Crazy Love (20 page)

T
ameeka glanced down at Mohammad. He was sound asleep. He'd unexpectedly showed up at her door with a bottle of wine, and she'd been too surprised to turn him away. They drank his bottle of wine and raided her liquor stash, then inhaled two more bottles of wine. Tameeka told herself that she'd send him home when they were done. When he started kissing her and tugging at her clothes, then pulled her into her bedroom, she was feeling too good to tell him no.

She'd just started to drift off to sleep when her cell phone rang. “Hey, whassup?”

“Tyrell?” Tameeka squeaked.

“Yeah, it's me. You forgot what I sound like, baby?” he joked.

“Uh, no! I was doing some paperwork,” she explained as she poked Mohammad in the ribs. He simply grunted and rolled over.

“Hard day?” he asked concerned.

“Long and hard,” she answered as she slipped out of bed, wrapped a sheet around her and walked into the living room. “I'm just so tired. I think I'll go to bed early tonight.”

“Aw, baby. I wanted to know if you wanted to go to the movies tonight.”

Tameeka gave a shaky laugh, then glanced toward her bedroom. “Oh, Tyrell, I can't. I'm worn out.”

“Forget the movie then. I'll come over and give my baby a massage.”

“Don't worry about me. I'll be okay.”

“Too late. I'm right around the corner from your place. I'll be there in five.”

“Tyrell!” she shouted into the phone, but he had already hung up. “Oh, shit!” She ran back into the bedroom. Hurrying to the bed, she shook Mohammad and he turned over on his side. “Mo! Wake up,” she insisted, her voice shaky with panic. When he didn't move, she ran into the bathroom, filled a cup with water, rushed back into the bedroom and splashed it on his face. He woke up sputtering.

“What the hell did you do that for?” he demanded, knuckling his eyes. “If you wanted to wake me all—”

“You need to leave! Tyrell is on his way!” Tameeka shrieked as she ran around the bedroom, plucking up Mo's clothes and tossing them at him.

“What?” Mohammad asked, giving her a blurry look.

“My boyfriend is on his way over. Get dressed and get out!” she yelled, as she stuck her legs in a pair of jeans, then reached for a top. Underwear be damned. Mohammad had scooped up his clothes, went into the bathroom and closed the door. “What the hell are you doing in there?” Tameeka shouted, banging on the door.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Mo called back.

“There's a freaking McDonald's down the street. You can stop there. Just hurry up,” she pleaded as she paced in front of the bathroom door. She anxiously looked at the clock, then resumed pounding. Mohammad snatched the door open and stepped out, fully dressed. “Perfect. Now let's go.” Tameeka grabbed his hand and dragged him through the apartment.

Mohammad froze, then patted his pants. “I can't leave,” he announced.

“Do you want to get killed?” Tameeka asked.

“I need my car keys,” Mohammad answered.

“Oh!” Tameeka shrieked as she pushed Mohammad toward the bedroom. “Go find them!” It felt like a lifetime had passed before Mohammad emerged from the bedroom dangling the keys.

“I found them.”

“Okay. Now go.” They hurried across the apartment to the front door. “I'll call you tomorrow,” she promised, then opened the front door to Tyrell.

Neither of the trio said a word, then, “What the fuck is this?” Tyrell roared, and Tameeka winced.

“Nothing,” Tameeka weakly offered.

“She's right…it's nothing, man. I brought her some receipts for some bills she wanted me to drop off,” Mohammad drawled. “That's it.”

Tyrell's gaze went from Tameeka to Mohammad. Tameeka looked like she was ready to shit bricks and Mohammad looked like he couldn't leave fast enough. “Bullshit! One of you better tell me what the fuck is really going on. Or it's gonna get really crunk up in here,” he warned in a deadly voice.

“Go!” Tameeka instructed Mohammad, shoving him out the door. She knew that if she didn't get him out then, Tyrell wouldn't let him leave without any broken bones.

Mohammad shot Tameeka a concerned glance, then raced down the steps.

Tyrell silently followed Tameeka into the apartment and slammed the door behind him. The smell of sex enveloped him. Tyrell reached out and grabbed Tameeka's arm, forcing her to face him.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Tyrell hissed.

Tameeka looked up at him, her eyes were glassy and her lips were quivering. “Nothing, baby. It's just like Mohammad said, he dropped off some receipts for me. That's all.”

“Why couldn't he give them to you at the shop?”

“Because,” Tameeka stuttered. “He knew that you didn't want me seeing him,” she answered, then averted her eyes.

“So y'all thought that it'd be better for him to come to your house? That doesn't make sense. Come up with something better!”

“He was in the neighborhood. It wasn't like we planned this.”

Tyrell's eyes narrowed. “Planned what?” he asked, leaning closer, and Tameeka whimpered. “Planned
what,
Tameeka? Answer me!” he yelled.

