the corpse’s head and legs to cinderblocks to listen to Glenda’s rants about the town’s weird tales. Suddenly, like an alarm being set, the night creatures began their synchronized pattern of sounds from grasshoppers playing their violin legs to the hooting of owls calling in the night. Glenda, being warier to the sounds than Mike, began to panic.

Come on Mike, before Ole’ Woman Tressie appears and sucks the life out of both of us!

Mike let out a small chuckled and said, You and that crazy imagination of yours. Gal, you got the body of a playboy model but the brains of a child. You better be glad you are fine because I ‘would’ve left you a long time ago.

Glenda frowned at Mike’s harsh remarks. It was not as if she could help to be so young and in love with a grown man, but she knew better than to reply to his complaints. Glenda dismissed it from her mind and began walking away from the swamp to a huge weeping willow tree to lean on. She crossed her arms while Mike continued to fasten the body to the cinderblock. A sudden wind chill came and gently slapped Glenda on her face. As she turned her face to the direction the wind was going, she felt a slight touch of a finger tapping on her left shoulder. She quickly turned around and noticed it was just the willow’s long weeps touching her. She wanted so badly to tell Mike to hurry up, but she did not dare to do so.

Glenda stared out to the swamp, hoping to see the reflection of the moon, but instead seeing just a bleak, dark pool of gunk. Before Glenda could gaze at something more pleasant, something caught her attention. The phenomenon looked like a small, glowing green marble in the middle of the swamp. Glenda could not take her eyes off the spectacle entertaining her. It was as if she was put under an engrossed enchantment and she couldn’t take her eyes away from it even if she tried.

Okay…Nightie night and good riddance to you! said Mike as he heaved the body into the thick swamp. As the corpse went under the water, the swamp began to boil like a raging Jacuzzi reaching over 212˚celsius. Immediately, Mike stepped back and looked in amazement at the occurrence happening before him. Suddenly, he heard a piercing scream from his partner in crime. He followed the cry to the willow tree where she was leaning.

’What’s wrong, baby?! asked Mike in a panicky tone.

THE BABY… IT’S LIKE IT WANT TO COME OUT! Why is it doing this to me? Glenda cried, hysterically, while holding on to the side of her stomach.

Mike looked down to notice Glenda’s stomach pumping in and out. Mike quickly lifted Glenda’s shirt to examine her belly. Under the pale moonlight, he could make out a small imprint of a closed fist and foot trying to kick its way out of Glenda’s stomach. Mike pulled Glenda’s shirt down and escorted her to the car.

It’s okay, baby …do not worry. Let’s go to the hospital. We’re leaving.

Glenda looked at Mike, refusing to let him go, Please, let’s get out of here… Something is wrong with this place. Don’t ever come back here again, Mike. Please. Don’t. Ever. Glenda passed out in her seat.

Mike shook Glenda and repeated, Doll…. Doll…. Doll…

He buckled Glenda into her seatbelt and rush to his side of the truck. As he closed the door and turned the key to start the ignition, he quickly looked up to see an eerie figure skulking around the weeping willow tree where Glenda was leaning. He took a more in-depth look at it to see how it looked so much like an old, decrepit lady with long hair. She was holding her stomach the same way Glenda was holding hers, as if she was in pain. Suddenly, she was still as if she knew someone was watching her. She looked up slowly and stared directly in Mike’s direction. He dropped the bad-boy act quickly as he tried to shift his gear to reverse to turn his car around. The figure lifted its pointer finger toward the swamp and let out a loud shrilled scream, piercing enough to crack the Chevy’s windshield and to wake Glenda up from her unconscious state.

Like a zombie, Glenda arose stiffly from her seat as if she was a vampire waking up for a midnight snack. Glenda’s eyes were set on the figure, and she let out a horrendous scream. Mike quickly turned the truck around and pressed down hard on the gas. The speedy exit was in the same manner as the entrance, a smoke machine revealing their departure from Black Widow’s Swamp.

Chapter 2

Break up to Make up

2006 (30 years now)

I know I’ve been a jackass for the past five years, complained a young, insecure male on the other end of the phone.

Mm hmm, replied a fed-up Jessica. And don’t forget an insecure, self-absorb, arrogant, and non-committal grown man who lives his life based on what others feel about him.

