Up to No Good (19 page)

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t prove anything. Maybe he’s really trying to get it together, you know, for his health. Black men have to worry about high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol—”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know my dad, ’cause he don’t worry about shit. His favorite exercise is sex.”

“Jamie!” Sandra looked shocked.

I was starting to wonder if the person sitting across from me was some kind of body double, because the Sandra I knew was never this uptight. Give the girl a little dick and all of a sudden she acts like a nun!

“I don’t know why you sitting there with your mouth all open. It’s the truth.”

“I’m just saying. That’s your father. Don’t talk about him like that. I’ve met the man. He ain’t that bad.”

“Okay, you’re right, but I’m mad at him right now,” I said with a pout. “Plus, I saw a motorcycle magazine at his house. A damn motorcycle magazine! Has he lost his mind? Now he’s thinking about buying a motorcycle.”

“I think motorcycles are sexy.”

“Yeah, it’s sexy with a man you would date, not my old-ass daddy.”

She took a sip of her drink. “He’s not that old, is he?”

“Sandra, he’s my dad. Of course he’s old. Ain’t your father old?”

Shit. I suddenly felt really bad when I saw the look on Sandra’s face. I forgot her father was dead. “I’m so sorry, Sandra. I forgot.”

She shrugged and stared down at the napkin in her lap.

“It’s just that these women come sniffing after my dad like his penis is the Holy Grail or some shit. He’s still doing Darnel’s mother, for God’s sake! That woman’s been after him for damn near thirty years now. Can’t she see that it’s just not happening?”

“They’re seeing each other?” She had a weird look on her face, but I figured it was because she was still upset about me mentioning her father.

“Not really seeing each other. It’s more like a booty-call thing. She’s married, but whenever she comes to town, they sleep together. It’s disgusting.”

Her eyebrows scrunched up and met in the middle of her forehead. She was wearing a huge frown. I knew how she felt, though. It was disgusting to think of my father and old-ass Crystal getting busy together.

I picked up the menu and glanced at it. “And now there’s some new ho try’na get into his life.”

“Maybe he wants to settle down,” Sandra suggested. “You ever think he’s tired of being alone?”

“Please. He ain’t never been alone. He’s got me and Darnel. Besides, I can’t tell you how many women have come through that place. He’s like a sex machine or something.”

“Well, maybe this time it’ll be different.”

“Doubtful. Whoever this new chick is, he’s gonna
be really into her for five minutes, and as soon as she tries to have a real relationship, he’ll kick her to the curb. It never fails.”

“Well, if you’re so sure that he’s gonna get rid of her eventually, then what are you worrying about?” Her tone was a little too snippy for me. She sure had some kinda problem today. I might not be having lunch with her again anytime soon. I thought she was my friend, not my damn social worker.

“What is so wrong with me watching my father’s back to keep all these gold diggers away from him?” I asked. “My father has a lot of money, Sandra.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean, you know? Don’t be counting my father’s money, Sandra.”

She laughed. “Stop trippin’, Jamie. I’ve been to his house with you, remember? You can’t be on welfare to own that.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I am trippin’. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, for starters, he’s a grown man, and he can take care of himself. He did right by you and raised you all by himself. Maybe it’s time you let him have a life of his own.”

“You sound like Louis.”

“Maybe Louis is right.”

“Please don’t talk to me about Louis.”

“Why? What’s going on with you and Louis?”

As much as I didn’t like airing my relationship troubles outside my family, I went ahead and did it this time. Daddy and Darnel had both been too preoccupied to talk to me lately, and Aunt Winnie hadn’t done anything but make matters worse by convincing me to search Louis’s house. Besides, Sandra looked as relieved
as I did to be changing the subject. For some reason, talking about my father seemed to have both of us worked up today.

“Let’s just say me and Louis are having some trust issues right about now.”

“You were doing fine last we talked.”

“Well, a lot can happen in a short period of time.”

“You got that right,” she said with another weird look on her face. Before I could even wonder what it meant, she asked, “So, what’s changed?”

