Two Thin Dimes (12 page)

“It's okay. It's okay,” Tameer whispered. He leaned down and kissed Dawshanique on her forehead. He could taste her sweetness on his lips, he could smell her familiarity. It felt good having her in his arms again.

“Oh, Tameer…,” she cried out again.

Tameer swallowed hard, and cleared his throat. “Dawshanique, hold on for a minute.” He sniffled. “I need to get something.”

Slowly, she pulled away from him and nodded. Dawshanique lifted her hands to her face, and wiped away her tears.
Bring the keys with you, sucker
, she didn't say out loud. She sniffled several times.

Tameer stepped back inside of the apartment, locked the door, and placed the chain across it. Slowly, he sauntered across the floor of the apartment, and sat back down on his living room couch, where he lifted the remote for the television. He was tired. His fatigue made him yawn.

Propping his feet up onto the coffee table, he channel-surfed leisurely, until finding something of interest to watch.

Outside, Dawshanique, who had heard the lock and the chain, began knocking.

“Tameer. Tameer. Tameer!” She began pounding on the door forcefully. “Tameer! Tameer, open up the door! It's not funny! Tameer, it's cold out here! Tameer! Tameer! Tameeeeeer!”

“Jai, I can't believe you wanted to come here,” Tameer told her, as he climbed inside of the roller coaster.

“It's off season, it's not crowded, and it's fun!” Jamaica replied.

“Fun?”

“You're scared, admit it.”

“I'm not scared. This is like any other roller coaster, except that it's wooden which means that it's susceptible to termites…and rot…and it could collapse on us.”

Jamaica pointed at Tameer and laughed. “I knew it! You're scared.”

“I don't like heights.”

Jamaica slapped Tameer across his shoulder. “You big baby!” She buckled her restraints, and then turned back toward him “Don't worry, I'll protect you.”

Tameer could only smile as the roller coaster lurched forward. “You'll protect me as we both plunge to our deaths. Wonderful!”

“So did you enjoy yourself at the amusement park?” Jamaica asked. She snatched the car keys from Tameer's hand.

“Of course I did!” he lied.

Jamaica pressed the button on Tameer's key fob, disarming the car's alarm system. “Are you sure? You looked a little sick after we got off the roller coaster.”

Tameer smiled through clenched teeth. “Oh yeah, which time?”

Jamaica laughed. “All of them.”

When they approached Tameer's vehicle, Jamaica raced to the driver's side.

“You know that I'm driving, don't you?” Jamaica asked. She lifted her gloved hands, and tucked a fallen strand of hair back beneath her thick, multi-colored bini.

Tameer smiled. He wrapped his arms around Jamaica and pressed his body against hers. He leaned forward and kissed her on her cheek.

Jamaica smiled and rested her head gently upon his chest. “What did I tell you about that?”

“About what?”

“Don't start anything that you can't finish,” she said softly.

Tameer engulfed her earlobe, and slowly made his way down her neck. The warmth of his tongue made her close her eyes and moan. Tameer stepped away from Jamaica and laughed.

“Okay.” Jamaica nodded. “Okay, so you want to play?”

Tameer stepped forward again, and placed his arms on her shoulders. “You know I'm just messing with you.”

Jamaica extended her palm to his face. “I'm not trying to hear it.”

Jamaica turned away from Tameer and opened the driver's side door. Still smiling, Tameer quickly made his way to the other side of the vehicle and opened the door. Jamaica called to him over the top of the vehicle.

“Tameer, have you heard that song by Bobby Womack?”

“What song?”

Jamaica began singing.
If you think you're lonely now, wait until tonight, baby.
Jamaica threw her head back in laughter, and slid into the driver's seat.

Tameer slid into the passenger seat and clasped her hand. “Relax, baby, it was just jokes.”

Jamaica continued singing the song, while buckling her seatbelt and starting up the vehicle. She turned to Tameer and smiled. “Babe, you better buckle up.”

The tires screeched.

“So why do you insist on seeing where I live?” Tameer asked for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Jamaica turned another corner and exhaled forcibly. She was clearly growing more and more frustrated with Tameer's obstinacy. “Tameer, you may as well tell me which apartment is yours, or we'll be circling this place all night.”

Jamaica was determined.

