She told herself that withdrawal symptoms were normal. After a lifetime of loving him, it would take a while to get Marquise completely out of her system.
“Mr. Bevel has a dental appointment. Would you take him downstairs to the dentist?” asked the charge nurse.
Wanting to keep busy so she wouldn’t have time to focus on Marquise, Terelle nodded and went to get the resident who was in his room. “How are you doing, Mr. Bevel?” Terelle patted the elderly man’s arm before gripping the handles of his wheelchair. “You have an appointment with the dentist. But don’t worry,” she said with a teasing grin. “You’re not getting your teeth pulled; you’re just gonna have a routine check-up.”
Uncomprehending, but responding to her pleasant disposition, the disoriented old man chuckled as Terelle pushed him out of his room and down the hall toward the elevator.
Terelle pushed the down button, but the elevator had a mind of its own and switched directions, going up instead of down. It stopped on the sixth floor. The doors opened and of all people, Danita, stepped inside. Terelle glared at her and Danita shifted her gaze. Panicked, Danita pushed the open door button, but the door refused to open. The elevator descended.
Terelle fixed a look of pure hatred on Danita’s downcast head.
Feeling Terelle’s hateful gaze, Danita looked up. “Why you grittin’ on me? You gotta problem—whassup?” Nervousness caused Danita’s voice to waver.
“Yeah, bitch. I got a big problem with you.” Terelle slammed the stop button, causing the elevator to stop between floors.
Unwilling to be stuck in the elevator with Terelle, Danita reached for the run button, but Terelle grabbed her hand.
“Oh hell no, bitch. It’s just you and me now.” She moved closer to Danita. “I got your little present and I didn’t like that shit one bit.”
“What?” Danita’s eyes bulged.
Terelle had considered Danita a nice-looking woman—slutty—but still nice-looking. However, this Danita, who was scared out of her wits, looked a hot mess!
“You fucked my fiancé and sent me the evidence. Now you wanna play dumb,” Terelle said, pointing a finger in Danita’s face as she backed her into a corner.
“Get your finger out of my face,” Danita demanded. Indignation replaced her fear. “Me and Marquise ain’t nothin’ but friends. You need to stop trippin’, you insecure bitch!”
Insecure bitch! The words echoed in Terelle’s head. Time seemed distorted, unreal. There was no conscious decision to physically lash out, and Terelle was as shocked as Danita when her fist smashed into the woman’s mouth. Blood gushed from Danita’s split lower lip, motivating her to fight back. Scratching, clawing—tearing at each other’s uniforms, swinging punches, and pulling hair, the two women tussled inside the elevator, falling on top of Mr. Bevel and toppling over his wheelchair.
Coming to her senses, Terelle instantly went to help Mr. Bevel. She pulled his wheelchair upright and gasped when she noticed a bluish-colored lump developing on the side of his face.
While Terelle tended to the resident, Danita quickly pushed the run button. When the elevator reached the first floor the two women were met by security.
For a stunned moment, the security guards were silent as they gaped at the carnage that had taken place in the elevator: Danita’s bloodied lip and scratched face, Terelle’s ripped uniform and the rapidly growing hickey on the resident’s head.
“What were y’all doing in there?” asked one of the security guards, his tone a mixture of shock and disgust.
“She attacked me!” Danita blurted.
“Oh my God, look at that poor man’s head,” yelled the other guard. “Call a code red,” he yelled to the receptionist at the front desk.
Mortified, Terelle listened in horror to the receptionist’s magnified voice over the intercom. “Code red, Code red. All licensed nurses please come to the first floor lobby.”
Running as if he had been murdered, nurses instantly swarmed around Mr. Bevel. They inspected the wound and took his vital signs, clicking their tongues and cutting narrow-eyed glances at the two culprits.
Security escorted Terelle and Danita to the nursing supervisor’s office where the two women would face disciplinary action.
