Crazy Love

by Desiree Day

  “Damn!” Tyrell exclaimed. “Was that your stomach? It sounded like Amtrak ran through here,” he joked, which set them both off laughing.

  “I haven’t eaten since this morning,” she admitted.

  He drew back to look her in the eyes. “Six o’clock?” he clarified. They had eaten breakfast together.

  “Yep. That’d be the correct time.”

  “That was fourteen hours ago,” Tyrell said, then tightened his grip around her. “Oh, baby, you gotta eat. Let me go get you something. What are you in the mood for? Any dietary restrictions?” he joked.

  Tameeka stuck her tongue out at him. “No diets this week…I could go for some wings,” she decided. “How does that sound?”

  “Cool. I know a good place on Ponce. I’ll be back in about thirty,” he said as he lifted Tameeka off his lap and settled her on the couch, then stood up.

  “Wait, where you going?” she asked. “There’s a guy right across the street whose wings are the bomb. And he gives the neighborhood businesses a discount.”

  “Okay. Call the order in and I’ll pick it up,” Tyrell offered as he settled back on the couch.

  Tameeka shook her head. “He’s really funny about stuff like that. He has to see the owner in order to give the discount.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Tameeka said; now that she had made up her mind about eating, she had gotten her second wind.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Tyrell offered.

  Tameeka smiled. “That’s sweet, but it’s right across the street—see.” She pulled him toward the window and pointed the shop out.

  “Okay.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a fifty-dollar bill. “Get some fries, a couple hamburgers, some milk shakes and something for dessert. I’m starving too,” he said, realizing that he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

  “Thanks, sweetie.” Tameeka stood on her tiptoes and kissed Tyrell. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. As soon as the door closed, Tyrell turned to the window to watch her walk across the street. He didn’t budge until she strolled into the restaurant, then he turned to the empty store. This was the first time he had been in it alone.

  Tameeka hadn’t totaled the receipts yet, but he knew she had to have done over three thousand dollars in business today. He gave an appreciative whistle as he glanced around the store; it was easy to see that Tameeka had done her homework before opening Heaven on Earth. She had just about every wellness potion on the market, and even after the busy sales day, everything was neat and in its place.

  “What we need,” he murmured to himself, “is a place for us to eat.” He slowly wandered around the store until he spied a small, round table in the corner.

  “Perfect.” He pulled it to the middle of the store. “Now all I need is some music and some candlelight,” he decided, and began making a second trip around Heaven on Earth.

  He was slipping in Prince’s new CD when he heard a noise.

  “Yo, Meek, you still here?” Mohammad came bounding through the door wearing his usual khakis, but was shirtless. He skidded to a stop when he saw Tyrell. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, jutting his chin at Tyrell. “Where’s Meek?”

  “She ran out,” Tyrell answered, and quickly sized Mohammad up; there was something about him he didn’t like. “What do you need?” he asked.

  Mohammad grinned sheepishly. “Deodorant. I ran out and Meek always gives me some,” he explained with a shrug.

  “Oh, go help yourself,” Tyrell said, and watched through narrowed eyes as Mohammad sauntered over to the beauty section and scooped up a bottle of deodorant. A thought suddenly came to Tyrell. “Yo, man, how did you get in? All the doors were locked. Is there some kind of security breach I should be aware of?” he asked half-jokingly.

  “Naw, man. I work upstairs,” Mohammad answered as he made his way across the room with an extended hand. “I’m Mohammad. Meek gave me a key to the place.”

  Tyrell froze and he dropped Mohammad’s hand. “Mohammad,” he repeated, and he got a prickly sensation in the back of his ears. “And you work upstairs?” he asked.

  “Yep!” Mohammad answered as he unabashedly rolled on his deodorant. “I’m one of the best artists in the Southeast. If you’re looking for really unique pieces, I’m the man.”

  “How long have you known Tameeka?” Tyrell spat.

  The smile slipped from Mohammad’s face. “Hey man, we’re just friends, that’s all. Very good friends,” he answered as he started backing away. Tyrell slowly advanced, like a lion stalking its prey. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “How long have you known Tameeka?” Tyrell repeated in a deadly voice.

