by Tina Martin
“I am about something. I got two gyms, employees and you should know I’m currently in the market for a house.”
Amira choked with laughter. “Ma, do you hear this ridiculousness?”
“You think it’s a joke but don’t sleep. Ya boy been putting in work. Tell her, Ma.”
“It’s no joke, Mira,” Florence said sitting at the table, releasing a deep sigh. “He’s actually looking for a house.”
Amira set a plate in front of her. “That’s a first. I thought that townhouse would serve as your bachelor pad until the world’s end. I guess you ran out of room for the number of women who need to be up in there, huh?”
“You don’t know me at all, do you?” Mordecai asked. “Who do you think I am, Mira?”
“A man who doesn’t know what he wants,” she said setting his plate on the table in front of him.
“You mean like your ex-boyfriend?”
“Don’t bring that loser into this discussion, we’re talking about you.”
Mordecai’s eyes followed her to the stove when he said, “If we are products of our circumstances and if our opinions are formed by personal experiences, you think I am to women what your ex was to you. No good. That’s a harsh way to view your brother.”
“In Amira’s defense, you have been pretty fond of the ladies, son, and you’ve never brought one home to meet your Mother. So, is buying a house a sign of the new and improved Mordecai? Is there a woman in the picture? A serious one, and if so, when are you bringing that nice girl home to meet your Mama?”
Amira snickered. “What nice girl?”
“Simmer down ladies,” Mordecai said.
“Don’t tell me to simmer down, boy. Imma hit you over the head with this spoon.”
“Get him, Ma,” Amira said laughing.
“See, that’s why I haven’t brought a girl here. I don’t want her to witness this—you’re threatening to do me bodily harm and my sister has such a negative view of me. How will that make for a great first impression?”
“Ah, so you want to impress this girl,” Florence said. “Tell me more. What’s her name?”
Mordecai took a big, heaping spoonful of macaroni and chewed.
“Oh, the mac and cheese got his tongue now, Ma.”
Mordecai washed his food down with a long swig of water. “I’m not seeing anyone, so y’all can stop the interrogation. By the way, Ma, dinner is absolutely fantastic. Everything is.”
“Imma tell you the same thing I told Harding—get you a woman who can cook like your Mama. You’ll be happy for the rest of your life.”
Mordecai smiled thinking about that. Could Jemisha cook? Probably. She looked like the cooking type. Then again, she also looked like the workaholic type. The kind of woman who’d stretch herself thin to make sure her business was a success. When would she have time to cook after running around all day showing houses?
“What if I get a woman who can’t cook?” he asked his mother.
“Lawd…” Florence said shaking her head. “I guess I could teach her some things, but that’ll lead me to question what the girl learned from her own mama. If she ain’t learn how to cook from her mama, then what did she learn. You best believe, whoever that is Amira been talking to and being all giggly with on that phone—he gon’ enjoy them meals she cooks ‘cause I taught my girls how to cook.”
Amira smiled.
“You taught all of us,” Mordecai said. “I know a thing or two.”
“Mama ain’t talking about canned soup and oodles and noodles.”
Florence cracked up laughing. “Good one, Amira.”
Mordecai went back to eating, thinking about how lucky he and his siblings were to have a mother like Florence. She always cooked and made sure they were well taken care of. She was a good woman. She had plenty to offer a man – a good man – in the way of being a dutiful wife and companion. He always wanted that for her, but he couldn’t make her move on after having her heart crushed by their father. He glanced up at her and asked, “So, Ma, how are you doing?”
“I’m doing just fine, son.”
“I know you’re doing fine. You’re my mother—the definition of a strong, black woman. What I’m asking is, how are you doing with all the new transitions in your life?”
“You mean with Harding and Zoya moving away?”
“Yes, and the fact that we’ve connected with the other half of our family.”
“Not our family. Your family,” she said referring to her children’s half-siblings – Dante, Dimitrius and Desmond Champion.
“Yes, with them,” Mordecai said.
“Well, I really don’t have any dealings with them so it’s not an adjustment for me. I miss Harding and Zoya from time-to-time, especially when we have dinners like this, but it’s okay. Zoe calls me almost everyday unlike y’all knuckleheads.”
Amira placed a glass on the table after she took a drink. “But we’re still here, Ma.”
“Exactly. Don’t know what you got until it’s gone, do ya?”
Amira glanced at Mordecai. He gave a lazy smile. One of those worried ones. Their mother was a master at hiding her true feelings and being the strong black woman who had to wear the hat of both parents. She was good at making everyone think she was just fine, but women weren’t designed to carry the weight a man was supposed to shoulder, and that’s what Florence had done her whole life.
His father failed in that regard. Failed miserably. He was a man who had two families. Two women. Two sets of children. His mother was the other woman – his sweet mother – the one who didn’t get the ring. The commitment. The fancy house. The family togetherness. And, according to Florence, he claimed he’d loved her.
