Code-Switching

by Zena Wynn

  As Catherine, I was on board with the professional part of the program. I had dreams and goals of my own. Not only did I want to reach the glass ceiling, I wanted to blow it wide open. What I hadn’t decided was if Zach would be a help or a hindrance. There was no doubt that being married would help Zach’s career, but would it cause mine to stall? Would the powers that be think that once I was married, I’d be content to put my career ambitions on hold, support my husband, and settle down to be a good little wife and mother?

  Fuck that!

  Problem number two was that sometimes I got tired of being Catherine and simply wanted to be Tikki. Zach wouldn’t understand Tikki, not with his background. I needed a man who could embrace all of me—past, present, and future. As much as I liked and was attracted to him on a physical and personal level, I didn’t think Zach was that man.

  I’d pretty much decided to decline his proposal. My hesitation in already doing so was that I didn’t know how my saying no would affect our work relationship. As a team, our work was stellar and even the brass was taking note. I didn’t want sour feelings to put an end to it. Something I should have considered before accepting his first date invitation.

  If I allowed Jamie to live with me, I might not have to say no. I’d seen the expression on Zach’s face when Jamie had made his request, and heard the unspoken disapproval in his voice when he’d questioned me later about my answer. Since I’d never let a man come between me and my child, Zach’s opinion on the matter wasn’t even a consideration.

  I needed to find out what had prompted Jamie’s request. As far as Jamie and the rest of the world were concerned, Jamie was my younger brother. Only Ma and a few others knew or remembered who’d actually birthed him. Once Jamie got old enough, I’d sit him down and tell him the truth.

  In the meantime, as I’d grown older and earned enough money, I’d taken over his financial support. It satisfied me to know I put the roof over his head, paid for the clothes on his back, the shoes on his feet, and the food he put into his belly. He already spent most weekends with me so Ma could work without worrying about leaving him home unattended.

  Ma was a waitress in one of the strip clubs. She made good tips working three nights a week, and it’s where she met the majority of her men. I didn’t like any of them. Ma had terrible taste when it came to the opposite sex. Most likely because she was more attracted to what they could do for her than their qualities as a human being.

  I kept a close eye on who she brought around Jamie. Remembering the type of men I’d been exposed to as an adolescent and what had happened to me as a result, she knew I wouldn’t tolerate the same happening to him. I’m sure Ma was home right now sweating bullets, wondering what her decision to let Deke interact with Jamie would cost her.

  She should be afraid. Very afraid. I wasn’t the child I used to be. I was even more dangerous now.

  I headed into the bedroom to strip off my suit. Earlier in the day, I’d put out a bunch of feelers to my peeps in the old neighborhood. I hadn’t checked my text messages since returning to the office because I worked hard to keep Tikki separated from Catherine. Today’s slip couldn’t be repeated.

  Pulling out my cell phone, I read all of the text messages that had come through. With each one, the scowl on my face grew deeper as anger flared. I typed out a quick response to set up a meet, and then tossed the phone on the bed.

  Without care or concern for the expensive fabric, I ripped off my business suit and quickly changed clothes. I put on a pair of dark jeans and a navy-blue, basic, long-sleeved crew neck tee that came to my hips. Over it I wore a black hoodie to compensate for the dropping temperatures.

  Inside of the bathroom, I washed off the neutral toned makeup and put on my Tikki face—black eyeliner, plum eyeshadow, bronzer to highlight my cheeks, and deep plum lipstick on my lips. In my ears, I exchanged the discreet gold stud earrings for gold hoops. I pulled the pins out of my business appropriate updo and braided the thick, wavy mass of hair into one single braid down the center of my scalp. I looped the ends around and pinned it up out of my way, just in case things got physical tonight.

  Returning to the bedroom, I slid my feet into a pair of black work boots and tied the laces. Personal items, including my gun, went into a small backpack. With my train pass inside my jean’s pocket, I was ready to go.

