Insatiable (26 page)

T
humping head-splitting racket poured from the living room jolting Kai into a state of confused wakefulness. It sounded like someone had set off a series of explosives; her bed seemed to quake. Next, she heard a rough urban voice, hollering at the top of his lungs. She was able to make out a few words:
nigga…muthafuckers…pistol…murder…ain’t scared to die.

“Marquise,” she screamed over the pandemonium. Wearing boxer shorts, Marquise appeared in the bedroom within seconds.

“What’s wrong?” His voice cracked with concern.

“What the hell is going on out there?” she demanded though she’d figured out that the unrelenting noise that emanated from her living room was that vulgar rap music Marquise listened to. “It’s six o’clock in the morning. Why are you blasting that heathen music at this hour?” Kai brushed past Marquise, and headed determinedly toward the stereo system.

“Heathen music? Why you all bent outta shape? I always listen to my sounds when I git ready for work. What’s wrong wit that?” he asked calmly as he trailed her into the living room. There was no hostility in his tone. Kai figured he was controlling his temper and being a good boy because he wanted that new truck.

“The volume’s turned sky-high. Damn! Are you trying to give me a migraine before my day gets started?” Kai asked irritably.

Marquise was quiet; he was unusually passive, which emboldened Kai even further. Using an index finger, she stabbed the power button and instantly silenced the rap moron who was ranting about splitting some nigga’s head.
Jeeze!

“Yo, how you gonna come out here and just cut my shit off like that?” Marquise frowned, but made an effort to keep the bass out of his voice.

Noticing Marquise’s work uniform draped over the ironing board, which he had taken the liberty to set up in the living room, Kai scowled. She turned the power back on, hit the button to slide open the door, took out the obviously bootlegged CD and handed it to Marquise. “I can cut off your shit because you’re playing it on
my
shit?” She shut off the power again.

A look of rage covered Marquise’s face as he swiftly and threateningly made a step toward Kai.

Instantly regretting mouthing off, Kai wondered if she should run.

He approached and stooped to come down to her height. His face was unnecessarily close to Kai’s face. “Yo, I don’t need you or nothin’ you got,” Marquise said through clenched teeth. It was frightening the way the veins in his neck stood out. Kai shrank back “I got my own shit at my crib,” he continued. “You wanted me here—well, I’m here, but that don’t mean I’m gonna let you talk to me all greasy like that. What, you think I’m sweet or somethin’?”

He swung around and paced over to the ironing board. He snatched the pants off the ironing board and stepped into them. Grumbling to himself, he began to iron his shirt vigorously. “You think I’m sweet?” he asked, looking up with blazing eyes fixed on Kai’s face.

Kai was speechless. Marquise was practically foaming at the mouth. He looked dangerous—like a rabid beast and she wanted him out of her home—this instant!

She swallowed and mentally searched for words that would gently but firmly express her urgent need for him to get the hell out!

“Marquise,” she said, now trailing him as he stomped to the bedroom. She cleared her throat and carefully chose her words. “Our cultural differences are more glaring than we both realized and…um…perhaps we should reconsider our decision…uh…maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for you to move in.” There! She’d said it. Now if she could click her heels and make that sonofabitch disappear forever, her world would be complete.

“Get out?” he bellowed as he advanced, his big hand outstretched. “You took everything from me…my home, my girl, my daughter…everything. Now you tellin’ me to git the fuck out? You think I’m gonna let you chump me like that.” Marquise’s eyes scared her. He looked insane, like someone beyond reasoning. Looking possessed, he gripped her by the chin and pushed her head backward. “I should bash your fuckin’ head through the wall.” Then, apparently having a better idea, his hand slipped to her thin neck. She felt herself being lifted from the floor, her legs dangled and then kicked comically. Embarrassment replaced fear as it occurred to her that she’d never imagined her life ending in such a humiliating and ridiculous manner.

With one abnormally large hand, Marquise threw her on top of the bed and pounced upon her. In the brief moment before the choking resumed, she managed to sputter an apology. “I’m sorry. Please, Marquise. I didn’t mean it. Please don’t do this.”

“Fuckin’ bitch!” he spat as he straddled her and clamped both hands around her neck. “You think I’m a joke? Who the fuck you think you playin’ wit?” Pure hatred shone in his eyes.

