Love's Home Run, page 8
“You stupid. Do you realize you cause most of this with her? She has been about as understanding as a woman can be, and then you stretch her some more.''
“You don't know what she be doing to me. She's a pain in the ass.''
“Come on, man. Who you talking to? When was the last time you took her out?''
“Yo, I try to take her places and she always got an excuse. Shit, I make four million dollars a year and she talking about we can't find a baby sitter.
“Fuck that.''
Jack gave in. He knew better than what his friend was saying, but he didn't feel like going deeper into the subject.
At 12:30 a.m. while Jack and Oscar were watching X-rated movies and talking dirty-and after the seventh time Sondra called, this time to say some woman had called and hung up, someone rang Jack's doorbell.
“That must be Janet,” Oscar said as he rose and darted down the steps to the door.
“Why did you invite a ho here?”
“Why not? Just chill and I will let you have some.” He opened the door and the young lady gave him a long kiss.
Jack stood at the top of the stairs and when Oscar returned with the woman he pulled O to the side. “Listen, aren't you in enough trouble?”
“Fuck that!” Oscar pulled away. Then he turned back and whispered, ''You got any condoms?''
''What if I said no?''
''Then you would feel guilty at my funeral.''
''You know where. But don't stay in my room. I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight.''
An hour later O returned. He was grinning, and had on a pair of Jack’s silk under pants; they were too big on him.
“You want some, G?’’
Jack glared up from his easy chair. “Is she married?’’ he finally asked.
Oscar laughed and said, “No, but her daddy would kill us. She's 15.”
Jack's heart leaped into his throat. “What are you doing to me?”
“Chill, New, chill! Does she look 15? Just come get your dick wet. I thought you said you needed some?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Stop looking at them flicks and cut the scared routine, we been doing this for years.”
“I can’t do that no more, O.”
“Do what?”
“Bone groupies. I'm tired of that shit.”
“You buggin’.” Oscar stared at his teammate and felt the seriousness. “What’s got into you? You worried about Slight? Fuck him! He ain’t gonna trade you. He know we the team, shit. You here forever, like me.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Man, that’s only the half. I just can’t hang with the different bitches every night, in every city. Man, don’t you know what you got at home? A wife, and a damn good one at that. That's what the fuck I am looking for. It’s time to settle down.”
The teenager called Oscar. He yelled, ''I'll be there in a second.'' Oscar sat on the arm of the easy chair Jack was in. He buckled his pants.
“You definitely buggin’,'' he began, pointing his whole hand at Jack with each sentence. ''I here to tell you, the grass ain’t greener. Fuck the married life! I should have never gotten married.
“Shit. Sondra is about to rob me blind. She’s gonna take everything.”
“Sondra ain’t going nowhere. She loves the hell out of you. She ain’t leaving you.”
“I wish she would.”
“No you don’t.”
Oscar sucked his teeth. He stood and shook his head at Jack.
“The grass ain’t greener,” he said as he returned to his teenager. He pounded the girl as hard as he could and ordered her to scream, being rough with her. He wanted Jack to hear them to make Jack jealous. He did, but Jack was serious about finding a steady lover.
Jack spent another sleepless night on his couch. When he did nod off around 2 a.m., he dreamt that instead of swerving to miss Djuana, he hit her. In his sleep, he squirmed at the sight of her body flying in air and landing on his hood, then the street. She moaned and groaned in his arms before dying when the cops arrived.
The nightmare woke him up just in time to see Oscar and Janet creeping down the steps to the front door. Jack noticed the headlights in his driveway, then the car left. Oscar came back in without a word and went to bed.
Djuana awoke hoping, praying, that the day before was a dream. It wasn’t. The left side of her head was in pain. Next to her in the bed was Tia. Uncle Calvin was sleeping off a night of drinking on the couch. He and her mother had called Dexter’s phone number most of the night.
And she was both hungry and nauseous.
Djuana was the first up and about. She showered, cooked breakfast for all, and then dressed for work. Tia and Emma tried to talk her into calling in sick. They wanted to begin plans for the abortion. Emma wanted her to call Dexter and invite him over. Djuana objected to all proposals.