Tameer understood Jamaica's determination. In fact, he had come to appreciate it. The worst was now over, he had convinced himself. And the fact that she was already in the neighborhood, alleviated some of his concern. He finally relented.

“Stop right here,” he told her.

Jamaica slammed her foot onto the brake pedal, sending the car into a screeching halt. Tameer shook his head and smiled at her.

“Not right here.” He pointed. “I meant up there. The next building.”

Jamaica parked the car in front of Tameer's building, and together they exited the vehicle. Tameer uttered several quick, silent prayers under his breath, hoping that his father would not be home. He didn't need the drama, especially in front of Jamaica. Tameer's second prayer was that even if his father wasn't home right now, he hoped that he'd not been there earlier and trashed the place. Broken beer bottles and piss in the corner of the living room, would not make a good first impression. He sighed, and hesitantly searched his key ring for the proper key.

Jamaica clapped her hands together under the guise of warming them from the evening cold, although it really had been done out of nervous anticipation. She wanted to know more about Tameer. She wanted to know everything about Tameer. Jamaica turned away from the front door and examined her surrounding. She wanted to take it all in, but the darkness that cloaked the housing project of that starless evening revealed little.

The air was cold, crisp. It caused their breaths to crystallize in the moist night air and mimic the puffiness of cigar smoke. Finally, Tameer opened the door to his apartment, to his world. Jamaica could feel the warmth oozing from the apartment past her, and into the night air. She closed her eyes, counted to three, and then slowly turned around.

Tameer's father had not been home. The apartment was fairly decent, with the exception of the mess made by Savion and his basketball buddies who were gathered inside of the living room. Their presence made Jamaica adjust her bini, pulling it down almost to her eyes. She wrapped the scarf around her neck twice more, covering the lower half of her face. She wasn't taking any chances. Savion spoke first.

“What's up, T?” Savion asked, greeting his brother.

Tameer pulled off his jacket. “Hey, what's up, y'all?”

“What's up, Jai?” Savion asked.

Jamaica waved. “Hey, what's up?”

Jamaica turned, and began to examine her surroundings. She had never been inside of a place such as this. She wanted to take it all in. Surprisingly, it didn't look that bad to her. In fact, she thought, it only needed a little straightening, perhaps some new furnishings, but overall, it was habitable.

Jamaica casually strolled across the room to the far wall, the one farthest away from the door, and examined the photographs that hung haphazardly on it. They had not been attended to for some time, and were crooked, old, abandoned, almost as if they had been of another family. Tameer was younger, when they were taken. His large, out-of-style afro told her that much. The photo of him sporting a large Jheri Curl made her snicker. She knew that the older woman in the picture had to be his mother, and the man in the picture, his father. He resembled them both. Again, she laughed, because initially, it had not been a good mixture. Tameer had been homely as a child.

The bounce of the basketball startled her.

“Vonnie, don't you go anywhere without that basketball?” Tameer asked.

“Nope,” Vonnie answered matter-of-factly. “I'm trying to get as good as you.”

Vonnie was tall, thin, young. He sat on the couch lost inside of a large down-filled parka, with his face buried beneath his monstrous afro. A large, black, plastic hair pick hung defiantly out of his hair, seemingly determined not to get lost.

“Never!” Tameer replied. He held out his hands, waiting for Vonnie to toss him the basketball.

Vonnie tossed it. “As a matter of fact, I think I can out-hoop you now,” Vonnie told him. It was a challenge made with a smile.

Tameer caught the speeding ball. “Not in your wildest dreams, kid!” Tameer bounced the ball and passed it between his legs several times, displaying his skills.

Vonnie waved him off. “Tameer, you're a fossil already!”

Vonnie stretched out his long, spindly legs, placing them on the coffee table. “Me, I'm in my prime.”

Tameer turned to Jamaica. “That's Lil' Fade,” he said, startling her.

Jamaica wasn't aware that anyone had been paying attention to her. She had become entranced by the picture.

Lil' Fade's eyes were like sparkling blue diamonds, and his skin was grotesquely pale. His hair was long and curly, almost feminine, as were his facial features. But his eyes, his eyes were frightening. His eyes were cold, penetrating, unrelenting. His eyes made her shiver.

“The one on the left, that's my mom,” Tameer told her.

Jamaica nodded, examined the picture for several moments, and then turned to him. “She's beautiful.”

Tameer nodded. “I know.”

