My Man's Best Friend II

by Tresser Henderson

  “So you saying you never slept with her.”

  Silence was his answer.

  “Like I thought. If penetration was a factor, then so was you corrupting whatever alliance we had.”

  Jaquon shifted with uneasiness, looking around at the individuals who started to stare at our squabble. I knew my stance had bristled to the point of cage-match status. I had to try to calm down but I was furious. It was at this point I didn’t give a damn about these people standing and gawking. Just thinking about Zacariah and Jaquon together sent me into a rage. One fist was balled so tight, my nails embedded themselves into the palm of my hand. Jaquon looked at my demeanor before speaking.

  “Derrick, we have been boys forever and—”

  “Exactly! That’s why you never should have taken it upon yourself to sever that.”

  “You didn’t have a problem returning the favor when you slept with Kea,” he snapped. The look on his face told me he wasn’t prepared for those words leaving his mouth, but just like Jaquon he did things without thinking about the consequence. And right now I wanted his consequence to be a beat down.

  “Derrick, I don’t want to argue with you. Nor do I want to fight you,” he said, looking at my fist.

  “Then we can end this conversation and continue with our day,” I said, trying to walk past him. Jaquon grabbed me by my arm, stopping me. I didn’t jerk away. I just turned to look at his hand on me. I then looked at him like he had lost his mind.

  Jaquon let me go.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the department store employees acting like he was putting some merchandise on the shelves, all the while gaping at us. Then I noticed a little boy who looked to be about eight with blond curly hair with a video game in his hand. He ran to his dad with excitement, saying, “This is the one I wanted, Daddy,” holding a Mario game up.

  Everything around me was going on like things were great and here I was ready to punch my ex-best friend dead in his face for disrespecting me in more ways than one.

  I eyed the skinny, redheaded employee, causing his eyes to shift from me and back to the merchandise he was handling. I thought about asking him what the hell was he looking at but I knew I couldn’t take my frustrations out on him.

  I told Jaquon, “You are lucky we are in a public place.”

  “Derrick, I know my actions haven’t proven loyalty to you. I am willing to do whatever it takes to get back to where we used to be. Come on. Look at where we are standing. We always came here to purchase the latest games to play, man. We used to play until our eyes burned,” he said, punching at me playfully, but I didn’t want to buy into it. Jaquon paused to see if I was going to say anything but I looked at him to continue talking.

  “You and Kea are the two individuals I want back in my life.”

  Why in the hell did he go and say that?

  “Kea,” I blurted. “After all you did to her, you expect her to take you back.”

  Jaquon looked stunned at my reaction.

  “I know I have hurt her but—”

  “And now you realize the error of your ways. I tried to tell you that when you were sleeping around on her but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “Man, I know. And I’m trying to get her back. I know she’s a good girl.”

  “Get her back?”

  “Yes, I’m trying to get Kea back. Like for her birthday I sent her flowers and cooked her a nice dinner. She wasn’t happy at first but she came around. She let me eat dinner with her and we talked without arguing. She even let me stay the night.”

  “On the couch, no doubt,” I said arrogantly.

  “Yes, but I was still near her,” he said confidently.

  I had to wonder if this was his arrogance being rubbed in my face on purpose, showing me he could get her back if he tried. Talk about throwing salt in my wound. Now it was time for me to return the favor. “That’s funny. Kea never mentioned being with you when she was with me.”

  He frowned and asked, “When did you see Kea?”

  “I was with her last night. We had some um, things to talk about,” I said slyly.

  Jaquon grimaced even more at the way I said it but I didn’t care. I enjoyed seeing him squirm for a change. It didn’t feel good when somebody was messing with his girl, or should I say ex-girl.

  “She would be a fool to take you back,” I told him.

  “Maybe, but I’m not going to stop trying to get her back. I’m hoping you will give me a chance to get our friendship back on track, too. I will do anything to make us right again, man. You are my boy for life. What is it going to take? Just tell me.”

  Chapter 20

  Zacariah

  I was getting ticked off at the pudgy blond police officer sitting behind the desk, pretending to be working. Awhile ago she told me to, “Have a seat and someone will be with you shortly.” That “shortly” turned into a hell of a long time with thirty-seven minutes passing. I was sitting on this hard bench with my legs crossed, bouncing my foot angrily. Her fellow coworkers walked by, looking at me like I had two heads. Maybe it was my low-cut top revealing cleavage that caught their attention, with my five-inch stiletto heels. A couple of the officers walked by, smiling, never making eye contact with me but with my breasts. No one bothered to stop, yet they were peering down at my breasts like they wanted to nurse them. A “Hi, can I help you?” or “Would you like a donut?” would have been nice but I got none of that. I wished these puppies helped me get some assistance a lot quicker.

  I looked over at the three other people waiting with me. One woman was filing her nails, wearing a purple and orange dress. She looked busted. Her hair started to resemble a bird’s nest. Her weave should have come out weeks ago. Another was reading her Bible. She seemed like a grandma probably here to bail out her son or grandson. She was an attractive lady with grey hair to her shoulders and it was so pretty. If I ever got grey, I would want my hair to resemble hers. It had so much shine. As good as she looked, the worry in her face was obvious. I almost felt sorry for her. Then there was a man, sitting with his legs crossed better than mine. When I looked at him, he waved like he knew me. I looked around to see if anybody was beside me but this sugar-coated brother was waving at me.

