Just Talk to Me (AriQui #1) Page 2

  He quickly drops eye contact, mumbling “Damn, she looks good.”

  “What was that? Who looks good?”

  “Nothing, man. Nothing,” Keith replies to Thomas's question.

  “Oh,” interjects Jonathan. “I see the problem. It's Monique.”

  “Keith, man,” Maxwell queries, not meaning to deny his friend’s state of shock, “who is that goddess walking in with her?”

  “I… who, which one are you referring to?”

  “Her,” Maxwell points as Myra enters the room, 5 feet 5, about 273 pounds, stacked and thick in all the right places. She is wearing a black and red African wrap-around dress with matching head wrap, oversized earrings and heels to accentuate the shape of her thick beautiful legs.

  “I don't know who she is, Max. I've never seen her before.”

  “So why don't you go speak to Monique and find out?”

  “Are you crazy? I am NOT going to that table!”

  “Whatever, you chicken.”

  At the club following a wonderful dinner, the ladies scan the room for those they consider to be worthy of a dance or two. Angelina spots a cutie from across the room and excuses herself to make her move. The other ladies sit at the table, sipping on their drinks, talking and enjoying the music.

  “I'll be back,” says Monique. “I need to go to the restroom.” She leaves the table.

  Soon after, a nice looking brother walks over to the table and asks Kiki to dance. Taking his hand and smiling, Kiki looks back at Myra and waving.

  Well, Myra thinks to herself, another night of dancing by myself as usual. No big, I'm so used to it now that I have a good time all by myself.

  She eyes a spot on the dance floor and proceeds to gravitate in its direction. Once on the floor, Myra does her thing, moving and grooving to the music. After dancing a few songs, she returns the table to find Monique.

  “Girl, why aren't you dancing?” she asks.

  “I'm not in the mood, I guess.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Keith being at the restaurant?” “

  “I don't know Myra. I just felt something when I saw him, something I don't know how to explain.”

  “Monique, you still love him, don't you?”

  “I don't know. I mean, I guess… Okay, yes dammit! So what do I do? After everything I put him through, why in the world would he want to bother with me a second time?”

  “Look, girl, if you still feel that way, stop being difficult and talk to the man. I am sure he is not over you either, and the both of you know you belong together. I've never seen two people be so bull-headed. He told you from the beginning of the situation he would be there for you and you just pushed him away because you just have to be an independent woman. Damn, girl, you got it good and don't even know it. Why is it when a sister gets a good one, she runs him off for a no good one?”

  “Damn, Myra.”

  “Sorry, girl. I just hate to see you miss out on your king. One of us has got to get one.” They laugh and give each other a hug.

  Just then, Kiki comes back to the table. “Dang y'all, that fine ass man and his boys just walked in.”

  “What man?” asks Monique.

  Pointing towards the door, “That fine man,” Kiki answers. Standing at the door is Maxwell, Keith, Thomas and Jonathan.

  “Well Monique, this must be your night,” Myra says glancing at Maxwell. At 6 feet 6, his 210 pounds body with less than six percent body fat. He had soft, smooth, dark double- dipped chocolate skin, was slightly bow-legged, with nice arms, chest and an obvious six-pack. He had short wavy hair and his ears were pierced.

  “Damn, he sure is fine.”

  While the ladies sat at their table sipping on martinis, and after some persuasive intervention from his boys, Keith walks up to the table.

  “Hello, ladies. Hello, Monique.”

  Looking up at Keith from the corner of her eye, Monique acknowledge, “Hi, Keith.”

  “Excuse me for being rude. I am Keith and you are?”

  “I'm Myra. Pleased to finally meet you, Keith,” she says, giving a subtle grin to Monique.

  “Monique,” Keith whispers as he extends his hand, “would you like to dance?”

  After a slight hesitation, she places her hand in his and nods. Feeling his touch, a warmth shoots through her body. She closes her eyes for a split second to reminisce. When she glances back at the table, her girls give her thumbs up. Monique squeezes Keith’s hand a little tighter. He looks down at her and smiles.