"Okay, I kind of agree with that…but I can’t help but think about what I hear on the streets. My cousin, North, saw you with Seth Perkins at the game Saturday night.

No, your cousin saw Seth, along with his wife, talking to me at the game Saturday night. We were discussing practical things. For example, relationships… marriage… Kids! steamed Jessica.

Jessica sat in her master bedroom while her iPod set the morbid mood playing Break up to Make up by The Stylistics. She had been on the phone with her now ex-boyfriend for about two hours, listening to him beg her to take him back. Although the first two years were a romantic bliss for both, the other three years were on and off again like an old car refusing to die but also refusing to work. Jessica knew the cause of the situation, and it was apparent to her boyfriend, Ezekiel as well. The problem was Coppertown. Everyone had their opinion about Zeke and Jessica’s relationship. It was not easy dating the mayor of Coppertown’s son, and the fact that Mayor Zachariah Ackman was a part of some elite socialite club of Pickford County didn’t help as well.

Everyone who was anyone was a part of the exclusive club, Pickford Cabinet. The folks who loved them advocated for them in every fashion, and the folks who hated them fear them. The one thing that was common for all was the reverence they had for them. The Cabinets, for short, was involved in everything, from agricultural (#4 top best-selling in the state) to government politics. They were like the Utopian of Southern Pride, and the local natives were the indentured servants. Every decision and quid pro-quos were for them to decide or to react upon. Money was the visual representation of power, power strong enough to take away any one’s rights. Old money was the best because it semi- regulates Pickford County’s law and stands as a backbone to that person’s name alone. A cabinet could walk into any small or large establishments in Pickford county, and their name alone worked as a credit

Sadly, this was Zeke’s world, but not Jessica’s. In fact, their last names were juxtaposed like a Capulet to a Montague. Jessica’s mother, Glenda Winslow, was a part of that respected world until she went into a psychotic episode, which landed her in Pickford County Asylum when little Jessica was 10 years old. Glenda’s sister, Arica, became Jessica’s surrogate mother, and she was the most loving mother any child could ever have. She fed her, clothed her, cared for her, and sent her to Coppertone Academy Private School to get a top-notch education. Jessica knew her aunt was counting on her to become successful, maybe to even restore the Winslow’s name. Because of her love for seeking truth and knowledge as a child, she graduated from the University of South Carolina with a BA in History and Masters in Liberal Studies Leadership. She chose to move back home to work as an assistant curator of the Coppertown Monumental Museum. After a few years of excellent studies and oral presentations of the Rural South in America, she was promoted to the associate chief curator position. Jessica did well for herself, but not having her mom or dad in her life to share these experiences with her was miserable. Also, being in a relationship with a guy who refused to make her an honest woman was the worst.

Jess, you know how I feel about a serious commitment like that. I mean, we can’t even be in a healthy relationship long enough to jump that step, explained Zeke.

Well, who’s fault is that, Z? You love to listen to your no-good friends and family, never taking my word for it. You told me how they were saying I’m screwing everything and everyone in Pickford county, and you approve of this blasphemy? If I am the whore of Babylon, why are you still in my life? Tell me that!

Zeke sighed, I love you, Jessica and I always will. Ever since we were friends at Coppertown Academy to the point of us making it official five years ago, I’ve had your back. You must understand what I’m going through too. My father expects me to look my best, act my best, be my best—

And find the best, interrupted Jessica. Zeke, I am not the perfect candidate for your father, but I wanted you, I loved you, but you couldn’t respect that. The fact that you are entertaining your father’s nonsense about finding the best proves that you think you are better than I am.

That’s not true, Jessica. You mean the world to me! But I can’t help it when my phone is ringing off my belt clip about you or people in the community telling me to stay away from you because you are bad news…what do you want me to think? Zeke’s voice was cracking up on the phone.

As Zeke was talking, Jessica began to shed tears over the phone, but she did not want him to know she was still weak for him. Instead, she sat up in the bed and in a clear voice, responded, Goodbye Zeke and threw the phone across the queen-sized bed. She hit replay and volume to listen to The Stylistics once more, and she smothered her sorrows in her pillows

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Knock

Ding Dong

Knock

The sounds from the knocking and the doorbell woke Jessica up from her last night Friday slumber to Saturday morning. She played her iPod all night until all the energy was gone. She charged her device and checked her phone. There were 24 missed calls from Zeke and 5 from her Aunt Arica.

