2 Timers

by Amaleka McCall

“Lyric! Lyric!” Kim screeched at the top of her lungs.

  * * *

  Lyric’s eyes hooded over, and her nostrils went wide.

  “Lyric! Wait. Just listen,” Kim pleaded, stumbling off the bed and tangling in the sheets, trying in vain to keep her naked body covered. “I . . . I can explain everything,” Kim stammered.

  “What the fuck . . .” Rebel panted, springing to his feet. “Yo, Lyric, what you doing here?” he gasped, his dick still hard and aiming straight at Lyric.

  Lyric wished she had a kitchen knife nearby so she could sever his shit in one fell swoop. The heat that engulfed her body was enough to set the entire place on fire. She bit her bottom lip so hard, it began to bleed. The metallic taste of blood on her tongue reminded her that this was all too real, and not just a bad dream.

  Rebel recognized the fire flashing in her eyes and slowly backed away. There was an urgency in the air that seemed to have them all trembling.

  “Lyric, just listen . . . wait,” he said, moving toward her apprehensively. “Let me explain . . .”

  Lyric’s fists curled at her sides and before Rebel could say another word, she launched herself into him.

  “You fucking bastard! I can’t believe you did this to me!” Lyric screeched, her arms flying wildly as she landed punches to Rebel’s face and chest. Kim tried to slide around Rebel, but Lyric was too fast for her.

  Lyric caught her ex-best friend by her long, straight hair and yanked her down hard to the floor.

  “You backstabbing bitch,” Lyric spat as she wrapped her fist with Kim’s hair and tugged viciously. “You tried to kill me, and then you turned around and fucked my man!”

  Kim squealed like a stuck pig and crumpled to her knees. Lyric kneed her in the face and blood spurted from her nose. Lyric didn’t care about anything anymore. She slammed wildly thrown fists into Kim’s face with so much force, she heard cracking noises. She didn’t know if it was her knuckles or Kim’s jaw breaking. She didn’t care.

  “Oh, shit! Lyric! What the fuck are you doing?” Rebel hollered.

  Lyric spit at him as he tried to grab her. White-hot angry tears spilled from her eyes, and she wavered unsteadily on her feet. Suddenly weak, she tossed Kim like a ragdoll to the floor.

  Kim frantically scrambled away from Lyric and cowered in the corner, whimpering in fear.

  “C’mon, Lyric. Calm down—” Rebel started, his trembling hands up in front of him.

  “Don’t you fucking tell me to do anything,” Lyric screamed, her index finger jutting in his face.

  “Stay the fuck away from me. I never want to see you again. You lying two-timing motherfucker. I believed you when you said you loved me. I fucking trusted you with everything. I fucking gave up the chance to get clean because I couldn’t stop thinking about being with you,” Lyric cried, her entire body wracked with sobs. Rebel shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You never loved me, Rebel. Just like everybody else in my life, all you did was use me until I had nothing left to give,” Lyric said, raising her hands, tears spilling over her lips. “And when you didn’t need me anymore, you moved on, just like my mother, my sisters, everybody that I ever loved.”

  Lyric turned swiftly to leave. She knew that if she stayed another second she would kill Rebel and Kim and maybe even herself, the way she was feeling.

  “Wait, Lyric,” Rebel yelled as he hopped awkwardly into his pants. “I do love you. Just let me explain,” he pleaded.

  “You better not leave me like this, Rebel. If you take another step, I will put that bitch in jail,” Kim threatened.

  Rebel paused, visibly torn between the two women. His hesitation only confirmed what Lyric knew in her heart to be true. The man that she once loved was gone. Forever.

  “Don’t worry, Rebel. You don’t have to choose. I’m out of here. Have a nice fucking life.”

  “Wait!” he yelled as she swiftly exited the room. Lyric did not respond to Rebel yelling her name. He was dead to her. She raced outside and down the front steps, tears streaming down her cheeks. Life was full of pain and unbelievable heartache. She needed a release, an escape from reality. She needed a hit badly.

  Chapter 6

  Harmony

  The sun was peeking over the horizon when Harmony unlocked her front door and stepped inside her home. She inhaled deeply and sighed with relief. Home sweet home.