“We need to talk,” Emma declared. “That ain’t gonna go away like a cold. We need to do something. And do it now.”
“I know, I know,” Djuana whined. She needed an escape. Going to work would be that outlet.
Djuana walked through the mall believing everybody knew of her bout the day before. Anthony Thompson, the floor supervisor, greeted her at her station. He asked her about the bruise, which had darkened and began shrinking. She didn’t want to have to explain to him, and she didn’t. He seemed careless.
Mr. Thompson was all business that morning, very unusual. He was known throughout the mall as a flirt. He had taken Djuana out once, but when she refused to let the date end at his home, he backed off, yet continued to make light passes. Two weeks prior to that morning he had invited her to a yacht party given by the store's vice presidents. Djuana said no.
Charese came in a few minutes late, her usual, and was burning to ask Djuana about the day before. “Are you all right?” she said before removing her jacket and punching in.
“I'm fine,” Djuana said, a little annoyed that Charese would choose to be nosy instead of punching in.
“Shit, DJ, I saw from my man's car. I told his tired-ass to stop, but he said he shouldn't. Damn, I didn't know he was like that.”
“Look, Reese, I rather not discuss yesterday. Okay. Let's just get to work.”
Charese disappeared.
Tia borrowed her father's car to use to pick up Djuana from work. She wanted to take her friend for a ride and talk.
When Tia told her parents the whole story about Djuana being pregnant, her father, Leonard Williams snapped, “Not by Dexter, I hope.”
Tia's sister, Ansea, agreed: “Nobody likes him. He's a dog.”
Tia's mother was distraught. “Poor child,” Bernadette Williams proclaimed. “It's a shame. I know Emma is taking it hard.”
“Ms. P wants Djuana to have an abortion.”
“No way!” Bernadette said. “That would be a sin. I have got to talk with Emma.”
“Mom, that's their decision. You can't step in.”
Bernadette, ignoring her daughter, picked up the phone and called Emma at work. The two planned a meeting at Emma's apartment.
Tia parked in the first level of the mall’s parking garage as a sudden cloudburst had unleashed buckets of raindrops. She browsed for a bit; she was a few minutes early. Once off the escalator, she spotted Djuana doing paperwork with her supervisor, Anthony Thompson. Tia unhooked the top two buttons on her loose cream-colored, long sleeve blouse, hoping Djuana’s boss could catch a glimpse.
When Djuana saw her friend's bright smile it warmed her heart immediately. It signaled the end of another hectic day. Thoughts and worries were constantly clouding her mind. And Mr. Thompson’s light passes were not helping. She glanced at her gold watch. Damn. Why do I have this on?
“You ready, Love?” Tia asked Djuana as she neared.
Djuana looked over at Thompson's wristwatch. “In a second. I just need to punch out and file these-”
“Hi. Tia, isn’t it? Long time no see,’’ Thompson cut in, smiling for the first time that day in Djuana's presence. His pupils darted up and down Tia’s slim body.
Tia's smile widened, moving away from the counter so he could see all he cared to. “Yes. And how are you?”
“Oh, I'm fine.” he turned to Djuana and told her he'd put away the paperwork. “I'm sorry you two have to rush off. Maybe I'll get to spend sometime with you one day, Tia.”
Tia blushed. “Maybe.”
“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go,’’ Djuana said abruptly.
The two women made an ice cream stop before leaving the building.
“Miss, you are not going to gain weight alone,” Tia said, steering with one hand, holding chocolate Fantasy ice cream in the other.
Djuana laughed. And thought about her belly widening and poking out from her small, yet plump, frame. No more size eight, she thought. Unconsciously, her free hand rubbed her stomach.
Actually, Djuana hadn’t fit into a size eight in two years. She was a 10 or 12 in many styles.
The low hush of soul music filled the car as traffic slowly moved in the steady rain. Tia abruptly turned right on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, she has just about forgotten she had to turn, trying to figure out why her best friend, who hates no one, and there are many that she should, in Tia’s eyes, doesn’t seem to get along with her handsome boss.
