Fixin’ Tyrone (7 page)

Mia gave him her phone number that day, and she still remembered how her friends reacted once he walked off.

“You’re not really gonna go out with him, are you?”

“I don’t know. I might,” Mia said.

“He looks like he sells drugs,” one of them said.

“He looks like he beats up on his girlfriend,” another noted.

“Is he a rapper?” the third wanted to know, and Mia was hooked from that moment on.

Tyrone called her that same night and came to pick her up for their first date the very next day. When Tyrone rolled up to her dorm in his old-school Cutlass with candy flakes and chrome rims, the security guards tried to kick him off the campus. Mia had to rush downstairs to tell them he was here with her.

When she got into the car with him, Tyrone turned his system all the way up out of spite. Thumping bass from Tupac’s “No More Pain” rattled all of the windows in her dorm. A few students peeked out of their blinds to see who was out there, and Mia never felt so special.

Tyrone took her to a park (of all places), bought her a snow cone, pushed her on the swing, and they got busy in the back seat of his car before he dropped her off. Mia liked to look back on that day and say they
made love
, but deep inside she knew there was no lovemaking involved. They
had sex
. Like animals. And she loved every minute of it.

From the moment he walked up to her in front of that movie theatre, Mia couldn’t get enough of Tyrone. She loved his hair, his eyes, his thin goatee, and his tattoos. He picked her up after classes almost every day and showed her things she’d never seen before. Mia never wanted to go back to her dorm by the ten o’clock curfew.

One day she didn’t.

Infatuated with her whirlwind romance, Mia dropped out of school towards the end of her freshman year. She regretted it right away, but Tyrone was the only thing she really cared about. She didn’t go back for two semesters.

When she did get back in school, Mia found out she was pregnant with TC, but by then her relationship with Tyrone was on a downward slide. Mia wanted to spend more time with him, but Tyrone was stuck in the streets. He sold drugs and stayed out all night sometimes doing God-knew-what. He only picked her up from school once, maybe twice a week.

Mia figured he was seeing other women, but she never caught him red-handed. To make matters worse, Tyrone started going to jail around this time. He did four months on his first bid and got six the second trip. He was in jail when TC was born. By the time he got popped for the big one that would send him to prison, Tyrone and Mia were already broken up.

Mia had a new boyfriend by then, and Calvin Mitchell would be the one to cure her of her thug-lov
e
tendencies. This one left Mia with a big belly full of Mica and another broken heart. Mia was eight months pregnant when she attended Calvin’s funeral. A month later she had two bastard kids by two no-good bastards. But she also had her college degree and her mother’s tendency to never look back.

* * *

Mia never dated anyone remotely similar to Tyrone after that. In the six years since he’d been gone, Mia learned to forgive, but she would never forget what thug love got her. The hell with
swagger
. Mia wanted a man with a 401K, his own house, and no drama.

This new attitude led some to view her as stuck up, but Mia saw it differently. She was poised, confident, and independent. She was a good mother, a strong woman who didn’t need a man to help provide for her and her kids.

Anyone who had a problem with that could kiss her ass.

She balled Tyrone’s letter into a tight wad and sent it flying into a small wastebasket with one shot.

CHAPTER 5 DOUBLE0 PLAYER

Mica sat at the dining room table with spoon in hand, but when Mia passed through, she saw that the utensil was dry.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothin’,” Mica said, her eyes low.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I
was
eating.”

“Don’t lie. You haven’t put your spoon in there yet.”

“I don’t like oatmeal,” Mica said. The girl was more finicky than a vegan.

“I’ll eat hers,” TC said, always a trooper.

“No, Mica’s going to eat her own oatmeal,” Mia said. “You guys didn’t get any toast? Where’s Crystal?”

“She’s in the bathroom,” TC reported.

Mia went to the kitchen and put two slices of bread in the toaster. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” she told Mica on her way back through the dining room. “And you’re eating that oatmeal before we go.”

“But I don’t like it,” Mica whined.

“Don’t let me come back in there and see that spoon still clean,” Mia said without stopping.

Monday mornings were a bit of a hassle. Most of the time Crystal woke up early enough to help get the kids ready, but there was always something. Today Mica was sleepy and a bit fussy, but she would eat, hopefully without getting tears involved.

Back in her own room, Mia selected pearl earrings from her jewelry box. She went to her bathroom to put them on and look over her outfit in the mirror. Today she wore a black skirt suit. The skirt had just enough stretch to accentuate her hips and butt. The jacket was one of her favorites. It had a Peter Pan collar with three buttons down the middle.

Mia checked her locks and applied a little gel to a few out of place hairs. She looked good. Mia tried to dress to the nines every day, but she took extra care to look her best on Mondays. Her appearance affected her whole attitude, and how she felt today might carry through the week.

And she
felt
good.

Back in her room she slipped into a pair of dress pumps and snatched her briefcase from the bed. She made it back to the dining room with seven minutes to spare. Mica’s spoon was soiled, but not much was missing from her bowl.

“Okay, so what’s the deal with your breakfast?” Mia took a seat across from the pouting princess and winked at her son. TC smiled and winked back.

“I don’t like these apples in here,” Mica said. She held up a half-eaten piece of toast. “I ate this.”

“You need energy. Oatmeal’s good for you.”

“Can’t we—”

“Eat a spoonful before you say anything else,” Mia suggested.

Mica did as she was told. “Can’t we go to 711 on the way?”

