The Renegades

by P. R. Paige

  "I was going to make a point," Rome says, "but I'm not sure it's relevant anymore."

  Rome stumbles out of bed, gently grasps India's hand and escorts her into the next room.

  I have been here long enough to know that this is just another stunt of India's to make her mark in the annals of the House of Rome. A pattern is emerging right before my eyes. Whenever India or I are on the verge of leaving or threatens to leave, Rome manages to always pawn us back with sex. It happened with me, and it is no doubt happening right now with India.

  At this moment, I find it odd that both India and I have threatened to leave at one time or another, but not Storm. She has never threatened to leave, at least not that I am aware of. Perhaps, she's more mature than India and myself, or maybe it's something else altogether.

  My employer Perrin and I exit Crate & Barrel after just purchasing new dinnerware for his upcoming dinner party for two. We stroll along Michigan Avenue, sipping iced coffee underneath the blazing sun.

  I'm not a true coffee drinker, but today for the first time, I sample iced coffee and find it okay at best.

  Perrin and I wait for the light to change at Delaware Street so that we can cross when a shiny Jeep Renegade catches my eye, bringing visions of Rome front and center in my mind.

  "It pains me to say this," I say to Perrin, "but I'm having those feelings about Rome again."

  "What feelings?"

  "You know, those feelings where I want him all to myself. I think we are just born to want our own."

  "I thought you got that stuff out of your system," Perrin reminds me.

  "Those feelings will never be out of my system."

  "So why are you still there?" he asks me.

  I know the answer to his question, but I don't answer right away. I'm stalling. "I love him, and right now if I want to be with him, I have to do it on his terms," I look to Perrin, smiling, hoping he might advise me in such matters "unless you have any better ideas."

  "It sounds as if this man has made up his mind."

  "Are you sure there's no voodoo I can do or spell I can cast that will make him want only me," I ask Perrin. I'm sort of kidding, but then again, maybe not so much.

  "Are you sure you want to go to those extremes for the sake of a man?" he asks me.

  I glance upward, studying the sky for a brief moment, then turn to Perrin and smile. "Yes."

  At two o'clock in the morning, Rome, India, Storm and I head over to Paradise Ice Cream, only to learn that it has been effectively shut down. It's obvious the word got out that they were selling more than just cream and sugar.

  Instead of returning to bed, we pour ourselves a glass of Chardonnay and plan Storm's B-day extravaganza. With the assistance of Rome, his money and his connections, Storm is going to be Beyoncé for a night. That's right.

  To make this happen, Rome plans to rent out the United Center, hire a band, populate the stadium with five thousand extras, all for the sake of creating a star-like experience. Storm is even going as far as to work with a choreographer to learn the dance moves from five of Beyoncé's top songs. This will be a B-day like no other.

  An hour later, we are all in bed, and an interesting thought comes to me. "We have been talking so much about Storm's B-day, I'd be curious to know how you might want to spend your B-day," I ask Rome.

  "Every year for the last seven years, I have spent my B-day with my mother."

  "Really?" I say. "That's so sweet."

  "And creepy," Storm adds.

  "Watch it," Rome says to Storm. "There will be no negativity towards mother, no matter how different she might be."

  As we all drift off to sleep, I am reminded once again why Rome is truly the apple of my eye.

  It's impossible for me to not love a man who loves his mother.

  And that's a wrap.

  It's been an hour since dinner.

  Congregating in the living room, India is asleep on the floor, Rome does pushups, Storm brushes her hair, while I watch an old Richard Gere movie, Internal Affairs.

  Rome counts 100, then pushes himself off the floor. "Ladies, I have something to say to you, and you're not going to like it."

  Storm and I sit snug on the sofa, holding hands, both of us eager to discover what Rome has to say.

  Rome stands before us, adjusting his Fedora hat on his head.

  Before Rome has a chance to say a word, "Storm says, "You're adding another woman to the family."

