Insatiable (6 page)

“Nothing. Just admiring your cute dimples—you’re absolutely adorable.” Kai failed to mention her attraction to LaVella’s large lips. Oh well, all things in time. She’d share that with her new ghetto girlfriend when the time was right. Moist with perverse excitement, Kai revved the engine, reversed out of the lot and sped down 52
^nd
Street.

“All finished.” Terelle kissed the top of Marquise’s freshly braided head.

Sitting comfortably between her legs on the floor, Marquise watched
Monday Night Football.
“Thanks, babe,” he muttered softly without budging.

Terelle shifted her position.

“Don’t move. Stay where you are,” Marquise whined. He wrapped both arms around her legs, making himself a willing captive cushioned inside her soft thighs.

“Let me up, Quise. I gotta get Keeta’s clothes off and put her to bed,” she said, glancing at their daughter who was stretched out beside her on the futon, fully clothed and sound asleep.

“Aw,” Marquise groaned as he reluctantly released his grip on her legs.

Terelle surveyed the neat rows of her handiwork before rising. Her work looked good but she wished she were talented enough to create intricate designs similar to the styles Allen Iverson wore. Since Marquise worshiped AI., Terelle thought she might take a couple classes at the African hair salon on Woodland Avenue.

She hated to admit it, but life with Marquise restricted to the apartment was so sweet she almost dreaded his being released from house arrest. Knowing his whereabouts around the clock gave her a sense of peace and well-being she had never known before. In ninety days Marquise would be free of the ankle bracelet that kept him confined to their apartment. What would he do with his newfound freedom, she wondered? Before troublesome thoughts could disrupt her peace, she turned her attention to Markeeta and lifted her from the futon.

“I’ll put her to bed,” Marquise said as he stood up. He gently took Markeeta from Terelle’s arms. “I hate to ask you to go out, but…”

“You need cigarettes?”

“Yeah, my pack’s gittin’ low.”

“I don’t mind going out for you; I just wish you’d try to cut down.”

“Can’t. Not right now. I’m locked up in here all day long—I’d go crazy if I didn’t have my smokes. I’ll think about quittin’ when they cut this shit off my leg.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” he said, his expression earnest. “Now, gimme some sugar.”

Terelle stood on her toes and offered her lips. The feel of his lips weakened her. Getting herself together to go to the store wasn’t going to be easy. Leaving Marquise was never easy.

“Hurry up and git back.” He patted Terelle’s backside suggestively, a gesture he’d made numerous times, yet Terelle blushed as though touched by Marquise’s hand for the very first time.

She grabbed her handbag and coat, and pulled on Marquise’s new Eagles scull cap. “I’ll be right back,” she said to his retreating figure as he carried Markeeta to the bedroom. She didn’t think she’d ever stop beaming with pride whenever her eyes beheld her man and their child together—at last.

It took less than ten minutes for Terelle to walk to the corner store, purchase the cigarettes and walk back home. As she neared Kingsessing Avenue, she noticed a cab pulling up to the curb. Inexplicably, the sight of the cab did not bode well. Terelle’s bouncy footsteps slowed and then came to a complete stop. To her astonishment, her mother emerged from the cab; her movements were jerky—agitated. For the past few months, her mother had been keeping up with her appearance, but tonight she looked haggard. A faded red bandana was tied around her head, no doubt concealing uncombed hair. Was she back on drugs? Terelle shuddered.

Cassandra Chambers glimpsed Terelle and began yelling, “He tried to kill me! That dirty son of a bitch tried to kill me!” she sobbed dramatically into her hands.

Terelle sprinted to the parked cab. “Who tried to kill you? What happened, Mom?”

“Pay the cab, baby,” Cassandra cried. “I left my money and all my stuff at the place.”

“Who tried to kill you?” Terelle shrieked, her face etched with worry. She pulled her mother’s slim hands from her face and emitted a small scream when she realized her mother’s right eye was blackened. “Oh my God! Who did this to you?”

“Give the damn driver eight dollars and stop tryin’ to put my business all over the streets,” she yelled irrationally. “We’ll talk about it inside,” Cassandra said in high-pitched annoyance.

