Did he place extra emphasis on murder? She almost rolled her eyes. He acted as if he earned the name from literally murdering people, instead of how he earned it—building a reputation of “murdering” MCs in cypher competitions and street corner rap battles. He was clearly posturing, though she didn’t think her date could be intimidated. He was so laid back.
Austin extended his hand. “I’m—”
“Austin,” she filled in for him. She didn’t want him to give Terrence his full name. She didn’t trust him.
A muscle in Terrence’s jaw twitched. He didn’t shake Austin’s hand. “Guess I’ll let you finish your meal. We still on for the tour tomorrow?”
Tomorrow they took their eldest on a tour of Morehouse College, one of the schools he considered attending after he graduated next spring. It was not something they needed to discuss right this minute.
“Yes, we’re still on for tomorrow,” she answered.
“Cool. See you then. Nice to meet you, Austin.”
“Likewise.”
They left the table and Charisse breathed easier.
“Everything okay?”
Austin’s gaze remained trained on the menu.
“Yes, everything is okay.” She reached across the table and he put his hand in hers.
She wanted to reassure him. Having an ex-husband who was bigger than life could sometimes be intimidating for other men. Not to mention so many of his songs consisted of boasts about his sexual prowess, tales of growing up poor and black in the hood, and bragging about his money, jewelry, and cars.
At least, those were the ones that received the most radio play. Only diehard fans knew about the songs where he bemoaned the ravages of poverty, encouraged young people to strive for their dreams, and cursed the political powers that be for their negligence and selfishness as they handled government affairs.
Austin squeezed her hand. “Good.”
“There’s something I want to tell you.”
“Okay.”
“I have an overnight bag in the car, and the reason my mother is watching the kids tonight is because…I’d like to spend the night with you, if that’s okay.”
A broad grin spread across his lips. “Of course that’s okay. I’ve missed you since the last time, and when you left like you did, I wasn’t sure…”
“I know. With the kids…”
He shook his head. “No need to explain. I understand. But I’m glad you can make time for me tonight.” He rubbed a thumb back and forth over her hand.
“Good.”
“Good.”
They both laughed and she returned her attention to the menu choices, much more upbeat. She would not allow Terrence to kill the mood. Now that her date was back on track, she allowed her mind to dissect what happened and reflected on the past.
Terrence used to always have a perfectly logical explanation for any suspicious-looking photos that popped up online and an excuse for showing up late after engagements. His favorite was to say that he was working in the studio. Another was to say that he was in a meeting that ran over and they went for drinks afterward and lost track of time.
If she found any evidence of his betrayal, he instantly became contrite and apologetic. He would buy her a piece of jewelry or send her on a shopping spree and come home on time for a while. Then after a period, sometimes only a couple of months later, the behavior started all over again.
In the beginning, he used to take her out. They partied together, but that happened less the bigger his star shined. She knew it was so he could hook up with other women, though he insisted that was not the case. And he always brought up the fact that someone needed to keep an eye on the kids, as if they couldn’t hire a caretaker or her mother wasn’t available.
After a while, she stopped yelling and stopped questioning him. She grew tired of hearing, These hoes won’t leave me alone or I don’t know where that number came from. She ignored the signs and pretended she didn’t see the numbers or smell the perfume in his clothes. Until the day came when she could no longer ignore, and one of his side chicks, a stripper named Brenda, approached her while she was at the grocery store with her two youngest. Brenda yelled and screamed, accosting her as if she were the wife and Charisse the side chick.
Then the photos were plastered online, and a video appeared on TMZ with this woman yelling and tossing boxes of cereal while Charisse’s bodyguard held her at bay. Charisse had abandoned her cart and run off with her kids.
It was one thing to deal with the infidelity privately, but the public humiliation had been too much. Terrence’s affairs chipped away at her self-esteem, but that public display damaged her pride. The video showed she was a woman on the run. On the run from the truth that she was no longer married.
Terrence claimed he didn’t know Brenda. He called her a crazy stalker and said there was nothing going on between them. But when Brenda posted a sonogram of their alleged unborn child on Instagram, that was the death knell of their marriage.
The media hounded Charisse, articles were printed with all sorts of tacky headlines about whether or not she could satisfy a man like T-Murder, and both she and the other woman’s images sat next to each other while people on social media made hurtful, unfair comparisons between them. One in particular crushed her spirits. I’m not saying he’s right, but I understand, the person posted.
Terrence finally admitted to having sex with Brenda but swore he used protection—as if that made the betrayal okay. Charisse filed for divorce. When the young woman retracted her statement—she wasn’t pregnant after all—and admitted she’d wanted to hurt Terrence the way he hurt her by dismissing their affair as nothing, Charisse plowed on.
Their marriage was broken. She was broken. She simply couldn’t stand to be with him anymore.
