The Sweetest Taboo (18 page)

After Jeff served her the tea, he pulled up one of their black leather Pier One dining-room chairs and sat directly in front of her. He sat so close that his breath made her eyes blink. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Suddenly Yuri didn’t feel like drinking the tea. “And I love you too,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster. “And I really have to thank you for being there for me today. Not every man would take—”

Before she could continue, Jeff reared his hand back, squinted his eyes and hauled off and knocked the shit out of her. He smacked her so hard that her head moved back and forth like a Bobble Head doll that’d lost control. The hot tea splashed everywhere, specks of it hitting her eyes, burning her thighs and running down her legs. Immediately she jumped up to defend herself. He pushed her back down. “I wanna fuckin’ talk,” he spat, yoking her neck with one hand. “Can we do that?”

Yuri couldn’t believe what had just happened. It took her a few seconds before she could open her mouth enough to scream.

WHAPP!!!!
He smacked her again. “I’ll kick yo’ fuckin’ ass you scream in here again. Now, whose fuckin’ baby was that?!”

Silence. Instead of answering she sat there wondering how she could either kill him or get away; it was obvious that it had to be one extreme or the other.

“You want me to slap the shit outta you again?” He raised his hand. “Now, whose goddamn, rotten-ass dead baby was that?!”

“What are you talking about?!” she managed to scream. “Don’t fuckin’ hit me no more!”

“You still lying?!” He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her up off the couch. “I will kill you,” he said through gritted teeth. “You still wanna lie, Yuri? You still lying?”

“No!” she screamed. “Let me go!”

“Bitch, please. Lettin’ you go is the least of your fuckin’ worries! Now I’ma ask you this one…last…time…. Whose…fuckin’…baby…was that?”

“Jeff—”

“That wasn’t my baby, so what the fuck you calling my name for?! Are you trying to get yo’ ass killed?! I swear to God that the next word better be this niggah’s name”—he turned toward their picture window—“or I will toss you through that motherfuckin’ glass!”

Yuri tried desperately to speak, but she was shaking so badly no words would come out.

“Let me help you out.” He began walking her around the living room. Although she was fighting and screaming, he overpowered her, and when she managed to squirm to the floor, he slapped her again, wrapped her hair around his hand and began dragging her around the living room. “You fuckin’ wit’ Blake?”

Instead of answering she tried to dig her nails into his hand. Once she drew blood, he reached over with his free hand and smacked her so hard she could’ve sworn he broke her face. “You’se a hardheaded motherfucker. Now…we gon’ try this again. You fuckin’ Blake?”

“Who is Blake?” Tears and snot poured down her face and all she could see were the helicopter lights from the neighboring high-rise. “Jeff, please…”

Ignoring her plea he went on, “Bitch, is it Blake’s?”

“Who is Blake?” She shook.

“The fuckin’ mailman, bitch.” He started dragging her around the living room again. “Raheem,” he said more to himself than to her. “It’s Raheem’s?”

“Raheem?”

“Oh, you know Raheem, bitch.”

“Jeff, please stop!” If she could get on her knees and beg him she would.

“You fuckin’ Raheem?” He started dragging her again.

“Who is he?!”

“Radio Raheem, bitch. Who the fuck you think it is?! You know that niggah is the cable man, he’s in here all the goddamn time!”

Yuri couldn’t believe this was happening. Everything seemed to be spinning. As Jeff went to lift her off the floor by her neck, he heard her cell phone ringing. Robin Thicke was singing “Lost Without U,” causing Jeff to stop dead in his tracks. He held Yuri by her neck and for a moment that felt like it went on into infinity, they were both silent. Both of them knowing that the shit had finally clicked. “That’s that niggah. There he go right there.” He let her go and went for her cell phone, which rested on the coffee table. “Britt…” Jeff read the caller ID. “Britt?” He chuckled in disbelief as he answered the phone. “So tell me dawg, you fuckin’ Yuri?”

“What?” Britt was obviously caught off guard.

“Man-up, niggah.”

“Jeff…” Yuri said in the background. “Give me the phone.”

“You crazy, Yuri? Give you the phone? Bitch, do you get it? I’m two seconds from killing you.”

“Bitch?” Britt said calmly, yet in disbelief. “You called her a bitch?”

