Crazy Love

by Desiree Day

  “He’s nobody,” Tameeka insisted, then tugged at Tyrell’s hand, pulling him toward the bed.

  Tyrell snatched his hand back. “Who is he?”

  Tameeka hung her head. “An old boyfriend,” she admitted.

  Tyrell exhaled. “So whassup?”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing between us.”

  “There must be something between you two if you’re calling out his name,” Tyrell fumed.

  “It’s nothing. Honest, baby. I don’t know why I did it. I wasn’t even thinking about him,” she answered truthfully. “I was totally enjoying your body.”

  Tyrell cradled her face in his hands. “If you got something to tell me, now is the time to do it before we get too deep in this.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, I made a silly mistake.”

  “You’d better tell me if something changes. I don’t like surprises.”

  Tameeka nodded. “I will. Now make me scream, Tyrell.”

  That was two days ago. Tameeka shook the memory away before glancing at Tyrell, who grinned, then winked at her.

  “Hey baby, where do you want this?” Tyrell held a candle sporting a leopard design. “A whole box of them just came in.” Things had been going well despite her accidentally calling out Mohammad’s name.

  “My wild thang candles are here,” Tameeka squealed, then rushed over to Tyrell and kissed him as if he was the one who actually manufactured the candles and hand delivered them. “Put those over in the corner,” she demanded. “I’m going to create a special display for them.” She tilted her head to the side and studied the candles. Then she said, “Something wild and funky,” she decided.

  Tyrell did as she requested, then sauntered back to her side. It was two o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon and he was helping her out at Heaven on Earth.

  “Open this and see what’s in it!” she ordered, and shoved an oblong box in Tyrell’s hands. He opened his mouth to say something, but clamped it shut; he swallowed his irritation and instead slit the box open and examined its contents. That was the third time today that Tameeka had bossed him around as though he was one of her employees. This wasn’t what he had in mind when he agreed to spend the day helping her around her store.

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was across the store helping a young lady who had come barreling through the doors; she was looking for some vitamins and nothing else. She was pretty adamant about that. Now her basket was not only filled with half a dozen bottles of vitamins, but candles, a miniature water fountain and books on stress release. He shook his head in admiration: Work it, girl!

  Tyrell returned his attention to the books and began unpacking them and lining them up on the bookshelf. The routine job was repetitive, down…up…stretch…down, and pretty soon he eased into a rhythm that suited him just fine because it allowed him to slip into daydream mode.

  Several pictures flashed before his eyes. He and Tameeka exchanging wedding vows, he and Tameeka buying their first house as man and wife, then he and Tameeka bathing their firstborn, Tyrell Jr. I’m blessed. I am truly blessed, he thought to himself, then broke into a wide grin and began whistling softly.

  The visions were still fresh in his mind and the music on his lips as he reached up to place a book on the shelf. Suddenly, Tameeka snatched it from his hand. He was instantly snapped back to reality. Tameeka’s eyes were bright with rage. “These don’t go here!” she barked. “I told you not to shelve anything before checking with me first.” She began pulling down the books that had taken him more than a half hour to put up. “I’ll do it myself. Maybe you should work the cash register. You should be able to handle that.” She was bent over, returning the books to the box, and didn’t see the hurt and embarrassment on his face.

  “Um—baby?”

  Tameeka continued to box the books as though she hadn’t heard him. So he called her again. This time she answered, “Give me a minute. I need to put these books back in the box.”

  “Tameeka!” Tyrell barked, and Tameeka was so startled that she dropped the stack of books she had been holding.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Oh…,” she said, relaxing, then went back to the books. “I’m listening.”

  “I—want—to—talk—to—you—in—private,” Tyrell hissed.

  Bea was standing a few feet away and had been keeping a concerned eye on them. Experience told her that something was going to burst. The day a woman starts treating her man like a child is the day that he’s gonna start looking for a lover instead of a mother. “Young people,” she clucked, then eased over to Tameeka and Tyrell.

