You're the One I Want

by Shane Allison

  I grabbed him hard at the chin. “Did you really think that I was going to let you make a fool out of me, that I was going to let you what…hit this and simply go back to your diamonds and pearls lifestyle with the wife? If your lawyer brain thought for a second that I would just become another notch on your bedpost, you were sadly mistaken.”

  Dante grabbed at his chest like he wanted to reach in and rip his heart out.

  “Now this right here would be you going into cardiac arrest.” I looked into his brown eyes, glazed over with tears as the cyanide worked its magic. “You see, Dante, I’m not one of these club hoochies whose legs you think are easy to spread like peanut butter. You should know that this is all your fault. Had you been straightforward with me from jump, you wouldn’t be sitting here on my sofa, dying right now.” I watched the last speck of life leave his body as the poison did Dante in. His body fell still, lifeless finally. I pried his lids open to see if he was gone. “Yep, dead as a door nail.”

  I went to my bedroom and got dressed, cloaking myself in a pair of Fendi shades and a black Michael Kors trench. I plucked a pair of black Chanel gloves out of one of the dresser drawers and slid them over my hands. “Might as well commit murder in style.”

  I had to move Dante’s Beamer out of the driveway and under my garage. He parked next to my Escalade. I searched his body for his car keys, which were in one of the front pockets of his khakis. My neighbors Charmaine and her husband, Jamaal, were in Cancun for the weekend and weren’t due back until Tuesday, so I didn’t have to worry about them seeing anything. I let the door of the garage up and parked Dante’s vanilla-scented car in the garage. With all the junk I had stored under it, I was surprised there was room. I quickly let down the garage door, grabbed two large trash bags, some rope, and sprinted upstairs to the living room where I’d left Dante’s dead body.

  “Good thing I didn’t go with my initial idea to stab your ass. All that blood would have ruined my rug.”

  I shook one of the garbage bags open and eased it over Dante’s head. I crossed his arms over his chest. I took another bag and worked it over his legs, up to his waist. I then took some rope and tied his legs first and then the upper part of his body.

  “That oughta do it, nice and tight.”

  I pulled the coffee table back to avoid any accidents while trying to get Dante’s body to the garage. I dragged him by his legs off the sofa. His head made a loud thud when it hit the floor. The heels of my black Jimmy Choos clattered as I pulled Dante across the living room. I was pouring with sweat when I got to the garage. It took all the strength I had to work the heavier part of Dante into the trunk of his car first.

  “Damn, you heavy.”

  Surprisingly, he slid in easily, but his long legs were another matter. The bottom half of him hung out across the trunk. I pushed and stuffed as hard as I could, but with the strong elastic of the plastic, his beanstalks were not budging.

  “Okay, Tangela, think, bitch, think.” I looked around the garage to see what I could find. “Damn, it’s hot out here.”

  I noticed a sledgehammer that was sitting in one of the corners. I figured the plumber from last week must have left it behind.

  “Perfect.”

  I dragged the heavy instrument across the garage floor. I lifted it over my head and brought the steel end of the hammer down on Dante’s knees as hard as my little muscles would allow. I heard one of his kneecaps snap like a tree limb to the blow. I lifted the sledgehammer again and, with a second mighty wallop, came down on Dante’s other leg. I stuffed his broken limbs in with the rest of him and shut the trunk.

  I headed back to the main part of the house where I made sure there wasn’t a thing out of place as I wiped away any prints. I took Dante’s glass of wine and poured it down the kitchen sink before I scrubbed it with bleach. As much as I didn’t want to get rid of my gloves, I threw them in the fireplace and burned them.

  “It’s just material things.”

  I sipped the rest of my wine when I heard a cell phone ring. It wasn’t mine, but Dante’s. I searched everywhere until I found it hunched down in one of the sofa cushions. I studied the flat-screen on his iPhone. Tarisha, it read.

  “It’s probably your wife wondering where your cheatin’ ass is at.” I tossed the phone in the fire with my gloves and watched it burn. “I want nothing less than respect.”

