“I’ll show you!” shouted a ducking Tameer. His teeth chattered in mid sentence.
“I don’t think so!” came Jamaica’s reply, as she ducked and headed around the corner toward the rear of the vehicle.
Tameer knew Jamaica. He changed directions quickly, and headed for the rear of the vehicle as well. He knew she would try to catch him behind with a juicy cold shot to his back. He was right.
They bumped into each other on all fours at the rear of the Mustang. She screamed in surprise, and he tackled her.
Tameer was the more athletic of the two, thus, he was able to quickly maneuver himself into a dominant position. He rapidly pinned Jamaica down onto the ground, using his knees to hold her arms in place. Once finally in control, he nodded and smiled at her.
“I told you I would get you!’
Tameer began stuffing snow inside of Jamaica’s sweat shirt, bra, and panties. The coldness of the snow made her wiggle fiercely.
“I’m sorry!” Jamaica shouted. “Aaaagh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Tameer continued stuffing. “Nope! I’mma show you!”
“You cheater!” Jamaica screamed and wiggled and kicked. “It’s cold!”
“No shit! It’s snow, it’s supposed to be cold. Isn’t that what you told me in the room?” He smiled even wider. “I’ll bet you’ll think twice about lobbing snowballs at a sleeping man again!”
“I quit!” Jamaica screamed.
“You quit?” Tameer asked. He shook his head and kept stuffing. “Nope, say you’re sorry!”
“I’m sorry!”
“Say I’m sorry, Uncle Tameer!”
“What?” She stared at him.
Tameer began stuffing even more snow inside of her clothing. “Okay.” He shrugged his shoulders. “If you want me to keep going.”
“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry, Uncle Tameer!” shouted a freezing Jamaica.
“Say, ‘pretty please, with sugar on top’!” Tameer commanded.
“Okay! ‘Pretty please, with sugar on top’!” Jamaica repeated.
Tameer leaped up off of her, and ran into the apartment. He shouted back at her from the safety of the doorway.
“Sucker!” Quickly, he turned and disappeared inside.
Jamaica rose slowly, spitting snow out of her mouth, and brushing off her sweat shirt and jeans. Her hair was wet, which caused it to hang long in its normal silky-looking form. Standing in the middle of the yard, she shook her free-flowing hair, tossing it back over shoulders. She was determined to get Tameer. No one would get the best of Jamaica Tiera Rochelle. No one!
Jamaica leaned forward, to lift her snow covered bini from the ground, and her long, wet, silky locks fell forward covering her face. Again, she slung it back over her shoulder. Shaking her bini free of snow, she stretched it into a pouch, and set it down on the convertible’s khaki, fabric top. Slowly, Jamaica bent down, and began making snowballs to get her revenge against Tameer.
Shamika had been privy to the whole thing. It made her sick. She had sat in the window and watched the entire despicable affair. The chase, the tackle, the snowball fight, and Jamaica’s surrender. Their giddiness was like watching The Partridge Family. Or even worse, The Brady Bunch. Shamika wanted to spit.
They were obviously in love, however, this was less important to Shamika than being able to see Jamaica without her bini. She knew Jamaica, but couldn’t place her. It wasn’t so much her face, Shamika thought, it was the hair. She knew the hair.
She wanted that hair. She had discussed it, admired it, praised it, coveted it, and even tried to grow it. Dashawnique had told her that she couldn’t get it, because those people spent years growing it, and always under the care of a five-star beautician. Those people, she thought. Hmmmm, those people. They had the time to grow it, and the money to spend on it. Those people.
Shamika shook her head, because it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be! What would she be doing in the Courts, sleeping in the Courts, and running around with a boy from the Courts! It didn’t make sense. Again, she shook her head. But, the more she watched, the more she realized, that she knew that hair.
Tiera was a mega star, an actress, a model, a songstress, hell, she was a living legend! It couldn’t be her, Shamika was certain. Tiera was in New York. Hell, she had just released a new video. Shamika shook her head again. No way, it couldn’t be.
