by N'Tyse
“I’m sorry,” I said, approaching with caution. “I just didn’t expect to see you…”
“Why not? I mean, it’s not like we talk anymore. You don’t take my calls. You ignore my texts. Your assistant won’t put me through to your new extension at work. What’s a guy to do?”
“I don’t know, Parish, but I don’t think this was your best idea. What’s going on with you?”
“Are we going to stand out here on the porch and talk, or are you going to invite me in? I mean, I’m not allowed over the threshold anymore, Mimi?”
“Parish, why are you doing this?”
“Doing what,” he asked, leaning against the porch rail. “Trying to spend time with what used to be my best friend, who all of a sudden doesn’t know me? What exactly am I doing?”
“Trespassing, for one,” Keith said. I didn’t see him drive up, and by the way we both jumped at the sound of his voice, I don’t think Parish did, either.
“Yo, my man, this is between me and Mimi. This ain’t got nothing to do with you.”
Parish was now standing and I had made my way over to a very pissed-off Keith.
“Hey, baby,” I said, kissing him full on the mouth. “Parish was just leaving.”
“No I wasn’t,” Parish said.
“Yes you were,” Keith said, approaching the porch aggressively.
“Listen,” I said, with my hand on Keith’s heaving chest. “Parish is leaving, and we are going to enjoy our evening as planned.”
“That’s how it is, Mimi?”
“Yes, Parish. Now, I need for you to go home and let this go.”
Parish just shook his head and laughed. He walked off the porch and continued laughing until he got behind the wheel of his car. Keith guided me inside, but he wouldn’t close the door until he saw Parish drive off.
“What was he doing here, Mimi?”
“I have no idea. He was sitting on the porch when I got home. You pulled in right after me.”
“Well, what did he want?”
“I’m not sure. Why are you giving me the third degree? You can’t think I told him to come over here.”
“I don’t know what to think. All I know is I don’t want to see him here again.”
“Keith, I didn’t want to see him here this time, but obviously I don’t have any control over that.” I stormed off into the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. Parish must have lost his mind showing up at my house like that, and Keith must have lost his right along with him for even suggesting I had cosigned that shit. I was still pacing when Keith entered.
“Mimi, I’m sorry.” He walked over and grabbed me by the arms. “I don’t know why seeing him here got me so upset. I know ain’t nothing going on with the two of you. But just the thought of someone coming at you like that makes me see red. Baby, I love you and I’m genuinely sorry. You forgive me?”
He was bent at the knees, moving from side to side, trying to make eye contact with me. When I wouldn’t look him in the eyes, he threw me back on the bed and pinned my hands over my head.
“Keith, get off of me.”
“Not ’til you tell me you love me.” He smiled and I melted.
“You aiight,” I said, as we burst out laughing. I shook my head. “You make me sick.”
“I know I do, but you love it.”
His lips came down on mine with such force that my panties were immediately drenched and my girl was thumping uncontrollably. We dry humped for a few minutes until the urge built to overflowing. We ripped at each other’s clothes and clawed at each other’s flesh, threatening bodily gratification that seemed too long overdue. He filled me up and rocked my body effortlessly. I was so wet. The sensation flowing through my walls made me moan and profess my love for him over and over again. He pumped into my middle, telling me how much he loved me, too. I was underneath him receiving all his good loving when I heard a loud pop. Keith collapsed on top of me. I thought it was a joke until I saw the blood.
“Oh my Gooooodddddd! Someone please call nine-one-one!” I screamed out. “Oh no, Keith, are you okay? Keith!”
No response. I wiggled from underneath him and called the police. The operator told me they were already en route since another call had come in a few moments earlier. I was still cradling his lifeless body in my arms when they broke down my front door and my bedroom became flooded with police, firemen and paramedics. Once they convinced me to put some clothes on, a detective began asking me questions, but I couldn’t hear him. My focus was on the tubes and machines they were plugging up to Keith and the faint beep of the handheld monitor the EMT kept checking. When they lifted him onto the stretcher, I stood up as well. If this detective wanted answers, he’d have to follow me to the hospital because there was no way in hell I was leaving Keith’s side.
