by Desiree Day
“Nuthin’,” Nevia mumbled.
“What’s wrong,” Stacie asked, concerned. Her sister didn’t answer. Stacie took a calming breath. So she’s in a shitty mood. “Did you do anything fun today?” Stacie inquired cheerfully.
“I’m gonna get my car back,” Nevia grumbled.
Stacie sighed. Ever since Carlos had taken the car, all Nevia had talked about was getting it back. “Nev, let it drop. Carlos will kill you if you keep bothering him about that damn car. You can always get another one.” Stacie glanced at the clock; she had five minutes to make it to the bus stop. She hurried out the door.
“I want that car. And I’m gonna get it,” she said firmly. “’Bye!”
“Nevia, wait!” Stacie yelled. All she got was a dial tone. “Oh crap,” she groaned. “She’s gonna get herself killed.”
34
Single Father’s Guide to Dating Tip # 49
Your child’s love is brighter than any star, don’t do anything to dim it.
Jackson swung open the door, eyeing Michelle, the same way he would a pile of dog shit. Smirking, Michelle raised her head, squared her shoulders and strutted into the house. “I didn’t realize there was going to be a welcoming committee,” she said, eyeing Stacie. She remembered seeing her in court with Jackson, and she’d wondered who she was. Michelle’s eyes dropped down to Stacie’s ring finger; it was bare. She’s not his fiancée, she concluded. Now she stood next to Jackson, looking like a wall of protection for Jameel. “Where’s my son?” Michelle calmly asked.
“My son is in the backyard playing.” As soon as the doorbell rang, Jackson had sent Jameel back outside. “I’ll go get him.” Jackson turned on his heel. While Jackson was gone, Stacie and Michelle studied each other like two Rottweilers in a pit. Jackson returned and then wrapped an arm around Stacie’s waist. Stacie rested her head on his chest, grateful for his strength. After Nevia’s call, she had called Pimp and asked him to keep an eye on her. Stacie knew Nevia would be okay: Pimp was better protection than the FBI.
Jackson’s lips grazed the top of Stacie’s head. Michelle saw the tenderness in Jackson’s movements and her heart thudded with envy. Not because she wanted him, but because she remembered how deeply and thoroughly Jackson loved.
A few seconds later, Jameel raced into the room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Michelle. He wasn’t sure what to do; he looked at her, then at his daddy for an answer. Seeing his confusion, Jackson leaned down and spoke softly.
“Jam, remember I told you we’re having a guest today?” Jameel nodded solemnly; something about his father’s voice made his tummy feel funny. “This is Miss Michelle,” Jackson forced out. “Tell her hi,” Jackson instructed and Jameel held out his hand for a handshake and shyly greeted her.
“Ooh, aren’t you the little man,” Michelle cooed.
“My daddy taught me that,” he said, and smiled brightly. “He told me that whenever I meet somebody new I should shake their hand. And I do,” he said proudly, then looked over at Jackson for his approval. His smile grew even broader when Jackson gave him the thumbs-up.
“Yeah, that’s good,” Michelle said without much enthusiasm. “So what do you like to do?”
Jameel thought hard, then he said, “You wanna swing? Me and Leila were playing, but she got tired and I was a little tired too, so I asked her if she wanted to play cowboys and she said no, she said that she didn’t want to play cowboys because I cheat too much, so I told her okay and then I asked her if she wanted to color and she made a funny face and told me no, she didn’t want to because I didn’t have grape color and I told her that I had a bunch of other colors, but she said that she didn’t want to color without grape, so I said okay, then I asked her if—”
“Okay!” Michelle shouted and Jameel clamped his mouth shut. Michelle wearily rubbed her temples.
“Jam, why don’t you go wash up.”
“I’ll take you,” Stacie offered, and she led Jameel off to the bathroom. As soon as his son was out of earshot, Jackson rounded on Michelle.
“What’s wrong, Michelle? Tired of being a mommy?” he mocked. “Aw, poor baby, you were right eight years ago. You have no business raising a child.”
Michelle let her hands drop to her side. “Obviously somebody thinks that I’ll be good at it. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” she quipped.