  The house was calm and silent. Sonia, the overnight sitter, and Aubrey were still asleep. Although Harmony was longing to hold her sweet baby girl against her chest and feel her little breaths on her neck, she decided to take the silent time to clear her mind and try to recover from the terrible night she’d had.

  Harmony needed more than a few minutes to unwind. She still couldn’t shake the fact that someone had poisoned Ava. She had been wracking her brain since she’d gotten the news. She hadn’t lied to the detectives when she said Ava was evil, but she had no idea who would actually have the time or opportunity to go through with killing her. And, most importantly, why? Through all of the questioning, Harmony couldn’t stop thinking about something Melody had said a few weeks back while they sat together with Murray in Ava’s living room making funeral arrangements . . .

  * * *

  “If either one of you think that Lyric, the wild child, is coming here after what she did to Ava, think again,” Melody had said. Harmony tilted her head quizzically.

  “You don’t know about the assault and the attempted murder?” Melody asked with her eyebrows arched. Murray began coughing uncontrollably. Harmony looked at Murray and back to Melody.

  “Oh, yes. Your baby sister is completely off her little rocker. I won’t even get into the half-shaved head and purple-dyed hair. She looks like a Goth freak with those piercings in the face, neck, and who knows where else. And don’t forget the totally insane behavior. I had to send the police over here more than once when she was living here with Ava. Now, you and I may have told Ava on countless occasions that we wished her dead, but your baby sister? Miss Wild and Crazy actually tried to kill her. It wasn’t a simple fight, either; it was attempted murder.”

  * * *

  Harmony shook her shoulders to rid her mind of the incriminating facts about Lyric, although Lyric was the most likely suspect at the moment. It’s not like Lyric wouldn’t have been justified in killing Ava. Harmony shuddered just thinking about it.

  “She gave my life to him. She just gave him my entire life, and I was a baby,” Lyric had bawled. “I sacrificed everything, my entire soul, so that we all could be famous—and look at me. I have nothing. I have nothing left. All of you left me.” Lyric struggled to get out of Harmony’s grasp.

  * * *

  “He took my innocence. Over and over again she sent me to him, and when I was all used up, that was it. No more deals. No more fame. No more money. Everyone just left me.” Lyric’s words were like daggers.

  “Your mother . . . your fucking mother made me drink Blackberry Brandy to try to give me a homemade abortion! I didn’t even know I was pregnant! She said it would work, and that I wouldn’t feel the pain! Do you remember that, Harmony? Huh? When I was deathly ill from being pregnant by the man she sold me to so that we could be famous! Huh? Does anybody remember that I was seventeen and pregnant by a disgusting troll that was fucking old enough to be my grandfather? Huh? Does anybody remember how I bled and screamed in pain, and she didn’t even want to take me to the fucking hospital, and then lied and made me look like some off-the-hook teenage whore! Do you and Melody remember all of the nights your mother, her mother, grabbed me out of my bed and sent me to him so you bitches could have record deals and fame and so your mother could live out her sick fantasy of being famous? Huh? Do you remember?” Lyric had screamed through her tears while her chest heaved.

  “I don’t even have shit to show for all of it. Used up. Broke. Damn near homeless. Nothing left. And now she’s gone so I can’t even tell her how fucked up she was and how I’ve never been the same since I was th
irteen years old.” Lyric punched the metal wall of the bathroom stall.

  * * *

  Harmony jumped now just like she had those days she’d relived Lyric’s past pain. Lyric had left before Harmony made it out of the precinct. Harmony had left Lyric a voice mail, but hadn’t heard from her since they’d been separated for questioning.

  Harmony kicked off her shoes and massaged the sides of her neck to relieve some of the tension. Memories, the murder, her rocky marriage, all had her head swimming with thoughts. She headed for the kitchen. A nice hot cup of her favorite chamomile tea was what she needed. She didn’t bother to switch on any lights. She knew her way around her modest three-bedroom home well enough to navigate in the dark. Besides, the predawn glow and twinkle of light from the appliances was enough and oddly welcoming. Harmony padded over to the cabinets, humming a tune. Music always helped to calm her nerves. She shrugged. At least Ava had given her something—a love for music.