  “A couple years. I can’t remember,” Mohammad sputtered, silently praying that he was close to the door.

  “You can’t remember how long you’ve known the lady you’ve been sleeping with?” Tyrell asked, as he pressed forward. His hands were curled into fists and the closer he got to Mohammad, the higher they inched up to a fighting stance.

  Tameeka stumbled through the door with three bags full of food; she got everything Tyrell wanted and then some additional goodies. She kicked the door shut, then looked up to see Mohammad crouching and Tyrell standing over him, his hands balled into fists. Her eyes widened to the size of pizzas. “Oh, shit!” she uttered as their dinner slipped from her hands.

  14

  Single Father’s Guide to Dating Tip #5

  One-night stands are like a roller coaster: The ride is exhilarating, you’ll scream the loudest you ever have in your life, but once it’s over, you’re nauseous as hell.

  Jackson sauntered around his bedroom, wearing nothing but a towel knotted around his waist. He bent down to pick up a stray sock and the towel slipped off, revealing his body. He had an eight-pack that rippled, muscled arms that were bigger than Mike Tyson’s and a butt that was chiseled to perfection.

  He slipped into his pussy prowl outfit: black Prada turtleneck, black Marc Jacobs slacks and his Sean John black leather jacket.

  Dressed, Jackson strolled down the hall to the living room where his grandmother, Ettie Mae, and Jameel were sitting in front of the TV.

  “See ya, Jam!” Jackson shouted, and Jam absentmindedly waved at him. “See ya, Grandma.”

  “Be careful driving,” Ettie Mae said as she did every time Jackson left the house, as though the very words shrouded him from an accident. Jackson slid behind the wheel of his SUV and headed toward downtown Atlanta to one of his favorite clubs. A glance at his watch told him that he’d make it to the club around midnight, the time when shit got popping.

  Jackson let his mind wander as he drove. He smiled at his grandmother’s words; she was his second mother. When he was barely eight years old, his parents were killed in a car accident and Ettie Mae had taken him and raised him.

  Forty minutes later, Jackson was inside the club and sipping his favorite drink. He lazily surveyed the crowd over his glass, passing over women whose makeup was more than an inch thick. His eyes fell on one particular lady: she was sitting in a corner table along with four other ladies. Even though she was sitting down, Jackson could tell that she had legs that stopped at her chest.

  He downed his drink before walking over to the table, stopping halfway to buy a single red rose. He stopped at the table and conversation ceased; five pairs of eyes locked on him and the rose he carried.

  “I wish I had a rose for each of you,” he said, grinning sheepishly before he handed the rose to the lady who caught his eye.

  He leaned down and whispered in her ear: “Can we go somewhere private?” After a hurried conversation with her friends, she nodded and gathered up her things and followed Jackson to a cozy booth. It took Jackson ten minutes to learn that her name was Tonia, she worked as a model part time, did temporary work the other half and had been in Atlanta over a year.

  “Has anyone told you that you look like Keenan Ivory Wayans?” Tonia flirted.

  “Is that a good thing?�
�

  “Very good. I think he’s sexy as hell. Have you ever thought about modeling?” she asked, taking in his smooth complexion and chiseled face. The turtleneck showed off his wide, muscular chest.

  Jackson softly stroked her cheek. “Naw. I’m not the model type, but I can see how you are. You’re very beautiful. What’s someone with your looks doing spending Saturday night at a club?”

  Flattered, Tonia gazed at Jackson, entranced. “It’s better than sitting at home alone.”

  “You need a man who’d give you a bubble bath, feed you breakfast in bed and give you nightly massages.”

  “Mmm…that sounds delicious. Can you do all that?” Tonia coyly asked.

  Jackson ran his finger over Tonia’s lips. “I can do all that and more for you, baby. Wanna see?” he asked as he leaned in closer so that their mouths were only inches apart.

  “Yeah,” Tonia breathed.

  “Do you live close by?” Jackson asked, skimming his lips over Tonia’s.

