Authors: Allison Hobbs
T
he height of fashion, Saleema stepped inside Terelle’s Kingsessing Avenue apartment draped from head to toe in leather and fur: fox head wrap; cream-colored leather coat with a big fox collar; chocolate leather pants with an outside slit that was trimmed in a light-colored fur; and two-toned chocolate and cream leather ankle boots. “Ta-da,” she sang, announcing her entrance with outstretched arms before striking a dramatic pose. She and Terelle burst into laughter. Both could recall the days when Saleema’s wardrobe was selected from huge plastic bags donated by the neighborhood Baptist church. Saleema had come a long way.
“Where’s Keeta?”
“Sleep, thank God. And please don’t wake her up.”
“Girl, you gonna scream when you see all the phat shit I bought Keeta for Christmas. And I ain’t wrapping none of it, ’cause I want all her gear spread out and displayed under the tree. I went to the toddler department in Strawbridge’s and went buck wild. My girl is gonna be rockin’ designer everything: shoes, undershirts, dresses, coats, jackets, jeans, hoodies—everything. And I found her the cutest little Timberlands at Footlocker in the Gallery. I ain’t finished yet. I’m gonna put Keeta’s cute little butt in some Baby Phat jeans. Couldn’t find none in her size in Philly, but somebody told me I could find them in New York.” Saleema gazed at Terelle thoughtfully. “I ain’t even got started on her toys yet; I’ll probably get her toys in New York, too.”
“Keeta don’t need nothin’ else, Saleema,” Terelle said in weak protest.
“Hmph. My godbaby ain’t gonna be looking like no ragamuffin. She gonna stay fly just like me.”
“I gotta give you your props; you really look good, Saleema. Where you on your way to? You gotta be on your way to someplace fly like P. Diddy’s club in New York—you look too good to be hanging in Philly.” Terelle paused to touch the butter-soft leather coat. “Where’d you get your coat?”
“Saks,” Saleema said proudly. “You know I live in that store. All the money I spend up in there, they need to give a sistah some stock.”
“What size is it? A three?” Terelle frowned.
“Naw, I’m in a size five now. Good living—eating good, girl.”
“I get mad just thinking about all those fly clothes you don’t even wear. So just keep on eating, girl,” Terelle said playfully. “Come on up to my size so I can rock some of your gear.”
“Hell no, I ain’t putting on another pound. Bad for business. You better come on down to my size.”
“Chile, Marquise would flip if I lost weight. He loves seeing my hips filling out a size ten.”
Saleema’s eyes became slits. “Marquise ain’t got room to be flippin’ about nothin’—not with all the debt he got you in. Thank God Keeta got me for a godmother. If I didn’t come through, her little butt would be wearing clothes from Wal-Mart—her feet would be all squeezed up in some Payless shoes.”
“Don’t go there, Saleema. And I’m not in debt.”
“Hmph. No? Then you livin’ above your means paying the phone company damn near a dub a day just to talk to a nigga. And now that you ain’t got no nighttime babysitter, I know you can’t work no more overtime. So, how you still payin’ for his calls? I sure hope you don’t let that nigga get your phone cut off.”
“Saleema!” Terelle said sharply. “His name is Marquise—not
That Nigga!
My mother, my grandmother, all of my so-called friends…everybody thinks it’s their right to make me feel bad about my relationship with Marquise. But you’re supposed to be my girl—ever since the first grade. If anybody understands me and knows how I feel, it’s supposed to be you.”
“You’re right,” Saleema said, looking contrite. Her smile appeared pained. “My bad. I just get so mad when I think about all that nigga—I mean, Marquise done put you through. I just don’t wanna see you get hurt no more.”
“I got this, Saleema. I know what I’m doing. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Saleema nodded in agreement, but her sorrowful eyes contradicted the movement of her head. “I gotta go,” she said as she checked her Fendi link watch. “And…to answer your question, I’m meeting one of my regulars in a half-hour. Remember Dave, the white trick from Swarthmore? We met at Pandora’s Box—now I see him on the outside.”
“The one who bought you the platinum necklace?”
“No, that’s Ralph. I don’t fuck with him like that no more. He got too possessive.”
“Girl, be careful. You know I worry about you hanging around with all those freakish white men you meet at work. If you have to do that kind of work, why don’t you just see them at Pandora’s? At least it’s safe there.”