Shamika’s thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of her niece. The disturbance frustrated her.
“Tai, I told you to go play in the living room!” Shamika yelled. “Do you want me to spank you?”
Tai, a precocious five-year-old, who was for all intents and purposes going on thirty, shook her head in the negative. She, like any other five-year-old, did not want to be spanked.
Shamika pointed. “Then go in there and play!”
“But Auntie, Kenitra broke my doll!” Tai told her. She held up the two pieces of her toy.
Shamika exhaled loudly. “Give it here,” she told her niece.
Shamika held out her hand, and Tai held out hers as well. Frustrated, Shamika took the doll’s body form her niece’s right hand, and the doll’s head from her left. After a quick examination, she forcefully plopped the doll’s head back onto its plastic body, making it whole again.
The doll’s sequined, chiffon outfit had matching sequined high-heeled shoes. Its skin was a polished walnut tone, and its eyes a deep emerald with flecks of almond, were almost catlike in appearance. But it was the doll’s hair that did it: long, silky, and honey-brown, it hung down to its lower back.
Shamika turned the doll over and examined its face. It took only a few seconds before she tuned to her niece.
“Tai, did you wet this doll’s hair?” Shamika asked.
Frightened, Tai stepped back, looked down, and shook her head. “Yes…”
Shamika nodded. “Did you dip this doll’s hair in the toilet?”
Tai shook her head. “No, the sink.”
“It’s okay, baby. Auntie owes you a big hug!” Shamika wrapped her arms around the child, and embraced her tightly. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, okay?”
Tai smiled and nodded. She loved her aunt to death.
Shamika caressed the doll, and looked out the window where a now fully dressed Tameer, and a silky-haired Jamaica, were once again engaged in a snowball fight. Shamika lifted the doll against the window, and shifted her gaze continually between Jamaica and the doll, comparing them. Shamika turned to her niece.
“Tai, come here, honey.”
Tai approached, and Shamika lifter her onto her knee, so that she was able to peer out of the window. Shamika pointed.
“Look.”
Tai’s beautiful doelike eyes flew open even wider, when she spied her heroine outside of their apartment throwing snowballs. Tai covered her mouth with both her tiny hands and gasped.
“It’s T…T…Tiera!”
“Are you sure?” Shamika asked.
Tai nodded.
Shamika kissed her niece on the forehead, and gently lowered her to the ground. She turned and stared out the window once more, and again compared a life-size Jamaica to her tiny Mattel counterpart. Tai tugged at her housecoat.
“Auntie, can I go outside and play with Tiera?”
Shamika waved her hand. “Later, honey, right now auntie is busy.”
Shamika stared out the window, closely examining Jamaica and the doll again. After several moments, her conclusion was reached.
“You bitch,” she said softly first. Quickly her anger built. “You…fucking, mega-rich, snowball-throwing, man-stealing bitch!”
Frightened, Tai ran from the room in tears.
“Grandma, Auntie is calling my Tiera doll bad names!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Come on over here, Eddie Lee. I’ve fixed this for you.”
“Jamaica, you always make a fuss over me every time I come home.” Eddie Lee waved his hand through the air. “There’s no need.”
“It’s my pleasure,
besides, you deserve it,” Jamaica told him. “You’ve been clean for how long?”
“Four weeks,” Eddie Lee replied. “Four weeks of pure hell.”
He looked up, and Jamaica offered him a half-smile.
“Come on, Eddie Lee, I know it’s not that bad.”
Eddie Lee offered a laugh. “It’s not.” He slapped his massive hand against his paunch. “I feel good.”
Eddie Lee lifted his fork to his mouth, and sampled Jamaica’s cuisine. “Not bad. You’re becoming a regular chef-girl-Ardee.”
It made her smile. Jamaica sat down upon the tattered arm of Eddie Lee’s large recliner. The jaggedness of the taped tears in the faux leather no longer bothered her. She had become used to it.
“And you’re becoming a regular Eddie Lee Murphy,” she told him. “So what time do you have to be back at the treatment center?”