  34

  KASHAWN

  When I got the news that Bree had been arrested, I jumped up out of bed and got dressed. Ma and Yvonne were sitting in the kitchen, running their mouths about Bree, I was sure.

  “Kashawn, what’s the matter?”

  I was about out of breath, sprinting down the stairs. “It’s Bree. She’s been arrested.”

  “For what?” Ma and Yvonne asked simultaneously.

  “Murder.”

  “Oh, Lord. I’m going with you. Let me get my purse.”

  “Me, too,” said Yvonne.

  “It’s late. You all don’t need to—”

  “I’m going. End of discussion,” Ma said.

  I grabbed the car keys off of one of the end tables in the living room and drove as fast as the Escalade could take me.

  On my way to the police station, I kept racking my brain, wondering what Bree had gotten herself into. My heart was still beating triple time from her telling me that she had been arrested for killing somebody. I knew, without a doubt, that there must have been some mistake. I wanted to say that Bree didn’t have a killing bone in her body, but honestly, I didn’t really know what Bree was capable of doing. When Ma and I got to the police station, all I wanted to do was see Bree, to know that she was all right.

  Ma, Yvonne, and I waited patiently in the lobby of the Tallahassee Police Department. I sat rocking on my elbows on my thighs, staring quietly down at my black Dearform slippers that Ma got me as a Christmas gift last year.

  “I’ve always thought you could do better, cousin.”

  “Yvonne, seriously, not now.”

  “You see what she does? She’s nothing but trouble.”

  “Don’t start. I’m nowhere near in the mood for a lecture right now.”

  “The day I laid my eyes on Bree, I knew she wasn’t any good,” Ma said.

  I let loose a long sigh like it was a fart I had been forced to hold in. “Ma.”

  “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another with her, bringing all these shysty people into your lives. She used Deanthony and she’s using you, baby.”

  “Ma, can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything, son, what is it?”

  “Will you please shut up?”

  Ma gawked at me with her hair done up in jumbo, pink rollers, like I had asked her a dirty question. “What did you say to me?”

  “I love you, but I need you to…sit here right now and be quiet.”

  “That’s not what you said to me. What did you say to me?”

  The fat, blond cop stared at us annoyed.

  “Why do you have to make everything about you? Not everything is about you.”

  “You can be real coldhearted sometimes, you know that?”

  “Says the woman who’s lied to me for thirty years of my life.”

  “What are you talking about, Kashawn?”

  “It’s so convenient for you, isn’t it?”

  “What did I do this time?”

  “You throw stuff like this out there and then when someone calls you on things, you back off like you’re so innocent, like you didn’t do anything.”

  “Fine. I’ll hush my mouth then.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me that Edrick wasn’t my real daddy?”

  “Is that why you’re acting like a fool up in this place?”

  “Thirty. Thirty years, Ma, you had me believing that this man I loved and looked up to was my father and you never opened your mouth.”

  “Edrick was the only father you needed to know.”

  “Oh, so that’s my fault?”

  “You need to hush about t
his.”

  “No. I want to know the truth. Who is our real father?”

  Ma paused, like she was searching for something to say. “Yvonne, baby, can you go get me a soda? I’m thirsty.” Ma reached inside her purse and pulled out a few dollars and handed it to Yvonne. “Get whatever you want.”

  “The reason why I didn’t tell you boys who your real father is, is because for thirty years, I’ve tried to put it all behind me, hoping, praying that, as your mother, this day would never come.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I was nineteen…” Ma got up and started pacing the lobby of the police station. “When I was nineteen, I was raped.”

  “What?”

  “It was by one of my mama’s boyfriend’s. Willie Patterson was his name, some stray she pulled out of some juke joint. Mama always left me home alone with Willie when she went off to work. He was a drunk and quickly took a shine to me. I was washing and putting up clothes when he came into my room. That night, I was surprised that the man could barely stand. He stormed in, calling me a tease, telling me that I was nothing but a tramp. I told him that he was a drunkard, that he should go sleep off the gin. That’s when he slapped me, telling me that he hated women who sassed him, saying that…I needed to be taught a lesson, so he threw me on the bed and undid his pants.

