On the Run with Love (14 page)

Freddie pulled up to their townhouse off Wayne Memorial Drive. It was a ritzy spot tucked away on the outskirts of Goldsboro, very different from the shack they'd occupied when they first arrived. He liked the apartment, but his extravagant taste that always stayed one step ahead of his pockets had him thinking about an eighteen-room mansion, and pushing a Maybach or an Azure. The money was good, but he wanted more.

He looked at Simone's empty parking space and checked his watch. He knew she had gone to the salon, but she was usually back by now. And since Kiki was on her honeymoon with Slug, he wondered where she could be.

Freddie came and went erratically, but Simone was like clockwork. He went inside to fix himself a bite to eat and get some sleep. While Slug was away, he was handling the operation, a fact he definitely wasn't feeling. It wasn't like he was on the block scrambling, but he hated handling packages, and delivering and picking up money. That was Slug's job according to their agreement, and he intended to check Slug about it when he returned.

Inside, Freddie browsed the refrigerator. Everything in it that he wanted needed to be cooked, and Simone had him so lazy he didn't feel like cooking. So he went into the living room, sat down on the couch, and called Simone on her cell phone. It rang four times before she answered it.

“Hello,” she stated flatly.

“Ay, Sim—”

Click. The phone went dead and all that could be heard was a dial tone.

Freddie looked at the phone strangely thinking they must have had a bad connection. He pressed the speed dial again. This time the phone rang eight times, and Simone didn't answer at all. Something was wrong. He knew he'd heard Simone's voice, and he knew he had dialed right because he was using the speed dial. This time he dialed the number himself.

Simone had driven in circles for almost half an hour before finding her way to Wilson to get on I-95 North. The first time her phone rang, she knew it was Freddie, and she was all set to flip on him until she heard his voice. She felt that same sickness from before, but she felt something else, too: weakness. She felt like her heart was dangling like a puppet on a string, and hearing Freddie's voice made it jerk and spasm so she hung up. The second time, she refused to answer the phone. Instead she counted every ring until it stopped and she could breathe again. The third time it rang, she didn't want to answer and she refused in her mind to answer. But she answered anyway; she just didn't speak.

“Hello?” Freddie spoke into the phone, but she still didn't say anything. “Simone? Yo, Simone. You there?”

“What do you want, Freddie?” Her voice was ice cold and Freddie could feel the chill through the fiber optics.

“Whoa, what the deal? You okay?” he asked, but knew she wasn't.

“I'm leaving, Freddie,” was all she replied.

Freddie jumped off the couch. “Leaving? What are you talkin' about? Where you goin'? Why you leavin', boo? What the hell is—”

“I'm leaving you, Freddie!” she screamed into the mouthpiece, cutting him off. “Don't worry about where I'm going!”

“Hold up, hold up!” Freddie's head was spinning and he felt sick. Despite his foolish behavior and player ways, Simone truly was his heart. He was crazy with fear not knowing where she was and having no way to see her at that point. “Please, baby, let's talk! Please! Where you at?”

“Congratulations.”

“Huh?”

“I said congratulations. I saw Tina and it turns out that I'm not the only one who's . . .” She couldn't even say the word. Just thinking about it clouded her vision so badly she had to pull over to the side of the road. “Freddie, why are you doing this to me?” she asked with so much pain and anguish it brought tears to Freddie's eyes. “What did I do to deserve this, Freddie? Didn't I love you? Didn't I?”

“Boo.”
Damn,
he thought. This was definitely serious. “Simone, listen to me. I swear to you, ma, Tina is a fuckin' liar! I ain't fuckin' her, boo, I swear.” Freddie was lying through his teeth. But if a lie was going to keep the only true thing in his life, so be it.

“Freddie, you're lying!” she cried, but wanted desperately to believe him.

“Simone, I swear to you, baby! That bitch see what we got, all those bitches see what we got, and they'll do anything to break up our home, boo, to ruin what we've worked so hard to build! Together! Don't let them succeed, baby, don't let them succeed! We a family, and I don't want my son to grow up without a father like we did!” Freddie tried to persuade her. Neither he nor Simone ever knew their fathers, and they had vowed that when they had a child, they wouldn't let that happen. He thought about what his aunt had said about his father and felt a sickening sense of déjà vu, wondering if his father had gone through this same thing with his mother.

“And I don't want my baby growing up with a triflin'-ass nigga for a daddy!” Simone retorted between sobs.

“Come back, Simone!”

“No!”

“Please, baby! Don't let it end this way!”

“It's over, Freddie!” she said, not even convincing herself.

“Then I'm comin' to Jersey! I know that's where you're going and I'm coming, come what may! Even if I gotta sleep on your porch!” Freddie said.

“Then you going to jail!”

“What else I got, if I lose you?” It was the only real thing he had said during the whole conversation.

Simone looked at the blue interstate sign beckoning her: I-95 North.
Home
.

“Please, Simone! Come back! Please!”

The strings to her heart jerked and twisted, and reluctantly she gave in.

As soon as Freddie hung up the phone, his pain turned to rage. He was too far gone to try to convince himself that he'd try to change his ways, but he was gonna check these bitches.