“It wasn't even like that,” Tameeka sobbed. “Mo—” She stopped. Tyrell had glared at her as though she had called Mohammad “sweetheart.” “I mean, Mohammad and I never planned for it to happen. It just happened,” she said, and it sounded weak even to her ears.

“Just happened? Just happened! Oh, now you're gonna tell me that you two just tripped on one of your throw rugs and fell right on top of each other. Well, I tell you, his dick should get a fucking award for having such perfect aim.” He glared at the woman he loved; the woman who had stolen his heart. “You never did tell me. How long have you two been fucking each other?”

Tameeka's face was slick with tears and her lips couldn't stop quivering. She shrugged helplessly. “I don't know…It's not important.”

“The hell it's not important. How—long—has—this—been—going—on?” Tyrell asked, and every word hit her like a slap.

“A month or so,” Tameeka squeaked.

“Did you fuck him first, then fuck me? Or maybe you fucked me first, then gave him sloppy seconds. Is that the way you did it?” Tameeka wordlessly shook her head. “Well, fuck you!” he spat. “'Bye, Tameeka.”

He walked slowly to his truck. He stopped when he saw a familiar figure leaning against a car. It took him a moment to recognize him, but when he did, he charged. By the time Mohammad saw Tyrell coming toward him, it was too late. He instantly regretted his decision to hang around to see if Tameeka needed him. He jumped up and rounded the car; he had his hand on the door handle when Tyrell grabbed his collar and whirled him around.

“So you like fucking other men's women?” Tyrell hissed to Mohammad, who cowered under him like a baby. “Well, I guess pussies like pussies,” Tyrell hissed before he drew his arm back.

Some of Tameeka's neighbors had opened their doors and stepped out, the less brave ones watched from their apartment windows.

“Don't do this, man. Let's talk about this. Man to man,” Mohammad begged. Tyrell's fist was as big as a cannonball.

“So you're a man now? You weren't showing me any respect while you were screwing my lady,” Tyrell spat.

“She told me that you guys were having problems,” Mohammad whimpered, his legs shaking. “We didn't mean for anything to happen.”

Tyrell chuckled nastily; he was tired of hearing that phrase. The punches came so fast that Mohammad didn't have time to brace himself. Moments later, Mohammad slid to the ground. Gasping for breath and his chest heaving, Tyrell stood over Mohammad's motionless body.

“Somebody call nine-one-one,” a female voice shouted.

1. I have a wonderful man
   
2. My family is awesome
   
3. I'm healthy
   

S
tacie nervously stirred the pot of chili. She had gotten the recipe from Tameeka, who had promised her that it was so easy that “even a monkey could make it.” Stacie brought the spoon to her mouth for a taste. “Ouch!”

“Hey, don't be burning those beautiful lips of yours,” Jackson said, coming up behind her. “Let Big J kiss the boo boo away.” Stacie turned around in his arms and their lips met. “Keep kissing me like that and I'm gonna have to do you right here on the kitchen floor.”

“Yeah, and have your grandmother kill us? No way,” Stacie said, beaming at him.

Jackson shook his head. “She likes you. She hardly let
me
use the kitchen. I can't wait to taste your food,” Jackson said, peering into the pot.

Stacie gently tapped his shoulder. “Stop looking. It's a surprise.” When Jackson had told her that he liked a woman who could cook, Stacie and Tameeka scoured recipes until they found an easy one. “Can you set the table for me, please?”

Jackson patted her behind. “Man, you know how to make a brother work,” he teased, but went about putting the dinnerware on the table.

“This smells delicious, Stacie,” Ettie Mae said, eyeing the pot of chili. “I haven't had chili in such a long time, spoon it in.” Stacie eagerly began filling the bowls with the food and Jackson blessed it. Ettie Mae took a spoonful of the chili and her eyes immediately watered. She grabbed a glass of water and gulped it down.

Jackson and Jameel looked at each other. “I'm not touching that,” Jameel said, pushing his bowl away.

“Oh, no!” Stacie cried, and raced to the kitchen for the recipe, returning with it in her hand. “I put in two Scotch bonnet peppers and it only called for one. I'm so sorry.”

Jackson got up and wrapped his arms around her. “That's okay, baby,” he said, comforting her. “Let's order a pizza.” Jameel gave a shout of delight.

“It's okay, honey,” Ettie Mae said, patting Stacie's back. “Nobody's perfect.”

When Stacie was out of the dining room, Ettie Mae laughed. “That's a good girl you have there, but I'll need to give her some cooking lessons.”

Jackson chuckled. “That's a plan.” I'll need a wife who can cook, he thought. Oh crap, where did that come from?

It wasn't until after the last piece of pizza was gone and Ettie Mae and Jameel went to bed that Jackson and Stacie had some time to themselves. They were snuggled on the couch, talking.

