Angry now, she directed her feelings toward the day care center. There was probably nothing really wrong with Markeeta that they couldn’t handle; they were just trying to get out of doing their job. They sent kids home over dumb shit like a runny nose or the sniffles—she doubted if Markeeta was seriously ill.
Prepared to wait at least five or ten minutes, Terelle sat down on the bench in front of the elevators. Heavy heels clicking against the tiled floor caught her attention. She glanced up and looked back down instantly. That snippy half-white social worker was prancing down the hall, taking long important strides as if she owned the nursing home.
There were two offices at the end of the corridor: the Recreation Therapist’s office and the Social Worker’s office. Terelle wondered fearfully if Marquise had been cleaning the social worker’s office. She hoped not. She’d heard that the social worker had accused Spencer of sexual harassment and had almost gotten him fired. The last thing she and Marquise needed was a sexual harassment charge. She’d have to warn Marquise to steer clear of that trouble-making woman.
Curiously, Terelle peeked up and observed Kai’s attire as she swung open the door of the women’s rest room. Kai had on a short wool skirt and a pretty satin blouse—her fly-ass boots had laces and shit hanging all off the sides. Damn! Terelle had to give the woman her props—the bitch could dress.
Oh well, Terelle’s day was coming. Once she and Marquise were married she could start nursing school. After she graduated and started bringing home some real money, her wardrobe would start looking a hell of a lot better.
Marquise returned to the floor breathless. “Come on, babe. Let’s roll.” Terelle got up and walked to the elevator.
“Let’s take the stairs,” he said impatiently.
Terelle didn’t feel like taking the stairs. She responded with a headshake and grimace and pushed the down button. “Did Mr. Hicks say you could leave?”
“Yo, babe. I’m a grown man; I didn’t ask for no damn permission. I told ’em my baby girl was sick—told ’em I was out and I’d see ’em tomorrow.”
At that moment Kai came out of the bathroom surrounded by a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume. She glanced over at Marquise and Terelle and momentarily froze. She opened her mouth to say something—but apparently changed her mind. Stunned, she looked Terelle up and down, stumbled slightly, turned around and stared at them again, then resumed walking. Kai threw her head up high, moved down the corridor swinging her arms and swaying her small hips with the vigor and pomposity of a runway model.
Terelle felt offended and took it personal.
“Goddamn! I know she thinks she’s grand and all that, but damn…the way she walked away was kinda whack. Did you see the way she was grittin’ on me? Looking me up and down? That was crazy. You think she was in the bathroom getting high?”
Marquise scowled in thought and then walked over and jabbed the down button twice. “I wasn’t even paying her no mind; I don’t know whassup with Shorty. I mind my own business.”
“Sis got issues,” Terelle said. “Marquise, make sure you stay out of her way. I heard she be trying to get niggas fired left and right around here.”
The elevator arrived, but Terelle still had Kai on the brain. “Were you cleaning her office or the Recreation office?” Terelle asked.
“Recreation,” he responded without hesitation and stepped into the elevator.
Markeeta had a low-grade temperature. Nothing serious. Terelle had to force a spoonful of Children’s Tylenol into her mouth and down her throat. A half-hour later, Markeeta was fast asleep.
Marquise was aiming the remote when Terelle noticed the watch again. Walked over and examined it.
“That’s a nice watch; looks brand-new.”
“It is. White dude that runs the kitchen had just bought it.”
“Get out! Cliff hangs out in the locker room shooting craps with y’all?”
Grinning, Marquise dug into his pockets and pulled out two of the five twenties Kai had given him. “He lost more than his watch today.” He handed Terelle one of the bills. “Here’s some lunch money,” he said, laughing.
Smiling while shaking her head in resignation, Terelle took the twenty. “Seriously, be careful, Quise. You never know who’s a snitch on the job. If you keep winning from Cliff, the next thing you know, your black ass will be terminated.”
“Damn, Terelle. Why you always worrying about everything? Cliff’s aiight—he’s down.”