If that was love, he wanted nothing to do with the word. And so that’s how he lived his life. Loveless. There were women who wanted more, but he didn’t have more to give. He was a product of his father – a man who couldn’t commit and be faithful. A man who’d end up hurting whoever thought she could change him. He couldn’t be that man to hurt a woman. He’d witnessed unbearable hurt in his mother’s eyes every time the subject of his father came up.
Florence took a sip of lemonade and said, “As for the other half of your family, I’m glad you know your half brothers. I truly am. Can’t blame them for what your father did.”
Mordecai grimaced.
From his peripheral vision, he could see Amira giving him the signal to end the conversation. Probably a good idea before his mother got emotional. So, he ended it.
“I’m thinking about going up there soon for a visit—see what my children are up to,” Florence said.
“That’ll be nice,” Amira said, “Especially since I didn’t get to go with Mordecai on his last visit. You down, Mordecai?”
“Nah,” he said, standing up with his plate and walking over to the stove to get more macaroni. “I got a house to buy.”
“What’s the rush?” Amira asked.
“There is no rush. It’s a pending item on my to-do list. I want it done.”
“Oh. Excuse me, boss.”
He rejoined them at the table, plowed through a second helping of macaroni and said, “The food was fantastic as always, Mother, but it’s Sunday night and that means I have to prep for work in the morning.”
“More like prep to see that girl you’ve been hiding,” Amira said. “Imma find out who she is.”
Mordecai got up from the table, kissed his mother’s temple then plucked Amira on the back of her head. “Stay out of my business, girl.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said. “If you stop treating me like a child, I’ll stay out of your business.”
He grinned. That was an offer he wasn’t about to accept.
“Hey, take a piece of that coconut cake with you, son,” Florence said.
“Oh, you already know I’m not leaving here without a piece of that.” He cut a slice, wrapped it up, then headed out the door.
* * *
At home, he sat behind the computer a
nd paid bills for the gym operations – the leases, the electric and utility bills, the water deliveries and equipment repairs. Then he checked his email. A smile came to his face when he saw a new one from Jemisha:
From: Rayford Real Estate
To: Mordecai Champion
Subject: 1024 Arboretum Circle Place
<
Good afternoon Mordecai,
I hope this email finds you well. I’ve found a property that touches all the bases we talked about on Friday. Can you meet me there tomorrow at 6 p.m.? It’s at 1024 Arboretum Circle Place.
Thanks.
Jemisha Rayford
Real Estate Agent
He checked the timestamp on the email. She’d sent the message two hours ago. He responded right away but not to her email. He sent a text message instead.
Mordecai: Just saw your email.
Jemisha: Okay…is that a good time for you?
Mordecai: Sure. It’s a date.
Jemisha: Not a ‘date’. It’s an appointment.
Mordecai: You weren’t saying that Friday night
Jemisha: See you at 6.
Mordecai: 10-4 Jemima, I mean Jemisha
An appointment…
After splurging on wine the other night, now she was trying to be all professional. Mordecai replayed how laid back and relaxed she was. Did she really think they would go back to professionalism after that? He certainly didn’t.
He clicked on the attachment she’d sent – the information sheet on the house. Upon seeing the picture, it was love at first sight. The front yard was plentiful. The house sat back off the road with a substantial driveway. He couldn’t wait to see it in person to determine if the inside was just as gorgeous as the outside. With a property this amazing on paper, it had to be – at least he hoped it was.
Chapter 11
Operation Make-Him-Run was fixin’ to be on and poppin’.
Jemisha walked to the bathroom in her office suite and attempted to make herself look as disheveled as she possibly could. She washed the makeup off of her face and attempted to scrub off the red lip-stain with a paper towel.
It was of no use.
Stupid lip-stain was doing its job…
Oh well…
She made up for it by brushing her hair back into a ponytail then raking some strands loose to give herself that just-crawled-out-of-bed look. She laughed at how ridiculous she looked in the mirror.
She took off a pair of black heels and replaced them with some white Reeboks. They certainly didn’t go well with a mustard-colored blouse and lime green skirt. The colors were a stretch together in themselves.
As a finishing touch, she removed all jewelry before heading to her car. After plugging in the address for the Arboretum Circle house into GPS, she followed the directions there, tearing up a chocolate bar on the way. Sugar always made her hyper so it would definitely throw off her otherwise normal personality a bit – just enough to make Mordecai wonder what he was dealing with.
She wasn’t surprised to see he’d arrived early since he knew she had a habit of getting to properties early for a walkthrough. Now, they had to see the property together for the first time.
She didn’t like that one bit, but it was what it was. Hopefully, after today, he’d be turned off enough to go running to some other agency.
She pulled into the driveway beside his car, jumped out – literally – grabbed her bag and rushed to the front door without even acknowledging his presence even though she saw him walking in her direction. She entered the code to get the house key from the padlock. Good ol’ fashioned real estate house hunting…
Mordecai frowned when he took the steps up to the beautiful brick home. Who was this mismatched chick unlocking the door, looking like she’d been wrestling a wildebeest? Was that Jemisha? What in the name of…?
“Um, hi,” he said. “Do you need some help with that?”
