by Zuri Day
“It’s about time you got here!” The loud voice bounced down the hallway and hit Shayna in the face.
That’s Brittney’s dramatic behind. If not for the pain and the tightness of the bandages, Shayna would have laughed out loud.
“Uh-huh, heifah,” Talisha added. “You know your butt has some explaining—” They rounded the corner. Talisha stepped back, straight into Brittney, who’d been on her heels. Both women noticed the scratches on her face and the bruise mark on her neck. The color purple, and we’re not talking about the kind that Nettie and Celie enjoyed in the lilac field. “Shay! What happened?”
The two women stepped aside so that Shayna could get past them and into the living room. “Don’t tell me Michael did this,” Talisha said, her voice low and threatening.
“Do we need to call the police on his ass?” Brittney asked. She was already reaching for her phone.
“Wait, guys,” Shayna said, her raised hands a plea for silence. “I’ll tell you everything, but first let me get out of these clothes and get some water. I need to take a pill.”
Talisha’s eyes narrowed as she noted the careful way Shayna took off her heels before starting down the hall. “Do you need any help?”
Shayna realized that it would be useless to try and keep her roommates out of her bedroom or her business so she didn’t even try. “Come on in, y’all.” She unbuttoned the jacket and winced trying to remove it.
Brittney gasped, noting that a tightly bound bandage had replaced the top Shayna wore when she’d left the house yesterday.
“Wait, Shay, let me help you out of it,” Talisha said. “Put your arms down. Brittney, go get Shayna a glass of water.” The mother hen of the trio, she carefully slid the jacket down Shayna’s arm. Shayna unbuttoned her slacks while Talisha went into her closet for a loose-fitting pair of sweatpants and matching lightweight jacket that zipped up the front. Brittney returned with the glass of water. Two sets of intent eyes watched Shayna remove the painkillers from her purse, take one, and drink the entire glass of water.
“Sit,” Talisha demanded, pointing to the bed.
“Spill it,” Brittney added, as both she and Talisha sat on the bed as well.
Shayna took a deep breath. Suddenly she felt tired, drained, wanting nothing more than sleep to help her escape the reality of her last twenty-four hours. But these were her sister-girls, and the concerned looks on their faces prodded her on. “It was Jay.”
Brittney’s mouth fell open. “Jay did this? He beat you up?” Brittney knew the old Jay, the one who used to cook dinner when Brittney came over, then sit and watch comedies all night long. That Jay would never have done this.
Shayna nodded.
“What the hell?” Talisha shouted, with a frown that suggested she was about ready to take off her earrings and smear her face with Vaseline.
“How’d he find you?” Brittney asked.
Talisha didn’t wait for an answer before firing another question of her own. “Did he follow you to Michael’s place?”
“I don’t know,” Shayna responded, just realizing that Jarrell may very well have followed her to Michael’s place and now knew where her manager lived. This thought did not sit well with her and she made a mental note to call Michael before going to sleep. “Y’all know he’s been calling and texting me off the hook since Mom gave him my new number.” Shayna was so mad at her mother for doing so that she hadn’t called her yet. She needed more time before she could do so without cursing her out. “He called me at least a dozen times yesterday, texting, too. Finally, when I got to Michael’s house, I turned off the phone.
“The meeting lasted for hours, and no”—she fixed her roommates with a pointed look—“nothing happened. The meeting was totally professional, although I’d be lying if I said Michael didn’t look good enough to eat. The only meal I had, however, was a Thai dinner that his chef cooked.”
“Wow, he has a chef?” Brittney’s expression turned dreamy.
“Forget about the food.” Talisha fluffed up Shayna’s pillows, motioning for Brittney to help her place Shayna back up against them. “I want to know how you got from charismatic Michael to crazy Jay!”
Shayna slowly shook her head, trying to recall the feelings of happiness and hopefulness she’d had upon entering the novelty shop. “I’m still trying to figure that out myself. Among other things, Michael and I discussed how to develop my brand, maybe have a signature look or piece of clothing like Flo-Jo, with her nails and one-legged outfits, or Michael and his gold shoes. I was thinking about that when I turned on Sunset and saw this store. I stopped, hoping that maybe I’d see something in there and get inspired. That’s when I remembered that I’d turned off my phone. As soon as I turned it back on, I got a text message. It was from Jay.”
“What did that asshole say?”
Shayna closed her eyes and took a breath to calm the fear rising up from inside her. She swallowed and answered, “That he was tired of being ignored and that we were going to talk, one way or another.”
“Oh my God, Shay.” Brittney placed a reassuring hand on Shayna’s arm.
“I knew something was wrong when we were on the phone earlier.” Talisha stood and began pacing. “Why didn’t you tell me about the text? You know me and Cameron would have came and got you, followed you back home or whatever we needed to do.”
“Because I didn’t expect Jay to be hiding in the shadows waiting to attack me. That’s why!”
“I’m sorry for yelling at you, girl. I’m just so mad! I can’t believe he actually did this.” Talisha sat back down, lowered her voice “You must have been scared to death.”
