“When?” Tameer asked, still watching her performance on the monitor.
“I…” She could only stammer.
“After you were through using me for research for your next movie?” he asked.
She was confused. “Tameer, what are you talking about?”
He turned and faced her. “C’mon, Jamaica…I’m sorry, I mean, Tiera. Your next movie. Your next hood movie.”
His smile hurt. It was devastating, because of its genuineness. It was genuine in its bitterness. He was already convinced that she had purposely deceived him, and she knew that there was nothing that she could really say. Tameer folded his arms in finality. Jamaica told herself, that she still had to try. She at least had to give it one more try.
“Tameer, I wasn’t using you for anything.”
He shook his head. “Your role, the one in Poets and Gangsters, about the rapper from the hood. I know all about it…Tiera.”
Every time he called her that, it pierced her heart like an icicle. Tiera, she thought. It had rolled off his tongue like a ball of poison. She hated it.
“I haven’t even started shooting that movie yet!” Jamaica protested. She didn’t even know if she ever would.
Tameer’s arms unfolded, and he pointed his finger at her accusingly. “Because you’re still researching your damn role! You used me! You lied to me!”
Jamaica’s hands flew out and clasped Tameer’s arms. He stepped back, and pulled his arms away from her.
“Tameer, I didn’t use you!” Her arms hung in the air, wanting to grab him, wanting to hug him, but unable to. They trembled nervously.
“Everything I felt was real! Everything I said to you was real! I fell in love with you, Tameer, and that was no acting, and it wasn’t for any damn movie! I…love you.”
“Which one of you, Jamaica or Tiera?” It was cold.
“Both! God dammit, Tameer, both of them!” Jamaica’s hand flew to her forehead, and using her thumb and forefinger, she gently massaged her temples.
“I am one person,” she told him calmly. “I am Jamaica Tiera Rochelle.”
“Well, I’m pleased to finally meet you.” He patted his shirt and pants pockets rapidly. “I wish that I had something for you to sign.”
Tameer searched inside of a drawer behind the counter and found a pen. He placed it in her hand. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you go back to the motel room, look inside of your chest full of play things, and autograph my heart for me. When you get through playing with it, send it back to me, will you?”
Jamaica shook her head. “Tameer, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth? Don’t tell you that I fell in love with you, and that you were the best thing that ever happened to me?”
“Tameer, I’m still that person. I’m still that same person.”
Tameer shook his head slowly. “No, no, you’re not. The person who I thought I knew, I could trust. I trusted her, I shared my life with her, I shared my dreams with her, I let her into my home!”
Tameer slapped his hand across his forehead. “My God, you’ve been to my home!” He turned back to Jamaica. “I’ll bet you have fun describing it to your little friends!”
“Tameer, it’s not like…”
“I’ll bet you laughed real hard about old Tameer. The washed-up athlete, with the quacked-out mother, and the crackhead dad! I can see it now.” Tameer lifted his hand to his ear, as if he were talking on a telephone. “We have to change the script. I want to add a dysfunctional mother, and a crackhead father to the movie.”
Tears rolled down Jamaica’s cheek as she shook her head. “That’s real fucked up, Tameer. That’s real fucked up.”
Tameer turned toward LaChina, and withered away her scathing glance with one of his own. “You were in on this too. You’re no better than she is. Is this what they taught you at Spelman? That we’re no longer real people because we’re poor? That we’re play things to be toyed with and manipulated at your pleasure?”
“You know it’s not like that!” LaChina told him.
“The only thing that I know, is that I fell in love with a lie!” Tameer turned toward Jamaica. “It was a great big one. You hurt a lot of people. You came down to our world like some high and mighty goddess, bestowing gifts and favors, manipulating people, and interfering in people’s lives. You know what, when you’re gone, we’ll still be here. We’ll still be struggling, still be trying to survive, still be trying to get out of the Courts. Leave me alone. I don’t want your damn gifts. We don’t want your damn gifts!”