  “Stop,” I said. I couldn’t hear anymore. “What did Grandma do?”

  “When I told her that Willie raped me, she didn’t believe me, accusing me of coming in between her and him, saying that, ‘He wouldn’t do that. He’s a good man.’ She told me to never talk about it again, so I didn’t.”

  “Until you found out you were…”

  “Until I found out that I was pregnant with you boys, yes. When I told Mama, she called me a tramp and kicked me out of the house and tossed every strip of clothing I had out onto the street. I’ll never forget what she said: ‘A trash bag for trash.’ ”

  “My God, Ma.”

  “Luckily, I had some money saved up and stayed at a motel for a week until your Aunt Gertie took me in and fed me. That Dutch apple cheesecake that’s your favorite?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ms. Gertie, bless the dead, taught me how to make it.”

  “Did you ever go to my real father and tell him you were pregnant?”

  “No. He has no clue that he has children in this world, and, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want that rapist bastard to know about my boys.”

  “I never asked you this, but how did you meet Daddy, the man who adopted me and Deanthony?”

  “I was walking out of the grocery store when I almost tripped over something. It was your father’s wallet. I called him and told him that I found it. He came to Ms. Gertie’s to pick it up. Your father was so handsome, Kashawn. He was a proud man, like his brother. I cut him a piece of apple cheesecake that day, and he told me that a woman who makes cheesecake this good, has to be his wife, and the rest was history.”

  “How did Daddy react when you told him you were pregnant?”

  “I didn’t go into details about what happened to me. Edrick said it didn’t matter, and that he wanted to raise you boys as his own. I knew then that your father was nothing but God-sent.”

  I wrapped my arms warmly around Ma. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what, baby?”

  “For everything.”

  “I tried to find the right time to tell you about him, but I discovered there’s no such thing.”

  Yvonne returned with two cold cans of grape soda.

  “Look, I know y’all are upset about what Bree has done, but she has really gotten me through a lot of crazy…excuse my language, and the past few weeks have been hard for both of us.”

  “I know, baby.”

  “What I’m saying is, I don’t care what Bree did in the past. We all got a past, and sometimes it’s nothing pretty. Not us, you, or anybody has a right to judge her. Especially me.”

  “What do you mean?” Yvonne asked.

  I took a deep sigh as I leaned back into my chair. “I cheated on Bree with Tangela.”

  “Oh, Lord. Kashawn,” Ma said with an air of disappointment in her tone.

  “I’m no angel and I haven’t been the perfect husband. I want to change that. I want to be the husband that Bree married by first telling her the truth. I love her and nothing and nobody is going to change that. I don’t care what she’s done. There are people out here who have done worse things than she could ever do. I’m tired of everyone pointing fingers like she assassinated somebody. I haven’t done right by her and that stops now. I’m going to be the husband she needs me to be, Ma. If I didn’t love Bree, I wouldn’t be here.”

  Ma began to caress the side of my face with her hand. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”

  I let loose a grin. “Yes…but I never get tired of hearing it.” I rested my hand softly on top of Mama’s.

  “I’m sorry, baby, and you’re right. There needs to be a change, because at the end of the day, family is all you have, and Bree needs that more than ever right now if she’s going to get through this.”

  As we waited, Deanthony blew in through the double glass doors of the police station. Needless to say, the man who slept with my wife was the last man I wanted to see.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t be mad, baby. I called him,” Ma said.

  “He doesn’t need to be here. I don’t need him here.”

  “He’s your brother, Kashawn. Your twin brother.”

  “Is it true?” Deanthony asked. “She got arrested for killing somebody?”

  “We’re trying to find out what’s going on,” Ma said.

  “Speaking of which.” I walked back up to the front desk to find out what was taking them so long. “Excuse me.” The blond, porky-faced cop looked up at me annoyingly from a stack of papers she had sprawled out in front of her. “Can you tell me what’s going on with my wife? Her name is Bree Parker. She was brought in like an hour ago.”

  Katherine McGhee, her silver-plated name tag read. “They may not have processed her yet. Let me find out.”

