by Zuri Day
“That’s cold, Jarrell.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Me and Larsen are different.”
“How so?”
“We’re married.”
“Me and Shayna are supposed to be married. Isn’t that what you told me, Beverly, all those years ago when I set you up with my brother? That we were all going to be one big happy family and have each other’s back? Do you remember saying that?”
Beverly nodded. “And I meant it, too, at the time. But things changed, Jarrell. I told you to stop being so possessive with Shayna, to stop trying to control her. I was working on getting her off the pill so that you could get her pregnant. And then you had to go and put your hands on her.”
“I told you how that went down. I didn’t hit her! I just wanted to talk to her, but she fought and jerked away from me and that’s how she got hurt!”
“Whatever happened, it made Shayna not want to have anything to do with you.”
“She doesn’t really feel that way, Beverly, and you know it. That girl will always love me.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Beverly. “And you told me that you’d help me get her back.”
“I told you that I was on your side and that I would do what I could. And I will. Like I said, I think that when this big-time agent is through with her, he’ll dump her on the side and be on to the next flavor. Until then, just keep being the charming man that you can be and stop acting all needy and possessive and crazy in the way that got you kicked to the curb in the first place.”
39
“Hey, Mom. Just calling to check on you.” It had been a week since Shayna had run into Jarrell, and his parting words had haunted her. She’d called her mother almost every day since then, and was cautiously optimistic at the camaraderie existing between them these days. “How’s the little one?”
“The way it’s tossing and turning, kicking my insides, I’d say extremely pissed off!”
“Ha! He’d better enjoy himself in there. These are some of the best days of his life.” Shayna tensed at the sharp intake of breath from the other end of the phone. “Mom, you all right?”
“I’m rather miserable, to tell you the truth. Having a baby at eighteen and having one in your forties are two totally different things. With you, I worked and partied right up until the due date, was in labor two hours, dropped you, and was back on my grind in less than two weeks. This one has me feeling all kinds of aches and pains. The doctor is threatening to put me on bed rest.”
“For real?”
“I wish you were here, Shayna. But I know you’ve got your life and all,” Beverly hurried on. “I’ll be all right.”
“You sure?”
“It’s only a couple weeks till Christmas. I’ll be okay till then.”
“Mom, we’ve already had this conversation. I spent Thanksgiving in Vegas. I’m spending Christmas with Michael and his family. I’ve never met his mother. She’s expecting me.”
“Oh, right.” There was about as much enthusiasm in her voice as that of a graveyard corpse.
“You know what? I don’t get this attitude where Michael is concerned. You’ve never seemed to like him. You don’t ask about him. But he’s a good man. He’s doing great things for my career. I’m happy. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“I’m sure he’s cool and all, Shay. But you know I love Jarrell like a son, have known him since he was a child. Y’all grew up together.”
“What we had is over, Mom. I thought this was all settled with my trip in November.”
“He still misses you.”
“Mom . . .”
“But he’s trying to move on, Shay. He’s dating a girl from the office. She’s the receptionist at Larsen’s company.”
Shayna’s sigh of relief was audible. “That’s nice. I’m happy for him.”
“You should be. You both deserve to be happy. She’s a pretty girl. And nice, too. She knows about you and is cool with the fact that the boss’s wife is Jarrell’s ex-girl’s mother.”
Shayna wanted to say whup-the-frickin’-do, but decided against it. This had been a fairly civil conversation after all. Hearing the call indicator beep, Shayna looked at her phone. “This is Michael, Mom. I’ve got to go. He’s heading out of town tonight, so I’ll call you back tomorrow.”
She accepted the incoming call. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey, you. That was crazy—your phone didn’t ring.”
“I was talking to my mom.”
“How is she?”
Shayna relayed the gist of their conversation. “I know she wants me to come down there. Maybe after Christmas with your family we can go down there for a couple of days. I want you to meet her.”
“Sounds like a plan, babe.”
