“I do, though.”
Jamal said nothing.
“You don’t understand. We never even really talk about it. Not even me and him. So, to tell someone else …”
But he could tell that for the first time, she was hearing herself the way he heard her—as protecting Devin even from him. In her scenario, he was the “someone else.” Those were not words you used about a man who was supposed to become your husband.
When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, and more tremulous. She took a breath between almost every sentence.
“You know those kids on the news you see every once in a while? Where someone does something horrific to them, and it turns out to be their mother’s boyfriend?” With her exhale, Makayla’s shoulders heaved against him, as though she found it physically difficult to say the words. “Devin was that kid. And though he never wound up on the news, thank God, he could have. He very easily could have.”
Jamal had no idea what she would say when she started speaking, but as he listened to each new, terrible detail of Devin’s childhood he realized that none of it came as a surprise. And when Kayla stopped talking, and turned to get on her knees, and then rest on her haunches so she could look directly at him, he saw that talking about it hurt her, just as living it had to have hurt Devin much, much more.
“So now you know,” she said. “That’s the ‘why’ of me and Devin. He just … he needed looking after. That was our job, my Nana and me. And now…” She shrugged. “Now there’s just me.”
~29~
“I had a feeling I should call you myself,” Robyn said. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Tell me what?”
When Makayla heard Robyn Scaife’s voice on the other end of the line, she assumed that the call was for Jamal. Except that he was out playing basketball with Chris, Brendan and Shawn—a weekend routine Robyn would have been well aware of.
“About me, and Tracy and Riley helping you with the last weeks of the wedding planning. It’s almost October and you haven’t even been over here to look at stuff so I was starting to get worried about your schedule, and thought I’d check in to see if you need anything.”
Makayla gripped the receiver and tried to think of a way to put what she had to say.
This, she didn’t anticipate—that Robyn had given Jamal instructions to let her know that she was willing to help with planning for their wedding. Their November wedding.
“Makayla? You there? I don’t mean to be pushy, so if you’ve got everything covered …”
“We decided to postpone,” she said in a rush.
No better way to say something like that other than to be completely direct.
“What? Why?”
“Well, it’s …”
“I’m sorry,” Robyn said. “That’s none of my business. It’s just that it’s less than two months away. He should have said something.”
“I should have said something,” Makayla interrupted. “It’s … it was my wedding too, and you and Chris …” She almost said ‘Chris Scaife’, in the way that Jamal was always teasing her about. “You and Chris were so generous to let us use your house, and everything. I should have let you know that things had changed.”
“It’s those damn blogs, isn’t it?” Robyn said. “It’s put a lot of strain on you guys, I bet.”
Despite saying she didn’t want to pry, she didn’t seem to be able to help herself.
“No,” Makayla said. “It’s not the blogs.”
“Look, what’re you up to today? I’m meeting Riley and Tracy for brunch. Do you want to join us?”
Makayla said nothing. She could think of few things as terrifying. She and Jamal were always invited to Scaife, Gardner and Cole events, but that was still the way she thought of them: Scaife, Gardner and Cole, the intimidating trio of couples who were just somewhat older than her, but were lightyears ahead in sophistication and experience.
Whenever she went to any of their houses, she found refuge in playing with their kids; or by talking to other, less intimidating guests.
“Truthfully, you should have been coming to these brunches all along,” Robyn said. “We have them when the men are out doing their thing. But Riley thought we’d probably just make you uncomfortable trying to force our friendship on you. That’s not true, is it? I mean, you’d want to come, wouldn’t you?”
And what was Makayla supposed to say to that? Especially when she sounded so hopeful.
Robyn Scaife could not have been more of an opposite to her forbidding and unapproachable husband; just as Tracy Cole could not have been more different than hers. And as for Riley Gardner? She had always been sweet to Makayla when they met, but she was still … who she was. And who could completely relax around that?
“No, I’d love to come,” Makayla said, feigning enthusiasm. “Where do you all go for brunch?”
“Usually different places around town, but today it’s at Tracy and Brendan’s place in Brooklyn because of the new baby and Tracy not wanting to take her out too much.”
“Oh, okay. What time were you …?”
“Now. I’m leaving home now. Should be there in about forty minutes or so. But since you’re in Midtown, I could ask Riley if she minds swinging by to pick you up.”
Swallowing hard at the thought of riding alone and trying to make conversation with K Smooth’s wife, Makayla summoned up a little enthusiasm.
“That’d be great. If she doesn’t mind …”
“She won’t mind,” Robyn said with certainty. “So, go get dressed and I’ll give her your number to call you when she’s almost there. And when you get here, we’ll figure out this ‘postponing the wedding’ nonsense.”
“You have to believe ninety percent of what they say, and … No, ten percent of what they say and ninety percent of what they do. That’s it,” Tracy said nodding, satisfied that she had gotten it right. “He didn’t tell anyone the wedding’s off, so he doesn’t really want the wedding to be off. I say you keep it moving just like it’s going to happen.”
