Crazy Love (19 page)

T
ameeka glanced over at Tyrell, and her lips turned up into a wide smile; she wanted to giggle, but she didn't dare embarrass him. They were in Taste of Heaven, sitting on one of the couches. The store had long since closed and they had the place to themselves. Tameeka had lit dozens of candles and a Luther Vandross CD played softly in the background. This is heavenly…total bliss…eat your heart out, skinny ladies, she crowed silently. She was stretched out on the couch with her feet in Tyrell's lap. Her eyes returned to Tyrell's profile, and this time she did giggle, she couldn't help it. Tyrell glanced up and his eyes met hers and he winked playfully at her, then went back to his activity.

Tyrell swiped the bright orange nail polish over Tameeka's toenail, then leaned back and admired his handiwork. His full lips turned up into a smile; he had to admit it, he was getting better. The first two toes looked like a two-year-old had done them, but the last three he'd just finished were the shit! If someone would've told him that one day he'd be spending a Sunday afternoon painting a lady's toenails, he would've punched them out.

“Hey babe, you rocking this color. Whaddya think?” he asked, giving her a look that begged for her to like the job he'd done.

Tameeka glanced down and wriggled her toes. She had to agree with him, the color looked good with her skin tone. “You know, you'll never live it down if any of your boys catch you doing this. Your new name will be Tyra,” she joked, then sighed. It had been another perfect day. Tyrell had cooked her breakfast and served it to her in bed. Then he came to work with her and they worked side-by-side together. He had given her a foot rub and now he was polishing her toenails. Best of all, not once did he leer at a skinny lady. I can definitely get used to this. My life is perfect. She playfully rubbed her foot against his crotch.

“Hey, behave yourself,” he scolded. His brows were furrowed as he concentrated on polishing her nails. “If you keep it up, you're not gonna get your other foot done,” he said, and Tameeka chuckled nastily.

Tameeka's cell phone rang, and she automatically reached out for it, but froze midair at Tyrell's warning look. “It might be my grandmother.”

Tyrell shook his head. “Your grandmother rarely calls you.” In all the time they'd been dating, she had only called Tameeka twice. “And if she does call, it's on your home phone. Ignore it, baby, let's just enjoy our time together.”

“You're right.” Tameeka grinned, then settled back on the couch. Suddenly the side door swung open. Startled, Tameeka and Tyrell looked up to see Mohammad strutting through the door. He was halfway across the store before he saw them on the couch; he skidded to a stop.

“Hey!” all three said at the same time.

Mohammad quickly took in the scene and apologized. “I didn't know you were still here. I needed some lip balm. If that's okay with you,” he said to Tameeka.

“Sure, take whatever you need,” Tameeka offered, and Mohammad snatched up his balm and hurried out of the store.

“I thought you took the key from him,” Tyrell asked, as he suspiciously eyed Tameeka.

“I did,” Tameeka stammered, burning under his gaze. “But I guess he had a second copy that I didn't know about.”

“This needs to stop; dude's treating your store like it's his personal Wal-Mart,” Tyrell fumed as he pushed himself up. “He needs to give up that key.”

“Wait!” A startled Tameeka pushed Tyrell back against the couch. “No! Don't do that. I'll get it from him tomorrow.”

“Why are you so scared?” Tyrell asked. “Afraid I'll kick his ass?”

Tameeka gave a nervous laugh. “You know how much I hate violence. I can't even watch boxing. Let it go. I'll get it tomorrow. Okay?”

“He acts too damn comfortable in the store. I don't like it,” Tyrell grumbled.

Tameeka sighed. “I'll talk to him tomorrow. I promise,” she said, then leaned over and tenderly kissed him. “Are you gonna finish my nails?” she asked, wiggling her toes at him.

“You'd better handle your business tomorrow. If not, I'll do it for you. Now give me your foot.” He grabbed her foot and began polishing her toenails.

