Heat

by Geneva Holliday

  When I stepped back, my eyes were brimming with tears.

  “Are you okay?” Deeka asked, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  “Yes, of course. These are tears of joy,” I lied, my voice quaking. “So are you going to pop the question today?”

  “No, no, not today. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to make it real special.”

  I nodded as I dabbed at my eyes.

  “I’d like to ask her with you and all of her closest friends and family around.”

  I nodded again.

  “So maybe we can put our heads together and come up with something?” Deeka’s eyes were pleading.

  “Of course we can. Of course we can,” I responded as we turned and started back toward the building.

  Geneva

  everything was done. My turkey was a golden brown, my sweet potatoes were baked to perfection, my fried corn was glistening, my biscuits were moist and just the right color.

  Everything was set out on the table, and I’d left a spot for the potato salad that Crystal was supposed to bring.

  I reached for the pack of Newports that I kept on the top of the fridge.

  I leaned over the sink and pushed the window up, blowing a long stream of smoke into the air.

  My eyes picked over the few people who moved through the courtyard and settled on a couple engaged in what looked to be a very intimate conversation.

  They were standing close, probably lovers, I thought to myself as I took another puff of my cigarette.

  The woman stepped forward and embraced the man. They held each other for a while. I smiled and thought, How sweet.

  There were a few more words shared, and then the couple linked hands, turned, and started toward the building, their faces coming into full view.

  I choked. It was Crystal and Deeka!

  Hurriedly I turned the faucet on and filled a glass with water. As I gulped it down, my mind kept replaying the scene I’d just witnessed. Surely there was some explanation, some reasonable explanation for them to have been standing so close…to have been holding hands.

  Of course there was, I told myself as I filled the glass yet again.

  Crystal was my girl, my best friend, and Deeka was my man. They wouldn’t…

  Or would she? Maybe Crystal hadn’t really gone to Antigua. Maybe she was with Deeka. Maybe she was the one I heard in the background of his hotel room when he claimed it was just the television.

  That bitch!

  “Stop it, Geneva,” I shouted out to the walls. Stop this insanity right this minute, I thought. You have been watching entirely too much of Maury Povich!

  Deeka and Crystal were not getting it on. They both loved me, and besides, Crystal wouldn’t do something like that to me, her best friend. Or would she?

  My mind whirled.

  Crystal had been doing quite a lot of things that were unusual to her character, hadn’t she?

  Well, yes, there was last summer, when she went to one of those sex parties and slept with strangers. There was that, I mused.

  And what about Neville? What about him—he was nothing but a man-whore, a “he-bitch,” and she’d fucked him, hadn’t she? Had even paid good money for plane tickets, flying back and forth to be with him—hadn’t she?

  She was unscrupulous where it came to sex, wasn’t she?

  Unscrupulous? I didn’t even know the meaning of that word. “Shut up!” I shouted, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my palms against my ears. When I finally did open my eyes, Charlie was standing in front of me, clutching her Pooh Bear, watching me strangely. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

  I forced a smile and swiped at the cracker crumbs on her chin, “Nothing, baby. Mommy is just getting a headache.”

  And by that time I was.

  A knock came at the door, and I swung it open to find Deeka and Crystal waiting on the other side.

  I scrutinized them for a moment.

  “Well, can we come in?” Deeka asked, already stepping around me.

  I’m not sure, but I think I sneered at Crystal and then pretended to sneeze.

  “You okay, girl?” Crystal asked.

  I smirked and rubbed at my nose. “Fine.”

  Crystal

  i almost fell over when I stepped into the apartment and saw that it was decked out for Christmas. There was tinsel, and smiling, red-cheeked Santas everywhere. To tell the truth, it was a bit nauseating.

  “You hear from Chevy?” I asked as I settled myself down onto the couch and pulled Charlie into my lap. Deeka took a seat on the other end of the couch and promptly reached for the remote control.

  “No.”

  Geneva’s response was sharp, and Deeka and I exchanged looks.

  “I wonder if she’s going to show up today?”

  “I doubt it,” Geneva threw over her shoulder as she busied herself at the sink. “Not after Noah tossed her out on the street like he did.”

  “On the street? Chevanese Cambridge? I don’t think so,” I laughed. “Chevy is too resourceful to be sleeping on a park bench somewhere. She’s probably laid up in one of Manhattan’s top hotels right now.”

  Geneva grunted but said nothing.

  Switching the subject, I said, “Hey, girl, the apartment looks out of this world.”

  And I meant that literally.

  “It must have taken you days to put this all together.”

  Geneva was standing by the table now, folding and unfolding napkins. She shot me a look and then her eyes swung to Deeka, who was staring intently at the baseball highlights on the television screen.

  “No, it didn’t take me any time at all.”

  “Christmas in May, wow,” I muttered sarcastically under my breath. “Cool.”

  The tension was thick between us, and I didn’t know why it was there at all. Just when I was about to utter another word, a knock came at the door. I hoped it was Noah, and I hoped he’d brought a knife.

  I let go a sigh of relief when Noah bounded through the door, a boxed cheesecake in hand. He gave Geneva a tight one-armed hug, then walked over and planted kisses first on Charlie’s cheek and then on mine. He turned to Deeka and offered him his hand. “Hey, man, great to see you again.”

