Up to No Good (34 page)

In light of this new family dilemma, I realized that I needed to move on with my life minus Keisha. Oh, I still loved her; I probably always would, but life was too short to be obsessing over a woman who didn’t respect herself, let alone me. So this was it. I was through
with Keisha’s ass. I would spend my energy helping my dad fight this cancer, and maybe when I least expected it, I ’d find Ms. Right.

“Yeah, I’m going to leave Keisha alone,” I said out loud as if to affirm my new decision. “She can do whatever she wants with Tom, Dick, and Harry. Makes no difference to me.”

I parked my car and started my usual daily routine. First, I ’d go to Dunkin’ Donuts and get a large coffee and a chocolate donut; then I ’d stop by the newsstand and pick up a copy of
The New York Times
. After that, I ’d head to the office building and take the elevator up to the twenty-first floor. I ’d greet everyone I passed until I was in my office, settled in my chair behind my desk.

Today, the last part of my plan was going to be a bit different. When I got to the twenty-first floor, I was going straight to my boss’s office to give him my two weeks notice so I could help my dad’s company while he was battling lung cancer. I headed to the front of the office building ready to visit my boss, but I came upon an unexpected detour.

Outside the front doors, I noticed a couple wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing passionately, as if there weren’t hundreds of office workers rushing past them on their way to work. I shook my head, thinking that these two definitely needed to get a room. I wouldn’t have paid it any more attention, but as I got closer, I noticed there was something familiar about the woman. She actually reminded me of Keisha from the side. I was just about to dismiss the thought, because every woman seemed to remind me of Keisha in some way, when the woman turned around.

“Hey, Darnel.”

Turns out it was Keisha! And she had a huge smile on her face when she greeted me. I can’t begin to tell
you how pissed off I was that she would bring some dude to my job when all my coworkers knew her and knew about what had happened at our wedding. She was obviously doing this just to torment me. But I was determined not to let her set me off. There was no better time than the present to show her that I really didn’t give a damn about her anymore. I stared straight ahead, refusing to even acknowledge her presence.

“I just wanted you to meet my new man,” Keisha said in a syrupy voice.

Calm down, Darnel. These two aren’t worth the trouble
, I thought as I stepped toward the door. I reached for the door handle. That’s when the dude she was with stepped in front of the door.

“Going somewhere, Dee?” I didn’t have to see his face to recognize that voice.

“Get out my way, Omar. Only reason you acting this way is because Keisha’s here.” I tried to step past him, but he blocked my way again.

“Nah, talk that shit now. I’m not on crutches and my back ain’t turned like it was that night. So talk that shit now, punk.”

We were standing eye to eye. I tried to stay cool, but the thought of the two of them together made me snap. I couldn’t help it. I took a swing. If it was any other guy in front of me, I think I could have kept my temper under control, but not with Omar standing in front of me. I hated him too much.

I missed but, unfortunately, Omar didn’t. I wasn’t sure what he hit me with, but it was hard, and I hit the pavement like a brick.

“You snuck up on me from behind before, but try something now.” Omar stood over me, looking all tough. “I told you this motherfucker wasn’t shit. I don’t even know what you saw in him.”

“Neither do I, baby.” Keisha leaned over and kissed his neck.

“You the one ain’t shit, Omar. No real man would do this to one of his boys. Man, you ain’t nothin’ b—” I noticed a coppery taste in my mouth. I reached my hand to my lip and saw blood on my fingers.

“Did you think ’cause you some spoiled-ass bitch who ain’t never had to work a hard day in your life that you the shit?” Omar sneered.

“Oh, that’s what this is all about? You jealous ’cause my family gives a shit about me? What about all the things we did for you? My father practically made you part of our family, and this is how you do?”

“Your family don’t give a damn about me.”

“Not anymore they don’t. Not after you stabbed me in the back for this whore.”

He hit me again in the face. I swear his fist felt like a piece of steel. “If you ever call my girl a whore again, I’ll kill you.” He gave me another hard punch in the jaw.

“Omar, stop.” Keisha grabbed his hand, but Omar stood his ground, still yelling at me as I wiped the blood off my face.