Terelle hastily produced a ten-dollar bill and handed it to driver. She couldn’t imagine who had harmed her mother. She wondered if she’d gotten into a fight with one of the hard-core women she lived with in the group home. Her brows furrowed in concern as she glanced at her mother. Her mother was so thin; it would be easy for any of those burly women to get the best of her.

“Do you want me to call the police?” Terelle asked, determined to sound calmer than she felt.

“Hell no!” Cassandra shouted as they climbed the stairs to the third-floor apartment.

They stood outside the door while Terelle fumbled inside her handbag looking for her keys. “Okay, Mom. Just tell me who did this to you before we go inside.” She was completely bewildered and dreaded Marquise’s reaction to her mother’s unexpected visit.

“Harry did it.”

“Harry? Who’s Harry?”

“The guy I’ve been stayin’ with.”

“But…you’re stayin’ at the group home—aren’t you?”

“I left. I told you I had to get out of that place. You wouldn’t let me stay here with you…I had to do somethin’.”

“But Mom…”

“Don’t start up with me, Terelle. I did what I had to do. At least I had enough sense to leave. I ain’t gonna stick around and let no nigga kick my ass every day.”

“He hit you before?”

“No. But once a man gets a taste for putting his hands on you, you can bet he’s gonna do it again. And trust me…I ain’t the one. I’ll kill that muthafucker before I…”

“Calm down, Mom. Come on in so me and Marquise can figure out what we should do.”

Marquise opened the door before Terelle was able to turn the key.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Marquise said with a smirk.

“I could say the same thing about you.” Cassandra pushed her way inside; her hand covered her injured eye.

Terelle tossed Marquise the pack of cigarettes. She chastised him with a scowl before turning her attention back to her mother. “Let me put some ice on that for you.” She pulled an ice tray from the freezer and began wrapping cubes inside a dishtowel. “This should keep it from swelling up too much.” She pulled her mother’s hand away from her eye.

“Dayum!” Marquise exclaimed as he gawked at Cassandra’s eye. “Okay, Frazier,” he said, laughing. “Now, you know you gotta get your weight up before you try to mess wit Laila Ali!” He lit a cigarette. “Whatchu weigh now, Miss Cassy? ’Bout a buck ten?” He drew on the cigarette, exhaled, and then chuckled maliciously.

“Quise! This ain’t funny.” Terelle hadn’t expected Marquise to greet her mother with open arms, but she was surprised by his lack of sympathy and his blatant disrespect. “A woman didn’t give her this black eye.”

“Naw? Who did it, then?”

“Harry,” Cassandra said tonelessly.

“Who the hell’s Harry?” Marquise inquired. There was a mixture of confusion and annoyance in his voice.

“She left the group home. Harry’s some nut she’s been staying with,” Terelle explained as she applied the ice pack to her mother’s eye. “She doesn’t want me to call the police, but something sure needs to be done. Can you get some of your friends to go whip Harry’s ass?” Terelle nudged her mother before Marquise could respond. “What’s Harry’s address, Mom?”

“Yo, Babe! Don’t be putting me in the middle of this shit. We don’t know the whole story…”

Terelle angrily slammed the ice tray on the kitchen table. The remaining ice cubes popped out and slid to the floor. “I know that punk-ass ain’t have no business putting his hands in my mother’s face.” Terelle’s lower lip twitched as she screamed the words at Marquise. “If you don’t do something about it, then I’ll get somebody else to go see about that nigga.”

Cassandra’s eyes gleamed as they moved from Terelle to Marquise, excitedly waiting for the drama to unfold.

“Babe, calm down.” Marquise quickly stamped out the cigarette; he wrapped both arms around Terelle. “Let’s find out exactly what happened before we git all caught up in this.”

“We’re talking about my mother…
I’m already caught up in it!”
Terelle tried to wriggle out of Marquise’s tight embrace.

“Okay, babe,” he cajoled. “If you’re involved, then I’m involved. We’re in this shit together, aiight?” He pulled out a kitchen chair, sat down, and lowered Terelle onto his lap and turned to Terelle’s mother. “Whassup, Miss Cassy? What happened?” His voice took on a gentle, concerned tone.

“Now that’s a stupid-ass question; you can see what happened.” Cassandra spat out the words, twisted around in her chair, and looked around the kitchen in disgusted disbelief as if she had an audience of equally appalled spectators.