Jamaica turned and walked toward the kitchen. She wanted desperately to finish her examination of the house. She wanted to see, to discover, and deep down, to uncover. She wanted all of Tameer's secrets. Her mission was interrupted.

Jamaica screamed when Tameer sneaked up from behind and grabbed her. Easily, he lifted her from the ground, high into the air, and twirled her around.

“Ahhh! Tameer, stop!” Jamaica gripped his arms tightly. “Put me down!” she shouted in between her bursts of laughter.

Tameer laughed as well. He turned her through the air twice more, and then gently placed her back onto the ground. She instantly sat down on one of the metal folding chairs inside of the dining room. She refused to be lifted into the air again.

Jamaica kicked Tameer softly when he came close. “Boy, you better not do that again!”

“I won't.”

Tameer extended his hand to her and she took it. Gently, he lifted her from the chair and pulled her close. He wrapped his arms around Jamaica, stared into her eyes, and leaned forward to kiss her. Jamaica closed her eyes and leaned forward. Tameer quickly lifted her into the air again.

“Tameer!”

He twirled Jamaica again, and then sat her down on the cheap, metal, folding table and maneuvered himself in between her thighs. She slapped him on his shoulder.

“Okay, you're going to pay for that one.” She nodded. “The first one was free, but the second one, uh-un.”

Tameer placed his hands on Jamaica's tiny waist and kissed her neck. “Are you ready to go?”

Jamaica shook her head. “No, I'm staying here tonight.”

Tameer smacked his lips and rolled his eyes around the room. “Man, Jamaica, what are you trying to prove?”

Jamaica knew how to handle this one. She was learning how to work Tameer. She folded her arms and pouted.

“I want to stay with you.”

Tameer's hands flew to his face and he rubbed his eyes. His mind raced, as he thought about the current situation in the Courts. Who were these guys into it with, and would there be any gunfire tonight? Drive-bys had been on the decline lately, and he really couldn't think of any group in particular that the Courts was at war with.

Tameer knew that he couldn't allow Jamaica to get hurt, he knew that he had to protect her. For the first time in a long time, he had someone who trusted him, someone who really believed in him. He wasn't going to let her down. She would be safe here with him tonight.

Tameer opened his eyes and nodded. “Okay, Jamaica, you can stay.”

“Yes!” Her arms flew around his neck and she hugged him.

J
amaica awoke to the sound of a clanging, whining, screeching, rattling garbage truck, inhaling refuse from one of the neighborhood dumpsters. She yawned, stretched, and examined her surroundings. Tameer's room was fairly neat, if one was to discount the scattered, crumpled pieces of paper which orbited the cheap, plastic, white trash can that occupied the corner. The brick walls were painted in a thick, industrial white, while the floor was covered with a thin, cheap grade of commercial carpeting. It was not unlike the kind one would find inside of a bank branch, a school, or a hospital corridor. It was a far cry from the plush, almost cotton-like materials that graced the inner sanctums of where Jamaica had grown up and played. Nevertheless, it did its job, she thought, as she emerged from the comfort of the bed and ventured onto the floor.

Jamaica flounced her long, silky, but now disorderly, tresses over her shoulder, and stretched once again. It was with this stretch that the realization of her nakedness came. A quick turn of her head reassured her that Tameer was in fact gone, and that she was alone.

Again relaxing, she strode over to the full-length mirror on the wall opposite the bed, and smiling, she examined her flawlessness.

Jamaica's stomach was flat and tight, her breasts were round and perky, and her teeth were as pearly as ever. Clearly, she liked what she saw. Her frame was chiseled, yet petite and feminine. She had lost some weight in the preceding months, as a result of her hectic schedule. In fact, she had lost enough weight for her to be concerned about her shapely figure. Quickly, she turned to the side and glanced down. Yes! She still had plenty back there, she told herself.

Her personal trainer, the balanced diets, and the years of strict, self-willed discipline had paid off. She was perfect. Or rather yet, still perfect, she corrected. Jamaica rubbed her silky-smooth, caramel skin, and again turned to her side. Thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-eight. Perfect! Perfect! Perfect! Perfect!

