Crazy Love (7 page)

1. You'll have a 24/7 confidante
   
2. You'll have a permanent shopping partner
   
3. You'll have someone to swap clothes with
   
4. You'll have a sounding and crying board
   
5. You'll have someone there to catch you when you fall
   

T
ameeka stirred the pot of lima beans, then sat at the table across from Stacie. It was dinnertime and it was Tameeka's week to cook, which both of them were grateful for; culinarily challenged, Stacie's fanciest dish was tuna casserole, and even that was hit or miss.

“So Carlos still doesn't know about the car?” Tameeka asked.

Stacie shook her head. “Nope. I thought she was busted. Remember I told you he'd called her? All he wanted was CoCo's shoe size.”

“The Lord must have been looking out for her. 'Cause as soon as Carlos finds out about that car, the shit is gonna hit the fan,” Tameeka vowed.

“I know,” Stacie lamented, worried for her sister. “I don't know what possessed her to do something so stupid. She's finally getting herself together. All her efforts are going to be crap when Carlos finds out. You know what they call him on the street, don't you?” she asked, giving Tameeka a knowing look. “How could she possibly think the shit she did won't come back and smack her in the face? And what was she doing, screwing around with that old man and letting him buy her a car? I don't get it,” Stacie said, then finally noticed what her friend was cooking. “Aw crap! Are you on the bean diet again?” Stacie asked, alarmed. Every time Tameeka went on one of her diets, she had to suffer through it with her.

“Nu-uh, I had a taste for some lima beans, barbecue turkey wings and corn bread,” she answered, and Stacie breathed a sigh of relief.

“Girl, you always cooking something,” Stacie teased. “Even when we were little, you were burning in your Easy-Bake Oven.”

“It calms me, girl,” Tameeka answered, and turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a tray of seasoned turkey wings. “After my store, it's the next best thing to sex.”

“I don't know about all that. More relaxing than sex? You crazy, girl.
Ain't nuthin' better than sex.”

“You just got hot panties. Everybody ain't like you. We all don't live and die for the dick. So how many men do you have lined up for the week?” Tameeka asked.

“Not a lot…just Dennis,” Stacie mumbled under her breath.

“Dennis?” Tameeka asked, her voice incredulous. “The same Dr. Dennis who promised to take you to Savannah, then called to tell you that he and his wife reconciled? That Dennis?” She shook her head.

“Yeah,
that Dennis
. They separated again, this time for good.”

“Whatever,” Tameeka sniffed. “Tyrell was telling me about his boy, who, by the way, is unmarried. I think you should meet him.”

“Meek, you know I hate blind dates,” Stacie whined. “They're just so weird. Hell, we're in Atlanta, who can't find a date here? Half the people here get picked up just by walking down the street. There must be something wrong with him,” she stated.

“There's nothing wrong with him…honest. Tyrell and I just thought it would be a good idea for you two to meet. Then if you guys hit it off, and I know you will, we can double-date.”

“I don't know…”

“Just look at it as an adventure. Please think about it, okay?”

Stacie shrugged. “I might, but don't be mad at me if I say no. I'm not totally feeling a blind date.”

“Why, because he doesn't meet the requirements on your list?” Tameeka asked in a snippy tone.

“Don't be getting tart with me,” Stacie said curtly. “I haven't even met him, so how can I know how he ranks on the list?”

Tameeka shook her head, disappointed in her friend. “You and that damn list. You know what?” she asked, and Stacie glanced at her. “That damn list ain't gonna keep you warm at night,” she said, then turned back to the stove and muttered about women not appreciating a good man when they have one.

“Like
you
don't have a list.” Stacie glared at her friend.

“I don't,” Tameeka replied.

“Like hell,” Stacie snorted. “You review your list every time you meet somebody. Now tell me I'm wrong,” she challenged.

“You're wrong,” Tameeka replied in a singsong voice. “I don't have a list,” she insisted.

“You crazy, girl! Whether or not you want to admit it, you—have—a—list!” Stacie said as she pounded her fist on the counter. “Check it out. What do you do every time a man step to you?” she asked, but plowed on, not giving Tameeka an opportunity to answer. “You decide, based on the standards that you have, whether or not to let him have the digits.”

“That's not a list—
list,”
she said. “It's just my way of weeding out the jerks,” she explained.

“Sounds like a list to me,” Stacie muttered. “Okay,” she said in a patient voice, “so if it isn't a list, then what is it?”

“Well, it's a
system
that I use. And this
system
does require me to note certain information that determines whether or not the man is worthy of my time,” she answered slowly and deliberately.

“So when you
note
your information, how do you keep a running tab of it?”

“In my head,” Tameeka answered, then tapped her temple. “It's all here.”

“Ah-ha! You're keeping a list. Only it's internal. That's all I'm saying.” Stacie smiled triumphantly. “There ain't nothing wrong with keeping lists, they keep things organized.”