Shayna heard water running in the background. “What are you doing?”
“Washing my hands. I’m going to eat and then take a shower.”
“Ooh, sounds like the perfect time for me to head over.”
“I wish, but I’ve got some business to handle before I head to the airport.”
Shayna heard another sound. “What was that?”
“Troy came over with a couple of his friends.”
The tinkling sound of women’s laughter continued along with what Shayna imagined was either the stereo or TV. “Oh, is this the business you need to take care of?” She didn’t even try and hide the pout in her voice.
“Don’t even start. He’s dating one of them and her friend wanted to meet me because she has an advertising company and wants to network.”
“Yeah, I’ve got her network, all right.”
Michael laughed, his voice low and sexy. “I like that you’re jealous, baby. It means I’ve been hitting it right.”
“Whatever, nucka,” Shayna said, smiling. “Just make sure she understands who that weapon you’re firing belongs to.”
“Michael, the steaks are done!”
“Oh, so y’all grilling and the whole nine? What, are they chillin’ by the pool in bikinis? Or are they wearing thongs?”
“Baby, I’ll call you when I’m on my way to the airport.”
“Michael, don’t—” But it was too late; he’d already hung up. “Stop trippin’, Shay,” she said aloud, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a cold water out of the fridge. You just told your mother that you’ve got a good man.
She had told Beverly this, and she was right. But across town, someone else had a different idea. Somebody else was trying to talk Michael into being a very bad boy.
40
“Oops, I’m sorry. I was looking for the bathroom.”
Michael stood by a dresser in his bedroom, about to put on his signature simple jewelry: a two-carat stud earring, his Rolex, and a thin platinum cross. That would have been three additions to his present attire; the only thing keeping the stranger before him from seeing the family jewels was a stark white towel wrapped securely around his waist.
“But then again,” Ms. Advertiser cooed while brazenly walking into the bedroom dressed in a barely there bikini top and a thong bottom, “I’d much rather use the one here, in the master suite.”
“The guest bathroom,” Michael began with a scowl, “is back down the hallway, on your left. Which you probably know since you had to pass it to get here.”
“I like your place.” Ms. Advertiser turned and sauntered toward the painting on the wall. The fact that she wanted Michael to check out her tush was about as subtle as a neon sign in front of a strip bar. Unfortunately for her, Shayna was working with a badonkadonk where girlfriend here only had a donk. “I’m thinking about having my home redone. Who’s your designer?”
“Someone who would take the hint and leave where she’s not wanted. I suggest you rejoin my brother. I’ll be out shortly.”
“Sorry,” Ms. Advertiser said in a way that suggested she was anything but. She gave his physique the once-over before heading for the door. “But if you need someone to help you dry off, just let me know.”
Minutes la
ter, a jeans-clad Michael stood in the patio doorway. “Troy, come let me holler at you for a minute.” He stood, hands on hips, taking in the scene at the pool: both women topless, with surgically enhanced breasts that if needed could easily be used as flotation devices. Shayna’s voice came floating into his mind. Is this the business you need to take care of? If Shayna saw this, she’d be furious. “And tell your friends to get dressed.”
Troy, who’d been taking the medium-well steaks off the grill, turned to the women. “Cover up, ladies. These ears of corn are almost ready to turn over; I’ll grab the salad and be back out in a minute.” He followed Michael inside. “What’s up, man? Since when did you not enjoy a titty show?”
“Since I went exclusive with Shayna. How many times do I have to tell you that I’ve chilled on that mess?”
“Damn, man. I guess I can’t believe you actually turned in your player card.”
“Well, believe it. In fact, it feels pretty good. You might want to try it.”
Troy raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’ve still got a few wild seeds to sow. I’m not sure just one woman could satisfy me.”
“When you find the right one, she can.” Michael looked at his watch and started for the bedroom. It was early yet, but he’d rather hang in the lounge at the airport than stay here and deal with drama. “You’ve got your keys, right?” Troy nodded. “Okay, be sure and lock up.”