“I was petrified. When Jay grabbed me, he disguised his voice so I thought it was a stranger trying to rob me or rape me or . . . I don’t know what. I couldn’t even think . . . just started fighting and yelling and trying to get away.”
“Weren’t there people around?” Brittney asked. “Somebody to call the police . . . or something!”
“There were, but these days, no one wants to get involved. Plus, it happened so fast. He grabbed my arm and I felt something pressed against my back. I don’t know what it was, a knife, a gun . . . hell, maybe even a flashlight or something else less deadly. But he said that if I yelled that he would, you know, really mess me up. All I could think about was him doing something to me physically that would end my career. I believed him and at first I had planned to do what he said.” Shayna became silent, inwardly reliving the terror of that moment.
“Then what happened?” Brittney asked, plopping down on the bed.
“Ow!”
“Oh, sorry!” Brittney placed her hand on top of the hand now clutching Shayna’s side. “So sorry, Shay.”
Shayna took deep breaths before replying, “That’s okay. I think the pill is starting to take effect now.”
Talisha crawled on the bed from the other side. “Shayna, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. It’s probably upsetting.”
“No, it’s okay, really. I’d rather get it over with tonight or you beatches will bug me forever!”
“You’re right!” Brittney said, checking her perfectly manicured nails before offering a side glance in Shayna’s direction.
“So . . .” Shayna sighed heavily before continuing. “We were by this door that led to the back of a business on Sunset, a private, totally hidden area between the store and the alley. The attacker, Jay, picked me up and tried to force me through that doorway. I had a feeling that if he got me back there, things might really get ugly. That’s when the adrenaline kicked in and I fought for my life, and that’s when my ribs got broken. Well, cracked technically, but I can’t imagine that broken would feel any worse than this!”
“So when you were fighting, that’s when you realized it was Jay?” Talisha asked.
“No, that wasn’t until I broke away and started to run. I looked back, just for a second, and our eyes met.” Shayna’s brows creased as she relived the scene. “Now that I think a
bout it, maybe that’s why he was holding me so tight, he didn’t want me to see who it was until he got me away from the public, in a more secluded spot. I should have just answered his stupid calls. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I know you’re not sitting there saying it’s your fault that your ribs are cracked. And I know you’re not going to let him get away with this!” So much for Talisha maintaining a calm demeanor. Hard to do when one’s blood boiled. She looked at Shayna through narrowed eyes. “Did you file a report with the police?”
Shayna shook her head. “Michael, umm, he said he’d take care of it.”
Brittney crossed her arms. “What does that mean, that he’ll take care of it? Michael isn’t law enforcement. You need to file a police report, Shayna! You need to have a record of what Jay did in case he tries again! Did you have time to get the names of any of the people around you, anyone who could corroborate your story?”
Shayna shook her head. “I didn’t wait around to take names, wasn’t even thinking about that. All I could think of was getting away. I tried to get to my car, but he was right behind me so I just started running. I had just come from Michael’s and I instinctively started running back in that direction. I was so scared, y’all. When I got to his house, I just collapsed. He was leaving and almost didn’t see me. I don’t know what would have happened if . . .” She put her head in her hands, and the tears that she’d kept at bay most of the day came pouring out.
“Shh, it’s okay, Shay,” Talisha cooed, going from kick-ass anger to calmed-down compassion in the blink of an eye. “We can talk about it later.”
“But wait, Tee. What about—”
“Let’s let her get some rest,” Talisha insisted, reaching for Brittney’s arm to lead her out of the room. She stopped at the door. “Are you hungry, Shayna?” Shayna shook her head, and lay down on the bed. “Well, there’s water on the table beside you. If you need anything, just let me know.”
Shayna listened as her roommates’ voices receded down the hallway. She smiled into the darkness, imagining their conversation and their suggestions on what should be done to her ex. Then she thought of Michael and his vow to “take care of it.” What did that mean? Yes, Jarrell had hurt her, but did she want him hurt in return? And what about her mother, who’d given him her new number in the first place? Talisha had suggested that Shayna get some rest, and put the incident behind her. But Shayna worried whether the worst was truly over. Or had it only begun?
10
Michael pulled up to his mother’s condominium complex and waved at the guard. She’d been here for three years, but every time he visited there was still a sense of pride. Michael and his two brothers had purchased the three-bedroom condo in a luxury high-rise near the ocean, and then talked their mother into leaving the home she’d shared with their dad and moving there. At one time, they thought she’d never consider leaving the Long Beach community she’d called home for three decades, that had seen various levels of gentrification over the years. “So many memories of Sam,” she’d always say. But the changing face and cultural climate of the neighborhood where the boys had grown up, combined with the panoramic ocean view that could be seen from their mother’s floor-to-ceiling windows on the twentieth floor, had sealed the deal.
“Hello there, Mr. Morgan,” the guard said, handing him the required guest pass sticker to be displayed on his dashboard. “Beautiful day today, huh?”
“It sure is,” Michael replied. He gave a final wave as he went past the raised arm, then looked in his rearview mirror just as his younger brother, Troy, steered his prized possession—a Maserati GranCabrio—into the complex. Michael shook his head even as he waved at his brother. Everyone had told Troy he was crazy for parking a luxury car in a crime-ridden neighborhood, but the youngest Morgan loved the Leimert Park community as well as his toys. “Who are the kids going to look up to if all of us leave?” he’d challenged his brothers. Neither Michael nor Gregory had had the answer to that question, so after that they’d left him alone.