Tina saw Freddie's number on her caller ID. She picked up, already talking. “Freddie, listen, I—”

“What the fuck you tell Simone you pregnant by me for?” If Tina had been standing in front of him, he would have choked her.

“I am!” Tina yelled.

“That shit ain't mine!” he cussed her.

His comment kinda hurt Tina. “It could be! And why my baby gotta be shit, Freddie?”

Freddie laughed. “'Cause you don't even want it! Ain't you 'posed to be havin' an abortion?” he reminded her.

“I don't know now! I might just keep it!” she said, wishing she hadn't told Freddie she might not keep it and hating even more that he had thrown it in her face.

“Word up, Tina, don't get this shit twisted. Either play your position or leave it for somebody who can. Simone is my wife and we just got a beautiful understanding. Don't let your feelings fuck that up!” Freddie warned.

“Whatever,” she replied, sucking her teeth.

“So what you gonna do? 'Cause I ain't for all this drama, yo,” Freddie said, laying it down.

“I said whatever. You just better check that bitch, 'cause if she come in my face again—”

“Look, fuck all that! I gotta handle some shit, yo. You got some money?”

Tina didn't respond.

“Tina!”

“I ain't cash my check yet,” she said, sucking her teeth again.

Freddie checked his watch, trying to time Simone's return. “I'll be through there, a'ight?”

“When?”

“Just be there.”

Freddie hung up. Her little short-ass check wasn't nothing to Freddie, but it was the principle. She had violated, and she had to get broke, literally. One of them trick-ass niggas she was fucking was gonna have to pay her bills this month because Freddie was going to claim every dime she had.

* * *

Simone walked into the house an hour later to find it full of flowers and balloons. The sweet fragrance of the assorted blooms filled the air, but she smelled nothing. Freddie came out of the bedroom, smiling as he approached, but Simone felt nothing. She was just numb, drained of what once seemed utterly important. Even the glow of her pregnancy had diminished, like the sun hiding behind thick, gray clouds.

Freddie took her left hand and produced a black ring box. He opened it to reveal a $5,000 diamond ring. Its sparkle hit the dead iris of her eye; she didn't react at all. Freddie gently slid the huge rock on her finger.

“I know you confused, baby, but I swear you all I need, all I want. I told you I'd get you another ring, and I pray you know it comes from my heart.”

Freddie placed his hand on the back of Simone's neck and kissed her. Her tongue tangled with his out of reflex, not desire. He slid her shirt up and kissed her swollen belly, his tongue probing her belly button. Then he carried her to the bedroom where he'd covered the bed with rose petals. He got undressed and took Simone into his embrace, but she felt nothing. She wasn't even wet. Freddie had to use his tongue to lubricate her, and while he was inside her, she remained numb.

He collapsed on top of her, kissing her gently. “I love you, Simone.”

The next morning, Freddie awoke to the strange feeling that he was being watched. He rolled his head around and saw Simone sitting on the bed watching him. She was wearing a white nightgown, and was leaning against the headboard with a pillow in her lap. Her face wore no expression.

“Good mornin', ma,” he greeted her, and kissed her on the knee because it was the closest part of her to him.

“Morning.”

“You okay? You sick or something?” Freddie asked, not feeling quite right.

She shook her head but kept looking at him.

Yo, shorty buggin'
. “Then why you lookin' at me like that?

“Does it make you nervous or something? I can't look at you? I can't look at my man?” she inquired sarcastically, the timbre of her voice a little cracked.

She need some space
. He rose up and kissed her on the nose. “Nervous? For what? Yo, you hungry? I'ma fix you something to eat, a'ight?” Freddie offered, finding a reason to get out of the room. He got up, brushed the rose petals from his naked body, threw on a pair of shorts, and exited the room.

Simone sat back against the headboard and sighed. She slid her hand from under the pillow and looked down at the large chef's knife in her grip. She examined her own reflection in it.

She had been staring at the scratches on Freddie's back. Many were faint, but she could tell that two, now scarred over, had been deep enough to draw blood. They formed a perfect T.
“That ‘T' I scratched in his back!”
Tina's voice echoed in her head. Simone had wanted to plunge the knife deep into his back and leave scars of her own. She envisioned herself stabbing him for every scratch. But when she held the knife above her head, she froze and couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to hurt him, couldn't bring herself to cause him pain, even though her heart was filled with pain he had caused. She thought of the I-95 North sign and knew she could never leave him either. Simone felt trapped. While Freddie was running to escape incarceration, she had run into one. Her love had become her prison.

Slug returned from his honeymoon feeling refreshed and relaxed. Cancun and Hawaii had been lovely. He had never seen water so clear, so beautifully blue. The only water he was used to were pissy public pools or the polluted saline of Myrtle or Atlantic Beach. He had heard on TV about the soothing sounds of the waves, but thought that was just TV shit until he and Kiki sat on the beaches, watching the sunset, their bodies wrapped around each other intimately.

* * *

That was the mentality Slug came back with: not necessarily trying to get out of the game, but knowing he needed to. As soon as he hit town, the serenity melted away under the scorching ghetto sun. He was back to the alert street nigga the streets had molded him into.

