Fixin’ Tyrone (12 page)

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Authors: Keith Thomas Walker

BOOK: Fixin’ Tyrone
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“Take it,” he urged, “I’m gon’ do right by you and my boy.”

“All right,” Mia said, and reluctantly reached for the money. But instead of releasing it, Tyrone grabbed her hand and held on to it. His touch sent a jolt of electricity

up her arm.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“Let go of my hand, Tyrone.”

“Am I hurting you? Dang, Mia, why you trippin’ with me like this? You actin’ like I got a disease or somethin’. I can’t even
touch
you now?”

“Okay,” she said and did not pull her hand away.

“I was wondering if we can,
me and you
, if we can go out this weekend. My uncle says he’ll let me use his car. I know you don’t wanna go in my mom’s.” He looked over to the hoopty in Mia’s driveway and chuckled. “We can go in that if you want to, but we might get stuck on the side of the road somewhere.”

Mia wasn’t smiling. “Tyrone, I can’t go out with you.”

“Why not?”

“I have a boyfriend.”

He flipped her hand over. “I don’t see no ring on yo finger. Can’t you go out with that lame next week?”

Mia smiled and drew her hand back. “You got some nerve.”

“What you mean?”

“You assume my boyfriend’s a lame. Why? ’Cause he doesn’t sell dope? Never been to jail? That make him lame?”

Tyrone grinned. “I don’t know nothin’ about all that. I don’t know nothin about him. I say he lame, ’cause he got a good woman like you and don’t know what to do with her.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Does TC like him?”

“My boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m just askin’ if my son likes him. The kids will let you know if yo man ain’t no good.”

“He hasn’t met them,” Mia said, not sure why she was sharing so much.

Tyrone nodded. “Yep. Just like I figured. You don’t want to take him around yo kids ’cause it’s somethin wrong with him. You
know
it’s something wrong with him.”

“My dinner’s getting cold,” Mia said.

“Cool. That’s cool. What about this?” He still had the sixty dollars in his palm.

“Are you going to give it to me, or do you just want to hold my hand?”

“I would love to hold your hand, and every other part of you.” Tyrone’s eyes were so enticing, Mia thought she would get lost in them. He held out the money, and she took it without incident. He turned and walked away.

“What about
next
Saturday?” he called over his shoulder.

“I’ll still have a boyfriend then.”

“I’ll give it about a month,” he said and opened the car door. He stared at her over the hood of the Bonneville. “He ain’t right. You’ll see it by then.”

“What makes you so sure?” Mia asked.

“’Cause
I’m
the one you’re supposed to be with. That’s why after all this time I been gone, you still ain’t married.

You can
settle
for somebody else, but you know I’m right.”

Mia stood on the porch and watched until he pulled off. That Bonneville was just as raggedy as his game. Tyrone was definitely full of shit, but when she got back in, TC told her he had the best dad in the world. Mica was pretty enamored with the ex-con also.

CHAPTER 8

TREAT HER LIKE A LADY

 

Saturday was a great day.

Mia made it to Claire’s at ten in the morning, and once again her man problems were quite the buzz. Everyone was glad she had gotten to the bottom of the Eric quagmire, but a few ladies, Vasantha in particular, still thought Eric was a master player.

“This could be his
ultimate
alibi,” she said. “The
twin brother
. He only use that one when he
know
he caught and can’t think of no way out. And he’s in the
war
? You better watch it, girl. Till you
meet
his brother, I say he ain’t got one.”

As for the pictures, Vasantha said they were Photoshopped, but she was the only one who felt this way. Nearly everyone else was inclined to believe Eric’s side of the story. Mia was glad for that, because she was still feeling tremors from their one night of passion.

As Vasantha gave her auburn highlights, and Nancy applied gloss to her French manicure, Mia told her girlfriends about TC’s father coming home. She also told them about his declaration of love before God and all the angels.

“Are you gon’ give him some?” Gayle wanted to know.

“Of course I’m not,” Mia said, but something in her eyes made a couple of the girls think otherwise.

And to Mia’s surprise, most of the women thought Tyrone
was
sincere about his claims. Mia agreed that prison does change
some
men, but she didn’t think Tyrone had that Malcolm X-type experience. Either way, her girlfriends were more interested in his
outer
transformation anyway.

Mia told them Tyrone was built like Evander Holyfield in his prime. His eyes were hazel, the color of a wheat field. She said Tyrone’s skin was bronze like an Aztec warrior’s and smooth like melted chocolate. Mia told them that when he grabbed her butt, a flash of lightning bolted from her heart, shot down her belly, and settled between her legs.

The overall consensus was that she should definitely jump his bones.

“Ooh, fresh out of prison, with all that
stamina
built up in him.” Vasantha actually had her eyes closed. “Girl, you
better
give him some before somebody else throw it at him. He want you. He want you
bad
.”

“Stop pulling my hair!”

Mama Ernestine would be the only one with sound advice. Today she wore a lavender blouse, black slacks, and a wig she called the “Lil’ Kim.” Before Mia left the beauty shop, the matriarch took her hands and lectured as only a mother could:

“That Eric sounds like a good man. Y’all had your problem, but you got over it. If he ain’t cheatin’, he might be the one you’ve been looking for. The other one, your baby’s father, he sounds like trouble. You a smart woman, Mia. You deserve the best, and I think you know Tyrone ain’t it.”