In the end, he was generous with support. He bought the house she wanted and gave her everything she asked for and more, claiming he did so because taking care of their kids was a full-time job. Making sure they ate well, checking their homework, getting them to school on time, and being an emotional support system for them while he was on the road was all valuable and worthy of decent pay. In reality, she suspected his generosity sprang from guilt, maybe shame, or a combination of the two.
It took them over two years to arrive at a place where they could actually be friendly and not cold to each other. After tonight, she wondered if that long-standing truce had somehow been broken.
5
“It’s nice here,” Terrence said to his grandmother over the phone as he walked the Morehouse College campus.
“How many schools have you visited so far?”
“This is the third one, but it’s my favorite.”
“You’re not the one going to college, dear heart.”
“I know. But if I were, I’d pick Morehouse.”
The staff arranged a private tour of the campus, which Terrence appreciated. As Charisse and Ennis strolled ahead of him with one of the school’s student ambassadors, he took stock of the students trudging to class, others laughing in groups, and the old buildings within whose walls young minds were being prepared for life in the “real world.”
He never attended college himself, but taking these trips with his son to visit the campuses made him think about what his life could have been like if he’d had the opportunity. He made a lot of money and took care of the people he loved, evidence that a college education was not the only way to be successful, but he couldn’t help but wonder what his day-to-day would look like if he’d gone to college.
Especially a place like this, founded in 1867 to educate young black men otherwise shut out of the country’s institutions of higher learning. The first sentence of their mission statement alone impressed him. The mission of Morehouse College is to develop men with disciplined minds who will lead lives of leadership and service.
At least he could give his kid the opportunity to get a higher education. Being able to live vicariously through Ennis made him proud that he could prov
ide this opportunity for all his kids. His son might attend one of the top HBCUs in the country, which graduated some of the most successful black academics and professionals. Famous alumni who’d attended included Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Samuel L. Jackson, Spike Lee, and former Atlanta mayor Maynard Jackson. And maybe, one day, they would add Ennis Burrell to that list.
“It’s never too late to get an education. Adults go back to school all the time. Don’t rule it out, dear heart,” Grandma Esther said.
He smiled at her encouraging words. She never put limitations on his dreams, and for that he was thankful. “I’ll think about it. Who knows, maybe I’ll take a class or two—see how it feels. Anyway, I gotta go soon. We’re almost at the admissions building. How are you feeling?”
She had a stroke a few weeks ago but was back at home with a full-time caretaker, which she resented but Terrence would not take no for an answer.
“I’m fine. You worry too much.”
“There’s no such thing as worrying too much. You’re not giving Dana any more trouble, are you?”
“No, I’m not. That girl has a strong constitution. I thought she’d quit by now, but she’s still here. She done wore me out. I’m plum tired being a you-know-what to her and she still here, just smiling and being patient and friendly. You must be paying her real nice.”
Terrence chuckled. “She’s used to ornery people like you. I’ma come see you next week, a’ight?”
She lived in Macon, where she raised him, and lived in the same house his grandfather purchased for her decades ago.
“All right, dear heart. Give my love to Ennis and Charisse. You take care.”
“You, too.”
Terrence hung up and focused on the three people ahead of him. While he enjoyed the tour of the campus, one thing did mar the experience. He and Charisse had barely spoken since they met up. She spoke to Ennis and the tour guide, he spoke to Ennis and the tour guide, but they said maybe five words to each other. He was still smarting from when he saw her last night with that Austin dude and wondered whether or not she’d slept with him.
She wore her hair in the same style she did then—straight and filled out with strategically placed tracks, letting it touch her shoulders, every now and again blowing around her face when a light breeze swept across the campus. She wore a silk blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves and jeans that hugged her beautiful derrière, making it hard to keep his eyes off her. Charisse had always been a sexy woman without even trying. When he saw her last night, though, she’d been trying. She looked hella good, and he didn’t doubt for one second that dude tried to get in her panties.
Did she let him?
He ground his teeth. He needed to know if they slept together. It was eating him alive.
He looked down at his hand and saw that he’d crushed the brochure. He hadn’t realized he’d done that and tucked it into his back pocket.
They came to a stop at the admissions building and the guide said, “This is the end of the line for me. I hope you enjoyed your tour. Do you have any more questions?”
“I’m good. Mom, Pops?”
“I don’t have any questions,” Charisse said.
Terrence shook his head, indicating he didn’t have any, either.
“All right then. I’ll walk you into the office, and the admissions counselor will then have a few words with you. I hope you do decide to attend Morehouse. I think you’ll love it.”
The young man led them inside to a hallway and then a couple doors down to one of the offices. They were greeted by an older woman wearing glasses.
“Welcome back!” she said in a booming but friendly voice. “I’m sure Stephen did a great job with the tour, but I’m here to answer any additional questions that you may have. Thank you, dear.” Stephen nodded and left them alone. “Let me know your concerns, but by no means is this the last chance you have to talk to us. We want to keep in touch with you after today so that if you have additional questions, we can answer them. We also want to share information with you about activities taking place on campus that Ennis might be interested in attending.” She punctuated her little speech with a smile.