  ***

  Early in the morning, Myra is awakened by her son Immanuel.

  “Mama, Mama, you all right? Wake up!”

  Startled from her sleep and opening her eyes to see a man's face, not realizing it’s her son’s, she screams.

  “Mama,” Immanuel says, “It’s me, Mama.”

  Grabbing his mother in his arms, he rocks her as she weeps.

  “Mama, you still have those nightmares?”

  She nods her head and buries her face in her 17 year old son chest. He whispers, “I knew I should have killed him when I had the chance.

  In his office sipping on a hot cup of coffee, Maxwell is reading over his deposition when his mind drifts back to July 7, 2007.

  “The 7th month, the 7th day, of the 7th year,” he mumbles. I thought seven was supposed to be a lucky number.

  That day he was supposed to be standing in front of the church, waiting for the love of his life to walk down the aisle. Instead he found himself in a hotel room in the dark, drunk out of his mind, contemplating suicide or murder.

  He snapped back to reality at Kim’s voice over the speaker, “Mr. Anderson, there's a Jasmine here to see you.”

  ***

  Looking at herself in the mirror, thinking back over that night in Miami, Monique thought, It was like before with Keith. Just like the first time we met. He was so genuine, sweet and so sexy. She pondered for a moment, then her girlish smile turn to sadness.

  How can I be with him again? How can I tell him the real reason for my anger? How can I tell him the reason I scratched up his car and broke out his car window? If I tell him, he will never want to touch me again. How can one routine checkup turn into something so horrifying? Damn that Dr. Maxwell, I hope we take him for everything he's worth.

  On the other side of town, Keith was thinking, Wow, what a weekend we had in Miami. I still can't believe I got to hold her in my arms again. The walk on the beach was so bomb. Damn, I love that woman so much. I just can't wrap my head around the whole Jekyll and Hyde thing. One moment we are so connected, so close, and then she just flipped out on me. And for the life of me, I can't figure out what I did or said to cause it. I just want her to know that I love her.

  The phone rings and Angelina struggles to reach to find it.

  “Hello.”

  “Girl,” says a voice on the other end, “you still sleeping? It's almost noon.”

  “Who is this?” asks Angelina.

  “It’s me, Kiki.”

  “Oh, hey, girl. What's up?”

  “Well, I was going to come take you shopping but I see now that's not going to happen.”

  He wakes up, leans over and kisses her forehead. “Good morning, baby.”

  “Angelina, Angelina, who is that?”

  “What, Kiki?”

  “Girl, don't play dumb with me. You got a man over there.”

  “Yeah, girl. I'll be ready in an hour, just be here.”

  “Okay. And did I tell you Richard is paying for our day?”

  “Richard? Who is Richard?”

  “The dude from the club in Miami.” They laugh.

  “All right, I'll see you in a few.”

  Angelina turns around to the bathroom to watch this tall, six-pack, cut, chiseled, light-skinned god brushing his teeth. How do I tell my girls I've been kicking it with Jonathan again?

  ***

  “Yes, this is Myra. Is Dr. Franklin available?”

  “She is, Ms. Le'Reaux. Let me inform h
er that you are on the line.”

  “Hello, Myra, this is Dr. Franklin.”

  “Hello, Doctor. I need to come and talk with you right away. The nightmares are coming back again.

  “Okay, can you be here by 1pm today? I had a cancelation.”

  “Yes, I will see you then.”

  Hanging up the phone, Myra looks at her reflection in the mirror. Shaking her head with tears in her eyes, she tells herself It's gonna be okay. She turns, picks up the phone and dials the shop.

  “Hello, Cynthia. It's Myra. Yes, I'm okay. I won't be in till later today and I have an appointment with Donna. Can you call her and reschedule? Thanks, girl. See you later.”

  ***

  At the knock at the door, Maxwell leans back in his chair and appears to be busy.

  “Come in.”

  In walks Jasmine, 5 feet 8, with an aerobics instructor body, fair-skinned, hazel eyes and long silky hair.

  How could someone so beautiful be so evil?

