by Briana Cole
“I mean, it’s late. I’m tired, you’re tired. And I’m on JayJay duty tonight.” He flipped his eyes toward the baby monitor. “You know he’ll be up in a few hours so I need to catch a little bit of sleep.”
Trying to change tactics, I massaged his chest and leaned down to kiss him. I could feel his body responding, his bulge hardening between my thighs, so why the hell was he fighting me? “Just let me love you, Jahmad,” I whispered before slipping my tongue between his lips.
For a brief moment, it felt like he would cooperate, and I deepened the kiss. But then he pulled back and turned a bit, nudging me off his body. I slunk to my side of the bed.
“Jahmad. Do you even still love me?” I had asked.
He leaned up and pecked me, not kissed but pecked me on my lips and then my forehead. “Why you asking questions you already know the answer to?”
But did I know the answer to that? Did I really? And as he rolled over again, I watched his back and realized he hadn’t answered the question.
Then, to make matters worse, I couldn’t sleep, so I’d gotten up to check on Jamaal. He was sleeping just fine, just like Jahmad. Apparently my mind was the only one keeping me awake.
I had come back into the master bedroom to find Jahmad’s phone illuminating the darkened room. I glanced at the clock next to the phone on the nightstand, narrowed my eyes at the digits flipping to 11:23 p.m.
I tried to swallow the suspicion, but my feet carried me closer to his side of the bed. By now, his screen was black again, but still the missed call notification light blinked in the corner of the phone. I looked at Jahmad, still sleeping soundly, and without another thought, I swiped a quick finger over the screen to bring the device back to life.
Two missed calls and a text message I couldn’t read. The contact had been saved as “Baby” with a heart emoji. I stepped back, not knowing if I wanted to cry or take the bedside lamp and bash it over his damn head. Either way, I had slept in the baby’s room, and as soon as morning light broke, I’d called my mother and asked if she could come over and babysit so I could work from the store today. She’d known something was wrong, but she didn’t ask, and I hadn’t volunteered.
Now, it was nearing ten a.m., I had this website to review and return to the designer, an interview for a cashier coming in at lunch, model calls this afternoon, and I hadn’t done a damn thing but harp on the same question over and over until it burned in my brain. Who the hell was Jahmad’s “baby”? The second thought, which probably hurt even worse, was that Jahmad was back to his cheating, womanizing ways. He hadn’t changed a damn bit. And damned if it didn’t hurt. My love, our love was not enough to keep him out of another woman’s arms.
The knock on my door snapped me from my mini nervous breakdown, and I blinked back tears. I put on a professional face, hoping to mask the sadness. It was futile, I knew, because if it was Adria on the other side of the door, she would be able to tell easily.
“Come in.”
Thank God. It was Tyree. Adria and I had agreed that the man had been doing such a good job that now that she was back, he needed to stay on as the store manager. Neither of us had to worry about much because we knew Tyree had it. He was truly a godsend.
He stepped into my office, a folder in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. “You looked like you could use this, boo,” he said, setting the glass on my desk.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s ten in the morning.”
“I know I should’ve brought it by earlier,” he said before handing me the folder. “Your interview is here.”
I took the folder, not realizing I had let a heavy sigh slip from my lips.
“You know what? How about I take care of this for you?” Tyree said gently.
I looked up, grateful. Lord knows I didn’t feel like interviewing. Or really doing anything other than sitting alone in my office wallowing in my sorrows. “You sure, Tyree? I can—”
“Chile, I got it.” He took the folder back. “No problem. Let me be the store manager. You, you just sit there and look pretty, boo.”
Now I knew he was teasing because as hastily as I’d thrown on some jeans and a blouse, not even a lick of makeup, I knew I looked anything but. Still, the compliment had me grinning anyway.
Tyree left me, and I took a grateful sip of the white wine, letting the flavors settle on my tongue.
Picking up my cell, I dialed my mother’s number for the third time that morning.
“He’s fine, Kimmy,” she greeted. “I told him Mommy wouldn’t be able to go long without checking in again.”
I smirked. “What is he doing?”
“I was going to have him change the oil in my car. What do you think he’s doing, sweetheart? He eats and sleeps. These are the golden years, so if I were you, I would enjoy. You won’t get more until after he turns thirty.”
“Well, tell him Mommy said hey and I love him.”
“Say ‘hey, Mommy,’” she cooed, and I could hear him sucking on his bottle. My smile widened, picturing his large, curious stare at the phone my mom was probably holding to his face.
“I’ll be leaving here soon,” I said, glancing at the clock on my wall. Not even noon yet.
“Don’t rush on my account,” my mom insisted. “I checked in with your father. He’s at home resting and says he’s fine. So we’re good here.”
“Is Daddy any better?” I said, worry filling my voice.
“He’s getting better now that I’ve convinced him to stay home. That man is so stubborn, I swear.”
“And here I was thinking Keon and I got it from you.”
That startled a laugh from my mom. “Girl, I was about to read you some scripture. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and shook my head. “Read me some scripture” meant curse me out in my mother’s language.
