Kismet

by Raynesha Pittman

  “Mrs. James, we need to speak with you about an incident that occurred at your rental property in Tennessee involving an Andre Burns.”

  I jumped to my feet quickly. There was no way I was going to let Dre, Andre, or whatever the hell he went by, fuck me out of the deal with those clients. It had to have involved him. I was sure of it before they said the criminal’s government name.

  “It’s Ms. James, and, of course.”

  I excused myself from the meeting and left them in Stephanie’s hands. She was more than capable of handling the meeting. My concern was the future client thinking I had some criminal investigation pending.

  Everyone in the office was standing on the other side of the door when I walked out with the two detectives, including Mr. Williams. He was known to be nosy, but it never bothered me because it wasn’t my business he had his nose in—until then. He stopped the detectives and introduced himself as my direct superior. Without a bit of shame in his voice, he asked what was going on.

  Detective Soul Train reached to shake his hand in return, and then said, “There was a break-in at her home in Tennessee, and we need to get a statement from her. She is the victim, like I’m sure you had already assumed.”

  Looking hot under the collar, he responded. “Of course I assumed such. Let me know if we can be of any help to you, Ms. James.”

  I was so glad that was over. Now the entire building—all twenty floors—would look at me like a victim instead of the criminal I was. I hadn’t even been told what they wanted with me, but I knew I was guilty of whatever I was accused of. I led the way to my office and offered them both a seat.

  “Ms. James, we received a call from the Nashville Metropolitan Police Department requesting we search your condo looking for an Andre Burns or drug paraphernalia. Both Atlanta PD and Tennessee investigators have searched your homes from top to bottom as we were warranted to do and have uncovered nothing but a fourth of a cigar stuffed with marijuana. You can answer our questions now or at the police station in the presence of your lawyer.”

  Shaking my head no, I spilled my guts before he had gotten the first question out of his mouth. I started at the gas station and ended with changing my telephone number and address. The mute detective recorded my statement and the other took notes. “So, where is he now?”

  Did that motherfucker listen to anything I had just said? “I don’t know. He went his way, and I went mine.”

  He handed me his card.

  “We’ll be in touch, but I recommend you get in contact with the Nashville Police Department before they make an attempt to get in contact with you. These things can get bad without full cooperation.”

  “I will immediately. Thank you.”

  * * *

  I was still in shock when Stephanie came in. “What did they want with you? Are you okay? Who broke into your house?”

  I saw Mr. Williams wasted no time telling everyone what happened. I couldn’t think of anything to say back. I knew both of my homes had been destroyed. I had watched Cops enough to know what I would be facing when I made it home.

  I wanted to cry, but that’s a sign of weakness, and I devoted my adult life to advertising strength. Stale faced, I asked, “Can I stay with you for the weekend? I need to get away right now.”

  Without asking another question, she said, “Yes.” I told her we would be leaving then, and to go grab her purse.

  Since we would be together until Monday, I left my car, which had also been searched, in the parking garage at work and rode with her. On the ride to her house, I told her what happened as if she was the police.

  “Hell, naw, Savannah. We going to your condo, and I’ll have a cleaning crew meet us there.” Her nickname should have been Google because when we got there, her sister, Tracey, and the cleaning crew were already there working. I had a new front door, which meant the other must have been kicked in.

  “When we got here, they were putting it up. The guy said your key still works. They put the old locks on this door.” When Tracey finished, she pointed to the new door frame I had. My house was a thousand times worse than I imagined.

  The police had knocked over everything, even my refrigerator. They had cut every box of cake mix and bag of flour I had. My pictures were off the wall, clothes from my bedroom in the living room, and these motherfuckers had even searched my fish tank, because my Oscars were swimming around in a punch bowl. I had seen enough.

  Stephanie demanded that my house be finished tonight and she told Tracey to stay there for the weekend just in case they came back. She paid everyone and ordered them pizza. “You ready to go?”

  I felt like a zombie, but I followed her out of the house. Stephanie was calling the shots, and I was going to follow her lead.

  “Tomorrow, after breakfast, we’re heading to Tennessee so you can speak with the police; then we’re calling a moving company to get your shit and follow us back here. You can put your things in my storage until you’re ready to get them. I’m headed to the Liquor Bank, and I’m about to ease your mind.”

  She dug into her purse and held up what looked like two ounces of weed. “You thought I was going to leave him sitting at Houston’s waiting on you? I keep telling you I got your back.”

  Damn, she had met up with Marcus to pick up my weed. I had forgotten all about him with everything going on that day. I was able to get out a “Thank you,” but she talked right over it.

  “I’ll stop and get some cigars while we out. You’re in good hands. Relax.” After her many stops for food, liquor, cigars, and movies, we finally made it to her house. She had a nice two-bedroom house outside of Stone Mountain. The area wasn’t all that great, but whenever I missed home, it was my comforter.

  I hated to say it, but after the shit I went through that day, home was looking a lot better. Even though South Central was a rough place to live, niggas went down by themselves. They weren’t trying to take nobody with them. The no-snitch rule was one rule everybody went by, and there were consequences if you didn’t.