  I detoured into the kitchen for a bottle of water just as a knock sounded at my door. After grabbing the water and inserting it into my pack, I made sure I had my keys accessible and went to the door. It was probably my neighbor across the way, Mrs. Gayle. The Jamaican family felt it their business to look after me, and Jamie was a frequent visitor in her home when he was here.

  When I opened it without glancing through the peephole, I don’t know who was more surprised—Zach or me. “What are you doing here?”

  He arched one elegant eyebrow. “Going somewhere?”

  This was Zach as I’d never seen him. Gone was the expensive business suit. In its place, he wore a pair of well-worn jeans and a semi-loose t-shirt that still managed to emphasize his muscular frame. He’d paired them with a leather jacket and shit-kicker boots that looked like the real deal. The bad boy look fit him well, as though it was his natural attire and the suit merely a skin he wore to fit in the business world.

  He stood there, keys jingling as I scanned him from head-to-toe. When my gaze returned to his face, I found he’d been doing the same to me. “You look...scrumptious, but you didn’t answer my question. Looks like I caught you just as you were headed out.”

  I ignored his question to repeat mine. “Why are you here?”

  We didn’t have the type of relationship that allowed him to show up on my doorstep unannounced. Not only had I never been to his place, I had no clue where Zach lived.

  “I thought I’d see if I could interest you in dinner,” he said.

  “Sorry, I have plans.” I stepped into the hallway, turned, and locked the door. Zach didn’t step back to give me room, so his body was plastered against my back.

  “Where are you going? Maybe I can join you,” he said.

  “No.” Without another word, I headed down the hall toward the elevator.

  “Date with another man?” he asked, quickly catching up to me.

  “No.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I tag along,” he said as I pushed the button to call the elevator.

  I opened my mouth to object, but hesitated. A little voice inside of my head said, ‘Let him see who you really are and where you’re from. Maybe you won’t have to reject his proposal. He’ll withdraw it, and you won’t have to deal with his wounded ego.’

  Cutting him a sideways glance, I took in the determination stamped onto his features. I let a little of the Bronx slip into my voice as I asked, “You sure you want to do that?”

  “Yes.” The corner of his mouth crooked in a smile that told me this was payback for my one-word responses.

  I shrugged and cocked an eyebrow. “Suit yourself. Since you invited yourself, you have to pay your own subway fare.”

  “Not a problem.” We both stepped into the elevator as the doors opened. “Where are we headed?”

  I smiled. “South Bronx.”

  Chapter Six

  Tikki

  “It will take too long to get there by train. I can drive,” Zach offered.

  I smirked inwardly. “Where we’re going, they’d have your fancy car stripped less than five minutes after we walk off. Still want to drive?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Suit yourself,” I repeated.

  “I intend to,” he said.

  The elevator arrived on the first floor, and the doors opened to reveal Mrs. Gayle standing there waiting. She glanced from Zach to me as we stepped out of the elevator and said in patois, “Who’s the young man?”

  I answered in the same language. “This is my coworker, Zach.”

  “Isn’t he the young man you’ve been dating recently?” she asked, a knowing smile on h
er face. “Introduce me.”

  I turned to Zach and said in English, “Zach, this is my neighbor, Mrs. Gayle. Mrs. Gayle, this is my coworker, Zachery Anderson.”

  Zach held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  As Mrs. Gayle shook his hand, she gave him the once over. To me, she said in patois, “Nice looking, good manners, and I’ve seen his car. Looks like a good catch. Hold onto him.”

  I rolled my eyes and said in English, “We gotta go.” I made to maneuver around her and stopped abruptly. If I didn’t tell her Jamie was in the hospital, I’d never hear the end of it. “Jamie was transported to the hospital today. He’s okay, but he got caught in a drive by shooting.”

  Mrs. Gayle’s eyes widened in distress. “Oh, no. I tell you, I don’t know what the world is coming to. You tell him I asked about him.”

  “I will,” I promised.

  She entered the elevator and we proceeded toward the door.

