Authors: Dorothy Phaire
“Chuck who? Nah, Alonzo. Think I’ll pass, Brother,” said Jerome, shaking his head and chuckling.
Alonzo shrugged. “Suit yourself. You youngsters today just don’t know good music. Later, Slick.” Alonzo waved, then, stretched out his hand. Jerome slapped him on his open palm one last time as a parting gesture of friendship.
After Alonzo left, Jerome slumped back down on the coach. He clicked the remote to a daytime talk show. Alonzo’s visit had rubbed salt in his wounds. He had been trying hard not to think about his former boss and ruin his day. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how she had railroaded him. “Uncle Ike’ll help me clip that Barracuda’s fangs.” Jerome nodded. “Just wait ‘til they slap my EEO compliant on that heifer’s desk. This is one Brother, Odessa Dillon’s gonna regret tryin’ to set up.” Jerome cringed at the image of the woman the guys in the yard had nicknamed ‘The Barracuda.’ Mid-fifties, big boned with an equal combination of fat and muscle, dark eyes that could turn on you in a second, and always horny as hell—this is how he would describe Odessa Dillon if anybody asked. He had to admit that some men might find her attractive—he just wasn’t one of them. Jerome pushed the thought of her out of his mind. He forced himself to block out his former place of employment and everybody who worked there. He also couldn’t quite erase the fact that Odessa Dillon wasn’t his only problem.
He still owed the Jett Set Crew a lot of money and had no idea how he would get his hands on that kind of cash right now. Again, the only person in the world who could help him out of both fixes was Uncle Ike. With Uncle Ike’s help, he’d pay back his debt as well as file a sexual harassment complaint against Odessa Dillon. That way he’d eventually get his old job back, Odessa would be the one they’d let go, and he’d have a nice pocket of change in the bank from the successful lawsuit. Of course, he planned to split the award money from his lawsuit with Uncle Ike. This was the way Jerome chose to see the outcome of his current problems.
Just then the doorbell rang again. “Now, who the hell can this be?” he said and raised himself from the couch in no particular hurry. Jerome took his time getting to the door. The doorbell rang at least four or five times in succession. Whoever it was at the door, sounded determined. This time he didn’t bother to check through the peephole, but simply swung open the door. “What the hell! What the hell are you doing here, Leenae? asked Jerome, not bothering to invite her in. She held a shoe box under her arm and without invitation or uttering a single word, she elbowed past him and entered the house. Jerome didn’t need an answer. He could tell by the scowl on her face that she was pissed and he knew why.
“Look Jerome,” she finally spoke, jutting out her chest in defiance. “We both know you shoulda married me.” Jerome didn’t know what to say. Her eyes were charcoal-black slits of hatred as she glared at him. He found himself standing in the middle of the living room, facing her. Not knowing what to do and hoping Brenda didn’t come home early and find her there, he stood defenseless against Leenae’s rage.
“Why the hell did you walk out on me Saturday morning after all your promises Friday night. When I got up that morning, you were gone. All I found was this sorry-ass scribble you left on my kitchen table. Telling me you couldn’t see me again. You know after all we been through together I don’t deserve that bullshit. Friday night you said you was gonna move in with me, you remember that?” She still clutched onto the shoebox under one arm, and pointed her finger at him with her free hand.
Jerome finally found some words and coughed them up slowly. “I don’t have no good reason for what I done this past Friday night,” he said in a gentle tone, trying unsuccessfully to soften the stern look on her face. “I can see now it wasn’t a good idea to try to stay friends with you after me and Brenda got married. When I got fired, I needed a friend. I couldn’t tell Brenda what had happened at work. I thought you could be that friend but I took advantage of you and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry don’t cut it, buster.”
Leenae placed the shoe box on the coffee table. He looked at it and hoped she didn’t have a gun stashed in there. Then he reasoned she’d probably have her gun inside the leather pocketbook that hung from her shoulder, for easier access.
She placed both hands on her hips as she spoke. “Me and you go way back. We been knowin’ each other since tenth grade. We had a good thing going ‘til she went and stole you from me.” He could tell her voice was rising and her face had started to look flushed. He had to be easy with Leenae because he knew this chick was not in her right mind. Jerome held out both arms to her as he tried to explain. “Look Leenae. I never lied to you. You always knew I loved Brenda. Now that we have a son together, I can’t risk losing that. Not even to keep a friendship with you.”