“It's getting pretty close to that time, isn't it,” Stacie quietly asked.

Jackson grimaced and nodded. “In about three weeks. I still can't believe the courts would authorize unsupervised visits to someone who hasn't seen their kid in years. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the court system is shitty.”

“Amen. I don't see how a judge can make such a bad decision. You're the perfect father. And you did a banging job raising Jam,” Stacie said.

“Thanks, baby.” Jackson grinned. “How's the job hunting?”

“Crappy!”

“I can always help you out. All you have to do is ask,” Jackson quietly offered.

Tameeka's words sounded in her head:
You're just like your sister
. She refused him. “You're so sweet, but the princess has to say no. Speaking of jobs, let me check my voicemail to see if any agency called me back.”

She flashed him an apologetic smile as she fished her phone from her purse and quickly checked her messages. “Yippee! An agency called. They have an executive assistant position that might go permanent. I can't wait to see where it is,” Stacie said, beaming.

T
ameeka walked listlessly around the store. Bea had suggested that she go home, but Tameeka waved her off. A big order was due and she wanted to be there to unpack and shelve it.

“Why don't I do that,” Bea offered, standing in front of the boxes when they'd finally arrived. “You go get something to eat.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not hungry,” Tameeka said, managing a weak smile.

Concerned, Bea scrutinized her boss. Tameeka looked like she hadn't slept in days. She had bags bigger than Oprah's bank account under her eyes. Bea couldn't help but notice that ever since Tameeka and Tyrell had broken up, she had stopped eating. “You need to eat,” Bea insisted, and Tameeka sadly shook her head.

“I don't want to sound melodramatic, but I'm full on sadness,” Tameeka said as she bent over the boxes to hide her swelling eyes.

Bea patted Tameeka's back. “Let me know if I can do anything,” she offered, then walked off.

Tameeka opened up a box and began pulling out items. Two hours later she reached into the last box and pulled out a book. She read the title:
To Know Oneself Is to Know Your Best Friend: How to Live a Fulfilling Life.
“I don't remember ordering this,” Tameeka muttered, then glanced up at the ceiling. “God, I know that I haven't been one of Your most consistent followers, but You know what's in my heart. Thank you very much for the gift.”

It was seven o'clock when she finally tucked the book in her purse and headed home. As soon as she stepped into the apartment, she heard Barry White coming from Stacie's bedroom and she couldn't stop the grin that spread over her face. Barry White usually meant that Jackson had stopped by for a quickie. Sure enough, thirty minutes later a glowing Stacie bounced out of her bedroom and into the kitchen.

Tameeka was sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of soup in front of her. Stacie spied an empty can on the counter top.

“Meek, girl.
Canned soup?”
Stacie said, arching an eyebrow.

“I'm not in the mood to cook,” Tameeka muttered, then lowered her head over her bowl. Stacie sat down at the table and Tameeka shooed her away. “Go on back to Jackson. I'll be okay.”

“Jackson will wait. And you're
not
okay. Ever since you and Tyrell broke up, you've been working your ass off and you've been eating like a mixed-up rabbit.”

Tameeka set down her spoon. “I don't know what else to do. It's as simple as that. I'm numb, girl. I'm so hurt, I can't feel anything,” Tameeka confided. “Then you're moving out, and I'll truly be alone,” she said sadly.

“No you won't. We'll still see each other. Besides we still have three whole weeks together; and I plan on bothering you so much that you'd wish I'd leave.”

Jackson called from the bedroom.

“I guess he's ready for round three,” Stacie said with a smile, then just as suddenly she frowned. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. That was mean of me.”

Tameeka managed a genuine smile, then said, “It wasn't. Go on and take care of your man.”

Stacie hopped out of her seat, hugged Tameeka and raced toward the bedroom. Tameeka finished off her soup before going into the living room to meditate. She was just finishing when Stacie and Jackson emerged from Stacie's bedroom, holding hands and shimmering with sex.

“We're going to get something to eat, wanna come?” Stacie asked.

Tameeka shook her head and averted her eyes. Seeing Jackson reminded her of Tyrell. “I'm fine,” she mumbled.

“We can bring you something back,” Stacie offered. “Can't we?” she asked, staring up at Jackson.

“Whatevah,” he snapped. His boy had told him what had gone down; he had no respect for cheaters. Stacie eyed him sharply and he glared at her, daring her to say something. Stacie rolled her eyes, but squeezed his hand. She didn't like his attitude, but she understood it.

Stacie and Jackson walked to the door. “Well, hit me on the cell if you change your mind.”

As soon as the door closed, Tameeka dragged herself into the kitchen to make some herbal tea. She brought the steaming cup into the living room and settled on the couch, then picked up the book. With each turned page, tears ran down her face.

“This is me!” she cried. “I intentionally do and say things that make people mad at me. This is me to a T. I do this all the time. But how can I stop?” she wondered.