  “What language was that? It didn’t sound like Spanish,” Zach said as we pushed through the double glass doors.

  “Patois,” I said.

  “You’re very fluent.” I could hear his underlying question.

  “My father was Jamaican. My mother is Puerto Rican. My paternal grandmother raised me until she died when I was eleven,” I said, willing to give him that much.

  “Your heritage is very diverse,” Zach said, sounding impressed.

  I waited for the usual questions—Why did your grandmother raise you? How did your father die?—but none came. Since he didn’t ask, I didn’t volunteer. When we got down to the street, I glanced around. “I don’t see your car.”

  “I brought the bike.” Zach indicated a large motorcycle sitting at the curb. “You know how to ride?”

  Both of my eyebrows rose as I glanced from the Harley to him. I’d have never pegged him as a biker. He seemed too refined. Maybe it was a hobby? Lots of guys bought motorcycles because they thought it made them look macho. I took another glance at his leather jacket and boots and reconsidered.

  “Yes, I’ve been on bikes before,” I said.

  Zach grinned. “Somehow, that news doesn’t surprise me.”

  He unlocked the compartment attached to the backseat rest and pulled out a motorcycle helmet. “Here, put this on.” Zach gave my attire a critical glance. “I don’t suppose you have a leather jacket upstairs? When I imagined our ride tonight, I didn’t think we’d be going all the way to the Bronx.”

  “No, I don’t. I can go back in and grab a heavier jacket.”

  He considered before shaking his head. “You might be warm enough in that. Stay snug against my back and slide your hands into my jacket pockets to keep them warm. My body will cut most of the wind. You should be good.”

  Zach helped me fasten the helmet once it was on my head. After putting on his helmet and leather gloves, he straddled the bike. He motioned for me to climb on and held it steady while I did. I placed my feet on the footrests and got comfortable.

  He reached behind himself and dragged me closer. “Don’t be shy. Stay just like this. Lean when I lean,” he said in the helmet mike.

  My thighs were spread wide around his hips, and my chest was plastered to his back. The bike thrummed to life beneath me, and the vibration traveled through my core.

  “Remember, you can put your hands in my pockets,” Zach said as he guided my right hand inside his right pocket. I did the same to my left, knowing my fingers would be frozen by the wind otherwise. I held on tight to his waist as we eased away from the curb.

  I didn’t speak as we took the hour drive into South Bronx. Motorcycles weren’t the safest mode of transportation. I didn’t want Zach distracted, especially since I didn’t know his proficiency level as a motorcyclist. We wove in and out of traffic, competing for road space with cars, buses, trucks, and taxi cabs. Occasionally, pedestrians took their lives into their own hands by playing chicken with the bike.

  When we neared our destination, I began giving directions. Hunts Point was one of the poorest neighborhoods in the Bronx borough. The prostitution and drug addiction rate was so prevalent, they’d done an HBO special on it. The population consisted mostly of Hispanics, with a high concentration of Puerto Ricans. It was a mix of residential and industrial buildings. Though certain areas were beginning to gentrify, the section we were headed into hadn’t.

  As we rode through the neighborhood, Spanish music blasted from businesses. Street vendors hustled their wares on sidewalks, keeping a close eye out for thieves. Traffic was busy, and the sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians. On side streets, prostitutes stood on corners or walked the streets, calling out enticements for business as we rode by.

  We pulled to a stop outside of a derelict-looking warehouse. The single-story building was made of red brick. One single light was mounted on the building above the closed garage door. A group of guys standing outside near a trashcan with a fire burning in it gave us wary looks. To get inside, you had to walk past them.

  Before they could start trouble, I removed my helmet and looked at them. I saw their shoulders relax when they recognized me.

  “Yo, Tikki. Who’s your friend?” Jose asked.

  “His name is Zach.” I climbed off the bike and bounced a few times to increase blood flow to my legs. They’d gotten stiff during the long ride.