“What the fuck you gon’ do about it, niggah? You weren’t here when that fuckin’ dead-ass baby died in my bed! Did I call her a bitch? Who the fuck you think you talking to?”

“Jeff, please give me the phone,” Yuri begged.

“Bitch, what I tell you?”

“I’ma ask you nicely,” Britt said, doing his best to remain calm, yet letting Jeff know he wasn’t playing. “Don’t call her a bitch no more. Now put Yuri on the phone.”

“Put her on the phone? You think this is a game? I’ma kill this bitch!”

“You know what? You done went too motherfuckin’ far!” And he hung up.

“I’m sick of being treated like a fuckin’ joke!” Jeff threw the phone across the room, shattering it into pieces. “I done went too motherfuckin’ far, but he fuckin’ my wife? I’ma kill ’im!” Jeff started pacing back and forth across the room, snapping his neck from one side to the next. “Motherfuckers laughing at me,” he repeated. “Y’all think Jefferson McMillan is a joke, but y’all niggahs the joke. A baby? A baby, Yuri? You…got…to be fuckin’ kidding me. How was you gon’ come up in this motherfucker with a baby, Yuri?”

“The same way you came up in here with one!” Now that Jeff had started pacing the floor, Yuri had a moment to collect herself. She wondered if she had enough time to race in the kitchen, get a knife and stab this motherfucker for putting his hands on her.

“You talking, Yuri? You want me to beat the shit outta you again?!”

“I wish you fuckin’ would, and one of us will die up in here today!”

As Jeff raced toward Yuri, Drae flew through the door, practically twisting her ankle as she fell in. “Yuri!” she said as if she had run up all twenty-five flights of their stairs. “I heard you screaming!”

“You fat-ass filthy fuckin’ bitch!” Jeff rushed Yuri, knocking her to the floor.

Drae did what she could to break them up; and when she saw Jeff had taken a step back and seemed to be making his way so he could stomp Yuri, Drae pulled her out of the way, and jumped on top of her.

“Both y’all bitches is trash, so what the fuck I care about tossing you out with this bitch! This no-good tramp, who nobody liked except me is fuckin’ Britt behind all our backs. This bitch is fuckin’ Britt!” he said in a rage of disbelief. By the look on Drae’s face, Jeff could tell she already knew. He couldn’t believe everyone knew but him. It was official: They were all laughing at him. “You fuckin’ bitches! I should fuckin’ piss in both y’all’s faces! Y’all cunts think I’m some type of joke?! Get the fuck out, before I throw y’all out that window!” Jeff picked up the coffee table and threw it across the room. “Get the fuck out!” Feeling they weren’t moving fast enough, he grabbed Yuri by her waist and Drae grabbed on to her feet. She thought for sure he would be throwing her out the window.

Somehow Jeff had Yuri and Drae both lifted off the floor. And as if he were the bionic man playing football, he took them and threw them out the front door, their bodies making a thud as they hit the wall.

Jeff came out into the hallway, where building security, who’d received a complaint about someone fighting, blocked his path as he prepared to tackle the women.

Yuri had never seen Jeff like this; he had gone completely crazy.

Just as security thought they’d stopped Jeff dead in his tracks, he started coming in their direction again. Out of fear, Yuri and Drae took cover and the police who were coming out of the elevator now pulled out their guns. The security guards moved Drae and Yuri out of the way, causing them to fall to the floor, while the police were able to catch and handcuff Jeff before he attacked them again.

“Yo, my man” floated over Yuri’s shoulder. Britt walked over to her. “Can you stand up?”

“Yes.” She nodded her head as Britt lifted her from the floor. Looking at the bruises on her face, he stroked her cheek. “I can’t believe this motherfucker put his hands on you.”

“I swear to God I’ma see you, Britt!” Jeff screamed.

“You see me now, motherfucker,” he said, pushing Yuri to the side. “Now what you wanna do?!”

“Okay, time to break this up,” the police officer spat. One of the officers turned to Yuri. “Miss, I think you need to get some things and leave for a while.”

“I don’t want anything,” Yuri nervously responded as she grabbed Britt by the hand. “I just wanna go.”

“Yeah, we gon’ go after you get yo’ shit,” Britt said, never taking his eyes off Jeff. “You ain’t got to be afraid of nofuckin’-body.”

