Crazy Love

by Desiree Day

  “How many of those men gave you their gifts before you slept with them?” Tameeka asked, pinning Stacie with a pointed stare.

  “I don’t know. I don’t keep track of stuff like that,” Stacie huffed, but with a sinking feeling she realized that she had slept with each one of her benefactors before the gifts came.

  “Like I said, you and Nevia are alike.”

  “Do you really see me that way?” Stacie asked in a dejected tone.

  “Yeah, but that’s who you are,” Tameeka announced in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “I think you’re jealous because I get all the men and you don’t!” Stacie said, and Tameeka drew back as though she had been slapped.

  When she talked her voice was heavy with unshed tears. “You just don’t get it, do you?” Tameeka said, then sadly walked out of the kitchen.

  Are Nevia and I really alike? Stacie wondered. Do I use my coochie as an ATM card? The answer flickered in front of her, but she swiped it away. “Meek! Hold up, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” Stacie apologized and took off after Tameeka. “I’m sorry, Meek!” Stacie said, and Tameeka looked her in the eyes before slamming her bedroom door in Stacie’s face.

  10

  Fear Sprouts from Ignorance…Confidence Flows from Knowledge

  When she heard the front door close, Tameeka slipped out of bed and strolled into the living room.

  “A-ha!” Stacie shouted. “I knew you’ve been avoiding me.”

  Tameeka froze in her tracks. “Nu-uh,” she hotly denied.

  “Have too. For the past week you’ve been avoiding me like I was a Jehovah’s Witness.”

  “Whatever,” Tameeka said, shrugging. “I’ve got to get ready for work,” she said, and turned toward the bathroom.

  “I’m sorry, Meek. I’m really sorry for what I said,” Stacie apologized, her voice ringing with sincerity. Tameeka stopped, and Stacie talked to her back. “I was being a bitch. Can’t we forget about it?”

  Tameeka looked over her shoulder, then said, “I don’t know. You really hurt me.” She quickly showered and hurried off to work, leaving behind an upset Stacie.

  Tyrell happily rang up the customers’ purchases and they all walked out of Heaven on Earth with smiles on their faces. Tameeka had to admit that he was a natural people person; the customers loved him. This was only his third weekend in the store and he already knew more about her regular customers’ personal lives than she did. He was friendly and funny, a winning combination in any profession, but very lucrative in retail.

  She noticed that he had put a customer’s purchase in a bag that looked like it was too small and she started toward the register. Halfway there she stopped herself and thought that if the customer didn’t complain, then she shouldn’t. Turning around on her heels, she headed to her office where she had a stack of invoices two inches thick that needed to be taken care of.

  Tyrell grinned as soon as he saw her walk toward her office. He had seen her hovering nearby, pretending to arrange a display, but he knew she was really keeping an eye on him.

  “You must really like your job,” a teasing voice said, pulling his attention back to the counter.

  “Huh?” Tyrell answered and found himself face-to-face with one of the most beautiful ladies he had ever laid eyes on. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Suddenly his tongue felt too big for his mouth. “Er—I don’t—um, do this full time, I’m helping out a friend,” he managed to sputter out, and she giggled.

  “Well, you should be doing it full time, you’re good with people.”

  Tyrell shook his head and as his senses returned, he began scanning her purchases. “Thanks, but I enjoy my full-time job,” he answered.

  “So what do you do?”

  “Drive a bus…I’m a bus driver for the City of Atlanta.”

  “So you still deal with people. Well, you are wonderful at it,” she complimented, and smiled widely at him. “Is that any good?” she asked. Tyrell had just scanned her mango-scented massage oil and was about to drop it in the bag, but his hand stopped midair. He chuckled. He was remembering the time he had used it on Tameeka. “Ooh, it must be good. Listen to that laugh, it sounds downright naughty,” the customer flirted.

  Tyrell smiled and totaled her purchases; he waited while she wrote him a check. She passed the check to him, along with her driver’s license. He glanced at her driver’s license, then glanced at her. “You really aren’t that old, are you? Oh, my bad. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he apologized, but the customer simply laughed.

  “I’m not that old. But yep, that’s my age,” she said proudly; she was used to people’s reactions.

