Lust

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “There isn’t a reward on the end of this risk,” I told him. “The police are taking down everyone, getting promotions on cats’ backs. Come home, and I’ll set you up here and—”

  He howled so loud I had to pull the receiver away from my ear.

  “You’re gonna set me up?” He was laughing so hard, he could hardly get the next words out. “Bruh, don’t insult me and my intelligence. I’m making so much money right now, I can buy you and yours.”

  I wanted to be done. But that wasn’t how you treated fam, not even your crazy relatives. So I changed course and rang the warning bell.

  “If anything happens to you down there, you know you can’t call me. We agreed that . . .”

  “Bruh, you the last person I would need to call.”

  Then a second later, there was nothing, except the dead air that came from having the phone hung up in your face . . .

  * * *

  I WAITED A couple more seconds, hoping Trey remembered that call, before I said, “And you know, if it had gone down the other way around, I wouldn’t have expected anything more from you.”

  He didn’t let a moment pass, like he had his answer ready. “But that’s the difference between you and me. I wouldn’t have treated you the way you treated me.”

  I shook my head, but there was no need for me to say anything more, no need to continue or to justify. I’d made righteous moves, and no matter what Trey said, he knew that.

  That twitch in his brow came back and made me once again consider telling him all that I’d done. But that would serve no purpose and could hinder my hope. If I told him about what I’d done in the past, he wouldn’t let me help him in the present. And the present was most important. The only way to really help Trey was to get him out of Atlanta and up here with me.

  Then he did something I didn’t expect. He stepped back, pivoted, and once again faced the mirror. Looking at me in the reflection, he said, “I get it. You had rules, you had a plan.”

  “What I had was a desire to live the kind of life that I couldn’t behind bars.”

  Even in the mirror, his stare was hard, cold . . . and sad. I could take the hardness, the coldness; it was the sadness that filled me with guilt.

  “I’m sorry I left you down there; I’m sorry you did that time.” I owed him at least those words. “And I’m really glad that you’re here now.”

  It took a few seconds, but his smile and his swagger were back. “Well, thank you for saying that. That’s all I wanted to hear.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s cool, bruh. I had some good times and made some good money.”

  He sounded like he was trying hard to put some positivity into his spin. But he couldn’t hide the sadness I saw and the hurt I heard. That’s why I said, “Not this time, not this place, but we need to talk. I got some plans for you and me.”

  He popped the collar of the tuxedo and with a look that was more of a smirk than a smile, he said, “I got some plans, too, bruh.”

  Before I could ask a question, an Asian man stepped through the curtain and into our space. “Mr. Taylor,” he said, “we’re ready to do your measurements.” He motioned for Trey to follow him, and my man grinned as he readjusted the lapels of the tuxedo.

  “Okay, let me go back here so that this man can do what he do. ’Cause I’m gonna be the freshest one standing at the altar on Friday.” He paused. “Besides you, of course.”

  “Of course,” I repeated.

  He reached out and gave me dap, but before he leaned back, I asked, “We straight?”

  He hesitated for a moment that was a second too long.

  But then he said, “Oh, yeah, man. Definitely. We’re good. We’re cool. We’re straight.” He strutted away as if we hadn’t had this hard talk. Right before he stepped out of the space, he turned back and pointed at me. “’Cause you the man.” He laughed.

  I waited for a couple of moments before I asked myself what he meant. But then I settled back and told myself that Trey and I were fine; we’d said those things that needed to be spoken. The situation had been handled and now we could focus on being brothers again.

  The only thing was . . . I had this feeling. Because nothing in life was ever simple when it came to Trey Taylor.

  13

  Damon

  My hands were stuffed in my pocket as Trey and I strolled up the walk. The Arlington House was a haven in the middle of the city, which is exactly why I’d set Ms. Irene up in this place. Right across from DC’s natural gem that could rival New York’s Central Park every day, the grounds of Arlington House, with all its majestic trees and thick greenery, made it feel like we weren’t even in the US of A anymore.

  “This place,” Trey said just as he strode to the right at the fork in the path, veering toward the sign that read, “All Visitors This Way.”

  “Yo.” I paused and motioned with my head for Trey to follow me to the left.

  He frowned. “We don’t need to check in?”

  Pulling the key from my pocket, I tossed it and he snatched it from the air. “Nah, man. Those rules ain’t for me,” I told him.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I guess some things haven’t changed.”

  I gave him a slow nod before we turned up the walkway that led to Ms. Irene’s building. She lived in one of the apartments on the lower level, and even though I had a key, I was always respectful. I always called her when I was on my way and I always knocked when I got to her place.

  “Damon? Is that you?” she called out, her voice strong from inside her apartment.

  Trey stood behind me, and even though I couldn’t see him, I could feel his smile. We’d decided that we wouldn’t tell his grandmother he was home. It had taken a long time for her to get over the fact that her only grandchild had been given a sentence that ensured she wouldn’t live long enough to see him as a free man.