“Mmm,
baby, what will this
do
to me?” she whispered seductively, and leaned over and ran her hand over his crotch. He was focusing so hard on her nails that he didn't realize where her hand was and what it was doing. It wasn't until she slipped her hand past his elastic waistband and into his boxer shorts that he took notice. “Ah, I think it's up,” she said softly, and tenderly began stroking him.

“Come on now, I'm almost done,” Tyrell complained.

“You don't want me?” Tameeka asked, and poked her lips out in a pout.

“Girl, puh-leeze, I don't know how you can fix your mouth to say something like that. I want you morning, noon and night. But I wanna fix your nails. Don't you want to have pretty feet?” he asked. He was grateful for the distraction of painting her nails; otherwise he'd be cheesing at her all day. Never did he imagine that he'd find his soul mate, things like that happened only in the movies.

“I guess. But I'd rather have you,” Tameeka answered sullenly, then she got an idea. She pulled her hand off Tyrell and began unbuttoning her top.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Tyrell asked. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously as he watched Tameeka open her blouse, exposing the tops of her soft breasts. She shrugged the blouse off and tossed it on the back of the couch. He felt the stirrings of a serious hard-on.

“Oh, nothing,” Tameeka answered as if it was totally normal to be shirtless while her boyfriend painted her toenails. “I want to be comfortable. That's all.”

“Oh, cool,” Tyrell muttered, but he kept sneaking peeks up at Tameeka's chest. “So this isn't some type of ploy to get me to have sex with you?”

Tameeka shook her head. “Not at all. This is.” She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, unleashing her melon-size breasts, and Tyrell's mouth dropped open. “So is it working?” she asked unnecessarily—her hand was on his crotch and it felt like she was touching a brick.

Tyrell set the polish down and crawled on top of Tameeka. He leaned in to kiss her, but pulled away and looked down into her eyes. She was staring at him with an expectant look. “You know, if we do this, you're gonna mess up all my hard work,” he said as his eyes roamed lovingly over her face.

“Nu-uh, not if we do it like this,” Tameeka said, and gently nudged Tyrell off her, then took off the rest of her clothes and Tyrell did the same. Then Tameeka got into position. “See, if I do this, nothing will get mussed.”

Tyrell slipped on a condom, then gripped her hips. A soft groan escaped his lips as he entered her softness.

“Tyrell,” Tameeka panted as she arched her back and pressed her behind against him. “Oh baby, do it slow for me.”

“You want it slow?” Tyrell asked, and Tameeka nodded. “Well, we both want things,” he said. “I want you to tell Mohammad to stay the fuck out of your life.”

1. Innocent bystanders get hurt
   
2. Children's well-being gets lost in the anger
   
3. Anger causes some parents to do some stupid things
   

H
ey, baby. How're you doing?” Stacie said into the phone. She knew that today was Michelle's visitation day.

“Okay,” Jackson grumbled.

“How's Jam doing?” she prodded.

“He's okay, excited about meeting a new friend.”

“So he doesn't know he's meeting his mother?”

Jackson let out a frustrated breath: Now she's questioning my decision. “Nope. I'll drop that bomb when he's ready for it. I think it'll be a little bit too much for him to handle now.”

“I agree,” Stacie said, surprising him. “What time do you want me over?” she asked.

“You don't have to be here,” Jackson protested. “She's doing a drop-by. She'll probably be gone by the time you get here.”

“That's okay…I just want to be with you and your family.”

“That's cool,” Jackson said, trying to fight the smile that threatened to spread over his face. “Well, get here when you can.”

“I'll see you in a bit then,” Stacie said before clicking off the phone. She sauntered into her bedroom and began thumbing through her closet. “Is it possible to fall in love so fast?” She pulled out an outfit and dressed. “I need to check on Nevia and the babies.” She scooped up the phone and dialed Nevia. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, girl, whatcha doing?”

“Nuthin',” Nevia mumbled.

“What's wrong,” Stacie asked, concerned. Her sister didn't answer. Stacie took a calming breath. So she's in a shitty mood. “Did you do anything fun today?” Stacie inquired cheerfully.

“I'm gonna get my car back,” Nevia grumbled.