“Keep on believing that. Didn’t I tell you about the time they had this undercover dude in there acting like he was in the Housekeeping Department? He got a whole lotta people fired. He even got some people locked up.”
“You lyin!” Marquise blurted, laughing.
“I ain’t lyin’. Ask anybody on the job about it. A couple of the young adult residents and about three or four staff members was led off the premises in handcuffs.”
Marquise let out a loud guffaw of disbelief.
“I’m serious—they did a drug bust right there on the job. Took the two employees out in handcuffs and I swear—my hand to God—the cops took the young adult residents outta there handcuffed to their wheelchairs. I don’t know how they kept that shit out of the news. That should have been the top story of the day…”
“You got jokes,” he said, laughing hard.
“I ain’t lyin’, Quise. You were locked up at the time and I didn’t tell you ’cause I probably didn’t wanna waste our precious minutes talking about my damn job. But seriously, that shit really happened. The undercover dude used to hang out in the locker room chillin’ with everybody. That’s how he found out who was selling weed and cain and shit.”
“Selling weed and cain to who?”
“Niggas on the job be sellin’ to the residents and to each other.” Terelle was thoughtful for a moment. “Check this out! We usta have this old-ass resident who could make wine out of the juice that comes up on the trays.”
“How?” Marquise sucked his teeth.
“He used juice and pieces of bread and some other shit to make wine. He’d wheel around snatching juice off of other residents’ trays and then he’d hoard the shit in his room in a big old nasty container. I think he used to mix it up in his urinal.”
Looking sickened, Marquise asked, “Urinal? What’s that? You talkin’ ’bout them nasty-lookin’ plastic piss jars wit the hook?”
“Yup.”
“Aiight, Terelle that’s enough—you making my stomach hurt. Let’s change the subject ’cause I ain’t feelin’ none of this shit you talkin’. Them old dudes and even some of the young ones be turnin’ my stomach the way they ride around in their wheelchairs wit their piss jar strapped to the side of the chair. Ain’t no shame in their game—they be ridin’ around actin’ like carryin’ a piss jar is as normal as carryin’ a forty-ounce bottle of Hurricane.”
“Hold up—hold up,” Terelle said through her laughter. “Dude had one of them electric wheelchairs and he’d get so drunk, he’d be wheelin’ around the facility real fast, runnin’ over the old people’s feet…”
Marquise let out a loud guffaw. “Stop playin’. How come I ain’t seen no drunk old people?”
“Give it time. You will. You haven’t been there long enough to peep all the behind-the-scenes shit that goes on. I’m just trying to let you know that we don’t work at no innocent rest home. A lot of our residents are old ass ex-cons, too sick to be kept in prison, so they ship ’em to the County Nursing Home to spend their last days. And most of the younger residents got messed up from either doing or selling drugs. Some of ’em caught AIDS from contagious needles…”
“They got people with AIDS up in there?”
“Uh-huh. There’s an HIV wing on the third floor.”
“Damn, that’s the floor I was working on.” Marquise looked troubled.
“You can’t catch nothing from cleaning the floors.”
Still looking troubled, Marquise asked, “Do you be cleaning those AIDS people?”
<
br /> “Uh-huh. Sometimes…when I’m pulled to that floor.”
“Babe, that don’t seem safe.”
“It’s cool. I’m careful when I have to give them care. Besides, I’m not having sex with any of ’em. The people you gotta look out for are the people like Danita! Tramps like her be carrying diseases but don’t nobody know about it.”
“Aw, shit. Here we go again. I ain’t fucking Danita or nobody else.”
“Anyway,” Terelle continued, “like I was saying…some of them young residents had strokes from hitting the pipe—or they got shot in the back—or hit upside the head with metal pipes for fucking up somebody’s money while they was out there hustlin’. In other words, we take care of drug addicts, criminals, ex-playas…the same types you were locked up with and that’s why the administration be having undercover cops all up in the joint. So be careful with that gambling, Quise. Please!”
