Insatiable (14 page)

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nable to sleep without Marquise in bed beside her, Terelle sat up and began clicking cable channels. Her gaze shifted from the TV to the clock on the bedside table.

She stared in dismay: 2:30 a.m. Late. But, then again it was early when compared to the hours he’d kept in his former life when he was out on his grind until the wee hours of the morning. Back then, it was normal for him to come home at the crack of dawn. It was a typical day in the ’hood for someone to tell her Quise had been seen in the company of another woman—on the creep—and the woman in question was usually someone whom Terelle considered a friend. There were times, like just before he got locked up, when days would pass without a word from him. Those were terrible times. Times she didn’t even want to think about.

But that was back then. Before they were parents, before they’d begun to plan a life together. Things were different now.

Today was payday, Marquise’s first. And with almost forty hours of overtime reflected in his paycheck, Marquise was in a celebratory mood and wanted to hang out with his friends for a few hours.

Or so he’d said.

A few hours had turned into eight. Where was he?

A pang went through her as she felt a stirring of suspicion. Was he out creepin’? Of course not, she answered herself, twisting her engagement ring reassuringly.

Something on TV caught her attention, briefly taking her troubled mind off Marquise. But unable to focus on the TV program for long, she shot another uneasy glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed.

Now she was really worried. Had something happened to him? Gripped by fear, Terelle sat on the edge of the bed, unconsciously rocking back and forth as she massaged her temples.

The sudden sound of jangling keys caused her heart to leap for joy. Marquise was home! But instead of vaulting out of bed and running to the front door as her heart desired, Terelle grabbed the remote and pushed the off button, clicked off the light from the lamp bedside the bed, and dove under the covers.

“You sleep, babe?” Marquise whispered. Terelle didn’t answer. He crept around the bedroom, opening and closing drawers quietly. He quickly peeled off his clothes and quietly padded to the bathroom.

The sound of running water in the bathtub prompted Terelle to sit upright. Marquise had taken a shower before he’d gone out, she recalled, so why was he taking another?

In an instant, it became painfully clear. Terelle’s stomach knotted tightly. Marquise was washing away the scent of some slutty woman.

Was it someone he’d met that evening? Or one of the flirtatious heifers he and Terelle encountered in the mornings on their bus ride to work—or God forbid…was it someone from the job?

The moment he returned to the bedroom, Terelle clicked on the light. His expression of surprise would have seemed comical had Terelle not been so angry.

“Did you make sure you washed away all the evidence?”

There was silence as the accusation hung between them momentarily.

He tightened the towel around his waist. “What?” he asked finally. He had a dark brooding look.

“You heard me,” she said in an icy tone.

The dark look transformed into a smile. “Yeah, I heard you, but I can’t believe you trippin’ like this.” He laughed, but there was a nervous edge to the laughter.

“Is something funny?” Terelle could feel her left leg beginning to shake with rage.

Marquise bent over laughing. His laughter sounded so fake. “Look at you twitchin’ and carryin’ on. Damn, babe. You lettin’ your imagination run wild.”

“I asked you if you think this shit is funny?” She sprang out of bed and pushed Marquise, knocking him off balance.

“Yo, stop playin’ all the time,” he said, and laughed again after the shock of having lost his footing wore off.

“
You
better stop playing with me,” she exclaimed.

“Yo, sit your little ass down and chill.” He let out a taunting laugh and before Terelle knew it she had thrown up her fists. As if possessed by the spirit of Joe Louis or some deceased heavyweight boxer, Terelle started throwing combinations: right-left, right-left, right-left to Marquise’s arms, chest, and gut. She even got in a couple of kidney shots, which made him grimace and grunt in pain.

Restraining her in a bear-hug, he shoved Terelle onto the bed. Unconcerned that the towel had slipped off and fallen to the floor, Marquise straddled her, gripped her shoulders and shook her hard. “What’s wrong witchu, Terelle? You gotta be crazy, puttin’ your hands on me like that.”

“Get off me, Marquise!” Terelle said through clenched teeth. She wriggled and bucked, trying to topple him over. But she couldn’t budge the 230-pound man.

“You think you can put your hands on me any time you get ready? Huh? You think it’s sweet like that?” His face, twisted in fury, was lowered so close to hers she could practically taste the toothpaste he’d just used to brush his teeth.