“I got a pass until four. Can you believe it, they trust me to stay clean for eight whole hours?”
Jamaica folded her arms and laughed. It ended suddenly when her thoughts shifted to someone else. She had been waiting to ask Eddie Lee a certain question for a long time. Since they were now alone, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.
“So what happened between you and Mrs. Harris?” she asked.
Eddie Lee stopped chewing. The question had taken him by total surprise. Slowly, he lifted his napkin, wiped his mouth clean, and stared at the table for several moments gathering his words. Finally, he lifted his head and turned to Jamaica.
“I don’t think it was because she stopped loving me. I think it was because she stopped loving our life together.”
Jamaica nodded. She understood the difference.
Eddie Lee cleared his throat.
“She wanted another life, a life I couldn’t give her, and a life we could no longer have.” Eddie Lee leaned back in the rusting, folded, metal chair, and nervously tightened his fist, crumbling the napkin it held. “She didn’t want a family; she didn’t want the responsibility, the commitment. And…And I love my boys, both of them. My boys were, and still are, everything to me. I was angry at her for not wanting this life, for not wanting our two magnificent children.”
His weary eyes looked down at the metal card table, and conveyed a sadness that was radiating, infectious. Jamaica wanted to rush to him and offer comfort, but she paused for lack of words. Eddie Lee continued.
“Jamaica, I…I…I tried to make her stay. I used my fist to try and make her stay. I thought that if she just stayed and gave things a chance, she would eventually like it. I ended up driving her away even faster.”
Jamaica rose and began her journey toward Eddie Lee. She was embarrassed, ashamed. She wanted to learn more about Tameer, but instead she unlocked the demons of Eddie Lee’s past. She had opened the flood gates to the pain which his heart soundly held.
“It’s okay, Eddie Lee,” she told him as she rubbed her tiny hand across his broad back. “It’s okay.”
“Jamaica.” Eddie Lee looked up from the table, and placed his hand on top of hers. “It was a long time ago. I can’t say that it no longer hurts, because I’d be lying. But what I do say is, I want you for a daughter.”
Jamaica laughed nervously.
Eddie Lee waved his hand toward a nearby chair, motioning for her to sit. She did.
“Jamaica, I really like you. I like you a whole lot better than that Dashawnique girl.”
Jamaica frowned, tilted her head to the side, and nodded. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Well, it was meant to be,” Eddie Lee replied. He reached out and took her hand in his. “Know what you want before you involve others. Know what plans you have, and tell your partner about them. Be honest up front, and don’t let other people get hurt.”
It was Jamaica’s turn to look down and stare at the center of the table. She was embarrassed, ashamed. It was as if Eddie Lee was reading her soul. It made her seriously wonder if he knew about her deception. It was her not knowing, that made her so uneasy.
“If my son ever lays a hand on you, and I doubt that he will, but if he does, you run. You run away, far away from him.” He shook his head, and shifted his glance away from her. “My wife did nothing wrong when she did that,” he said softly.
Jamaica looked up from the table. “Is that why…”
“Yeah,” Eddie Lee answered. He looked down again. “Yeah, that’s why I turned to alcohol and drugs.”
Jamaica rose and leaned forward embracing him tightly.
He laughed.
“What’s an old man done to deserve one of these?”
Jamaica kissed him on the cheek. “You’re so sweet.”
“Why, thank you.” He touched the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him.
“Are they going to let you come over for Christmas?” Jamaica asked.
“Oh, I’m sure they will.” Eddie Lee smiled at her. “But I tell you what, let me do the cooking.”
Jamaica folded her arms and leaned back. “What are you trying to say about my cooking?”
Eddie Lee’s gigantic, ever-ready smile appeared again. “Nothing, it’s just that I don’t know if you’re ready for Christmas dinner yet.”
“Oh Eddie Lee!” She slapped him across his massive, ironlike shoulder, and then rose from the table. “At least let me make the cookies for the carolers.”
“The what?”
“The Christmas carolers,” she answered. “When I was a little girl, that was one of my favorite things about Christmas.”