  When she pulled the door open, I marveled, as I always did, at how spry this eighty-four-years-young woman looked. She really could have lived on her own, but it was that one fall and the twelve hours that passed before her neighbor found her that had me move her to this assisted living facility. She had her privacy, but she had support all around her and our minds were at peace.

  Her dentured smile was wide when she saw me. “But as for me and my house . . .” She paused the way she always did, waiting for me to finish the scripture.

  I knew the rest, of course. Had been knowing it since I’d known Ms. Irene and Trey. The same way my pops schooled me and Trey on the streets, Ms. Irene tried to get into our heads with scripture. My pops had the greater impact; for years, all I knew about God was from Joshua 24:15 and the words Ms. Irene made me say every time I entered her home. But today I wasn’t going to say anything.

  Behind me, Trey finished the verse, “We shall serve the Lord.”

  She tilted her head and squinted.

  Then that eighty-four-year-old, no-more-than-one-­hundred-­pounds, silver-haired woman reached out and with one hand shoved me to the side so hard I hit the brick column at the side of her door.

  “Dang, Ms. Irene!”

  But neither the old lady nor her grandson heard me because they were tucked in each other’s arms, Ms. Irene looking like a dwarf being swallowed up.

  They made no sounds—well, except for Ms. Irene’s “Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.”

  Now, I wasn’t the sentimental type. I mean, I could get my romance on with my girl, but you weren’t never gonna see any kind of weakness in me in any kind of way. But this right here; man, this could have made an OG cry. And as she called out to Jesus at least seventeen dozen more times, I pounded my chest and raised my fist to the sky, expressing my own gratitude to the Lord.

  I don’t know how many minutes they stood there, but I waited until Ms. Irene stepped back and finally spoke new words. “I never thought I’d see this day.”


  “Grandma.” Trey’s voice kinda shook and now I understood why he’d said he needed a day or two before he visited her. She was the only person walking this earth who got to him, and he knew that one of the reasons her health had deteriorated so quickly was because of her constant worry about him.

  “Are you home?” she asked, but before he could answer, her eyes got small. “Wait a minute.” Her voice was lower. “Are you supposed to be here? You didn’t escape, did you?”

  I laughed, but Trey answered seriously, “No, Grandma. I’m cool. I’m out. It’s all legal.”

  She blew out a long breath before she grabbed his hand. “Well, why we standing out here? Come on, let me show you this nice place that Damon got for me.” She paused where I stood and she reached out her other hand to me, but I shook my head.

  She frowned.

  “Ms. Irene, I’m gonna let you and Trey have a little time together.”

  Her smile told me she really appreciated that, but her words said, “No, you come on in too, baby. I can’t believe this. I have both my grandsons with me.”

  Leaning over, I gave her a kiss on her cheek. “I gotta make a run.”

  She looked like she was about to ask me again but changed her mind.

  I said to Trey, “Text me when you’re done and I’ll . . .”

  Before I could finish, he said, “I know my way around this city. Where you want to meet up?”

  I told him that I’d be in my office, then I gave Ms. Irene another kiss, trotted down the long path past the Administration Building and into my car. There were parking spaces on the grounds, but I’d parked on the street so that Trey and I could take that walk. I’d wanted Trey to have the full effect of the atmosphere where his grandmother lived.

  Now that Trey and Ms. Irene had been united, I had to take care of business. But before I could get focused on all that I had to do, my cell phone binged and when I glanced at the screen, there wasn’t a single thought of business in my mind.

  Tiffanie’s photo popped up on my screen with her text beneath:

  What are you wearing?

  That made me laugh out loud. Just days before our wedding, Tiffanie was turning into a freak! Not that I’d ever been unhappy with who she was and how she took care of me between the sheets. But since yesterday, my girl was out of control.

  First there was the way she kissed me in front of Trey. Like if I hadn’t stopped her, she would have been willing to put on a show right there in my office. And then there were the texts that had started coming, with all kinds of innuendos.

  I texted back:

  You first. What you got on?

  A couple of seconds later:

  Nothing.

  I smiled.

  Wanna see? she texted back to me.

  I started up the car and hit the engine.

  OMW!

  I’d barely typed the last letter when my cell vibrated. Thank God there was no one (not even Trey) in this car, because if anyone saw the look on my face, I would have lost my gangsta card for sure.

  “What’s up, bae?” I said.

  “Just you. Are you up . . .”

  I groaned and shifted in the seat.

  She finished with, “For our wedding in just two days?”

  “You know you need to stop playin’, right? Where you at? I wanna see you now, woman!”

  She laughed, but it wasn’t just a chuckle or a giggle. This was a sound that came from her throat, the sound of a woman, a woman in need.

  And every part of me that made me a man wanted to go and help out my damsel who was in distress.

  I asked, “Are you home? I’m on my way.”

  “No, Damon.”

  Had she just purred my name?

  “We have to wait,” she said. “Just two more days. You can hold on for two more days, can’t you?”

  And then she moaned and groaned the way she did when I was handling my business with her.

  “Tiff!”

  “Good-bye,” she whispered. And then, nothing.

  I stared at the phone for a second or two, hoping that she would call back and demand that I be at her place in fifteen minutes.