FATAL ATTRACTION
It was like the doctor wasn’t speaking English to me. She said something about unresponsive, a punctured lung, excessive blood loss and a few other clinical terms I naturally blocked out. I didn’t want to hear all that gibberish. I just wanted the cold hard facts.
“Bottom line, is my man going to be okay?” I blurted out in the midst of her dissertation. “All I need is a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ ”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson…” I guess it’s right what they say. In times of crisis, some of the craziest things run through your head, because all I could hear once she said that was Andre 3000 screeching out the chorus… I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson, I am for real…
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head for clarity. “Can you please repeat that?”
“I said Mr. Myers’ prognosis is sketchy at best. We were able to remove the bullet from his lung and extract the excess fluid surrounding it, but right now. it’s touch-and-go until we can take him off the oxygen and see if he’ll be able to breathe on his own.”
“Well, how long will it be before he comes off of oxygen?”
“We will know more in the morning once all the swelling goes down and we get him stabilized. He has been sedated for the night and will be in ICU for at least the next twenty-four hours. You’re welcome to stay with him, but he will not be responsive.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, for lack of anything else to say.
“Is there anyone you need us to call for you? Has his family been notified?”
“Yes. I spoke with his family already.”
“Okay, I’ll be here until midnight. If you need me, just have them page Dr. Greene.”
“I will.”
“And stay optimistic. This can go either way, but if he’s a fighter, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
She walked away and I collapsed against the wall. I knew Keith was unconscious and wouldn’t know if I fell apart or held it together, but I didn’t want to bring any somberness or negativity into the ICU. I wanted to enter those doors confident and in high spirits so he would continue to fight hard to get back to me. I spoke with his mother earlier and assured her if there were a need for her to fly in from California, I’d let her know. I downplayed the seriousness of his condition because I didn’t want to break her heart. I also didn’t want her to blame me for his predicament, no matter how true that sentiment was. All kinds of thoughts rushed through my head as I cried my eyes out for the man I loved. I finally pulled it together and made my way down the corridor toward his room, which was still surrounded by police. Before I made it halfway, the “bong-bong” sounded and almost gave me a heart attack. In all the confusion, I forgot to silence my phone. I hurriedly pulled it out of my bag and read the screen. The message chilled me to the bone.
“You’re next.”
I started shaking uncontrollably and the same detective that was asking me questions earlier was the same one who had caught me right before I’d hit the ground. When I finally came to, they had me lying on the bed next to Keith. An oxygen mask was covering my face. I pulled it off and tried to sit up. The detective was on me immediately.
“Take it easy, Ms. Jackson. We don’t need you gettin
g excited and passing out again.”
“No, no, I’m okay. I’m okay. Where’s my phone?” I was frantic. He was trying unsuccessfully to subdue me.
“Ms. Jackson, please.”
“My phone, I need my phone. You don’t understand.”
“Here you go, Ms.,” a second detective said as she handed me my mobile.
I snatched it from her hands and pulled the text back up on the screen. “See. This is proof.” I handed the first detective the phone.
“Who is P-Lover?” he asked.
I looked at him like he had two heads. “It’s him. Parish. Parish Petersen. The man who shot Keith.”
“When did the text come through?” he continued, jotting notes down in a small black pad.
“Right as I was walking toward you.”
“Is the address you gave us for Parish a valid one?” the second detective asked. “We had a car go by there earlier and the place seemed to be abandoned.”
“Yes, it’s valid. Well, it was valid. I haven’t been in contact with him for a few months now, so I don’t know what’s been happening with him. Did you try to contact his fiancée?”
The first detective flipped through his notebook, then shot me a puzzling look. “We don’t have any knowledge of a fiancée. Do you have a name for this woman?”