  She was glad to be home after spending three weeks in a Brooklyn hotel after Ava died, sorting through all of her mother’s personal possessions and also completing all of the legal paperwork associated with Ava’s estate. Not to mention, all of the effort she’d put into trying to save Lyric from herself. Harmony shook her head just thinking about how her marriage had suffered the most through it all.

  She reached up into the cabinet and pulled down her favorite cup—a pretty pink and brown mug that read, Ballerinas Have More Fun. She smiled. The mug had been a gift from one of her first dance students in her performing arts school, Dance and More. The school had been Harmony’s most inspired idea to date. She had been a singer and dancer all of her life, and Ron had been a child actor. Both had much success in their careers—Harmony had won several Grammy Awards with Sista Love, and Ron had two Emmy Awards for starring in eight seasons of the hit television sitcom, Our Family, Your Family.

  “That’s a great idea, babe. People will flock to our performing arts school because of our names alone,” Ron had said when Harmony first proposed the idea.

  Harmony smiled wider now, just like she did every time she used the mug and thought about those days; the happier times in her life. She and Ron were a dynamic duo back then. He had been clean and sober and highly motivated after coming out of drug rehab for what Harmony thought would be the last time. She had been awarded over $2 million after winning her lawsuit for back royalties, stolen wages, and song writing/publishing credits against the record label, Ava, Murray, and Melody. Suing her own family had been difficult for Harmony, but in the end, justice had prevailed. Harmony took her windfall, bought the quaint little house that she currently lived in, and opened the school. The rest of the money, she put away in a rainy day fund. She was a self-made woman, independent and in charge of her own destiny.

  * * *

  Harmony had jumped into Ron’s arms and kissed him passionately as he spun her around their new studio.

  “To forever,” Ron pledged, breathless with excitement.

  “To forever,” Harmony agreed, eyes sparkling with joy.

  * * *

  Harmony felt her throat tighten at the memory. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her back. It was time to accept that things had changed. She went to set her mug on the Keurig coffee machine platform.

  “Care to share?”

  Startled, Harmony jumped so hard she nearly lost her balance. The ceramic mug slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor, shattering.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. “You scared the shit out of me, Ron.”

  Harmony’s hands shook, and her knees knocked together. She hadn’t seen Ron sitting in the dark at the dinette table, just a few feet away. Even now, his shadowy silhouette reminded her of a scene from a scary movie where the villain appeared half-cloaked in darkness. Her heart pumped wildly.

  What is he doing here? I told Sonia not to let anyone in.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ron stood. Small slivers of light began coming through the blinds as the sun came up. Harmony noticed the nervous grin on Ron’s face as he started walking toward her.

  She inched backward. “What are you doing here, Ron?” she asked on unsteady legs. “You should’ve called or something. Arranged to talk to me, not just show up here unannounced. I don’t like it.”

  “I live here, Harmony,” Ron answered, his grin fading. He stepped over the shards of the broken mug, moving closer. “I know we are going through stuff right now, but I still live here,” he said evenly. He bent down and began picking up the jagged pieces of pink and brown glazed ceramic.

  Harmony’s back bumped against the far wall of the kitchen. With trembling hands, she flicked on the light, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to see Ron’s every move. She stared down at him cleaning up the mess on the floor. For a split second, her fear subsided and she saw flashes of the old Ron—her loving husband, the man who had been so thoughtful and attentive, the man that always made her feel safe and wanted.

  Ron swept the remains of her favorite cup into the trash bin and walked back toward her. He brushed his hands off on his jeans nervously and turned his attention to Harmony.

  “I miss you, Harm,” Ron said. “I fucked up, but I miss you and Aubrey like crazy.”