I was thankful she seemed to be in better spirits. Both of my parents, actually. Every time I brought up them selling the church, they both would get tight-lipped before shutting down the conversation. But it seemed their decision was final.
Thanks to me, and no, they didn’t place blame, but I knew it was absolutely because of me, my dad’s church had lost credibility. Even the assistant pastor wanted to venture elsewhere to start his own church, disassociated from them, because everyone felt my poly relationship with Leo was completely hypocritical. What was left of the congregation had already been encouraged to seek other church families to become involved with because my parents would be selling the church building and using the proceeds to fund other congregations to support mission work. My mom did mention there was an interested buyer who wanted to turn the building into a headquarters for international refugee assistance programs, which I guess was a good thing. But it did little to make me feel better, no matter how much my folks tried to shed light on the bright side. “Oh, your dad will be able to enjoy retirement. Oh, it will give us more time to travel and be grandparents. Oh, it was only a matter of time, Kimmy. We knew this time would come sooner or later.” Yeah, they both had shared their comfort, and the guilt had been eating me up even worse.
Another knock on my door brought me out of my daze. Tyree strolled back in already shaking his head.
“What?”
“Glad we didn’t waste your time with that one, boo.” He tossed the folder in my shred pile. “She was most certainly not what we were looking for.”
I nodded absently, not really caring. I had three more interviews scheduled for later that week anyway.
Tyree frowned at me. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really,” I admitted. Between Jahmad and my parents, I knew I was no good right then. My only reprieve was that I hadn’t heard from Leo since the day I brought Jamaal home from the hospital. I really didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, though.
“You should go home,” Tyree suggested. “I got things here. Plus I think Mrs. Adria wanted to stop by later.”
I nodded. I sure as hell wasn’t being productive, that’s for sure. That damn
number in Jahmad’s phone was fresh on my mind. Now I distrusted everything the man was doing or saying. Hell, was he even at work? Part of me wanted to drop by his job just to see for myself. Maybe I could cover it up by pretending I wanted to drop by and bring him lunch. But then again, the mature part of me was afraid of his reaction, more afraid of what I’d find. But curiosity, or was it determination, apparently outweighed that fear because I was already pushing back from the desk. Perhaps I needed to prove not Jahmad wrong but myself.
Jahmad worked on the north side of Atlanta, in a mid-rise IT building nestled among other stuccos in a corporate complex with huge windows and atrium lobbies.
I wheeled my car into the crowded parking area, already scanning the lot for Jahmad’s truck. When I didn’t see it, I parked, sighing in relief when I read the clearly marked Visitor Parking sign at the entrance. He must be in some off-site employee parking. I grabbed the Subway bag I had stopped to get along the way and headed for the building. I had never been to Jahmad’s office but the name of his company along with a simple Google search had me in the right place.
The female security guard at the front desk tossed a bored look in my direction as I breezed through the glass doors.
“Good morning. I’m looking for Jahmad Washington,” I said. She waited as if I was supposed to tell her more. I held up the Subway bag. “Just want to bring him lunch.”
“Sign in,” she instructed, sliding the clipboard in my direction. I did as I was told, scribbling my name on the sheet of paper. A thought crossed my mind, and I looked at the woman’s plain face, still sagging with nonchalance.
“Hey, I’m opening up a cosmetic store,” I started my pitch while reaching into my purse. “And I’m trying to build up some interest. You know how it can be for us black women.” I held out my card in her direction. “Not sure if you’re into makeup, but if you are, my grand opening is in two weeks. I would love for you to stop by, and I will definitely give you a discount on some of my products. Even a makeup session if you want.” As expected, that had her face brightening as she happily accepted my card.
“Girl, thank you,” she gushed. “Yes, I will surely be by. It’s so hard to find time to pamper myself as a single mother with four kids.”
I nodded my understanding. “Absolutely.” Then I went in for the kill by adding, “Would it be too much trouble for you to call and see what floor Mr. Washington is on? Please?”
My plan worked. The little makeup chat had warmed her up, and she quickly snatched up her desk phone. “Girl, of course. No problem.”
I waited patiently as she called around, taking in the light traffic through the lobby. People bustled by in and out of the elevators, heels clicking on the marble floor.
I heard the guard hang up, and I turned to the desk once more. “Sixth floor,” she revealed. “But his secretary says he’s off today.”
The news had my mind flipping back to this morning. Had he said he was off? I remembered him getting ready for work as my mom showed up and I was leaving the house. No, he hadn’t said specifically he was going to work. But his work clothes were laid out on the bed, and he was up at six a.m., like usual on a Thursday morning. Where else would he be going?
I thanked the guard for her help and left the building, throwing the food away in a nearby trash can with every ounce of anger I was feeling.
* * *
A distant car door slam had me unfolding from the couch and running to the window. Sure enough, Jahmad was getting out of his truck. At 8:26 p.m. at that. He stood outside for a few moments longer, wrapping up a call. And by the look of his smile, obviously a pleasure call. The bastard had some nerve.
I had left his office earlier and had been calling the man nonstop since. The first few times it would ring before going to voicemail until eventually it didn’t even ring. He was ignoring me and he had only fueled my anger. Now, the baby was fed and asleep, I had poured one glass of wine too many, so whether I was overreacting or not, Jahmad was about to catch all of this hell.
