Sexual Healing (28 page)

Arabia gasped. Her cheeks heated, and she felt herself suddenly shaking from the inside out with anger. “Whom I'm
fucking
is
none
of your business, Eric!” she snapped defensively. Her teeth clenched. “It's over between us. Now don't call me again, or you will leave me no other choice but to file for a restraining order against you.”

And with that, she finally did what she should have done the minute she heard his voice on the other end of the line.

She disconnected the call.

Thirty

2006

“M
oody's bugging,” Cruze complained, and then bit into the messy cheesesteak he was holding in both hands.

Sameer had two sandwiches in front of him: a cheesesteak and a hoagi
e. He shook oregano over the Italian hoagie. “You eating free, ain't you? So stop complaining.”

Cruze stretched out his legs and scowled. “Man, fuck a free sandwich. Ain't we got enough delis right there in New York? I don't see why we had to drive all the way to Philly to get that big-belly nigga something
to eat. The way his gut's starting to stick out, he need to be thinking abou
t getting a gym membership instead of constantly stuffing his face.”

“Word,” Sameer agreed, chomping into the hoagie. “Mmph! This shi
t
bangin', though. You can't get a real Philly hoagie or cheesesteak nowhere
in New York.”

Frowning as he chewed, Cruze wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Why
can't you? There's a place over on—”

“Man, don't tell me you can't tell the difference between those knockoff cheesesteaks and the real thing?” Sameer cut his eye at a chick in tight jeans standing at the counter of the steak shop. “Plus, look at the
view. I ain't never had no Philly pussy before. 'Scuse me while I go holla
at shawty.” Sameer pushed his chair back.

Cruze checked the time on his phone. “Man, we on Moody's clock and
that nigga's timing us. So, you ain't got time to get a hotel and you ain't fucking the bitch in the car.”

Sameer looked offended. “Why not? It's my ride.”

“Man, I put money into them wheels, too. I ain't tryna ride all the way back to New York smelling pussy fumes mixed with stinkin' fried onions. Fuck that, man. Get the bitch's number and then get with her on your own time.”

“You ain't no fun no more, Cruze. Ever since shawty bounced, you been acting like a bitch on her period. Why you lettin' shawty stress you like that?”

“Ain't nobody stressed over no bitch. I'm fuckin' sick of Moody sending us on sucka missions, like we still corner boys. I thought he moved us up the ranks, but this here shit . . .” Rolling his eyes at the environment of the Philadelphia steak shop, Cruze let his voice trail off.

“I don't know about you, but I like being on Moody's payroll and getting a certain amount of paper that I can count on every week—plus bonuses. Niggas will be lining up to take your spot if you don't want it. So go on and hug the block again if that makes you feel like your own man.” Sameer shook his head disgustedly.

Cruze let Sameer's words sink in. He pushed his unfinished cheese
steak to the side. “I knew I shouldn't have ate this greasy bullshit. Now, my stomach starting to act up.”

“Damn. You startin' to sound like a lil' bitch, complaining about everything. I swear to God, if I had Ramona's number, I'd call her myself and beg her to please bring her stripper-ass back home.” Sameer burst into his trademark stupid giggle.

Cruze stood up abruptly, nearly toppling the table. “Ain't shit funny, muhfucka! Talk grimy about Ramona again, and I'ma fuck you up in this dip. I can't believe you took something I told you in confidence and threw it back in my face. Who else did you run your mouth to about Ramona strippin'?”

Sameer reared back, looking disgusted. “I ain't have to tell nobody, 'cause everybody around the way already knew. Niggas been throwing dollars at that ho for years.”

Cruze glared at Sameer. “She ain't a ho.”

“I don't see why you taking up for her when she dipped on you.”

“Whatever. Just keep her name outta ya mouth.”

Thirty minutes later, Cruze carried the box that contained six cheese-steaks back to the car. Brooding, he walked ahead of Sameer.