  “Damn, you look good! I say this for all the brothas—please keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

  “It’s nothing but good genes and healthy living,” the customer replied humbly. Then when Tyrell was expecting her to pick up her bags, she handed him her business card instead. At that very moment Tameeka stepped out of her office and stopped in her tracks. She cocked her head and watched the scene through narrowed eyes. “I’m the manager of Customer Service at Coca-Cola, call me if you want to change careers or anything else,” she said, and gave him a playful wink.

  Tyrell slipped the card in his pants pocket and turned to watch her walk away. Even carrying two plastic bags, she managed to look sexy.

  “Wow!” Trent sauntered into the store just in time to hear the customer’s parting comment. “She was all over you!” He pulled off his backpack and flung it behind the counter.

  “Naw, man. She was being friendly, that’s all,” Tyrell replied modestly.

  “She was tight!”

  “She was aw’ight,” Tyrell said in a way that let Trent know that the subject was closed.

  “I thought she was fine,” Trent muttered, then headed back to Tameeka’s office to clock in.

  Tameeka still hadn’t moved. She was so still that if the store had had mannequins she would’ve been mistaken for one. She’s everything that I’m not: thin, sophisticated and drop-dead gorgeous, Tameeka fumed. Finally she unstuck herself and rushed over to Bea. She wanted to fling herself into Bea’s arms and cry; instead she hissed through clenched teeth, “Did you see that? Did you see Tyrell flirting with that lady? He even took her business card.”

  “You know, Meek, jumping to conclusions isn’t an exercise that you’d want to spend your day doing,” Bea said wisely. “Tyrell’s a good man. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

  “Sometimes people can’t help hurting people,” Tameeka said, then she hissed, “especially when somebody is pushing their titties all up in their face.” She glared at Tyrell; she wanted to go over and ask him what was going on.

  “Don’t you bother that man,” Bea cautioned, reading her mind. “He didn’t do nothing but take her business card. And I didn’t see him offer her anything.”

  “Just because he didn’t give her his phone number, doesn’t mean that he’s not going to call her,” Tameeka bristled.

  “Tameeka…” Bea started, but Tameeka was already on her way across the store.

  “Hey, baby!” Tyrell said as he leaned over and kissed her. Tameeka tilted her head down so that his lips fell on the top of her head.

  “Don’t do that here,” she spat, and Tyrell drew back as though she had slapped him. “It’s very unprofessional.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled. During the midmorning rush, she had let him kiss her. She even whispered a naughty promise in his ear that forced him to hide behind the counter for a full fifteen minutes.

  “Is there a raffle going on that I don’t know about?” she asked in a deliberately slow voice.

  “What?”

  “The business card. You’re collecting business cards. Most times when people are collecting business cards they’re having a raffle. I repeat, are we having a raffle?” she asked between clenched teeth.

  “I’m not collecting bus—” He smiled as he remembered. “Oh snap, that business card. That was
nothing, baby. She was being friendly.”

  “Friendly, my ass!” Tameeka shrieked. “She wasn’t being friendly, she was trying to pick you up, and you ate it up, every single drop if it.”

  “Tameeka,” Tyrell soothed; he had come from behind the counter and put his hands on her shoulders but she just shrugged them off.

  “So who’s it going to be? Me or the one you’re swapping business cards with?” Tameeka asked coldly.

  11

  Single Father’s Guide to Dating Tip #25

  Never, ever trust a woman who wears more makeup than a Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus clown.

  Jackson Brown stretched his long legs and settled back in his chair at Houston’s, one of his favorite places to eat. It was the only place in Atlanta where Abercrombie, Tommy Hilfiger and Armani collided on a daily basis. A lady sitting across from him caught his eye; he returned her gaze with a wink that promised he’d hook up with her before he left. He glanced over at his son, who was glumly staring down at his plate. “Hey, eat your food.”

  “I don’t like hamburgers,” Jameel grumbled. “I want a hot dog,” he whined.

  “Come on, Jam. If you eat your hamburger, I’ll buy you a sundae on the way home,” Jackson bargained, something he never thought he’d be doing with his son.

  Jameel considered the offer, then shook his head. “I want a hot dog,” he repeated.