  As soon as Storm makes the statement, my mouth hangs open. It never occurred to me that Rome might one day bring another woman into the home.

  "No, not that," he says to my relief.

  "Before you go any further," I say to Rome. "I'm just curious about what Storm said about another woman coming into our family? I didn't know that another woman a possibility."

  "Why wouldn't it be a possibility?" Rome asks me.

  I'm still struggling to contend with two other women in our bed. There's no way I can deal with three.

  "Because it's already three of us here," I say to him. "I doubt we need anyone else."

  "Who said anything about need?" he continues. "If it were to happen, it would be because of something I wanted not needed."

  "And is that something that you want?" I ask him, afraid of what he might say.

  His eyes gloss over me while I wait for his answer, the butterflies in my dancing up a storm.

  "I'm perfectly happy with the ways these are right now."

  "Okay," I say. "That's all I wanted to know."

  Storm's eyes shoot to me. "I like you, Thursday. You're not afraid to speak up and say what's on your mind."

  "I doubt anyone in this house is afraid to speak her mind," Rome says. "Moving along, shall we?"

  "Should I wake up India," I ask Rome.

  "No, I'll fill her in later. Here's the situation," Rome begins. "My mother is adamant about my moving since I told her the house was haunted."

  "But I don't want to leave this house. I love this house," Storm says.

  "And we're not going to leave," Rome assures Storm. "She only wants me to move. I didn't say that we were actually going to."

  "What are you going to do then," I ask Rome.

  Before Rome can answer, Storm asks him, "Did you tell her you had the house cleansed?"

  "That was the first thing I told her," Rome says. "But she's not convinced that it is really cleansed. In her mind, once haunted, always haunted."

  "So, what's left," I ask Rome.

  "Well, I thought about it, and I'm going to tell her the truth."

  "About what?" I ask him. Surely, he can't mean what I think he means.

  "About everything."

  "Everything as in everything?" Storm says.

  "Yes, I'm going to divulge it all, in short, reveal everything about all of us."

  "I never thought that day would come," Storm says to me.

  "But really, Rome," I ask him, "Is it really so bad, telling her that we all play together?"

  "Before Rome can answer," Storm interjects again. "Yes, it is."

  "So when is all of this going to take place?" I ask Rome.

  "Unfortunately, sooner than later."

  "This isn't going to be the end of our living arrangement, is it?" I ask Rome.

  Before Rome can answer, Storm interjects. "Trust me. Rome will never let that happen."

  The humongous walk-in shower, which is a part of the family sleeping room is as big as some people's bedroom, complete with three shower heads and fluorescent lighting.

  A shower for four is the norm here in the House of Rome.

  It's simply what we do, how we express our affections for one another, and how we promote a sense of togetherness.

  This is the thought that bombards my mind as Storm washes my back, while Rome soaps up hers and India scrubs his.

  It's what we do.

  Twenty minutes later, energized and squeaky clean, I step from the shower and dry myself off. Rome, India and Storm soon follow.

&nbs
p; While in the midst of our towel drying extravaganza, the doorbell rings.

  It can only be Rome's mother as it's not even noon.

  Rome slips into his bathrobe and heads downstairs while Storm, India and I all disperse into our private rooms.

  I'm in the midst of sprinkling baby powder on my chest and thighs when Rome yells from downstairs.

  "India? There's someone here to see you."

  Curious, I head downstairs myself. Not surprisingly, Storm and India are already ahead of me, descending the stairs.

  At the bottom of the stairs, next to Rome, is a cute Beagle.

  India's dog has come home. I witness an enthusiastic Doggie rush towards India, licking her face and wagging her tail.

  "Doggie, you're back," India says, reaching out her arms to hold her. "Things are going to be so much better this time around. You watch."

  Doggie barks.

  If dogs could talk, I'm sure she was saying, we'll see.

  Storm scoots down in front of Doggie and pats her head. "We've missed you."

  Rome holds in hand a small black and white suitcase.

  "Are those Doggie's things?" India asks Rome.