  “Come eat something before you get on this liquor.”

  I joined her in the kitchen, sat on her counter, and murdered my food. Stephanie knew where all the good, home-style food spots were, no matter what city and state we were in. She had ordered catfish and spaghetti from a little spot near her house, and man, it was good. As I looked up, I was rubbing my sliced bread across my plate, trying to get the last taste of spaghetti off it.

  I rolled up a blunt while she made the drinks, and then we smoked in the kitchen. Weed was really a cure-all for me because I started feeling like myself instantly. I got up and started rubbing on her booty while she hit the blunt.

  “I see you feeling better.”

  I laughed, and then put her on the counter and licked all over her neck. I thought she would stop me. Instead, she swallowed her glass of Henn and puffed on the blunt. Before she let out the smoke from her lungs, I put my mouth to hers and kissed her until the smoke entered my lungs. She placed the blunt in my mouth and took her pants off. I gripped her with my free hand until she stood on her tippy toes to get back on the counter.

  I continued to pet her cat as I drank my liquor while she held the glass to my lips. Handing her the blunt back, she inhaled as I slid my fingers deep into her while twisting and turning my hand.

  “Damn, you know I like that,” she moaned.

  So I went deeper, and eventually, those words got stuck in her throat and wrapped around a moan. “Who has been petting my cat?” I knew she hadn’t been sleeping with anybody because I kept her too busy, and she was in her last year of college. She didn’t have time to meet new people. I just wanted to hear her response.

  “You know I don’t have time to mess with nobody. I got a demanding boss.”

  As soon as those words shot out of her mouth, I went deeper, and she gushed all down my arm. I laid her back on the counter, making her hair rest in the sink. I licked every bit of her juices, and then ate her. She was shaking so badly that her kne
es clapped together like they were giving me a round of applause.

  I stepped away from her to where I was completely out of the kitchen and told her to roll up. After the next blunt and three more major gushes, I called it quits, made her shower, and she went straight to sleep.

  My nightmares were worse that night. That time, I was in jail for aiding and abetting Dre. I woke up in a cold sweat. Stephanie was already awake and getting things together for our trip to Nashville. I didn’t want her to know about the dreams, so I rolled up and smoked the memories of the dream away.

  Before hitting the interstate to face the three-hour drive to Nashville, we went to my condo. If I wouldn’t have seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have known it was ever kicked in. It was just the way I left it yesterday morning except for the new door. I gave Tracey my house key just in case she had to leave; then we hit the interstate.

  On the ride down to Nashville, I learned more about Stephanie than I had ever known. She had never been sexual with a man—not because she was a lesbian, but because she just never connected with a man long enough to sleep with him. She had dated many, but something had always prevented them from having sex. I told her, “It might just be meant for you to be with women or they weren’t worthy to pet that monkey in between your legs.” I laughed, and in the back of my mind, I was thinking the first man that gave her some dick would have her sprung.

  She also told me that she had dated a soft stud in Nashville for a while. They would make trips back and forth to see each other, but after a while, the sex got boring, and she called it quits with the manly woman.

  Stephanie told story after story, and I was glad she did because the ride to Nashville was the shortest I had ever experienced. The fact she drove 85 mph the entire time helped too. We made it downtown and parked. I asked her to stay by my side when she suggested waiting in the car for me.

  When we walked in, the officer behind the counter checked us out. “How can I help you two ladies?” He was a young white officer with some of the prettiest blue-green eyes I had ever seen. He was tall, about six foot three, and nicely built.

  “I need to speak with a detective about an incident that happened at my apartment in Bellevue.”

  He took down my name and address, and then walked toward the rear. When he came back he said, “You will be speaking with Detective Thomas. She’s finishing up with another case and will be with you shortly.” Shortly? I waited forty-five minutes before the detective called me back.

  “Hello, Ms. James. I’m glad you were able to come in so we could talk face-to-face. Let me find somewhere we can talk.” She shook and released my hand and escorted me down the blandest hallway I had ever seen. Maybe the dullness was supposed to put the person in question in an uneasy mood. That’s probably why she wouldn’t allow Stephanie to come back with me saying that we needed to speak in private. How private are you really, when you’re being videotaped with someone watching live on the other end?

  She recorded my story, asked a few questions, and then made me point out Dre in a picture lineup. There was a picture of Mike too, but I didn’t point him out. Looking at the other three pictures, I assumed they were involved in some kind of way as well.

  “That’s him, that’s Dre.”

  “Does Dre have any involvement in the sale or distribution of narcotics?”

  “I don’t know what he’s involved in. Like I said, what he could do to me in bed was my only concern. He was a two-day, one-night stand. I didn’t even know his full name until this.”

  Detective Thomas dismissed me, but I wanted to get confirmation that I wasn’t in any trouble. I didn’t want any more warranted searches or on the job pop-ups.

  “Am I in any trouble?”

  “No, Ms. James, you are not in any trouble, but if the suspect contacts you, please call me or the nonemergency police number.” I assured her I would, and then left.

