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  “I’d like to know how he gonna protect somebody, walking around with a damn bracelet around his ankle?” Saleema burst out laughing and Terelle, despite herself, laughed, too. “How far can he go with that thing keepin’ check on his movements? If a nigga dragged you outta the front door, what Marquise gonna do? Huh?”

  Terelle shrugged, looking amused. “I guess he gonna have to chase a nigga down.”

  “Won’t that black box start squealing if he tries to leave this apartment?”

  “Girl, I don’t know. I think a red light will come on if he goes out of range. But under special circumstances, like him having to defend me, I’m sure he won’t get in any trouble.”

  “Please! Who you think is gonna believe he left the apartment to defend your honor? They’ll lock that ass up so quick…” Saleema paused in thought and didn’t finish the sentence. “Then, they’ll turn around and make him serve the rest of his back time.”

  “Damn, Saleema.” Terelle was no longer feeling amused. “How we go from my fear of guns to you disrespecting Marquise for the second time since you been here?”

  “My bad,” Saleema said with a snicker. “Seriously. I’m sorry.” Saleema kissed Terelle’s cheek.

  “I gotta go. Dave keeps a thick wad in his pocket.” She gestured the thickness by stretching her thumb and index finger. “Cash, credit cards…the whole nine. And I don’t want him to even think about peeling off one dollar before I get there.” Saleema pulled out her car keys and a narrow bank envelope. “Here, here’s a little something to put on that phone bill.”

  “Saleema, you don’t have to…”

  “Hush, girl. Just like you said…we go back to elementary school and I know your proud ass like I know the back of my hand. You’d go hungry before you’d ask anybody to help you.”

  Instead of responding, Terelle looked down at the kitchen tiles.

  “By the way, when did they say Marquise can come home?”

  “Any day. That’s all they’ve been telling me. They’re waiting for a monitor to free up. Those damn people got my life on hold—for real.”

  “Don’t worry. Quise will be home raising hell before you know it. Give me a call tomorrow, okay?”

  Nodding, Terelle opened the door for her friend. “Thanks, Saleema,” Terelle’s voice cracked. “I mean it. Thanks.” Her body sagged, giving her a world-weary appearance.

  Saleema kissed at the air. “Smooches. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Terelle said in a whisper and closed the door. She treaded to the living room, placed the unopened envelope on the coffee table and flopped down on the futon.

  She tried to choke back the tears, but couldn’t. Saleema was so good to her, but she was so tired of being a charity case. She ached for Marquise—for his support—his strong shoulders to lean on. Tears spilled over as she curled up on the futon to wait for Marquise’s call.

  Chapter Eight

  Her cell phone rang during her workout at the gym. Drenched in perspiration, she dismounted the stair climber, threw a towel around her neck and went to a quiet corner near the entrance where reception would be better.

  “Have you lost your mind completely?” Kenneth boomed.

  “Is something wrong, Kenneth?” Kai asked innocently, as she rubbed the towel over her damp hair.

  “I should have never gotten involved with you. You’re beyond unstable but so beautifully packaged, who would have guessed you’re psychotic?”

  “Would you mind telling me what you’re talking about?”

  “Don’t feign innocence, Kai. It’s beneath you and extremely insulting to me. That little stunt of yours didn’t work. My wife never opened that damn package. I did!”

  Kai felt instantly deflated.

  “And you can rest assured that I won’t give you another opportunity to wreak havoc upon my home life. We’re finished, Kai. Do you hear me? Finished!”

  “Kenneth, I don’t know what…”

  “Stop it, Kai. Please. You’re a dangerous, deranged young woman,” he said slowly. “You’re in desperate need of professional help and I swear I’ll press charges if you ever harass…”

  “You’ll press charges, will you?” she exclaimed in a voice so loud it surprised her. “Did it ever occur to you that I could file sexual harassment charges against you, Dr. Harding?” Her voice was now a soft whisper. “The last time I checked, you’re the one in a position of authority at the nursing home; I’m just a lowly social worker, so tell me who would be judged as being in the best position to harass whom?”