The drive back to New York was tension-filled. Sameer had started off telling corny jokes, trying to get Cruze out of his funk, but Cruze didn't feel like talking or laughing. Staring out the window, he sat in defiant silence.

He missed Ramona so bad, the pain was palpable. Sleeping alone was t
he worst, and nights like this when the pain felt particular acute, he felt
mad at the world. The thought of going back to his empty apartment made him feel like rolling his window down and retching. There were
plenty of bitches he could get with, but fucking anyone other than Ramona
made him miss her worse than he already did.

Love sucked. It was torture. His head hurt constantly and his heart beat erratically, like he had a cardiovascular condition. Every creak of the steps outside his apartment door was Ramona coming home, where she belonged. But when he swung his door open, he'd find one of the neighbors climbing the stairs, which would cause his heart to drop hard in disappointment.

Sometimes his heart hurt so bad, he felt like smoking some shit or sticking a needle in his arm. No wonder there were so many fiends in the world. Muhfuckas needed something to dull the excruciating pain of being lovesick.

Sameer's phone vibrated, pulling Cruze out of his dismal thoughts.
Sameer peeked at the screen and put it on speaker. “We on our way, Moody.”

“Y'all niggas should be halfway here by now,” Moody grumbled.

“Yeah, man. We close.”

“How close?” Moody demanded.

“Um . . .”

Cruze sat up in his seat. “Tell that bastard—”

“Shh!” Sameer held a finger to his lips. His desperate eyes beseeched C
ruze not to lose his temper and blow their cushy jobs. “Uh, we in North
Jersey right now, but we won't be long.”

“A'ight. Hurry the fuck up!” Moody disconnected the call.

Cruze twisted his lips to the side and shook his head. “Man, you one ass-kissing muhfucka, you know that?”

“Look who talkin',” Sameer shot back. “You should know all about it, the way you kiss that bitch's ass.”

Cruze narrowed his eyes threateningly. “I told you—”

“Fuck you, Cruze! You ain't gon' be talkin' shit about my manhood and think I'ma sit back and take it.”

“All I'm sayin' is you need to get off that nigga's dick.”

Sameer gave Cruze the finger and they drove the rest of the way in silence. As they neared the elegant home that Moody was leasing, Cruze sighed, again. “I'm sick of working for this black bastard. He living like a king and treating us like peons. We need to put our money together
and go out on our own. For real, Sameer. Something about Moody don't
rub me right. The shit he have us doin' . . . That nigga gon' fuck around and get us killed. My mom always told me—”

Sameer gave Cruze the side-eye. “I know you ain't go there—bringing
up something your moms said. You need to chill, nigga, and play your position.” Sameer got out of the car. “Be patient. Moody got big plans for us.”

“I bet,” Cruze said sarcastically. “He got plans for us to keep picking up
cheesesteaks for his greedy ass . . . and dumping bodies.”

Cruze opened the passenger's door.

Sameer held up his hand. “Nah, man. Stay in the car. The way you act
ing
, you might fuck around and say something to Moody that'll make
him send our asses back to the block.” Sameer slammed the door and strolled to Moody's doorstep with the box of cheesesteaks tucked under his arm.

Sameer was right and so Cruze stayed in the ride and leaned his seat back further. To pass time, he perused the CDs in the console of the car. Then, hearing a familiar voice, he sat up suddenly and craned his neck in the direction of Moody's front door, and his eyes nearly popped out of
his head. Standing in the doorway, accepting the box of cheesesteaks from
Sameer was none other than Ramona. What was his fuckin' girl—well
, his ex-girl. Whatever the fuck she was—what was she doing at Moody's crib dressed in a sheer robe?

Before Cruze realized what he was doing, he was out the car, slipping on damp grass as he raced to get to the front door. He had no idea what he planned to do, but punching Ramona in the face and then wrapping his hands around her neck was at the top of the list. He'd stomp Moody's brains out after he strangled the life out of that no-good, cheating-ass, stripper-bitch whore!