“What? You think I give a damn what you think? You the pussy who can’t handle your business. I ain’t got no problem with mine.” He cupped his package and thrust his hips in Keisha’s direction.

By this time, a few of my coworkers had come on the scene and were standing by, probably afraid of getting hit if they got too close. This just pissed me off even more, the fact that now there were witnesses to my humiliation. I was always Mr. GQ Professional at work, and now these fools had come up here, getting all ghetto for everyone to see. I thought I ’d been mortified at my wedding, but this was just as bad. If I hadn’t
already been planning to resign, I surely would have lost my job over some shit like this.

Keisha, who just a minute ago had been trying to get Omar to leave, suddenly seemed happy to have an audience to witness my shame.

“Yeah, that’s my man there,” she announced, flaunting a small ring on her left ring finger. “Now, what you gotta say to that? And he’ll whoop your ass even worse if you ever try to mess with me again.”

So now they were engaged, I thought. Omar had always been in love with her, and I guess she had finally given in and said yes. I didn’t want it to bother me; I wanted to be able to say she was a worthless whore and he could have her, but it still hurt like hell that my former best friend was with the woman who was supposed to be my wife.

I charged at Omar, but he clocked me with something. I saw a flash of gold and realized what it was: He was wearing brass knuckles! I landed hard on the sidewalk.

When I looked up, I saw Jason, the security guard who worked in our building, coming toward me. “Mr. Black, whoever this man is—and I use that term loosely—he’s not worth it. Don’t let him make you lose your job,” he said as he helped me off the ground.

He then turned to Omar. “Young man, I suggest you get off the premises before I call the police.”

I watched Keisha and Omar walk away as I caught my breath and spit blood onto the sidewalk.

“Mr. Black, do you want me to call the authorities?” Jason asked, looking relieved that things hadn’t gotten physical between him and Omar. Jason was one of those overweight security guards who was posted in the lobby more for show than for safety. Omar would have whipped his ass for sure.

I shook my head. “No, don’t call anyone. Just help me inside so I can clean up this blood.” I almost didn’t recognize my own voice. It sounded empty and dead—just like I felt inside.

The small crowd dispersed, no doubt headed to their offices to stand around the watercoolers and describe the fight they’d just seen. Jason helped me into the men’s room in the lobby.

I stared at my bloody reflection in the mirror and wondered how my life had turned into this nightmare. But I considered the question with an odd sort of detachment, like I was watching this happen to me from another place. Inside of me, there was no more pain, no more jealousy, and no more love. In its place was an empty pit, waiting to be filled. I stared at my face and almost didn’t recognize myself. My eyes looked lifeless.

As I examined my injuries, I began to feel something new taking root inside of me. It was like a fire smoldering in the center of my being, and I knew it was only a matter of time before that spark became a raging inferno. Now I knew what pure hatred was.

“Hey, honey.” Sandra came into my study wearing a tight-fitting Victoria’s Secret nightgown. She was beautiful, but her eyes looked sad. It had been a hard day for all of us.

Darnel had been beaten up pretty badly by a brass knuckles–wielding Omar. They called me from his office to tell me what had happened, and although Darnel said he was fine, I insisted that he go to the hospital to be checked out. He ended up being okay, just a minor concussion along with some scrapes and bruises. His ego was hurt more seriously than his body—so much so that he didn’t even want to pursue charges against Omar. I think he felt totally defeated, and I felt powerless to change that. I left him at his apartment, making him promise to call me if he changed his mind about contacting the authorities.

On top of that, Jamie had delivered some news of her own that had me worrying about both of my kids. She had rushed over from the office with me to meet Darnel at the hospital. On the way, she confided in me the true story behind Louis, the blonde, and the Witness Protection Program. She also told me that Louis
had proposed. If it weren’t for my cancer diagnosis, she would have seriously contemplated it.