Stacie sighed. Ever since Carlos had taken the car, all Nevia had talked about was getting it back. “Nev, let it drop. Carlos will kill you if you keep bothering him about that damn car. You can always get another one.” Stacie glanced at the clock; she had five minutes to make it to the bus stop. She hurried out the door.

“I want that car. And I'm gonna get it,” she said firmly. “'Bye!”

“Nevia, wait!” Stacie yelled. All she got was a dial tone. “Oh crap,” she groaned. “She's gonna get herself killed.”

J
ackson swung open the door, eyeing Michelle, the same way he would a pile of dog shit. Smirking, Michelle raised her head, squared her shoulders and strutted into the house. “I didn't realize there was going to be a welcoming committee,” she said, eyeing Stacie. She remembered seeing her in court with Jackson, and she'd wondered who she was. Michelle's eyes dropped down to Stacie's ring finger; it was bare. She's not his fiancée, she concluded. Now she stood next to Jackson, looking like a wall of protection for Jameel. “Where's my son?” Michelle calmly asked.

“
My
son is in the backyard playing.” As soon as the doorbell rang, Jackson had sent Jameel back outside. “I'll go get him.” Jackson turned on his heel. While Jackson was gone, Stacie and Michelle studied each other like two Rottweilers in a pit. Jackson returned and then wrapped an arm around Stacie's waist. Stacie rested her head on his chest, grateful for his strength. After Nevia's call, she had called Pimp and asked him to keep an eye on her. Stacie knew Nevia would be okay: Pimp was better protection than the FBI.

Jackson's lips grazed the top of Stacie's head. Michelle saw the tenderness in Jackson's movements and her heart thudded with envy. Not because she wanted him, but because she remembered how deeply and thoroughly Jackson loved.

A few seconds later, Jameel raced into the room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Michelle. He wasn't sure what to do; he looked at her, then at his daddy for an answer. Seeing his confusion, Jackson leaned down and spoke softly.

“Jam, remember I told you we're having a guest today?” Jameel nodded solemnly; something about his father's voice made his tummy feel funny. “This is Miss Michelle,” Jackson forced out. “Tell her hi,” Jackson instructed and Jameel held out his hand for a handshake and shyly greeted her.

“Ooh, aren't you the little man,” Michelle cooed.

“My daddy taught me that,” he said, and smiled brightly. “He told me that whenever I meet somebody new I should shake their hand. And I do,” he said proudly, then looked over at Jackson for his approval. His smile grew even broader when Jackson gave him the thumbs-up.

“Yeah, that's good,” Michelle said without much enthusiasm. “So what do you like to do?”

Jameel thought hard, then he said, “You wanna swing? Me and Leila were playing, but she got tired and I was a little tired too, so I asked her if she wanted to play cowboys and she said no, she said that she didn't want to play cowboys because I cheat too much, so I told her okay and then I asked her if she wanted to color and she made a funny face and told me no, she didn't want to because I didn't have grape color and I told her that I had a bunch of other colors, but she said that she didn't want to color without grape, so I said okay, then I asked her if—”

“Okay!” Michelle shouted and Jameel clamped his mouth shut. Michelle wearily rubbed her temples.

“Jam, why don't you go wash up.”

“I'll take you,” Stacie offered, and she led Jameel off to the bathroom. As soon as his son was out of earshot, Jackson rounded on Michelle.

“What's wrong, Michelle? Tired of being a mommy?” he mocked. “Aw, poor baby, you were right eight years ago. You have no business raising a child.”

Michelle let her hands drop to her side. “Obviously somebody thinks that I'll be good at it. Otherwise I wouldn't be here,” she quipped.

“Well, the judicial system isn't always right,” Jackson angrily snapped.

“When are you going to forgive me, Jackson? Huh? Don't you think I know what I did was wrong?” She moved closer to him. The top of her head barely reached his chest. “Every damn night I cried knowing that I gave away a piece of myself.”

Jackson looked away.

“I'm a crackhead and a former prostitute who sold her pussy for money so that I could get high. That was wrong. I ain't trying to sugarcoat it. What I did was wrong. I know that,” she said, her voice quivering; she took a deep breath to steady it, then said, “Why can't you forgive me? He did.” She pointed to the ceiling.