Tameer reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. He tossed them across the counter to her. “Go back to your world!”
Jamaica turned and flew from the store in tears. Kenya ran after her sister, leaving behind a smiling Beverly, and a guilt-ridden LaChina. Beverly stepped forward and spoke first.
“Impressive. Most impressive,” she told him, while clapping her hands in a slow, methodical, almost sinister applause. “Well, young man, you have done me a great service. Maybe now my daughter will understand, that there are elements in society which one simply does not have contact with. She will now return with me to New York, where she will soon forget about you, and this God-forsaken place, marry successfully, and then continue with a long and prosperous career. For your service, you may keep the Ford thing.”
Beverly pushed the keys back across the counter to Tameer. They flew off the counter and landed on the floor near his feet.
“If you do not tell the tabloids of your relationship with my daughter, I will give you one hundred thousand dollars. It is more than they will wish to pay. Consider the car a bonus. The check will be forwarded to you in the mail.”
Beverly turned away from Tameer, smiled and strutted off. “Good day, young man.”
LaChina turned, and followed Beverly out of the store.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The empty carton which once contained some thirty-five chocolate Bon-Bons, landed near the trash receptacle, joining the four other empty Bon-Bon cartons that preceded it. Crying, Jamaica rolled over onto her stomach and began opening another carton. LaChina continued to rub Jamaica’s back.
“Jai, you’re going to get fat.”
“What difference does it make?” Jamaica asked.
“You won’t be able to do all of your own steps in your videos anymore,” LaChina replied.
“I’m not doing any more videos.”
LaChina tilted her head to the side. “Jai.”
“I’ll use a body double!” Jamaica pouted.
Kenya sat down on the bed next to her sister. She too began to pat Jamaica on her back.
“Use a body double walking along the French Riviera in that two-piece,” she told her. Kenya leaned forward and grabbed the carton of chocolate-covered ice cream balls from Jamaica. “Or, try using a body double for the two-piece string you’re going to be wearing on the beach in St. Kitts.”
“I’m not going to the beach,” Jamaica told them.
“The ship ports, Jai,” LaChina told her.
“I know, but I’m still not going ashore,” Jamaica replied. She turned to LaChina. “Do you think the ship sells Bon-Bons?”
LaChina stood, turned, and extended her arms. She waved her fingers, motioning for Jamaica to rise. “Come here, sister.”
“No.”
“Come here,” LaChina repeated.
Jamaica rolled over and sat up. LaChina leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Jamaica. She began to rock Jamaica from side to side.
“It’s going to be alright, Jai. Kenya has called all of the Chipmunks, and sent out the broken-heart distress signal. When we get back to New York, all of the sisters will be there, and we’ll start the Chipmunk heart-healing process. We’ll have slumber parties, and we’ll go out to all of the clubs and get drunk. We’ll introduce you to lots of handsome, eligible, young men, and you’ll forget all about your broken heart.”
“I don’t want any handsome young men, I
want Tameer!”
Kenya and LaChina laughed. Jamaica joined them in their laughter.
“That’s not what I meant,” Jamaica told them. “He’s handsome…You know what I meant.”
Across the room, Beverly placed the suite’s telephone back inside of its cradle. She exhaled loudly, and then turned to them. “I used every means at my disposal, and I was finally able to secure you two a pair of first-class cabin suites aboard the Empress of the Sea. She departs tomorrow evening from Miami, so you’ll have to fly out tonight.”
Jamaica’s head fell to LaChina’s shoulder, and LaChina caressed it gently.
“It’ll be alright, Jai,” LaChina said softly. “It takes time.”
Tameer pressed the off button and tossed the cordless telephone onto the couch. He turned to Savion. “Save, I just got a call from New York. They say that I won some big poetry contest!”
Savion shrugged his shoulders. “That’s cool. How much ya win?”
“They really didn’t say. They were mainly talking about me publishing a book of my works.” Tameer sat back down on the couch. “Wait a minute, I’ll bet you it’s Jamaica again. She probably had some bum off the street call…”
“Nope!” Savion interrupted. “That’s not her style.”
