Doin' Me (4 page)

Tyson read the first paragraph of the brief for the wrongful death case for the third time. Like with the two previous attempts, his thoughts wandered off from the written words to the thorn in his flesh. Reyna. As hard as he tried, Tyson couldn't get her off his mind. Exercise didn't work; neither did meditation. All night and most of the morning, he had declared he no longer cared for her, but his heart had rejected the memo. He wanted what Kevin and Leon had, and he wanted it with Reyna.

Procrastination had never been a character trait of his, but Tyson willfully saved and closed the legal document for future review. He swiveled around from his maple-wood desk and stared out the window. Having an office on the sixteenth floor in downtown Oakland had its advantages, one being an overhead view of Lake Merritt. From his office window, Tyson also had an unobstructed view of the Oakland Estuary. The water, although murky, always had a cathartic effect on his spirit. On many occasions the freshwater and saltwater waves had settled his anxieties over a pending case. He closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, and mentally pictured the waves washing the stress away. Unfortunately for him, residue from Reyna's rejection was too deeply embedded in his spirit for the exercise to work.

At the slight knock on his door, Tyson rubbed his beard, then swiveled around and prepared to greet the knocker, who he assumed was his secretary. One of things he valued most about Lois was her ability to know when he wanted to be left alone. In their five-year employment relationship, Lois had yet to invade his professional and personal life.

“Yes, Lois?” he said in his customary monotone voice. As the door crept open, he expected to see Lois's salt-and-pepper hair and gold-rimmed eyeglasses. What appeared was a spiked hairdo, jean-clad legs, and spiked heels. Reyna.

Being caught off guard wasn't something he favored, and Reyna's jeans being at least one size too small added to Tyson's sudden discomfort. Instantly his body temperature rose, and he felt his temporal vein pulsate. His suddenly sweaty hands moved involuntarily, fingering the Montblanc pen set, then the telephone. As Reyna moved toward him, Tyson gave up and leaned back in his chair and stared at her.

Reyna was a beautiful woman, but the tight clothes she wore didn't leave much to his or anyone else's imagination. Her makeup was more conservative than the last time he saw her, and she displayed less skin, but the overall look stilled screamed “Will do anything for fifty dollars.” Long gone were the days when they were members of Pastor Jennings's church and her wardrobe consisted of floor-length skirts and turtleneck tops.

Her full lips parted into the smile he adored, and an unexpected twinge caused his abdominal muscles to tighten as the thought that she'd given the lips he'd longed to kiss to another man brought him back to reality. The few remaining feelings he held for her were swiftly brushed away. Reyna had assaulted his ego, and he wouldn't pursue her again.

“What are you doing here?” He asked the question after redirecting his focus to the computer screen. He opened the Internet browser and checked two e-mails before realizing Reyna hadn't responded. He looked up to find a king-size package of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups—his favorite candy bar—surrounded by Reyna's decorated nails. He smirked but didn't accept the token gift. “You can keep that. You can't make up for the humiliation you caused me with a candy bar.” He opened the next e-mail.

“What about two?”

“Unbelievable,” he mumbled when Reyna presented another orange, yellow, and brown package.

Reyna pulled her arm back and plopped down in the leather chair reserved for visitors. “Come on, big guy. Stop playing hard to get.”

“Give those to your new boyfriend.” Tyson deleted the wrong e-mail as the bitter words spilled out.

Reyna crossed her legs at the ankle and shifted in the chair. “What boyfriend?”

Tyson pushed the computer mouse aside. “The one you used me to get at the Claremont.” He looked her dead in the eyes. “I hope he's everything you need.” For a second he thought he saw hurt cover Reyna's face. When she placed the Reese's on the desk and lowered her head, Tyson was certain things hadn't gone as well as he assumed with Mr. Dancin' Machine.

“There's absolutely nothing between us,” she answered just above a whisper. “Turns out we're totally wrong for each other.”

Tyson saw the tears Reyna attempted to hide by blinking rapidly, but his bruised ego prevented him from caring. With his elbows fixed on the desk, he asked, “And your point for being here is . . . ?” He let the question hang.

Suddenly Reyna's face split into a full smile, and Tyson's heart fluttered. Although he no longer liked her, he would always love her dimpled left cheek. The fragrance swirling around his nostrils wasn't bad, either.

“I've got some great news, and I wanted to share it with my best buddy.”

Tyson leaned back and smirked. “And who might that be?”

Reyna threw her hands up. “Will you loosen up? Okay. I admit I embarrassed you at the Claremont. I could have worn something different, but you didn't have to call me cheap, either. And maybe I said some harsh words, but they were the truth. I mean, we're friends, but sometimes you act like I'm your woman, and we both know that's not the case.” She pushed the candy toward him. “Why don't you eat this candy so we can go back to being buddies?”

Marlissa and Starla had been right. He had failed terribly in making his intentions known. Reyna was oblivious to his attraction. “Buddies?” he asked through a tight jaw.