“Yes, it’s Taylor.”
“Wait a minute,” the second detective chimed in once again, flipping through a notebook of her own. “Taylor,” she repeated, flipping through the pages. She smiled when she found what she was looking for. “Is it Taylor Channing, by chance?”
I nodded. “Yes. Taylor Channing. That’s right. Why, did something happen to Tay?”
She looked at her partner, showed him her notes and he shook his head. He placed his hand on my arm and sat down on the edge of the bed beside me.
“Taylor Channing has been classified a missing person. No one has seen her in close to three weeks. About the same time you lost contact with Mr. Petersen.”
“Oh no, not Taylor.” Rivulets of tears streamed down my cheeks. The female detective passed me a box of Kleenex and began in on me again.
“Is there anything you can tell us about Taylor or Parish that you may not have mentioned to us before? Anything at all? It can be the most insignificant thing; just tell us anything. Where do they vacation? Eat…work…hang out…”
“Well, Taylor comes from a very affluent family,” I began. “They sort of disowned her when she met, fell in love and moved in with Parish. She mentioned he had a record of some kind, but never elaborated on what that record consisted of. She used to have a place on the lower East Side I don’t believe she gave up. She was subleasing it last I heard.”
“Do you have the address to this place?” the first detective asked.
“No, but it’s listed on sublet.com. If you enter Taylor’s name, it will bring up the address and also show a video tour of the place.”
“Thank you, Ms. Jackson. Detective Bennett and I will look into this and we will be right back.”
“Burns, you go on ahead. I’ll catch up. I just want to talk to Ms. Jackson a little longer.”
“As you wish,” she said, rushing out to check on the info I’d just given her.
“Ms. Jackson…”
“Mimi.”
“Mimi. I know this is not the right time to be questioning you, with the man you love lying unconscious just a few feet away, but there’s something that’s not sitting right with me.”
“And what is that, Detective…Bennett, right?”
He nodded and then continued. “Where is your allegiance? With Taylor or with Parish?”
“I’m not following you, Detective, because my allegiance is with Keith Myers. Period.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. How do you know so much about Taylor when it appears that Parish is—or rather was—your friend?”
“Actually, Taylor was my friend. We met at work a few years ago. I was even with her the night she and Parish first met. I was the one who began noticing the change in her. Wanting to be with him and only him. Letting herself and her responsibilities go just to satisfy him and his needs. She left the job a little while after meeting him. She moved out of her place, into his and then started working for a company he recommended to her. I thought she was bugging by switching up her whole lifestyle for him. But it was none of my business. Besides, he seemed cool enough, and he and I started hanging on the regular as well.”
“Hanging,” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“At first it was just hanging. After a while, it became a little more than that. He was the one who actually drove a wedge between Taylor and I. We weren’t as close as we used to be, and she just became another fool in love—another victim in my eyes.”
“I see,” he said, scribbling nonstop in his notebook. “And this Parish Petersen . . . describe him to me again.”
“I can do you one better,” I replied, scrolling through my phone. “This is Parish,” I said, holding the phone screen toward him so he could see the picture of the two of us taken on the night of my first threesome. Parish looked so handsome in the picture. Who knew his ass would turn into a real-life fatal attraction?
The detective did a double-take when he saw the picture. “Um, can I borrow this for a moment?” he asked, pulling my phone out of my hand before I could respond. He placed the notebook into his pocket and began to walk off. “I-I’ll be right back,” he stammered.
I watched him leave, then my eyes narrowed in on Keith lying there immobile. He looked so handsome and peaceful. I walked over to him, placing kisses all over his face.
“Baby, the doctor told me that you are going to be all right, and I know you are. You have to be. I don’t know what kind of hold you have on me, but I love you so much.” Tears were now streaming down my face. “You’ve taught me how to trust again…how to love again. You’ve taught me what it feels like to have someone worthwhile in my corner. I will never regret giving you the opportunity to prove yourself to me. My only regret will be if you don’t allow me the same opportunity to prove myself to you. You’re my heart and I love you, baby.” I was overwhelmed with emotion and crumpled onto the bed, crying into his stiff chest. “Please don’t leave me, baby.”