Riley laughed and shoved Tracy’s shoulder.
“No, Makayla, do not listen to her. Before she and Brendan got married she did the most batshit crazy things you ever …”
“I did not! He was the one who …”
Makayla sat among the women, in Tracy Cole’s living room, overwhelmed by the way they bantered and teased each other back and forth, pouring mimosas, handing Tracy’s new baby between them, and popping slivers of lox, and pieces of brie into their mouths.
The baby’s name was Noelle, and she was just as beautiful as Layla, Tracy and Brendan Cole’s now three-year-old. This one, though, hadn’t inherited her mother’s auburn hair and light-colored eyes. She was more olive-complected, with her father’s darker skin and eyes, and even a single dimple on one cheek like he had. It was as though nature had divided up the parents’ genes and made one little replica of each.
As the women talked and laughed, sometimes raucously, Noelle occasionally jumped, startled momentarily in her sleep by the sudden noise, but she didn’t wake up. No one suggested that Tracy put her down, and Makayla was glad, because the baby gave her something to do when she felt out of her depth to join in the conversation.
“This isn’t some rom-com, Tracy. So, let’s say she just goes ahead and plans this wedding without him knowing. On the actual day of the event, what’s she supposed to do?”
“Tell him he’s going to a cookout at Chris and Robyn’s,” Tracy said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“No, that’s something you would do,” Robyn chimed in.
“Yeah. And?”
They all collapsed into laughter again while Makayla smiled, feeling awkward even being there, let alone having her very real, life-situation be the subject of such casual debate.
“Okay, let’s get serious for a minute, though,” Robyn said, holding up a hand. “Makayla might not care what we think. And that would totally be her right.”
“That�
�s a good point,” Tracy said, training her slightly bleary hazel eyes in Makayla’s direction. “Do you care what we think?”
All three women were looking at her now. Makayla swallowed.
“It’s fine if you don’t,” Riley said, smiling encouragingly. “Believe me, I know all about people trying to offer unwelcome advice about my relationship. And if I had listened …”
Tracy rolled her eyes. “I know you’re talking about me.”
“Not everything’s about you, Tracy,” Riley sighed.
“That’s what Brendan says,” Tracy responded. “But he’s wrong about everything, so …”
“Shh!” Robyn hissed. “Will you two … Makayla, it’s fine. We have plenty of opinions, and sometimes other people’s opinions can just make things worse. So, only if you want to hear them.”
“I kind of … yeah, I’m curious, I guess,” she said finally. In her arms, Noelle cooed in her sleep, probably having sweet baby dreams.
“Oh, thank God,” Tracy groaned melodramatically, bending over at the waist in her seat. As the only one who didn’t have to go anywhere after brunch was over, she seemed to have decided she could get drunker than anyone else. “Because I wasn’t going to be able to keep from telling you anyway.”
And this time, when everyone started laughing, Makayla couldn’t stop herself from joining in.
‘You just have to live your life. You just have to live your life, and he’ll have to decide for himself whether he wants to be part of it.’
That was the advice Tracy gave her.
After all the giggles were let out, and the silliness was done with, that was what she told Makayla when they were alone in the kitchen for a few minutes, just as the brunch was winding up. Riley had gone upstairs to finally put Noelle down, and Robyn was in the living room, gathering up the remnants of their little party, when Tracy had come in to load the dishwasher.
‘You can’t force it,’ Tracy told her, unprompted. ‘You just have to go about living your life.’
It was simple, but good advice.
She was young, she lived well, and she had a man who loved her. But there was more to her life than figuring out how to be a good fiancée and partner for him. She was in school, she was making new friends, she had a cousin she didn’t see enough of.
There was plenty of life to live.
Even if, eventually, that life turned out to be one without Jamal in it.
“I went to brunch with Robyn, Tracy and Riley.”
“For real?” Jamal stuck his head back out of the bathroom, the toothbrush still in his mouth.
They were getting ready for bed, after having been apart for the entire day, and he’d idly asked her what she’d been up to. It was the norm lately on Saturdays, for him to go to work after playing basketball. Makayla had stopped making demands on his Saturday time, and found that occupying the day, even without him, was much easier than she thought.
Had it not been for the brunch, she would have been back at her old apartment, where Candace was redecorating, and painting. Makayla was helping her out by picking household items, and as nonthreateningly as possible, suggesting that she pay for the bigger ticket items. It was fun, being able to do things like that for her cousin, but she didn’t want to lord it over her.
“How was that?” Jamal asked, foam coming out of the corner of his mouth.
“They’re fun. I had a really good time.”
“Fun isn’t the word that comes to mind when I think about Tracy,” Jamal said going back into the bathroom. Makayla heard him spit, and then the sound of the faucet being turned on.
“She’s probably just misunderstood,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the water.
“Misunderstood? I don’t think so.”
“Well I like her. I even think I might like her most of all.”
“Well, you do like the difficult ones,” Jamal said.