Security escorted Yuri and Drae into the apartment. Yuri pulled out her Marc Cross luggage and took all the clothing, shoes, jewelry and purses she could; and what she left, she would have to do without. She picked up the keys to her Touareg and walked back out the apartment door.

Yuri watched the police read Jeff his Miranda rights as they arrested him. She had never seen so much hurt in Jeff’s face. She could tell he wanted to cry and scream at her: Why? Why all of this? Was what he did with the white bitch this bad? Did she hate his son this much? And, yeah, he’d beat her ass, but look at what she did. Before this he never put his hands on her, all of his punches flew out his mouth.

She never wanted to see Jeff in this predicament. She simply wanted to one day get the courage to walk out. No hard feelings. No unsettling good-bye, just some yesterdays lost behind them. But this? This had gone too far. He didn’t deserve to be going to jail, he didn’t deserve those handcuffs squeezing his wrist, he didn’t deserve any of this. Nevertheless, here she stood with Britt making the shit worse.

“You have to come to the precinct by the morning,” one of the officers said, “and officially press charges.”

Yuri stared at the officer, already knowing that he wouldn’t be seeing her again. She just wanted this day to end. It was apparent that the fairy-tale ending of her marriage wasn’t going to happen, so she needed to simply say good-bye by turning her back and walking away.

Drae looked at Yuri and shook her head. She had fresh bruises on the side of her face from being slammed into the wall. Yuri knew that Drae wanted to spit out “I told you so,” but for whatever reason she didn’t.

Yuri looked at Britt and then she looked at Jeff, who had tears pouring down his face.

“Look,” Britt said, “you know I’m not one for speeches. So if you got some kinda special way you wanna say good-bye to this motherfucker, hurry up and do it, so I can get the fuck outta here.”

“I don’t have nothing I wanna say.” Yuri swallowed. “I’m good.” She turned to Drae. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, but thank you for being there for me.”

“Yuri,” Drae spat, “save it. ’Cause I don’t even wanna hear it.”

Drae

         Drae couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She had to be dreaming. Hassan sat on the edge of the bed with a glass dick stuck between his lips and a butane lighter burning underneath it. He opened his mouth and clouds of smoke floated out.

“Have you…lost every bit of your fuckin’ mind?” Drae snapped as she stood at the door, ready for work. She was dressed in a red-and-white mud-cloth wrap skirt, a sleeveless white tee, a denim midriff jacket, and canvas Coach espadrilles. This was the last week of school and she was helping some of the students get their working papers for summer jobs. “You strung the fuck out?!”

“Strung out, strung the fuck out on what, Drae?”

“On the glass dick in your mouth!” she snapped.

“I’m not strung out, maybe I just like dicks in my mouth.”

“I’m not even gon’ fuckin’ address that.”

Hassan took one last pull from his pipe and then looked at the black burn mark underneath. “Where the fuck you been, Drae?” Hassan spoke in a raspy voice, his eyes half closed. “You know how much money I done missed messing with yo’ ass?”

He stood up, placed the pipe and lighter in a black velvet bag and tucked it in his dresser drawer. “I have had auditions lined up all week, and I know you been getting my fuckin’ messages. But word is, you done filled my position and now you playin’ Captain Save a Ho. Gettin’ stand-up niggahs locked up and shit. Is that what you do in yo’ spare time, Drae? Play GI Jane, bust up in niggahs’ houses and shit, playing Batman and fuckin’ Robin? I wish y’all two bitches would try that shit up in here, and I would take and whale on yo’ asses!”

“I didn’t know fiends had that much energy! I can’t believe that you a fuckin’ fiend.” She shook her head in disgust. “Where the fuck do I get off at? When does this shit end?” Drae looked at him as if he had the answers. “You just a twisted-ass niggah! I have got to get away from you.”

“And how long you think you gon’ live, when you leave? You think I’ma let you go, fuck another niggah and fuck my money. Then maybe I need to ask you what the fuck you smokin’? If you want some extra dick, then tell Naz he welcome over here. Let me see him fuck you again. Otherwise, if I see you with that niggah again, I’ma kill you.”

“Naz? What are you talking about, who is that?”

“Girl, I will bust you in yo’ fuckin’ mouth if you try to tell an unnecessary lie—just know I’ve seen the shit. A’ight? Anyway,” he snorted, while scratching the side of his neck, “it’s some niggahs downstairs with hard dicks you need to see.”

“What?”