Sedated or not, I listened to the steady beat of Keith’s heart. I climbed into bed with him and snuggled up to him as if he were awake and we were just passing time like we normally did. I knew the nurses were going to make me get up as soon as they entered the room, but I was going to enjoy our closeness for as long as I could.
A MILLION THOUGHTS
I thought I was imagining things when I felt something nudge me in my side, awakening me from a very deep slumber. But the sound of his voice was unmistakable.
“Mimi, wake your ass up.”
I jumped up in a panic. Keith was still lifeless beside me. The room was empty except the three of us—me, Keith and Parish. Parish stood next to Keith’s bed in black slacks, black T-shirt, leather jacket and a detective’s badge hanging around his neck. The gun was not imaginary. Parish had it pointed at my head the entire time.
“Get out the bed,” he ordered, gesturing with the gun.
I did as I was told and backed slowly against the wall. “What do you want, Parish?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, moving toward me. “Didn’t you get my text?”
A chill ran down my spine, but I wasn’t about to let him see me sweat. “No, I didn’t.”
The gun smashing against my left cheek left me seeing stars and spitting out blood. I crumpled to the floor holding my face.
“Don’t fucking play with me, Mimi. You got the text, but chose to ignore it. Just like with all the other ones I sent. I heard when Bennett called it in. Montoya is on the way to Taylor’s place on Houston and they’ll all be running in circles for the next few hours trying to track me down. Leaving us all alone to do whatever it is we want to do.”
“And what is it that we want to do, Parish?” I a
sked, trying unsuccessfully to mask my fear. “How did you get past security?”
“Security?” He laughed. “I am security. Hell, I’m your worst fucking nightmare, Mimi. I’m a nigger with a badge.”
It was so funny when Eddie Murphy said those same words in 48 Hours, but with my man in a drug-induced coma to my right, and me in a bloody heap on the floor, somehow I didn’t find any humor in it at that moment. Parish had me questioning everything, because for the first time I realized I didn’t know a damn thing about him. A million thoughts were going through my mind. What the fuck was he doing with a detective’s badge anyway? I thought he’d been unemployed for the last year or so.
“I see those wheels spinning, Mimi. Don’t overthink it. That was your girl Taylor’s problem. She was always butting her nose in where it didn’t belong. Getting involved in shit she didn’t need to be involved in. The one time I needed the bitch to be involved, she flaked out. But that’s neither here nor there. Right now, there’s only one woman I’m worried about and that’s you, Mimi.”
He walked over and yanked me up by the hair. I felt tracks unbind from my scalp. I jumped to my feet to avoid further damage. Parish began mumbling inaudibly under his breath. Although I couldn’t understand what he was saying, there was no mistaking what he was doing. Bent over the bed across from Keith with my jeans and panties around my ankles, Parish entered me raw. The gun was against my temple and his other hand was around my neck. He was thrusting inside me so deep that it felt like he was in my stomach. I knew I was being raped and I shouldn’t have been aroused, but I was. Parish was kissing on the back of my neck and manhandling me in a way that was turning me the fuck on. I forgot about the gun. I forgot I hated him. I forgot my man was in a hospital bed right beside us. I forgot Parish wasn’t wearing a condom; I forgot about the danger I was in and got lost in the act. I started throwing it back and moaning softly.
“That’s right, baby. You know you love this dick.”
Parish moved his hand from around my throat and slid it between my legs, fingering between my thighs, bringing my clit to life. His pelvis was moving double-time and I was imagining how tight his ass must look as he pushed into me with all his might. I spread my legs wider and shifted my hips higher. Parish was hitting my spot and I felt my inner walls tensing. He felt it, too.