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  Marquise groped beneath her top. Both marshals sighed loudly before slamming out the door. Marquise and Terelle erupted in laughter.

  “Baby girl, baby girl! Look at you,” Marquise said, turning Terelle in a complete circle, checking her out from top to bottom. She had on a velour low-waisted sweat suit that hugged her buttocks. He couldn’t keep his hands off that area. Kissing her passionately, he walked her backwards to the futon. They collapsed upon it.

  “Wait a minute, Marquise.” Terelle gently nudged him.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “I’ve been dreaming of this day for two years. We gotta do this right. This futon is too small; let’s get in the bed.” She guided him to the small bedroom and began to unzip her velour jacket.

  Marquise sat on the creaking bed and started pulling off his boots. When he looked up, Terelle had removed her clothing and stood naked before him. Her big dark chocolate breasts were pointed in his face. He feasted upon them, moaning her name. Panting, she pulled away and began tugging at the waistband of his sweat pants.

  They stayed in the bedroom for three hours straight. The bedroom and the entire apartment reeked of sex. Luckily, Markeeta, away at day care for most of the day, was spared from inhaling the scent of their passion. Terelle couldn’t remember ever being as happy as she was on this day.

  Her dream had come true: Marquise was home at last. Markeeta had her daddy. She had her man.

  He’d grown up in prison—matured. The things he used to do, he was no longer interested in doing. He promised: no more running the streets; no jump-off chicks on the side; no more hustling; no more hugging the block all day and until the wee hours of the morning. The drug game couldn’t be won. He realized that now. He was going to work a straight job. Be a family man.

  After two weeks Marquise and Terelle were still behaving like honeymooners. Terelle had expected the physical need she and Marquise had for each other to diminish after a few days of practically nonstop lovemaking. But their desire had grown stronger.

  Marquise got up with her every morning to help get Markeeta ready for day care. Having his assistance in the morning was a godsend.

  He fixed breakfast, packed Terelle’s lunch, and even ironed Terelle’s work uniform when necessary. And between these chores, he hugged and kissed Terelle, telling her over and over how much he loved her, all the while begging to make love one more time. Having to tear herself away from him to go to work seemed so unfair. And today was particularly hard; they had overslept and missed their morning quickie. The ache of telling him goodbye was powerful—almost physical. Markeeta, on the other hand, was none too pleased with the new family member. She was accustomed to having her mother all to herself and showed her displeasure by refusing to accept her father’s affection. She wouldn’t let Marquise kiss her or even pick her up without screaming and reaching for her mother. Marquise was visibly hurt by his daughter’s rejection.

  “It’s your mustache and beard.” Terelle smoothed his beard with her fingers. “I think it scares her; she’s not used to you yet.”

  “She didn’t act this way when y’all usta visit me at the joint. Now she sees me every day, but she acts like I’m a stranger.”

  “Give it some time, Marquise. She’ll come around.” Terelle stroked Marquise’s beard. He bear-hugged her, lifting her off the floor as he nuzzled her neck, tickling her. “Put me down.” Terelle giggled. “You wrinkling up my uniform.”

  Feeling left out, Markeeta reached for Marquise. Holding Terelle with one hand, Marquise scooped up Markeeta with his other. He kissed Terelle on the lips and then turned to his daughter. To her parents’ amazement, Markeeta offered puckered lips. Marquise gently lowered Terelle to the floor. The six-foot-five man danced around the living room while holding his tiny daughter in his arms, singing “My Girl” off-key.

  From her seat on the futon, Terelle observed the bonding between the two people she loved most in the world. Tears stung her eyes. She leaned forward with her hands pressed against her chest, an unconscious attempt to keep her heart from bursting with joy.

  Chapter Ten

  There was nothing like a good workout to relieve the frustration of pent-up sexual tension. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Kai laced her Nikes, keenly aware of a palpable hunger between her legs. She closed her legs tightly hoping the pressure would take the edge off the constant throbbing. It didn’t.

  She missed Kenneth terribly. Certainly, she had experienced feelings of disappointment when he was occasionally unable to maintain an erection, but he always compensated with oral sex. And when it came to oral sex, Kenneth was a master.