Tameer shot his brother a look. “What do you mean, ‘not her style’? Since when did you become so familiar with her ‘style’ any damn way?” Tameer stood.
Savion stopped eating his cereal and peered across the table at Eddie Lee. They shared a quick smile. Savion turned back to his brother and exhaled forcibly.
“Are you going to pace the floor again all day?” Savion asked.
“If I do, what business is it of yours?” Tameer snapped.
“Touchy, touchy. Your whole little world came crashing down on you, and now you want to snap at me,” Savion told him.
Tameer nodded. “Sorry, but you are being a smart ass today.”
“I’m not being the ass, you’re being the ass,” Savion replied.
Tameer stopped pacing. “Didn’t we have this conversation last night?”
“Jamaica entered you into the poetry contest, if you wanna know,” Savion said flatly.
“How do you know?” Tameer asked.
“I was here when she did it. Hell, I helped her.”
Again, Tameer stopped his pacing and stared at his brother. “Whose side are you on? Great! That’s just great!” Tameer threw his arms into the air. “Who else is conspiring against me?”
Savion pushed away his now empty cereal bowl. “No one has to conspire against you, you’ll always screw yourself up.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Tameer asked angrily.
“You figure it out,” Savion replied.
Tameer threw his hand into the air again. “Savion, I told you what she did!”
“I know what she did. She said her name was Jamaica, which it is. She just didn’t tell you that her middle name was Tiera.”
Her middle name? How did Savion know…
“Whose side are you on?” Tameer exploded. “Dammit, Savion! You knew! You knew, didn’t you?”
Savion smiled. “Of course, I knew.”
Tameer pointed his finger at his brother and started toward him. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me!”
“You didn’t ask. Besides, Tameer, you were happy!”
“I was lied to!”
“By who? Who lied to you, and what was the lie?” Savion asked. “Did you ever ask her if she was a damn R&B star? Did you? No! You only saw what Tameer wanted to see. That’s how you are! You live in Tameer’s world, and not the real world! It’s always about what Tameer wants, and not about what anybody else wants!”
Savion rose from the table and approached his brother. “Did you ever think to ask her, or ask yourself, why she didn’t tell you? Look at the way you’re acting! Can you blame her for not telling you?”
Tameer turned away from his brother and smashed his fist into the palm of his other hand.
“Dammit, Savion, it’s not that simple!” He turned back to his brother. “She shouldn’t have lied in the beginning. She should have been truthful.”
“What lie did she tell you? That she loved you? You know that wasn’t a lie. When she slept with you, was that a lie? Do you really think that somebody would go through all of that, give me money for college, buy you a car, give away toys and Christmas trees to kids, and food to families, just to rehearse for a damn movie role? Think, Tameer! And don’t just think about things from your perspective; think about things from everyone else’s. She loves you, and you love her. You need her. She got you out of that slump, that stupid ‘I’m not worthy mentality,’ that you used to run around here with. Jamaica brought out the best in you. I hadn’t seen you like that since Dawshanique. Hell, she even fought for you!”
Savion swallowed hard and stepped closer to his brother. “She believed in your poetry, Tameer. She believed in you. The worst thing you could ever do is leave her alone because she loved you. She loved you so much, that she had to hide who she was, just to keep you.”
Slowly, Tameer lifted his head, and he stared into his younger brother’s eyes.
“Perspective? Mentality?” A smile appeared. “Have you been messing around in my dictionary again?”
The brothers shared a good hard laugh for several moments, before Tameer nudged Savion’s shoulder with his own.
“Savion, when did you become the big brother?” Tameer asked.
“I’m not.” Savion smiled. “I thought about what my big brother would say to me, if the situation were reversed.”
“Come here,” Tameer told him.
The brothers embraced.
“Tameer,” Eddie Lee called out to him.
Both Savion and Tameer turned in the direction of their father. Eddie Lee cleared his throat.
