With the security of a healthy bank account, she should have been able to quit her stupid job and relax while she waited for her inheritance, but unfortunately her racist paternal grandmother had prevented that luxury. Fearing Kai had the propensity to become a slacker due to the black blood running through her veins, the grandmother, who died when Kai was a toddler, had stipulated in her will that Kai remain gainfully employed in a meaningful profession until her twenty-fifth birthday. How ridiculous!
There was a bright side, however. Keeping tabs on Kenneth required close proximity, but she refused to toil for the pittance the nursing home paid her. She’d show up for work, but her focus would be on Kenneth—not the residents who bothered her constantly for trivial matter such as ordering their clothing, placing phone calls for those who could verbalize their desires, listening to their constant whining at the Resident’s Council Meetings she was forced to facilitate, dispensing cigarettes, and passing out their fucking mail for crying out loud! No more. The administration could complain to her father until they turned blue; it simply didn’t matter. She’d do as she pleased and that was emphatically that!
Kenneth still loved her, she was certain. His marriage was a joke and his new relationship with that Kente cloth-clad woman was absurd.
Sending the photo to his wife was insensitive, Kai admitted to herself, but she was hurt and offended—he should have understood that. Besides, it was time his wife found out about him and Kai. He should have been grateful for her assistance in trying to rid him of the worthless woman.
But, his male ego demanded that he handle his marital situation himself, Kai decided with a wan smile. In the future…once she and Kenneth were man and wife, she’d have to remind herself to allow him to believe he was running the show.
Buoyed by the notion of being married to Kenneth, Kai sprung up and meandered toward the window. With her good hand, she pulled back the drapes. The view of the river was spectacular; Kenneth was going to love it!
She had eight hours a day to work on him—to convince him that they belonged together. She felt confident that she could persuade him.
All she had to do was get him in bed. Once she worked her magic on him in the bedroom, he’d have no choice but to acquiesce.
Standing at the window, feeling deliriously happy, she hugged herself as she imagined the enveloping warmth of having Kenneth’s arms wrapped around her.
Feeling magnanimous, Kai decided she and Kenneth would allow his ex-wife to keep the house in Chestnut Hill. Kai preferred living in the city, but a beachfront residence would make an awesome second home.
She opened her laptop and pecked with one finger: Kai Montgomery Harding.
Her future name had such a nice ring.
Chapter Twenty-three
Unable to sleep without Marquise in bed beside her, Terelle sat up and began clicking cable channels. Her gaze shifted from the TV to the clock on the bedside table.
She stared in dismay: 2:30 a.m. Late. But, then again it was early when compared to the hours he’d kept in his former life when he was out on his grind until the wee hours of the morning. Back then, it was normal for him to come home at the crack of dawn. It was a typical day in the ’hood for someone to tell her Quise had been seen in the company of another woman—on the creep—and the woman in question was usually someone whom Terelle considered a friend. There were times, like just before he got locked up, when days would pass without a word from him. Those were terrible times. Times she didn’t even want to think about.
But that was back then. Before they were parents, before they’d begun to plan a life together. Things were different now.
Today was payday, Marquise’s first. And with almost forty hours of overtime reflected in his paycheck, Marquise was in a celebratory mood and wanted to hang out with his friends for a few hours.
Or so he’d said.
A few hours had turned into eight. Where was he?
A pang went through her as she felt a stirring of suspicion. Was he out creepin’? Of course not, she answered herself, twisting her engagement ring reassuringly.
Something on TV caught her attention, briefly taking her troubled mind off Marquise. But unable to focus on the TV program for long, she shot another uneasy glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed.
Now she was really worried. Had something happened to him? Gripped by fear, Terelle sat on the edge of the bed, unconsciously rocking back and forth as she massaged her temples.
The sudden sound of jangling keys caused her heart to leap for joy. Marquise was home! But instead of vaulting out of bed and running to the front door as her heart desired, Terelle grabbed the remote and pushed the off button, clicked off the light from the lamp bedside the bed, and dove under the covers.