  "I believe so," Rome says.

  My eyes study the black and white suitcase, and I scratch my head. "Where did you find that suitcase?"

  "It was on the doorstep," Rome says. "I guess she brought it with her."

  "But who carried it," I ask, dumbfounded.

  "Doggie carried it," India says. "Who else?"

  Silly me. I guess I should know these things, however, where I come from, dogs don't transport luggage.

  India's eyes rotate to Storm. India's expression is suspicious and stern. "Don't you have something to say to Doggie?"

  Storm rubs Doggie's head. "I apologize for trying to feed you healthy food. I should have known better." Storm strokes Doggie's collar. "Do you forgive me?"

  Doggie jumps into Storm's arms, signifying an obvious yes.

  As long as I live in this house, I will never understand how a dog, a creature with four legs and a tail has been elevated to human status.

  Episode Twenty-One

  St. Daniella's Catholic Church is the arena chosen for the long overdue meeting between Momma Nicki and Rome.

  It's six o'clock in the evening when Storm, India, Rome and I file inside and find Momma Nicki already seated on the black walnut pews.

  Storm, India and I flock around Momma Nicki and make ourselves comfortable as the burning incense provides a sweet, cozy and welcoming feel to the church.

  I kiss Momma Nicki on the cheek. "Good to see you again, Momma Nicki," I say to her.

  Momma Nicki shrugs and wipes my kiss from her cheek. "There's not going to be all that kissing stuff. Momma doesn't like all of that kissing."

  I lower my head to avoid exposing how tickled I am by her reaction. Momma Nicki does not offend me. She amuses me.

  She holds her head high, clutching her purse. She's ready.

  Rome paces before us, his hands behind his back, and his head down. I have never seen an unnerved Rome before, and it is quite revealing.

  Are his lies getting the best of him?

  Rome stops pacing. His eyes make contact with his mother and then with us. "Mother, ladies, I have an important announcement to make." He removes his Fedora hat, which is a first. His dark hair is slicked back and shiny.

  "Mother, this meeting is really for you. I have something of a pressing nature to divulge to you." Rome pauses. His mouth opens but nothing comes out, then, "Mother, it gives me no pleasure to say to you what I have to say to you today."

  Eager for this profound confession of his, I glance up at the 19th Century French-cut chandelier and think to myself: enough already with the setup, snap to it. Let's hear that confession.

  Rome continues. "First and foremost, what I said about the house being haunted was completely untrue."

  "You lied to your momma?" Momma Nicki asks Rome. Her voice is shallow and somber.

  "I didn't so much lie as I bent the truth."

  "No, Momma Nicki." Storm leaps to her feet. "He lied."

  Storm smiles at Rome and winks her eye at him and he winks back. More than anything, he seems amused by Storm's attack on him.

  "You lied to your momma?" Momma Nicki ask him again.

  "I'm sorry, mother."

  Momma Nicki grabs hold of her forearm as if to calm herself.

  "And you should be," Storm says to Rome, returning to a sitting position.

  Momma turns to face Storm, admiration in her eyes. "I have always liked you, Storm. No disrespect to you other pretty ladies."

  Rome stuffs his hands into his pockets. "And there's something else which will be even more painful for you to hear. So here it goes."

  A long silence as Rome's eyes pan across at me, then Storm, then India. Then, Rome drops his head. "I have been living in shame with all three of these women."

  Storm, India and I all exchange comical looks with one other. Rome is quite the performer.

  Momma Nicki issues Rome a look of disapproval and then folds her arms.

  "So you see the house is not haunted at all. I only told you that because I knew if you stayed over, you would find out what I was doing."

  Momma Nicki rises to a standing position and steps around to Rome.

  She raises her hand and looks as if she's about to strike him, but she doesn't. She studies him, not saying anything while Rome tries to hide his amusement.

  "You'll pray for me, won't you mother?" Rome asks her.

  I steal a peek at India and Storm who are enjoying these comedic moments as much as I am.