“Aiight…I feel you.” Marquise pulled Terelle onto his lap. “You so cute when you be making up shit—trying to scare me straight, huh?”
“I’m serious, Quise. Ask Spencer. He knows about the drug bust. Shit…everybody knows about it.”
Marquise kissed the back of her neck. “Check this, babe…why don’t you take off that nursing uniform and let me hollah at you real quick.”
“Oh, you tryin’ to hollah?” Terelle asked sexily.
Nodding, Marquise grazed his lower lip and started pulling up Terelle’s top.
“Wait. I’m all sweaty…and you ain’t smelling too sweet yourself. Let’s take a shower together—then you can scream at me all night long if you’re up to it.”
Holding Marquise’s hand, Terelle led him into the shower.
Chapter Thirty-six
Kai had been prepared to lash into Marquise for not telling her his girl worked at the nursing home, but when she heard his low sexy voice on the phone requesting to get together on Friday night, she decided to let it go—for the moment.
She surprised him with a trip to Borgata, the largest and newest casino in Atlantic City and gave him five crisp one hundred-dollar bills to play with. His eyes lit up like she’d given him five thousand. Amazingly, he’d never even been inside a casino before. What a hood rat!
Later, pretending to be too tired to drive home, she convinced him to stay over. She secretly reserved a plush room with a panoramic ocean view and other amenities. He was so impressed, they stayed the entire weekend. Heating up the sheets and steaming the windows, Kai and Marquise tried practically every position in the Kama Sutra. Kai had intended to check out the spa and fitness center, but whenever she and Marquise came up for air from their sexual marathon, they’d order room service and soak together in the luxurious oversized sunken tub, and start all over again.
“Now, this is whassup!” he said, referring to the sunken tub. “I ain’t sat inside a bathtub since I was a little kid. It’s too uncomfortable. My legs are too long for a regular-sized bathtub,” he said, reminiscing.
“Aw, poor baby,” Kai said before dunking her head underwater to give him an aquatic blowjob. After their bath, she rubbed him down with the oversized complementary cotton bath sheet, and Marquise’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as if she were still giving him head.
Despite the expensive good treatment and all the good sex she was giving him, ever so often, she’d catch him whispering into the phone—no doubt, talking to his girlfriend—concocting some story for his absence. Ha!
Kai didn’t mention the clandestine calls. She refused to insult herself by questioning him about a woman who scooped poop for a living. That girlfriend of his was tacky beyond belief. She had hairy legs and hair on the side of her face—sideburns for Chrissakes! She seriously needed some electrolysis. Kai shuddered to think what her furry muff must have looked like.
The poop-scooping wanna-be nurse would find out soon enough that she was no competition for Kai.
Marquise was where he wanted to be—with her in Atlantic City and he wasn’t going back to his dreary abode any time soon. Apparently, little nursy had no power whatsoever. Kai would send Marquise back when she was good and ready, and judging by the way that he continually hit her spot with his long-lasting big dick, only God knew when she’d relinquish him—perhaps she’d keep him for an additional week, Kai thought maliciously. No one had ever made her cum like he did. She paused and gave that admission some thought and agreed with herself: nope, not a soul. Marquise had the dick of life.
That Ms. Nubia bitch may have gotten away with stealing Kenneth, but Kai would be damned if she’d let another black bitch take a man from her.
The mood was tense when they checked out of the hotel on Sunday afternoon. After such a great weekend, Kai was surprised by Marquise’s gloomy disposition. On their way to the elevators that would take them to the parking garage, Kai chattered gaily, but Marquise, in a pensive mood, barely uttered a word. Kai assumed he was worrying about that hairy hussy he’d left at home; he was most likely trying to contrive a plausible explanation for his three-day disappearing act. Well, he’s shit out of luck if he expects me to rush back to Philly just to appease his girlfriend. I’ll take him home when I’m good and damn ready.