“Why you hate Thompson?’’ Tia asked while surveying the traffic with a frown.
“I ain’t never say I hated the man.’’
“You sure don’t act like you like him.’’
“Well, he is my boss, you know. It’s just all about business. That’s all it should be. If you want him, go for him. Just don’t ask me to help. I want no parts of him when I am off.’’
“Girl, don’t tell me you still mad about that little date?’’ Tia looked at Djuana a full second. Djuana was looking away, at nothing in particular.
“He’s a man,’’ Tia said. “And, a handsome one at that, I might as well add. He just wanted some leg.’’
“Well, he ain’t get none. And he won’t.’’
“I’ll give him some. Plenty!’’
Djuana moved to end the conversation, “Let’s stop at the grocery store. Maybe you can make me some of your brownies tonight.’’
“Okay,’’ Tia sighed. She was in a talkative mood. She searched for a different topic. When she asked about Jack, Djuana brightened, to her surprise, and opened up.
“Did you say this guy plays for the Crowns? He's a baseball player?”
“Yep.” Djuana stared out her window, catching the eye of a young man in a sports car across from them in traffic. He smiled. Djuana turned her head back to Tia, catching the end of her statement.
“And he was cool, I mean as far as you know?”
“Yes.”
“You believe in fate?” Tia asked.
Djuana focused on the question. Was it fate? She thought it probably was sick fate, if any. She had met the man of her dreams while being pregnant by the man she always thought loved her.
Tia continued, “Things happen for reasons. Maybe he is a blessing in disguise.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. But it's funny, when he came into the store I was bitter and at the same time glad to see him.”
Tia shook her head and accelerated into open traffic. “He came to the store?’’
“He was there for one of those in-store promos we have,’’ Djuana twisted her lips. “He didn’t know I worked there, or so he claimed.’’
“I’m telling you, fate! Watch, you’ll be telling your grand kids the story of how their grandfather almost ran you down, then fell in love with you.’’
“You a mess, Tia.’’
Superfood was crowded as usual on an early Friday evening. Tia pushed the cart while Djuana walked along side. A call home to Emma had extended their list of groceries; Emma had forgotten a few items the day before.
The two ladies shopped and gossiped. They looked over prices of baby products; Tia suggested they begin buying the stuff soon because the prices seemed high. Djuana was unsure. She was thinking Dexter would have to be a part of the money spending, heavily.
They put more snacks in their cart than food and joined the long checkout lines with a full cart. While on line, Djuana noticed the baseball cards mixed in with candies and gums underneath the TV Guides. She picked up a pack and opened it. A Portland Crown was the first she saw.
Tia elbowed Djuana, “You buying them? Or, are you looking for somebody?”
Djuana didn't reply, she just reached for another pack.
“Let me see,” Tia took a pack and ripped open the shiny pack. She thumbed through the cards. “What's his name, again? Here's a Crown. Oh, he's white.
“Mr. Fate ain't white, is he?!”
“Tia! Quiet down. No he ain't white. Let me see those cards.”
The women examined two more packs, with shoppers curiously watching, before Tia stumbled across Jack Newhouse. “Um. Nice. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. Shit, he does have a job.
“What is of?” Tia winced.
“Not of, silly. O F. Outfield. He plays out there,” Djuana pointed playfully. Tia looked and they both saw. Neither continued to smile.
Three aisles away, Dexter was pushing a shopping cart, turning down the canned food section, with a very pregnant woman on his arm. In the cart along with the groceries, was a young boy eating cookies. The sight of the happy-looking family caused a sharp slicing pain across Djuana’s chest. She dropped the baseball cards into the cart. She began walking toward aisle six.
“Djuana?” Tia sternly called. “Don’t.”
“Stay here on line,” Djuana said, almost drifting. “I'll be right back.”
Tia was enlivened, but she stayed with the cart. Kick his ass, she wished. Please kick his ass. Fuck him up and the ho with him!