  “If you feel you were harassed, then by all means, sue me. Your claims won’t stand up in a court of law. We started our personal relationship long before you began employment at the nursing home. So be my guest; initiate litigation and see how quickly your case is dismissed.”

  Kai grinned at the telephone. “You can use that reverse psychology on one of the little nursing dimwits who think so highly of you. I’m definitely going to file charges and Kenneth, darling—I’m definitely going to win. And throughout the procedure, I’m going to have a grand old time exposing your sexual deviancy in front of your wife and colleagues,” Kai taunted.

  Dr. Harding snorted. “Your threats bore me almost as much as you do.”

  Kai winced.

  “Grow up, Kai; stop this juvenile behavior. It’s so unbecoming. And I reiterate—get yourself some help, kiddo.”

  “Kiddo!” Kai spat, deeply offended. “Is my behavior as unbecoming as your behavior when I have to put up with your futile efforts in keeping your limp dick from slipping out of my pussy?” Kai’s voice grew louder. “You want me to grow up? Why don’t you try growing a dick that can stay hard? And I strongly recommend that you get yourself some goddamn help for your chronic erectile dysfunction.” She was so angry, screaming and sputtering, she was barely coherent. “I should sue you for being such an abominably bad fuck.” Then in a calm tone, she added, “See you in court, Doc.” She clicked off the cell phone.

  But, despite her haughty tone and below-the-belt jabs, Kai was shaken. She’d gone too far this time. Said things she couldn’t take back. Kenneth did have erection problems, but not all the time. Why did she stoop to attacking his manhood? She didn’t want to lose Kenneth. She loved him—well at least needed him. Acceptance and validation by the wealthy, prominent, blue-eyed, and blond-haired Dr. Harding was very necessary to her self-esteem as well as reinforcing her connection to her Caucasian heritage.

  She just wanted to teach him a lesson—show him how much his dishonesty and lack of attention upset her. She’d never dreamed he’d actually end the relationship.

  Why would he be interested in keeping that wilting and matronly wife of his when he could have her? She’d seen his wife; the woman’s beauty and figure (if she’d ever possessed such attributes) had obviously dissipated years ago. The old girl had seen better days and was now falling apart. And neither makeup nor a trillion visits to the hair salon was going to change her frumpy image. It was absolutely ludicrous for Kenneth to even want to remain attached to his dowdy wife.

  Despite the discouraging developments, she knew one thing with certainty: she wouldn’t think of allowing Kenneth to dump her over a silly little photograph or a few thoughtless words. She’d invested entirely too much time to just roll over and bow out gracefully for the sake of his stupid marriage. No, she was not giving up Dr. Kenneth Harding.

  She’d think of some clever maneuver that would immediately rectify this disastrous situation.

  Her mind drifted back to that night—a night of unusually good sex with Dr. Kenneth Harding. Kenneth’s typical post-sexual behavior was to hold and cuddle with Kai for a few obligatory moments and then dash to the shower, dress and leave. But that night, he’d fallen asleep. As he slept, she had photographed herself nude beneath his lab coat.

  She had intended to surprise him with the photo—a sexy keepsake for his eyes only. But, he’d slept so deeply, Kai couldn’t resist the opportunity of snooping in hi
s archaic daily planner and then jotting down pertinent information. For the life of her, she didn’t know why he hadn’t upgraded to a Palm Pilot. If she’d had a copy machine handy, she’d have photocopied his itinerary for the entire year. Funny, there was no mention of his Caribbean vacation—that week had been left blank. Didn’t matter. That was the past. She knew exactly where he’d be tonight.

  Bursting with excitement at the thought of getting the elusive Dr. Kenneth Harding back in her bed where he belonged, Kai cruised into the Old City section of Philadelphia and pulled into a parking lot on the corner of Third and Market Streets. Before exiting her Benz, she sat with her thighs squeezed together as she waited for the internal sexual throbbing to subside.

  Two Haitian parking attendants smiled widely. “My eyes are having a feast,” said one of the men in a voice loud enough for Kai to hear.

