Page 18 of Cause When You Love Someone

“I believe you.” I watched her tongue sweep across her bottom lip before she peeled open the white robe that swallowed her body. “That’s why you get all of this.”

“Damn. We may have to skip dinner. I want to eat you.”

Right as I entered the lobby, Durk groaned like I soiled his ears. “Eww! This is a place of business. Go back outside with that shit. Nasty nigga.”

Clarke snickered at his outburst as she waved goodbye, then ended the call.

“About time you made it inside.” Durk spoke. “I thought you planned to sit in the parking lot forever.”

“And you were a loyal dog and waited for me by the door. Good boy.”

His fists smashed into my chest before I could step out of the way.

“Fuck you,” he spat out. “Bring your ass. We’re already late for the meeting.”

“ We ?”

“That’s what I said. Y’all are working with folks with deep pockets. I could use the money to open my next shop.”

We entered the meeting area right as Shiloh walked to the front of the room. He gave us a sharp stare like a teacher silently scolding tardy students, but he continued to address the other men in the room.

Less than five minutes after I sat down, my phone was flooded with risqué pictures of the superstar I liked to put my mouth on. The more messages she sent, the more disengaged I became from the meeting.

“The latest contracts have been sent to those selected for the jobs. If you didn’t receive any paperwork, you’ll have something in your email by Thursday.”

I glanced up, hearing the office chairs slide across the hardwood floor.

“Oh, shit,” I mumbled as everyone except Durk and Shiloh dispersed. “The meeting is over already?”

“Already?” Shiloh chuckled. “I been up here for forty minutes. I started to snatch that fucking phone out of your hand for being a rude nigga.”

I placed my phone face down on the table like the damage wasn’t already done. “My bad, Shiloh. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“I know, and that’s why I left you alone. I’ve been around you for a long time, and I have never seen you this red in the face over a woman.” Shiloh sat back and smiled proudly. “I still can’t believe you started messing with your client. I would expect that from Durk or Loso, but not you.”

“Yeah. It came out of nowhere, but I like her. A lot.”

“Then you know you need to quit.”

I nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

I knew Shiloh wanted me to quit because our situation was a conflict of interest, but conversations I had with Clarke made me reconsider my decision about Eshu’s Shields altogether.

My savings account allowed me time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, yet my thirst for money had me in limbo.

A hearty laugh erupted from Shiloh, invading my thoughts. “All that zoning out is probably why I received complaints about you.”

“You can’t be serious. From who?”

“Your girlfriend’s mama. She called twice. Once when you and the princess went missing, and again last night.”

“That woman needs to find something else to do besides hover over her daughter. Clarke isn’t perfect, but her mama is her biggest hater.”

Durk lifted a brow. “And you’re her saving grace?”

“I think she’s mine.”

Although I didn’t know how she would take it, I had been thinking about ending the contract since the night she fell asleep with her soft ass cheeks in my hands.

I didn’t have a plan set in stone, but I had been thinking about cutting off my business relationship with Clarke after her Vegas appearance.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Shiloh asked.

“For the first time in years, not really,” I confessed. “After everything you’ve done for me, I don’t like letting you down.”

“My brother is finding his own path. Ain’t shit about that a letdown. I’m proud of you, nigga. Do you have a plan?”

“Nothing solid, but I’m working on it. You know I won’t make a move until I have everything mapped out on paper.”

Shiloh issued more advice before the conversation switched to Durk and his plan to open a second tattoo shop.

We sat and talked for about an hour before a call from my tailor gave me a reason to head out.

Even though the cousins swore they were busy, anytime we got together, they talked shit and chilled for hours unless their wives were available.

“Yo! Ishmael, come here,” Deuce, one of the warehouse guards, hollered before I could get through the exit.

“For what? I’m on my way out the door.”

“Your mama is at the back door!”

My heart jerked against its tethers. When I was in high school, my mom didn’t show up to one school event, and now, she popped up every chance she got.

My legs devoured the space between me and the rear exit. Deuce’s burly frame blocked the doorway, and still, my mom’s raspy threats slithered past him.

“Deuce, let her in.”

“Yeah, you heard my son. Get your big ass out my way!”

The guard’s sight traveled back to me before he walked off, shaking his head.

“Mariah, why would you come to my job causing a ruckus? How did you even know where I worked?”

“You ain’t the only one who knows how to use a computer.” She gripped her hips. “I’ve been calling you, and you haven’t picked up. Your family is in a bind, boy!”

With no sympathy, I remained quiet as she ranted and raved about her hardships. Her hyped demeanor made me think she had gotten her hands on something stronger than pills.

“This isn’t the way to get my attention. We can speak in my office.”

“I’m not going nowhere.” She swiped wrinkles from her dingy white sundress. “You’ve always tried to keep me locked in a fucking room. You’re embarrassed by me, Ishmael? I’m your family!”

