“Actually, the kisses were perfect. And just so you know,” Deahnna said, arriving in front of her apartment building. “I didn’t get home until after two in the morning.”
“Two in the morn—”
“I’ll talk to you later, sweetie.”
“Wait a minute—”
“Bye.” Deahnna laughed as she ended the call, and she laughed harder when her cell rang seconds later. She shook her head and hit the ignore button, sending the call to her voice mail. She could have told her how the night had really been, but Deahnna wanted to keep that night to herself. Heather would make her pay during her next hair appointment, but that was OK, because she knew her friend loved her. Besides, Heather was more bark than anything.
Deahnna smiled and then went inside, walked the few steps to her door, slid her key into the lock, and opened the door. As she walked in, Brian’s bedroom door slammed shut. Deahnna frowned, took off her coat and hat, and hung them on the coat rack. The warmth of her apartment was welcomed, but before she got too comfortable, she wanted to get talking with Brian over with. She wasn’t sure how he’d take the news. Hopefully he’d see it as no big deal, but if he didn’t . . . Well, there wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. At least he would know and not be blindsided if word got out around the school or neighborhood.
She slipped out of her white, made-for-comfort Payless sneakers and approached his door. “Brian?” she said, knocking on it. “Do you have a second?”
From behind the door, Brian said, “I’m busy right now, Mom.”
Deahnna frowned. Although he hadn’t said anything, she knew something was bothering him, because for the past few days, he just hadn’t been himself. She said, “Busy or not, I need to talk to you, so I’m coming in.” She turned the knob and pushed the door open.
As he’d said, Brian was busy on his bed, lying down, his hands intertwined behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
“Really busy,” she said, her hand on her hip.
Brian groaned, but didn’t say anything.
Deahnna went to the foot of the bed and sat down. “Brian,” she said, looking at her son, “are you OK? Are you going through anything that you want or need to talk about?”
Brian closed his eyes.
It was obvious to Deahnna that he had something heavy on his mind.
His eyes still closed, he shook his head. “I’m good, Mom,” he said, the tone in his voice clearly contradicting his words.
Deahnna breathed out softly. She wanted to ask him again if something was wrong, but knew there was no point to it. Whatever he was dealing with, it was something that he just wasn’t ready to talk about yet. She said, “OK. But, honey, if anything is bothering you, I hope you know that you can come to me to talk.”
Brian nodded, but didn’t respond.
Deahnna frowned. “So, how was school?”
“School was school,” he said.
“Nothing exciting, huh?”
“Nope.”
Deahnna cleared her throat and smoothed out the pants of her scrubs. “So, did you have class with your English teacher today?”
Brian opened his eyes, and dropped his chin to his chest as he raised his head to look at her. He closed his eyes a bit. “Yeah. Why?”
“Just wondered. So, do you like Mr. White? I mean, is he a good teacher?”
Brian pulled his hands from behind his head and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked at Deahnna, his eyes revealing that he knew why she was asking the questions she was asking. He said, “You like him, don’t you?”
She looked at him, and after a slight moment of hesitation, said, “Yes.”
“I figured so. I saw the way you were with him at the dance.”
Deahnna smiled, her mind going back to that night momentarily. “Hope I didn’t embarrass you.”
Brian shook his head. “Nah. You were cool.”
Deahnna chuckled. “Good to know.”
“Mr. White likes you too,” Brian said.
“How do you know?”
“I saw the way he was with you at the dance, too. Besides, I asked him if he was feeling you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. He said he wasn’t, but I could tell by his eyes that he was lying.”
Deahnna felt herself blush. “I . . . I need to tell you something. The other night, when I came home after two in the morning—”
“You were with Mr. White, right?”
She looked at her son. For so long she’d seen him as her little boy, her little prince, but looking at him at that moment, she marveled at just how much older he appeared. The edge of his jaw line was sharper, his eyes were darker, more intense. Ever since he was little he’d had a kind of an old-soul quality to him, but looking at him now, Deahnna couldn’t help but think that he’d experienced more than he should have.
She nodded, her eyes on her son’s, and said, “Yes.”
Brian flexed his jaw, gave a slight nod, and then said, “You fuck him?”
Deahnna’s eyes widened, both the question and the words used shocking her. But the shock quickly dissipated as her eyes closed to slits. “First of all, Brian, that’s none of your business.”
“But that’s my teacher—”
“I don’t give a damn if he was the president of the United States! It’s still none of your damn business. Second, since when do you think it’s OK for you to use that language with me?”
“I—”
“I am your mother, Brian. Not one of your boys. You can use that language outside with them and anyone else all you want, but you better never talk that way to me again. Is that understood?”
Brian dropped his chin a notch as Deahnna glared at him with a look that could kill. He said, “Yes.”
Deahnna shook her head. “I can’t believe you would ask me a question like that. I know I taught you better than that.”
Brian frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.
Still fuming, Deahnna said, “Damn right you’re sorry. You better remember your damn place!”
“OK.”
