Abnormal Lives (12 page)

“Yeah, it says somebody name Martha and Kirk live in the one down here.”

“What I'm thinking is this, since they have the same last name as Wayne and it lists their ages as sixty-five and sixty-seven, those are his parents.”

Stefan looked up from the paper for a minute and nodded his head in agreement.

“And this lady right here listed beside the one in Florida, that's the ex.”

“Well, I'll be damned,” Stefan said. “Who was it that said you couldn't think critically?”

Simone sucked her teeth and continued to share her findings. “And look at what it says his approximate net worth is.”

“I swear, this nigga's getting money,” Stefan said. “I'm mad at that.”

“Why?”

“'Cause I ain't get to him first.”

“You'll get over it but, in the meantime, be happy for me.
He's gonna be my baby daddy
,” Simone sang as she bounced around on the counter.

Stefan put his index finger in front of his lips. “Shhh.”

“Why?” Simone asked.

“I thought I heard somebody at the door.”

“I ain't hear—”

Thump...thump...thump.

“What you waiting for? Go see who's at the door,” Stefan said. Simone slid down off of the counter and made her way to the door. The knocks became louder as Simone made her way downstairs.

“Goddamn, wait a minute!” Stefan shouted down the stairs.

“Who is it?” Simone asked.

“Paris.”

Simone opened the door and Paris barraged past her, sniffling in a tissue, and plopped down on the living room sofa.

“What's wrong?” Simone asked.

Paris sat in silence for a few seconds before bursting into tears. Simone sat down beside him and threw her arm over his shoulder to comfort him.

Stefan made his way downstairs. “What's wrong?”

“I just left from over Michael's house,” Paris said. “Today's his birthday. I made dinner for him and everything. I took a cab over to his house and who do you think he had over there with him?”

“Who?” Stefan and Simone asked in unison.

“Jewel,” Paris said.

“What?” Simone squealed.

“Stop playing!” Stefan shouted.

“Shit, I ain't playing,” Paris said. “Once he looked over his shoulder and saw Jewel standing behind him, he hurried up and slammed the door. Damn near slammed my finger in it.”

“And, what did you do?” Simone asked.

“I was over there for about a half-hour trying to kick the door down to get in,” Paris answered.

“I thought you had a key,” Stefan said.

“I do, but it doesn't do me any good when he has a bolt on the door,” Paris said. “I could strangle his ass for having me out there looking like a damn fool. All the neighbors were outside staring at me and shit.”

“Okay, I've got a question for you,” Simone said.

“What?” Paris asked.

“What happened to the food?” Simone asked.

“I just told you my man's fucking Jewel and all you can say is what happened to the food,” Paris said.

“I wanted to know if you still have it; there's no need to let it go to waste,” Simone said. “Goddamn, you act like I'm the one fucking Michael.”

“Well, too late, it already went to waste. I slung them pots and pans at the windows, trying to get in,” Paris said.

Simone and Stefan sniggered.

“I bet his front porch looks like a big-ass casserole,” Simone joked.

“Y'all laughing; I'm ready to go back over there, wait for Jewel to come out, and fuck his ass up,” Paris said.

“Shit, if that's what you're trying to do,” Stefan said.

“Yeah, it's whatever,” Simone agreed.

Paris jumped up off of the sofa. “Then let's roll.”

10

S
imone, Stefan, and Paris pulled up at the end of the block, three doors down from Michael's place. They scoped the block for any signs of Michael and Jewel.

“They're gone,” Paris said.

“How do you know?” Simone asked.

“'Cause his car's not out here,” Paris answered.

“So what are we still sitting here for? Ain't like we can do nothing if they already gone,” Simone said.

“Since I can't get my hands on either one of them, I'm gonna go in here and fuck his shit up,” Paris spat.

“I'm down with that,” Stefan said as he got out of the car and started toward Michael's house.

“Wait a minute,” Simone said. “It's still light outside. What if somebody sees us?”

“Who gives a fuck?” Stefan replied.

“It's not like we're breaking in. I've got a key,” Paris added reassuringly.

“But what if the neighbors hear us busting his shit up?” Simone asked.

“So? Fuck them,” Stefan snapped.

Simone and Stefan stood on the porch, waiting for Paris to unlock the door.

“Damn, I'm mad he ain't clean this food and shit off the porch before he left,” Simone said.

“While we're in here, you should get a plate so you can scrape up what you want and carry it home with you, since you're so worried about it,” Paris snapped.

“I don't want that shit,” Simone said. “That's probably what it tastes like; some shit. That's why ol' boy's fucking Jewel. 'Cause he can fix a good meal. That nigga had to get tired of gnawing on that shit you be cooking.”

Paris's face became red and Stefan chuckled.

“I ain't in the mood tonight,” Paris said.

Simone laughed. “Well, I am, so don't dish it out if you can't take it.”

“Awight, y'all,” Stefan said. “Let's hurry up and get in here and do what we came to do before Michael pulls up and I have to whip his ass.”

“Hold on; I ain't say nothing about y'all putting y'all hands on my man,” Paris said. “I'd hate for us to be out this bitch rumbling.”

Simone and Stefan gave each other one of those “he-doesn't-want-it-with-us” type of looks.