A childlike smile appeared, followed by another rapid glance around the room to reassure herself that she was in fact alone. After this quick confirmation, she began a dance routine. Flouncing, jumping, spinning, and singing, Jamaica unwound. She jumped onto Tameer's bed and continued her unbridled, liberating performance, until finally, she was startled by a knock at the door. Jamaica's eyes flew wide, and she dove beneath the covers. A second knock came.

“Jamaica?” the voice on the other side of the door called out to her. It was Savion.

Now even more embarrassed, Jamaica cleared her throat and peered out from beneath the bed linen. “Yes?”

Savion slowly pushed open the door to the bedroom. “T said to tell you that he had to go in early, but he left some money for you to get something to eat.”

“Tameer's gone?” she asked in disbelief.

Savion nodded. “Yeah.”

“How am I supposed to get back to my room?”

Savion smiled. “He left some bus money for you in case you had to leave. But, he told me to tell you that he would like for you to wait for him here.”

Jamaica's hands flew through the air. “Just where am I supposed to get something to eat, and how am I supposed to get there?”

Another smile. “I'm going to walk with you.”

Jamaica's mouth fell slightly open. “Walk?”
I have a Lamborghini, two Ferraris, a Bentley, an Aston Martin, a Rolls, and a Porsche, and I'm supposed to walk? The boy was crazy!

Savion could see that Jamaica was growing upset. “It's not far.”

Jamaica placed her hand on her forehead and exhaled forcibly. “Savion, I'll be downstairs in a minute. I'm going to shower first.”

Savion nodded, and began to close the door.

“Hey!” Jamaica shouted. She pointed to a garment lying on a chair next to the door. “Toss me that shirt before you go, please.”

The smile on Savion's face slowly disappeared, as he grabbed the shirt and tossed it to her. He had been hoping to see her dance around the room naked again. Disappointed, he closed the door, and settled for watching Jamaica get dressed through a peephole next to the door.

When Jamaica finally appeared downstairs, Savion was still cleaning up the residuals from the previous night's excesses. The festive gatherings had become a nightly ritual, since he and his friends had been out of school for the Christmas holiday break.

Jamaica was dressed mostly in Tameer's clothing, as she had not brought along a change of clothing for herself. She exhaled and plopped down forcefully upon the tattered, brown, living room couch.

“So, what's up, Jai?” Savion asked while picking up pieces of popcorn from off the floor.

“Nothing, just bored.” She blew loose strands of hair from her face.

After several moments of watching Savion work, Jamaica rose from the couch, dropped to one knee, and began gathering fallen popcorn kernels. Savion moved in close and nudged her.

“How can you be bored?” he asked. “You're with the Save-ster!”

Jamaica laughed. “Ohhh, really? And is the Save-ster going to entertain me with one of his rap performances from last night?”

“I may.” Savion smiled.
Especially if you get naked and dance for me again
, he didn't say out loud.

“Do you have one of those straw brush thingys?” Jamaica asked. “You know, this would go a lot faster if you could brush this stuff away.”

“Good idea!” Savion disappeared momentarily, and returned with a broom. Triumphantly, he held it up in the air. “I have found the straw brush thingy to sweep with.”

Jamaica turned and looked for something to sweep the popcorn onto. Spying a folder on the end of the coffee table, she lifted it, accidentally spilling its contents.

“Dang!” she cursed, kneeling down and gathering the fallen papers. “I'm making a bigger mess than the one we're trying to clean.”

While kneeling and gathering the papers, Jamaica glanced at the contents of several of the loose sheets of paper. Reading them, she rose slowly.

“This…this is good.” She turned toward Savion. “Your brother's?”

Savion nodded. “Yeah, that's probably some of his older stuff. He keeps the new stuff in his room.”

“Why hasn't he published this?” she asked, raking her hand through her hair, sending it back over her shoulder. “I mean…it's really good.”

Savion shrugged. “You know how T is.”

Jamaica nodded and continued to read.

Savion swept the popcorn into a pile, and then swept the pile toward the door. Jamaica extended her arm and waved her hand around to get Savion's attention.

“Savion, go and get me the rest of Tameer's poetry.” She peered up at him. “Is there a copying machine around here?”

Savion nodded. “Yeah, it's on the way to where I'm going to take you to eat.”

“And where is that?” Jamaica inquired.

“Slim's Smokehouse. The best barbecue in the entire world.”

“Well, I guess we'll be eating barbecue and reading poetry today,” she told him with a smile.