“Look, you drive me crazy sometimes . . . okay, most of the time. But you've helped me to heal, and I value you as a friend. Actually, right now I
need
your friendship.”

Tyson was determined to cut ties with Reyna, but her last statement piqued his interest. Reyna needed him. “What exactly do you need?”

Reyna relaxed and laced her fingers. “I've decided it's time for me to move out of my mother's house. I'll be thirty-one in a couple of months, and I've never lived on my own. Plus, my mother is still attached to Rosalie Jennings. I can't completely heal if my mother insists on being that demon's friend.”

Tyson flinched. “That's a little harsh, don't you think? Pastor Jennings may be a little misguided, but I wouldn't label her a demon.”

Reyna's eyes rolled. “Sugarcoat it any way you want, but she still has horns.”

“I see you've taken responsibility for your actions,” he responded with normal sarcasm.

“I am taking responsibility for myself by moving out. It's time I stood on my own two feet. With a little help, of course,” she added when Tyson raised an eyebrow.

Tyson looked at his watch, then back at Reyna. “I don't have much time. Tell me exactly what you need me to do.”

Reyna's eyes grew wide. “Promise you'll do it?”

“I promise to consider it, buddy,” he said dryly, then tore open the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. He bit into the chocolate-covered peanut butter without looking at it. He savored his one indulgence while watching Reyna's lips move. She mentioned something about needing credit for a car, or was it an apartment? He wasn't sure. The movement of Reyna's pouty lips had distracted him. He'd lost count of the times he'd wanted to taste those lips over the past four months, but he hadn't tasted them, and now he wouldn't.

“Well, what do you think?”

Tyson quickly swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Run that by me again. I want to make sure I understand you.” Reyna appeared oblivious to Tyson's inattentiveness.

“So you want to use my signature to get an apartment?” he asked after she repeated the proposition.

“If you don't mind, buddy. It will only be for the first year,” Reyna explained. “You and Kevin are the only people I know with good credit and a six-figure salary. Kevin and I are cool now, but I don't think it's a good idea to ask the man I once stalked to cosign for me.”

“I'm sure Kevin would help you, but I don't think Marlissa would appreciate that.” Tyson took another bite, then slowly chewed as he mused over the request. Reyna needed to be on her own, but did he need to be the one to help her? Although she would be responsible for her living expenses, the arrangement would connect her to him in a way he didn't want, but that was all Reyna was offering. He had an offer of his own. “If I were your landlord, I wouldn't check your credit report. I'd give you a year lease and trust you to pay your rent on time.”

Reyna's mouth dropped, then closed. She looked perplexed. “Tyson, what are you saying? Your house is big, but we can't live under the same roof.”

Tyson balled up the candy wrapper and tossed it into the trash can. “You're right. We can't live under the same roof, but I have a vacant town house you can move into. It's already furnished.”

Reyna's mocha-colored lips separated and closed three times before she found her voice. “Are y—you serious?” she stuttered. “I didn't know you owned a town house. You'll let me live in it?”

Tyson smirked and considered disclosing just how much he owned, then thought better of it. Everything material Reyna desired, he could provide with ease. If she weren't so obsessed with making up for lost time, she would see that what God had prepared for her was far better than anything she could ask for or think. For now, he would help her . . . might even pray for her, but that was all.

“You can move in anytime,” he said as he scribbled the address and rental fee on a Post-it. “Of course, you'll need to have the utilities turned on. Since we're buddies, I won't require a security deposit,” he added with a hint of sarcasm.

Reyna read the address. The paper slipped from her fingers, and before the yellow square touched the carpet, Reyna ran around the desk and wrapped her arms around Tyson's neck. “Thank you! Thank you!” She rained kisses over his forehead and bearded cheeks. “That's an exclusive development, a gated community.” She released him and danced around the office, singing an updated version of McFadden & Whitehead's “Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now.”

Beads of sweat lined Tyson's forehead and his breathing accelerated as he watched the celebration. Finally, he knew how Reyna's lips felt against his skin. All he had to do to reap the mediocre reward was meet her need.

He cleared his throat. “There is one condition.”

“I'm on the move. Ain't no stopping . . .” Reyna stopped midway through a left turn of the electric slide. “What's that?”

“Come to church with me on Sunday.” Both Reyna's neck and eyes rolled, but he ignored her antics. He stood and reached for his suit jacket. “I have to visit a client now, but I'll pick you up at ten o'clock Sunday morning.” He fixed his gaze on her as he buttoned the tailored suit and waited for the excuses, but none came. Her face contorted, but Reyna didn't utter one word of protest.

“Fine,” she finally agreed. “I appreciate this so much, I'm going to fix you up with Paige. You two are perfect for each other. Both of you are anal to the tenth degree.” Then she danced out the door.

Tyson looked at the remaining package of candy on his desk and shook his head as if to clear it. What had just happened? He'd just offered his property to the woman he'd vowed not to pursue, and all it took was chocolate-covered peanut butter cups.