“Act like it! Ever since I was little, you’ve acted like I’m your brother or your man. I’m your son!”

“A son I didn’t ask for! I was only twenty when I had you. I was too young to be somebody’s mama!”

I grimaced. “You were only fifteen when you became a pill head, but you don’t have a problem with that! Take some responsibility for the way your life turned out!”

Our back and forth triggered a small crowd to form on the second floor of the warehouse.

“You know what? Fuck you, Ishmael. Don’t forget, the bible says?—”

“If you finish that scripture, you’re going to hell, Mariah. Your rent is paid. Had you checked your mail, you would’ve saw I put the receipt in there days ago.”

“Well, I would say thank you, but I know you didn’t do it for me.”

“It doesn’t matter why I paid the rent. Just thank God it’s handled.”

Frown lines creased the corners of her mouth. “Smart ass. I hate a goody two-shoes ass nigga, and that’s exactly what you are.”

“Your kids are the reason you came up in life. Section 8, the food stamps, and every other thing you have is because of me and Izzy. You used to play me, and I still prayed for you. My prayers help keep you alive, but you hate me. Get the fuck out of here, lady.”

Though I was on my way out the door before Mariah showed up, I went to my office and flopped down onto the loveseat.

“Are you okay?”

My eyes raced from side to side hearing Clarke’s soft voice float through my head.

“What the hell?” I patted my ear, feeling for my pod. “I didn’t realize I called you.”

“Yeah.” Her voice dragged. “Don’t think I’m weird. It sounded like you needed me, so I didn’t hang up. Do I need to pull up? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you raise your voice. Not unless you’re clearing out a crowd.”

“Yeah. My mother brings out the worst in me.”

She scoffed. “I know that feeling all too well. How can I make it better?”

The warmth in Clarke’s delivery absorbed the icy words Mariah left behind.

“You can be ready to go out by seven. I know I said we would stay in, but if I sit too long, old memories may drive me up a wall.”

“I got you.” She paused. “I know you may not want to talk about it, but what was the turning point for you two?”

Her question drove my hands up to my temples. A few times a year I thought about what drove a permanent wedge between me and Mariah, and still, the memory gave me a headache.

I sat in the corner of my room on a bean bag too small for my long frame, reading Gio Flight’s new street lit.

My baby sister was gone with our auntie Tisha, so I had the room to myself.

It wasn’t too often the house was quiet, but today, I had been able to make it halfway through my book without any interruptions.

In my own world, I nearly shitted on myself hearing a loud bang in the front room. A barrage of footsteps followed, sending my heartbeat into overdrive.

My mom’s screams echoed through our half-empty apartment as I busted out of the room and came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

“Get that gun out of his face! My son is only fourteen!”

The police ignored her and escorted me to the living room. I praised God my sister wasn’t around for the police to manhandle her like they did me. Even though she was a baby, the police wouldn’t have cared.

Side by side, my mom and I sat cuffed on the couch. She kept bumping my shoulder and whispering, but the crashes of glass around us competed for my attention.

The officers tore up our apartment for thirty minutes before they came down the hallway holding two bricks of white powder.

“Look at what we have here,” the redneck declared with a smile. “Who do these belong to?”

“You planted that shit in here! Don’t try to play me.”

“Bitch! You’re the only one playing games. You and your nappy-headed bastard are going to jail if you don’t tell me what I want to hear.” He fingered one of the only picture frames on the wall. “Where is Charles? That’s who we’re here for.”

My mom struggled to stand while shaking her head profusely. “No! That don’t belong to Charles. That’s not his.”

“So, it’s yours.”

“Hell no!”

The big-bellied man grinned as his eyes shifted to me. “It belongs to him.”

My mom looked at me like an idea had come to mind. I couldn’t hear her thoughts, but at fourteen, I learned to recognize when she was prepared to lie.

“Officer Johnson, give us a break. He’s only fourteen. He doesn’t know any better.”

“Well, I’m going to teach him a lesson.” He reached for my cuffed hands. “Stand up, son. You have the right to remain silent . . . ”

The officer’s voice faded once we made it out the front door. My mom followed us, yelling things I could barely dissect, but after she lied on me, I didn’t care to hear her speak at all. I was sure anything she said would tear us further apart.

Like she wasn’t the cause of her tears, my mom cried while the pigs pushed me into the back seat.

“Ishmael, don’t tell them anything! They can’t hold you too long. You’re a minor.”

“So it’s okay for me to take a charge for your boyfriend? I can’t play basketball from jail. I can’t get financial aid with a felony! Tell them the truth, Mariah.”

“Stop talking, Ishmael. Charles is going to straighten things out.”

My mom was no better than the old heads who convinced youngins to take the fall with promises of less time. I knew better, but I also knew snitching on Charles would bring my family more trouble than me going to juvie.