Djuana turned the corner, side stepping an elderly woman, and followed her man. She plotted out a plan. Hit him hard and walk away? No. Slap him and her? No, she's pregnant. Shit, she's pregnant, looked to be at least seven months pregnant. That no-good bastard has a nice little family. Shit. That was all I ever asked the motherfucker for, and what did he keep saying? 'I ain't ready’; ‘I ain’t ready’.
Shit!
The family turned again and was going up the no-frills aisle. Djuana quickened her pace. Her heart lumped in her throat and thumped. She attempted to curb her anger before engaging the happy-fucking-family. A quick blink of her eyes, and Djuana realized she had been directly behind them a full second.
“Dex.”
He didn't budge.
“Dexter,” Djuana refused to yell and show anger. She wanted to be in control.
The woman looked up from the cart. She stared at Djuana, then turned to her man. “Dex, you know this woman?”
Dexter stared at the bags of dry peas on the shelf. It was next on the list. The hum of Djuana's light voice saying his name was deep in his memory. He had known it was her seconds before his woman spoke. He turned quickly, as if he hadn't heard the question; with his eyebrows raised.
“Huh?” was all he could say.
Djuana spoke in a controlled voice. “Dexter, you gotta explain this scene.” Djuana looked at the other woman, waiting for her to protest. She was no competition, Djuana felt. Her mind went to fury: Why he want that no hair, no ass, no hips, no nails - the bitch's got a diamond ring!
Dexter stepped from the cart. “What do you want? You following me?” He pretended to be annoyed. He was fighting the shock, the fear.
Sahmara Forns continued to be disturbed. “Who is this, Dexter?”
“Just an ex,” Dexter tried to hush his wife. A few shoppers had gathered. “I'll be a second,” he said.
When Dexter stepped near Djuana she slapped him with every ounce of anger and body weight she could put behind her small, soft hand. Dexter, although not strongly built, barely moved.
“Just an ex? That's all I am? Huh, Dex?” She hit him again.
Dexter grabbed Djuana into a bear hug from behind. Djuana struggled to free herself, all the while cursing.
Sahmara was pushing Djuana while her husband held her, trying to force her to fall into the canned goods. Dexter held on to Djuana, and at the same time tried to push his wife away.
Djuana was yelling and struggling. “Come on, bitch! I’ll fuck you up too!” She began calling to Tia as her friend neared. “Get him off of me so I can kill both these motherfuckers!”
The supermarket became a one-aisle show; the crowd swelled deep from both entrances of aisle five. Tia slithered her way to Djuana’s aid.
Security came running; and Dexter released Djuana as the guards asked. His very pregnant wife pushed Tia to the ground. She sprang up, wildly swinging her arms, but a guard had stepped in between them.
Dexter was cool. He berated Djuana from behind the guards: “See? Now do you under-fucking-stand? I am through with you. Just let it go.”
Djuana was unruly, “Yeah, you played me once, that’s it! I’ma kill the fucking baby, you besta believe that shit. Your baby, this one, is dead. Believe that. I don’t want shit from you! Ever!”
A gasp silenced the attentive crowd. Tia pushed and pulled her friend away. Djuana kept the verbal shots flying as they left. Dexter’s very pregnant woman held their crying son and glared at Dexter. He shook his head, and almost begged, “That bitch is lying. Don’t you see she’s jealous? She’s just trying to ruin what we have, Babe.”
Dexter's wife walked away, leaving her husband with his arms spread.
“Two damn fools and one dog,'' said one older female in the crowd.
“Disgusting,'' another female said.
A man, shopping with his wife and infant shook his head while his wife frowned at him.
“You see?’’ she said to her husband. “That's the stupidness that men do that I'm was talking about.''
Djuana didn’t want to shed another tear, yet she cried the whole car trip to her apartment. Tia wept in anger and drove. They had left the cart full of groceries in the checkout line.
“How didn't I know? How?'' Djuana broke the silence. She thought about how for the last year or so she could not get him on the phone unless he returned a call. He seemed to never be home. At his job at the Post Office, it was impossible to get him on the phone. His co-workers had become cold, but Djuana thought little of those men and women because he rarely spoke of them.