Moving Terelle off his lap, Marquise stood up abruptly. The chair toppled over making a loud crashing sound when it hit the floor. “Don’t call me stupid.” He pointed his finger at Cassandra.

“You better get your damn finger outta my face,” Cassandra warned, looking at Terelle for support.

“Whatchu gonna do? Call Harry? I’ll whip you and your man’s ass.”

“Quise!” Terelle’s voice cautioned Marquise to get a grip on his emotions. She tugged at his arm as he advanced toward Cassandra.

“Let him go, Terelle. Let him hit me so I can call the cops. They’ll haul his black ass back to Graterford prison so fast…”

Terelle gasped. She looked at her mother with horror. After being without Marquise for two years, the very thought of him being locked up again caused her heart to crash against her chest. “Mom, after all I’ve been through, how can you even talk about getting Marquise locked up again?”

“Well, that’s just what’s gonna happen if he gets in my face one more time.”

Seething and frustrated, Marquise kicked the toppled chair. The loud thump awakened Markeeta; she screamed for her Mommy. “Ain’t this some shit! You didn’t wanna call the cops on that muthafucker who punched you in your fuckin’ face, but you wanna call the cops on me?” Marquise bellowed.

“Mommy,” Markeeta yelled again.

“I’ll git the baby, Terelle; you deal with your crazy mother.” Marquise glowered at Cassandra, spun around and stomped toward the bedroom.

Breathing heavily, Cassandra slammed the ice pack on the table and stood up abruptly. “Who you calling crazy?” Her chest rose and fell as she waved her hand wildly in the air.

Marquise halted, and then turned to face Cassandra. As he approached her, Terelle watched him struggle for composure. She was prepared to jump between Marquise and her mother if necessary.

“I didn’t stutter,” he said, finally in a voice that was chilling. “I’m calling
you
crazy,” he added. “Why’d you bring your ass over here in the first place? You know I ain’t got no pity for you. Me and Terelle both seen you in worse shape than this. That black eye ain’t nothin’ compared to the shit you been into…”

Cassandra gave Marquise a long dirty look but was silent. He whirled back around; furious steps carried him into the bedroom to attend to his daughter.

Terelle picked up the chair, and repositioned it beneath the kitchen table. She looked around in bewilderment. How had a perfectly tranquil evening turned so quickly into an absolute nightmare? Though she loved her mother dearly, she would not permit her to destroy the peace she’d worked so hard for and had endured so much to attain.

Terelle sighed. “Marquise is right, Mom.”

“About what?” Still breathing heavily, Cassandra sat back down and reapplied the ice pack.

“You didn’t want me to call the cops on that Harry person…and he punched you in the face…gave you a black eye.” Terelle shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image of her mother being beaten. “But you were ready to send Marquise back to jail.” Terelle paused. “And Quise didn’t even touch you, Mom. I can’t believe you’d make that kind of threat. Why would you want to destroy my family?”

“Oh, stop being such a damn drama queen. Did I call the cops? No, I did not,” Cassandra said, responding to her own question.

“Mom, you know I’m trying to have a peaceful life…and um…” Terelle shook her head. “It just seems to me like you don’t want that for me.”

“That’s bullshit!” Cassandra yanked the ice pack from her eye in protest.

“Is it? Then why did you come over here with your problems when you know you and Quise don’t get along?”

“What was I ’posed to do? Stick around and let Harry whip my ass all night long?”

“First of all, you’re supposed to be in an addiction program. You’re supposed to be living in the group home—getting treatment. But here you come, barging over here—out of the blue—expecting me to put a roof over your head because you decided to move in with that nut instead of finishing up with your treatment. That’s real selfish, Mom.”

“Selfish? Oh, now, I’m selfish?” Cassandra sputtered. “Fuck that group home. They wasn’t doing nothin’ for me. All they wanna do is make you live by a bunch of stupid rules. I’m a grown-ass woman; I make my own rules. I only asked you for a little help. Now, tell me…how in the hell is it selfish for a mother to turn to her daughter for some help?”

“What did you ever do for me? Huh? Have I ever been able to turn to you for help?” Terelle yelled.