Mid-rush toward the front door, Cruze suddenly felt like he'd run into a brick wall. He hit the ground hard. It took a moment to come to his senses and when he did, he discovered Sameer on top of him. He'd
forgotten that fuckin' Sameer had played football in school and the muh
f
ucka had tackled the shit out of him, knocking the breath out of his body
.

“Get it together, Cruze. You gon' get us killed over that bitch, and she ain't worth it, man.”

“I'ma kill her,” Cruze gasped, trying to catch his breath. “I can't believ
e she did me like this,” he gurgled. “And that dirty nigga, Moody! Out of all the bitches he could have, why'd he have to take my girl?”

“I don't know, man. I had no idea about him and Ramona. But I ain't
tryna lose my life over no stripper and you shouldn't, either. Come on. Get up and get the fuck back in the car before we both wind up at the bottom of the Hudson.”

Sameer gave Cruze a hand and pulled him to his feet. The world spun
fast and Cruze teetered, unable to keep his balance. Sameer helped hold
him up as Cruze staggered and limped toward the car. With a hand over
his chest, it appeared that he'd been shot in the heart and critically wounded.

• • •

Ramona ran her hand over the waves in Cruze's hair, and he closed his eyes blissfully, grateful that it wasn't a dream. She was really at the crib, taking care of him. When Sameer got word to her that Cruze was sick as a dog and hadn't been showing up for work, she came to their old apartment to see about him.

And after fucking him back to good health, she began putting on her clothes, ready to bounce.

Cruze squeezed his eyes closed, unable to watch her as she prepared to leave him all alone, again.

“Where's my other heel?” Ramona asked, peeking under the bed. Her v
oice and noisy movement around the bedroom were making it impossible
for Cruze to gather the inner peace he was trying to find.

Agitated, his eyes popped open. “Just answer one question, Mo. Why dat
ugly nigga?”

Ramona let out a sigh. “You know why. I already told you I'm only with
him for what he can do for me. But my heart is still with you, Cruze. I
promise I'm gonna make sure you move up the ranks in the organization
. Moody's gon' personally groom you. Trust me, babe. One day me and you
are gon' be running the show.” She hovered over him and caressed his arm.

Cruze shrank from her touch and glowered at her. “Yeah, right—tell me anything.”

“I'm serious. After you become second in command, we'll get rid of Moody . . . somehow. I haven't figured out all the details, but—”

Cruze sucked his teeth. “Man, get the fuck outta here with that Scarface
bullshit. How we gon' get rid of Moody? You been watching too many gangster flicks.”

“Look, we in a good position with me working from the inside. I'm
working for us to have a better future, and I know what I'm doing.” She
sat on the bed and clenched his chin, forcing him to look in her eyes. “I got this. Do you hear me?”

Cruze yanked his head away, pulling his chin out of her grasp. “All I hear is that you left me for Moody. Out of all the bitches in the world, I can't understand why that bastard had to take my girl.”

“He didn't know about us. I told him you were like a little brother to me.”

Her words hit like a harsh slap and Cruze flinched from the impact. “A little brother, huh? Wow.” Heart crashing against his ribcage, he reached for the half-blunt in the ashtray next to the bed and lit it. His throat burned and his eyes watered as he held the smoke in his lungs.

“You're making shit more difficult than it has to be. Be patient and trust me, okay?” Ramona took the blunt from Cruze's fingers and puffed on it.

Cruze blew out a thick cloud of smoke and glared at Ramona. “How could I ever trust you, again? This shit you doin' ain't right, Mo.”

“Since when you got so many morals? As long as we get what we want
,
you shouldn't be worried about what's right or wrong,” Ramona snapped
.

“I'm talking about what you doin' to me!” he snapped. “That's the shit
that ain't right.”

Ramona abruptly stood up. “Grow up, Cruze. Can you please start looking at the big picture?”

“No! I'm not trying to get rich or die trying. All I need is you. I love you, girl. Why can't you understand that? I don't give a fuck about all that other shit you talkin'. I just want shit to be back like it's supposed to be—you and me, together. You ain't supposed to be with him!”