The Man in 3B (15 page)

“Daryl, man, you need to chill. This is no time to get in a pissing match over pussy. I like Krystal and all, but she ain’t worth it. She’s been with Slim for like five years.” I stood up and patted my buddy on the shoulder. “There are plenty of other fish in the sea. It wasn’t like you couldn’t have brought home any of a dozen of those women from the club last night.”

He took a calming breath. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m stressing over her. Obviously she ain’t nothing but a—”

I cut him off. “Don’t go there, man. You and I both know you’re talking in anger. Don’t let her take you there.”

He laughed, this time genuinely. “Look at you giving me advice. You’re taking this I’m-twenty-one-and-a-man shit seriously, aren’t you?”

“I’m supposed to.” I folded my arms. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for being there.” He pulled me in for one of those brotherly hugs.

“I’ll always be there for you, bro.”

He leaned back and said, “Now, listen. We need to get that thing back around my ankle. I know you’re good, but I’m home now, and I’m feeling a little paranoid.”

He had finally agreed to let me take off his ankle bracelet last night so we could go out to celebrate my birthday. It had taken me the
better part of an hour to figure it out, but I’d finally bypassed the relay signal on Daryl’s home-monitoring device, looping the signal from the device to his home phone. That way the connection was never broken, and it was safe to take it off without alarming the authorities.

You should have seen the look on his face when I’d finally laid the device on his coffee table. He was a little nervous, but once he realized the device was still working as if it were on his ankle, he broke out in this big grin and said, “I’m really impressed, Benny.” That made me feel good—almost as good as when I handed my ID to the bartender later that night and purchased my first legal drink. Yeah, overall it was the best birthday celebration I’d ever had.

Now it was back to reality, and the first order of business was to get Daryl hooked up again before he had a heart attack.

“No problem,” I said. “All I have to do is clip it on and redirect the signal back to the relay, but I’m still a little tipsy. You got any Coke or coffee to help me sober up? I don’t wanna make a mistake. It’s a little more complicated than it sounds.”

“No, no mistakes. That’s the last thing I need,” he said. “I don’t drink coffee, but I have a six-pack of Pepsi in the fridge and a 5-Hour ENERGY in the cabinet. That should be enough caffeine to get the light-headedness outta you.” Daryl spoke as he headed to his bedroom. “I’ll be right back. I wanna put on some loose sweats before you put that thing on my ankle.”

“Cool. I’ll grab that Pepsi if you don’t mind,” I said.

“Help yourself,” I heard him say as he disappeared into his bedroom.

I walked to the fridge and grabbed a can of soda, cracking it open and guzzling down a few swallows. As I turned to head back to the living room, I noticed a book sitting on the counter next to the refrigerator. I already knew Daryl was a reader, because I recalled carrying in several boxes of books when my dad and I had helped him move in.

Picking up the book, I read the title out loud, “
Both Sides of the Fence
by M. T. Pope.” I began flipping through the pages and then read the description on the back of the book. It described the story of a married man on the down low. Sounded pretty scandalous.

What the hell is Daryl doing reading this book?

I put the book down, picked up my drink, and headed back to the living room. Still a little curious about Daryl’s choice in reading, I strolled over to his bookcase to see what other types of books my new friend was interested in reading.

I browsed the shelf, noticing all kinds of nonfiction titles, books about sports and history and stuff like that. But then my eyes landed on a white book, and the title caught my attention. I pulled it from the shelf and stared down at it. “Whoa, shit!”

“That’s a pretty good book.” Daryl startled me and I dropped it. Good thing I had set down my soda or I’d owe him a carpet cleaning. I looked up at him. He was wearing a robe instead of the sweats he’d said he was going to change into.

“You’ve read this?” I held it up, the cover now facing him so that there’d be no mistake about which book I meant.

“Yeah.” He spoke casually, as if the book I was holding was the Holy Bible and it was normal for everybody to have read it.

“You’ve read
On the Down Low
by J. L. King?” Again I had to be clear that we were talking about the same thing.

“Yeah. It gave me a lot of insight into that lifestyle. You should read it,” he replied, shrugging and then heading over to the couch. I watched him position himself on the sofa, placing his ankle on the coffee table. “Okay, genius, put this thing back on.”