She twisted and squirmed helplessly. Marquise was too heavy to overthrow. “I’m sorry. Please stop,” she pleaded as she gasped for breath, her face contorted into a mask of fear. Suddenly the tiny muscles in her face began to relax; she struggled to control a smile that played at the corners of her mouth for she realized that her squirming and writhing against his crotch had inadvertently stimulated him. His dick was hard!

He looked down at her. Although his face was etched in fury, his lust-filled eyes assured her safety. She peeled away each finger and removed his hands from her neck. She kissed his right hand—flicked her tongue against his palm and between his fingers. Feeling him weakening, she grew bolder and slipped a hand beneath his tee shirt and lightly encircled his nipples with the tip of her finger.

Aroused, Marquise pulled Kai up on her knees and mounted her from behind. He emitted the growl of a tortured beast before plunging inside her and once again submitting to her will.

“Girl, when you gonna get off suspension?” Melanie asked over the phone.

“I’m not sure; I have a meeting with my union rep next week,” Terelle said.

“You need to be here ’cause the nursing home is buzzin’ today. Everybody’s talking about Marquise and that light-skinned social worker,” Melanie excitedly informed Terelle.

Filled with a sense of dread, Terelle asked hoarsely, “The social worker on the fourth floor?”

“Uh-huh. That’s the one. Kai Montgomery. I heard she got a lotta cheddar and she’s been buying Marquise all kinds of shit.”

The room began to whirl. Feeling hot, flushed, and lightheaded all at once, Terelle reached for a glass of water on the nightstand.

“Dig this,” Melanie continued with an upbeat tone that would have been appropriate had she been giving Terelle good news. “Didn’t nobody even know you and Marquise had broke up ’til this morning when somebody peeped him getting outta her Benz. She must have some kinda pull at the nursing home ’cause she wheeled into one of those parking spaces reserved for doctors only.”

Terelle was rendered speechless. Melanie, however, paying no attention to Terelle’s stunned silence, continued the verbal assault. “Chile, the way she be tryin’ to act like she all that, you’d think she’d try to hide the fact that she messin’ wit a nigga who works in Housekeepin’. Word is…” Melanie paused and made an annoying smacking sound—a prelude to revealing the juiciest part of the story. “Chile…I heard that conceited hussy leaned over and kissed Marquise—gave the nigga tongue all down his throat before they got outta the car this morning. Now ain’t that some shit? They wasn’t even tryin’ to keep it on the low—they was wide open for all eyes to see.”

Melanie’s words had the impact of a rain of gunfire aimed at Terelle’s heart. Before the bearer of such life-changing, earth-shattering, god-awful bad news could fire off another round, Terelle interrupted. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” She clicked the off button before Melanie could utter another word.
Kill the messenger
was truly in order. If Terelle had a weapon and if Melanie were within shooting range, the bitch would be dead.

As if struck by a venomous creature apt to strike again, Terelle flung the phone across the room. Trembling hands covered her mouth as a low moan of agony escaped her lips.
“Oh my God, oh my God…what am I going to do?”
she whimpered.

The thought of Marquise kissing that social worker was beyond her imagination. He didn’t even like skinny women and he definitely didn’t like high-yella bitches! Or, so he’d always said.

Terelle had an instant flashback to Kai’s stricken expression when she’d spotted Terelle and Marquise together on the fourth floor. She recalled asking Marquise what was up with the chick. He’d pretended not to know.

It all made sense now: the Benz, the expensive watch, and that butt-ass naked picture.
They played me!
Terelle admitted mournfully.
Marquise and that skinny, half-white lookin’ bitch played me!

It was more than Terelle could bear. Marquise was supposed to protect her—shelter her from the cold—be her strength when she felt weak—her safe haven when the world was unkind. He’d promised all that and so much more in his letters from jail. But the promises had been empty—meaningless.
Jailhouse promises
, just as Saleema had said.

She couldn’t compete with someone as pretty, polished, and prosperous as Kai. Tears stung her eyes and for one terrible moment, she thought about dying.
Death has to be better than this
, she thought as she sank to her knees in despair.

But mercifully, a sudden cold fury replaced the agony of Marquise’s betrayal. She wouldn’t just roll over and accept the foul deed that had been done to her. She needed some sort of satisfaction—she needed to retaliate. Ah! She was filled with a visceral satisfaction at the thought of revenge.