  Deeka stood and he and Noah bumped shoulders before patting each other heartily on the back.

  “Same here, man,” Deeka said.

  “Let me get that from you, Noah,” Geneva said, reaching for the cheesecake. That’s when Noah spotted the Christmas tree in the corner of the room and his mouth fell open. “What the hell—” he started, but stopped as he took in all the other holiday decorations, then doubled over with laughter.

  “What the hell is this?” he exclaimed, whirling around to look at Geneva.

  Geneva’s face lit up, the first time she’d smiled since I’d walked through the door.

  “It’s for you, Noah, because we missed last Christmas together!” Geneva squealed.

  I cocked my head. Hadn’t we all missed being together last Christmas?

  Noah tossed his head back in glee. “Get outta here, Miss Girl. You did all this for little old me?” he cried, wrapping his arms around Geneva. “You are too much!”

  “Yeah,” Deeka said, walking over to the table. “She nearly worried me to death about this. Do you know how difficult it is to find Christmas decorations in May?” He laughed as he picked up the knife and began poking at the turkey.

  “Well, Miss Girl, you have certainly outdone yourself. Everything looks wonderful,” Noah spewed as his eyes moved over the food.

  “Um, wait a minute.” Noah’s good mood was quickly melting away. “Where the hell is the potato salad?”

  Geneva shot me a pointed look, folded her arms, and asked in a nasty tone, “Yeah, Crystal, where is it?”

  Why was Geneva acting so bitchy toward me?

  “Oh, damn.” I slapped my hand against my forehead. “I walked right out and left it on the counter.”

  “Oh, well, you better hurry yourself
right back home and get it. I can’t have Christmas dinner without potato salad,” Noah exclaimed, shaking his finger in my face.

  “I, uh, I,” I stammered. I didn’t want to go back home. He might still be out there. I wasn’t going back, at least not by myself.

  “Noah, do you wanna come back with me?”

  Noah’s eyes bulged. “Not really.”

  “What are you, eight years old? You need someone to hold your hand while you cross the street?” Geneva spat.

  She was really plucking my last nerve.

  “Why don’t you just admit it, Crystal?”

  “Admit what?” I said, whirling on her.

  “Admit that you didn’t make the goddamn potato salad,” Geneva snapped, bringing her hands down hard on the kitchen table.

  The room went quiet for a minute as we all exchanged quiet glances.

  “Are you on the rag or something?” Noah spoke very slowly.

  “Or something,” Deeka mumbled under his breath.

  Geneva glared at him, shook her head in dismay, and then calmly turned around, walked into her bedroom, and softly closed the door behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” Deeka apologized. “Ever since I’ve been back she’s been acting strange,” he said, heading toward the bedroom.

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed that too,” I said, starting behind Deeka. But he held his hand up and I stopped in my tracks. I had to remind myself that he was her man, her mate, her confidant…her friend. He would take care of her.

  I stepped back and settled myself down onto the couch.

  Noah stood up and began to help himself to the food. “Merry fucking Christmas.” He snickered.

  Chevy

  by the time I emerged from the subway, it was just after two in the afternoon. I’d been riding the train all night, all morning, and a good part of the afternoon. I would have probably still been on the train if not for the hunger pangs and the urge to piss.

  I found a Starbucks and used the restroom, splashing some water on my face, and then ordered a muffin and Grande Decaf.

  Who knew how long I’d been sitting at the table lost in my own worries.

  It must have been a long time, because when I happened to look up, I saw that the staff behind the counter was giving me a strange look.

  I didn’t need to be asked any questions, so I gathered myself and walked to the next Starbucks. It wasn’t far, there seemed to be one on every corner.

  By the time I hit Starbucks number four, it was almost ten o’clock in the evening. I had twenty dollars left in my wallet and a pint-size attendant hovering over me with a Windex bottle.

  I took that as my cue that it was time to leave.

  I walked two blocks to a McDonald’s. The schedule on the door said that closing time was one a.m.

  I ordered a Big Mac, large fries, and a Diet Coke and settled myself in a corner booth.

  I don’t remember falling asleep, but the meaty finger of the store manager poking into my elbow was what jolted me awake.

  “What, where…?” I mumbled, looking stupidly around me.

  “We’re closing, miss,” he advised me through clenched teeth.

  One o’clock had certainly come quick.

  I gathered my purse and rose—as elegantly as possible—from my seat. I didn’t even bother to return my tray. Two steps toward the door and my bladder opened up. I spun around and started toward the door beside the registers marked BATHROOM.

  “Hey, I said we’re closing,” the manager shouted at me.

  I ignored him, reached the door, grabbed hold of the knob, and pushed. And pushed. And pushed again.

  I was kicking and banging the door when the manager grabbed me by my elbow.

  “Are you deaf or just stupid?” he said as he dragged me toward the exit.

  “I just have to pee,” I pleaded, already feeling my panties going damp.

  “Well, then,” he said, smirking as he snatched the door open, “you should have thought of that when you left your tray on the table.”