Still a little shocked, I put the book back on the shelf, then walked over to the couch and sat down next to Daryl, staring straight ahead kind of dumbfounded.

“What are you waiting for?” Daryl asked.

I picked up the device and knelt down on the floor next to the coffee table. I’d said I wanted to sober up, and I was definitely no longer drunk. I just couldn’t figure out why my hands were shaking.

“You okay there, Benny? You look a little nervous, man.”

I looked up at him, embarrassed. “Uh, yeah. I’m all right, but could you pull your robe a little tighter? I’m getting an eyeful of your privates, and it’s not exactly what I wanna see when I’m trying to concentrate. Know what I mean?”

“Oh, my bad. Sorry about that.” He pulled his robe closed, but I couldn’t shake the image of the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life—and I don’t even think he was erect. Now I’d been in my share of locker rooms playing ball, but I’d never seen anyone working with anything like that.

“So, um, Daryl, how long did you say you were in jail?”

“Not sure if I did,” he replied. “But I did eighteen months in Otisville, New York, a fed joint. Why?”

“Nothin’. Just asking.”

“Look, man, I told you. I’m no killer or anything like that. I just got caught up in some shit I had no business being in.”

I didn’t answer him, only kept my head down and my attention focused on the ankle bracelet.

Daryl tapped me. I looked up at him and he winked. “But I am gonna kill you if you don’t get this thing back around my ankle.”

“Almost done,” I said with a nervous laugh.

It took me around thirty minutes in total to put on the device and rewire everything.

“You up for a game of
Madden
?” Daryl asked when I finished. “I been practicing.” He picked up a game controller.

“Uh, look, you know what? I’m really tired,” I said, putting my tools in their case.

“Aw, man, who you fooling? You just don’t want me to finish getting in that ass.”

Exactly.
I swallowed hard and stood up. “No, for real. And you know how my pops can be. I better get going so I don’t have to deal with him.”

Daryl put down his controller. “Well, all right, I guess you’re gonna be the party pooper. I hope you had a good birthday.”

I made my way to the door. “I had fun. A little different than I expected, but nice. Look, Dee, I’ll get with you tomorrow, all right?”

“Cool,” Daryl said as I exited, then closed his door. I turned and looked back at the door, wondering was it possible Daryl was on the down low?

Ten pounds! I’d lost ten pounds since Daryl had started training me, and I felt like a new woman. I was exhilarated, rejuvenated, and renewed after stepping off the scale this morning at the YMCA. I hadn’t felt proud of myself for anything in so long. It sure as hell beat tired, weighed down, depressed, and lonely, which was how I’d been feeling the past few weeks since Avery walked out and asked for a divorce. Okay, I still felt lonely, but other than that I felt as good about myself as I had in a long, long time.

“Hey,” Daryl said as I was inserting the key into my door. We’d just come back from our Saturday morning workout. “You’ve really been doing well. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. I hope that Y scale didn’t lie.”

“Scale’s not lying. I can see it in your face.” He smiled. “That’s the first place you start to see weight loss. I really am proud of you.”

“Daryl, you’ve been a good friend during a really bad time. I don’t know what I would have done after Avery left if I didn’t have you to talk to—” I stopped because I could feel myself getting emotional.

“Hey, that’s what friends are for. To be honest, it’s his loss. You keep doing what you’re doing, and he’ll come running back, begging on his hands and knees. You’ll see,” he said as he headed toward his apartment. He slid the key in the lock and said, “By the way, me and Benny are going fishing on one of those charter boats this afternoon. Would you like me to bring you some fish?”

I turned to face Daryl before opening my door. “You catch, I’ll cook ’em. How’s that sound?” I winked at him, surprising myself.
I suppose those few little pounds I’d dropped had kicked in a little confidence. I was becoming the old me again.

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you later, neighbor.” He gave me his trademark charming smile, then went into his apartment.

“Bye, handsome,” I mumbled to myself as I entered my apartment.

“Where you been, Connie?”