  “I like those shoes, girlfriend,” he said, pointing at my onyx and grey stilettos with a chrome heel.

  “Thank you,” I responded.

  “Where did you get them from?” he asked.

  “To be honest I don’t remember. I bought them over a year ago.”

  “What size are they?” he asked.

  “It’s a nine.”

  “Too bad. I wear a thirteen.”

  I thought even if they were his size, he wasn’t going to get my shoes.

  “Honey, I was going to buy those babies from you right now. Those shoes are hot to death. They match this outfit I just bought to enter this contest.”

  “What contest?”

  “Child, I’m competing in Ms. Dragalicious honey and I’m going to bring it at the show,” he said, twirling his neck and pointing like he knew he was the sexiest diva walking. “I was willing to pay a nice grip for those beauties,” he said, looking at my shoes again.

  Curious, I asked, “How much grip you talking?”

  “At least three hundred. I know they are name brand just by the way you sitting here G’d up in this nasty police station. You look like a sista coming with nothing but the best, honey. You are a fashionista who is rocking it.”

  Three hundred dollars, I thought. I know I didn’t pay more than a hundred for these shoes, if that.

  I smiled at this compliment and said, “To be honest, I like my labels, but these babies aren’t name brand.”

  “Shut up,” he said with his mouth open. “That’s even better.”

  “Now don’t get it twisted, I like to look good wherever I go but I don’t have to rock names all the time either. If you got it like I do, you can make anything look good,” I told him and he snapped his fingers, laughing.

&n
bsp; “You go, girl. That’s how I get down too. I just wish I could find those shoes in my size,” he said.

  I wished these shoes were in his size too because I would have taken them off my feet and sold them to him, making a couple hundred off the deal. I always kept a spare pair of shoes in my car so I was good there.

  Getting tired of the small talk I decided to find out what was taking so long. Life was short enough without the po-po stealing more of my precious time. I got up off that hard bench, waiting for the feeling to return to my butt cheeks. I walked back up to the same female officer who told me to wait.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, looking at me like I was disturbing her.

  “Yes, I would appreciate if you would get someone out here to help me.”

  “Ma’am, please have a seat and someone will be with you shortly.”

  “Do you not remember my face from earlier?” I said, pointing at my well made-up face. “I heard this same rehearsed speech over fifty-five minutes ago. Just because I’m black don’t mean we all look alike,” I spat with frustration dripping from my words. My tone got the woman’s attention.

  “Ma’am, if you have a seat someone will be—”

  “I’m not sitting and waiting,” I said loudly, causing her brows to rise a bit. “I’ve been more than patient. Now my tolerance has run out. You call somebody on your little phone and get them out here now,” I demanded.

  She eyed me like she wanted to come around that desk, handcuff me, and throw my behind in jail for making her day worse than it already was. I hoped she wouldn’t try because, as mad as I was, I would get arrested for assaulting an officer.

  “I’m sorry for any inconvenience but as you can see, we are busy around here.”

  “And my time is valuable too. I’ve been sitting here long enough to see many of you, including yourself, take time out for some damn coffee and some casual conversation. I see you all found time for that. Now if you don’t get someone out here now I swear I will complain to the highest authority I can on how unprofessional you people are, including you Officer Reynolds,” I said, reading the name on her badge. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking and eating donuts. Do your damn job and get me somebody to talk to before I have your damn job!”

  A slight redness came upon her face. A dark-haired, exotic-looking man walked up, wearing black-rimmed glasses, asking her if everything was okay, like he was going to do something. Now somebody wants to find out what’s going on. I was pissed.

  “Everything is fine,” she said, squinting her eyes at me.

  “Everything is not fine. I’ve been here waiting for some help. I need to talk to somebody, preferably in the next minute, about my missing friend. I know a missing black woman may not be on your list of priorities, but I would appreciate some assistance, even if it’s only to make you all look like you are doing your jobs,” I said, tapping my freshly manicured nails on the desktop.

  “Go Ms. Thang. You tell them because I have been sitting here just as long waiting on some help but these bastards haven’t helped me either,” my gay shoe lover said.

  I continued to say to the man in the black-rimmed glasses, “And I know I’ve seen her”—I pointed to the woman behind the desk—“go get two donuts from over there in that box. And she wonders why her behind is spreading.”

  The dark-haired officer looked at me, Mr. Gay Shoe Lover, and then down at the lady behind the desk. “Ms. . . .” he asked, waiting for my name.

  “My name is Zacariah.”

  “Please step this way and I will see if I can help you,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him.

  “Can you help me next, Mr. Officer?” Gay Shoe Lover yelled.

  Once we were in his private office away from the chaos he told me to have a seat, before closing the door and taking a seat behind his desk covered in files. “How can I help you today?” he asked, shifting papers and closing some folders, making a clear space for him to write.