“How long are you gone for this time?”
“A couple days.”
“New York?”
“Chicago.”
“Oh, yeah. The dude who just got signed with the Bulls.”
“Exactly.”
The brothers shared a fist pound and a shoulder bump. “Okay, be safe, man.”
Michael arched his brow and cocked his head in the direction of the pool. “You be safe, my brothah.”
Troy’s laughter followed him down the hall.
Had Michael not taken the shortcut through the side street that placed him closer to the 101 Freeway, he would have seen Shayna’s shiny red Hyundai as it wound around the snarly curves and pulled into his driveway. But by the time she knocked on his door, he was on the 101, headed to the 110 and the Los Angeles International Airport.
Shayna bopped up to the door with a smile on her face. She still felt quite good about her ingenious idea to give Michael a ride to the airport. She knew that for these short trips he preferred driving himself to using one of the company cars. She also knew that he was one of those last-minute passengers who’d valet their car, breeze through the first-class security line, haul all kinds of you-know-what to the gate, and then flash that piano he called a smile at the would-be-angry flight attendant before taking his preferred seat: 2B. Today would be different. She knew from the female who’d announced dinner that he’d eaten. She’d left the house as soon as she’d hung up the phone so he should be showered, dressed, and just about ready to go.
“Oh, hey. You must be Troy,” she said when he answered the door. When he stepped toward her, she gave him a quizzical look before brushing past him and going inside. Sensing that he’d remained by the door, Shayna turned. “I’m just here to pick up Michael. I assume he’s—”
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from the festivities!” a playful voice rang out from just beyond the hallway. “I know you said to get dressed, Mike, but . . .” As topless Ms. Advertising turned the corner, the would-be come hither faded from her lips, ending with a breathy “Oh.” Hardly an introvert, she lifted her hands to twist the wet hair splayed around her shoulders into a brunette bun atop her head. “Sorry, I thought Mikey had come back for more fun.”
Mikey? That’s the first clue that you don’t know him, witch, because anyone who did would never ever call him Mikey. Without responding to the distraction, Shayna turned back to Troy. “I take it he’s not here.”
A slow, lazy smile spread across Troy’s face. “And you must be Shayna. Michael’s on his way to the airport. He left awhile ago.”
Shayna’s head nod to Ms. Advertising behind her was barely discernible. “I figured as much.”
Troy caught the gesture and laughed out loud. Ms. Advertising turned around and flounced back toward the pool. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to meet the woman who’s elicited traits from my brother that I never thought I’d see.”
“Such as . . .”
“Stability. Commitment.”
“Thank you,” Shayna replied, walking to the door.
Troy followed Shayna out of the house, walking her to her car. “Michael would think I’m a fine one for giving advice on relationships, but can I tell you something?” Shayna nodded. “For all of the women who throw themselves at us and all of the partying and all the fun we like to have, our mother didn’t raise no fools. When we find that special someone, we know how to treat her. My brother is seriously digging you. So you don’t have anything to worry about. You feel me?”
Shayna nodded. “I feel you, Troy. It was nice to meet you. Thanks again.”
41
The drizzle began just before Shayna reached her destination. She turned on the wipers, absentmindedly reflecting that the rain pouring down the windshield mirrored the tears falling on her face. Time had passed, but the leaving still felt as fresh as it did on that unseasonably warm day in December three years ago when Shayna, her mother, Jarrell, Larsen, some cousins, and a few dozen members from the Good Hope South Central AME Church had stood by a flower-strewn grave and bid Willie Jean “Big Mama” Washington a fond farewell. That entire week had gone by in a haze, starting at the moment she’d gotten the call that her grandmother had suffered a heart attack and then getting to the hospital forty-five minutes later only to find out that she was already gone. That night, Big Mama had appeared to Shayna in a dream. In it she hadn’t spoken, but had simply patted Shayna’s hand, given her a big hug and smile, and then turned and walked across a foggy meadow. Shayna waved and waved, until she could no longer see Big Mama. Upon awakening, there was a hole in her heart. But for the one Willie Jean Washington had called her favorite grandchild even though she was the only one, that last meeting was like manna from heaven, its memory just about the only thing that could bring her solace during that bleak time.
