Crazy Love (11 page)

J
ackson grinned like a schoolboy as he watched the ball fall into the hole and the lights of the machine light up. He loved playing the pinball machines at Dave & Buster's.

“Good one,” Tyrell congratulated him. “How's Jam?”

Jackson pulled his attention from the game. “He's fine, man. He scared us for a minute. Now he's back to his old self.”

“Has he been having a lot of attacks lately?” Tyrell asked, concerned.

Jackson shook his head. “No, this is his first one in a long time. He'd been running around all night. He usually keeps his inhaler with him, but he lost it and his second one was in my truck. Now we have one in every room in the house. But what's going on with you? Haven't heard from you in a minute. Now that you got a girlfriend,” Jackson taunted, then watched with dismay when he lost the game. He nodded toward the tables; he and Tyrell sat down and ordered beers.

“I'm good. Life is good. The job is good,” Tyrell answered. “Hey, man, my girl got a friend…she's tight. I can hook you up.”

“Why are you pushing this so hard? She must be jacked-up.”

Tyrell shook his head. “Naw, man. Not even. Tameeka thinks it's a good idea for us to double-date.”

“Tameeka
thinks so? So you a punk now?”

Tyrell frowned. “Why do I have to be a punk just because I try to keep my lady happy?”

“Punk!” Jackson goaded.

“It ain't like that,” Tyrell said. He took a gulp of his beer, then, “I have a situation for you.”

“Whassup?”

“What would you do if your girl had given her key to another dude and it wasn't her man?”

Jackson eyed his friend. “Tameeka gave her key to a dude? That's crazy, man. You gonna let her do that to you?”

Annoyance ran up Tyrell's spine. “It wasn't her apartment, she gave him keys to her store.”

“Wow! That's even worse.”

“How's that?”

“That's where ole girl spends most of her time. That's where she's making the money. She's playing you, man.”

Tyrell shook his head. “She said he needs it just in case she locks herself out.”

“If that's the case, she should give you the extra set.”

“That's what I told her. But she doesn't want to ask for the key back. She said she's scared.”

Jackson blew out a stream of air. “Scared? Scared of what? You need to control that shit. Either she's with you or she isn't. Get your shit straight, man.”

“I have it under control,” Tyrell reassured him.

Jackson nodded, but didn't say anything.

“So are you gonna do it or not?”

“The blind date thing?” Jackson asked, and Tyrell nodded. “Well, make it worth my time. Whaddya got for me, brotha?”

1. He might be the featured pic on www.uglypeople.com
   
2. He might try to do the booty dance with me since he probably hasn't had a date in years
   
3. He might be weird
   

T
hey should be here any minute,” Tameeka whispered excitedly as she nodded toward the restaurant's entrance. She wasn't sure if she was more excited about seeing Tyrell or the fact that her best friend was meeting his best friend. She crossed her fingers and silently prayed that everybody would get along tonight.

Stacie pasted on a fake smile and silently prayed that the evening would be over soon. God, I hate blind dates, they're nothing more than an organized way for losers to meet. And I don't need any help meeting anybody.

They were standing in front of a mirrored wall and Stacie turned to admire her reflection. “You look too good to be on a blind date,” she complimented her reflection. All the men in the restaurant silently agreed; they couldn't keep their eyes off her. With her white miniskirt and pale pink silk blouse paired with a waist-length denim jacket, she captured all the men's attention. “Don't forget that I'm hooking up with Barry tonight,” Stacie said to Tameeka. “So I'm going to eat, then leave.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tameeka said impatiently. “Barry the doctor, I know. Just relax and enjoy the evening.”

“Do you think I should call Momma and Nevia?” Stacie asked Tameeka. Ever since the hysterical call from her mother, Stacie had been calling home every day.

“I thought you called them today?” Tameeka asked as she scanned the crowd.

“I did,” Stacie answered. “But I want to call them again.”

“They have your number. They'll call you if something happens.”

“I know. But I feel like I need to check up on them,” Stacie said, worriedly. It had been another false alarm. Carlos hadn't snatched Nevia, he'd only forced her to go to a party with him.

“They'll be okay,” Tameeka reassured her.

Tyrell wandered into the restaurant and at his side was a reluctant Jackson. After a full day of begging and promising to detail Jackson's car, Tyrell finally got Jackson to agree to go out with Tameeka's friend. But anybody looking at Jackson could tell that he didn't want to be there; he was seething inside, and his handsome face was locked into a mask of disinterest. But that didn't stop the women from panting at him as he walked by.

Jackson strolled next to his friend, unaware of the attention he was getting. He hated blind dates. He hated them about as much as he hated to see the Lakers win their second straight championship. Already bored, his gaze roamed idly over the crowd, looking for his date; there were a lot of ladies sitting together who smiled and looked like they wanted to eat him for dinner, but something told him that they weren't waiting for him and Tyrell.