“Safe!” Saleema snorted. “The manager got popped a couple years ago by two knuckleheads and you think Pandora’s Box is safe?”
“You know what I mean. Didn’t the owner beef up security after that?”
“Yeah, right. That bitch put in a Brinks alarm system to protect her money. But we ain’t no safer than we was before.”
“So why do you work somewhere that’s so dangerous?”
“The world is dangerous. I take my chances. Shit, I could get robbed steppin’ outta my truck coming here to see you. The way niggas be foaming at the mouth…checkin’ out Jezzy…it’s a wonder ain’t nobody tried to jack me for my ride.”
Jezzy was the nickname Saleema had given her white Ford Expedition. The vanity plate read: JEZEBEL.
“Look, Pandora’s be keepin’ my pockets full, but I ain’t always in the mood to be breakin’ that bitch off. I’m not tryin’ to give the owner half my dough every time I get a session. Gabrielle already got a Rolls-Royce and a mansion. I’m still tryin’ to get mine, ya dig?”
“No. I worry about you, Saleema. Another thing, why are all your customers white? They the ones who be doin’ all that weird shit. Don’t you date any of the black men that come through?”
“Hmph! Niggas be gettin’ into some wild shit, too. What about them two snipers down South. Uh-huh! Anyway, brothas ain’t feelin’ me. They don’t want my black ass. All they wanna do is git wit them high-yella bitches; I’m too dark and too thin for niggas so I stick with the muthafuckers who appreciate this chocolate candy bar.” Saleema swiveled and smoothed her hands from her fur hat down to her leather pants. “The white man loves to pay my rent and the note on my truck. And I loves to let ’em.”
“Just be careful, okay?”
“I’m straight. Let some nut even think about comin’ at me all crazy…I’d whoop so much ass, that muthafucker would be beggin’ for mercy. But, then again, knowin’ how twisted them tricks can be, he might enjoy the ass whoopin’ I put on ’em, and then I’d have to charge him extra,” Saleema said, shoulders shaking with laughter.
“All right, Saleema. I know you think you all gangsta, but how your little ass gonna stop a man from hurting you?”
Saleema winked. “I never leave home without my piece. No baby, my piece goes wherever I go. I ain’t playing with these dumb ass niggas or crackas. Let somebody try to come at me or try to jack my ride and I’m gonna blast that pussy without even blinkin’.”
“Whatchu sayin’? You gotta gun?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Saleema unzipped her Fendi bag and revealed a small silver gun.
“Damn, it’s kinda cute—pretty,” Terelle admitted in awe. “Never thought I’d see a pretty gun.”
Saleema extended the hand holding the gun. “Wanna hold it?” she asked devilishly.
Terelle backed up. “Hell no, you know I don’t mess with guns. Too scared.”
Saleema shook her head in pity. “You’d get over that fear right quick if your life or Keeta’s life was at stake.”
“I won’t have to protect us; that’s Marquise’s job,” Terelle said with pride. “When Marquise gets home, I’m just gonna sit back and let him handle things.”
“I’d like to know how he gonna protect somebody, walking around with a damn bracelet around his ankle?” Saleema burst out laughing and Terelle, despite herself, laughed, too. “How far can he go with that thing keepin’ check on his movements? If a nigga dragged you outta the front door, what Marquise gonna do? Huh?”
Terelle shrugged, looking amused. “I guess he gonna have to chase a nigga down.”
“Won’t that black box start squealing if he tries to leave this apartment?”
“Girl, I don’t know. I think a red light will come on if he goes out of range. But under special circumstances, like him having to defend me, I’m sure he won’t get in any trouble.”
“Please! Who you think is gonna believe he left the apartment to defend your honor? They’ll lock that ass up so quick…” Saleema paused in thought and didn’t finish the sentence. “Then, they’ll turn around and make him serve the rest of his back time.”
“Damn, Saleema.” Terelle was no longer feeling amused. “How we go from my fear of guns to you disrespecting Marquise for the second time since you been here?”
“My bad,” Saleema said with a snicker. “Seriously. I’m sorry.” Saleema kissed Terelle’s cheek.
“I gotta go. Dave keeps a thick wad in his pocket.” She gestured the thickness by stretching her thumb and index finger. “Cash, credit cards…the whole nine. And I don’t want him to even think about peeling off one dollar before I get there.” Saleema pulled out her car keys and a narrow bank envelope. “Here, here’s a little something to put on that phone bill.”