Jamaica closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as she reminisced. “Going door to door and singing. My favorite was ‘O’Silent Night.’” Jamaica opened her eyes and spun. “Eddie Lee, I used to tear that song up!”
Eddie Lee laughed heartily. “I’ll bet you did used to tear that song up,” he told her. “Your Christmas sounds wonderful, Jamaica, but…Christmas is a little different here in the Courts.”
“Different, how different can Christmas be?” she asked. “Christmas is a time for snow, and snowmen. It’s about carolers, Christmas trees, lights, and toys.”
Jamaica stared at Eddie Lee and smiled. “Lots of toys!”
“Well, it sounds like you were a very lucky little girl.” He turned in his chair and faced Jamaica. “Jai, most of the families in the Courts are barely eating during the rest of the year, forget about Christmas. A Christmas tree?”
Eddie Lee raised his massive arms and shrugged his shoulders. “Who has money for a Christmas tree? And toys, yeah right!”
Jamaica’s face went from incomprehension, to comprehension, to horror. Then came anger, and finally, determination.
“Eddie Lee, are you telling me that most of the families out here aren’t going to have a Christmas dinner, most of the apartments won’t have trees, and most of the children won’t get any toys?”
Jamaica was furious. Children without toys, and nobody was doing anything about it! Children wondering why Santa didn’t come to their home, thinking that they may have done something wrong, but deep down knowing that they had not. Children without a smile on Christmas day! Jamaica began turning red.
“Yeah.” Eddie Lee nodded slowly. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“Sad?” Jamaica shouted. “It’s impossible! Kids should have toys, at least on Christmas! Dammit, Eddie Lee! At least once a year, these kids should have a magical experience. Every child should!
Jamaica’s anger was seething, her nose began flaring. “Eddie Lee, where’s the telephone?”
Eddie Lee turned back to the table and lifted his fork again. “It’s over by the table, next to the couch.”
Jamaica rushed to the couch, where she slung pillow cushions and throw pillows around, until the cordless was located. The number to the motel was dialed before she even stepped foot outside onto the porch.
“China?”
“Yes. You could at least say hello first,” answered LaChina. “Especially since you’ve…”
“There’s no time for games!” Jamaic
a told her. “Don’t play with me, play with your boy toy!”
“I was!” LaChina countered.
“Well, stop!” Jamaica was embarrassed. “I had meant later, play with him later. I’ve got a job for you.”
LaChina exhaled loudly, and pushed Troy off of her. She sat up.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Her voice turned gruff. “What is it now, Jai?”
“Toys, food, Christmas trees, and decorations!”
“Okay,” LaChina replied. “I’ll be sure to tell Santa what you want. Can I go now?”
“China, this is serious,” Jamaica whined. “People here aren’t going to have a Christmas tree, a Christmas dinner, or Christmas toys. We’ve got to do something!”
LaChina exhaled. “Alright, Jai, calm down.” She slapped Troy’s hand away. “I’ll call the supermarkets, the toy stores, and some of the local tree farms.”
“Decorations!” Jamaica shouted into the receiver. “The kids will need decorations. We’ll bag them up and pass them out with the trees. One bag for each tree.”
“Jai, I know that you speak French, honey, but don’t mix it with English. You said we.”
“China, I need you!” Jamaica shouted. “I need you to help me pass the stuff out!”
“No.”
“But, China!”
“No.”
“Where’s your Christmas spirit?” Jamaica asked.
“In New York.”
“Remember that old lady who lived in that big, creepy mansion at the end of your block?” Jamaica asked.
“Mrs. Devonshire? Yes, why?”
“You’re acting just like her.”
“Am not!”
“Are too! You’re going to be mean, old, and alone just like her. I hope your cats bite you in the…”
“Alright, Jai, alright!” LaChina exhaled loudly again. “I’ll call Jemia and see if she can scrounge up any help.”
“Thank you, LaChina!” Jamaica bounced up and down. “Thank you! I knew there was a reason why I loved you!”
Two Thin Dimes Page 16