Moments later, Michael noted the smell of something amazing and the sounds of something jazzy as he knocked on his mother’s door.
Gregory answered. “Hey, man.” He glanced over his shoulder and then continued in a lowered voice. “You all right?”
Michael nodded, stepping inside the room and giving his brother a shoulder bump greeting. “I’m good.”
“And your client?”
Michael’s brow furrowed. Aside from a text relaying her fears that Jarrell Powell might know where he lived and what type of car he drove, he’d not heard from Shayna, nor had he been able to reach her. “She’s okay, I guess.”
“Was Troy able to find out anything?”
“I don’t know. We’ve been playing phone tag since last night.” Michael walked over to the fireplace and nodded at the image in a large picture hanging above the mantel, as if in greeting, rubbing the frame with his fingers. He continued to stare at the picture of his father, the one the sons greeted at every visit. As strange as it may seem, he gathered strength every time he was near this work of art, sensed his father’s presence, heard his father’s voice answering the questions in his head. But before he could get to the most important query, the one about Shayna, his mother entered the room.
“Hello, son!” Jackie Morgan came around the corner with arms outstretched. A tall, slender woman with thick black hair and smooth brown skin, she was often mistaken for a much younger lady, sometimes a decade younger than her fifty-five years. Today, her shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, her face was devoid of makeup save for a hint of gloss on her lips, and the scent of vanilla and lilacs clung to her as loosely as did the ankle-length flowery dress that draped her frame. “You look worried, son,” she said after hugging Michael and then pulling back. “Everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom.” Dang! Pull it together, Michael. Of the three boys, Michael had always been the one who wore his emotions on his sleeve, or in today’s case, on his face. Yet he was determined to keep his worries to himself. At least for now. “Something smells good. What is that . . . roast beef?”
Jackie and Gregory exchanged glances before she followed her son into the dining room. “It’s rump roast, son,” she answered. “Gregory, why don’t you choose a nice bottle of red, a burgundy perhaps, or a smooth cabernet? Food’s almost ready. Have either of you heard from Troy?”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
“What’s up, my peoples, my peoples!” Without a doubt the most gregarious of the three, the youngest Morgan man made an entrance of swagger and noise, walking over and giving a quick nod to Sam’s portrait before exchanging fist pounds with his brothers. He then went over to Jackie and lifted her off the ground.
“Put me down, boy!” Jackie’s pummeling of Troy’s back was halfhearted; she squealed like a schoolgirl when he spun her around. As she landed, she turned to see Michael standing by the window, texting. His expression suggested that something was going on with him, but she was close enough with her son to know that she’d find out nothing that he didn’t want to tell her. She only hoped she could lighten whatever load he carried while he was here. “Michael, I need you to set the table. Gregory,” she continued, heading to the kitchen, “let’s put those surgeon skills to work and have you carve the roast. Dinner is ready.”
For the first few minutes after sitting down, the most prominent sound in the room was silverware clattering against china. “As always, this is great, Ma,” Troy said, around a forkful of roasted potatoes, carrots, and Brussels sprouts.
“Stop talking with your mouth full, boy!” Gregory admonished.
“That’s right,” Jackie said. “A matter you’d get reminded of more often if you had a missus in the house, if there were any more women in this family besides me.” She pointedly looked around the table before taking a ladylike bite of beef and then patting her mouth with a napkin. “I think y’all three should have sown enough oats to
feed a starving country. Now I know you don’t like my meddling and I’m not. Just giving my opinion is all and, for the record, I think it’s time to move on to the next phase of your lives.”
Groans. Moans. The rolling of eyes.
“And the sermon begins.” Michael speared a healthy bite of roast beef and chewed.
“There are women in the family,” Troy offered. “They’re called cousins.”
Gregory wisely kept silent.
Jackie went on, totally undeterred by the lack of enthusiasm. “Michael, Mary and I had lunch the other day. She told me that her daughter is now divorced and is moving back to Los Angeles.” Mary was a former neighbor and one of Jackie’s best friends.
“Hmm,” was his noncommittal answer.
“I always liked Alison, and never did think she loved that guy from college.” A beat and then, “She’s always loved you, Michael. You two made such a good-looking couple. I think she married that guy simply because she couldn’t have you.”
“You think so?” Michael responded, ready to take the glare of the singlehood spotlight off himself. “I always believed her eyes were really on Gregory.”
Gregory held up his hands in a sign of surrender, even though he had no intention of doing so. “Don’t get me into it, big brother. You’re the one who dated her for a year.”
“And then broke her heart,” Troy added, loving that it was Michael on the hot seat and not him. For a change.
“Let’s not start talking about broken hearts, baby brother,” Michael warned. “Because word on the street is that”—Troy coughed loudly—“somebody was seen at the Ritz.” Troy coughed again and this time, added a kick under the table to Michael’s shin.
“Who was at the Ritz, Michael?” Jackie asked.