As she mechanically piled chicken nuggets, broccoli, macaroni and cheese on Markeeta’s plate, Terelle wondered how her life had so swiftly gone from sheer bliss to such a horror story. She’d been suspended from her job without pay pending further investigation. Marquise had proven to be a cheating whore whose whereabouts were unknown. Her grandmother lay dying in a hospital room in Chester, Pennsylvania. Her aunt had chosen the worst time in the world to announce her homosexuality. And her mother, after all these years and despite the most convincing promises to get clean and stay clean, was still nothing but a crack head.
Looking down at her daughter, Terelle gave a wan smile and affectionately smoothed Markeeta’s hair. Markeeta was the one and only bright light in her life.
The peal of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. “Hello.”
“Hey, Terelle, this is Ayanna.”
“Hey, whassup?” Terelle said without emotion.
“I just called to check on Marquise. Is he back home?”
Terelle took a deep breath. “No. I thought he was staying with you and Jalil.”
“He was. But yesterday this chick came by to see Marquise and…”
“Who?” Terelle felt her face grow hot; her heart banged inside her chest.
“Girl, don’t get me to lyin’. I didn’t ask that hoe her name. She was light-skinned and slim with curly light-brown hair. She was dressed real fly and…oh yeah, she was driving a phat-ass Benz.”
“A Benz!” Warning bells sounded in Terelle’s head. Ayanna had to be talking about the same car Marquise had borrowed to drive her to Chester. It had to be the car he’d told her belonged to his business associate, Jocko. Marquise was such a fucking liar! “What color was the Benz?” Terelle asked suspiciously.
“Black.”
Ayanna’s response confirmed Terelle’s suspicions.
“Anyway, Sis came to my house and pounded on my fuckin’ door like she was the damn police. She demanded to talk to Marquise and when he came to the door, Sis started raisin’ all kinds of hell. She was screaming at him and accusing him of stealing her watch.”
Oh Lord, what’s going on? Terelle wondered. Was it a coincidence or was Ayanna referring to Marquise’s Cartier watch—the gift from his so-called business associates and the very watch she’d destroyed in anger?
“To hear Sis tell it,” Ayanna went on, “the damn watch was so expensive she had to insure it. She thought he had it stashed inside my house so she started threatening to send the cops to my crib.” Ayanna took a deep breath, then continued. “Now, girl you know I don’t need that kinda drama in my life. Me and my kids could end up out on the streets if those Section 8 people found out Jalil’s stayin’ with me. Shit, they’d probably try to lock my ass up if they knew I had Jalil and Marquise living here. So, I really didn’t have no choice…I had to ask Marquise to leave. But I told him he should call you to see if you’d let him come back home.” Ayanna paused, waiting for Terelle’s response.
“He didn’t call me, Ayanna. Do you think Jalil knows where he’s staying?”
“Nope. Jalil ain’t heard from him either. But check this…after they left, I peeked through the blinds and saw Marquise standing outside arguing with the chick. He looked real mad and walked away, but that hooker started following behind him in the car. I couldn’t see them after they got way down the street. That’s why I called—I just wanted to make sure he made it home okay ’cause I don’t know what was up with Sis. She seemed slightly scattered; you know what I mean? She had this crazy-ass look in her eyes…something about her just wasn’t right. Yeah, Sis was definitely scattered.”
Who in the hell is this light-skinned woman? Call it female intuition or just plain common sense, but whatever it was, Terelle was suddenly c
ertain that the mystery woman and not Danita had sent the nude photo of Marquise. And Marquise had been spending his weekends with that woman and not with the Jamaicans as he’d claimed.
What a sucker she’d been. Had Marquise been within her reach, Terelle knew she’d slap the shit out of him and then throw her hands up and fight like a man.
Needing a moment to seethe in private, Terelle thanked Ayanna for her concern and rushed her off the phone.
Anger as hot as fire consumed her. Disjointed thoughts and a million unanswered questions flitted through her mind. Terelle rubbed her temples and paced.
Markeeta threw a broccoli spear on the floor and gave her mother an impish grin. Now pacing in high gear, Terelle paid no attention to her daughter. Markeeta tossed a chicken nugget on the floor and studied her mother’s face. Still no response. She added a handful of macaroni to the smorgasbord on the floor, but her mother was too distracted to notice. Perplexed, Markeeta bit her bottom lip.