  “Hello, Mad Max,” she says in a soft enticing voice.

  Not looking up from his work, Max says, “Hello, Jasmine. What do you need?”

  “Max, I was in town and thought I'd stop by and say hello. I mean, you left so quickly and didn't even speak at the club.”

  “Look, Jasmine, I didn't have anything to say then and I don't have anything to say now. So, thanks for stopping by. I need to get back to work.”

  Walking close to the desk, placing both hands on it and leaning forward to reveal her perfect cleavage, she says, “Oh come on, Max, baby, don't be like that. It's me, your Jazzy.”

  “No, Jasmine, you’re Anthony's girl, wife, whatever. Why are you here and where is your husband?”

  “I told you, I came to see you. Anthony is out of town for the weekend.”

  Looking up from his work, he connects with her eyes. Damn, he thought, she is so beautiful. No, Max, remember the pain.

  Jasmine walks around the desk and reaches to rub his shoulders. Maxwell jumps out of his seat.

  “Ooh wee,” says Jasmine, “still the same sexy man I fell in love with.”

  “You mean out of love with, right?

  “Okay, I deserve that, but you know you still want me,” she says, walking into his personal space.

  ***

  Answering her cell phone, Angelina says, “Hello. Hey, Kiki, I'm on my way down. Jonathan, I’m leaving, I'll be back soon.”

  “Wait, baby, let me walk you down.”

  “No, baby, please.”

  “Angelina, why don't you want anyone to know we are spending time together?”

  “Come on, John. You know why; you know the history. I'm just not ready yet. Baby, please.”

  “Okay, Ange, okay.” He kisses her on the lips. “Have fun.”

  Angelina walks out the door, looking for Kiki’s car but sees a limo instead. She smiles and shakes her head.

  “Girl,” she says as the chauffeur opens the door, “what did you have to put out to… Never mind, I don't even want to know.” The door closes and they head off for a day of shopping and fun.

  ***

  “Hello, Myra, come in and have a seat,” says Dr. Franklin. “So, on the phone you said that the nightmares are returning. Which ones?”

  “Just the last few that I had.”

  “Do you feel comfortable talking through it, Myra?”

  “Yes, Doctor. The dream starts out with me making a phone call to Daryl to come over so we can talk about our relationship. He comes over, we eat, and then the drama starts. The conversation begins with me just explaining to him that it seems that things between us are not going in a positive direction. That I can tell by his actions he is no longer satisfied with what we have, and that he doesn't have to stay with me just for the sake of staying. That I want him to be free to live his life as he wishes, without being tied down when he clearly doesn't want to be. I let him know I will miss him but his happiness and, shoot, my own is important to me.

  “And then, without warning, he slaps me so hard across my face that I fly out of my chair and hit my head on the wall. As I struggle to stand to my feet, he grabs me by the throat and slams me on the glass coffee table, which shatters on impact. Leaning over me, he calls me all kinds of bitches and whores, telling me if he can't have me, no man will ever want me. He punches my face repeatedly with his fist. Blood splatters. He picks up a piece of broken glass and begins to slice at my chest and stomach.” Pausing to take a deep breath as tears roll down her face, Myra clenches Dr. Franklin's hand.

  “Myra, do you want to continue?” ask Dr. Franklin.

  She nods and begins again. “He then forces my legs open and jams his fist inside me. I scream in pain as he tells me to shut up or he will kill me. The next thing I’m, waking up in the hospital days later, hearing my son tell an investigator how he came home to find me in a pool of my own blood.”

  ***

  Reaching for his office door, Maxwell finds himself trapped between the wall and the unsettling invasion of Jasmine's lips pressed against his.

  Pushing her away and wiping his mouth, he says, “What the hell is wrong with you, Jasmine?”

  Opening the door he guides her out the door with his hands. “You need to leave and you need to leave now.”

  Glancing back at him with a glare in her eyes, she says, “Okay, Mad Max. I will go but this is not the last time I will see you. Just remember this, boo boo. I may have lost you but no one else will ever be able to fully have you because you are still in love with me.”