“Oh, be quiet, you,” she murmured.
Jamal emerged from the bathroom and switched off the lights. When he did, he opened the blinds, so that from their bed, they could see the skyline. The view, which Makayla never got tired of, was breathtaking.
When she had first moved into this apartment, she spent hours studying it, wondering if she could concentrate hard enough and find the exact spot where her old neighborhood was. Those nights, of studying the cityscape had been the lonely ones, when Jamal had just assumed his new role, and was away with Chris Scaife a lot.
He was in New York now, more often than not, but he still felt like he was away sometimes. She was frightened, and a little sad to realize that she was getting used to it.
When she felt his weight on the other side of the bed, she tensed a little, and then her body was buzzing, the way it almost always did when he was near. But tonight, when he lay back, moving aside the covers and preparing to pull them over himself, Makayla held his hand and moved atop him, straddling his middle.
Jamal was still for a moment. As still as a statue. She knew why. It was because, though their sex life had resumed, they had reverted to what it had been way back when he was the only one who initiated. All the emotional uncertainty had left her sexually unsure as well, so that while Makayla enjoyed it, she hadn’t fully participated in it.
“Hey,” Jamal said. His voice was hoarse, and barely audible. “What you doin’ up there?”
Makayla lifted her nightshirt over her head. She was wearing nothing underneath. Reaching for his hands, she placed them on her breasts. He let them sit there, unmoving.
“I want you,” she said. She felt her voice shake.
“You got me.”
She leaned in, putting her lips against his, and then slowly, coaxingly, began kissing him, nipping his upper lip between hers, then sucking the lower. When she slid her tongue between them, he was waiting for her; waiting, but not leading.
So, she led.
“I want you,” she said again.
Grinding her hips against him, she rubbed her nipples against the smoothness of his chest. Soon, he was groaning into her mouth, and his hands were on her ass, pulling her down to press even harder against him.
“I love hearin’ you say that shit.”
She wasn’t listening, because she had moved her lips from his, and was tonguing his neck, tasting his skin, and feeling the pace of his heart increase so that it was beating almost erratically against her chest. As she moved her hips, his grip on her ass tightened almost painfully, and his breaths became shallower. He was barely in control and Makayla loved it. She was doing this. She was the one with all the power for a change, and it felt incredible.
Raising her hips, she reached behind her and fumbled to shove Jamal’s boxers down. It was harder to do from that angle, and in the dark, and because he was solidly erect. Giving up on the contortions, she instead turned completely around so her back was to him, and pulled them down. Instead of facing him again, she raised herself and without warning, squatted against him, so that he was immediately and completely buried inside her.
“Aw … shit …”
Makayla felt his large hands, holding her hips, trying to control the movement as she lowered and lifted. The pressure was different, hitting a spot that was just barely on the other side of painful.
Bracing herself with the flat of her palms on his thighs, she moved with complete abandon, letting her body find its own rhythm. She was in a place that was almost mindless when she felt Jamal sit up, and wrap his arms around her middle, tight as a vice, his hot breaths bathing the nape of her neck.
“What’re you doin’?” he said against the shell of her ear. He sounded anguished. “What’re we doin’, baby … what’re we doing?”
She knew what he meant. Fucking was fine. They did plenty of it, because there was always love there. But fucking like this, using each other, but not seeing each other, was not fine. It felt good, because they fit; like two pieces of a puzzle, they fit as though made for each other. But tonight, though it felt good, it didn’t feel right.<
br />
Jamal lifted her off him and Makayla’s body clenched in surprise, objecting to his leaving her so suddenly.
Turning her onto her back, he sank between her knees and cradled her face between his forearms. Makayla could make out his thick silky eyebrows, his strong jaw. He lifted his hips, and pulled back a little and just as she expected him to surge forward, and enter her, he stilled, as if sensing that she would lose herself in the sensation, and tune all of him out, except for the part that was giving her pleasure. Makayla couldn’t see his eyes, not completely, but she knew they were fixed on hers.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice. “Look at me …”
“I am … I’m …”
“No,” he said, his tone insistent. “Look at me.”
Makayla looked.
“I know it’s been … it’s fucked up right now, but I’m still here, baby. I’m still here … and I’m not goin’ anywhere. You hear me? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Damn him.
And she had been doing so well.
~30~
“You eating dinner AT home tonight?”
Kayla stuck her head into the den, moments after he arrived, just as he was getting settled, and thinking about which games might be on. He’d heard her in the kitchen, moving things around and guessed she was cooking.
“Yeah. What’d you make?”
Kayla’s eyes lit up at the question, like she’d been waiting all day for someone to ask her that precise question.
Coming fully into the room, she perched on the edge of one of the chairs. She was wearing only her short-shorts—the all-purpose denim ones that he would burn before he let her wear them out of the house—and one of his old undershirts that was so large on her it gaped at the arms, offering a teasing glimpse of the sides of her breasts.
“You ready for this?” she asked.
The Takedown Page 27