  “Thank you.”

  Katherine picked up the phone and pressed a number. I waited anxiously to get word on Bree. I could barely hear what she was saying due to the plate glass that separated us. “No, they haven’t processed her yet. She’s in holding.”

  “Can we see her?”

  “She’s only allowed one visitor at a time.”

  I walked back over to Ma and Deanthony to tell them what was up. “They’ve already processed her. They said she’s only allowed one visitor.”

  “Go on in, baby. Give Bree our love.”

  I sauntered back up to the help desk and gave Katherine, the pie-faced cop, my name. She tapped on the keyboard with her plump fingers. The light from the flat-screen Dell reflected in the lenses of her wire-frame glasses. She slid a laminated visitor pass under the dip cut in the plate glass and buzzed me in. I pinned the name tag on the breast pocket of my pajama shirt before I walked through the heavy, steel door. I walked down a cold corridor where the walls were lined with photos of cops past, men and women smiling big in their uniforms, followed by plaques of those in recognition for their lengthy years of loyal service upholding the law. To the right of me was a long desk where three male cops sat. They gave me a sinister glare as if they were ready to tear into my black ass if I made any sudden moves. One of the men, a brother, who had to be like seven feet tall, chest like a bird, arms like sledgehammers, told me that I had to be searched for weapons. He told me to spread my legs and hold my arms out to my side. He patted me down, running his hands along the sides of my arms and thighs, careful not to graze my balls. This man looked at me like he wanted to rip my head off. I was trying to think of the last time I was patted down by a cop. Fucking never.

  “What’s in your front pocket?”

  “Oh, they’re just my car keys.”

  “Place them in the bowl,” he said. He
walked back behind the desk. “Walk down the hall, make a right, take the elevator to the fourth floor, level E.” He sounded like he ate bullets like they were Fig Newtons. “You got thirty minutes.”

  The hall smelled sickly of bleach. I took the elevator to level E and sat in front of more plate glass. I looked about, but all I could see were jail cells and female cellmates prancing around in orange jumpsuits and white, plastic sandals. I saw Bree before she saw me. I knocked on the glass to get her attention. She ran toward me, crying when she made me out. We pressed our hands up to the glass as we picked up the phones and placed them up to our ears.

  “Baby, are you all right? How are you doing?”

  “I’ve never been so glad to see you, Kashawn.”

  “Baby, what happened?”

  “I just wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”

  “Talk to who, Bree?”

  “Katiesha. I swear I found her like that. I didn’t kill her.”

  I exhaled breath that I had been holding in ever since Bree called me.

  Bree looked awful, like she had been up all night.

  “What happened?”

  “I went to Risqué to look for Katiesha. She wasn’t there, so I went to her crib. I knocked on the door and there was no answer. I saw blood coming from under the door, so I went in and there she was, dead on the chair. My hand to God, baby, that’s what happened.”

  “Okay, I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “Kashawn, you believe me, don’t you?”

  I searched Bree’s eyes and knew right then that she was telling the truth.

  35

  TANGELA

  As soon as I strolled into Top Flight, all eyes were on me, men zeroing in on my ass like they were heat-seeking missiles. I wasn’t doing cute. I was doing drop-dead gorgeous with my leopard-print skirt, black blouse, and candy apple-red, fuck-me pumps. A girl can work up a sexual appetite when plotting to steal her best friend’s man. I was in need of some serious unwinding. I thought to go home and soak in a warm bubble bath with a nice glass of red wine by my side, but I was in the mood to mingle. I was tired of being around chatty chicks at the salon all day, running my fingers through somebody’s nasty hair. I loved my boss, but, damn, sometimes she got on my last nerve. If she wasn’t complaining about one thing, she was nagging me about another. By the time six o’clock came, I was good and ready to take my ass home. I had Leandra in my ear, and Bree, who had been blowing up my phone. I was supposed to hook up with her at Risqué, but that only would have gone against my plan to fuck her life up. I was in no mood for the latest in Bree drama. I needed some me time every now and then. I was sick of being her damn shoulder to cry on.