  Kai interpreted his words, intended to compliment, as disrespectful. The whites of the man’s eyes were discolored, rather yellowish, and she was offended that eyes such as his were feasting upon her. Her tight lips spread into a disgusted smirk as she tossed her car keys to him.

  “A beautiful woman steps out of such a fine-looking automobile,” the man continued, unaware that he had repelled her. “I must be in heaven.” Both men chuckled good-naturedly, expecting a smile or some type of acknowledgment from Kai. She wanted to slap the insipid smiles off their primitive faces.

  Remembering she had no time for justifiable violence, Kai haughtily flipped her hair from the back of her coat, and strode past the disappointed attendants. The slender heels of her black calfskin shoe boots clicked purposefully across the asphalt parking lot.

  “Dinner?” the hostess of the upscale restaurant asked.

  “No, I’d like to sit at the bar.” Kai walked across the room and perched atop a barstool. Music played softly in the background. She ordered an Apple Martini and impatiently watched the door.

  Working Dinner at 8—Cuba Libre Restaurant, Old City was what she had copied from his daily planner. She wondered with whom he had planned to dine? Some pharmaceutical salesperson? His accountant? It didn’t matter; Kai was prepared to display her anguish publicly. She’d shed buckets of tears, fall into his arms, cling to him and beg his forgiveness—she’d do whatever was necessary to get Kenneth to forego his dinner plans and leave the restaurant with her. They could pick up something to eat on the way back to her apartment.

  And once she had him inside her boudoir, she would dig deeply into her ample bag of sex tricks so that Kenneth would be left with no choice but to forgive and forget. This was an excellent plan, Kai decided, with the element of surprise on her side. It was a brilliant plan, in fact—though it hadn’t been her first choice. She would have preferred having an opportunity to appease his anger over the phone, but he hadn’t returned any of her calls. Pity. Kenneth detested public scenes and would go to any lengths to avoid drawing adverse attention.

  Well, he was about to get a doozie of a scene. As soon as her theatrics commenced, he’d whisk her out of there and then she’d have him in her clutches—in private. Then he’d be nothing more than putty in her hands.

  Kai had just turned the glass of the second Apple Martini up to her lips when she heard Kenneth’s baritone voice: “Dinner for two.” She whirled around so quickly, the green-colored drink splattered down the front of her white chiffon blouse.

  “Oh, Kenneth!” Kai shrieked. She leapt from the barstool, knocking her coat onto the floor. As she bent awkwardly to retrieve it, she twisted her ankle, slid into a semi-split and broke the heel of her left boot.

  Gazing up helplessly at the handsome, distinguished, blond-haired and blue-eyed Dr. Harding, whose normally pale skin now glowed with a recent healthy tan, she realized that his dining companion was a black woman—a regal statuesque woman with her natural hair in twists. She had flawless dark skin that resembled black satin. Adorned with ethnic attire and jewelry, the woman who was older than Kai, but much younger than Dr. Harding’s wife, held his arm possessively.

  Kai wondered if her involvement with Kenneth had uncovered some hidden yearning for women of a darker persuasion? Was that how he had perceived her—not as an equal, but as an exotic mulatto—someone to dally with behind closed doors?

  Though distracted by the presence of this majestic and mysterious woman who obviously knew Kenneth intimately, Kai refused to change her game plan.

  Unceremoniously, Kai picked herself up and dragging the broken heel, advanced with outstretched arms, limping and whimpering his name. A far cry from the dignified young lady who’d entered the restaurant, Kai was now rumpled and unkempt. The hostess looked at her in horror. Dr. Harding’s date shrank back in fear and bewilderment, while Dr. Harding appeared frantic as if prepared to bolt for the door.

  “I’m so sorry, Kenneth,” she sobbed, clutching the lapel of his coat and then resting her head on his chest. Dr. Harding stiffened, shot his date an uneasy smile, and cleared his throat. “Kai, this is not the time or place,” he said, removing Kai’s resistant hands.

  “It’s never the right time! You go off on vacation with your wife and now you’re back in Philly and you don’t even have the decency to return my calls?” Kai reached for him again, expecting to be comforted.