  I would have made it there in ten.

  But she didn’t call, and after a few more moments, I tossed my cell onto the passenger’s seat, shifted my pants again, and pushed the accelerator.

  My girl.

  She’d been right about shutting down the sex until our wedding night, because it had done something to her. And now there was all this anticipation.

  My wife.

  I couldn’t wait.

  Friday night, April 1, was going to be epic.

  * * *

  THIS WAS RIDICULOUS. With all the work I had to do, I was just sitting here, looking at the texts that Tiffanie had sent to me.

  These photos weren’t off the chain, they’d broken the chain. I stared at the picture of her bare leg that stopped high on her thigh. Just her leg. Then the one where she wore what looked like one of my shirts or maybe her grandfather’s, though I hoped not because she had it completely unbuttoned and had nothing on underneath.

  There was no way I was going to survive forty-eight more hours.

  My phone binged again, and I was almost afraid to open the new text. But I did. And I jumped up. Because she was lying on her bed in her birthday glory, surrounded by bills. Lots and lots of dollars.

  Your two loves.

  That was all the text said.

  I laughed. Then moaned. And laughed again.

  If you don’t stop, I began my text, I’m on my way.

  Okay. Sorry. I have to get back to work. Call me tonight. Love you.

  I sent her ten hearts back, once again glad that I was alone because if anyone saw me sending texts with emojis . . .

  “What’s up, bruh?”

  I jumped two inches off my chair.

  “Whoa!” Trey held up his hands as he walked into my office. “What’s got you acting like you running from the police?”

  “I’m cool, just didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Yeah, I knocked ’cause Hillary wasn’t at her desk, but you seemed a bit preoccupied.” He kinda craned his neck, trying to get a glance at my cell, but I slid it off my desk and into my top drawer. In case Tiffanie checked back in with me, I didn’t want Trey to see my girl like that. “So, how’re things with Ms. Irene?”

  Trey leaned forward and shook his head. “I’ll never be able to thank you.”

  “We already said these words. No gratitude necessary. This is what we do. We have each other’s backs.”

  It was only a millisecond, but I’d been trained to notice every little twitch of a man’s body. And I saw that little fade of his smile, though since I was looking straight at him, he kept his front.

  We’re good, we’re cool, we’re straight.

  That’s what he said to me yesterday.

  “So, Ms. Irene’s good?” I repeated.

  He nodded.

  “She got everything she needs?”

  Again he gave me a nod, but this time he added, “Anything she needs from now on, I can take care of.”

  I wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to worry about all of that, but I remembered who I was dealing with, so I just sat back and nodded. “So, Ms. Irene didn’t try to get you to move back here? Get you to move in with her?”

  He laughed, and the tension that had been between us, eased. “You know my grandma.”

  I shrugged and tried to keep my tone nonchalant. “Maybe you should give that some thought.”

  “That’s what she said.” He paused and his eyes scanned my office the way he’d been doing every day since he’d been home. If I didn’t know my boy, I would’ve thought that he was casing the joint, checking out everything to do a hit on me. His eyes res
ted on Tiffanie’s photo once again when he asked, “You use all that money that you were stackin’?”

  “Damn, son!” Since I’d been hangin’ with Tiffanie and her grandparents, I’d kept my mouth clean. But Trey had surprised me with that question. “Get your hands outta my pocket.”

  Even though I said that with a grin, Trey knew I wasn’t playing. I never talked about my money with anyone, especially not Trey, since I didn’t trust him that way. He wasn’t the only one, though. No one needed to know more about my finances than I was willing to tell. Only Tiffanie could ask, and she was the first person to get close to me like that.

  “Why you blow like that? I’m just askin’. We boys, right? Fam, right?”

  I paused and reeled myself in.

  We’re good, we’re cool, we’re straight.

  I told him, “Yeah, I used some, saved some, spent some to make some more.” I gave myself another moment to pause and try to figure out these nagging thoughts I had about why Trey kept checking out my space, why he always had his eyes on Tiffanie’s picture, and why now he wanted to know about my money. So I decided to just ask him, “Why you wanna know?”

  The only answer he gave me was a shrug. But then, in the silence, it hit me. Trey was worried about money. First, he had Ms. Irene, and he had to be concerned about how he would pay that bill at Arlington House. And then, I didn’t know his situation in Atlanta, though it couldn’t have been stable, since he’d been out for just a little more than a month. No matter where he finally settled, he needed finances, since I was sure he didn’t have any money stacked. I couldn’t go at it from the angle of his grandmother, nor could I say that I just wanted to help, but I could make an offer from another place. “You’re doing me a real solid by standing next to me when I do this thing on Friday,” I began. “So just know that I got you. I got the hotel and all the expenses there, but anything else you need, I got you. You don’t come out of pocket for anything while you’re here.”

  I hadn’t even finished before Trey was shaking his head. “No, I’m good. No need for charity.”

  I wanted to make one of those old-school moves on him, where my aunties and uncles in the neighborhood used to slap me upside my head when I said something stupid. Who’d said anything about charity?