“They do,” Tameeka agreed. “But why don't you admit it, your list is c-r-a-z-y. You're over thirty years old and you're still keeping a ‘what I want in a man' list. That's just crazy,” Tameeka said as she made her way over to the table.

Tameeka's words stung. “It might be c-r-a-z-y, as you put it, but I will be going out with my green-eyed, six-foot-two doctor. Who makes over six figures,” she sang. “And he's good in bed. So something's gotta be right about
the list,”
she bragged as she pranced around the kitchen.

“Is that all you think about?”

“What else is there?” Stacie shrugged. “Other than sex,” she added.

“You're serious, aren't you?” Tameeka asked, but she didn't need to. The finality of Stacie's words said it all. She suddenly felt sad for her friend. “Stace,” she started gently. “There's more to life than sex and money.” She began ticking items off with her fingers. “There's friends and family, good health, good spirit—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Stacie murmured. “Ain't hearing it. There's nothing wrong with money and dick. But you know what would be better?” she asked. “A dick wrapped in money.” They both laughed, then lapsed into a comfortable silence.

“You know…” Tameeka started, as she put the pan of turkey wings in the oven.

“Do I know what?” Stacie asked when Tameeka turned around to face her.

“Don't get mad,” Tameeka hedged. “Promise me you won't get mad.”

Stacie shook her head. “Nope, I'm not making any blind promises. The last time I did, I ended up driving a man to Dallas,” she said.

“Well, don't you…have you ever thought that…?” Tameeka stammered, then she breathed deeply and spat out her words. “I think you and Nevia are like two peas in a pod.”

“No we're not!” Stacie hotly protested.

“Yeah you are,” Tameeka shot back at her. “You two have always been alike.”

Stacie rolled her eyes. “How? Tell me how we're so similar,” she challenged.

“Both of y'all use what's between your legs to get things from men.”

“Nu-uh,” Stacie objected. “I don't do that.”

“You do,” Tameeka firmly countered. “Do you need me to break it down for you?” she asked. Stacie smacked her teeth but nodded her head. “The car is one—”

“But that doesn't count. Malcolm gave me Lexie because my Geo Metro broke down.”

“That's no excuse, you still accepted it. You could've gone out and got one on your own,” Tameeka retorted. “The second is the jewelry. Both of you have enough ice to open a freaking store.” Stacie didn't say anything; all she did was glare at Tameeka. “And the clothes,” Tameeka continued. “I don't know who has more, you two or the Hilton sisters.”

“Are you finished?” Stacie asked. “Let me clarify one thing: I'm not like my sister. Just because men like to give me things, it doesn't mean anything. I just happen to pick generous men.”

“How many of those men gave you their gifts before you slept with them?” Tameeka asked, pinning Stacie with a pointed stare.

“I don't know. I don't keep track of stuff like that,” Stacie huffed, but with a sinking feeling she realized that she had slept with each one of her benefactors
before
the gifts came.

“Like I said, you and Nevia are alike.”

“Do you really see me that way?” Stacie asked in a dejected tone.

“Yeah, but that's who you are,” Tameeka announced in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I think you're jealous because I get all the men and you don't!” Stacie said, and Tameeka drew back as though she had been slapped.

When she talked her voice was heavy with unshed tears. “You just don't get it, do you?” Tameeka said, then sadly walked out of the kitchen.

Are Nevia and I really alike? Stacie wondered. Do I use my coochie as an ATM card? The answer flickered in front of her, but she swiped it away. “Meek! Hold up, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it,” Stacie apologized and took off after Tameeka. “I'm sorry, Meek!” Stacie said, and Tameeka looked her in the eyes before slamming her bedroom door in Stacie's face.

W
hen she heard the front door close, Tameeka slipped out of bed and strolled into the living room.

“A-ha!” Stacie shouted. “I knew you've been avoiding me.”

Tameeka froze in her tracks. “Nu-uh,” she hotly denied.

“Have too. For the past week you've been avoiding me like I was a Jehovah's Witness.”

“Whatever,” Tameeka said, shrugging. “I've got to get ready for work,” she said, and turned toward the bathroom.

“I'm sorry, Meek. I'm really sorry for what I said,” Stacie apologized, her voice ringing with sincerity. Tameeka stopped, and Stacie talked to her back. “I was being a bitch. Can't we forget about it?”

Tameeka looked over her shoulder, then said, “I don't know. You really hurt me.” She quickly showered and hurried off to work, leaving behind an upset Stacie.

Tyrell happily rang up the customers' purchases and they all walked out of Heaven on Earth with smiles on their faces. Tameeka had to admit that he was a natural people person; the customers loved him. This was only his third weekend in the store and he already knew more about her regular customers' personal lives than she did. He was friendly and funny, a winning combination in any profession, but very lucrative in retail.

She noticed that he had put a customer's purchase in a bag that looked like it was too small and she started toward the register. Halfway there she stopped herself and thought that if the customer didn't complain, then she shouldn't. Turning around on her heels, she headed to her office where she had a stack of invoices two inches thick that needed to be taken care of.