Shayna reached the slab of black granite engraved with roses, a cross, the name and date: WILLIE JEAN WASHINGTON, DECEMBER 20, 1947–DECEMBER 28, 2009, and lastly the inscription: FOREVER ALIVE IN OUR HEARTS. “Hey, Big Mama,” she whispered, kneeling down and placing the dozen pink heart roses against the stone. “Happy birthday. I can’t believe it’s been three years already. Seems like just yesterday we were over at your friend’s house, Miss Josie, remember? Eating your favorite German chocolate and listening to your favorite Billie Holiday. I haven’t played her much lately,” Shayna continued, pulling the weeds from around the stone as tears continued to fall. “I guess I don’t want to wish a heartache good morning.” Finding a comfortable spot near the smooth, cool slab, Shayna placed a plastic bag she’d found in her back seat on the ground and sat on top of it. The winter rain had stopped as quickly as it had begun, and streaks of sun were trying to pierce the grayish sky. She looked around at this “community” of souls, different markers signaling a life come and gone, the dash in between the dates, Big Mama once told her. Before her death, Shayna had considered graveyards morbid, and wasn’t one to watch murder mysteries or horror films. But on the times she’d visited, three in all, she’d felt an overwhelming peace, like now, like her grandmother was right here with her brimming with love.
“I met someone, Big Mama. You remember I broke up with Jarrell, right? Well, my new guy, his name is Michael and he’s also my manager. He’s gotten me in magazines and on TV, and I even have my own clothing and shoe line. I so wish you were here to meet him, Big Mama,” Shayna said, a tremor to her voice as she tried to replace her tears with happy memories. “But then again, if you were here you’d be dealing with the fact that your daughter is getting ready to have a baby. Yes
, Big Mama. Mom is pregnant—can you believe it? I’m trying to be happy for her, but her being with Larsen indirectly keeps me connected to Jay and it’s just one big mess. I know you liked Jay, Big Mama, but he changed after you died, became more possessive, controlling, especially after I turned pro. But I remember how well he treated you, how he tried to look after you. You always told me that everybody had some good in them. I guess that’s one good thing about Jarrell that I can remember. That he loved you.”
The rain started up again and after a few more moments, Shayna returned to her car. As she opened the door, the phone was ringing. She wasn’t totally surprised to see who was on the caller ID.
“Hey, Jay.”
“Hey, Shayna. You know I had to call you today.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Gotta say happy birthday to Miss Willie Jean.” Shayna smiled. “Have you gone to vist the grave yet?”
“I’m here now.”
“Ah, baby. I wish I would have been able to go there with you. You know I loved Big Mama like she was my own, knew her my whole life.”
It was true. Big Mama used to parent all of the children in the neighborhood, and she’d send Jarrell to the store for her unlikely favorite, Jolly Ranchers. Jarrell’s mother often worked overtime, so Jarrell was a regular for Big Mama’s spaghetti, meatloaf, or fried chicken dinners and would always make her smile by asking for seconds, sometimes thirds. After that, they’d entertain her with talent shows in the living room: Shayna singing—translated: butchering—“Butterfly” by Mariah Carey, Jarrell rapping Biggie’s “Hypnotize,” and their teaming up for Puff Daddy and Faith Evans’s “I’ll Be Missing You.”
“Hey, remember that time I stole those cookies that Big Mama made and sold them to the neighborhood kids?”
“Ha! How could I forget that one?”
“Big Mama was ready to whup me until she saw my profit. That wrongdoing ended up being the basis for my first business. She’s probably the reason I sold sweets instead of drugs.”