He continued his haphazard search and was about to give up and tell Tyrell he was leaving when he zeroed in on two ladies, and his pulse began to race. He squinted. The hairstyle was different, but the face and body were the same. It's her. Calm down man. Shake it off, he told himself. He slowed his step just enough to allow himself some time to get himself together.

“That's my man!” Tameeka squealed proudly and leapt up from the table, running into Tyrell's arms. “Omigod!” Tameeka shrieked as she shifted her gaze from Tyrell and focused on his friend standing silently next to him. She tugged at Tyrell's arm. “J is Jackson? Ain't this a trip? I—we—met him at Houston's.” She turned to Stacie and said, “Stace, don't you remember?”

Stacie rolled her eyes and nodded. Of course she remembered him. Knew who he was the minute he sauntered into the restaurant. Ah! The brother who doesn't know how to use a freaking phone, she told herself. At least he could've called me. She glanced down at her shoes, a pair of cotton candy pink leather sling backs from Nine West, and her nose wrinkled. She took a couple of calming breaths, then asked, “How's Jameel?”

How's Jameel? he thought. How's Jameel? The first thing out of her mouth should be an apology for not returning my call. Jackson kept his emotions in check as he smoothly answered. “Not too good. His asthma has been bothering him. Poor guy was sick all day. He was sent home early today from school. As a matter of fact…” He gave them an apologetic look, then pulled out his cell phone, stepping away to make the call. By the time he got back to the table the waiter was there to take their orders.

“I'll have the steak, and”—Stacie looked coyly up at the waiter—“Rudolf, can you make sure that it's medium well? The last time I was here it wasn't cooked right. It was too dry and I got a tummy ache,” she said softly and grimaced prettily.

“Sure thing, Miss Stacie. I'll taste it myself if you want me to,” Rudolf offered. It took her less than five minutes, but Stacie knew the waiter's name, how long he'd been working at the restaurant and his favorite color. In that time Stacie had him falling over himself trying to accommodate her.

Tameeka watched the scene with amusement; she was used to the treatment her friend got from men whenever they were out, but Jackson wasn't.

Jackson silently studied her over the top of his wineglass; she was the type of woman who used her looks to get men to do things for her. She was the type of woman who never returned a dude's call. Hell, he knew her type all too well; Atlanta was full of them, they practically grew on the trees.

Jackson set down his glass and turned to Stacie. “So you like men tripping over themselves trying to please you?”

Amused, Stacie let out a peel of laughter. “It wasn't that bad.”

“Puh-leeze. I won't be surprised if the dude comes back cradling a full bottle of Cristal. And I bet my life he won't be offering us any.” Stacie shook her head and rolled her eyes. But ten minutes later Rudolf proved Jackson right. Not only did he bring her an unopened bottle of champagne, but he also promised to later present her with a free dessert.

Jackson watched as Stacie oohed and aahed and thanked Rudolf so effusively for the champagne that he turned red.

Rudolf stopped by at least a dozen times to check on Stacie. Jackson turned to Stacie. “So is Your Royal Highness happy with her dinner?” he asked. There was contempt in his voice. Stacie heard it and didn't like it one bit.

“Excuse you? What's your problem?” They locked eyes with each other from across the table. “You're jealous, aren't you? You're jealous because Rudolf is paying me so much attention. Do you wish it was you? Do you want Rudolf's attention?” she asked innocently.

Tyrell spat out his wine, Tameeka's mouth gaped open in surprise and Jackson was opening and closing his mouth, too pissed to speak.

“Hell no!” he managed to utter. “I am not jealous of you or your new friend Rudolf. I think you are the most selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed person that I have ever met.
Your royal highness.”

Stacie continued to calmly eat, unfazed by Jackson's outburst. “If you want to call me Royal Highness, that's fine. But I gets what I want.” Then to prove her point, she sliced off a piece of lobster, holding the impaled seafood up for Jackson's inspection, then stuck it in her mouth. She had originally ordered the shrimp scampi, but Rudolf upgraded her meal, at no extra charge, to lobster. “On second thought, I kinda like the name.” Smiling, she turned toward her friend. “Meek, that's my new nickname, Royal Highness.” Deepening her voice, she said, “From this day forward I command everyone to start calling me: Your Royal Highness.”

“Oh, you are really over the edge,” Jackson grumbled. “I can think of a better nickname for you,” he said as he glared across the table at one of the most spoiled ladies that he had ever met. He put a finger to his head and pretended to be in deep thought. “Umm, what about spoiled brat. No, overgrown baby,” he concluded, then snickered at her.

“Whatever,” Stacie answered as she continued to calmly eat her dinner. “I don't see anything wrong with having standards.”