“Stop, Quise,” she pleaded as she continued to struggle beneath him. “You’re gonna wake up Keeta.”

Snapped back to reality by the reminder that his daughter was asleep in her little youth bed on the other side of the room, Marquise froze. He shot a concerned glance in his daughter’s direction. Undisturbed by her parents’ sharp voices, Markeeta appeared to sleep soundly.

He eased his body off Terelle. She raced across the room, wrapped Markeeta in her
Elmo
blanket, and carried her into the living room and made her comfortable on the futon.

“Why’d you leave Keeta out there by herself?” Marquise barked when Terelle reentered the bedroom.

Terelle gave him a long narrow-eyed look. “You may not care how you act around your daughter, but I don’t want Keeta to see her daddy acting like a park ape.”

As if Terelle’s words made him suddenly aware that he was naked, Marquise picked up the fallen towel, readjusted it around his waist. Blowing out frustrated air, he went to the bureau, pulled out the bottom drawer and grabbed a pair of boxers and a white tee shirt. He dressed quickly, then flopped down onto the bed beside Terelle.

Hunched over in resignation, his elbows pressed into his thighs, Marquise rubbed his forehead. This gesture usually prompted Terelle to dispense affection immediately.

But tonight she ignored him. And realizing that neither a kiss of forgiveness nor a reassuring pat was coming his way, Marquise sat up. Renewed anger glinted in his dark eyes. “Damn, babe, why you come at my neck like that?” His words had a challenging tone.

“Don’t try to flip the script, Marquise. I didn’t drag my ass in here at two-thirty in the morning—you did!”

“That ain’t the issue, Terelle. You all hyped because I took a goddamn shower.”

“Why shouldn’t I be upset? I mean…damn…you took a shower before you went out tonight, right? So why wouldn’t I be suspicious when you jump in the shower again—as soon as you get home?”

“Whatchu suspicious about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she hissed. “It seems like you’re trying to hide the fact that you had sex with someone tonight.”

“Aw, shit!” he bellowed, then stood up and paced. “You need to check yourself ’cause this jealous shit ain’t gon’ git it. Damn, what happened? You used to be so cool, but it seems like you lettin’ that ice I put on your finger go to your head.”

Wearily, Terelle pushed back a wisp of hair that had fallen into her face. “Look, Marquise…something ain’t right. I can feel it and our engagement ain’t got shit to do with it. Just because I’m not willing to sit back and let you run all over me like you used to, don’t mean I’m the crazy bitch you’re tryin’ to make me out to be.”

“I didn’t call you a bitch,” he said in his defense.

“Whatever,” she replied. Then, eyeing him curiously, she raised a brow. “Why’d you knock me around like that? That’s suspicious, too.”

Marquise frowned. “Damn, Terelle. Stop blowin’ everything up! I didn’t hurt you, did I? You came at me swingin’—tryin’ to fight me like a man…Whatchu expect me to do?”

“I expect you to act like a man…not some punk-ass pussy who beats on women.”

Marquise’s face crumbled into a frown. He leaned to the side expressively. “Oh, now you tryin’ to say I beat your ass?” Marquise sighed heavily. “Tighten up, Terelle. you blowin’ this shit way outta proportion. I held you down—restrained you. That’s all.”

“You held me down and shook me like I was some crack head who owed you money,” she corrected.

Marquise sat down beside her; his expression softened. “You right, babe. I’m sorry. I was kinda rough with you, but you made me mad. You know I don’t like nobody to be puttin’ they hands on me. I snapped and I apologize.” Marquise stroked Terelle’s arm, then caressed the fine hair on the sides of her face. “I’m really sorry. You accept my apology?”

It would have been easy to accept his apology and leave it at that. But the knot of suspicion was still balled at the pit of her stomach, prompting Terelle to press further.

“I wish I could let this go, Quise. But I can’t. I have to know…” She paused, allowing her painful gaze to meet his eyes. “Were you sexually involved with someone tonight?”