“You sleep, babe?” Marquise whispered. Terelle didn’t answer. He crept around the bedroom, opening and closing drawers quietly. He quickly peeled off his clothes and quietly padded to the bathroom.
The sound of running water in the bathtub prompted Terelle to sit upright. Marquise had taken a shower before he’d gone out, she recalled, so why was he taking another?
In an instant, it became painfully clear. Terelle’s stomach knotted tightly. Marquise was washing away the scent of some slutty woman.
Was it someone he’d met that evening? Or one of the flirtatious heifers he and Terelle encountered in the mornings on their bus ride to work—or God forbid…was it someone from the job?
The moment he returned to the bedroom, Terelle clicked on the light. His expression of surprise would have seemed comical had Terelle not been so angry.
“Did you make sure you washed away all the evidence?”
There was silence as the accusation hung between them momentarily.
He tightened the towel around his waist. “What?” he asked finally. He had a dark brooding look.
“You heard me,” she said in an icy tone.
The dark look transformed into a smile. “Yeah, I heard you, but I can’t believe you trippin’ like this.” He laughed, but there was a nervous edge to the laughter.
“Is something funny?” Terelle could feel her left leg beginning to shake with rage.
Marquise bent over laughing. His laughter sounded so fake. “Look at you twitchin’ and carryin’ on. Damn, babe. You lettin’ your imagination run wild.”
“I asked you if you think this shit is funny?” She sprang out of bed and pushed Marquise, knocking him off balance.
“Yo, stop playin’ all the time,” he said, and laughed again after the shock of having lost his footing wore off.
“You better stop playing with me,” she exclaimed.
“Yo, sit your little ass down and chill.” He let out a taunting laugh and before Terelle knew it she had thrown up her fists. As if possessed by the spirit of Joe Louis or some deceased heavyweight boxer, Terelle started throwing combinations: right-left, right-left, right-left to Marquise’s arms, chest, and gut. She even got in a couple of kidney shots, which made him grimace and grunt in pain.
Restraining her in a bear-hug, he shoved Terelle onto the bed. Unconcerned that the towel had slipped off and fallen to the floor, Marquise straddled her, gripped her shoulders and shook her hard. “What’s wrong witchu, Terelle? You gotta be crazy, puttin’ your hands on me like that.”
“Get off me, Marquise!” Terelle said through clenched teeth. She wriggled and bucked, trying to topple him over. But she couldn’t budge the 230-pound man.
“You think you can put your hands on me any time you get ready? Huh? You think it’s sweet like that?” His face, twisted in fury, was lowered so close to hers she could practically taste the toothpaste he’d just used to brush his teeth.
“Stop, Quise,” she pleaded as she continued to struggle beneath him. “You’re gonna wake up Keeta.”
Snapped back to reality by the reminder that his daughter was asleep in her little youth bed on the other side of the room, Marquise froze. He shot a concerned glance in his daughter’s direction.
Undisturbed by her parents’ sharp voices, Markeeta appeared to sleep soundly.
He eased his body off Terelle. She raced across the room, wrapped Markeeta in her Elmo blanket, and carried her into the living room and made her comfortable on the futon.
“Why’d you leave Keeta out there by herself?” Marquise barked when Terelle reentered the bedroom.
Terelle gave him a long narrow-eyed look. “You may not care how you act around your daughter, but I don’t want Keeta to see her daddy acting like a park ape.”
As if Terelle’s words made him suddenly aware that he was naked, Marquise picked up the fallen towel, readjusted it around his waist. Blowing out frustrated air, he went to the bureau, pulled out the bottom drawer and grabbed a pair of boxers and a white tee shirt. He dressed quickly, then flopped down onto the bed beside Terelle.
Hunched over in resignation, his elbows pressed into his thighs, Marquise rubbed his forehead. This gesture usually prompted Terelle to dispense affection immediately.