Slug cruised the Boro in his restored '72 Cadillac Eldorado convertible. It was pearl white, an exact duplicate of Boss Hogg's Caddy from
The Dukes of Hazzard
except for the gold Daytons. He'd had it restored while he was on his honeymoon, and he picked it up when he returned. Everything was normal. Money was straight and he was on his way to see Freddie, to have the talk with him that he had been putting off.

They agreed to meet in Herman Park where cats congregated and played ball. By the time Slug arrived, Freddie was already there running on a three-on-three pickup game. Slug didn't come to ball; he came to chill. He got out of the big Yak with his white Kangol cap tilted, sporting a Carolina blue wife beater, white shorts, and a pair of Carolina blue And Ones with no laces. He leaned against the gleaming Caddy, shaking hands and smacking asses that came within range.

“You better stop, Slug,” flirted one delectable cinnamon sister in a pair of coochie cutters, “before I tell Kiki.” She smiled.

“Shit, you don't even believe that,” Slug replied. “She might whoop your ass just for tellin' her.” He chuckled and watched her ass wiggle away.

Freddie finished his game and approached Slug dripping with sweat. “What the deal, cuz?” Slug dapped him.

“Ain't nuttin'. You?”

“I'm chillin',” Freddie replied.

“Yeah?” Slug smirked like he knew something.

“Yeah,” Freddie repeated, a little defensive. “‘Fuck so funny?”

“What's this I hear about Tina being pregnant and telling Simone it's yours?”

Freddie wiped his face with his shirt. “Bullshit, yo. Ain't nothin' to it.”

“You sure?”

Freddie felt like Slug was interrogating him. “What the fuck, yo? Yeah, I'm sure.”

Slug lit up a Newport, took a drag, and exhaled smoke through his nose. “Look, cuz, you need to check yourself. Shit—”

“Check myself? What—”

Slug cut in, “Listen to me. I been meaning to holla at you on the real. Ain't nothin' like a woman if she get it in her mind to get you fucked up. And Simone know too much about you, too much about what's poppin' wit' us, for you to be lettin' these chickenheads blow up your spot, cuz.”

Freddie nodded. “I know and I feel you. But like I said, it's straight,” he assured him.

“Naw, it ain't, 'cause you still fuckin' wit' Tina. And I'm tellin' you, cuz, that bitch is conniving. Her M.O. is settin' niggas up.”

“Fuck I look like, Slug. A lame? You think I'ma let a bitch rock me to sleep?” Freddie prided himself on how he handled women, and he felt like Slug was questioning his expertise.

Slug blew a stream of smoke into the air. “Nigga, you ain't gotta be a lame. A woman can rock any nigga to sleep if he slip.”

“You sayin' I'm slippin'?”

Slug took a step closer to Freddie and softened his tone. “Freddie, look around you. You don't see it, but you makin' enemies. Broads ain't the only ones who catch feelins'; niggas do too. And you runnin' up in niggas' girls and baby mamas. You settin' us up for some ol' circus drama we don't need.”

“Man, fuck that! Let these bitch-ass niggas catch feelin's, son! They want it, they can get it.” Freddie's voice boomed and caused a few heads to turn in their direction. “You worry about yours; let me worry about mine! Matter of fact, you need to handle your muthafuckin' business and remember your position!”

Slug was taken aback by the word. “Position?” he echoed.

“Position. Honeymoon or no honeymoon, the grind is your responsibility. I don't touch shit. Don't forget the hand that feeds you, nigga! Wit'out me, you'd still be a nickel-ass nigga!”

By now, the attention of half the park was on Slug and Freddie so they were locked in. And neither of their egos would let them back down. Slug tossed his cigarette aside and pulled his shorts out of the sag he wore them in. “First off, young'un, you talkin' to a grown-ass man so lower your muhfuckin' tone. Second, don't try to shine on me 'cause you can't check yo' bitch, nigga.” Slug spoke with force but didn't raise his voice.

Freddie threw a quick left hook that caught Slug behind his right ear. He dazed him but didn't drop him, and Slug threw up his southpaw. He shot Freddie a furious flurry that used all of his boxing skills, dipping and dodging, and throwing a straight right that busted Freddie's lip. A crowd had gathered around the two cousins going blow for blow, toe to toe, until Slug got up under Freddie, scooped him, and slammed him onto the hood of Shak's Benz 500 series.

“Ay, yo, hold the fuck up!” Shak protested as he and A.B. rushed to break up the fight because they were on his car.

They struggled to pull them apart, A.B. grabbing Slug, and Shak restraining Freddie. “Y'all niggas chill! Y'all family!” A.B. barked.

They finally got the two men apart; they had been locked tighter than two red-nosed pit bulls. They huffed and puffed, glaring at each other, Freddie with a busted lip and Slug with a bleeding nose.

“Nigga, we can do this all night,” Slug said, winded, with his hands on his knees. “That still won't change the fact that you slippin', cuz. If you gonna play, play. Just don't let these tricks play you.” Slug stood up, dropped his shorts back in his sag, got in his car, and drove off.