  Two weeks had passed since their volatile and acutely embarrassing encounter. And two weeks was too long to go without sexual release. How could he do this to her? Kai had left numerous messages pleading for forgiveness, but he still hadn’t called.

  He ignored her at work—walked brusquely by her as if she didn’t exist. It was humiliating.

  She finger-combed her hair, applied lip-gloss, grabbed her Louis Vuitton duffel and was quickly out the door.

  Instead of using her membership at the posh gym in her apartment building, or the upscale facility she sometimes frequented, which was also located in Center City, Kai decided to work out at Urban Exercise in West Philly. She’d never been there but was braced for a dismal environment.

  Her therapist had suggested that she bond with women of color, and now was as good a time as any to get in touch with her roots. But forming a kinship with her sisters wasn’t the only reason for Kai’s visit to Urban Exercise.

  She had a decidedly ulterior motive for her sojourn to the ghetto. Through some detective work on her part, she learned that Khalila Wallace—Ms. Nubia herself—was the executive director of the establishment. Kai intended to get a closer look at that woman. Perhaps she’d have a word with her nemesis, get a feel of her personality and search for the chinks in her armor that would enable Kai to devise a new and improved plan.

  There was no parking provided at Urban Exercise. That figured. Kai cruised up to a meter, but decided against on-street parking. She pulled her Benz into the nearby McDonald’s parking lot, defiantly ignoring signs that declared it available for patrons of the fast-food restaurant only. Violators would be towed and charged $75 to reclaim their vehicle. Kai sneered at the warning as she boldly pulled into the middle of two parking spaces, making certain there’d be no scratches on her shiny car when she returned.

  The black instructor of the 6 p.m. body sculpting class was overweight and sloppily attired in a faded and shapeless sweat suit. Scruffy sneakers and dingy socks completed the instructor’s disheveled appearance.

  Kai was disgusted. Was this a joke? She was accustomed to the stylish appearance and taut bodies of the annoyingly perky white women who instructed her Center City fitness classes. Well…there was one black instructor whom Kai respected—Stacey Long, a light-skinned, rather cute, freckle-faced kick-boxing instructor. Stacey was well-trained and definitely had it together.

  Kai scrutinized the dumpy Urban Exercise instructor. Perhaps there was some muscle hidden beneath the woman’s thick, boxy frame, but as far as Kai’s eyes could see, no part of the woman’s body looked sculpted.

  What were the criteria for the position—only butch-looking dykes need apply? She had paid ten dollars for the class and briefly considered getting her money back. She imagined herself storming into Ms. Nubia’s office to demand that someone more suitable—someone in shape, replace the misshapen cow leading the body sculpting class?

  That reverie provided devilish pleasure, but it wasn’t an option. Kai had noticed that the light was out in the lobby office with the cheap nameplate that read: Executive Director. Ms. Nubia had escaped for the day, but not for long. Kai would return another day—much earlier, and with a more clearly defined plan.

  Deciding to make the best of her drive to West Philly, Kai left the body sculpting class in an ostentatious flurry of displeasure and followed the signs point
ing to the weight room.

  There were no rules that excluded women from this room, but most were intimidated by the sounds of crashing metal, the groans and contorted faces of serious fitness devotees as they lifted tremendously heavy weights. These pumped-up males did not intimidate Kai; she was amused by their exhibition of testosterone in overdrive.

  Exuding confidence, she glided to the center of the room, paused to consider the antiquated treadmills, and then moved toward the stair climbers. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head and tossed it on top of her duffel bag.

  Bold male eyes watched her. The men were eager to offer assistance with the equipment. Kai didn’t need any help. She was quite familiar with this particular manufacturer’s equipment, but she’d never encountered a model quite as outdated. She pushed buttons and the machine jerkily engaged.

