Hold Me in Contempt (5 page)

I was so stunned by Yolanda's randomness that I couldn't speak soon enough to stop whatever venom was about to come from my cousin's mouth.

“Who the hell are Jay and Bey?” Tamika spat.

Leah laughed so hard, she chortled, and Yolanda joined uncomfortably, considering that maybe Tamika was joking. Somehow, she never caught Tamika's many insults. I chalked it up to her being from Oklahoma and slow on NYC-style shade.

“You know,” Yolanda said, still laughing with Lee, “Jay-Z and Beyoncé.”

“Then say Jay-Z and Beyoncé. I'm not fifteen. I don't watch BET. The hell? I hate when people do that,” Tamika said.

“Gotcha,” Yolanda answered, looking down into her purse to retrieve her cell phone. “Well, let me give you the number, Kim. Just tell her I sent you.”

“Oh, no, don't bother,” I said. “I'm sure whoever she is, she's great, but she's also far from my brother's budget.”

“Budget? Come on, honey. There's no budget when it comes to such things. It's his wedding—and we all know what that means: Spare no expense.” Yolanda grinned at me like I was an adorable but ignorant little girl. “Oh no, I'm so sorry, dear heart. I forgot I was talking to a bunch of unmarried folks. Well, you'll all see when it's your turn to walk down the aisle.” She looked around at each of us, smiling comfortingly like we were at a funeral. “And even you,” she added, winking at Leah. “Thanks to Obama!”

“Yayy! Gay marriage!” Leah cheered weakly, pumping a fist in the air, but Yolanda didn't pick up on her sarcasm and pumped a fist, too.

“Well, I don't give a damn if every gay man and woman rushes to the altar to sign those papers, I'm good on marriage,” Tamika said.

“What? Don't tell me you've given up on the brothers,” Yolanda said.

“Oh, no, honey. I never said such a thing. Brothers come in handy, but marriage isn't for me. I've raised mine and I support myself. All I need now is a soft hand and a strong back,” Tamika said.

“You are so crass,” I said, laughing with Tamika and Leah as I looked over my shoulders to be sure no one could hear Tamika.

“Crass but right. To quote my mother: Men are good for two things—paying bills and giving thrills,” Tamika added, with Yolanda looking at her like everything she was saying mocked her entire lifestyle.

“Stop it, Tamika. I know you can't really believe that. Marriage is a beautiful thing. When two people come together and they promise their love to one another for life, it's magical. Come on, ladies. What about you, Kim. Have you given up on men? On marriage?”

I am sure every tongue in that little brick-walled room stopped moving and every eye turned to me. Even the married men wanted to hear my answer. The boys in the back still in their fencing gear, too.

“I-I . . . ​I-I . . . ​Yeah. I . . . guess not. I mean, I do. I mean, yes. No . . . ​no . . . ​maybe not,” I got out before my throat started swelling and the pain in my back wrapped over my shoulders.

“Maybe?” Yolanda repeated, her eyes disbelieving. “What do you mean, ‘maybe'?”

“Well . . .  ​I—”

“You know what, don't even answer that crap,” Tamika said, cutting me off. “You'll get married when you want to get married, if you want to get married. I hate it when married women make it sound like it's the best and only thing you can do with your life, when truth be told, most of them are just fronting for the cameras. Ain't that right, Yolanda?” Now Tamika was the one serving up wide eyes to Yolanda.

“I'm not sure what you mean,” Yolanda answered coolly. “Certainly some people are faking, but that's with anything. Plenty of people are happily married.”

It was like a trap set for a cross-eyed bear. The moment Yolanda said that, I knew how Tamika would answer.

“Are
you
happily married? Any
small
problems lurking around?” Tamika asked suggestively.

“Why would you ask that? Of course I'm happily married,” Yolanda said, laughing nervously.