“Saleema, you don’t have to…”
“Hush, girl. Just like you said…we go back to elementary school and I know your proud ass like I know the back of my hand. You’d go hungry before you’d ask anybody to help you.”
Instead of responding, Terelle looked down at the kitchen tiles.
“By the way, when did they say Marquise can come home?”
“Any day. That’s all they’ve been telling me. They’re waiting for a monitor to free up. Those damn people got my life on hold—for real.”
“Don’t worry. Quise will be home raising hell before you know it. Give me a call tomorrow, okay?”
Nodding, Terelle opened the door for her friend. “Thanks, Saleema,” Terelle’s voice cracked. “I mean it. Thanks.” Her body sagged, giving her a world-weary appearance.
Saleema kissed at the air. “Smooches. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Terelle said in a whisper and closed the door. She treaded to the living room, placed the unopened envelope on the coffee table and flopped down on the futon.
She tried to choke back the tears, but couldn’t. Saleema was so good to her, but she was so tired of being a charity case. She ached for Marquise—for his support—his strong shoulders to lean on. Tears spilled over as she curled up on the futon to wait for Marquise’s call.
H
er cell phone rang during her workout at the gym. Drenched in perspiration, she dismounted the stair climber, threw a towel around her neck and went to a quiet corner near the entrance where reception would be better.
“Have you lost your mind completely?” Kenneth boomed.
“Is something wrong, Kenneth?” Kai asked innocently, as she rubbed the towel over her damp hair.
“I should have never gotten involved with you. You’re beyond unstable but so beautifully packaged, who would have guessed you’re psychotic?”
“Would you mind telling me what you’re talking about?”
“Don’t feign innocence, Kai. It’s beneath you and extremely insulting to me. That little stunt of yours didn’t work. My wife never opened that damn package. I did!”
Kai felt instantly deflated.
“And you can rest assured that I won’t give you another opportunity to wreak havoc upon my home life. We’re finished, Kai. Do you hear me? Finished!”
“Kenneth, I don’t know what…”
“Stop it, Kai. Please. You’re a dangerous, deranged young woman,” he said slowly. “You’re in desperate need of professional help and I swear I’ll press charges if you ever harass…”
“You’ll press charges, will you?” she exclaimed in a voice so loud it surprised her. “Did it ever occur to you that I could file sexual harassment charges against you, Dr. Harding?” Her voice was now a soft whisper. “The last time I checked, you’re the one in a position of authority at the nursing home; I’m just a lowly social worker, so tell me who would be judged as being in the best position to harass whom?”
“If you feel you were harassed, then by all means, sue me. Your claims won’t stand up in a court of law. We started our personal relationship long before you began employment at the nursing home. So be my guest; initiate litigation and see how quickly your case is dismissed.”
Kai grinned at the telephone. “You can use that reverse psychology on one of the little nursing dimwits who think so highly of you. I’m definitely going to file charges and Kenneth, darling—I’m definitely going to win. And throughout the procedure, I’m going to have a grand old time exposing your sexual deviancy in front of your wife and colleagues,” Kai taunted.
Dr. Harding snorted. “Your threats bore me almost as much as you do.”
Kai winced.
“Grow up, Kai; stop this juvenile behavior. It’s so unbecoming. And I reiterate—get yourself some help, kiddo.”
“Kiddo!”
Kai spat, deeply offended. “Is my behavior as unbecoming as your behavior when I have to put up with your futile efforts in keeping your limp dick from slipping out of my pussy?” Kai’s voice grew louder. “You want me to grow up? Why don’t you try growing a dick that can stay hard? And I strongly recommend that you get
yourself
some goddamn help for your chronic erectile dysfunction.” She was so angry, screaming and sputtering, she was barely coherent. “I should sue you for being such an abominably bad fuck.” Then in a calm tone, she added, “See you in court, Doc.” She clicked off the cell phone.
But, despite her haughty tone and below-the-belt jabs, Kai was shaken. She’d gone too far this time. Said things she couldn’t take back. Kenneth did have erection problems, but not all the time. Why did she stoop to attacking his manhood? She didn’t want to lose Kenneth. She loved him—well at least needed him. Acceptance and validation by the wealthy, prominent, blue-eyed, and blond-haired Dr. Harding was very necessary to her self-esteem as well as reinforcing her connection to her Caucasian heritage.