  Chapter 6

  All Gray Skies

  We arrived at my Bellevue apartment, and shockingly, it was already cleaned. I was told my neighbors and maintenance men got together and cleaned it. Nothing was missing. In fact, they had left me flowers and a card expressing their sympathy for the way the police wrongly searched my apartment. Talk about kindhearted people. I hadn’t even met those people, and they showed me kindness. That was what I loved most about the South. It was like having one big family. In California, I would have been robbed blind.

  Everything was easy to pack up because it was neatly folded and organized. The women must have taken care of my clothing because my panties were folded and stacked in bunches by type, like thongs, G-strings, boy cut, etc. We packed up the apartment in less than two hours.

  Stephanie cancelled the movers and rented a small moving van instead. She was sure we could handle it on our own. Once the van was loaded, I turned the keys into the front desk.

  “Ms. James,” the Hispanic pool man, who had never spoken to me before, called out to stop me as I walked out of the office.

  I turned and addressed him. “Yes?”

  He reached in his top shirt pocket and handed me a note. “Some guy told me to give you this. He was in the pool house with me while the police were searching your place.”

  I took the note from him and thanked him. Dre had slipped right under the cops’ noses. He was better at hiding than I thought. I sat on the bench outside the office and read the letter:

  Hey, Baby,

  I’m sorry about your apartment. I’m watching them search through it now. I know you have a life somewhere else, but I want you to stay in touch with me. My full name is Andre Burns, and my birth date is 09/02/83. Just call the sheriff’s department, and they will give you my booking information. I’m turning myself in Sunday night after I put my son to bed. Please don’t be mad at me for all of this. I love you and fell in love with you after our first night together. There’s something about you. I’ve never experienced this feeling before, and I ain’t ready for it to stop yet.

  —Dre

  I don’t know what happened but, after reading his letter, I felt sick to my stomach and ran to the office bathroom to vomit. With my face in the toilet, I kept seeing the words I love you in Dre’s writing in my head. He didn’t love me. He just needed someone to write over the next few years.

  My mouth tasted like all the alcohol I had drunk the night before. I hate hangovers. Next, my head would be pounding. As a precaution, I took two Tylenol, extra strength, and then headed back outside to Stephanie.

  “Girl, what did he say?”

  I handed Stephanie the letter, scared that I would throw up again if I read it. “So, what are you going to do? He said it’s love.”

  After all this time, she still didn’t know me. I didn’t give a damn what he called it. I would never be a drug-dealer’s wife. Yes, I did feel something for him, but not love. Especially not in a week’s time.

  “I’m going to take this letter to Detective Thomas and be done with him and Tennessee.”

  We went to the police department. I did as I said I would, dropped my stuff off at the storage center, and then headed back to Stephanie’s house to have a repeat of the previous night.

  I got so drunk that I wasn’t surprised when I woke up throwing up, especially after I saw Stephanie facedown in her bathtub.

  “We can’t hang,” she said, trying to smile though it was visible she was sick to her stomach.

  We ate Tylenol for breakfast and Pepto-Bismol for lunch. We didn’t regain our appetite until around five o’clock when we decided to get something light, like a sandwich and soup, from the sub shop up the road.

  “With everything going on with you this weekend, I forgot to tell you the good news, Savannah.”

  I stopped building my sandwich with the sandwich artist and looked Stephanie in the eyes. “Don’t you fix your mouth to tell me we got the deal?”

  She smiled and nodded her head yes.

  We started screaming and jumping up and down. I even turned to the guy behind
me in line and gave him a high five.

  “They’re giving us full control over all accounting in their West Coast markets. He said he was very impressed, and I sent him to Mr. Williams for the final contracting.”

  The news she gave me made everything I went through worth it. I would be promoted, and there might even be talk of me making partner. Stephanie would get a pay increase until she completed school and passed her exams. Then I’d hire her on as an accountant for our larger client base, since she had proved to be able to handle the job.

  I was so excited about the news. When we got back to her place, I got my things ready for work, showered, and then hit the bed.

  “No celebration sex?”

  I didn’t feel like it that night. What I really wanted was some dick. Before Dre, I hadn’t had sex with a man for two months. My last sex partner was Amir, and that was a quickie because we were at the gym in the bathroom, trying not to get caught having sex in the one-person sauna. That might be why Dre’s dick was so good to me. He was the first in sixty days to give me some.

  “No, beautiful, not tonight. I don’t think I could get in the mood if I wanted to. I just thought about Dre.”

  She looked a little disappointed, got in the bed, and asked me to hold her.

  I held her through the night. Every time she rolled over, I adjusted myself in whatever position to keep her in my arms. That was the first night I didn’t have a nightmare. Hell, I didn’t have a dream at all.

  I woke up to the sound of Stephanie’s favorite morning show in the middle of the cohost reading a letter from an anonymous listener and giving them feedback on how they would personally handle the situation. I loved that morning show, but never had time to listen to it anymore. I wondered if the host’s nephew still made his prank calls.

  “Go shower. I made breakfast.” She kissed my lips and walked back out.

  After breakfast, we made our way to work. We were congratulated by our colleagues for closing the largest deal the company has ever had. Everything had been going good, and before I knew it, three weeks had flown by.