  “About thirty minutes away,” Tonia said, then rapidly blinked as though waking up from a trance. “You mean now? You want to come over now?” she asked, then shook her head.

  “I just met you. I don’t do one-night stands,” she huffed, conveniently blocking out last month’s.

  “Naw, baby, that’s what you think this is? Well, it’s not. I’m feeling you. All I want to do is give you a massage. That’s it.”

  “Really?”

  “Honest.”

  Tonia hesitated, then, “Okay, let me tell my girls I’m leaving. I’ll meet you out front. You can follow me.”

  “Cool.” Jackson slapped a twenty on the table and followed Tonia. He glanced down at his watch. Thirty minutes; not bad, he mused. Jackson discovered that Tonia lived closer to the club than she’d said, and they were at her house in twenty minutes.

  “You’re leaving already?” Tonia squinted at the clock. “It’s four o’clock. Stay and we can go out to breakfast.”

  Jackson slipped into his pants. The scent of sex had simmered down to a funky sock smell. “Naw, baby, I can’t. I can’t sleep in other people’s bed. I’m funny about that.”

  “Are we going out later this week?” Tonia asked, her voice bordering on whiney.

  “Let me check my schedule and I’ll get back to you,” Jackson said as he tugged on his turtleneck. “Give me your number.” Tonia gave it to him and he programmed it into his phone. Tonia kissed him good-bye and watched her meal ticket drive off.

  Jackson got home to find his house all lit up. His heart thudded as he jumped out of his truck and raced up the stairs. Ettie Mae was standing outside Jameel’s room, her lips pressed into a thin line. “What happened?”

  “He’s having a bad asthma attack.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Jackson asked, panicked.

  “I did, but you didn’t answer.”

  Jackson pulled out his phone. “Shit! I’ve had it on vibrate. Did you call nine-one-one?” he asked. Ettie Mae nodded. A couple minutes later the faint sounds of sirens could be heard.

  Jackson ran out to the porch and frantically waved to the ambulance. “Over here! Over here!”

  15

  Whenever There’s a Speck of Dirt…There’s Always the Possibility of It Turning to Mud

  Tyrell had dragged his and Tameeka’s argument from Heaven on Earth to his home. Their dinner lay cold on the kitchen table and Tameeka sat mannequin still on the couch. The only things moving were her eyes, which glared at him with deadly precision.

  “What part of this don’t you understand?” Tyrell asked in a deceptively calm voice, his temper simmering beneath his skin. “I asked you at the store, I asked you on the way here and I asked you twenty minutes ago. Now I’m gonna tell you, I want that motherfucker gone!” he roared, his temper erupting like a volcano, spewing over Tameeka and she jumped; she had never seen this side of him.

  “I can’t make him,” she whimpered, and Tyrell cocked an eyebrow at her. “He just renewed his lease,” she hastily explained.

  “For how long?”

  Tameeka mentally pulled up the contract, and did some quick calculating, “Five years,” she answered, and swiped at the tears that were beginning to fall.

  “Break it,” Tyrell said coldly.

  “I can’t…I’ll end up losing money,” Tameeka sniffed, and Tyrell walked over to the counter, snatching up a couple of paper towels and handing them to her.

  “What’s more important, money or us?”

  “Us, of course,” Tameeka answered before she blew into the paper towel.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that he worked above you and had a key to your place?”

  “Because I knew you were gonna react like this,” Tameeka countered.

  “Do you blame me?” Tyrell asked. “Can you fucking blame me? You call out some other dude’s name while I’m making love to you. You tell me that it’s over…but you don’t tell me that you see him every day and he has a key to your store—something that I don’t even have!”

  “You can have one if you want,” Tameeka offered.

  “I don’t want a fucking key,” Tyrell hissed. “I want him out of your store.”

  “I can’t just kick him out,” Tameeka argued.

  “Yeah you can. Let me see that contract you have with him,” he said, looking around. He stopped when he realized they were at his place and not Tameeka’s. She saw his confusion and smothered a giggle.

  “You laughing at me?” Tyrell asked in a gruff voice.

  “Yep,” Tameeka answered, then stood up and hugged Tyrell. “I don’t like it when we argue.”