Figures, she mumbled. She sluggishly got out of bed to answer the door to her one-bedroom apartment. As she reached for the doorknob, she suddenly had the right mind to look through her door hole to see who was at the door. She did not have the time for Zeke to reenact a scene from the movie Say Anything, which was her favorite movie.

Gal open up this door. This me! yelled a female voice from the other side of the door.

Who’s me? Jessica asked, knowing well who was at the door.

Gal, if you don’t open up this door, I’ll show you who’s me! threatened the voice.

Jessica began to smile and shook her head as she opened the door for her Aunt Arica to come in.

Hey Auntie, how are you? asked Jessica as she dived in to give her aunt a huge hug.

Hey, baby…how are you? Aunt Arica gave Jessica a huge hug and walk into the apartment as if she owns the place. She sat in her favorite lounge chair in the living room and turned on the television. What you got to drink, baby?

Jessica knew what her aunt was really asking for, and it wasn’t for a glass of lemonade or tea. Her aunt was the most impressive, boisterous, funniest, and honest mother figure there was, but her appetite for liquor was never satiated. She refused to quit. Aunt Arica had trophies from pubs that reads Best Beer Pong Player in Coppertown. Whether if that was the most impeccable or shameful accolade to acquire, she didn’t care if she found solace in a bottle or a glass. Despite this terrible habit, she was a gorgeous forty-eight-year-old woman with medium jet-black hair, and brown, oval-shaped eyes like her sister, Glenda. She was a little on the plus-size, but men found her to be very attractive, especially her full lips, which she loved to embellish it with fuchsia color lipstick.

Jessica went to her fridge to see what was left of the Merlot and noticed it was half full. Only water, Aunt Arica.

Water? hell, I know that Merlot is still in your fridge.

How do you figure? questioned Jessica.

Cause’ I know you, that’s how. Now hook me up with a glass and don’t be stingy with it.

Jessica took down two wine glasses from the hooks attached above the sink and rinse it out. She went to the fridge to fetch the Merlot and pour a moderate amount in both glasses. She gave her aunt her drink, and she took hers and sat on her black leather sofa.

How’s that bae of yours? asked Arica while taking more than a sip of wine.

Wow, auntie, you just dive in, don’t you? You’re not going to ask how I’ve been or what I’ve been up to?

Arica looked up from her wine, Why the small talk? You know that I’m a cut-to-the-chase type of person. So again, how’s your man?

Tired…he’s just tired…I broke it off with him. I can’t deal with any more of his crazy drama, father drama, Coppertown’s drama, etc. Jessica ranted on while gesturing her glass as if it was a windmill.

Well, good! I didn’t like his uppity ass no way! You know he’s seeing that broad Yarnie.

Jessica raised her eyebrows, Who’s Yarnie?

You know Yarnie…that snobbish young heifer from Ellington, Arica stopped to take a sip of her drink then continued, Her father’s the mayor of that town.

Oh! You mean Yarnise? Really? When?

Gal, I’m older than you, and I got the 4-1-1 on everything. How in the world you didn’t know that? I heard they were going together for about a month. Probably longer than that!

Oh Auntie, you know I could care two-cents about the rumors that spread in town. You don’t even know if that’s true or not. Someone probably told you that because you’re my aunt and they know you will run it by me.

Honey, rather if it’s true or not, you still need to run it by him, especially if he loves to accuse you of whoring around town. I mean, look at you! You’re as plain as those Mary Janes you wear to work all the time, stated Arica.

Jessica was offended but not surprised at her aunt’s critique of her and wished her aunt was demurer about it. If Jessica put in the time and effort to do a make-over, she would undeniably look like a milk-chocolate shade of Gabrielle union with the physique. Her long, wavy dark-brown hair was kept in a tiresome bun, and she wore reading glasses to minimize the seductiveness of her grey-colored eyes she inherited from her father. She inherited her mother’s oval eyes and round face with full cheeks ready to be pinched.

I mean…I’m sorry to insult you, baby but your hairstyle is whack, your clothes are whack, and your shoe game looks like something from my mom’s closet. You look like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I don’t know if you’re trying to catch a man or a tornado, girl. No wonder that man is running away from you.