After experiencing the luxurious Borgata, why in God’s name would he wish to hurry to some uninhabitable hole in the wall to be with a snot-nosed child and a disgruntled ghetto girl? And where the hell was home? He’d vaguely mentioned living somewhere in Southwest Philly, but was extremely secretive about the precise location. Kai wanted his exact address, but his morose mood discouraged her from pressing the issue. She’d bide her time and find out everything she needed to know about Marquise Whitsett and that girlfriend of his.
“Want some lunch?” she asked cheerfully as they walked toward an Italian restaurant inside the casino.
“Naw, I’m tryin’ to get back to Philly. I got some business to take care of.”
Kai wanted to laugh. Business my ass! “Oh yeah? What kind of business are you involved in?”
“Personal business. Whassup with the third degree?” Marquise said contemptuously. An uneasy silence hung in the air.
Feeling offended by his tone, Kai left Marquise standing alone as she crossed to the other side of the crowded shopping area. Looking through the window of a jewelry shop, she leisurely browsed. She’d be damned if she would allow Marquise to hurry her along. He had to be crazy if he thought she was going to zip through traffic so he could rush home to his little urchin and his so-called fiancée. The hell with him and his fucked-up little family.
Relying on Kai for a ride home, Marquise had no choice but to follow her, but refusing to stand next to her and gawk through the glitzy window, he stood with his back turned.
“Look, Marquise. Do you like that ring?”
He turned around reluctantly, then seeing that it was a man’s ring, he nodded, but with minimal enthusiasm. She pointed at a variety of interesting pieces of jewelry and then suggested they go inside. His ugly mood switched to jovial the instant they crossed the threshold of the jewelry shop.
For over an hour, Kai insisted he try on a number of rings, but his eyes kept resting on the wristwatches behind the glass case. Then, she remembered his penchant for watches and asked the salesman to open the glass case that displayed men’s watches.
They chose a classy Cartier watch. It cost twenty two-hundred dollars. The dick-on-demand was getting expensive!
After a pleasant lunch in a posh restaurant that provided Marquise with a jacket and tie, they jumped on the Expressway and headed for Philly. Marquise popped a five-dollar bootleg CD into the player. Risking a migraine, Kai endured listening to the endless ranting by the various rap artists featured on the CD.
They rode over the Benjamin Franklin Bridge and instead of intersecting onto I-76, a route that would lead to the University City exit, which was somewhere near the vicinity of his home, Kai detoured to Penn’s Landing. She decided that having to listen to nonstop insanity for over an hour entitled her to another shot of d
ick.
Marquise, focused on the enclosed booklet that came with his new Cartier watch, did not notice that they were en route to Kai’s condominium.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Terelle brought her leg up high as she climbed inside Saleema’s SUV, Jezebel. “I can’t believe I’m letting you drag me out on a Sunday night to go hang out with the old heads at Club Beyond. I’m really not feelin’ no damn oldies tonight,” Terelle grumbled.
“Stop complaining. We’re just gonna fall back, have a few drinks and kick it with the old heads. I might make a new connect and your dumb ass won’t be sittin’ around the house lookin’ depressed waitin’ around for Marquise.”
Changing the subject, Terelle said, “Club Beyond has a black clientele.”
“So!”
“I thought you didn’t mess with black men.”
“I don’t—not usually. But I’m doing this for you. You wouldn’t want to go where I usually hang.”
“And where’s that?”
“Various hotel bars. Yeah, girl, I be gittin’ it in with the rich white tourists at the Ritz-Carlton, the Four Seasons…but I know that ain’t your type of party, so we gonna hang with our own peeps tonight.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to sit around in no oldies dip; why can’t we hang at Chrome or somewhere that’s poppin’?”
“Because them young bucks ain’t tryin’ to part with their cash—you can’t even get a damn drink outta their tight asses. Them old heads might not be rich, but they sittin’ on somethin’—they been on their jobs for years and most of ’em have phat bank accounts and a decent amount of credit cards.”
“It just don’t feel right to be goin’ out when I know I’m not gonna have a good time,” Terelle whined.
Saleema gave Terelle a long disgusted look. “How long has Quise been MIA? Three damn days…right?”
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