This time Marquise didn’t make light of her inquiry. Wearing an angelic-looking expression, he shook his head. “No,” he said without so much as a blink. “The club was packed tight—niggas was up in there wall-to-wall. I danced a coupla times…It was hot as hell and you know how bad I sweat…”

Terelle instantly conjured a mental picture and swiftly shook it away. She didn’t like the idea of Marquise dancing delightedly and having a good time with some nasty-ass skank.

“I couldn’t get in bed with you smelling all funky and whatnot…so I took a shower.”

Terelle’s heart lightened. “Damn, Quise, why didn’t you say that when I first asked?

He shrugged. “You ain’t give me a chance. Before I could open my mouth, your little ass had balled up your fists and started flarin’ on me. If I ain’t know no better, I woulda thought I was in the ring with Tyson.” They both fell out laughing. The air was cleared and Marquise knew it was safe to joke.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Terelle asked, blushing.

“You got skills, girl,” he said, softening her further with a handsome grin that he knew she couldn’t resist. “Yo, if I didn’t know how to bob and weave, you woulda straight up knocked me out!” He demonstrated by leaning from side to side.

Marquise used humor to diffuse tense situations. It was a trait she’d always appreciated. His humor, however, was tinged with mockery, yet Terelle could not contain her laughter.

Marquise checked the bedside clock: 3:10 a.m. “Come on, babe,” he said, climbing into his side of the bed. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Happily, she got into bed. Facing him, she smoothed out his thick dark eyebrows, then ran her fingertip along his nose, outlined his lips. Marquise gave a low moan of appreciation. “I’m sorry, Quise,” Terelle whispered.

“Me, too,” he said. “Now, give me some sugar.” He scrunched up his lips; they kissed. But it was more a friendly smooch than the romantic kiss Terelle wanted.

“Night, babe,” Marquise said as he turned away from Terelle, pulling the comforter up to his neck.

She cuddled up behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. A sexual encounter wasn’t her primary objective; it was, however, the quickest route to the intimacy she desired.

Afraid he’d drift off to sleep, Terelle urgently rubbed his hip—his thigh. But Marquise didn’t stir. Boldly, she slipped her hand into the opening of his boxers in search of his loin. She fondled the flaccid flesh with the expectation that it would soon become rigid in her grasp.

Marquise inhaled and exhaled audibly; his breathing pattern soon changed to the sound of snoring. Terelle released his member, and slowly—reluctantly, withdrew her hand.

Lying on her back, she waited for the peace of slumber. Finally, sleep claimed her, but it did not bring her peace. In her tortured dream, she observed Marquise engaged in a seductive dance of betrayal. When the music finished playing, Marquise turned to leave the dance floor, but his partner, a nameless, faceless and relentless temptress, kept pulling him back onto the dance floor.

O
ne month later. As the 52 bus approached Girard Avenue, Terelle and Marquise stood up. Before dismounting the bus, Terelle, feeling too irritated to ignore the disrespect made it a point to grit on the freckle-faced woman who’d been flagrantly flirting with Marquise throughout the entire ride.

Every morning without fail, the moment Marquise and Terelle boarded the bus, some slimy female made it her business to send a flirtatious smile in Marquise’s direction. Terelle might as well have been invisible because her presence—the fact that she was sitting right next to him and wearing his ring—did nothing to deter this behavior. It was disgraceful the way they flaunted themselves, using provocative body language, seductive glances, shameless lip licking—anything to get Marquise’s attention.

And it irked Terelle to no end that Marquise didn’t put them in their places. He just sat there trying to play it off as if nothing foul were going on.

Every female in Philly, it seemed, wanted to get with her man. She was so irritated, she could hardly appreciate the extra paycheck that his hard work and overtime for the past six weeks had brought into their household.

When he was broke and on house arrest, she’d had him all to herself. She was ashamed to admit it, but she missed those days when she had his ass on lock.

Terelle and Marquise crossed the street and walked toward the next bus stop on their journey to work.

Quietly seething, Terelle walked in silence, while Marquise made cheerful comments about Markeeta—how she no longer cried when they dropped her off at the day care center.

“You’re suddenly quite talkative, Marquise.” Terelle’s tone was sarcastic and confrontational. “You didn’t have too much rap while we were sitting on the bus. And since you never talk to me while we’re ridin’ the bus, it’s no wonder those tramps start their shit every morning. I mean…damn…how do you expect me to feel?”