“Unbelievable.” Deahnna stood up and headed out of the room. Before walking out, she turned, looked at him, and said, “And for the record, young man, not that I owe you an answer, but no, I did not fuck him.”
Question answered with a lie, she turned, walked out of the room, and slammed the door shut behind her. She went to her bedroom to change, shaking her head.
As she removed her pants, her cell phone rang from inside of her purse. She reached for it, certain that it was Heather calling for details again.
But it wasn’t.
She groaned. It was the strip club’s manager, Marvin. Deahnna thought about ignoring the call, but ignoring calls from Marvin sometimes led to termination, and with the outstanding bills, the rent, and the groceries she had to buy, she couldn’t afford to let the job go. No matter how much she hated doing it, stripping made for a necessary amount of extra income.
She hit the talk button. “Hello?”
“Hey, Deahnna. I know you don’t work on Wednesdays, but I need you.”
“Marvin—”
“Just hear me out. I just got a call from a friend of mine. His boy is getting married and they want to have the bachelor party at the club in two weeks.”
“Marvin—”
“Deahnna. These are high rollers and they’re not afraid to dole out the cash. I know you need the money, so before you say no, just say yes. I promise it would be worth it.”
Deahnna sighed. As much as she wanted to say no, Marvin was right. She wasn’t in a position to say no.
Reluctantly, she said, “OK. I’ll do it.”
“Good. You, Regina with her old ass, and Rhonda will be on. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll split the money sixty/forty instead of the usual seventy/thirty.”
Deahnna frowned. “OK.”
Marvin ended the call without saying good-bye.
Deahnna tossed her cell on the bed, sat down, and cover
ed her face with her hand.
Money.
It was a crime the way it held her hostage.
20
“Fuckin’ liar. Fuckin’ bitch.”
Brian slammed his fist against the wall and cursed his teacher again.
“Right to my goddamned face!”
He slammed his fist against the wall again and lay back on his bed. He hadn’t intended on disrespecting his mother with his question. The words had really just slipped out. But shit, she was out past two in the morning with his lying-ass teacher. What the fuck was he supposed to think?
“Lyin’ bitch!”
Whatever respect he had for his teacher had just been lost. All the nigga had to do was say yes. That he was feeling his mother. That they had a date planned. Brian wouldn’t have liked it, but he would have had to respect him for being upfront about it. But instead of being a man, what did the nigga do?
“Lyin’ motherfucka,” Brian said through his teeth.
He sat up, swung his legs off of the bed, and slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He shook his head. He hadn’t seen his mom pissed like that in a long time, and for a split second, he thought she was going to flip out and smack him. He would have to apologize again, he knew, but after she’d calmed down enough to know that his apology was sincere.
As for his teacher . . .
He’d have words for him, too.
Brian let out a breath as a police car sped by, its siren screaming from the streets below. Just a couple of weeks ago, life had seemed so simple. School, his boys and, for the most part, their harmless escapades, and his relationship with Carla. Two weeks. It had all been gravy. Now he could barely focus on his schoolwork—something that had always come easy to him. His friendship with his boys, particularly Tyrel, was there, but definitely not the same. And his drama-free relationship with Carla was now ultra-complicated.
He groaned.
He’d finally called and sent text messages to Carla, apologizing for the way he’d run out on her, but just as he’d taken the liberty to ignore her many attempts to reach him, she too wasn’t giving him the time of day. He missed the hell out of her. Missed her smile, her laugh, her soft hands, her kiss. More importantly, he missed her company. Her presence always made any of his cloudy days clear and blue.
He reached for his cell phone on his night table, found her number, and hit the talk button. She wouldn’t answer, but it didn’t matter. He just wanted to leave another message, telling her again how sorry he was.
“Hello?”
Brian snapped his head back. “Carla?” he said, his voice filled with surprise. “Is that really you?”
Carla exhaled into the phone. “It’s me,” she said, her tone even.
Brian straightened his back. “I . . . I didn’t expect you to answer. I’m glad you did.”
“I got tired of ignoring your calls.”
Brian smiled. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “I’m really sorry for freaking out the way I did. That shit just caught me off guard, you know.”
“Well, imagine how ‘off guard’ I was when I missed my period,” Carla said, the pitch in her voice rising slightly.
Brian frowned. “I know. I really didn’t mean to be like that. It’s just . . .” He paused, brushed his hand through his hair, from the back to the front. “I mean, a baby, Carla. Damn.”
“Yeah, damn,” Carla repeated. “Well, luckily for you, you don’t have to stick around. But me, I’m stuck.”
“You don’t have to be stuck though.”
“Brian,” she said in a don’t-go-there-again tone.
He exhaled. “I know, I know.”
“I told you I don’t believe in doing that, so it’s not an option. Anyway, like I said, you don’t have to stick around.”
Brian cradled his forehead in his hand, cleared his eyes, and ground his teeth together.
So different, he thought.
Two weeks ago, things had been so fucking different.
He took a slow, deep breath. Let it out slowly, and said, “I’m not trying to go anywhere, Carla. I . . . I love you.”
On the other end, Carla began to cry softly.