“Louis is cheating on me. He has another family somewhere in Detroit.”

She sat back in her chair. “What! Does your father know about this? He’ll kill Louis.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him. But this chick, whoever she is, has Daddy’s nose wide open.” And we were right back at square one with our conversation. I was ready to get the check and bolt before I ’d even ordered my food. Between Louis and Daddy, I didn’t know who had me going through the motions more, but I sure as hell needed to regain control of the situation with both of them.

“Dammit!” I tried to turn my key, but it wouldn’t budge.

Apparently, Keisha had changed the locks. I knew we’d had a fight the last time I was there, but this made no sense. She didn’t mean what she’d said about moving on. She couldn’t have. Or could she? Either way, it didn’t matter, ’cause I was not about to let her end things this way. Not without me knowing the truth. Omar’s words outside the courthouse were eating me alive, and I had to get into this apartment and find that diary before the stress of not knowing killed me.

I wondered if Keisha had tried to take my name off the lease too. Even if she had, though, she couldn’t. I ’d already checked, and no one could remove another person’s name from the lease. So technically, I had the right to be in there—which is what I was prepared to tell the cops if they came around while I was trying to get in.

I went around the back to see if the windows were open. When I was living with her, Keisha was always forgetting to close and lock them. We’d had plenty of arguments about it. I was always reminding her how
unsafe it was. But now it made my day to see that she’d left them open once again.

I pulled down the fire escape and hoisted myself up onto the bars. One of the neighbors was peeking out her window and looked like she was about to say something.

“Hey, Ms. Williams.” I waved and gave her a big smile. “Forgot my key.”

Thankfully, she nodded and closed her blinds. For a second there, I thought I was gonna be busted before I even made it inside. I climbed up to the second-floor window and let myself in, feeling triumphant. Did Keisha really think something like changing the locks would stop me? No way. I was a man on a mission.

Once inside, I went straight for the bedroom closet, hoping to find the strongbox. Last time I was there, Keisha busted me before I could look inside the box, but I was pretty sure the diary would be in there, since I ’d searched just about everywhere else. I put in the combination, and voilà, the box opened! There was the diary that I just knew would hold the answers to all the questions that had been plaguing me.

Had I been smart about it, I would have stuffed the diary in my back pocket and left the apartment, but I couldn’t wait to open the book and read the truth.

I sat down on the bed, eager to read, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t hear the front door opening before I even cracked open the diary. All those justifications about being on the lease left my head as I searched for a hiding place. If Keisha entered the bedroom, she would catch me red-handed with her diary, and based on what she’d said to me last time I was here, there was a good chance she’d call the cops. I didn’t want to be no punk, but with the order of protection lifted not too long ago, I couldn’t take a risk. I slipped under the bed
with the diary still in my hand and my body drenched in sweat.

“Hey.” I heard her on her cell phone as she entered the bedroom. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let me throw on something cute and I’ll meet you there.”

I could see her kicking off her shoes and removing her clothes. Damn, even her calves looked sexy. But the bigger issue in my mind at the moment was who the hell was on the phone that had her in such a big hurry to put on something cute and meet them. Omar had better not be stepping to her again—not unless he wanted me to finish that whoop-ass I put on him.

Keisha stripped down and went into the bathroom, and I heard her turn on the shower. I waited another minute, and as soon as I heard the shower curtain sliding shut, I got the hell out from under the bed.

“Ouch!” It took a moment for me to realize it was my own voice I heard shouting out. I had stabbed myself with a belt buckle that was lying on the floor.

I heard the shower curtain sliding open immediately. Damn! She heard me. I sprinted to the open window and threw myself onto the fire escape, but I couldn’t get the damn ladder to unhook. I had no choice but to jump, because there was no way I was going to stick around long enough for Keisha to call the cops.

There wasn’t a damn thing there to break my fall, and the shit hurt. But there was no time to stop and check for cuts and bruises. I had to get out of there before Keisha came out of the bathroom and saw me. I limped around to the front, got in my car, and drove like a bat out of hell.