“I’m tired of your bullshit, Jerome,” she said, “You came to me the other night, remember? You the one begged me to let you stay so she wouldn’t find out your ass was fired. After smokin’ up my stash and making love to me all night, all I get is some sorry-ass kiss off note!
Jerome’s muscles tightened and he swallowed hard. She was right about that. He did go to her looking to get high and needing a place to crash. Now, that he was once again in his right mind, he didn’t want to be bothered with her ever again. He took a deep breath and released it before speaking in a sincere tone. “Leenae, I’m truly sorry I hurt you. But please understand this fact. I am never going to leave my wife and son. And I am never going to be with you again. I don’t think we should even try to be friends anymore. It’ll be best for you and for me.”
Leenae snatched up the shoebox from the table and pulled off the lid. She turned the box upside down and dumped its contents on his living room floor. The shoebox had contained a bunch of torn up photos of the two of them since high school as well as other things that he had left at her place over the years. “Go to hell, Jerome Asshole Johnson. You are one lying, no-good Negro that I regret ever trusting in the first place. I musta had brain damage to ever believe in you. Thanks for nothin’ Loser.” She hurled the empty shoe box at him, and stormed out of the living room, slamming his front door behind her. If any of his neighbors had been outside they would have seen her march out of there and probably would have heard her yelling at him even from inside the house since he had not bothered to close the front door when she barged in.
Leenae had only been there for five minutes, but it was long enough to make a bad day much worse. He bent down and began cleaning up the torn bits of photos and chucking everything in the shoebox to be tossed out into the garbage can outside. He did not want Brenda to come home and find any traces that Leenae had been there, even though she had torn up the pictures in tiny unrecognizable bits. He didn’t think things could deteriorate much more, but they did. Not long after Leenae left, the telephone rang. When he picked it up he heard a loud, choppy, offbeat rhythm of percussion, guitar, and trombone playing in the background. Before Jerome could say anything, Bombillo from the Jett Set Crew spoke. “Where’s our loot asshole?” Jerome sighed without answering. He stool there in silence and held the phone to his ear, trying to fake a relaxed demeanor. He could not let on to Bombillo that he didn’t have things under control.
Jerome and Bombillo had been close friends in the old days. Back in middle school they called him Bruno Morales but now his former running partner was known as Bombillo to his drug-dealing Jett Set crewmembers. Bombillo had been promoted to the ranks of street runner for a known drug kingpin who had dominated the Northwest and Northeast corridor of the city for the past two years.
A Dominican who still spoke English with a Spanish, West Indian accent, he was born in Brooklyn but had lived in D. C. since grade school. Jerome listened while Bombillo talked. Because of their past ties, Bombillo was calling to give Jerome one last warning to show up with the dough he owed the crew for the five grams. Or, Bombillo explained, he wouldn’t be able to hold off DL, the crew’s official hitman, any longer.
Jerome finally spoke up with as much confidence as he could muster. “Yo, I need you to spot me a coupla more days, Man,” said Jerome, “Talk to Delroy for me, Baby.”
“Mira, if DL hears you callin’ him Delroy, he’ll smoke your ass just for that.”
“Nah Man, like me and you … me and DL go way back, Dawg. We both knew that chump when he was Delroy McShore.” Jerome knew better than to bring up Bombillo’s former name.
“That old school shit ain’t cuttin’ it no more, homie. You gotta come up with the loot right now.”
“I’m working on it, Bambillo, but ya’ll gotta give me a few more days, Man.”
“Aw’ight, I’ll see what I can do, Bro. But your bama ass better come up with the cash in a couple days.”
“’ppreciate it, Baby. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing,” said Jerome with an air of coolness.
“I ain’t the one who gotta worry.” Click. Jerome heard the dial tone after Bombillo hung up.
Jerome hung up the phone gently. He knew how to get the Jett Set Crew’s money and he planned to take care of it as soon as he could talk to Uncle Ike. He tried not to think anymore about his money, his women, or his job problems.
Before he could get more than two steps away, the telephone rang again. At first he ignored it, figuring it was probably a tele-marketer this time. After the second ring he thought it might be Brenda calling and she’d worry if he didn’t answer. Based on how he was feeling, if it turned out to be another person wanting him to pay off his debt, or even one of those damn telemarketers, he’d come through the phone and break his neck. “Yeah?” Jerome answered gruffly.
“Hey, handsome, how’s it going, Baby?” said Brenda.