Terelle got to her feet, wiped her tears and smiled. Kai Montgomery was a rich bitch who thought she could have anything she wanted. Well, Terelle would be damned if she was going to let that high-class smut get away with stealing her man. Kai Montgomery was going to pay dearly for her crime.

With a wry smile, she imagined taking a knife to Kai’s face. The best plastic surgeon in the world would be in a quandary as to how to piece together that bitch’s mutilated mug after Terelle got through with her.

I
n battle mode and dressed appropriately, Terelle wore scruffy sweats and sneakers. Saleema, casually chic in a bronze Italian-knit sweater, a dark-chocolate leather fur-lined vest with a Gucci scarf draped around her neck, hardly looked ready to assist in the ass whoopin’ Terelle intended to inflict upon Kai.

Hidden from view on a tiny street behind Girard College, they’d been sitting in Saleema’s truck for what seemed like an eternity as they waited for Kai and Marquise to leave the nursing home.

“Who’s watching Keeta?” Saleema asked idly.

“Aunt Bennie and her friend.”

“Damn, Terelle. Why you leave my godbaby with those dykes? Ain’t no tellin’ what they might do…”

“Why are you so negative? Aunt Bennie loves Keeta; she wouldn’t hurt her.” Terelle rolled her eyes at Saleema.

“I’m just sayin’…you said you can’t stand to see them kissin’ and carryin’ on. You said it seems disrespectful. So…if they do that shit right in front of you, whatchu think they’ll do in front of Keeta? She can’t
tell
you what they’re doing around her, but she can damn sure
show
you. When she start stickin’ her face between her doll baby’s legs, you’re gonna be sorry you left her with those dykes. I ain’t tryin’ to be smart or nothin’ but I ain’t tryin’ to be the godmother to a little bulldyke.”

Though it had bothered Terelle that Aunt Bennie and her friend were so touchy-feely in public, she had other pressing issues on her mind.

“Is that the car?” Saleema turned around and pointed to a black Benz pulling out of the nursing home parking lot. It stopped for a red light at Girard and Corinthian Avenue. Saleema revved the engine and quickly caught up with the Benz when it turned onto Broad Street.

Rush hour on Broad Street was crazy. Wheeling Jezebel, Saleema darted from lane to lane as she determinedly kept up with the speeding Benz.

Terelle leaned forward anxiously in the passenger seat. Her radar-like eyes frantically tracked the movement of the Benz. She rocked back and forth as if that movement would help Jezebel to pick up speed.

“Step on it, Saleema; why are you driving like somebody’s grandmother?”

“Chill! I got this,” Saleema snapped. “You’re lucky I got driving skills ’cause this ain’t as easy as it looks on TV.”

“Hurry up!” Terelle shrieked when she saw the Benz speed through a yellow light. Before Saleema could catch up, a blue Ford Taurus darted in front of her and zipped through the yellow light. The light turned red; Saleema slammed on the brakes.

Grim-faced, Terelle watched as the Benz whizzed in and out of lanes and then disappeared from view. “Damn, we lost ’em. Why didn’t you broady that little Ford and take the light?” Distraught, Terelle slumped in her seat.

“I wasn’t letting Jezzie get all banged up by that raggedy-ass Ford. Calm down, Terelle! I’m not gonna let you drive me crazy. Your no-driving ass should be concentratin’ on how you’re gonna deal with that bitch instead of tryin’ to play copilot,” Saleema said with laughter, trying to lessen the tension inside the SUV.

Instead of offering a reciprocal smile, Terelle maintained a fretful expression and massaged her temples anxiously.

“Lighten up, girl. Jezebel’s on the case.” Saleema patted the steering wheel affectionately. “I got this!” Despite Saleema’s reassuring words, Terelle, unable to relax, leaned forward again; her eyes worriedly searched for a glimpse of the Benz.

“We gotta stay in the cut; we can’t be all up on them.”

“I think we lost ’em,” Terelle said, doubling over as if in pain; her head nearly touched her lap.

“There they go,” Saleema shouted, pointing. “They’re turning on Vine Street.” Saleema swerved into the left lane.

Terelle jerked upright; sparks of excitement glinted in her eyes. “Stay on ’em,” she commanded.

They rode in silence as Saleema, wearing an intense expression, trailed Marquise and Kai down Vine Street.

The Benz switched lanes. “Where the hell are they going?” Saleema wondered aloud.

“Looks like they’re heading for Penn’s Landing.”