  Zach dropped the kick stand and smoothly dismounted the bike. He took both our helmets and stored them. The black Harley-Davidson gleamed in the light. The guys eyed him, checking him and the bike out.

  “Sweet ride,” Jose said.

  “Thanks,” Zach said.

  “Is Luis inside?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he said to send you in when you got here,” Jose said. Jose was Luis’s second-in-command.

  I headed for the door with Zach on my heels. If the thuggish-looking guys made him nervous, it didn’t show. My estimation of Zach increased by the minute.

  We walked inside the repair shop. Latin music blasted from wall-mounted speakers. Cars in various stages of being tricked out filled the bay. I walked past them to the gathering area in the back.

  When I stepped through the door, Luis looked up from the bar. “Tikki!”

  He crossed over to me, caught me with one arm by the waist, and planted a kiss on my lips. I returned the kiss and added a hug, despite Zach’s growling. Once, long ago, Luis had been my lover but now he was a good friend.

  Luis released me and glanced past me to Zach. “Who’s your company?”

  “Her old man,” Zach said before I could answer. He used the back of my jacket to tug me away from Luis.

  Since I didn’t have time to entertain Zach’s male ego, I jumped straight into my business. “Tell me,” I demanded.

  Luis looked around at the other guys and females in the room. “Get out!”

  They immediately rose from the couches they’d been perched on and left the room. Luis glanced at Zach. “He good? You trust him?”

  His question caused me to pause, and I turned to look at Zach. If this were a work situation, my trust in him would be absolute. However, this was personal, and possibly illegal.

  “I’m staying,” Zach said. His expression, stance, and demeanor said if I wanted him out of here, someone would have to carry him. Zach’s urban polish fell away to reveal something more dangerous.

  Luis ignored Zach. “Tikki?”

  Zach’s demanding gaze stared into mine, and I felt something between us shift.

  “Yes, he’s good,” I heard myself say to Luis.

  Chapter Seven

  Zach

  This was clearly a street gang’s headquarters. The room was clean and filled with furniture from thrift stores and roadside rejects. Luis appeared to be my age or a little older, and from the way the others jumped to obey his commands, he was the man in charge.

  I hadn’t liked the familiar way he’d placed his hands and lips on Catherine, or the way she’d allowed it. We’d definitely be discussing it later. Until she gave me a
n answer to my marriage proposal, she was mine and I didn’t share.

  “Sit down,” Luis said, motioning to the couches which were arranged in a loose square.

  Catherine sat on one, and I settled next to her. Luis took one across from us.

  “Deke’s in the wind. He’s messed up in some wicked shit and got on the wrong side of some really bad dudes,” Luis said.

  “I thought he came here to score,” Catherine said, eyebrows drawn together.

  Luis shook his head. “That’s not the word on the street. Deke ‘acquired’ a load of pure grade heroine and is looking for buyers. I heard that’s the least of his sins. The hit today was retaliation.”

  “That motherfucker stole someone’s shit and had my brother walking around with him?” she stormed, the Bronx so strong she was barely intelligible.

  Luis nodded. “Yeah. Tell your mom to be careful if he shows up. How’s Jamie?”

  “Mending.” Catherine’s leg jiggled as she bounced it. “So, you have no idea where he is or who was behind the shooting?”

  Luis stared at her. “I know, but I’m not telling you.”

  “Why not?” she said, temper sparking.

  “Be grateful I told you this much and leave this shit alone. You got out. Don’t do nothing to fuck it up. I ain’t coming to visit you in Rikers,” Luis said.

  “You know that’s not how we roll. You fuck with one of us, and we fuck you up,” Catherine said.

  Damn, I loved her viciousness. This woman was born to be mine.

  Luis shook his head. “Listen to me. You know I’ll tell you straight. The people on Deke’s trail? He’ll be smoked soon enough. I would have gone after him myself for Jamie, but there’s no need. I’m telling you, let it go.”

  She hopped up and paced, hands clenching into and out of fists. “This shit pisses me off.”