“Ain't no stoppin' me now . . .” Reyna was still singing the seventies classic when she returned to her desk at the real estate office. The crowded workstation appeared more spacious and the dark décor appeared brighter now that her life was finally on the right track. She was moving on up from a drab 350-square-foot bedroom to a deluxe town house on the north side of town. And it was furnished and had a pool, a gym, and reserved parking. She'd shown and leased the development to several corporate clients seeking a place to accommodate out-of-town executives, but never did she think she'd be a tenant.

“Oh, Tyson, God used you to bless me today,” she said audibly, then frowned. “Where did that come from? God had nothing to do with this. I got this on my own.” That was when she remembered Tyson's little condition. He had a lot of nerve dangling a furnished town house as bait to get her to even think about gracing any worship service with her presence. As much as she detested organized religion, she needed what Tyson had offered. Which meant she had to play by his rules. A couple of hours listening to religious rhetoric couldn't hurt or change her resolve about God.

She twisted in the chair, and her abdominal muscles quickly reminded her how much it had cost her to be with Chase. She had received nothing in return, unless she counted total humiliation. Her eyes slammed shut when tears threatened to spill. “I will not waste another tear on that loser.” After the lump in her throat dissolved, she threw her head back and replaced the painful memory with thoughts of Tyson.

One day she'd tell him how she regretted not listening to him about her attire. Maybe. To pacify him, she'd attend church service—once—and as a bonus, she'd sit around the sanctified Sunday dinner table and listen to the Jenningses and the Scotts proclaim how good God was. “I guess the Bible is good for something. I asked, and then I received.” She was laughing at her own joke when Paige entered her space.

“You're in a good mood.”

Paige's stoic tone failed to place a damper on Reyna's jubilation. “I'm moving into the Broadway Terrace complex in North Oakland,” she announced.

“Into Tyson's place.” Paige voiced the question in the form of a statement.

“Yes,” Reyna answered cautiously. “How did you know?”

Paige rested her hip against the wall with her arms folded. “He called me and canceled his rental listing agreement. He said he'd found a tenant, but I had no idea it was you. Interesting,” she said and shook her head slightly. “At any rate, can you schedule the maintenance work for Cedar Heights for next week?”

“Sure.” Paige turned to leave, but Reyna wanted to plant a seed. “Paige, you and Tyson have a lot in common. Have you considered going out with him? You'd have to unwind him first, but he's a good guy.”

Paige retreated and offered Reyna some advice. “I know he's a good guy because I've already unwound him. I hope you learn to value his worth and don't take advantage of him. For the record, I know Tyson a lot better than you think, and I know for a fact he wouldn't appreciate you, of all people, playing matchmaker for him.”

Reyna watched Paige's back pass over the threshold, not sure how to interpret her comment and too excited to care.

 

 

Three hours later, when she entered her mother's house and heard voices, the boxes she'd picked up from the storage company on the way home tumbled to the floor. Pastor Rosalie Jennings was there. Reyna hadn't seen her former pastor since Kevin and Marlissa renewed their vows five months ago. At the time Pastor Jennings had refused to acknowledge her presence.

Reyna gathered the boxes, and instead of heading upstairs, she marched into the living room. “Might as well tell them both to kiss my behind at the same time,” she grumbled.

“I hate to interrupt this hypocritical bonding moment, but I have an announcement to make,” Reyna yelled above their conversation. “I'm moving this weekend.”

Jewel's head snapped around; then her shoulders slumped.

“I would move tonight, but the electricity and phone won't be turned on for forty-eight hours. I can't wait to leave the company of manipulators and thieves.”

Pastor Jennings closed her Bible. “I beg your pardon, young lady.”

“You heard me, lying prophet,” Reyna sneered. “I can't wait to get out of here and live my own life.”

“Reyna, that's not necessary,” Jewel said. “If you're leaving, then leave, but don't insult my guest.”

“You're always taking up for her. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you're lesbians, but you're too
holy
for that.”

Jewel gasped, and Pastor Jennings began speaking in tongues.

Reyna feigned innocence. “Did I say something too dirty for your holy ears?”

“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” Pastor Jennings's words in an unknown tongue transformed into a chant.

“Be careful,” Jewel warned, “how you disrespect those who have the rule over you.”

Reyna stepped closer and towered over her mother. “That's where you're wrong, Mommy dearest. You can be her puppet for the rest of your life, but nobody rules over me.” She shifted the boxes to the opposite arm, then stomped away.

Inside her bedroom, Reyna dropped the boxes on the floor and plopped down on the bed. Her eyes slowly roamed the cluttered room. What was once a place of refuge over time had turned into a dungeon. When she was a child, the plastered walls had shielded Reyna from her parents' arguments. During her high school years, her bedroom transformed into a place of fantasy as she envisioned falling in love with and marrying her Prince Charming. Later on, the room would become plotting headquarters for her futile pursuit of Kevin Jennings. She hated this room. She hated this house and the two women downstairs, who were probably still praying to some spirit and speaking jibber-jabber.

Reyna grunted. “I don't need them or their tired prayers. As long as God doesn't bother me, I won't bother Him.”