But tonight she ignored him. And realizing that neither a kiss of forgiveness nor a reassuring pat was coming his way, Marquise sat up. Renewed anger glinted in his dark eyes. “Damn, babe, why you come at my neck like that?” His words had a challenging tone.
“Don’t try to flip the script, Marquise. I didn’t drag my ass in here at two-thirty in the morning—you did!”
“That ain’t the issue, Terelle. You all hyped because I took a goddamn shower.”
“Why shouldn’t I be upset? I mean…damn…you took a shower before you went out tonight, right? So why wouldn’t I be suspicious when you jump in the shower again—as soon as you get home?”
“Whatchu suspicious about?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she hissed. “It seems like you’re trying to hide the fact that you had sex with someone tonight.”
“Aw, shit!” he bellowed, then stood up and paced. “You need to check yourself ’cause this jealous shit ain’t gon’ git it. Damn, what happened? You used to be so cool, but it seems like you lettin’ that ice I put on your finger go to your head.”
Wearily, Terelle pushed back a wisp of hair that had fallen into her face. “Look, Marquise…something ain’t right. I can feel it and our engagement ain’t got shit to do with it. Just because I’m not willing to sit back and let you run all over me like you used to, don’t mean I’m the crazy bitch you’re tryin’ to make me out to be.”
“I didn’t call you a bitch,” he said in his defense.
“Whatever,” she replied. Then, eyeing him curiously, she raised a brow. “Why’d you knock me around like that? That’s suspicious, too.”
Marquise frowned. “Damn, Terelle. Stop blowin’ everything up! I didn’t hurt you, did I? You came at me swingin’—tryin’ to fight me like a man…Whatchu expect me to do?”
“I expect you to act like a man…not some punk-ass pussy who beats on women.”
Marquise’s face crumbled into a frown. He leaned to the side expressively. “Oh, now you tryin’ to say I beat your ass?” Marquise sighed heavily. “Tighten up, Terelle. you blowin’ this shit way outta proportion. I held you down—restrained you. That’s all.”
“You held me down and shook me like I was some crack head who owed you money,” she corrected.
Marquise sat down beside her; his expression softened. “You right, babe. I’m sorry. I was kinda rough with you, but you made me mad. You know I don’t like nobody to be puttin’ they hands on me. I snapped and I apologize.” Marquise stroked Terelle’s arm, then caressed the fine hair on the sides of her face. “I’m really sorry. You accept my apology?”
It would have been easy to accept his apology and leave it at that. But the knot of suspicion was still balled at the pit of her stomach, prompting Terelle to press further.
“I wish I could let this go, Quise. But I can’t. I have to know…” She paused, allowing her painful gaze to meet his eyes. “Were you sexually involved with someone tonight?”
This time Marquise didn’t make light of her inquiry. Wearing an angelic-looking expression, he shook his head. “No,” he said without so much as a blink. “The club was packed tight—niggas was up in there wall-to-wall. I danced a coupla times…It was hot as hell and you know how bad I sweat…”
Terelle instantly conjured a mental picture and swiftly shook it away. She didn’t like the idea of Marquise dancing delightedly and having a good time with some nasty-ass skank.
“I couldn’t get in bed with you smelling all funky and whatnot…so I took a shower.”
Terelle’s heart lightened. “Damn, Quise, why didn’t you say that when I first asked?
He shrugged. “You ain’t give me a chance. Before I could open my mouth, your little ass had balled up your fists and started flarin’ on me. If I ain’t know no better, I woulda thought I was in the ring with Tyson.” They both fell out laughing. The air was cleared and Marquise knew it was safe to joke.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Terelle asked, blushing.
“You got skills, girl,” he said, softening her further with a handsome grin that he knew she couldn’t resist. “Yo, if I didn’t know how to bob and weave, you woulda straight up knocked me out!” He demonstrated by leaning from side to side.
Marquise used humor to diffuse tense situations. It was a trait she’d always appreciated. His humor, however, was tinged with mockery, yet Terelle could not contain her laughter.