“Well, the judicial system isn’t always right,” Jackson angrily snapped.
“When are you going to forgive me, Jackson? Huh? Don’t you think I know what I did was wrong?” She moved closer to him. The top of her head barely reached his chest. “Every damn night I cried knowing that I gave away a piece of myself.”
Jackson looked away.
“I’m a crackhead and a former prostitute who sold her pussy for money so that I could get high. That was wrong. I ain’t trying to sugarcoat it. What I did was wrong. I know that,” she said, her voice quivering; she took a deep breath to steady it, then said, “Why can’t you forgive me? He did.” She pointed to the ceiling.
Jackson let out a mirthless laugh. “So you found God now? And He’s forgiven you? How do you know? Did He send you a sign?” Jackson taunted. “Or since you’re so important, I bet He made a special trip just to tell you that He’s forgiven you. That’s bullshit, Michelle. You’re still the same person. You haven’t changed one bit,” he spat at her.
“You’re the one with the fucking bullshit!” Michelle screamed, her face wet with tears. Her first visit with her son wasn’t going the way she had envisioned it. “Yes, I made a mistake. Why don’t you give me a chance to prove that I’m sincere?” she pleaded. “Why?”
“What will it take for you to get the hell out of our lives? Do you want money? What about drugs?” He lowered his voice, then said, “I know a dude, Li’l Dog. He can hook you up, just let him know that J sent you.”
“How much money are you talking? A hundred, two hundred?” Her eyes held a calculating glint that Jackson didn’t miss and his heart started pounding with anticipation.
“Nu-uh, more than that. A couple thou,” he said, as he calculated the balance of his savings account. He had over fifteen thousand saved up. He’d gladly give it all to her, just to get her out of their lives.
Michelle pushed down her laughter and she was almost successful until she saw Jackson’s expression. It was the same one a hunter wears when his prey steps into the trap. Her laughter bubbled up and spilled out of her.
“What’s so funny?” Jackson asked, looking perplexed.
“You are. You’re so fucking funny. Acting like we on TV and shit.” She shook her head. “So how is it supposed to work? Huh?” she asked. “Maybe something like this: You buy me off. I quietly fade out of your life, then you and Jameel live happily ever after. It ain’t gonna happen! This ain’t The Young and the Restless and you ain’t no Victor. But maybe I should do it,” she said thoughtfully. “Then when Jameel gets old enough I can show him how you tried to keep him away from his mother.”
She’s right. I don’t want Jam blaming me for not letting him see his mother, no matter how fucked-up she is. “Whatever. Look,” he said calmly. “I don’t like your ass, and I don’t trust your ass. But you are Jameel’s mother, so—”
“You’re my mommy?” Jameel asked, wonderment filling his voice. He wanted a mommy. Everybody on TV had one.
“Aw shit!” Jackson muttered.
Stacie hurried to Jackson’s side. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I shouldn’t’ve brought him back so soon.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jackson said.
Michelle ran over to Jameel and pulled him to her in a hug. “That’s right, Jameel. I’m your mother and you’re my son,” she answered as she laughed between tears. She had been waiting eight years to say those words, and they felt sweet coming out of her mouth. “You’re so handsome,” Michelle cooed as her hands ran freely over his face. “Just like your father. And I bet you’re smart in school,” she said, then looked to Jackson. He was too stunne
d to confirm, he simply gazed at the pair.
Jameel was momentarily dazed by the news, but quickly adapted as Michelle told him about all the fun things they were going to do together.
“Can we go to the zoo? Or maybe the park. I like the park. Can we go to Six Flags? Daddy took me and Leila there last summer, but I ate too much and got sick. I puked up all over the place. I want to go to—”
“We can go wherever you want,” Michelle promised. “Come on, show me your room.” She grabbed her son by the hand and he led her to his bedroom.
“That’s the devil,” Ettie Mae muttered from the doorway. “Just as sure as I’m standing here today, that girl is evil.”
Jackson sat down on the couch and dropped his head in his hands. When he lifted his head his eyes were glassy and his cheeks slick. “How do you beat the devil?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
“By living a Christ-like life. Just be patient. She’ll fall and you’ll be there to catch your son.”