“Jai, what's on your mind?” Savion asked. He shifted his weight to one side and waited for her answer. Savion loved to be part of a plot. Any plot.

Jamaica tapped the pages of poetry that she held in her hand. “I'm going to send your brother's poetry to a friend of mine. There's this big poetry contest in New York every year, and the winner gets twenty thousand dollars and a publishing contract.” She peered up at Savion. “Your brother can win.”

Savion shrugged. “Good. I'll get his poetry journal, you finish sweeping.”

“Savion!”

Savion extended his arm, handing her the broom. The two of them stood staring silently at each other for several moments before Jamaica finally snatched the broom from him and frowned.

“I see stubbornness runs in the family!” Jamaica fumed.

Savion smiled, winked, and then bounded up the stairs to retrieve the poetry journal. Jamaica set the pages of poetry down upon a nearby table, and then began using the straw brush thingy. Using one hand she raked and struggled with the broom until she was finally able to gather all of the popcorn by the door. She cursed the entire time.

Opening the door, Jamaica was surprised by the presence of a stranger about to knock. It was Dawshanique.

“Yes, I'm looking for Savion,” Dawshanique announced, while placing her hand on her hip. “Well, actually, I'm looking for Tameer, but I see that his car is gone, so, is Savion here?”

Jamaica nodded. “Yes, he ran upstairs to grab something.”

Jamaica turned toward the stairs, as Savion was coming back down. “Savion…”

Jamaica was interrupted by Dawshanique.

“Savion, you got a cute little girlfriend here,” Dawshanique shouted. “She even cleans up for you and everything. So, where is my baby at?”

Savion's mouth fell open in silence. Jamaica quickly spun back toward Dawshanique.

“I'm not Savion's girlfriend,” Jamaica told her.

Dawshanique waved Jamaica off. “Ooooh, girl, I'm sorry. I should have known you was a little too old. But, you never can tell these days.”

Dawshanique slung her micro braids over her shoulders. “My man sure has come up. New car, and now he's getting maid service!” Dawshanique snapped her fingers in the air. “You go, boy!”

Jamaica released the broom that she held in her hand, allowing it to fall to the ground. Her hand flew to her hip as she recoiled. “Baby, I'm not Tameer, nor anyone else's maid!”

Savion quickly maneuvered himself in between them. “Uh, Dawshanique, Tameer's at work right now. He'll be back later.”

Dawshanique veered around Savion, and came face-to-face with Jamaica.

“Oh, you must be…” Dawshanique smacked her lips. “You must be Tameer's little temporary play thing!”

Dawshanique's palm flew into the air, stopping just in front of Jamaica's face. “Well, Little Ms. Flavor of the Month, December's almost over, so you can start packing your shit. Momma's home!”

Jamaica shoved Savion to the side, and then knocked Dawshanique's hand away. She extended her finger into Dawshanique's face, while placing her other hand on her hip. “Well, momma, first off, I'm nobody's play thing. Second, you're standing on the outside looking in, and asking me where your supposed-to-be man is at! Third, I know where he is, and I damn sure knew where he was last night!”

Jamaica popped the collar on Tameer's oversized, button-down dress shirt. “Check the clothes, and smell the scent, because this is about the closest you'll ever get to Tameer again!”

“Bitch!” Dawshanique shouted, as she reached for Jamaica.

Savion jumped in the way.

“Bitch?” Jamaica shook her head. “Uh-un, let her go, Savion! Let her go!”

Dawshanique struggled to break free from Savion's grasp. “Bitch, if I catch you, you can give your heart to God, and your ass to me!”

Jamaica quickly exited the apartment. “Let her go, Savion!”

Jamaica tried to maneuver around Savion's imposing frame. Jamal, one of Savion's friends from last night's gathering, quickly raced from next door and grabbed Jamaica. Jamaica kicked and screamed.

“Uh-un, let me go! That bitch wants to fight me, and well…I got to give the people what they want!”

Vonnie quickly ran up into the yard. Together, he and Jamal were able to push Jamaica back inside of the apartment.

“You fake bitch!” Dawshanique shouted from the street. “You better stay away from my man!”

Jamaica clawed at the door sill, not wanting to enter all the way into the apartment. She was ready to fight. “Fake? Fake? Somebody please tell this heifer that synthetic braids and fake gold beads been out of style!”

The apartment door was closed.