She just wanted to teach him a lesson—show him how much his dishonesty and lack of attention upset her. She’d never dreamed he’d actually end the relationship.
Why would he be interested in keeping that wilting and matronly wife of his when he could have her? She’d seen his wife; the woman’s beauty and figure (if she’d ever possessed such attributes) had obviously dissipated years ago. The old girl had seen better days and was now falling apart. And neither makeup nor a trillion visits to the hair salon was going to change her frumpy image. It was absolutely ludicrous for Kenneth to even want to remain attached to his dowdy wife.
Despite the discouraging developments, she knew one thing with certainty: she wouldn’t think of allowing Kenneth to dump her over a silly little photograph or a few thoughtless words. She’d invested entirely too much time to just roll over and bow out gracefully for the sake of his stupid marriage. No, she was not giving up Dr. Kenneth Harding.
She’d think of some clever maneuver that would immediately rectify this disastrous situation.
Her mind drifted back to that night—a night of unusually good sex with Dr. Kenneth Harding. Kenneth’s typical post-sexual behavior was to hold and cuddle with Kai for a few obligatory moments and then dash to the shower, dress and leave. But that night, he’d fallen asleep. As he slept, she had photographed herself nude beneath his lab coat.
She had intended to surprise him with the photo—a sexy keepsake for his eyes only. But, he’d slept so deeply, Kai couldn’t resist the opportunity of snooping in his archaic daily planner and then jotting down pertinent information. For the life of her, she didn’t know why he hadn’t upgraded to a Palm Pilot. If she’d had a copy machine handy, she’d have photocopied his itinerary for the entire year. Funny, there was no mention of his Caribbean vacation—that week had been left blank. Didn’t matter. That was the past. She knew exactly where he’d be tonight.
Bursting with excitement at the thought of getting the elusive Dr. Kenneth Harding back in her bed where he belonged, Kai cruised into the Old City section of Philadelphia and pulled into a parking lot on the corner of Third and Market Streets. Before exiting her Benz, she sat with her thighs squeezed together as she waited for the internal sexual throbbing to subside.
Two Haitian parking attendants smiled widely. “My eyes are having a feast,” said one of the men in a voice loud enough for Kai to hear.
Kai interpreted his words, intended to compliment, as disrespectful. The whites of the man’s eyes were discolored, rather yellowish, and she was offended that eyes such as his were feasting upon her. Her tight lips spread into a disgusted smirk as she tossed her car keys to him.
“A beautiful woman steps out of such a fine-looking automobile,” the man continued, unaware that he had repelled her. “I must be in heaven.” Both men chuckled good-naturedly, expecting a smile or some type of acknowledgment from Kai. She wanted to slap the insipid smiles off their primitive faces.
Remembering she had no time for justifiable violence, Kai haughtily flipped her hair from the back of her coat, and strode past the disappointed attendants. The slender heels of her black calfskin shoe boots clicked purposefully across the asphalt parking lot.
“Dinner?” the hostess of the upscale restaurant asked.
“No, I’d like to sit at the bar.” Kai walked across the room and perched atop a barstool. Music played softly in the background. She ordered an Apple Martini and impatiently watched the door.
Working Dinner at 8—Cuba Libre Restaurant, Old City
was what she had copied from his daily planner. She wondered with whom he had planned to dine? Some pharmaceutical salesperson? His accountant? It didn’t matter; Kai was prepared to display her anguish publicly. She’d shed buckets of tears, fall into his arms, cling to him and beg his forgiveness—she’d do whatever was necessary to get Kenneth to forego his dinner plans and leave the restaurant with her. They could pick up something to eat on the way back to her apartment.
And once she had him inside her boudoir, she would dig deeply into her ample bag of sex tricks so that Kenneth would be left with no choice but to forgive and forget. This was an excellent plan, Kai decided, with the element of surprise on her side. It was a brilliant plan, in fact—though it hadn’t been her first choice. She would have preferred having an opportunity to appease his anger over the phone, but he hadn’t returned any of her calls. Pity. Kenneth detested public scenes and would go to any lengths to avoid drawing adverse attention.
Well, he was about to get a doozie of a scene. As soon as her theatrics commenced, he’d whisk her out of there and then she’d have him in her clutches—in private. Then he’d be nothing more than putty in her hands.