I told her she should go with Louis, because these people in Detroit might already be on to her. If they thought she could lead them to Louis, she might be in danger. The last thing I wanted was for something to happen to my baby, and at least I’d know she was safe if she was in witness protection with Louis. But true to her stubborn nature, she insisted that she wasn’t going anywhere until my cancer was gone. She felt certain that none of the people who were after Louis knew who she was. I wanted to talk to the blond agent myself to be sure, but Jamie wouldn’t even tell me where Louis was. She said she didn’t want me worrying when I was sick—like I could do anything but worry at this point. I have to be honest; it all seemed like a nightmare.

Once we got back from the hospital, Jamie, Darnel, and I had gone out to dinner together. We went to a local barbecue joint, hoping the loud music and cheerful crowd would distract us. And it had. By the time we came back to my house, we were all managing to tell a few jokes and laugh a little. But when we pulled up in front of the house and saw Sandra’s car parked there, Jamie’s mood changed instantly.

“Looks like Miss Thing finally decided to come home. Guess she reached the limit on your credit cards.”

“Jamie, honey, please don’t. These past few weeks have been very hard on all of us, but it doesn’t give you the right to take out your frustration on Sandra.”

“My anger at her has nothing to do with any of that, Daddy. She pissed me off long before I knew you had cancer.”

I sighed, knowing this conversation was going
nowhere. “That may be the case, but tonight, I really just need you to give it a rest.”

Darnel stepped in to help. “Hey, Jamie, why don’t you come back to my place tonight? We haven’t hung out in a long time, and I think maybe Dad needs some privacy tonight anyway.”

“I think that’s a very good idea,” I said before Jamie had a chance to complain.

“Fine,” Jamie said, sounding annoyed. “But I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning to make you breakfast. You have to eat to keep up your strength, you know.”

I chuckled. “I know, princess. And I appreciate you wanting to take care of me.”

I kissed her good night and said good-bye to Darnel, then headed inside.

Sandra greeted me at the door, and just having her arms around me was a comfort. Then she led me straight to the bedroom, and I felt all the day’s tension leave my body as she caressed every inch of me before we made love. Now this, I thought, was just what the doctor ordered.

Later, while she slept, I headed into my study. I ’d been lying in bed, thinking about what would happen if the treatments didn’t stop the cancer. I couldn’t fall asleep, so instead of tossing and turning, I decided to go put some of my papers in order so that things would be easier on my kids in the event that I didn’t get better. I was sitting at my desk with bank statements and retirement account information spread all around me when Sandra came in and sat on my lap.

Her eyes rested on the papers. I tried to put them back in the folder so she wouldn’t ask what I was doing. I didn’t want to tell her that I was preparing for the possibility of death. I ’d already promised myself I
would be nothing but hopeful in front of her and my kids. She didn’t say anything, but I had a feeling she had already guessed what was on my mind.

“You okay?” I asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from what she’d just seen.

“Yeah, I just was thinking.” I offered my lips, but she kissed me on the forehead.

“About?”

“I’m scared, James. I’m scared for you, and I’m scared for me.”

“It’s going to be all right. I’m going to beat this thing,” I said for what felt like the millionth time. If I said it often enough, I hoped it would come true. Apparently Sandra wasn’t as optimistic.

“Are you, James? How can we be sure? The doctor said you have a good chance of survival, but he didn’t say it was a hundred percent.” She handed me a piece of paper that I hadn’t noticed she was carrying when she came in. “Here, read this.”

I glanced at it. “What’s this?”

“Statistics from the American Cancer Society. It says that one out of every five people with stage one lung cancer dies even when it’s found early and treated.”

I studied Sandra for a moment. I wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to say. I could understand feeling fearful, but there seemed to be something else lying beneath her words, like she was refusing hope. Then a thought came to mind: Was she about to tell me she was leaving because she couldn’t handle it?

“Sandra, I don’t care what these statistics say. I’m gonna make it.
We’ re
going to make it.”

“Are we, James? ’Cause I was planning an elaborate wedding. Are you going to be here for it? Are you going to be able to walk down that aisle with me?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Sandra and I had never discussed marriage, yet here she was telling me she had already thought about the details of our wedding. Now I was even more confused. Was she telling me she was leaving, or was she trying to tell me just how deeply she loved me?