Terelle slipped on the mushy mixture and grabbed the countertop to prevent hitting the floor. She shot a glance at her daughter who sat in her high chair nibbling on her bottom lip, and to her dismay Terelle noticed that Markeeta was not only the spitting image of her daddy, but had also inherited his habit of biting his bottom lip.
Terelle gazed at her daughter, painfully aware that it didn’t matter if she kicked Marquise out…tore up his possessions…refused to wear his ring. None of those actions would change anything.
Of one thing she was certain; she was doomed to love Marquise until the day she died.
Chapter Forty-five
To no avail, Kai tried to placate Marquise. How long did he expect her to tolerate his brooding? For two nights in a row, he’d deliberately withheld sex.
On their first night together, she’d expected hot sex into the wee hours of the morning, but Marquise had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, forcing her to subdue the urges of her body with a vibrator. She’d hoped the loud whirring sound of the battery-operated apparatus would awaken him, but he sank into an even deeper sleep. He’d been a displaced person. Homeless. Going from pillar to post—sleeping on couches or other makeshift beds his friends from the slums offered had to be exhausting—thus Kai tried to forgive his rude behavior.
But his mistreatment of her tonight was inexcusable. How dare he lie in her bed with his back turned and with the covers tucked beneath him as if contact with her was akin to touching a leper or some other undesirable? After treating him to a steak dinner, Kai had expected a show of appreciation. Granted, the Outback Steakhouse wasn’t a five-star restaurant, but Marquise had made the selection. And in light of the fact that he’d been wearing the same scruffy work uniform for almost a week, the low-class eatery had been a damn good choice. Had he been wearing more appropriate attire, Kai would have insisted upon going somewhere tasteful like Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse.
She’d offered to buy him a new wardrobe, but he’d stubbornly declined, stating that he had a closet filled with clothes at home.
Whether he liked it or not, it would’ve behooved him to accept that his new home was with Kai.
Feeling horny to the point of considering rape, she determinedly placed an arm around him, snaked her hand beneath the comforter and began to caress his bulging deltoid.
Marquise awakened. Annoyed, he shook her hand off his shoulder.
Kai yanked the comforter from his body. “Let’s talk,” she said curtly.
Marquise bolted up and snatched the comforter from her grasp. He pulled it up to his shoulders, and angering her further, he pulled the comforter over his head.
“How long are you going to sulk?” she asked the form beneath the comforter. “Your attitude really sucks, you know.”
Marquise didn’t utter a sound.
“Why don’t you stop acting so childish?” She pulled the comforter off his head.
“I guess holding me hostage is real grown-up,” he retorted in a sleepy voice.
“I’m not holding you hostage. You’re free to leave whenever you want. I just thought you were ready to embrace a better lifestyle. I guess I was wrong. Go ahead…leave! Go back to that hellhole you have the audacity to refer to as home!”
Looking ready to sprint, Marquise threw off the comforter and sat up.
Kai hadn’t expected him to call her bluff. Her mind raced to come up with a different approach. “Are you content with your current mode of transportation?” she asked as she desperately grabbed the sleeve of his undershirt.
“What are you talking about?” Marquise asked, suddenly interested.
“I would die if I had to stand on corners waiting for buses, but if that makes you happy…” Her voice trailed off.
Marquise silently waited for Kai to continue.
“Are you ready to be upgraded to a more sophisticated mode of travel? If so, let me assure you…” Kai paused for effect. “I can make that happen.”
“Yo, speak English. Whatchu tryin’ to say?”
Kai chuckled. “What’s your pleasure? A new truck—a sports car?”
She suppressed a smug smile when she heard his audible intake of breath. She had the greedy bastard in the palm of her hands now!
Inching up close, Kai ran her fingernails lightly against his back. She whispered in his ear, “You’ll look good driving an F-150. I’ve seen the way you stare at the billboard advertising the new model.”
Marquise grunted a reply and propped himself up on an elbow.
“Do you want one, baby?” she cooed and began to place kisses up and down his arm, his neck, and his earlobe.