“Where were you?” I snapped before he had even closed the door behind him.
Jahmad seemed surprised to see me standing there in the entryway. “Kimmy, what are you talking about?”
“I came to your job today. Call myself being a sweet girlfriend and bringing you lunch,” I tossed in there to make it sound good. “And lo and behold, you weren’t there. I’ve been calling you like crazy and you haven’t been answering.” I heard the slight slur in my words, and obviously he did too because he smirked and shook his head.
“Get some sleep, Kim. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
His nonchalant attitude only heightened my anger. I stood in front of him, jabbing my finger in his chest. “No, we are going to talk about this shit right now. I’m tired of you half-assing this relationship.”
I heard my phone ring somewhere in the living room, but stubbornness had my feet planted right in his path.
Jahmad took hold of my wrist, his grip gentle but firm. “Kimera,” he spoke calmly. “You need to calm down and sleep off whatever the hell has got you trippin’.”
I snatched my arm from his fingers. “Why weren’t you at work?”
“I never said I was going to work.”
“Well, where were you? With ‘baby’?”
I couldn’t tell whether the confusion was genuine or an effort to hide his shock that I knew about the mystery caller. “Yeah, I saw your phone last night, Jahmad,” I went on, growing even more furious when I felt the hot tears soaking my cheeks. What the hell was I crying for? “You’re cheating on me again, aren’t you?”
Now it was Jahmad’s phone ringing, and he pulled it from his pocket as I barreled on. “Oh, is that your precious baby? Your precious bitch?”
He turned, putting the phone to his ear, and it took everything in me not to beat my fists on his back.
“Hold on,” he said and held the phone out to me. “Adria has been looking for you. She says it’s an emergency.”
I had a few more choice words for Jahmad on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back and took the phone. “Hey, girl.”
“Kimmy, where have you been? I’ve been calling you like crazy. We have to get down to the store. There was a fire . . .”
Chapter 9
Flames licked the sky, illuminating with bright orange and red that lit up the area like the Fourth of July. A population of spectators collected on the street watching as firefighters worked to hose down the enflamed building. My building. The reality had me choked up. Or perhaps it was the smoke. Either way, I could only watch in horror as the fire ate Melanin Mystique down to charred wood.
Adria had met me on the scene, and she now stood beside me shoulder-to-shoulder with only a jacket over her negligee to shield her skin from the night air.
“Damn, what happened?”
I turned at the panicked voice as Tyree jogged up to stand beside me. Though it was night, he was fully dressed, evidence that he’d come straight over from the club or some nighttime rendezvous.
“I don’t know. I was going to ask you. Did you close?”
“No, I did,” Adria spoke up, shaking her head in disbelief. “Tyree had plans, so I sent him on early because I knew I had some things to finish up. I left about six-thirty.”
My mind flipped to everything inside. Completely destroyed. Every piece of makeup I had hand-selected, spent months finding a place, then stocking everything inside. Hell, it would be another six months or longer before the store was up and running. And I knew I probably should have been more appreciative that no one, especially Adria, had been harmed. But all I could see was our dreams billowing up into thin air like the smoke in front of us.
“Babe.” Keon walked up and wrapped his arms around his wife. Instinctively, Adria leaned into his embrace on a sigh. “Maybe we should go sit in the car.”
“I’m okay. I think they’re going to come talk to us in a little bit.”
“Sis, you need anything?” Keon turned to me
and reached over to rub my arm. Yeah, Jahmad to comfort me like that, was what I wanted to say. Instead, I just shook my head. That may have been selfish. Jahmad was at home with the baby, as I had insisted. The last thing I wanted to do was wake my mom up this time of night to come see about Jamaal. She would be worried enough as it was because I was sure Keon had already called her.
We stood in silence for a moment longer, the heat from the fire slowly subsiding as the flames were completely extinguished. In their place was a pile of blackened rubble, nothing of which I recognized. And just like that, all our hard work, all our efforts were gone.
“Good evening, folks.” The firefighter walked up, a clipboard in hand, soot blackening his face and uniform. His eyes flipped between all of us huddled together. “Who is in charge here?”
“Me,” I spoke up and nodded to Adria. “And my best friend Adria here. The place was ours.”
“First off, let me say I’m sorry this happened.”
“Have you determined the cause?” Adria asked, her voice laced with worry.
The firefighter glanced at the notes on his clipboard. “It’s too soon to tell, but it appears like it may have been some electrical wiring that shorted out.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “That’s impossible,” I murmured, almost to myself. “We had the building inspected months ago. Everything was fine.”
The man nodded, clearly unsure. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “This is just a theory, but the officers will be able to give you more information when they investigate.”
“Investigate?” Now it was Keon’s turn to speak up, and he stepped forward, almost as if to protect us from whatever truth was slowly being revealed. “What is there to investigate?”
“Just standard procedure,” he said with a comforting smile none of us felt. “Probably should just stick around to speak to them so they can wrap it up quickly.”
I nodded, not realizing I was shuddering until I wrapped my arms around myself.