“Huh?” Marquise attempted a puzzled expression, but Terelle wasn’t fooled.

“Don’t play dumb, Quise. I said how do you expect me to feel when I gotta put up with a bunch of bitches hittin’ on you so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started throwing their panties at you right there on the bus.” Terelle was talking fast and breathing hard. “I saw you and that freckle-faced jawn grinnin’ at each other—flirting right in my damn face!”

Marquise lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “You didn’t see me flirtin’ wit nobody. I can’t help it if those smuts be tryin’ to crack on me. I ain’t even look at that broad, so chill out.” His final words came out with a thick stream of smoke.

“Don’t be acting like you’re totally innocent?” Terelle gave a bitter laugh. “You could put a stop to all that bullshit if you didn’t try to act like you single.”

“How the hell did I act like I’m single?” Marquise’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace. “Yo, it’s too early in the morning for you to be startin’ your shit,” he said harshly.

“My shit?” Terelle asked, her eyes enlarged with disbelief. They stopped walking and stood at the next bus stop, which was directly in front of a deli that sold more malt liquor than cold cuts.

“Dig, I don’t know whatchu talkin’ about, so tighten up. Aiight?” Marquise smiled condescendingly.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Every damn morning I gotta put up with the same crap—a bunch of slimy women skinnin’ and grinnin’—all up in your face like my ass is invisible. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been slippin’ you phone numbers while my back is turned.”

“Chill! Damn! Ain’t nobody tryin’ to hear this shit all early in the mornin’,” Marquise said with much animosity.

“Oh, I’m talkin’ shit…. you think I’m crazy? Okay, I’ll tell you what…let another bitch disrespect me this morning and I’m gonna show you crazy.”

Marquise responded with a loud, exasperated sigh, then stepped off the curb to look for the bus. “Where’s the fuckin’ bus?” he muttered as he angrily flicked his cigarette into the middle of Girard Avenue.

“Why do you let them bitches disrespect me like that?” Terelle asked quietly; pain lined her face.

“Please let that shit go. You gonna drive yourself crazy.” He shook his head, then spoke in a gentle tone, “Who’s wearing my ring—you or that jawn on the bus?”

Terelle didn’t have a quick comeback, but refusing to allow Marquise to diffuse her anger with his brand of logic, she emitted a loud disgusted sigh.

“Why you actin’ like it’s my fault shorty was all up in my grille? See, that’s why I gotta hurry up and get my own ride. Ridin’ the bus and listenin’ to you bitch every morning ain’t gittin’ it.”

“Oh! So, now…
you’re
gonna buy a car? When you were locked up,
we
were gonna buy a car.” She hated the sound of her own voice; she sounded insecure and unreasonable, but she was too angry to stop ranting.

“Where’s the fuckin’ bus?” Marquise bellowed, refusing to respond to Terelle’s accusing comment.

“Now, you’re gonna ignore me?” she asked with an uplifted brow.

Marquise nodded his head defiantly. “Do you know how crazy you sound? At first you was bitchin’ ’bout shorty on the bus; now I make a simple statement about our car…”

“
Our
car! I didn’t get it twisted; you were talkin’ about
your
car.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” he asked in a booming voice that everyone at the bus stop could hear.

“All right, calm down, Marquise,” Terelle said in a whisper. “Don’t make a scene in front of all these people.”

“Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down—you started this shit,” he said, shouting even louder, while furiously pointing at Terelle.

There was an empty forty-ounce bottle of malt liquor leaning against the base of a stop sign. Furious, Marquise kicked the bottle; it set sail, then smacked the asphalt, and shattered into crude, jagged pieces. The crowd of onlookers gasped in shock, then quickly looked away when Marquise jerked around and glared at them.

“Man, you makin’ me mad,” he said, poking out his lips. “Don’t nothin’ satisfy your ass. You expected me to fuck up while I was on house arrest, but I didn’t. And as bad as I needed some dough, I stayed outta the game. Are you satisfied? Hell no! Now, I’m tryin’ to play my position; I’m workin’ on that funky-ass job—workin’ doubles damn near every day and I still gotta hear your mouth.” Marquise was working himself up; he was so angry, the veins in his neck stood out. Terelle knew she had to calm him down.