Mia left the beauty shop, as always, a fresh, vibrant, and confident woman.

* * *

 

When she got home, the kids were in their aunt’s room, crowded around the computer.

“What’s going on?”

“TC was showing me this game,” Crystal said. “Did you know they’re already using computers at school?”

“Yeah,” Mia said. She went and put a hand on her son’s shoulder. “They’ve been doing that since last year.”

Mica wrapped an arm around her waist. “Hey, Mama.”

“Your hair looks good,” Crystal said. “You still let that Mexican do it for you?”

“Yeah. Vasantha’s the best one there.”

“I wanna do hair when I grow up,” Mica said.

“No you don’t,” Mia said with a frown.

“That’s wrong,” Crystal said. “You should let her do hair if she wants to.”

Mia looked down at her pintsized princess. Today Mica had six ponytails with white bows. She wore a pair of denim overalls that she hated; Crystal thought they looked really cute on her, and Mia did, too.

“Baby, if you want to do hair, you have to go to college and get your masters first. You’ll be the most
overqualified
hairdresser in the city.”

Mica smiled. Crystal smiled, too, and Mia shot her a sneer.

“Go put your shoes on,” she said. “We gotta go.”

“Where we going?” TC asked.

“To the museum. I told you last Friday.”

“TC got a bad memory,” Mica informed. “He’s got marbles in the head.”


You’ve
got marbles in
your
head,” TC said.

“No,
you
do!”

“Get your shoes!”

They took off, arguing all the way. Crystal turned the computer off and then looked her sister up and down. Today Mia wore a green printed plaid skirt with black leather boots that were almost knee high. She had a white long-sleeved blouse with a green scoop neck vest over it.

“You look too good to be hanging out with the kids.”

“I can’t help it.” Mia smiled and did a model twirl. “Eric says I look good in anything I have on.”

“You’re just going to the museum?”

“We’re going to the Omni, too. They’ve got this show on dolphins, and—”

“Dolphins?”

“TC likes dolphins. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Crystal said, but she had a look on her face.

“Anyways, I think the feature this weekend is Ramses the Great.”

“Ooh. That’s a good one. I like mummies.”

“You like mummies, but TC can’t like dolphins?”

Crystal rolled her eyes, and Mia went to gather the kiddos.

* * *

 

The Overbrook Museum of Science and History was a place of fond memories for Mia. It was one of few educational venues her mother took her to when she was a child. Mia knew the layout like the back of her hand, but she let TC and Mica explore freely, losing themselves in the many winding corridors lined with priceless artifacts.

They went to the Omni first, and this was truly a theatre like no other. All of the seats were tilted upwards, towards the domed ceiling. The feature presentation played all around you, even on the walls. It was like a 3D experience without the glasses, and Mia loved watching her babies jump every time a dolphin swam close to the cameras.

The trio left the show excited, energetic, and eager to learn. They toured the dusty trails of the Wild Wild West and made fun of a life-sized Neanderthal. The T-Rex was scary, but they thought Genghis Khan was cool. They even read from a replica of Anne Frank’s diary. The mummy exhibit had ended one week earlier, but no one complained.

TC and Mica were still pretty hyper three hours in, so Mia took them to the children’s area, where they could do anything from electronic finger painting to making their own television show. Mia took a well-needed seat on one of the benches, and watched her little ones interact with other children their age. The kids were so animated, she’d swear Crystal gave them cookies for lunch.

When a nice-looking gentleman approached and said, “Excuse me,” Mia moved her purse, thinking he wanted to sit down. He did take the seat, but he continued to look at her.

“Hi, I’m Matt.”

“Hi,” Mia said.

“Which one is yours?” he asked.

Mia pointed out TC, but couldn’t immediately find Mica’s ponytails in the crowd. “I have a little girl here too, somewhere,” she told the stranger.

“That little ball of fire is mine,” Matt said, pointing to a redheaded boy who looked either five or six.

“He’s cute,” Mia said, still looking for Mica.

“Yeah. He’s all I got. Just me and him since my wife passed.”

“That’s sad.” Mia gave the man a good look this time. He was white, around her age, with brown hair and no moustache or beard. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, and had a prominent Anglo-Saxon nose and a friendly smile. Mia didn’t think he was hitting on her; some people are just friendly chatters, but Matt cleared up any doubt.

“You have a beautiful son, but that comes of no surprise because his mother is beautiful as well.”

“Thank you,” Mia said.

“I would love to have your children over one afternoon for a play date with my son, Jeff,” the stranger went on.

“Well, maybe th—”


And
if they’re busy that day, then we can ditch the kids and have a nice dinner with just me and you. What do you say?”

Mia couldn’t hide her surprise.

“You have a pretty smile,” he said.

“Thanks. Your name is
Matt
, right?”

“You remembered! Great. But you’re not going to go out with me, are you?”

“Well, you seem like a really nice guy . . .”

“Is it because I’m white? Tell me that’s it, because the alternative is I’m either unattractive or I have body odor.”

Mia laughed. “How about
this
alternative: I have a boyfriend.”

“Ahh.” Matt nodded. “The boyfriend strikes again, eh? Of course. Well, do you mind if I sit here for a minute or two? If I get up now everyone will know I got shot down by the prettiest lady in the museum.”

“Wow, Matt. You sure know how to make a girl feel good. You can stay as long as you want.”

“Great,” he said. “Any chance you cheat on your boyfriend?”

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