The whole ride home, I thought about the diary, which I had shoved under the front seat. I kept imagining scenarios where I was pulled over, the car was searched, and the diary was confiscated. I pictured myself
going to jail for breaking and entering. The thoughts had me so distracted that a few times I swerved out of my lane and nearly had an accident. I gripped the wheel tighter and slowed down to the speed limit, determined to make it home in one piece. There was no way I was going to crash or get pulled over before I had the chance to read what Keisha had written in that diary.

I knew that whatever was in there could quite possibly be more painful than the fall I ’d just taken off the fire escape. What if Omar was telling the truth and the book contained every dirty detail of her affairs? Would I be able to live with that? How could I be with a woman for years, live with her, and plan to spend the rest of my life with her and not know who she really was?

Or what if I had stolen her diary only to find out that the night I caught her and Omar really was the only time she had ever stepped out on me? I thought I would be able to forgive her, but what if seeing the details in black and white sent me over the top? Then I would lose Keisha for sure, and I didn’t know if that would be worth it.

My mind was in overdrive, thinking of all the things that could be in that book. I was sick to my stomach by the time I drove down the block and parked in front of my apartment. I took the book out from under the seat and got out of the car, giving a quick look over my shoulder. As nervous as I was, I half expected to see a cop car pulling around the corner, coming to arrest me.

Even though I lived alone, I didn’t feel safe reading the diary until I was in my bedroom with the door locked. I ’d been interrupted twice trying to read the information on these pages, and this time, I was determined to finish what I ’d started.

From the first page, I was already starting to wish I
could turn back the hands of time and put the book back, unopened, right where I found it. It read like one of those sordid chick-lit novels. Keisha’s very own
Sex and the City.

“Oh, hell naw!” I yelled out when I got to a page describing how she gave a blow job to one of my boys. It was after a basketball game sophomore year in high school. She wasn’t even going down on
me
then!

There were two stars next to the dude’s name. What the heck did that mean?

“I hate that nigger.” I threw the book across the room after I read about her letting this punk-ass player screw her in his car after he took her out for ice cream. Ice cream? I introduced her ass to sushi. I brought her flowers and candy. I treated her like a princess, and here she was letting some guy slip it to her in the backseat of his car after a trip to Carvel. Ain’t that a bitch!

As much as it hurt, I picked up the book and continued reading. I couldn’t stop. Something wouldn’t let me pull away from the painful truth on those pages. Now I had the answers I ’d been looking for, and it hurt like hell to know that Omar wasn’t lying when he’d said he wasn’t the only one—not by a long shot.

The further I read, the more names I saw, all of them listed as Keisha’s past sexual partners. Next to every dude’s name were stars, ranging from one to five. I figured out that it was some sort of fucked-up rating system Keisha had devised so she could classify everyone by how good they were in bed.

One entry was about a dude she met in a club, who got four stars next to his name:
I went out dancing with the girls and wound up in bed with this guy who works at the car wash. Every time I go in there now, he takes my ticket and gives me a free upgrade. I guess you can
say we’re even. I don’t know why I’m doing this, because I love Darnel so much.

Every entry I read was like plunging a knife in my heart, as it described in graphic detail what she did with each guy and how much, or how little, she enjoyed it. The worst part was that between each descriptive entry, there were passages about how much she loved me and how she couldn’t imagine loving anyone else. How sick is that? She called what we had love, yet she was doing just about every brother on campus.

As if all of this didn’t hurt enough already, I came to the page that cut me the deepest. There it was, in Keisha’s own handwriting:
Omar is the best sex I have ever had. He does things to my body I can’t describe. I didn’t realize how good sex could be. He makes me feel like a real woman. I love Darnel, but he can’t hold it down like Omar. I wish I didn’t need one man to love and another to fuck the shit out of me.

I wanted to rip the pages right out of the book, to destroy any evidence of her words. But it was too late; I ’d already seen it, and the truth would be burned into my consciousness forever—there, next to Omar’s name, were ten stars and a little caption that read,
Omar gets ten stars because he’s ten times better than anyone I’ve ever been with.