“Quise, lower your voice or let’s talk about this later.” She spoke in a hushed tone.

“Fuck no! I ain’t lowerin’ a mothafuckin’ thing.” His voice grew louder. “You got the raps all early in the fuckin’ morning, so let’s rap.”

Terelle shot a mortified glance at the crowd, and then looked at the ground in silence.

“For your information, females be tryin’ to hollah at me all the time. Yeah, it’s like dat,” he responded to Terelle’s shocked expression. “They be tryin’ to throw pussy at me all day long…on the bus—at work—everywhere I go. But I don’t give ’em no play ’cause I know how to handle myself.” Marquise started pacing and breathing hard.

Work! Did he just say the bitches on the job were sweatin’ him
? Terelle was stunned. There were no secrets at The County Nursing Home; her co-workers knew she and Marquise were engaged. So, who the fuck was hittin’ on Marquise at work? Melanie would know; she knew all the gossip and she’d be more than happy to share that juicy information with Terelle. But there was going to be hell to pay the second Terelle found out which triflin’ hoe had the audacity to try to fuck up her relationship.

“You need to start playin’ your part, Terelle,” Marquise advised, breaking into her thoughts. “Think about it—who do I come home to every day? Who do I go to bed wit every night? And who’s wearin’ my ring?”

She wanted so badly to feel reassured that their relationship had a solid foundation, but knowing that women were coming at him from every direction, she found little comfort in his words. Her mind had traveled to the nursing home, roaming every floor, trying to figure out which back-stabbing bitches required a Southwest Philly-style ass-whoopin’.

“You gotta stop lettin’ these lonely-ass smut-jawns drive you the fuck crazy. Now, I’m through wit this subject.” The moment Marquise fired up another cigarette, the 15 bus pulled up.

All the seats on the bus were taken; Marquise stood behind Terelle. He held onto the back of a nearby seat with one hand and placed the other hand lovingly across Terelle’s shoulder, keeping her anchored as the bus rumbled along Girard Avenue.

Soothed by his touch and enjoying his public display of affection, Terelle leaned comfortably against Marquise and closed her eyes. Sensing suddenly that something was amiss, her eyes popped open. She instantly noticed a young woman sitting in the seat that faced the aisle. Long sandy-colored hair hung over her face, which was buried in a book. The alarmingly attractive young woman wore a short skirt that indecently exposed long, perfectly shaped legs. She was causing a commotion on the bus. All the male passengers were craning their necks to ogle her. Marquise was facing the woman, and Terelle figured he was also sweatin’ the hussy.

It was irrational, she knew, but she was furious with the sexily attired woman.

The woman looked up. But her eyes went past Terelle’s hateful gaze. She looked up—way up—in Marquise’s direction. And then her eyes sparkled—danced in delight. She blushed and looked back down. Fidgeting flirtatiously, she crossed her legs and looked up again. This time she smiled and moistened her lips provocatively.

Terelle wanted to fight! She swung around and gave Marquise an accusing scowl. He gave her a blank stare. The young woman, looking ever so innocent, uncrossed her legs, lowered her head and resumed reading.

Was it her imagination or were Marquise and the woman openly flirting? Constantly plagued by jealousy, Terelle was at her wit’s end. Somebody was going to get hurt if Marquise didn’t figure out a way to ensure Terelle’s peace of mind.

The woman closed the book, tugged at her skirt. She stood up at 29
^th
Street.

Terelle peeped the title:
All That Drama
by Tina Brooks McKinney. Terelle sucked her teeth. Let that bitch flutter her eyelashes up at Marquise one more time and she’d give her more drama than she could handle!

The behavior that Marquise regarded as harmless flirtation, Terelle considered blatant disrespect. And she had endured more than enough for one morning. Gritting on the woman, Terelle silently informed the heifer that if she made one false move, if she even cracked a hint of another smile in Marquise’s direction, she should prepare to get her ass kicked up and down the aisle. And neither Marquise nor any other well-meaning passenger would be able to pry Terelle’s hands from the bitch’s neck.

Taking Terelle’s unspoken advice, the woman shot to the front of the bus, pulling nervously on the hem of her too-damn-short skirt.

Feeling victorious, Terelle watched the hussy hastily depart the bus.