“It’s going,” sighed Jerome, not bothering to put on a pretense for Brenda.
“You don’t sound so sure,” she said. “I was calling to find out what you want for dinner tonight. I have to stop by the grocery store after I pick up Justin, just to get a few staples and stuff that I noticed we’re out of.”
Jerome perked up. “Don’t worry ‘bout dinner, Baby. I’m a cook dinner for us tonight. All you gotta do when you get home is put your feet up and relax. I’ll even get Baby Buddha ready for bed and fix his bottle if I have time before my 8 o’clock rehab meeting.”
“Hum, I could get used to this. But I’ll be a little later than usual since I have to pick up Baby Buddha from my mother’s. Mama and Daddy’s house isn't as close as the old babysitter’s place was. I’ll be glad when I find someone qualified and permanent to look after him.”
“You know, Baby, I can leave here in a few minutes and run by your Mom’s to pick him up early. That way you don’t have to go out of your way when you leave work.”
“No, that’s okay, Baby. He’s fine with my mother. I just spoke to her and Justin’s napping now. She told me that her stylist knows someone who runs a licensed home daycare center. I’m going to interview her after work tomorrow. If that works out, Justin'll have a new babysitter.”
“I still don’t see why he can’t stay home with me until I find another job,” sulked Jerome, “I’m here all day.”
“It’s too much responsibility for you right now, Jerome,” Brenda sighed. Then she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I’m sorry, Baby, but my other line is ringing. I have to go, Honey.”
“Okay, Baby, I’ll see you when you get home,” said Jerome, not able to hide his disappointment at not being trusted to take care of his son. “Love you like crazy.”
“Love you too.” Brenda blew him a kiss before hanging up to get to the other line.
Jerome felt bad that Brenda didn’t trust him to watch their son until he found a job. If his flighty mother-in-law could baby-sit, he certainly could. But he knew he should just be grateful that Brenda had forgiven him. He wouldn’t trade being a husband and father for the world. Nothing or no one could make him mess up again. His family meant everything to him. Hopefully, Leenae got the message and would get over it. Somehow he’d get Bambillo his money and file that EEO complaint against Odessa. That way he’d get his old job back and have a nice pocket of change in the bank from the lawsuit. In Jerome’s mind it would all work out just fine.
S
everal days had passed. Finally, it was Thursday morning and Bill was due home from India later that day. Renee sat at the kitchen counter and ate a light breakfast of croissant, orange juice, and fresh fruit. She folded back the newspaper and read the forecast: cool and cloudy all week. A blanket of fog concealed the view outside her picture window. There was no sign of life anywhere. Not even a squirrel darted through the yard or other small animals rusted in the bushes like they usually did. Outside it looked like a ghost town but inside her home a renewed life emerged. Now that she was pregnant, becoming a good mother became her main concern. If she wanted their child to be raised in a stable, two-parent household, she’d need to put more energy into saving her marriage. Renee hoped she could convince Bill to start marriage counseling with Helen before the baby’s birth. She had not scheduled any appointments with her own patients today so she would be in a mellow frame of mind and would have enough time to get things ready for Bill’s return home. After being gone a week, he called last night to say his flight would be delayed a few hours due to airline security. That meant he wouldn’t arrive into Dulles until 5:30 and should be home by 7:00
PM
.
So much had happened the week while Bill was away. No matter how hard she tried to control it, her infatuation for Deek had not faded. But she was so glad she had not slept with him that night at Kent Island. The more she tried not to think about him, the more he invaded her thoughts. He called everyday on the pretense of a general, friendly conversation, but the longing in his voice was evident. She wondered if he only wanted what he couldn’t have. Was his persistence due to some kind of macho ego trip? No, she thought, to be fair, Deek was not that immature. Had she broken down and accepted any more of his daily lunch or dinner invitations while Bill was gone who knows where that seemingly innocent encounter would have led to next. Renee accepted the fact that people just couldn’t have it all. She had found her soul mate in Deek and their moments together were always pure heaven, but they didn’t last and it never would. She discovered she couldn’t experience happiness amidst lies, secrecy, and guilt. The price to pay for happiness with Deek was too great. Finally, on Tuesday she had mustered the courage to ask him not to call her anymore and since then he hadn’t. Renee convinced herself that after all those years of infertility and loss, she’d finally be able to find joy and fulfillment in motherhood. Perhaps she’d even be able to rekindle the desire that she and Bill once felt for each other at the beginning of their marriage.