“Well, that's not what I—”

Glory be to God, that Leah pulled her sister's arm and announced that they were just about to leave, because if Tamika had stood there to speak her mind one second longer, poor Yolanda would've been cursed (or blessed) with the baldfaced truth about her marriage. It was all stuff I was sure she knew, but she'd die right there on the spot if she knew that we knew. And I wouldn't blame her.

“What was that about?” Yolanda said, turning to me with a confused look. “Your cousin is so crazy.”

“She's just sensitive about certain issues,” I said. “No big deal.”

“Well, I hope that doesn't roll over to you. Don't give up on love, Kim. I understand what it's like for you single girls.”

“Oh, you do?”

“I didn't meet my husband until I'd already graduated from college, girl!” Yolanda said, as if she was, like, fifty when she graduated. “But I stayed slim and fly, and when he saw me, he knew what was up. That's what you have to do. Keep yourself up. Get in the gym!” She looked down at my hips like she'd been dying to say that to me for months. “Get your hair done.” She looked up at my frizzy updo that was half natural at the roots. “Keep your nails right. Look, you're successful. You have a good résumé. Assistant district attorney in New York City! Any man would be happy to have you! I'll ask my husband if he has any friends.”

I was really ready to tell Yolanda all about her little dick husband myself then. Not for anything, but if all a woman needed was a nice shape, decent hair, clean nails, and a great résumé to find love, most of my friends would be married. Someone needed to tell Yolanda to shut the hell up, but I knew her type. She would never know she was wrong, so I chose sarcasm. “Really? That's a great idea.”

“Yes it is, girl. Look, don't even worry about it. And don't give up. You never know. Your blessing could be waiting right outside that door.” Yolanda pointed toward the door Tamika and Leah had exited through after pulling Miles away from his buddies. She looked so sincere, I was about to burst out laughing.

“Right,” I said, backing away from her slowly. “And that's a good thing, because I was about to walk out that very door. Guess I'll see you next time.”

Outside, I found Leah, Tamika, and Miles awaiting my escape.

“I don't know why you continue to entertain that woman,” Tamika nearly shouted at me over a siren wailing from a patrol car that had stopped to arrest some man a few feet away from the community center. Right across the street was an older park that still attracted people and daily dealings the new Brooklyn pioneers preferred not to see.

“She is crazy and delusional.”

“I wasn't entertaining her,” I said, watching the cop load the man into the back of his squad car. “She just came over.”

“Notice she never comes to talk to me if you or Lee aren't there,” Tamika said.

“That's because you're crazy,” Leah pointed out.

Miles laughed, and Tamika looked at him as the cop car drove off.

“What you laughing about? You're in grown folks' business?” Tamika sounded like our grandmother. “Don't play with me. I'll knock your teeth out, boy.”

We laughed because Tamika was clearly joking. As hard as she was, she could never bring herself to lay a hand on Miles.

“Yeah, you can laugh now, but we'll see later,” she said, laughing at her attempt to sound threatening. “Now thank your godmother for coming all the way out here to Brooklyn to see your match.” She pushed him toward me.

“Thank you, Cousin Kim,” he said with his braces shining on me. He was so tall and lanky, but in his face was a baby boy our entire family raised.

“No problem, precious,” I said. “I'll see you next time. And I'll be on time.”

Tamika told Miles to walk ahead and turned to me again.

“Now, Attorney Kind, when do I get to see you again?”

“What do you mean? Just let me know when the next match is.”

“You know what I mean. You need to get out. Why don't you come to Wind Down Wednesday with me and my girls this week?”

“You know I don't have time. And your friends are crazy. All they talk about is men and sex. Am I right or wrong, Lee?” I looked at Leah.

“I'm not in it. You know I don't hang with any of them,” Leah said, excusing herself from the conversation.

“Well, what else is there to talk about?” Tamika joked.

“Anything. Politics. Social issues. Hair. Celebrity gossip,” I listed. “I don't know.”

Tamika closed her eyes and pretended she was asleep. After snoring a bit, she opened her eyes and looked surprised I was standing there.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I just fell asleep while you were talking.”