Jackson let out a mirthless laugh. “So you found God now? And He's forgiven you? How do you know? Did He send you a sign?” Jackson taunted. “Or since you're so important, I bet He made a special trip just to tell you that He's forgiven you. That's bullshit, Michelle. You're still the same person. You haven't changed one bit,” he spat at her.

“You're the one with the fucking bullshit!” Michelle screamed, her face wet with tears. Her first visit with her son wasn't going the way she had envisioned it. “Yes, I made a mistake. Why don't you give me a chance to prove that I'm sincere?” she pleaded. “Why?”

“What will it take for you to get the hell out of our lives? Do you want money? What about drugs?” He lowered his voice, then said, “I know a dude, Li'l Dog. He can hook you up, just let him know that J sent you.”

“How much money are you talking? A hundred, two hundred?” Her eyes held a calculating glint that Jackson didn't miss and his heart started pounding with anticipation.

“Nu-uh, more than that. A couple thou,” he said, as he calculated the balance of his savings account. He had over fifteen thousand saved up. He'd gladly give it all to her, just to get her out of their lives.

Michelle pushed down her laughter and she was almost successful until she saw Jackson's expression. It was the same one a hunter wears when his prey steps into the trap. Her laughter bubbled up and spilled out of her.

“What's so funny?” Jackson asked, looking perplexed.

“You are. You're so fucking funny. Acting like we on TV and shit.” She shook her head. “So how is it supposed to work? Huh?” she asked. “Maybe something like this: You buy me off. I quietly fade out of your life, then you and Jameel live happily ever after. It ain't gonna happen! This ain't
The Young and the Restless
and you ain't no Victor. But maybe I
should
do it,” she said thoughtfully. “Then when Jameel gets old enough I can show him how you tried to keep him away from his mother.”

She's right. I don't want Jam blaming me for not letting him see his mother, no matter how fucked-up she is.
“Whatever. Look,” he said calmly. “I don't like your ass, and I don't trust your ass. But you are Jameel's mother, so—”

“You're my mommy?” Jameel asked, wonderment filling his voice. He wanted a mommy. Everybody on TV had one.

“Aw shit!” Jackson muttered.

Stacie hurried to Jackson's side. “I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I shouldn't've brought him back so soon.”

“It's not your fault,” Jackson said.

Michelle ran over to Jameel and pulled him to her in a hug. “That's right, Jameel. I'm
your
mother and you're
my
son,” she answered as she laughed between tears. She had been waiting eight years to say those words, and they felt sweet coming out of her mouth. “You're so handsome,” Michelle cooed as her hands ran freely over his face. “Just like your father. And I bet you're smart in school,” she said, then looked to Jackson. He was too stunned to confirm, he simply gazed at the pair.

Jameel was momentarily dazed by the news, but quickly adapted as Michelle told him about all the fun things they were going to do together.

“Can we go to the zoo? Or maybe the park. I like the park. Can we go to Six Flags? Daddy took me and Leila there last summer, but I ate too much and got sick. I puked up all over the place. I want to go to—”

“We can go wherever you want,” Michelle promised. “Come on, show me your room.” She grabbed her son by the hand and he led her to his bedroom.

“That's the devil,” Ettie Mae muttered from the doorway. “Just as sure as I'm standing here today, that girl is evil.”

Jackson sat down on the couch and dropped his head in his hands. When he lifted his head his eyes were glassy and his cheeks slick. “How do you beat the devil?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“By living a Christ-like life. Just be patient. She'll fall and you'll be there to catch your son.”

After Michelle left, Jackson pulled Jameel into his arms and squeezed him tightly. His son felt so little, so vulnerable.

“Daddy, what's wrong?” Jameel asked as he tried to squirm out of his father's arms.

“I just want you to stay with me forever,” Jackson replied.

“I'm not going anywhere…I promise,” Jameel said. “But I really like having a mommy. When am I gonna see her again?” he asked.