“I know that…well, seeing you two boys together makes me think sometimes, that I didn’t do too bad after all.”
It made them smile.
“I…sons, I…I know that I haven’t been the best father to you, and I put you through some changes. I loved your mother, and well…I ran her off with my fist…”
“No, you didn’t,” Tameer interrupted his father. “She was leaving, anyway.”
Eddie Lee sat up straight in his chair. “Who…who told you that?”
“She did,” Tameer told him. “I went and visited her in Houston last week. She left us, Dad. She left all of us. It wasn’t your fault. Dad, you stayed here, and you raised us by yourself. You kept food on the table, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads.”
Tameer looked down and shook his head. “You drove us hard, Dad. I mean, hard.” He lifted his head slowly, and once again met his father’s eyes. “But neither Savion nor I have ever sold nor used any drugs, and neither of us has ever been to jail. I’m graduating with honors from college in a semester, and Savion’s on his way to college with a full scholarship next year. Thanks…Dad.”
Eddie Lee had never been a man of many words, and he didn’t have any now. He had always driven his sons hard, because he wanted them to be men. He wanted them to be able to withstand the harshness of the real world. He wanted them to be fighters, guys who never quit when things got tough. He always knew that part of living was learning. And part of learning was falling. Eddie Lee wanted his boys to always get back up after a hard fall.
As part of his rigorous discipline, Eddie Lee had often told his boys that real men don’t cry. That is why it took them by surprise, when he lifted his big, meaty hand and wiped away a tear that had escaped his eye, and ran down his fat, wrinkled cheek. Eddie Lee sniffled quickly, and then rose from his chair.
“Tameer…don’t you let that girl get away, you hear me, boy? Don’t you let Jamaica get away.” Eddie Lee smiled at his son. “And that’s an order, son!”
Tameer quickly brought himself to attention, and gave his father a crisp, military salute. “Yes, sir! I won’t, sir!”
Chapt
er Thirty-Three
The motel room had long been empty. It was a fact that made Tameer’s heart feel as though it had fallen into his stomach. Jamaica’s beat-up Volkswagen sat abandoned in front of the now empty motel room, giving rise to some semblance of distant hope—at least until he realized that Jamaica had left the vehicle, because she no longer had any need for it. It had served its purpose, it had protected her identity, it had shielded its owner’s deceptions. But still, it had to be registered to some address and location. He would find her, he told himself. Be it in New York, Switzerland, or visiting her father in Louisiana, he would find her. He needed to write down the car’s license plate numbers, and start from there.
Tameer patted his pockets frantically, searching for a pen. There was none to be found. He didn’t trust his memory enough to leave without writing down the car’s license plate numbers, so he had to find a pen, a pencil, a marker, or anything that he could use to write down the numbers. He knew that the motel’s office would have something to write with.
The large cow bell that hung above the glass and steel doors of the office entrance announced his presence. There was no need. The clerk had been watching Tameer suspiciously since his arrival.
“Noticed you were looking at the red VW over there, Mister,” the clerk told him. “Are you interested?”
Tameer frowned. “Interested in what?”
“In buying,” the clerk said, as if it were obvious.
“I know the owner of that car. How are you going to sell something that’s not yours?”
“It is mine,” the clerk replied. He quickly reached beneath the counter and pulled out a stack of papers, and set them on top of the counter in front of Tameer. He lifted the document on top of the stack. “See, I have the title.”
Tameer quickly reached for the piece of paper. “Give me that!”
The clerk snatched the paper from the air. “Nope.”
Tameer frowned and leaned forward. “Mister, I need to find the owner of that car!”
“I’m the owner.”
Tameer examined the clerk for a moment. His disheveled clothing, missing tooth, scruffy beard, and alcoholic breath told him much of what he needed to know. He was getting nowhere, and he knew that it was only going to get worse. The clerk spoke only one type of language, and Tameer was angry with himself for not recognizing this in the first place. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. He held the money up in the air, directly in front of the clerk.
Two Thin Dimes Page 21