Kai had just turned the glass of the second Apple Martini up to her lips when she heard Kenneth’s baritone voice: “Dinner for two.” She whirled around so quickly, the green-colored drink splattered down the front of her white chiffon blouse.
“Oh, Kenneth!” Kai shrieked. She leapt from the barstool, knocking her coat onto the floor. As she bent awkwardly to retrieve it, she twisted her ankle, slid into a semi-split and broke the heel of her left boot.
Gazing up helplessly at the handsome, distinguished, blond-haired and blue-eyed Dr. Harding, whose normally pale skin now glowed with a recent healthy tan, she realized that his dining companion was a black woman—a regal statuesque woman with her natural hair in twists. She had flawless dark skin that resembled black satin. Adorned with ethnic attire and jewelry, the woman who was older than Kai, but much younger than Dr. Harding’s wife, held his arm possessively.
Kai wondered if her involvement with Kenneth had uncovered some hidden yearning for women of a darker persuasion? Was that how he had perceived her—not as an equal, but as an exotic mulatto—someone to dally with behind closed doors?
Though distracted by the presence of this majestic and mysterious woman who obviously knew Kenneth intimately, Kai refused to change her game plan.
Unceremoniously, Kai picked herself up and dragging the broken heel, advanced with outstretched arms, limping and whimpering his name. A far cry from the dignified young lady who’d entered the restaurant, Kai was now rumpled and unkempt. The hostess looked at her in horror. Dr. Harding’s date shrank back in fear and bewilderment, while Dr. Harding appeared frantic as if prepared to bolt for the door.
“I’m so sorry, Kenneth,” she sobbed, clutching the lapel of his coat and then resting her head on his chest. Dr. Harding stiffened, shot his date an uneasy smile, and cleared his throat. “Kai, this is not the time or place,” he said, removing Kai’s resistant hands.
“It’s never the right time! You go off on vacation with your wife and now you’re back in Philly and you don’t even have the decency to return my calls?” Kai reached for him again, expecting to be comforted.
Dr. Harding backed away from her grasping tentacles. “You’re creating a scene. Please leave; we can discuss this tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” Kai screamed.
The buzzing conversations of patrons seated at the nearby bar ceased.
“Perhaps I should leave, Kenneth,” his companion suggested. “Can you call me a cab?” she asked the hostess.
“No. We’ll leave together.” He took his frazzled date’s arm and turned her toward the door. Looking back, he apologized to the hostess.
Hot on their heels, Kai exited the restaurant also. “What’s the matter, Kenneth? Am I too fair-skinned for you now?” She heckled. Despite the broken heel, she hobbled closely behind the couple determined to keep pace.
“Huh? What’s the problem, Dr. Harding? Does she suck your dick better than I do?”
Dr. Harding waved his hand, anxiously beckoning the parking lot attendant to hurry and get his car.
“Let me tell you something, Ms. Nubia,” Kai continued, “you’re going to have to suck that little pencil for damn near an hour before it comes to life.”
The woman gasped, but Kai was relentless. “And after all that sucking, I can guarantee you the little bugger is going to deflate the second it touches your nappy pussy.”
Dr. Harding race-walked his appalled companion toward his Jaguar and away from Kai’s scorching words.
“Are you prepared for the worst sex of your life?” Kai screamed as she stumbled up to the Jag and banged on the passenger-side window.
Dr. Harding started the ignition; Kai did a hasty shuffle to his side of the car and pulled frantically on the door. It was locked.
The Haitian attendant, who only an half-hour earlier had been snubbed by Kai, pulled her away, using the soothing tone one would use if trying to calm a dangerously insane person. “Miss, please, let go of the door. You’re going to hurt yourself.” He managed to pry her fingers from the door handle as Dr. Harding screeched away.
“Take your grimy hands off me.” Kai yanked away from the attendant, turning her fury on him. “Where’s my fucking car? Go get it…and it better not have one scratch on it. Do you hear me? Not one scratch, goddamit.”
“Yes, Miss. I’ll get your car, but do you think you’re able to drive safely?”
“Fuck off; who asked for your concern! Just get my car and mind your damn business.”
Kai bent down and ripped the broken heel off her boot. She flung it across the lot, aiming at the head of the retreating attendant.