“Jesus!” I screamed, practically leaping a foot off the ground. Avery was sitting in a chair across the room. “Avery, dammit, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” His words sounded gentle and kind, something I wasn’t used to. I was surprised by his smile and the confident aura he gave off. Kind of reminded me of the old Avery, the man I fell in love with so many years ago. “How’ve you been, Connie?”

“Well, considering my husband’s been gone almost two weeks, I guess I’m doing okay. I missed you, Avery.” I walked toward him, tears filling my eyes. I touched his arm and ran my fingers down his forearm. As much as he’d hurt me, as much as I’d tried to make myself hate him, that simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through me.

Before I even had time to think about what I was doing, I’d dropped to my knees in front of him and reached for his zipper. I knew what he needed. I knew what would make him stay.

He placed his hand on mine to stop me. “Connie, please. I didn’t come over here for that.”

“Then what are you doing here?” I was confused and humiliated at the same time. How could he not feel the same spark I was feeling? I got up off the floor, wishing I could escape this room, maybe wind back time so that I was back out in the hall, feeling good about myself.

He nodded toward the duffel bag next to him. “I had to get a few more of my things… plus, I wanted to give you this.” He reached down beside him and picked up a manila envelope that was folded in half. He extended it to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, dread filling my heart as I took the envelope from him.

He kept his eyes glued on the envelope, as if he couldn’t bear to
look me in the eyes—or didn’t want to. I looked back down at the envelope and ripped it open, pulling out the papers inside and giving them a quick glance.

“Are you serious? You still want to go through with this stupid divorce thing?”

“Connie, I’m sorry, but nothing’s changed,” he confirmed. “I told you I was here to get a few things.” He made a noise that sounded like a chuckle, and it felt like a knife in my heart. “What? Did you really think I was here to move back in with you?”

“Well, yeah,” I said.

Now he gave me an all-out laugh that made me want to slap him. My embarrassment transformed into pure anger.

“This is stupid, Avery,” I shouted. “You don’t have to do this. You’ve made your point. The same thing I used to get you, I didn’t use it to keep you. I know I’ve let myself go, but I realize that now, and I’m making strides to correct it.”

“Is that so?” He looked very skeptical.

“Yes. I’ve been working out and eating right. Hell, I’ve already lost ten pounds.” I ran my hands down my body, my eyes pleading with him to at least notice the weight loss, as minor as it was, and see that I was trying. I wanted him to understand that I was bound and determined to be the woman he’d fallen in love with, both inside and out.

He didn’t notice or at least he didn’t act like he did. It was like Avery looked right through me. “Look, Connie, just read over the papers, sign them, and give them to your attorney. I think you’ll see I was fair in what I’m willing to give you out of this divorce.”

“Ha! What you’re willing to give me? This is a joke,” I blurted, pissed off that he seemed to think he was doing me a favor. “You ain’t got nothing. If anything, the judge might make me pay alimony to your broke ass.”

I could see his anger rising, and I realized that things were near the boiling point. A moment ago, I was determined to show him how much I wanted our marriage to work, and now I’d let him get the best
of me and I was hurling insults. I had to dial back my anger before things got physical.

I softened my voice. “Look, Avery, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just so angry because I’m trying really hard here.” And I was trying—trying really hard not to break down in front of him. “I don’t want to give up on you, Avery. And I don’t want you to give up on me. I really don’t. Can’t you see? I’ve already lost ten pounds,” I said again, hoping this time he’d see it.

He stood there for a moment, looked me up and down, then said, “Sorry, but I’m done. Guess you’re a day late and about fifty pounds short.” That hurt worse than any punch he could have thrown. He brushed by me and opened the door. “I want those papers signed the next time I see you.”

“Goddamn you, Avery. You want out? Well, you can have out, but it’s gonna cost you. And last time I checked, your ass was flat broke. How you gonna pay me unless you’ve robbed a bank in the last ten days?”

“You’d be surprised what I’d be willing to do to get rid of your fat ass. Just tell me how much it’s gonna cost.”

“Twenty thousand,” I blurted out, picking a number I knew he’d never obtain. “You want me to sign, it’s gonna cost you twenty thousand.”