  “I would like to file a missing persons report,” I said, looking down to see his name was Detective Wallace.

  “And how long has this person been missing?”

  “About three weeks now.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Essence Clemmons.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “I was in the hospital. She was visiting with me after . . .” I blurted, stopping myself from revealing anything about that horrid night. The look he gave me was one of curiosity as to the reason why I was hospitalized, but I didn’t go into it.

  “I was in the hospital three weeks ago. She visited me that night but I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

  “And why have you waited so long?”

  “I wasn’t sure if she was with her boyfriend, or visiting her parents. Once I contacted them and found out neither of them had heard from her I came here.”

  “Can you give me her description?” he asked.

  “I can do better than that,” I said, reaching into my purse and then handing him a picture we took eight months ago when we took a trip to the beach. We both were smiling like we hit the lottery. And in a sense we did. The entire vacation was paid for by Derrick. Damn I missed that man something terrible.

  Detective Wallace looked at the photo and his expression changed from one of helping to one of distress. I could have sworn his eyes saddened a bit. His once upright shoulders slowly began to slump. He tried to hold his masculine demeanor together but I could tell something was wrong.

  “Does she have any distinguishing marks, like a birthmark or tattoo?” he asked.

  “Yes. She has a tattoo of half a heart on her right ankle that says ‘best.’ I have the other half,” I said, showing him my half-heart tattoo, which read FRIEND.

  “Will you excuse me for a minute?” he asked, getting up from his desk, and I nodded.

  Once the door shut behind him, I began to look around the space at the file cabinets probably filled with cases. I also viewed many plaques of accomplishments on the ivory-colored walls this officer had achieved. A large window was to the right, allowing bright sunshine to spill throughout the room. The signature family portrait sat on a small table behind his chair, with him, a woman I assumed was his wife, and seven children. I had to count a second time to make sure I counted correctly and I had. This man didn’t play around. If he solved cases like he took time to create so many kids, this case would be solved real soon. Little did I know how right I would be.

  Chapter 21

  Jaquon

  That “anything” I said I would do to get my friendship back with Derrick was the worst thing I could have said, since he came up with the one thing I didn’t want to do.

  “Anything,” Derrick said callously. Derrick’s tone was like ice running down my back when he said it. I knew whatever he wanted me to do in order to continue our friendship would be exactly the opposite of what I wanted to do.

  When he said, “I want you to stay away from Kea,” I thought I would fall out laughing. Stay away from Kea. We were boys but not even he could keep me away from getting the love of my life back.

  I pondered his suggestion just to make him think I was considering it, but then I told him, “I’m not going to be able to do that.”

  I didn’t know if his ultimatum was due to a brother-sister bond, or him wanting to continue a love affair that he knew could never happen. If he thought things between them could be like they were, he was sicker than I thought. Regardless, it didn’t matter because Kea was mine first. He would have to get back with Zacariah because he wasn’t getting Kea back. Knowing Zacariah, she had already concocted a plan to make that happen.

  “Well then I guess our friendship is a done deal,” Derrick said unsympathetically.

  “If that’s the way you want it,” I said, feeling my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and, lo and behold, it was the devil herself, Zacariah.

  Derrick looked at me and then at my cell. He said, “You can get that
.” He walked away and I answered the phone before it went to voice mail.

  “What do you want?” I blurted, not bothering to say hello.

  “Jaquon,” she called out with her voice cracking.

  “Zacariah, why are you calling me?” I tried to whisper, looking back to make sure Derrick wasn’t listening. He was at the checkout counter.

  “Please. Just let me get this out,” she said seriously.

  The fact that she said “please,” I knew something wasn’t right. “Okay, what is it?”

  “It’s Essence.”

  “You do know me and Essence are done. That’s what you wanted, right?” I asked.

  “Shut up, Jaquon, and let me—”

  “Don’t be telling me to shut up,” I retorted.

  “Jaquon, she’s dead,” Zacariah finally yelled.

  I paused, thinking I heard her wrong. “She’s what?”

  “Essence is dead,” Zacariah repeated as she cried hysterically into the phone.

  “Who told you this? How do you know?”

  “The police told me. I went to file a missing persons report because I hadn’t seen her since I got out the hospital.”

  “So she’s been gone that long and you just going to file a report?” I said, thinking back to the night I saw Essence with some guy at the bar.

  “I thought she might have gone to her parents’ house or, at least, was on her way there,” she explained.

  “Maybe the police got it wrong. How do you know it’s her?” I questioned, hoping what she was telling me was a mistake.

  “I took a photo of her with me to the station and showed it to the officer, and the next thing I know they were taking me to identify her body,” she said, crying. “Jaquon, it was her. It was Essence!”

  “Zacariah, you have done some cruel things in your life but this has to be the worst,” I said, thinking she was telling me a lie. This had to be another one of Zacariah’s sick and twisted ways of getting back at me.

  “I’m not lying. For once I wish this was a trick but I swear on my life I’m telling you the truth,” she pleaded. “If you don’t believe me, go to the station and ask them yourself.”