After Michelle left, Jackson pulled Jameel into his arms and squeezed him tightly. His son felt so little, so vulnerable.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?” Jameel asked as he tried to squirm out of his father’s arms.
“I just want you to stay with me forever,” Jackson replied.
“I’m not going anywhere…I promise,” Jameel said. “But I really like having a mommy. When am I gonna see her again?” he asked.
35
If You’re Ever Lucky Enough to Receive a Piece of Heaven…Don’t Blow It
Tameeka glanced down at Mohammad. He was sound asleep. He’d unexpectedly showed up at her door with a bottle of wine, and she’d been too surprised to turn him away. They drank his bottle of wine and raided her liquor stash, then inhaled two more bottles of wine. Tameeka told herself that she’d send him home when they were done. When he started kissing her and tugging at her clothes, then pulled her into her bedroom, she was feeling too good to tell him no.
She’d just started to drift off to sleep when her cell phone rang. “Hey, whassup?”
“Tyrell?” Tameeka squeaked.
“Yeah, it’s me. You forgot what I sound like, baby?” he joked.
“Uh, no! I was doing some paperwork,” she explained as she poked Mohammad in the ribs. He simply grunted and rolled over.
“Hard day?” he asked concerned.
“Long and hard,” she answered as she slipped out of bed, wrapped a sheet around her and walked into the living room. “I’m just so tired. I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.”
“Aw, baby. I wanted to know if you wanted to go to the movies tonight.”
Tameeka gave a shaky laugh, then glanced toward her bedroom. “Oh, Tyrell, I can’t. I’m worn out.”
“Forget the movie then. I’ll come over and give my baby a massage.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
“Too late. I’m right around the corner from your place. I’ll be there in five.”
“Tyrell!” she shouted into the phone, but he had already hung up. “Oh, shit!” She ran back into the bedroom. Hurrying to the bed, she shook Mohammad and he turned over on his side. “Mo! Wake up,” she insisted, her voice shaky with panic. When he didn’t move, she ran into the bathroom, filled a cup with water, rushed back into the bedroom and splashed it on his face. He woke up sputtering.
“What the hell did you do that for?” he demanded, knuckling his eyes. “If you wanted to wake me all—”
“You need to leave! Tyrell is on his way!” Tameeka shrieked as she ran around the bedroom, plucking up Mo’s clothes and tossing them at him.
“What?” Mohammad asked, giving her a blurry look.
“My boyfriend is on his way over. Get dressed and get out!” she yelled, as she stuck her legs in a pair of jeans, then reached for a top. Underwear be damned. Mohammad had scooped up his clothes, went into the bathroom and closed the door. “What the hell are you doing in there?” Tameeka shouted, banging on the door.
“I have to use the bathroom,” Mo called back.
“There’s a freaking McDonald’s down the street. You can stop there. Just hurry up,” she pleaded as she paced in front of the bathroom door. She anxiously looked at the clock, then resumed pounding. Mohammad snatched the door open and stepped out, fully dressed. “Perfect. Now let’s go.” Tameeka grabbed his hand and dragged him through the apartment.
Mohammad froze, then patted his pants. “I can’t leave,” he announced.
“Do you want to get killed?” Tameeka asked.
“I need my car keys,” Mohammad answered.
“Oh!” Tameeka shrieked as she pushed Mohammad toward the bedroom. “Go find them!” It felt like a lifetime had passed before Mohammad emerged from the bedroom dangling the keys.
“I found them.”
“Okay. Now go.” They hurried across the apartment to the front door. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she promised, then opened the front door to Tyrell.
Neither of the trio said a word, then, “What the fuck is this?” Tyrell roared, and Tameeka winced.
“Nothing,” Tameeka weakly offered.
“She’s right…it’s nothing, man. I brought her some receipts for some bills she wanted me to drop off,” Mohammad drawled. “That’s it.”
Tyrell’s gaze went from Tameeka to Mohammad. Tameeka looked like she was ready to shit bricks and Mohammad looked like he couldn’t leave fast enough. “Bullshit! One of you better tell me what the fuck is really going on. Or it’s gonna get really crunk up in here,” he warned in a deadly voice.