  Dr. Harding backed away from her grasping tentacles. “You’re creating a scene. Please leave; we can discuss this tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” Kai screamed.

  The buzzing conversations of patrons seated at the nearby bar ceased.

  “Perhaps I should leave, Kenneth,” his companion suggested. “Can you call me a cab?” she asked the hostess.

  “No. We’ll leave together.” He took his frazzled date’s arm and turned her toward the door. Looking back, he apologized to the hostess.

  Hot on their heels, Kai exited the restaurant also. “What’s the matter, Kenneth? Am I too fair-skinned for you now?” She heckled. Despite the broken heel, she hobbled closely behind the couple determined to keep pace.

  “Huh? What’s the problem, Dr. Harding? Does she suck your dick better than I do?”

  Dr. Harding waved his hand, anxiously beckoning the parking lot attendant to hurry and get his car.

  “Let me tell you something, Ms. Nubia,” Kai continued, “you’re going to have to suck that little pencil for damn near an hour before it comes to life.”

  The woman gasped, but Kai was relentless. “And after all that sucking, I can guarantee you the little bugger is going to deflate the second it touches your nappy pussy.”

  Dr. Harding race-walked his appalled companion toward his Jaguar and away from Kai’s scorching words.

  “Are you prepared for the worst sex of your life?” Kai screamed as she stumbled up to the Jag and banged on the passenger-side window.

  Dr. Harding started the ignition; Kai did a hasty shuffle to his side of the car and pulled frantically on the door. It was locked.

  The Haitian attendant, who only an half-hour earlier had been snubbed by Kai, pulled her away, using the soothing tone one would use if trying to calm a dangerously insane person. “Miss, please, let go of the door. You’re going to hurt yourself.” He managed to pry her fingers from the door handle as Dr. Harding screeched away.

  “Take your grimy hands off me.” Kai yanked away from the attendant, turning her fury on him. “Where’s my fucking car? Go get it…and it better not have one scratch on it. Do you hear me? Not one scratch, goddamit.”

  “Yes, Miss. I’ll get your car, but do you think you’re able to drive safely?”

  “Fuck off; who asked for your concern! Just get my car and mind your damn business.”

  Kai bent down and ripped the broken heel off her boot. She flung it across the lot, aiming at the head of the retreating attendant.

  Chapter Nine

  No frantic last-minute arrangements had to be made with her employer, for a stroke of luck had sent Marquise, accompanied by two county marshals, to Terelle’s front door on her day off.

  She
screamed in delight when Marquise stepped inside the apartment. He nodded his head in approval at the sight of her, his full lips spreading into a smile, beautiful white teeth gleaming. Long braids, much longer than when he’d left, hung beneath a black scull cap. He had on a new pair of Timberlands, but he was wearing the same sweat pants and hoodie he’d worn on the day he’d gotten locked up—two years ago. She forced the thought of that awful day from her mind and flashed her gorgeous man a big welcoming smile.

  “Pull up your pant leg, man.” The taller marshal barked the order. Judging by his expression, he was pleased to break up the exchange of loving smiles. He then slapped on the ankle bracelet that would track Marquise’s movements. The shorter of the two men hooked up the black monitor to the phone in the kitchen.

  “Did you remove all the features from your phone, ma’am?” the shorter man inquired authoritatively.

  Terelle nodded.

  “No answering machine, no call-waiting…”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Are you on the Internet, ma’am? If so, you’re going to have to disconnect it.”

  “No, I don’t have a computer.”

  “Okay, well…the red light will flash if you’re out of range,” the marshal said to Marquise. “And you’re out of range if you step outside this apartment. You can’t even stick your foot out the door.”

  “I gotchu, man. I gotchu.” Marquise was getting annoyed. Terelle stood next to him rubbing his arm soothingly. “But what about when I have to go see my P.O.?”

  “That visit will be documented; however, the red light will be on until you return to this apartment. If you haven’t returned in the allotted time frame, a warrant for your arrest will be issued.”

  Those words made Terelle shudder. Marquise placed his arm around her protectively. She covered the hand that was draped over her shoulder with kisses. The two marshals cast disapproving glances at Terelle’s show of affection.