  Harmony blinked a few times and the good image of him faded like a puff of smoke. She stared at him. His skin was sallow and ashen; his face full of unruly overgrown hair, long and unkempt. Ron’s eyes were jaundiced, and she wondered if his liver was failing. He had lost a significant amount of weight, which showed in his scrawny neck and sunken eye sockets. He still wore the clothes she’d left him wearing three weeks ago at the hotel. Only now the once clean T-shirt was wrinkled and stained, and his jeans were rumpled like he’d taken them straight out of the clothes hamper and put them on.

  Harmony swallowed hard, her heart breaking. When Ron wasn’t a slave to drugs, he took great pride in his personal appearance. It was one of the things she loved about him. He’d always made sure that before he stepped out of the house he was dressed neatly and crisply. And he had always kept a sharply lined up haircut. Ron was a pretty boy that could put his woman to shame with his style and grooming. But not anymore. He had been reduced almost back to the way Harmony had found him—homeless and hopeless.

  She stared wide-eyed at this man who now bore little resemblance to her once sweet, sensitive, caring husband. She shook her head at a loss for words.

  “I’m sorry for everything,” Ron said, lowering his head and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Harmony averted her eyes to the floor. She had seen enough.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she croaked, finally looking back up and finding the words. Her heart felt like it would crumble to dust. She wanted so badly to just rush to him, throw her arms around his neck, and tell him she loved him with her entire being. She wanted to whisk him away to rehab again and make those addiction demons vanish from his life forever. She wanted to feel him touch her intimately one more time, and she wanted to touch him. She wanted to do all of those things, but in that moment of powerlessness, she did nothing. Loving Ron hadn’t worked to save him before, and Harmony knew it wouldn’t work now. She swallowed hard, set her jaw, and silently decided that letting Ron hit rock bottom again was the only thing that might work. But, she wasn’t too hopeful about that either.

  “I . . . I . . . know what you’re thinking,” Ron stuttered. “But I’m going to beat it.” He moved toward her, but Harmony put her hands up in a halting motion.

  “Don’t,” she said firmly. A pain exploded in her chest. She hated treating him like this. But she had to stay strong. She needed to keep the lines clear.

  Ron stopped short. His facial expression pained.

  “A lot of has happened, Ron. I refuse to go back to the pain of the past,” Harmony asserted, remembering his previous relapses. The uncertainty, the embarrassment, the shame of those times all whirled around her now.

  * * *

  “That’ll be one sixty-
two, seventy-six,” the cashier had said, smiling at Harmony warmly as she transferred the grocery bags into her shopping cart. Harmony smiled back as she extended her debit card. She had been feeling good lately, living like a grown-up. Food shopping may have seemed like a small thing to others, but to Harmony, it was one of those simple things that signaled her independence from her mother.

  “Um . . . I’m sorry, ma’am . . . your card has been declined,” the cashier whispered furtively, making sure none of the other customers could hear.

  Harmony’s eyebrows furrowed.

  “Declined? Impossible. It’s a debit card,” Harmony replied, her voice taking on a slightly higher pitch. The cashier’s face turned a bright shade of red.

  “Try it again,” Harmony demanded, agitation lacing her words. The cashier did as she was told. Hushed murmurs rose and fell behind her.

  The cashier’s mouth dipped at the corners with pity. “I’m sorry. Still declined.”

  “Trust me, that card is linked directly to my bank account, and I have plenty of money in there,” Harmony said defensively. “Try it again,” she commanded, drawing the attention of more customers.

  The cashier looked down the line at the faces of several angry customers.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve tried five times already. I really need to take care of them,” the cashier said, jerking her chin toward the people who stood behind her. Harmony turned around and saw the judgmental looks being sent her way. Her neck and face felt like they were on fire.

  “Just put my things aside. I’m going to straighten this out with the bank. I’m calling them right now. I have plenty of money,” Harmony announced, loud enough for the crowd of shoppers to overhear. She stormed out of the store and quickly called her bank. Perhaps a fraud alert had been placed on her account. Either way, she had to straighten this out quickly.

  “The joint account holder, Ronald Bridges, withdrew all funds yesterday. With no funds in the account, we closed it,” the customer service representative explained.

  “What?” Harmony’s body went cold. “That can’t be right.” She collapsed to her knees on the sidewalk because she knew exactly what that meant.