Jessica rolled her eyes. Auntie, I’m just not into that whole hootchie-mama ratchet gear. I am comfortable with my plaids and cobbler shoes…Thank you very much!

I’m not saying to dress like a whore, Jessica. I dress more 2000 than you, boo. I mean, come on! You have a stunning shape beneath those heavy throw rugs. Show something for the women to envy and for the men to swoon, baby. You need to let me hook you up with my stylist, Vikki. You know that girl does wonders all over. You’ll find humps where you never thought you had. Heck, if I was a 30 -year-old with a Naomi Campbell body, you would find my face on milk cartons.

Jessica laughed at her aunt’s description of her. As far as she was concerned, keeping the best hygiene was the only thing she could manage to do. Auntie, you are a mess. I’m okay with my discreet humps being covered by my heavy throw rugs. Let it stay a Victoria’s Secret.

Mmm…Victoria would not want that hideous secret. You’ll get kicked out of the shop immediately. Your membership would be automatically revoked.

Only you would insult me early in the morning. That’s why you came to see me? To talk about my sense of style?

No, because you don’t have the appealing sense. Now, pour me another, Arica gave Jessica her empty glass and reclined back in the chair. And that daddy of his ain’t no good himself. Always throwing mean slangs at me. I thought about giving him a good one in his face, but I was in the prayer line at the time trying to get right with my creator.

Jessica jumped up in shocked and looked down at her aunt. You went to church, Aunt Arica?

Arica looked up at Jessica as if she had two heads. Gal, yea! I go to church… when the occasion calls for it. Everyone goes to church baby. Church ain’t supposed to be no secret society club like the Cabinets. No, everyone is welcome…to the weed heads to the crackheads…to the alkies to the pill poppers. Gawd can do all and heal all. Best believe it! Now hurry up with my drink!

Jessica walked away in disbelief and went to pour her aunt another drink. When she came back to hand it to her, Arica was sobbing quietly to herself.

Thank you, baby. Thank you. Lawd knows I don’t need this. Arica tipped the glass to get a sip.

Then why drink so much, Auntie? I mean no offense, but you are a beautiful, intelligent, and talented woman, you have a great career in nursing, and in your spare time, you love to help at the soup kitchen. Why do you need to abuse yourself like that? Jessica asked in a compassion tone.

Baby…there’s some things in life that are too hard not to think about but also hard to explain. I think about your mom and—

Jessica let out a huge sigh and open her patio door to get some air. Aunt Arica got up with her drink and follow her outside.

I know you don’t want to hear about your mom, baby, but she is my baby sister, and I love her. There are some things that you will never understand…

Like what? Jessica spun around to her aunt. I can count on one hand how many times I went to see her in that place, and each time she would turn her head away from me. When I tried to reach out for some affection, she would just jerk away and screamed, ‘Satan!’ and spit on me. I just don’t understand it! Tears began to gather in Jessica’s eyes.

Arica’s face began to soften, Baby, your mama was so young when she had you. She was a child herself. Something happened to her one night when she was out with that trifling daddy of yours. Folks said they went out to that God-forsaken place Black Widow Swamp, Arica stopped talking to tremble, Just saying the name of that place gives me the creeps.

Jessica looked at Arica strangely, How did you know where they went to? Besides, the stories made up about that place is bogus. Clearly made up!

Arica engulfed the rest of her wine. Ha! I guess everyone should listen to you since you are like the city historian/curator, right? I called that textbook sense, but honey, some spirits in this world can’t be seen with just the naked eye, Arica turned to look at Jessica slowly and said, Any locals could tell if you been down that dusty trail. The eyes don’t tell any lies. I’ve seen your mom sneak out many nights to be with your father, even after our papa told her not to. Glenda being Glenda wouldn’t listen. But this one morning, when I was helping mother with breakfast, Glenda came in the kitchen as if she was a zombie and sat down at the table. I didn’t know who or what she was staring at, but her eyes were just stuck in one direction. Mom knew something wasn’t right, I did too. I was 15 at the time, and I knew all about the horrors of that place and the power it gives its victim. All the kids were told to stay away from it. The terror in her eyes told on her, she didn’t have to speak.

Where was your father? inquired Jessica.

"Oh, papa…that Rollin’ stone. Mom said he was out making sales at the Farmer’s Market. Papa was a well-respected and prosperous farmer