“Look, I'll try to come, but I am not participating in some all-night dishing session about horrible dates and great sex. It's pointless.”

“It's what you need,” Tamika said, grinning at Leah.

“What is that for?” I asked.

Once again Leah pulled her sister's arm.

“On that note, we're out of here,” Leah said, laughing, making Tamika follow her away from me.

“No, really, tell me,” I said.

“I'll tell you on Wednesday,” Tamika said as she waved good-bye and blew me kisses. “You better come. And you better not be late. We'll be at Damaged Goods. The old spot right around the corner from here.”

Chapter 3

I
got to work late the next day. My cell phone alarm went off at 6 a.m. as regularly scheduled, but I slept right through it and woke up after 10, when I rolled off the couch and hit the side of my head on one of the claw-feet on my coffee table. The alarm was blaring then, and I had, like, six urgent text messages and voice mails from my assistant, Carol.

But all of Carol's messages were urgent, so I didn't even bother with them. I'd just won a big case the week before, and I was determined to take it slow this week. I ran myself into the ground during my first years working in the DA's office, but lately I'd been feeling run-down and even considering leaving prosecution altogether. Anyway, I knew Carol had to have been texting and calling about a witness I was supposed to interview an hour before I woke up. She'd probably had to reschedule him and needed to confirm a time with me that she'd eventually pick on her own. I had to keep telling her that half of being a good assistant was thinking on her feet. And to stop calling me about every little thing every day. But she was new and young and scared by the slightest sign of trouble.

The side of my head was hurting from the bump on the table, so I had to squint my left eye to lessen the pain, and on my way to the bathroom I almost knocked the bottle of wine I'd been drinking off the coffee table.

In the mirror, I squinted to see if the claw-foot had left a mark on the side of my eye like it had before, but there was nothing I could see there yet. Still, the pain was sharp and ringing in my ear, so I could hardly get dressed and out the door as quickly as I needed to.

While I normally used the long walk from my apartment in Tribeca to the DA's office as my form of morning exercise and meditation, the thumping in my head led me to a cab, where I sat in the backseat trying to remember how I'd ended up on the couch the night before. Listening to the cabbie sing along to “Gangnam Style,” I remembered lying in bed and trying to figure out why Tamika was laughing at me when Leah was pulling her away after Miles's fencing match. My back had started hurting, and I recalled looking at the clock on the side of my bed and thinking it was still early—definitely before midnight. I got out of bed and found my painkillers in the bathroom. I took two after counting out the hours since my last dose. I went back to the bedroom and lay down, praying the pain shooting up my back would go away and I'd find my sleep. But I didn't. I just lay there hearing Tamika laughing and repeating, “It's what you need . . .  ​It's what you need . . .  ​It's what you need . . .  ,” and looking down at my waist. I remembered looking at the clock beside my bed again. It was after 2 a.m. and I was wide awake. I decided to get up and walk around the apartment, thinking it would make me tired. I stopped in the kitchen and looked at the fridge. Maybe a sandwich would work. Turkey? Milk? A little tryptophan. I needed to sleep. The interview was in the morning. He was already a skittish witness. On the fence. I had to be on point. I opened the refrigerator, and there was no milk or turkey. Just the wine. A half-empty bottle of Riesling with no top. I grabbed it and went to the cabinet to get a glass, but they were all in the sink. I needed a dishwasher, I reminded myself. My next place had to have a dishwasher. That and a washer and dryer. Those were the things I hated about living in New York City—dirty dishes to wash and laundry to schlep up and down flights of stairs. I remembered placing the bottle on the table and sitting on the couch. I looked at the bottle across from me, and I saw Kim 2 swimming around inside. Thin. In a bikini. I knew I was tired then. I blinked, but there she was. Still swimming and smiling. Then I heard her: “You didn't have a ring. He never even asked you.” She laughed, and then there was Tamika back at Miles's match, laughing and waving good-bye.