“Nah. I got this,” she said, attempting to wiggle the key out of the slot. She was struggling, but she didn’t want him to know that.
“Here, let me—”
“Back it up, buster! I said I got this.”
“Buster?” Mordecai laughed. “You look like you literally just woke up. What did you do? Catch a nap at work?”
“You ‘bout to catch these hands if you don’t back up. I said get back,” she growled, snatching the key but breaking a nail in the process. She snatched her hand back. “Ouch.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She unlocked the door and stepped in the foyer. The grand, two-level foyer.
He stepped in, too, but instead of being in awe of the breathtaking entrance, he was looking at her. She looked grumpy and sweaty. Had she come from her office like this?
“Are you okay today?” he decided to ask.
“I’m fine. I broke a freakin’ nail. I’ll live.”
“I’m not talking about the nail, sweetheart. You’re a lil’ off today.” He grinned.
“You’re a lil off!” she shot back, sounding juvenile – just the way she intended.
His eyebrows raised. What happened to the woman who had it all together? She certainly didn’t have anything together today. He didn’t know what to make of it. Was she off her meds? Was she on meds? Did she have a horrible day? What in the world happened?
“Okay, let’s get this road on the show,” Jemisha said. “Look at this foyer. Isn’t it lovely?” she asked him while she pranced around, spinning like a ballerina on opioids. “This, I’m sure, is one of the major selling points of the house. Who wouldn’t step into this place and just be in complete and utter awe?”
Awe was the opposite of what he was feeling at the moment. More like shock. Confusion. How had she gone from prim and proper to looking like she’d stuck a butter knife in an outlet? Why was her blouse sweaty like she didn’t have AC in her car? Looked like she’d driven from her office to the house in sweltering, August heat. And what was that splattered on her blouse? Melted chocolate?
“Hold on, babygirl.”
“I’m not your babygirl. I told you we need to—to—to keep this professional.”
“Right…” She looked like she had a fight with a chocolate chip cookie and she wanted to keep something professional. “Okay, um—well I’m going to go.”
Jemisha panicked. No, he couldn’t leave. Not yet. She wasn’t done with him yet. “Wait—where are you going? I haven’t shown you the property yet?”
“Yeah, and you won’t be showing it to me today. I don’t know who this person is but you’re acting weird—I’m considering calling you an ambulance.”
Jemisha threw a hand on her hip. “For what? I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Mordecai sighed. She was playing with him, right? She had to be. “Okay. Just hurry up and get this over with.”
“Shh. Just like a man. Want to get everything over with quickly. Be patient, boy.” She saw the deep frown on his forehead and literally had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Her plan was working. After today, she’d be rid of him. She didn’t even care about losing out on a home sale. Her sanity was more important than money wasn’t it?
Wasn’t it??
She brought her hands to a clap. The sound echoed in the empty house. She began talking about the features of the living room, then led him into the family room.
“Isn’t this off the freakin’ chain? And look at that fireplace. In the wintertime, it’s gon’ be lit! Get it? Lit.” She cracked up laughing.
His eyes narrowed.
There are a bunch of stainless steel appliances up in this kitchen, too. What do you think about that?”
He tore his attentiveness from her and her weird behavior to look at the appliances – the stove, refrigerator and dishwasher. “Nice touches, that’s for sure.”
“Awesome!” she said in a singsongy way. “And look at these granite countertops. There’s even a wine fridge! Bet you and yo’ girlfriends gon’ love that, huh?”
“I don’t
have girlfriends.”
“Lies! You ain’t gotta lie to me. I’m just trying to sell you a house—no a hizzouse as you call it. What you do with it is yo’ business. Now, let’s proceed to the sunroom,” she said, taking off in a full sprint. “Look at this. This is a dream. You can come out here and do your morning jump jacks and pushups.” She changed her accent to sound British when she said, “Or perhaps you want some fresh air and in that case, make your way to the screened-in terrace. I don’t know if you noticed when you drove up, but the landscaping is impeccable, I tell you—just impeccable.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Can you picture yourself sipping coffee or them cocaine-filled energy drinks while enjoying the view of the expansive backyard?”
Mordecai had his eyes on her – not the sunroom. He was trying to figure out what was off about her. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t pay attention to the house for worrying about her.
“Do you see this? Look at this, Champ. Look…”
“Yeah. It’s, um…it’s nice.”
“You doggone right it is!” she said slapping his arm. “Come on. Let’s run upstairs.”
And she literally ran up the stairs.
“Ay, slow down, girl before you fall.”
“I’m not going to fall. Come on. Let’s go, big guy. I got things to do. People to see. Money to make. What’s wrong wit’chu? You can’t jog up a few stairs. Supposed to be all muscly and personal train-ish and you can’t handle a few stairs. Boooo!”
When Jemisha stepped into the master bedroom, she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Mordecai was halfway up the stairs when he heard her. He took off running, fearing something had happened to her. Was someone in the house? Did she find a dead body? A spider? He didn’t know what to think. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked in a panic when he ran into the room.