Marquise didn’t answer her question, but his lack of resistance informed Kai that he was ready to submit and give up some dick. Skillfully, she worked her fingers inside his boxers and instantly located her heart’s desire. A little friendly persuasion was all it had taken. The tough-guy act was just a façade. Marquise was putty in her hands.
Climbing over him, Kai disappeared beneath the covers and scooted downward. Lying on her side, facing him, she took his growing stiffness into her mouth and sucked softly—slowly. He responded with a low moan, which prompted her to quicken the pace. Like a baby starving for a bottle, she sucked hungrily.
“Stop!” Marquise groaned. He attempted to pull out, but Kai had a pit-bull hold on him and would not let go.
“Please, baby. Stop!” His voice was choked. “You gon’ make me cum.”
Kai stopped. She wiped her mouth, came up for air and looked him in the eye. “I don’t want you to cum—not yet. That would be tragic. My kitty cat is soaking wet. She misses you.”
He looked helpless and even emitted a slight whimper as she straddled him. Her eyes radiated triumph. She’d waited a long time for the rough ride that only her wild stallion could give.
“Now let me get this straight,” Saleema said, waving a colorfully manicured finger. “You fucked up the wrong bitch and lost your job over it?”
“No, I didn’t lose my job—not yet. The situation is under investigation. I’m on suspension without pay. I made a mistake; Marquise wasn’t fuckin’ with Danita.”
“You gonna apologize?”
“Hell no!” Terelle exclaimed vehemently. “That smut wanted to fuck Marquise! You should have seen the way she was riding his jock—throwing herself at him every chance she got. She deserved a beat down for disrespecting me like that.”
“Okay, so who sent this picture?” Saleema scrutinized the nude photo of Marquise. “Damn! Quise is sound asleep and his jawn is still lookin’ kinda husky. He must be hung like a horse when he’s wide-awake. No wonder he’s got all y’all goin’ the hell crazy!” Saleema said, laughing.
Terelle snatched the photo out of Saleema’s hands. “Stop playing—this is serious.”
“Sorry.” Sitting in a chair at Terelle’s kitchen table, Saleema assumed an upright position and mimicked a serious expression.
“I don’t know who sent the damn thing,” Terelle said solemnly. “Ayanna described her…said
she was tall and skinny…a yella bitch with light-brown curly hair.” Terelle paused in thought. “Oh yeah, and she drives a black Benz. I’ve seen the car, but I don’t know who she is. But I know one thing: when I find out…that slut is gonna seriously regret causing all this confusion in my life.” There was steel in Terelle’s voice.
Briefly pensive, Saleema cleared her throat. “I think you’re mad at the wrong person. That chick…whoever she is…don’t owe you a damn thing. But, Marquise…Now, that muthafucker owes you the world.”
“I’m not saying that Marquise is innocent, but according to Ayanna…Marquise didn’t even want to deal with that crazy bitch. Ayanna said the chick was a real nut case—making threats like she had something on him.”
Saleema gave Terelle an inquiring gaze, which urged her to continue.
“She’s blackmailing him,” Terelle said. “I know it. There’s no way Marquise would let all these days go by without calling to check on Keeta.”
“Get real. Look at his track record. Marquise ain’t gotta be blackmailed into sticking his dick into some new coochie?”
Terelle stared off thoughtfully. “Think what you want. You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand,” Saleema insisted. “As your friend, I have to tell you…you sound like a fuckin’ nut talkin’ this blackmail shit. Why are you making excuses for him? Why are you allowing Marquise to treat you like you ain’t shit?”
Terelle flinched as if she’d been smacked upside the head. She instantly began massaging both temples.
“Look at you! You’re not gonna be satisfied until you rub out all the hair around your temples.”
Unaware that she’d been massaging her temples, Terelle looked perplexed and then yanked her hands away from her head.
“That’s just what’s gonna happen if don’t stop worrying about Marquise.” Saleema wagged a warning finger. “Another thing…” she continued, “You been kickin’ ass over Marquise since middle school and now you wanna fight the latest skeezer as if that’s gonna put a stop to his cheating. It’s not. An ass whoopin’ might make the chick rethink the situation, but Quise will be already plotting on the next jawn.”
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