  And with a shove I was on the sidewalk, my hands between my legs as I hopped from one foot to the other, trying my best not to piss on myself.

  There was nowhere for me to relieve myself. All of the restaurants on the block were closed. I turned off Broadway and down Sixty-fifth Street.

  It was a residential block, so it was quiet and the lighting wasn’t as glaring as it was on Broadway.

  Having no other choice, I ducked between a parked Honda Prelude and BMW X5, pulled down my pants, and pissed.

  Panties damp, I roamed the streets for a while, trying to figure out just what it was I was going to do. The temperature was dropping and dropping fast, and all I had on was a cropped denim jacket, a thin orange T-shirt that said I’M WHAT WILLIS IS TAKING ABOUT, a pair of denim capris, and open-toed wedged mules.

  I paused beneath a street lamp, pulled my compact from my purse, and checked my face—I knew it, my lips were turning blue. If I didn’t find someplace warm and soon, I was going to die from hypothermia!

  I looked left and then right. I had no clue where I was. I’d been walking aimlessly for hours, and my watch told me it was after three in the morning. I moved on, passing an American Apparel store and then a Foot Locker. The area was starting to look familiar. A Gap store sat on the corner ahead of me. I snapped my fingers in triumph. I was in the East Village!

  My pace quickened and in a few more steps I was standing in front of the Astor Place train station. Fishing my Metrocard out of my back pocket, I hurried down the steps and through the turnstile. The number 6 train was just pulling into the station.

  Jumping on, habit took over and I looked frantically around for a seat, but the train car was empty except for two people.

  The whole world was home: cozy, warm, and asleep.

  I sat under a poster that pictured a homeless person, with a caption that read GIVE IN THE RIGHT PLACES.

  Leaning my head back, I allowed the warmth of the subway car to penetrate my skin. I had never felt more grateful in my entire life.

  It looked like I would have to spend another twenty-four hours riding the train, but this would be the last time.

  Monday was just a day away, and I had a huge office, in-suite bathroom, and fresh clothes waiting in my coat closet.

  I would slip into the building early, shower, and change, and no one would be the wiser.

  After that, I planned to go down to Accounting and get an advance on my check—just in case Noah was still upset and I needed to crash at a hotel for a few days.

  Yes, I had it all planned out.

  Everything would be just fine.

  Crystal

  i didn’t want to leave, but when ten o’clock rolled around and Noah started looking at his watch and Deeka began looking at his, I thought that, yeah, it was time to go.

  After Geneva retired to her bedroom in a huff, the rest of us decided that there was no sense in wasting all that good food, and so the celebration continued on without her.

  I gave Charlie a kiss on her cheek and gave Deeka a hug. “Hey, you’re trembling,” he said. I pulled away from him.

  “Am I? I think I might be coming down with something,” I lied, starting quickly toward the door.

  “I’ll give you a call next week,” Deeka said.

  “Okay.”

  “Hey, man, it was nice seeing you,” Noah said, extending his hand.

  “Same here,” Deeka replied as they shook.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Geneva is just probably going through menopause or something,” Noah joked.

  Deeka just shrugged his shoulders and pulled the door open.

  Arms linked, Noah and I started across Columbus Avenue toward Central Park. “I’m so glad you’re home, Noah.”

  “Me too.”

  We hadn’t really had a conversation, what with Geneva’s episode and Charlie dominating our time by singing every song she’d learned since preschool.

  But there was something else too. After the scare
I’d had, my mind was floating, but Noah seemed just as occupied and I didn’t feel like it had anything at all to do with Chevy.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Me? Sure, why?”

  “You seemed a little distant tonight.”

  “I think you’re confusing me with you.”

  Okay, so whatever was going on in Noah’s life, he wasn’t quite ready to talk about it. I completely understood.

  “I’m fine.” I laughed and unlinked my arm from his. Skipping a few paces ahead, I stretched my arms out by my sides and yelled, “It’s spring and all is right with the world!”

  And the Oscar goes to…

  Noah walked me to my door, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t get him to come upstairs. I really didn’t want to be alone tonight.

  “Nah, Miss Thing, maybe next weekend we can do the slumber party thing,” Noah said, looking up at the sky. “But tonight, I’m sleeping in my own bed.”

  “Okay.”

  I didn’t even try to hide my disappointment.

  “Don’t be giving me those puppy-dog eyes. That only works on straight men,” he chastised before hugging me tight.

  “Call me when you get home so that I know you’re safe, okay?”

  Noah blew me a kiss over his shoulder. “Will do.”

  This was one time I was happy that there were cameras in the hallways and elevators. That was one civil right I was more than happy to give up if it meant keeping me safe from the likes of Kendrick Greene.

  I didn’t know he was out of jail. And there wouldn’t be any reason for me to know, as I’d stopped communicating with him the day he flooded my apartment, stole my jewelry, and was arrested on national television in connection with some drug bust.

  He’d written me dozens of letters from jail, telling me how much he loved me. He’d apologized profusely for what he’d done to me.

  I read every line of every letter, but I never wrote back.

  He had humiliated me, stolen from me, and lied to me—but worst of all he had broken my heart.