  Tameeka was holding a book and staring, dumbfounded, at Tyrell. Bea grabbed the book out of Tameeka’s hand, then patted her on the shoulder. “Go on, baby, I’ll take care of this.” She watched as Tameeka followed Tyrell back to her office.

  Inside the office, Tameeka was sitting on one end of the couch and Tyrell on the other. Tameeka crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes at Tyrell. “So you wanna talk? Well, talk!”

  “You need to chill, bossy lady.” Tyrell said it as gently as he could.

  “What?” Tameeka sputtered, then pointed to herself. “I need to chill?” When Tyrell nodded, she let loose. “Let me tell you something. Where the hell were you when I had to work twelve-hours days, seven days a week—by myself, mind you—because half my friends and almost all my family members thought that a black woman couldn’t own a successful wellness store. Where the hell were you when I had to sleep on that cot right there.” She pointed to her army-issued cot, which she’d picked up from an army surplus store. “Because I was afraid that if I got in the car and drove home, I’d fall asleep at the wheel. Where were you—”

  “Hold up…time out.” Tyrell grabbed Tameeka and pulled her into his arms. Holding her body against his, he began talking softly. “I’m not disrespecting you or taking away your accomplishments. You’re my queen, I told you that when I first met you and you’ll always be. But baby, you can’t talk to me like that. You heard the old saying: It’s easier to catch bees with honey than vinegar. Well, throw a brother some honey once in a while, that’s all I’m saying.”

  Tameeka pulled out of his arms, then glared up at him; his mouth was twitching at the corners as if he was trying to suppress a grin. That made her even angrier. “Well, I’m not bossy. When it comes to my business, I know how things should be run. I didn’t get to be the owner of a store by letting people tell me what to do!” she shouted, and soon her whole body began shaking; she was making soft hiccupping sounds and crying quietly at the same time. After some time the room was quiet. Then Tameeka looked up at Tyrell.

  “You must think that I’m the most horrible person in the world, don’t you? Don’t lie…tell me the truth,” she demanded, and Tyrell shook his head.

  “I’m not thinking anything like that. If I was I would’ve told your bossy ass off in front of everybody. You’ve gotten a little swollen, that’s all.”

  “And you decided to stick a pin in me?” she joked, suddenly feeling better. She grabbed Tyrell’s sleeve and began wiping her face.

  “Hey, do you see Kleenex stamped on my sweatshirt? Go get some tissues.”

  Tameeka hopped up and grabbed some tissues and wiped her face. “So how bad am I?” She had tossed the soiled paper in the garbage and was sitting comfortably in his lap.

  “Well, this is you on a good day,” he said, and began mimicking her. “‘Put that down, I can do it better. Don’t touch that, you don’t know what you’re doing. Sweep the floor, at least you can’t mess that up!’”

  Tameeka’s heart banged against her chest. “I don’t do that,” she protested, horrified at Tyrell’s portrayal of her.

  “Yeah, you do,” Tyrell said. “And it makes me feel like shit,” he admitted.

  “Oh baby, no! I didn’t mean to,” Tameeka exclaimed as she gently stroked his face.

  “I could be somewh
ere else on my day off. But I chose to come in and help you out. I really want to spend some time with my lady.”

  “Do I really sound like that?” Tameeka asked quietly.

  “Yep. You sound like a drill sergeant whose jock strap is two sizes too small,” Tyrell answered, breaking it down for her.

  “No I don’t!” she argued heatedly, then her voice suddenly softened. “Yeah, I do. Bea’s told me so…on many an occasion.” She laughed self-consciously, then continued. “She says that I treat people as though they were mindless idiots. But I don’t mean to,” she said, and hung her head, ashamed at her behavior.

  “I hope you don’t,” Tyrell answered.

  “It’s just that I’m so stressed. I have to deal with upset customers, vendors who want their money, I have to make sure that the rent is paid on time, I—”

  Tyrell placed his hand over her mouth. “Be quiet!” he instructed. “You’re making excuses,” Tyrell said. “And excuses are like credit cards—everybody has them. So you gotta come better than that, baby,” he said before removing his hand.