“You’d rather have a taquito?” Mia asked.

“I li—”

“Eat a spoonful before you answer.”

Mica did so. “I like taquitos.”

“How’d you do on your test last week?” Mia asked.

“I got—”

“Eat a spoonful.”

She did. “I got a 94.”

TC giggled.

“What?” Mica asked him.

“You’re eating your oatmeal!” he said.

Mica gave her mom a look.

“Keep eating,” Mia said.

She got up and went to the living room, where Crystal was lounging on the sofa wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top.

“Must be nice,” Mia observed.

“Don’t start,” Crystal said. “I got an 11:30 today.”

“Which class?”

“Humanities.” Crystal managed to say it with a straight face.

“You still undecided?” Mia asked.

“Yeah, but I’m going to have to take this anyway, whatever I major in. Might as well get it out the way. I gotta take religion and college algebra, too. Those classes

are hard.”

“You’re only taking
one
class this semester?”

Crystal rolled her eyes. “Yes, Miss
Magna cum Laude
, I’m taking
one
class. Next semester I might take two. Don’t look at me like that. I be busy, girl.”

“Doing what?” Mia wondered.

“I gotta, uh. I pick up the kids from school. Help them with their homework. Sometimes I fix ’em dinner . . .”

“All of that stuff happens after 3:00,” Mia noted. “Between eight and one you can take four classes. And don’t use my kids as an excuse. I’ll hire a nanny and you can have all the free time you want.”

“Naw, I’m fine. I was thinking about going to cu, cuh.” She looked puzzled. “What’s that school you go to where you learn to cook, like a chef?”

“That’s
culinary
,” Mia said with a grin. “You’re lucky you’re twenty-one. Don’t think you can be thirty-something with all these frivolous ambitions.”

“Ooh good—I got ten years!” Crystal said and rolled onto her stomach. “Wake me up when you’re
forty
.”

Mia threw a pillow and caught her in the back of the head. “You oughta be ashamed of yourself.” She scooped her purse from the sofa and opened the front door. “Come on y’all. Time to go! Put your dishes in the sink. Aunt Crystal says she’ll get them for you.”

“Bitch,” Crystal called from the couch.

The kids rushed in and Mia admired them for a second. TC wore a white golf shirt. It was tucked in neatly, and his khakis were without a wrinkle. He sported a black, braided belt that was one of Mia’s favorites. Mica wore a white blouse also. It was tucked into her navy blue, pleated skirt. They both wore white tennis. These were the colors mandated by the school’s uniform policy, but Mia didn’t think they could have looked better in anything else.

“You guys look great. Aunt Crystal did your hair?” she asked Mica.

“
Thank you!
” Crystal shouted.

“Yes, but I picked out the barrettes,” Mica said. She had four perfect ponytails. TC’s short hair always looked nice and well-groomed. He could smooth it out with his bare hands.

“You look good, too, Mama,” TC said.

“Where are your backpacks?” Mia asked, and they rushed off in separate directions to retrieve them.

“You gonna be home for dinner?” Crystal asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll call.”

* * *

Mia drove a Lexus GX 470, a four-door sports utility vehicle. It was black, her favorite color. The kids piled in, and she set off for their elementary school no more than half a mile away.

“My daddy’s coming home today,” TC called from the back seat when they got around the corner.

“Yes,” Mia said. “You’re excited, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Mia watched TC beaming in the rearview mirror.

“I thought about him last night,” he went on.

“I thought about him, too,” Mia said.

“You miss TC’s daddy?” Mica pondered.

Wow
. Mia hesitated. “Not like, well, I think about him sometimes.”

“Was he cool?” TC wanted to know.

“Cool like what?”

“Like 50 Cent,” TC said. “Or Lil’ Scrappy.”

No more BET for you
, Mia thought. “Well,” she said, “if you think those guys are cool, then yes, your father is cool.”

“Does he have a gold necklace?” TC wondered.

“He did when we were together,” Mia said. “But that was eight years ago. He might not still have it now.”

“I hope he does,” TC said. He rattled on about his father for the rest of the way, and Mia hoped Mica wasn’t starting to feel left out. If she said she wished her daddy was alive again, Mia would have to go to work with her mascara running.

But she didn’t. Mia pulled up in front of the school and they jumped out, almost running by the time they hit the sidewalk. Mia didn’t think she’d ever been that eager to get started on her times tables. She watched them until they disappeared through the main entrance.

* * *

Prospect Investment Firm was one of the world’s largest discount brokers. According to last year’s figures, it served seven million individual and institutional clients and had over $1.2 trillion in assets from three hundred cities across the United States.

The Prospect building was one of the tallest in downtown Overbrook Meadows. It was already a historical landmark. Mia was the manager of the securities and loans department. She arrived at her corner office ten minutes early this morning, but still considered herself late.

Mia’s responsibilities at Prospect included quality control over loan setup, trade management communications, accrual calculations, billing, and other system and database maintenance. She was expected to motivate and drive team members to meet and exceed business performance metrics and drivers. Mia also had to develop and implement process improvements and procedures to support and meet departmental and corporate goals and objectives. To simplify, she busted her ass every day, signed off on six-figure deals, and did her best to bring in as many millions as she could each year.

Mia was a fastidious boss, but also compassionate. She was overbearing at times, but still nurturing. She was at the top of her game, and there was no glass on her ceiling. She made almost a hundred thousand a year, but her goal was half a million. And best of all, she loved what she did.