The bumper-to-bumper traffic on Columbus Boulevard slowed the Benz; the traffic came to a complete standstill. Saleema relaxed and turned to Terelle. “Okay, so what’s the plan? Are we gonna roll on that skank when she gets outta the ride or what?”

“No, I wanna ask her and Marquise some questions first.”

“Hello!” Saleema said sarcastically. “Am I hearing you right?” Saleema stared at Terelle. “You wanna ask some questions? Let me find out we done sat outside that old people’s home for hours…actin’ like we 5-0 doin’ surveillance just so you can ask some damn questions!”

“No, it’s not like that. Trust me…I got something for that high-class hoe.”

“Aw, that shit you talkin’ is weak.” Totally irritated, Saleema sucked her teeth. “I didn’t come out here and risk getting Jezebel all scratched and scraped so you could play detective. The evidence is right before your eyes, what else you need to know? Let me find out you got me zoomin’ all over Philly, chasing those two assholes for nothing. The minute we catch up with that bitch, you better go up in her mouth. Ask questions later.”

Terelle exhaled. “Like I said, it ain’t like that.” Terelle unconsciously rubbed the area of her finger where her engagement ring should have been. “I just want to know if she knew…” Terelle’s voice cracked; moisture filled her eyes. She thought about all the suffering and sacrificing she had done to create the nest she, Marquise and Markeeta called home. She thought about all the pulling, tugging, and encouragement it took to get Marquise to finally straighten up and become a family man. “What kind of woman would destroy a family…I mean…do you think she knew we were gonna get married?”

Saleema’s head snapped in Terelle’s direction. “Damn right, she knew you were getting married. Why do you think she sent you that picture? Sis made sure she put the brakes on your wedding plans.”

The simmering flame inside Terelle quickly blazed into a raging fire. “That snotty social worker ain’t stoppin’ shit!” Terelle said with a sneer. She dug inside her coat pocket and pulled out a ten-inch blade. “I got Quise’s shank and I’m trying to decide whether I should gut that bitch or carve my initials all over her face.” Terelle’s eyes took on a deadliness that made Saleema recoil.

“Look!” Saleema exclaimed suddenly. “They’re turnin’ into the garage at Dave & Buster’s. Should I follow ’em?”

Terelle narrowed her eyes in thought, but didn’t answer.

“Hurry up! Whatchu want me to do?”

“Wait a minute; I’m trying to think.” Trying to make a quick decision, Terelle frantically rubbed her temples. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “Okay, get in the turning lane and park over there—across the street—in the cut.” She pointed, indicating a narrow street off Columbus Boulevard. “I don’t want them to see your truck,” she explained. “We’re gonna have to try and sneak inside the garage on foot.”

A few minutes later, the two women ran across the busy boulevard and slipped past the female parking attendant who had come outside her booth to shoot the breeze with a maintenance man holding an industrial-sized push broom.

Terelle gripped the smooth handle of the knife as her blazing eyes searched for Kai’s car.

Though the underground garage was not sufficiently illuminated, she quickly spotted the Benz. “Damn! We missed ’em,” Terelle moaned as they approached the empty black car. Her heart sank as she peered inside and viewed the familiar interior. As she’d suspected, it was the same car Marquise claimed to have borrowed from his anonymous Jamaican business partner. She now knew with certainty that Marquise had been creeping with Kai—right under her nose. All those weekends he said he’d spent with the Jamaicans were actually spent with Kai.

Terelle shook her head sadly. What a fool she’d been. The drastic change in his routine should have been the first warning sign.

“What should we do?” Saleema asked, breaking into Terelle’s thoughts.

Terelle gave a heavy sigh. “I guess we’ll have to wait it out.”

“You must be crazy! I’m not waitin’ out shit. You expect me to freeze my ass off like a nut while Quise and that bitch are all warm and toasty playing video games inside Dave & Buster’s?” Saleema gathered her fur-lined leather vest tightly around herself. “Come on, Terelle. We’re out—you’re gonna have to deal with this some other time.”

If Terelle had it her way, she and Saleema would stake out the garage until the next day if necessary. However, weary from the chase and all the drama leading to this anticlimactic showdown, Terelle didn’t have the strength it would take to convince Saleema to stay.

“All right; come on, let’s go,” Terelle said, looking miserable and sounding as if she were about to cry. She buttoned her coat, turned up her collar and cast a pained gaze at the black Benz.