“Go!” Tameeka instructed Mohammad, shoving him out the door. She knew that if she didn’t get him out then, Tyrell wouldn’t let him leave without any broken bones.
Mohammad shot Tameeka a concerned glance, then raced down the steps.
Tyrell silently followed Tameeka into the apartment and slammed the door behind him. The smell of sex enveloped him. Tyrell reached out and grabbed Tameeka’s arm, forcing her to face him.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Tyrell hissed.
Tameeka looked up at him, her eyes were glassy and her lips were quivering. “Nothing, baby. It’s just like Mohammad said, he dropped off some receipts for me. That’s all.”
“Why couldn’t he give them to you at the shop?”
“Because,” Tameeka stuttered. “He knew that you didn’t want me seeing him,” she answered, then averted her eyes.
“So y’all thought that it’d be better for him to come to your house? That doesn’t make sense. Come up with something better!”
“He was in the neighborhood. It wasn’t like we planned this.”
Tyrell’s eyes narrowed. “Planned what?” he asked, leaning closer, and Tameeka whimpered. “Planned what, Tameeka? Answer me!” he yelled.
“It wasn’t even like that,” Tameeka sobbed. “Mo—” She stopped. Tyrell had glared at her as though she had called Mohammad “sweetheart.” “I mean, Mohammad and I never planned for it to happen. It just happened,” she said, and it sounded weak even to her ears.
“Just happened? Just happened! Oh, now you’re gonna tell me that you two just tripped on one of your throw rugs and fell right on top of each other. Well, I tell you, his dick should get a fucking award for having such perfect aim.” He glared at the woman he loved; the woman who had stolen his heart. “You never did tell me. How long have you two been fucking each other?”
Tameeka’s face was slick with tears and her lips couldn’t stop quivering. She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know…It’s not important.”
“The hell it’s not important. How—long—has—this—been—going—on?” Tyrell asked, and every word hit her like a slap.
“A month or so,” Tameeka squeaked.
“Did you fuck him first, then fuck me? Or maybe you fucked me first, then gave him sloppy seconds. Is that the way you did it?” Tameeka wordlessly shook her head. “Well, fuck you!” he spat. “’Bye, Tameeka.”
He walked slowly to his truck. He stopped whe
n he saw a familiar figure leaning against a car. It took him a moment to recognize him, but when he did, he charged. By the time Mohammad saw Tyrell coming toward him, it was too late. He instantly regretted his decision to hang around to see if Tameeka needed him. He jumped up and rounded the car; he had his hand on the door handle when Tyrell grabbed his collar and whirled him around.
“So you like fucking other men’s women?” Tyrell hissed to Mohammad, who cowered under him like a baby. “Well, I guess pussies like pussies,” Tyrell hissed before he drew his arm back.
Some of Tameeka’s neighbors had opened their doors and stepped out, the less brave ones watched from their apartment windows.
“Don’t do this, man. Let’s talk about this. Man to man,” Mohammad begged. Tyrell’s fist was as big as a cannonball.
“So you’re a man now? You weren’t showing me any respect while you were screwing my lady,” Tyrell spat.
“She told me that you guys were having problems,” Mohammad whimpered, his legs shaking. “We didn’t mean for anything to happen.”
Tyrell chuckled nastily; he was tired of hearing that phrase. The punches came so fast that Mohammad didn’t have time to brace himself. Moments later, Mohammad slid to the ground. Gasping for breath and his chest heaving, Tyrell stood over Mohammad’s motionless body.
“Somebody call nine-one-one,” a female voice shouted.
36
Why I’m So Blessed
I have a wonderful man
My family is awesome
I’m healthy
Stacie nervously stirred the pot of chili. She had gotten the recipe from Tameeka, who had promised her that it was so easy that “even a monkey could make it.” Stacie brought the spoon to her mouth for a taste. “Ouch!”
“Hey, don’t be burning those beautiful lips of yours,” Jackson said, coming up behind her. “Let Big J kiss the boo boo away.” Stacie turned around in his arms and their lips met. “Keep kissing me like that and I’m gonna have to do you right here on the kitchen floor.”