  "Of course, I'll pray for you, Son," Momma Nicki says, apparently her heart softening. "After all, if momma is not in your corner, who is?"

  She stretches out her arms to hug Rome and pats him on his back, having obviously forgiven him.

  This confession played out a lot smoother than I would have imagined. I expected more of a theatrical explosion from his mother, but she surprises me. Just when I believe the show to be over, Rome continues with the charade. "I've been seeing a psychologist for the last two weeks," Rome says to his mother. "And we're making some real progress."

  Momma Nick resumes a sitting position and holds her head high.

  "What's the doctor's name, Rome?" India asks Rome.

  "His name," Rome questions, obviously fishing for a fictitious name. He and India share an undercover laugh. "I'm going to get you for this," he says to India.

  "His name, please," India repeats, seemingly enjoying putting him on the spot.

  "You do know his name, don't you," Storm suggests.

  "How do you know that it's a man?" Rome says to Storm. "Maybe it's a female doctor. Did you ever think about that?"

  "Quit stalling, Rome," I add, "And just tell us the name of this freaking doctor."

  We all know that he's making this up and enjoy sticking it to him.

  "His name? His name is Dr. Boze," Rome says.

  "You mean Bozo?" I ask him, attempting to be funny.

  "No, not Bozo," Rome corrects me. "Dr. Boze."

  "What's his first name?" India asks him.

  "His first name is Jedi," Rome says. "That's right. His name is Jedi Boze." Rome looks to his mother. "You believe me don't you, mother?"

  "Of course, I do," Mamma Nicki says to Rome. "I know my baby boy wouldn't lie to me for a second time."

  Not only is Rome lying for the second time, but a third time, and a fourth time and round and round he goes.

  "I'm actually quite interested in this progress that you say you and your doctor are making," I say. "I would like to hear more about that."

  "As I," Storm agrees.

  "Well, if you must know," Rome assures us all. "I'm getting to the root of why I have this affliction of wanting to have several women in my bed. I mean in my life."

  "You were right the first time," Storm says.

  "And what exactly is at the root of it?" I ask Rome.

&nb
sp; "I would be curious to hear this myself," India says.

  "Like I said," Rome declares. "We are just getting to the root of it. We haven't exactly uncovered the cause just yet."

  Momma Nicki's eyes turn to Rome. "You couldn't possibly continue this kind of lifestyle for more than a few years, anyway," Mother says.

  "I think he could, Momma Nicki," Storm says.

  "I have faith that in no time, you'll see that one man and several women is just not normal," Momma Nicki says.

  "I feel like I'm getting there already," Rome says to his mother, though I doubt he means it.

  On our way home from Rome's bizarre spectacle at the catholic church, Rome asks Storm to drive. Right away, I am first to slide into the back seat next to him. I am well aware that my position this close to Rome is India's coveted spot. My behavior will not only be frowned upon, but also challenged. Still, I do it anyway.

  India hisses at me and exhibits the what-the-heck-are-you-doing look.

  "Is it okay if I sit next to Rome just for today?" I ask India.

  India eyes stalk me, then Rome. She's thinking about it. "Okay," India says before sliding into the front seat with Storm.

  India's cooperative spirit catches me off guard. I surely expected more of a squabble for the much sought-after spot next to Rome. But she surprised me, which means there will be hell to pay later.

  Since moving into the House of Rome, I seldom find much alone time with Rome. I have learned to acquire it wherever and whenever I can.

  As Storm cruises out of the church parking lot, I inch my way closer to Rome, hoping not to cause a stir with India. After all, I am in her zone, and though she agreed, for certain, she does not like it.

  It's a sizzling summer day and though the AC is going full force, I feel overheated. I perspire above my lip, and my hands are sweaty. Maybe, the heat is too much for me. Or perhaps, it has something to do with the proximity of Rome's body and mine.

  "So," I say to Storm and India while peering at Rome "Did any of you believe a word of that crap Rome told his mother?"