Simone, Stefan, and Paris stood in the middle of the front room taking in the beauty of Michael's place. The chandelier dangled from the ceiling elegantly and covered the paintings and family portraits that hung from the white walls with a light that rendered them flawless. The white living room set looked as if it had never been sat on and crystal figurines covered every space on the mantelpiece above the sofa. Across from the sofa sat a forty-two-inch, flat-screen TV and on each end of the room sat two black and white, checker-patterned crystal lamps.

“Oh, it's nice up in here,” Stefan said.

“Wish I could live here,” Simone added.

Stefan examined one of the crystal lamps on the end table. “I
wish I could live here, too.” Stefan snatched both of the crystal lamps off of the table and smashed them together. Remnants from the lamps scattered across the room and Stefan tossed what was left of the lamps onto the floor. “But after I get finished, ain't nobody gonna want to live here.”

Paris looked down at what was left of the lamps and placed his hand over his mouth in disbelief.

“What's wrong with you?” Stefan asked.

“I didn't want you to break those,” Paris said. “His grandmother bought those lamps for him.”

“And your point is?” Simone asked.

“Good question,” Stefan said. “'Cause I didn't understand that shit either. Is his grandma dead or something?”

Paris shook his head. “Naw but—”

“Good, then she can buy him some new ones,” Stefan said. “Now I suggest we get to wrecking shit.”

The three parted company and began their tasks. Simone headed to the back. She spotted four gallon containers of paint; two white and two black. She lugged the two containers of black paint to Stefan, who poured it over the living room furniture and everything that shared the space. Then Simone made her way back to the back, passing Paris who was in the kitchen breaking up dishes and slinging food out of the icebox onto the floor.

Simone grabbed the two containers of white paint and carried them into the bedroom. She started by smacking Michael's belongings off of the dresser and then rummaged through the dresser drawers, tossing the contents onto the floor, hoping to find something of value. At the bottom of the drawer that held Michael's undergarments, she found a pink Rolex watch, a tennis bracelet, and a pair of three-carat diamond earrings. She fastened the watch on her wrist and hid the bracelet and earrings away in her bra.

Simone looked around the room, pleased with how much damaged she had caused. She picked up one of the containers of paint and splashed it across the floor where Michael's clothing lay, then used the next bucket of paint to cover the bedroom furniture.

Simone heard a scream and went racing into the front room. “What's wrong?” she asked, as soon as she caught sight of Paris.

Paris didn't answer. He stood there with his back turned toward Stefan, holding his head down shaking it back and forth. Simone looked over to see Stefan squatted over Michael's family portrait, defecating on the figure of the mother's head.

“Nigga, I know you ain't in here taking a shit!” Simone shouted.

“You think he ain't; right in that man's mama's face. Talk about anal fixation,” Paris said.

“You ain't lying,” Simone said. “When that nigga gets here, he's gonna be heated.”

Paris looked up at Simone and laughed and his attention went directly to Simone's wrist. “Where did you get that from?” Paris asked, grabbing Simone's wrist to examine the watch.

“It was in Michael's dresser,” Simone said.

“That's mine.” Paris took the watch off of Simone's wrist. “Michael gave it to me last year, then took it back that night we got into it at the bar. Did you run across any other jewelry?”

Simone thought about the bracelet and earrings that lay under her breasts, pinching her skin. “Naw, just that.” There was no way in hell she was parting with the bracelet and definitely not the earrings; she already planned to wear them on her date.

“I'm mad; y'all standing in here with me talking about jewelry while I'm taking a shit,” Stefan said.

“I'm mad you decided to take it in the front room,” Simone said.

Stefan headed to the bathroom to clean himself up. Simone and Paris stood in the front room assessing the damage.

“Damn, I forgot that paint was here,” Paris said. “He was going to use it to decorate the walls.”

“Too late!” Stefan yelled from the bathroom. “We already redecorated for him. I even left him a little housewarming gift.”

“Speaking of which, it's about time we bounce,” Paris said.

“I know, right; it's starting to smell like a sewer up in here,” Simone said.

“Awight, I'm coming,” Stefan said.

“Yeah, hurry up so you can help us with this TV,” Simone said.

“Help you do what with the TV?” Paris asked.

“Carry it to the car,” Simone said. “Shit, that's going home with me. What you thought?”

“Girl, we can't be carrying a TV down the street; that shit looks suspect,” Paris said. “Help me pick it up. I've got a better idea.”

Paris grabbed one side of the TV and motioned for Simone to grab the other. “We're gonna throw this shit out the window, so it can be on the porch waiting for him when he comes home.”

Simone and Paris stood in front of the window, prepared to toss the TV out.

“On the count of three,” Paris said.

“Okay,” Simone agreed. “One, two...”

“Oh, go ahead and toss that shit,” Stefan said as he grabbed hold of the TV and helped Simone and Paris propel it through the window.

The high-pitched screams of a child echoed in their ears. Simone quickly peeked out of the window to see if someone was hurt.

A little boy stood frozen on the stoop, looking down at the TV that had rolled into the yard. “Mommy!” he cried. “Somebody threw a TV at me!” the little boy shouted as he ran up to his house.