  Tameeka sighed. “I don’t have time to think about how I talk to people.”

  Tyrell stood up, stretched and sauntered to the door. He had his hand on the doorknob, then he turned back to look at her. “You’d better start thinking about how you talk to people, because if you don’t, you might not have anyone around to listen to you.” He strolled through the door leaving Tameeka gaping; a heartbeat passed before she raced after him.

  9

  Why Every Woman Needs a Best Friend

  You’ll have a 24/7 confidante

  You’ll have a permanent shopping partner

  You’ll have someone to swap clothes with

  You’ll have a sounding and crying board

  You’ll have someone there to catch you when you fall

  Tameeka stirred the pot of lima beans, then sat at the table across from Stacie. It was dinnertime and it was Tameeka’s week to cook, which both of them were grateful for; culinarily challenged, Stacie’s fanciest dish was tuna casserole, and even that was hit or miss.

  “So Carlos still doesn’t know about the car?” Tameeka asked.

  Stacie shook her head. “Nope. I thought she was busted. Remember I told you he’d called her? All he wanted was CoCo’s shoe size.”

  “The Lord must have been looking out for her. ’Cause as soon as Carlos finds out about that car, the shit is gonna hit the fan,” Tameeka vowed.

  “I know,” Stacie lamented, worried for her sister. “I don’t know what possessed her to do something so stupid. She’s finally getting herself together. All her efforts are going to be crap when Carlos finds out. You know what they call him on the street, don’t you?” she asked, giving Tameeka a knowing look. “How could she possibly think the shit she did won’t come back and smack her in the face? And what was she doing, screwing around with that old man and letting him buy her a car? I don’t get it,” Stacie said, then finally noticed what her friend was cooking. “Aw crap! Are you on the bean diet again?” Stacie asked, alarmed. Every time Tameeka went on one of her diets, she had to suffer through it with her.

  “Nu-uh, I had a taste for some lima beans, barbecue turkey wings and corn bread,” she answered, and Stacie breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Girl, you always cooking something,” Stacie teased. “Even when we were little, you were burning in your Easy-Bake Oven.”

  “It calms me, girl,” Tameeka answered, and turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a tray of seasoned turkey wings. “After my store, it’s the next best thing to sex.”

  “I don’t know about all that. More relaxing than sex? You crazy, girl. Ain’t nuthin’ better than sex.”

  “You just got hot panties. Everybody ain’t like you. We all don’t live and die for the dick. So how many men do you have lined up for the week?” Tameeka asked.

  “Not a lot…just Dennis,” Stacie mumbled under her breath.

  “Dennis?” Tameeka asked, her voice incredulous. “The same Dr. Dennis who promised to take you to Savannah, then called to tell you that he and his wife reconciled? That Dennis?” She shook her head.

  “Yeah, that Dennis. They separated again, this time for good.”

  “Whatever,” Tameeka sniffed. “Tyrell was telling me about his boy, who, by the way, is unmarried. I think you should meet him.”

  “Meek, you know I hate blind dates,” Stacie whined. “They’re just so weird. Hell, we’re in Atlanta, who can’t find a date here? Half the people here get picked up just by walking down the street. There must be something wrong with him,” she stated.

  “There’s nothing wrong with him…honest. Tyrell and I just thought it would be a good idea for you two to meet. Then if you guys hit it off, and I know you will, we can double-date.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Just look at it as an adventure. Please think about it, okay?”

  Stacie shrugged. “I might, but don’t be mad at me if I say no. I’m not totally feeling a blind date.”

  “Why, because he doesn’t meet the requirements on your list?” Tameeka asked in a snippy tone.

  “Don’t be getting tart with me,” Stacie said curtly. “I haven’t even met him, so how can I know how he ranks on the list?”

  Tameeka shook her head, disappointed in her friend. “You and that damn list. You know what?” she asked, and Stacie glanced at her. “That damn list ain’t gonna keep you warm at night,” she said, then turned back to the stove and muttered about women not appreciating a good man when they have one.