He could tell she was caught off guard. “What the fuck you surprised for? You got work to make up.”

“What?”

“Audition: Take Two, bitch.”

“What?”

“Say ‘what’ again and I swear I’ll bust you in yo’ fuckin’ lips. Now say I won’t. Say it….” When she didn’t respond he said, “I didn’t think so.”

“Whatever, Hassan.” She grabbed her purse and oversized bag for work. “I told you this ho’s retired; find another bitch to pimp.”

“I married the bitch I was gon’ pimp. As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, I lined up a threesome audition. You need to drink a lotta water, ’cause I want you to pee on one them niggahs. Now, Captain Save a Ho, get out there and handle your business.”

“Aye, aye! Captain Save a Ho will be right there!” She saluted him as she walked out her bedroom door. “You keep right on waiting.”

He ran up behind her and hooked her neck in the crook of his arm. “What the fuck did I say you was gon’ do bitch?!”

“Get…offa…me!” she gagged.

“Not until you suck them dicks and get fucked in the ass! You not gon’ fuck up my money. You wanna spend the shit, but you don’t wanna get down for it? Oh, you gon’ do what the hell I say.”

“Hassan!” a high-pitched feminine voice yelled. They could hear her feet pounding up the stairs. “What is taking so long?” She stood at the door and her eyes locked with Drae’s. It was the same woman from Fantasy Island.

“Is this a dream?” Drae asked as Hassan let her go. “You brought this bitch to my house? Are you serious?”

“Did I give you permission to come up these stairs?” Hassan barked at the girl. “What the fuck is on your mind? Didn’t I tell you I had some business to take care of?”

“You that goddamn disrespectful”—Drae was in absolute disbelief—“you bringing bitches home? You really strung the fuck out!”

“You can slow up with the bitches, homegirl.” The girl looked at Drae as if to say “now what.” “My name is Crystal and I work for him, and I damn sure wasn’t here for you. Matter fact, I didn’t even know you were here, you ain’t been here.”

“You been in my house before? On an ordinary day I would’ve kicked yo’ fuckin’ ass,” Drae snorted at the girl. “But since today is a certified nightmare I’ma let you live and suck the Satan’s dick.” She pushed Hassan away. “’Cause I’m done with this bullshit. It’s over, Hassan. I swear to God I’m done.” And she walked out the door. When she got down the stairs and into the living room, she saw the two men Hassan had waiting for her staring at each other and playing with their dicks.

A half hour later Drae was at work. She signed in and walked into her office. Doing her best to push her morning out of her mind, she closed her office door, opened her file cabinet drawer and popped four Motrin in her mouth. She had a migraine that felt like a hammer and chisel had invaded her skull. She was determined not to go back to Hassan, that today was it for their marriage. She would go home, get her belongings and leave.

She sat down at her desk and cut her computer on.

“Mrs. Shaw,” the secretary called as she knocked on the door.

“Come in, Dotty.”

“Mr. Shaw is here.” Dotty had an extra-wide grin on her face.

Hassan stepped through the door with a long white box with a red bow around it. “Happy anniversary,” he said grandly.

Dotty blushed and closed the door behind her.

Hassan turned the lock on the knob and then turned back to Drae. “Getcha shit!” He opened the box, which was filled with two garbage bags. “This is it for this motherfuckin’ job! I’m sick of this! You staying home from now on! You got other shit to do!” With one sweep he took everything off her desk and knocked it into a garbage bag, her pictures frames and ceramic flowerpots breaking as they hit the bottom of the bag against the tile floor.

“What are you doing?!” She grabbed his forearm. She tried to control herself—after all, she was at work and didn’t want to lose her job—but she was two seconds from smacking the shit out of him.

“Get the fuck offa me.” He snatched his arm away. “And get some fire under ya ass! I said let’s go.” He walked around her office, taking the artwork off the walls and shoving it into the bag. The sound of the glass breaking hurt her ears.

“Hassan, please stop,” she begged softly. “You’re embarrassing the shit outta me.”

“You gon’ be even more embarrassed when I drag yo’ ass outta here!”

When she saw him headed for the file cabinet that contained the students’ records she ran in front of him, stretched her arms out and blocked his path. “What the fuck is in here, Drae, that you don’t want me to see?!”

“It’s not mine,” she cried. “It’s the students’. Their school records.”