  “Then get him to move,” Tyrell spat out as he disentangled her arms from around his neck, then stepped away from her.

  Tameeka inhaled sharply and let it out with a loud smack of her teeth. “Oh, I get it…you don’t trust me.”

  “I don’t trust his ass.”

  “No, I don’t believe that,” Tameeka said, her eyes refilling with tears. “You think that I can’t keep my legs closed.”

  “No, Meek, it’s not like that. I trust you. I’m a dude, I know how we think.”

  Tameeka sniffled. “How do y’all think?”

  “We’re all vultures, waiting until the boyfriend fucks up, then we swoop in for the scoop up.”

  “So you think Mohammad is circling me?” Tameeka whispered as she batted her eyes at Tyrell.

  “I’m not going to let him get my baby,” Tyrell said, then pulled Tameeka into his arms. She smiled against his chest.

  They stood together like that until Tameeka’s hand slipped down and cupped Tyrell’s butt, and gave it a squeeze.

  A jolt of excitement ran through him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Whatever you want me to,” Tameeka answered, then grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the couch. She gently pushed him down and immediately straddled him, then tenderly covered his face with kisses. Leaning forward, she began blowing in his ear, soft, misty breaths that made his heart beat double time.

  “You’re not going to make me change my mind,” Tyrell argued weakly. Tameeka smiled to herself as she gently tongued his ear. “That’s not going to do it,” he said. With the tip of her tongue, Tameeka stroked the back of his neck. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said, and carried her to his room.

  Later that night, Tameeka slid out of bed and padded to the kitchen where she microwaved some food. She took two plates back to the bedroom for her and Tyrell. She nudged him awake.

  “Who knew that eating wings at two o’clock in the morning would be the bomb?” Tameeka asked around a mouthful of poultry. She hadn’t eaten in what felt like years, and any sense of decorum she usually had flew out the window.

  “Hey baby, you’re dripping sauce,” Tyrell said.

  “Where?”

  “Here,” Tyrell said as he leaned over and licked a dab of barbecue sauce off her breast.

  “Um, baby, keep doing that and I’m gonna pour the whole bottle over me,�
�� she drawled.

  “Do it and I’ll lick every drop off,” Tyrell promised, and Tameeka shivered with anticipation. Then her cell phone rang. “Who the hell is calling you this time of the night?” he asked, glaring at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “I don’t know who’d be calling me this late,” she said as she ran to the living room. With barbecue-sauced hands she fished her phone out of her purse. With the phone at her ear, she wandered back into the bedroom and sat down next to Tyrell.

  “Well, who was it?” Tyrell asked when Tameeka clicked off the phone and resumed eating her wings.

  She continued chewing until Tyrell looked like he was going to grab the plate from her. She swallowed her food, then said, “Um, Mohammad. He was checking on me. That’s all,” she shrugged.

  “Is he afraid that I’ll kick your ass?”

  Tameeka hurriedly shook her head. “Nothing like that.”

  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what we talked about. I don’t want you talking to him again. I don’t trust his shifty ass.”

  “But Tyrell—”

  “You my girl, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts, Tameeka, either you’re with me one hundred percent or you’re not. I don’t want you talking to him after he returns the key to you.”

  Tameeka’s blood boiled. “What happens if I lose my keys, who’ll let me in? Mohammad was always my backup.”

  Tyrell wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll be your backup, baby. Just promise me that you’ll get the store keys from him and never talk to him again.” He was met with silence. “Promise me, Tameeka,” he demanded.

  16

  What I Want in a Relationship

  Trust

  Spontaneity

  Communication

  Adventure

  Do you ever get tired of it?” Stacie asked, peeking over her shoulder at Tameeka. They were standing in Stacie’s bedroom and Tameeka was struggling to raise the zipper on Stacie’s dress. The dress was one of Stacie’s favorites; it was the color of a sunflower, it stopped at the middle of her thighs and it hugged every one of her curves. Unfortunately, it took two people to get into it. “You know,” she continued when Tameeka gave her a quizzical gaze. “Getting dressed up and everything.”