  “Jameel, hamburgers are good for you. See, look at my muscles,” he said, then rolled up his Sean John shirt and flexed his biceps.

  “But, Daddy, if hot dogs are so bad, how come we ate them last night?” he argued, his face scrunched up like a misshapen potato.

  Jackson suppressed a smile. Jameel had him. For eight years old he was smart. “Let’s get you a hot dog.” He motioned toward the waitress, Amy, a twenty-year-old Asian lady whom he’d dated a couple months ago. She had done things to him that he had only seen in movies. But he had a three-date rule; after that, the women were history. Seeing that he needed her, Amy made a beeline to Jackson, going so fast across the floor that she nearly knocked over another waiter. She took his order and rushed it to the kitchen.

  “Eat your French fries,” Jackson said to Jameel, who was waving them around as though they were swords. His cell phone rang, stopping him from yelling at Jameel. A quick check to the screen showed that it was his boy Tyrell. “Look who finally decided to come up for air,” Jackson joked. “So you finally decided to pull your nose out of her pus—” He glanced sharply at Jameel, who’d decided to make little houses with his French fries. “So you finally decided to call a brotha,” he improvised, and Tyrell chuckled; whenever Jackson gave him the rated-G version, he knew Jameel was close by.

  “Don’t hate, man. Where are you?” Tyrell asked, but then he heard Amy’s voice as she set Jameel’s hot dog in front of him. “At Houston’s?” he asked, laughing. “So is she going to be the first chick to break the three-date rule?”

  “Naw, man…not even close. That’s history,” Jackson snickered. “But you have to give her props for trying,” he said, eyeing Amy.

  “Word! So how many numbers did you get today?”

  “Only three,” Jackson modestly replied as he kept an eye on Jameel as he squeezed ketchup on his hot dog, then took a big bite of it.

  “If you get bored, I can hook you up with my girl’s best friend,” Tyrell offered.

  Jackson frowned. “Thanks…but no thanks. I don’t do blind dates. Check it out, I need to run, number four just walked into the restaurant,” he said. “Damn! You’re fine,” Jackson whispered. She was the hottest lady he had seen in a long time.

  “Ooh, you said a bad word,” Jameel squealed, and Jackson quickly apologized.

  “How come you heard that, but you can never hear me calling you in the morning?” he asked, and Jameel giggled in response, then took another bite out of his hot dog.

  A couple tables across from Jackson and Jameel, Stacie eyed Tameeka. “So we straight?”

  Tameeka smiled and nodded her head. “Girl, you’re a hot mess, but we’re cool,” she assured her, but her next words were a warning. “But you really need to stop blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind. Next time you say some shit like that to me, I’ma kick your behind.”

  Stacie snorted. “Yeah right, I doubt it. You think killing an ant is murder.”

  “Don’t try me! I’ll get Tyrell and both of us will sit on your skinny butt until you’re as flat as a pancake,” Tameeka warned.

  “Okay, okay. Dang girl, you don’t have to get all tough on me,” Stacie said, grinning at the lady whom she considered more of a sister than a friend. “I’ll watch my big mouth,” she promised. “I missed you, Meek,” Stacie admitted softly.

  “Missed you too girl,” Tameeka confessed, then, “Check him out,” she said, jutting her chin toward a man that reminded her of Mario Van Peebles.

  Tameeka shook her head and grinned. Stacie’s taste in men changed faster than her hair weaves. “Ask and you shall receive,” she replied, nodding toward Jackson. “And don’t you ever say that I never give you anything. It’s time to move on, girl. Crawford is old news.”

  Stacie nervously cleared her throat. “Meek?” she called, and Tameeka turned her eyes on her. “You remember when I told you that I broke up with Crawford because he was bad in bed? I didn’t break up with him, he broke up with me…well, he stopped calling me.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Tameeka soothed, then patted her friend’s hand. She’d suspected as much. Stacie giving up a multimillionaire was as unlikely as Donald Trump having a good hair day. “His loss,” Tameeka murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Stacie shrugged. “I guess I was just another groupie in his rotation. But I liked him,” she admitted. “I missed our talks so much. I don’t like it when we argue. The last three weeks were horrible. I tried talking to Nevia, but she didn’t get half the stuff I told her.”