Marquise checked the bedside clock: 3:10 a.m. “Come on, babe,” he said, climbing into his side of the bed. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Happily, she got into bed. Facing him, she smoothed out his thick dark eyebrows, then ran her fingertip along his nose, outlined his lips. Marquise gave a low moan of appreciation. “I’m sorry, Quise,” Terelle whispered.
“Me, too,” he said. “Now, give me some sugar.” He scrunched up his lips; they kissed. But it was more a friendly smooch than the romantic kiss Terelle wanted.
“Night, babe,” Marquise said as he turned away from Terelle, pulling the comforter up to his neck.
She cuddled up behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. A sexual encounter wasn’t her primary objective; it was, however, the quickest route to the intimacy she desired.
Afraid he’d drift off to sleep, Terelle urgently rubbed his hip—his thigh. But Marquise didn’t stir. Boldly, she slipped her hand into the opening of his boxers in search of his loin. She fondled the flaccid flesh with the expectation that it would soon become rigid in her grasp.
Marquise inhaled and exhaled audibly; his breathing pattern soon changed to the sound of snoring. Terelle released his member, and slowly—reluctantly, withdrew her hand.
Lying on her back, she waited for the peace of slumber. Finally, sleep claimed her, but it did not bring her peace. In her tortured dream, she observed Marquise engaged in a seductive dance of betrayal. When the music finished playing, Marquise turned to leave the dance floor, but his partner, a nameless, faceless and relentless temptress, kept pulling him back onto the dance floor.
Chapter Twenty-four
One month later. As the 52 bus approached Girard Avenue, Terelle and Marquise stood up. Before dismounting the bus, Terelle, feeling too irritated to ignore the disrespect made it a point to grit on the freckle-faced woman who’d been flagrantly flirting with Marquise throughout the entire ride.
Every morning without fail, the moment Marquise and Terelle boarded the bus, some slimy female made it her business to send a flirtatious smile in Marquise’s direction. Terelle might as well have been invisible because her presence—the fact that she was sitting right next to him and wearing his ring—did nothing to deter this behavior. It was disgraceful the way they flaunted themselves, using provocative body language, seductive glances, shameless lip licking—anything to get Marquise’s attention.
And it irked Terelle to no end that Marquise didn’t put them in their places. He just sat there trying to play it off as if nothing foul were going on.
Every female in Philly,
it seemed, wanted to get with her man. She was so irritated, she could hardly appreciate the extra paycheck that his hard work and overtime for the past six weeks had brought into their household.
When he was broke and on house arrest, she’d had him all to herself. She was ashamed to admit it, but she missed those days when she had his ass on lock.
Terelle and Marquise crossed the street and walked toward the next bus stop on their journey to work.
Quietly seething, Terelle walked in silence, while Marquise made cheerful comments about Markeeta—how she no longer cried when they dropped her off at the day care center.
“You’re suddenly quite talkative, Marquise.” Terelle’s tone was sarcastic and confrontational. “You didn’t have too much rap while we were sitting on the bus. And since you never talk to me while we’re ridin’ the bus, it’s no wonder those tramps start their shit every morning. I mean…damn…how do you expect me to feel?”
“Huh?” Marquise attempted a puzzled expression, but Terelle wasn’t fooled.
“Don’t play dumb, Quise. I said how do you expect me to feel when I gotta put up with a bunch of bitches hittin’ on you so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started throwing their panties at you right there on the bus.” Terelle was talking fast and breathing hard. “I saw you and that freckle-faced jawn grinnin’ at each other—flirting right in my damn face!”
Marquise lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “You didn’t see me flirtin’ wit nobody. I can’t help it if those smuts be tryin’ to crack on me. I ain’t even look at that broad, so chill out.” His final words came out with a thick stream of smoke.
“Don’t be acting like you’re totally innocent?” Terelle gave a bitter laugh. “You could put a stop to all that bullshit if you didn’t try to act like you single.”
“How the hell did I act like I’m single?” Marquise’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace. “Yo, it’s too early in the morning for you to be startin’ your shit,” he said harshly.
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