“Stephen mentioned there was additional literature I could take a look at,” Ennis said.
“Absolutely! And I’ll have you fill out a sign-up sheet so we can add you to our activities mailing list.”
“Sounds good.” Ennis glanced at both of his parents for permission.
“You go ahead and we’ll wait out here,” Charisse said.
“All right, we’ll only take a few minutes and we’ll be right back.” With a hand at his back, the woman guided Ennis into a back office. Terrence and Charisse sat down in the empty chairs, leaving one empty chair between them.
She crossed her legs away from him and perused one of the brochures. A young man, who didn’t look much older than Ennis, stood at the counter leafing through a magazine. In the back, the muted sounds of other staff having conversations could be heard.
“How was your date last night?” Terrence asked.
She didn’t look at him. “It went well. How was yours?”
“Good.” Liar.
He didn’t sleep a wink and his penis turned into a wet noodle, unable to stand erect so he could have sex with Kim. All because his imagination tortured him with thoughts of Charisse screwing another man. She looked so sexy with red lips, sultry eyes, and that blue dress hugging her shapely body. He’d wanted her so badly he almost upended the restaurant table and dragged her back to his place to fuck her good and long and remind her who she used to belong to.
Today, those tight jeans made his imagination run wild all over again. He used to have the right to touch her. Now he practically sat on his hands like a good little boy while his penis grew hard in the admissions office of Morehouse College.
He glanced over at her. “You haven’t said much today.”
“Neither have you.” She looked up at him.
“Been seeing that guy long?”
She shrugged. “Not long.”
“How long is not long?”
She sighed. “About a month, Terrence.”
“You screwing him?”
Her eyes opened wide. “What?”
“It’s okay if you are,” he said, his body growing tense.
“I know it is, but I don’t think it’s any of your business who I’m screwing.”
“So you are screwing him?” He felt as if someone dropped a cinder block on his chest.
She glanced at the young man at the counter and lowered her voice. “It’s none of your business. You were with someone, too, and you don’t see me asking you about her.”
He laughed shortly, bitterly. “You’ve never asked me about any…”
Pain flashed in her eyes and she turned away from him, folding her arms across her stomach.
Shit.
“I’m sorry.” He lifted a hand to reach for her, but let it drop. She wouldn’t want him to touch her right now, of that he was certain. “I just didn’t know you were out there like that, you know?” He’d assumed she was always alone. Had hoped that was the case.
“Out there like what?” She faced him with a glare. “You’re not the only one who has needs.”
The words hung in the air between them, and Terrence saw red. Some primal, savage force in him raised its ugly head, and he gripped the armrest.
Charisse swung her head away from him again while his fingers tightened over the piece of metal. He released, then curled his fingers over the cool steel, and released again. He did that multiple times before the action was no longer sufficient to control the surge of energy coursing through his body.
He bolted from the chair and left the office. Out in the hallway, he nodded at a student and then walked down the hall, all the way to the opposite end of where they’d come in. A burning need to scream overcame him, but how crazy would he look screaming in the middle of the building like a crazy person. He wanted to smash everything in sight.
You’re not the only one who has needs.
Through a window in the double doors, he watched the young people walking around on campus. He was breathing hard.
“Calm down. Calm down.”
He couldn’t stand the thought of another man making her wet. Driving into her. Loving on her chocolate nipples. Squeezing her bottom and licking her soft skin. Burying his face between her thighs. Tasting the sweet dampness of her clit. He was enraged. That shit also hurt like hell and gave him a fractional taste of the pain he must have inflicted on her with his cheating over the years. Was this how she’d felt? He couldn’t handle it. It felt as if someone had tied a noose around his neck and was slowly tightening it and cutting off his oxygen.
He forced his way back into the office, and the door slammed against the wall. Charisse jumped and the young man behind the counter looked up from his magazine.
Terrence marched over to her, slammed his hands on the chair’s armrests, and brought his face down to hers. “Don’t you ever bring him into my fucking house.”
He straightened and pushed his way back out the door.
6
Terrence stood with his back against the Range Rover, arms crossed and feet crossed at the ankles. He was in front of the garage at the house talking to Ennis, who wanted to discuss his options for college. Charisse went shopping and would pick up the two younger kids from a birthday party and bring them home later.
Ennis stood facing his father, hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans. “It’s so hard to decide. I can’t make up my mind at all.”
“You don’t have to decide right now. You still have time. Figure out what’s a must-have at any school that you attend. Then make a list of your top schools. Check out the pros and cons of attending each one, and narrow your list to the ones that tick the most boxes from your list of must-haves.”
Ennis nodded his understanding. “Honestly, if I needed to choose now, I’d say Morehouse. But then that means staying in Atlanta, and I don’t know if I want to do that. I kind of feel like I need to be on my own and have a chance to grow up a little.” He ventured a look at his father, as if nervous about what he thought of the desire to move away.
Without You (Quicksand Book 2) Page 3