Brian took another deep breath. He hated to hear her cry.
“I . . . I’m scared, Brian,” Carla said, her voice a wavering whisper.
Brian breathed out. “I know. I am too.”
“My mom is going to kill me.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Mine too.”
“She doesn’t even know I’m having sex.”
“I’m sure my mom knows, but she doesn’t think I’m doing it unprotected.”
“We really screwed up.”
He nodded again and sucked in his lips. “Yeah, we did.”
Carla sniffled. “What . . . what are we going to do? I mean, I want to finish high school and go to college,” she said, her sobbing heavier.
Brian gnawed on his bottom lip. He wanted to finish school and go to college too. He said, “We’ll figure something out.”
“I . . . I wish you were here. I just want to lie in your arms.”
Brian smiled. “I can come over after your mom falls asleep.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Just text me when she falls asleep.”
“OK. I love you, Brian.”
“I love you too.”
Brian ended the call, set his phone on vibrate, and then put it down and lay back on his bed. He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but just to relax.
Two weeks ago.
His mom and his teacher.
His boys and Old Man Blackwell.
Carla and their baby.
Damn, how quickly it all changed.
21
Jawan was on cloud nine.
He thought he’d been there before, but he’d been wrong. Cloud eight. Maybe. Or, if he was really being truthful, his relationship with his ex, Kim, had really hovered somewhere around seven. Seven and a half on the best of days.
Kim.
She’d broken his heart. Chewed him up and spit him out. One night before he was going to pop the question.
He’d had everything planned out. Barry White on the iPod, food—restaurant prepared—on standby, expensive champagne that had been painful to buy, but, for the occasion, worth it. He’d purchased twelve of her favorite candles—ocean mist—to position strategically in the living room, the bedroom, the bathroom around the tub. Locations where he was sure they would cap what was undoubtedly going to be a yes, with bouts of passionate and uninhibited lovemaking.
He was ready. Had been for months. But he wanted to wait until the right moment. And there was no better moment than the night of their second anniversary.
But the night before . . .
He’d been away at what was supposed to have been a three-day, mandatory educational workshop. It was supposed to end on a Friday afternoon, but the instructor for the workshop became ill, so they cut everything short by one day, therefore Jawan arrived home early Thursday evening. Kim hadn’t been expecting him until Friday night.
He could have called her to tell her about the change in plans, but he wanted to surprise her. The drive home would be about four hours, putting him in Brooklyn by ten P.M. At that time, Kim wouldn’t be sleeping, but she would be watching TV, wearing the silk leopard-print robe with just a thong on underneath. She liked to sleep that way. No bra. No T-shirt. Just the thong.
Jawan had missed her, and, on the ride home, he thought of nothing else but getting rid of the robe and thong the minute he walked into her place using the key she’d given him. What hadn’t been in his thoughts was the image of opening her front door and seeing her stark naked, riding her happily married boss—whom he’d met at her company’s Christmas party just a few months before—in the reverse cowgirl position.
Things had been ugly.
Kim screamed, hopped off of her boss, quickly covering breasts he’d been anxious to devour, and called his name. Then asked what he was doing there.
; Her boss, Rick—Rick, who was twenty years her senior—cursed with eyes wide open, grabbed a pillow, placed it over his crotch, put his palms up, and begged Jawan to let him explain.
Jawan, completely out of body and mind, reacted before thoughts even materialized. He rushed, pushed Kim out of his way as she tried to stop him, and leveled Rick with a right to his jaw, knocking him out cold.
Jawan could have been in some serious trouble that night. But Rick had far more to worry about than pressing charges. His tail between his legs, and fearing a beating from his wife far worse than the one Jawan had given him, Rick never pressed charges.
Jawan, his heart shattered, simply got into his car and drove away. That night the food order was cancelled, the champagne bottle was smashed, and Barry White became Linkin Park. The next day, the ring was taken back to the store. After the millionth call, Kim finally got the message that he had no intention of speaking to her ever again.
Looking back on it, he really should have thanked Kim. She’d saved him from making the biggest mistake in his life. But he hadn’t seen it that way at the time. For a long while, Jawan swore off of relationships. When the urge came, and it did because he was a man, he sought out cheap one-night stands. No feelings, no attachments. Just fucking to relieve the need. To hell with ever placing his heart in a woman’s hand again. For two years he lived that way.
And then he chaperoned the dance.
And now he was on cloud nine. Hell—soaring above it.
He smiled and closed his briefcase. Enough grading papers. It was time to get home. Grady needed to be fed. He needed to eat. And then he needed to hear Deahnna’s sweet voice—something he found he was needing more and more.
Deahnna Moore.
He shook his head.
She had to be a sorceress, because that was the only way to explain how the hell she’d shattered the wall he’d put up after Kim.
He smiled, stood up, and reached for his coat when his cell phone rang. He looked at it, wondering if Deahnna had beaten him to the punch. Hoping, actually.
But she hadn’t.
He answered. “Nick the Dick with the ball and chain!”
His cousin laughed. “Not yet, dude. Not yet.”
Growing Pains Page 12