“You’re lying, Drae!” He pushed her out of the way and started tossing the records all over the room.

There was a knock on the door. “Mrs. Shaw, are you okay?” The principal twisted the locked knob. “Mrs. Shaw, open this door, please.”

“Principal Cox, it’s okay. I knocked some things down by accident.”

“Principal Cox?” Hassan frowned. “Nastiness just follows you everywhere you go, don’t it? Why don’t you tell Principal Dicks the truth.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the principal asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” Drae mustered a laugh. “I’m fine. Hassan,” she said diplomatically, sounding as calm as possible, “please, don’t do this here…please.”

“Sounding like a white girl ain’t gon’ cut it, Drae. You fuckin’ with my money and you think I’m gon’ let you stay here? I said get yo’ shit, bitch! And let’s go!”

Drae didn’t move.

“Oh, a’ight.” Hassan grabbed Drae by her arm and opened her office door. “I said you leaving!”

“Hassan, please,” she begged as he yanked her backward out of the room. There was a group of students passing by her as she was coming out of the office.

As one of the male students stopped to talk to her, Hassan loosened his grip. “You a’ight, Mrs. Shaw?”

“Yes, Derrick.” Drae’s heart was pounding as she looked toward the back door. “I’m fine!” She snatched away from Hassan and took off running. Immediately, Hassan fled behind her and some of the students in the group tackled him from the back, while others ran to the office, watched Drae run or screamed.

“Hurry, Mrs. Shaw, leave!” some of the kids yelled.

As Drae ran toward the back door she was halted by security. “What’s wrong?”

Drae wanted nothing more than to disappear. She heard the crowd growing behind her. She turned around and the entire first floor of the school was in an uproar. Security was everywhere, the children involved in the fight were bloody and their clothes were tattered from tackling Hassan. Within seconds Drae heard police sirens blaring. For a moment she thought she was dreaming, so she pinched herself and begged God to wake her up.

“Mrs. Shaw”—the principal rushed toward her—“what has happened here?!”

“I’m so sorry,” she cried as the principal looked at her, filled with disgust.

“This is completely unacceptable! You have placed our children in danger, and just how do you think we will be able to explain to their parents that they were injured because they were protecting you?!”

The police were standing at the other end of the hall, talking to Hassan. “Officer,” he spoke calmly, “I was surprising my wife for our anniversary and it scared her, that’s all. I was simply defending myself when the children attacked me; I think this is just one big misunderstanding. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“You still have to come with us,” one of the officers said. “The school may want to press charges.”

“I’ll go, Officer, let’s just not make this any more of a scene than it has to be.”

Drae couldn’t believe it. Was this the same man who was freebasin’ this morning, trying to make her fuck strangers again and then practically dragging her out of her office making her leave with him, now acting diplomatic, like he had sense, when he was really crazy as shit? All she could do was cry as she looked at Hassan, wondering why. Why would he do this? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

“Mrs. Shaw,” the principal said, “I need to see you in my office.”

As she walked past Hassan she wanted to slap the smug look off his face. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted, now she had no choice but to leave.

“You don’t have to fire me,” she said, when she stepped into the principal’s office. “I’ll resign.”

“We weren’t going to fire you…yet,” the principal stressed. “You’ll be suspended with pay until we have an administrative hearing to determine your career’s future.”

“I understand,” Drae conceded. She stood up to leave.

“And let me give you some advice,” she said as Drae approached the door. “I know a battered sister when I see one, ’cause I was one myself. Get out while you can.”

Drae walked out of the building feeling like a zombie. She hated the day she met Hassan, hated all the time she got on her knees at night and prayed to God to let him be the one. Hated that she set her sights on his being her husband before knowing what it would take to be his wife. She hated always looking for security in no-good men. She hated this shit, all of it, and if she wasn’t so weak and could stand the pain of dying she would slit her wrists, step to death and dare the niggah to show up.

Not knowing where else to go, Drae parked in front of Britt’s loft building to see Yuri.

“Wassup, Britt?” she said as she stood at Britt’s loft door. “Is Yuri here?”

“She stepped out for a minute, but she’ll be right back.”

“You mind if I wait?”

“Naw,” he hesitated, “not at all.”

Drae came in and looked around; she started to sit on the sofa, but changed her mind. Instead she stood by one of the large windows and looked onto the street.