  Kai looked stylish and felt sexy in her workout gear: a pink half-top and snug pink and black flared sweat pants. Many pairs of admiring eyes wandered the length of her body. From head to toe, she was flawless. Well…almost. There was a missing patch of hair—the size of a quarter—above her left ear. Hair she’d pulled out during a highly stressful time. If she left it alone, the hair would grow back in no time. Until then, she carefully arranged her heavy locks, secured with a hairpin to cover the offensive bald spot.

  She climbed onto the stair climber, set the timer and began peddling. A few minutes later, a heavyset young woman, with a clip-on curly ponytail, lumbered over. She cast Kai a shy smile before clumsily straddling the seat of the stationary bike next to Kai’s stair climber. Kai quickly assessed the woman as urban, unsophisticated, uneducated, and definitely unworthy.

  “I was gonna get on the stair climber, but that thing wears me out,” the woman said, offering another smile accompanied by a set of deep dimples. The dimples, Kai felt, were a complete waste on that pudgy woman’s face. Kai was prepared to ignore her, but remembered she was supposed to make an attempt to form relationships with black women, so…what the hell…she begrudgingly smiled back.

  “I was too late to join the body sculpting class, so I’m going to try to ride this thing for ten minutes. Sure hope I don’t pass out.” The woman gave an annoying giggle at the end of the sentence. Kai stopped stepping and looked around for another stair climber—one that put some distance between her and this chattering numbskull. She was simply unwilling to suffer through foolish dialogue for the sake of appearing to have good manners. The hell with bonding!

  “My name’s LaVella.” The woman, obviously in need of a friend, smiled again.

  “Kai,” Kai said, stretching her lips into a semblance of a smile. “You need to pedal for at least twelve minutes if you want to burn calories.” Kai’s tone was deliberately authoritative. For some unknown reason, she was bothered by the woman’s laziness.

  LaVella looked puzzled. “I didn’t know that.”

  “That’s what they say. But everyone’s metabolism is different. I have a lot of nervous energy. I’m constantly fidgeting; I burn calories just standing still.” Kai gave a gleaming smile.

  “I wish I could burn off some of this weight. I get fatter just thinking about food.” LaVella laughed heartily.

  “You need to restrain yourself and learn to demonstrate some self-control,” Kai said sternly, intending to curtail LaVella’s irritating laughter. “Plan your meals. Portion-control. You shouldn’t just eat whatever is available. And…you can boost your metabolism by merely walking a half-hour a day.”

  “I can’t stick to any kinda exercise program. I try, but something always comes up.” LaVella shook her head in defeat.

  “Hey, don’t look so despondent. You can have a body just like mine if you’re willing to do the work. And, I can help you.” Kai wanted to fall out laughing at the light of hope that shone in LaVella’s eager eyes. The woman was downright stupid. Pitiable, actually. She had a lot of nerve striking up a conversation with someone like Kai—someone clearly out of her league. Under normal circumstances, Kai wouldn’t have given her the time of day. But she had picked up on the woman’s vulnerability—probably the result of her weight problem and the stranglehold of an underprivileged existence.

  Since she insisted that Kai chat, she should consider herself fair game. Until she figured out what the insufferable fool could do for her, she’d just have to string her along. She’d have to continue to pretend she was an expert in fitness and weight control. She’d also have to pretend to give a damn about LaVella’s fat ass.

  She’d missed the opportunity to get up close and personal with Ms. Nubia, so why not have some fun with one of her indigent members.

  “I’ll tell you what…I’m going to make you my special project.”

  “What kinda project?”

  “I’m taking a nutrition class at Temple,” Kai said, lying. “I have to write a paper. You can be my case study. My grade-point average will increase and you’ll get a new body…free of charge. All you have to do is be willing to work hard and follow the meal plan and exercise program that I develop for you.”

  LaVella looked impressed. “When can we start?”

  “How much do you weigh?” Kai inquired.

  “Um…about one-ninety.”

  Kai sensed she was lying. The disgustingly fat pig had to be at least two hundred and twenty-five pounds. “How tall are you?”

  “Five-six.”

  “Well, I’m five-seven and I only weigh one-eighteen.”

  “I wouldn’t look right being that skinny.” There was a defensive note in LaVella’s tone.