  “You are crazy. I can't believe you think I'm still in love with you. Despise you, feel sorry for you. But love you? Sweetheart, you got me completely confused with some guy who gives a damn. Jasmine, do not ever come to my job again! Leave me the hell alone. Oh, and tell my brother I said hello and that he should keep his dog on the leash,” as he slams the door.

  ***

  “So girly, where do you want to stop first?”

  “What?”

  “And why you looking at me like that?”

  “Come on, Kiki. What are you doing? This is getting out of hand.”

  “Angelina, what are you talking about? I'm just a single girl out here enjoying herself. If I was a dude, everyone would be calling me the man. Because I'm a chick, I have to be a hoe or worse. Is that what you're saying?”

  “No, Kiki. I'm worried about you. Why are you doing this? This is not you and you know it. Ever since your incident with Cameron, you have just been reckless. Reckless with your heart, with your emotions, and your body. And don't tell me you didn't have to put out to get all this.”

  “Ange, can we not do this right now and just enjoy the moment? Please.”

  “All right, KiKi, but this conversation isn’t over.”

  As they look out their windows, Kiki flashes back in her mind to the moment she first met Cameron Phillips.

  Cameron Jermaine Phillips II, with his fine behind, a tall, light-skinned, big, solid, heavyset brother with long eyelashes. And them damn eyes! When the sun hit them, it looked like speckles of gold had dropped in his eyes; and talk about smelling good.

  Ooh wee Jesus, anything that man wore just did something to me. We first met over the telephone, we had a cool conversation. I remember him saying it was late and he needed sleep cause he had to be up early to go to work. I really didn't want the conversation to stop so, before I knew what was coming out of my mouth, I told him he should come by. I didn't think he'd really come but he called my bluff. The next thing I knew he was knocking on my door. We talked, we cuddled, it was so amazing. The next week at work, I was minding my business, doing what I do when someone walked up behind me, touched me in the small of my back, and said “Hello, gorgeous.”

  I stopped, froze and slowly turn my head to the left. It was Cameron, he just stopped by to say hi. From that moment on, it was like a whirlwind romance. He was at my house every night for dinner, hanging out with me, watching movies, kicking back, laughing, just having a good time. Before I knew it,
he had the key to my apartment. Then the next thing I knew, we were pretty much living together. Things were going so well. I used to love how we would sit in his Durango, listening to music and talking for hours.

  I wanted to do something special for his birthday so I created what I call a 12 days of birthdays. Basically every day, for 12 days up until his birthday, which is the 12th of this month, I would make sure he got a special gift and a special note. I went so far as to plan a boys’ night out for a surprise by contacting all his friends.

  Everything was so well planned. And then something changed. All of a sudden he didn’t come over as much or call as much. I thought, “ He’s tired. He works a really tough job and probably just needed to rest”, which was no problem. I really didn't trip. And then, as they say, the shit the fan.

  We had just got off the phone. He was sharing about the things that made me so beautiful and attractive to him: how strong I was, a motivating force I was in his life and things like that. About an hour later, I get a text from my girl, telling me to call her. I called her and she dropped the bomb on me that he's cheating on me. I asked, “How would you know?

  She said, “Because I'm looking him right in his face!” Wow, talk about devastated! Talk about hurt, destroyed, confused. How many emotions were running through me at that moment?

  So, I leave the event I’m at, get home and all I wanna do is find some way to hurt him, call somebody to hurt him. But all I could hear was the voice of my pastor preaching about grace and forgiveness. Who'd a thought my life would be the example of that Sunday’s sermon?

  So I did the only thing I knew how to do at that moment; I just prayed.

  After a few days of crying my eyes out and having a hard time, I got myself together, picked up the phone and called Cameron. I told him he needed to come get his stuff and bring me back my keys. Of course, he tried everything he possibly could to get out of having to see me face to face. He even said to leave his stuff outside the door and he would just slide the keys under the door and we'd be good. I told him, “If you were man enough to do what you did, you should be man enough to look me in my face”.