Tyrell grinned as soon as he saw her walk toward her office. He had seen her hovering nearby, pretending to arrange a display, but he knew she was really keeping an eye on him.

“You must really like your job,” a teasing voice said, pulling his attention back to the counter.

“Huh?” Tyrell answered and found himself face-to-face with one of the most beautiful ladies he had ever laid eyes on. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Suddenly his tongue felt too big for his mouth. “Er—I don't—um, do this full time, I'm helping out a friend,” he managed to sputter out, and she giggled.

“Well, you should be doing it full time, you're good with people.”

Tyrell shook his head and as his senses returned, he began scanning her purchases. “Thanks, but I enjoy my full-time job,” he answered.

“So what do you do?”

“Drive a bus…I'm a bus driver for the City of Atlanta.”

“So you still deal with people. Well, you are wonderful at it,” she complimented, and smiled widely at him. “Is that any good?” she asked. Tyrell had just scanned her mango-scented massage oil and was about to drop it in the bag, but his hand stopped midair. He chuckled. He was remembering the time he had used it on Tameeka. “Ooh, it must be
good
. Listen to that laugh, it sounds downright naughty,” the customer flirted.

Tyrell smiled and totaled her purchases; he waited while she wrote him a check. She passed the check to him, along with her driver's license. He glanced at her driver's license, then glanced at her. “You really aren't that old, are you? Oh, my bad. I didn't mean for it to come out like that,” he apologized, but the customer simply laughed.

“I'm not
that
old. But yep, that's my age,” she said proudly; she was used to people's reactions.

“Damn, you look good! I say this for all the brothas—please keep doing whatever it is you're doing.”

“It's nothing but good genes and healthy living,” the customer replied humbly. Then when Tyrell was expecting her to pick up her bags, she handed him her business card instead. At that very moment Tameeka stepped out of her office and stopped in her tracks. She cocked her head and watched the scene through narrowed eyes. “I'm the manager of Customer Service at Coca-Cola, call me if you want to change careers
or anything else,”
she said, and gave him a playful wink.

Tyrell slipped the card in his pants pocket and turned to watch her walk away. Even carrying two plastic bags, she managed to look sexy.

“Wow!” Trent sauntered into the store just in time to hear the customer's parting comment. “She was all over you!” He pulled off his backpack and flung it behind the counter.

“Naw, man. She was being friendly, that's all,” Tyrell replied modestly.

“She was tight!”

“She was aw'ight,” Tyrell said in a way that let Trent know that the subject was closed.

“I thought she was fine,” Trent muttered, then headed back to Tameeka's office to clock in.

Tameeka still hadn't moved. She was so still that if the store had had mannequins she would've been mistaken for one. She's everything that I'm not: thin, sophisticated and drop-dead gorgeous, Tameeka fumed. Finally she unstuck herself and rushed over to Bea. She wanted to fling herself into Bea's arms and cry; instead she hissed through clenched teeth, “Did you see that? Did you see Tyrell flirting with that lady? He even took her business card.”

“You know, Meek, jumping to conclusions isn't an exercise that you'd want to spend your day doing,” Bea said wisely. “Tyrell's a good man. He wouldn't do anything to hurt you.”

“Sometimes people can't help hurting people,” Tameeka said, then she hissed, “especially when somebody is pushing their titties all up in their face.” She glared at Tyrell; she wanted to go over and ask him what was going on.

“Don't you bother that man,” Bea cautioned, reading her mind. “He didn't do nothing but take her business card. And I didn't see him offer her anything.”

“Just because he didn't give her
his
phone number, doesn't mean that
he's
not going to call
her
,” Tameeka bristled.

“Tameeka…” Bea started, but Tameeka was already on her way across the store.

“Hey, baby!” Tyrell said as he leaned over and kissed her. Tameeka tilted her head down so that his lips fell on the top of her head.

“Don't do that here,” she spat, and Tyrell drew back as though she had slapped him. “It's very unprofessional.”

“What's wrong?” he asked, puzzled. During the midmorning rush, she had let him kiss her. She even whispered a naughty promise in his ear that forced him to hide behind the counter for a full fifteen minutes.

“Is there a raffle going on that I don't know about?” she asked in a deliberately slow voice.

“What?”

“The business card. You're collecting business cards. Most times when people are collecting business cards they're having a raffle. I repeat, are we having a raffle?” she asked between clenched teeth.

“I'm not collecting bus—” He smiled as he remembered. “Oh snap,
that
business card. That was nothing, baby. She was being friendly.”

“Friendly, my ass!” Tameeka shrieked. “She wasn't being friendly, she was trying to pick you up, and you ate it up, every single drop if it.”

“Tameeka,” Tyrell soothed; he had come from behind the counter and put his hands on her shoulders but she just shrugged them off.

“So who's it going to be? Me or the one you're swapping business cards with?” Tameeka asked coldly.