  “Do you think you look good at your current weight?” Kai looked LaVella firmly in the eye.

  LaVella shook her head.

  “Then, let’s do something about it!”

  Kai stepped off the stair climber and pulled a pad and Montblanc pen from her duffel bag. She jotted down her home number and handed it to LaVella. “Here you go. Call me tomorrow.”

  LaVella gazed at Kai’s telephone number with the expression of someone just being handed a winning lottery ticket.

  “Wait a second; I have an idea,” Kai said. LaVella cocked her head curiously.

  “Let’s go out and celebrate. My treat.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I want you to gorge yourself on the foods you enjoy the most because tomorrow you’re going to start your diet as well as begin some behavior modification.”

  Puzzled, LaVella raised a brow.

  “We’re going to discover the triggers for your eating binges. But in the meantime, let’s just go out and have some fun. What do you like? Chinese? Italian?”

  “Oh, I’m not picky. I like everything!” LaVella grinned.

  “Fine, then let’s get some take-out,” Kai said, noticing that LaVella’s mouth turned down a notch at the mention of take-out. Fatso must have expected to be taken to an expensive restaurant. On second thought, she probably would have loved to feed all night at one of those all-you-can-eat buffet-style eateries. Their steaming trays reminded Kai of troughs—the kind farmers use in pigsties. Yuck!

  But Kai didn’t have time for that; she had an urgent need. And, until Kenneth came to his senses, LaVella would do just fine.

  “You can eat at my place. We’ll have a celebratory drink and map out a plan for you.” Kai tugged LaVella’s arm impatiently. “Come on. My car’s parked in the McDonald’s lot and I don’t want to get towed.”

  In the parking lot, she practically shoved LaVella into the passenger seat.

  “Do you live nearby?” LaVella asked meekly. “I don’t know if the bus runs…”

  “I live in Center City. But don’t worry about the bus, dear. I’ll drive you home after you eat. Where do you live?”

  “Green Street. Near 40th and Lancaster.”

  Kai nodded, but couldn’t begin to imagine where 40th and Lancaster was located. It could have been on the moon for all she knew or cared. She had no intention of coming back to this part of the city. She’d send this moron home in a cab—if her performan
ce deserved such generosity. “Shame we didn’t get a chance to shower after that workout.”

  Confused by the change in conversation, LaVella sniffed at her armpits. “I’m cool. Girl, stop trippin’. Don’t be worryin’ ’bout no shower just to please me.”

  “Okay!” Kai said without hesitation. She displayed a sparkling smile as she started the car. She turned away from LaVella as she reminisced about her former college roommate, Cindy, a hick from Idaho who used to get off by sniffing Kai’s crotch after Kai’s step aerobics class. Getting sniffed would get Kai worked up and horny—but it was just foreplay—she refused to let Cindy touch her with her tongue. She preferred the feeling of a hard dick and would push Cindy away, shower and get ready for her date with her most recent boyfriend. Cindy’s sad expression brightened when Kai promised to let her taste her juices when she returned from her date. On the rare occasions that Kai came back from a date sexually unfulfilled, she’d stomp over to Cindy’s bed and kick the metal rail, jolting Cindy awake. Then, she’d plant her shoe on Cindy’s pillow, grab Cindy’s hair and impatiently guide the half-asleep idiot’s slobbering mouth to her point of pleasure. After climaxing, Kai had little tolerance for the now wide-awake, greedy girl who always continued licking and slurping as if she intended to suck Kai dry. Aggravated, Kai would take the heel of her shoe and send Cindy sprawling to the other side of the bed. She laughed at the recollection.

  “What’s funny?” LaVella asked with an innocent smile.

  “Nothing. Just admiring your cute dimples—you’re absolutely adorable.” Kai failed to mention her attraction to LaVella’s large lips. Oh well, all things in time. She’d share that with her new ghetto girlfriend when the time was right. Moist with perverse excitement, Kai revved the engine, reversed out of the lot and sped down 52nd Street.

  Chapter Eleven

  “All finished.” Terelle kissed the top of Marquise’s freshly braided head.