“That's what you call it?” Jackson guffawed. “That's a creative way of saying that the world revolves around me and I want everybody to do as I say.” Tameeka and Tyrell watched the exchange with wide smiles. They knew that there were going to be sparks between the two, but they didn't know that they were going to turn into a forest fire.

“Fuck you!” Stacie shouted. “Screw you. You ugly Yogi Bear–looking motherfucker.” She had popped out of her chair and was standing over Jackson, using her forefinger as a dagger, pointing it in his face. Jackson remained in his seat and glowered up at her. Tameeka and Tyrell exchanged glances. Tyrell wasn't sure what to do. He had never seen his friend act this way before. Tameeka reached over and squeezed his hand. He wasn't sure if it was to reassure him or to put him on alert for a full-blown all-out war; either way, he was ready.

“So how's Lexie? Is she feeling better?” Jackson asked, egging her on.

Stacie was stunned into silence. He's a mind reader, she thought. She gazed at him in amazement, then her eyes widened, remembering. He wasn't psychic or as intuitive as she thought, he was just nosy. “You're an eavesdropper,” she accused. “You listened to my conversation. You sicko!”

“Like I had a choice.” Jackson held up an imaginary cell phone and began mimicking Stacie. “‘It'll be longer if you want me to stop and take my panties off,'” then he giggled sarcastically.

“Aren't you just the fucking king of comedy?” Stacie said heatedly. “I bet the Kings of Comedy tour could use someone with your talent. Or better yet, maybe you could go on
Ripley's Believe It or Not!
as the Amazing Wet Man.” She picked up her glass of Cristal, drew back her arm and was poised to toss the liquid on Jackson when Tameeka ordered her to stop.

“Come on!” Tameeka barked and tugged at Stacie's arm. She needed to get her away from Jackson before she did something she'd later regret. She and Jackson were already scowling at each other; they looked like they were ready to pounce. When Stacie didn't move she said, “You got cocktail sauce on your chin.” That stopped Stacie in her tracks. She clamped her mouth shut and followed her friend to the bathroom.

As soon as Stacie and Tameeka were out of hearing distance, Tyrell pointed to Jackson and burst out laughing. “Dawg, whassup? I'm sensing a lotta love between you two. Should I go out and rent a tux?”

“You know what, Tyrell. You are so
funny,”
Jackson said, glowering at his friend. He was still flustered. He didn't know what just happened. Or how it escalated the way it had. His eyes narrowed. It was her, he thought. She's an evil, spoiled brat! “I need to bounce up out of here,” Jackson said, and slapped his napkin on the table. “I don't need to be insulted.”

“Naw, man, stay,” Tyrell insisted. He could barely keep a straight face. This was better than
Showtime at the Apollo
. He surveyed the table and it looked like everybody had finished eating. “It'll only be another half hour or so. We'll order dessert and coffee, then we're out. Okay?”

“Cool,” Jackson muttered. “Thirty minutes, no longer. After that, I'm gone,” he promised.

After dinner they all stood in front of the restaurant deciding what to do next. Stacie and Jackson pointedly ignored each other. Tyrell and Tameeka stood together. He had his arm wrapped around her waist and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Hey y'all, it's a nice night, let's take a walk around Centennial Park,” Tameeka suggested. She loved the park. A lot of people had the same idea. Even though it was late, the park was filled with lovers walking hand-in-hand.

“Cool. I need to walk this food off,” Tyrell chimed in, then turned to Jackson. “Whaddya say, dawg. Wanna hang out with us?” The ladies thought Tyrell was being polite in asking Jackson, but Jackson knew that it was quite the opposite. It was their code way of telling him to beat it.

“Naw, man. You two go on. I need to get going. Jameel…” He let the words hang in the air, letting them fill in the blank.

“Hold up!” Stacie shrieked. “How am I supposed to get home? In case you forgot, I came with Tameeka,” she said, and pointed to her friend. She placed her hand on her hip, jutted her chin out and glared at the group. The foursome was silent, and the only thing that could be heard was the flowing traffic.

Tameeka nestled her head deeper into Tyrell's shoulder and studied Stacie through her eyelashes. Jackson was on point, he had read her friend like a book; Stacie was a little self-absorbed. But Stacie is my girl, she concluded. She lifted her head from Tyrell's shoulder and said, “You know what? We don't have to take a walk. Besides, it's too chilly…”

Irritation flashed across Tyrell's face and Jackson happened to glance at Stacie and saw her smug expression. My boy ain't gonna be played like this, he thought.

He gritted his teeth, gulped deeply, then said, “I'll take you home.”

“I didn't come with
you
. I came with
her,”
Stacie responded, then pointed her finger at Tameeka. “And since I
came
with her, and not
you,
I want to go home with
her,
not
you
.”