  “Like you don’t have a list.” Stacie glared at her friend.

  “I don’t,” Tameeka replied.

  “Like hell,” Stacie snorted. “You review your list every time you meet somebody. Now tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged.

  “You’re wrong,” Tameeka replied in a singsong voice. “I don’t have a list,” she insisted.

  “You crazy, girl! Whether or not you want to admit it, you—have—a—list!” Stacie said as she pounded her fist on the counter. “Check it out. What do you do every time a man step to you?” she asked, but plowed on, not giving Tameeka an opportunity to answer. “You decide, based on the standards that you have, whether or not to let him have the digits.”

  “That’s not a list—list,” she said. “It’s just my way of weeding out the jerks,” she explained.

  “Sounds like a list to me,” Stacie muttered. “Okay,” she said in a patient voice, “so if it isn’t a list, then what is it?”

  “Well, it’s a system that I use. And this system does require me to note certain information that determines whether or not the man is worthy of my time,” she answered slowly and deliberately.

  “So when you note your information, how do you keep a running tab of it?”

  “In my head,” Tameeka answered, then tapped her temple. “It’s all here.”

  “Ah-ha! You’re keeping a list. Only it’s internal. That’s all I’m saying.” Stacie smiled triumphantly. “There ain’t nothing wrong with keeping lists, they keep things organized.”

  “They do,” Tameeka agreed. “But why don’t you admit it, your list is c-r-a-z-y. You’re over thirty years old and you’re still keeping a ‘what I want in a man’ list. That’s just crazy,” Tameeka said as she made her way over to the table.

  Tameeka’s words stung. “It might be c-r-a-z-y, as you put it, but I will be going out with my green-eyed, six-foot-two doctor. Who makes over six figures,” she sang. “And he’s good in bed. So something’s gotta be right about the list,” she bragged as she pranced around the kitchen.

  “Is that all you think about?”

  “What else is there?” Stacie shrugged. “Other than sex,” she added.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Tameeka asked, but she didn’t need to. The finality of Stacie’s words said it all. She suddenly felt sad for her friend. “Stace,” she started gently. “There’s more to life than sex and money.” She began ticking items
off with her fingers. “There’s friends and family, good health, good spirit—”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Stacie murmured. “Ain’t hearing it. There’s nothing wrong with money and dick. But you know what would be better?” she asked. “A dick wrapped in money.” They both laughed, then lapsed into a comfortable silence.

  “You know…” Tameeka started, as she put the pan of turkey wings in the oven.

  “Do I know what?” Stacie asked when Tameeka turned around to face her.

  “Don’t get mad,” Tameeka hedged. “Promise me you won’t get mad.”

  Stacie shook her head. “Nope, I’m not making any blind promises. The last time I did, I ended up driving a man to Dallas,” she said.

  “Well, don’t you…have you ever thought that…?” Tameeka stammered, then she breathed deeply and spat out her words. “I think you and Nevia are like two peas in a pod.”

  “No we’re not!” Stacie hotly protested.

  “Yeah you are,” Tameeka shot back at her. “You two have always been alike.”

  Stacie rolled her eyes. “How? Tell me how we’re so similar,” she challenged.

  “Both of y’all use what’s between your legs to get things from men.”

  “Nu-uh,” Stacie objected. “I don’t do that.”

  “You do,” Tameeka firmly countered. “Do you need me to break it down for you?” she asked. Stacie smacked her teeth but nodded her head. “The car is one—”

  “But that doesn’t count. Malcolm gave me Lexie because my Geo Metro broke down.”

  “That’s no excuse, you still accepted it. You could’ve gone out and got one on your own,” Tameeka retorted. “The second is the jewelry. Both of you have enough ice to open a freaking store.” Stacie didn’t say anything; all she did was glare at Tameeka. “And the clothes,” Tameeka continued. “I don’t know who has more, you two or the Hilton sisters.”

  “Are you finished?” Stacie asked. “Let me clarify one thing: I’m not like my sister. Just because men like to give me things, it doesn’t mean anything. I just happen to pick generous men.”