  “I know what you mean. I tried talking to Tyrell, but all he did was look at me like I was crazy. I’m glad Lexie broke down and you had to call me. You’re my best friend, let’s not blow it over pettiness, okay?”

  Stacie agreed. “Even though Crawford and I hardly went out, we had a good time together. I guess he reminds me of Crawford,” Stacie said, jutting her chin at Jackson.

  “He doesn’t look like Crawford,” Tameeka said, surveying Jackson. Where Crawford was the color of brown-tinted milk, Jackson was glowing bronze. Instead of Crawford’s wavy hair, Jackson’s hair colored his scalp. The only similarity was their height; even though he was sitting down, Tameeka could tell that he was tall.

  “You’re right, he doesn’t, but he looks like a player. Look at him.” The young lady he had been admiring earlier was standing at his table, fawning over him as though he was Morris Chestnut.

  “He’s gorgeous! So women are always gonna be up in his face,” Tameeka said matter-of-factly. “Besides, he looks too smart to get caught up,” she concluded. “And look at him with his little boy. He looks like he was born to be a father.”

  “Oh, you can tell all that just by looking at him? Puh-leeze! Girl, you are plain crazy.”

  “Well. I don’t think that I’m crazy, but I’m going over to say something to him. Single fathers should be given a pat on the back,” she said as she shoved her chair back, then stood up.

  “Oh gawd. Meek, leave the man alone. He’s probably gonna think that you’re trying to pick him up. Meeka! Come back here,” Stacie ordered. “Tameeka!” she repeated, then scrambled out of her seat to chase after her friend.

  Tameeka approached Jackson’s table. “Hi, guys,” she beamed.

  Jameel piped up with a cheery hello, his father quickly followed and introductions were made.

  Jackson smiled as he studied Tameeka. It was a friendly perusal, not at all sexually laced. It looked like she had closed her eyes, reached into her closet and pulled out the first two pieces of clothing her hands had touched. She was wearing black-and-red-checkere
d hip huggers and a purple-and-green-striped shirt. She wasn’t his type—he preferred smaller women—but she was genuine and he liked that.

  His gaze surreptitiously slipped to Stacie, and his penis twitched with excitement; she was finer up close. She was standing next to Tameeka, with her arms crossed under her breasts; boredom marred her pretty face.

  “Come on, Meek, we need to leave now,” she insisted. “We have that appointment, remember?” It was getting late and she wanted to get home for her date. But Tameeka ignored her and kept talking. Stacie smacked her teeth, then turned on her heels to go.

  Two steps later, she heard a howl so loud and pain-filled that it caused her to stop dead in her tracks. She whirled around and saw that Jameel had spilled his cola. His face had melted and tears flowed down his face. It took less than two steps for Stacie to be at Jameel’s side and only two seconds for her to scoop him into her arms. Jackson’s mouth went slack with amazement as Stacie comforted his son.

  “Oh baby,” she cooed, using a singsong tone that she used with her nieces whenever they were sad. “It’s okay. It’s only soda. Did you spill any on you?” She did a quick appraisal of his clothing and she didn’t find a drop of soda. “Let me dry that cute little face of yours.” She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at Jameel’s face. It didn’t take long before Stacie had him giggling. “Come on, let’s go get you another drink,” she said as she held out her hand and Jameel slipped his hand into hers.

  Jameel peeked over at his father, and Jackson gave his nod of approval. They walked off toward the waitresses’s station. He could see Jameel yammering and Stacie nodding and smiling down at him as if he was disclosing the secret of life to her.

  All the while Tameeka continued talking and Jackson listened to her with half an ear. All he heard was “wonderful single father.” It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the respect, but he was watching the lady with the delicious rear end talking to his son. By now he was sitting back in his chair, his legs sticking out and his arms folded across his chest. To the casual observer, it looked like he was in relax mode, but every one of his senses was heightened. He was ready to pounce like a tiger if anything happened to Jameel. If anyone had told him that men didn’t possess the same fierce, protective love toward their children as women, he’d laugh in their face. He didn’t relax until he saw them returning.