Going Broke (25 page)

Though I didn't see it, Tremel said that at the very end of the song his grandfather squeezed his hand. It was the first sign of life anyone had seen since he fell ill the night before.

I left Tremel and ran toward the waiting room to tell the family that there was hope. However, on the way there I ran into trouble—Norman.

“I changed my mind. I don't want a check. I want cash,” he said.

I scanned the area for family members. “I'm not traveling with that type of money.”

“Then go to the bank.”

I lied. “I bank with a credit union, and I can't take out more than two hundred a day at the ATM, so you'll have to wait until I get home.” I was sick of him.

“I'm not waitin' on shit. I want that money before you leave.”

“Why?” I tried to keep my voice down. “You own a bunch of jewelry stores. You don't need my money.” I wanted to spit on him. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You did it to yourself, bitch. You sent those pictures to my wife and fucked up my family.” He pointed at me. “Because of you, my life is hell. And you're right—I don't need your money—ten grand ain't shit to me. But because you tried to ruin my life, you better believe that I'm damn sure gonna to try to fuck yours up too.” He walked away and left me standing there like we were two passing strangers who weren't talking.

Norman was like a termite; he was eating away at me, and I was about to crumble. What do people do when they have pests?—They call an exterminator.

A friend of Damian's, Big Ralph, was “hired help,” and all I had to do was compensate him for his skills and time. I was ready to pay a price to see that Norman did not talk to Tremel or to anyone ever again.

Many times I had watched the news and saw people get busted for hiring a hitman who was really a detective, or some loser working for the cops, but that hadn't turned me off from the idea. The verdict?—Do or die. What I wanted to do would cause someone to die.

I continued my walk to the waiting room. I moved very slowly, trying to remember what it was I was supposed to say to Tremel's family. Before I made it there, a doctor rushed past me, and by the time I got there, everyone was screaming and crying.

Grandpa Colten had given up the ghost.

Shortly after the announcement, a nurse ushered Mel into the room, and he fell into my arms.

Because of the funeral arrangements, we ended up staying an additional week in Cleveland. During that time, I truly felt like a part of the family. You couldn't tell me that my last name wasn't Colten. Tremel and I spent day and night at his parents' house, helping to make arrangements, phone calls, and decisions. We never left the house for the hotel until after midnight each night.

Though Norman was always there, he acted the way a human should. I guessed the death had humbled him. He was actually nice to me when we were alone together, and he never mentioned the money.

 

 

“There's no place like home,” Tremel said as we walked into the apartment from the airport. “Seems like we haven't been here for months.” He rested our luggage on the living room floor. “I can't wait to get to bed.”

“Me too.”

It was just 5:30 on a Sunday evening.

“But we have a lot of mail to go through.” I looked at the blinking light on the answering machine. “And twenty-six new messages.”

“You're checking all that stuff on your own.” He dragged the bags from the living room to the bedroom. “I'm about to lay down.”

“No,” I whined, “I'm not doing your dirty work.” I ran behind him and pounced on the bed. “Get out of this bed. We have to do this stuff together. All of that mail isn't mine.”

He closed his eyes and faked a snoring noise, pretending to be asleep.

“Get up, Mel. Even Rip Van Winkle can't fall asleep that fast.” I started tickling him.

“Stop.” He was laughing uncontrollably. “I'm going to hurt you, girl.”

“Come on, let's go through the mail so that when we get in bed we can stay.” I grabbed his hand and tried dragging him out of bed.

He hopped up. “All right, fine. But you owe me a massage.”

“Deal.”

We walked into the living room and sorted the mail as we listened to the messages over the speakerphone.

We went through almost twenty messages before hearing a young woman's voice. “This message is for Tremel Colten. My name is Alexandria Mitchell. I am an executive producer at Jump Records.”

My heart leaped as she continued.

“We had a chance to listen to your demo a week ago, and I've been trying to contact you ever since. I decided to leave you a message this time.”

Tremel and I stared at one another.

“We were very impressed, and are hoping for the opportunity to work with you. A proposal was priority-mailed to you, but we still haven't heard from you. Please review it ASAP, and if you're still interested, please call me here at Jump. My number is . . .”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “If possible we'd like to get you out to Boston right away.”

Tremel and I were still staring at each other. We were both in an extreme state of shock. I couldn't believe that Julian had done me the favor anyhow. I hadn't told Mel about trying to submit to Jump, and he never submitted, because he didn't think he stood a chance with such a major record label. He didn't say a word. His smile said everything that he couldn't.

A full minute went by before he whispered, “Play it again.”

I hit the button, and this time we giggled dizzily during the entire message.

At the end he said, “This can't be real.”

We hugged.

“Is this a joke?” He repeated the question over and over again. “I can't believe this.” He kissed me several times before he realized that we had business to tend to. “We have to find that proposal,” he said anxiously. “I'm calling them first thing in the morning to let them know that I'm still interested.” He added, “Very interested.”

I was sitting in his lap by this time. I squealed, “Baby, we did it.” I corrected myself. “Well,
you
did it.”

He looked at me like I had just pinched him. “You were right the first time.
We
did it. You've been there for me, helped me get all of those demos out, made phone calls.” He paused. “We did it.” He kissed me softly. “I love you.”

My stomach was quivering. Though we still didn't know exactly what was up, the fact that something was up had me on a high.

“I love you too.” I got up from his lap and began to look over the mail.

We opened envelope after envelope in search of the dream.

In the midst of our search, the phone rang. It was Nat. She notified me that Nick had asked a teacher at school to find out her ring size.

I shrieked with happiness for her. It was the beginning of December, so Nick no doubt had a big question to ask her on Christmas Day.

“Wow.” I walked into the bedroom, leaving Tremel to sift through the mail alone. “I'm so happy for you.” I sat on the bed and smiled like it was my special day.

“I can't believe this,” she said. “How do I act surprised, though?”

I thought about it a bit. “Just pretend that he's asking for your size to buy you a pair of gloves,” I joked. “So when he pulls out the diamond, you just fall to the floor.”

“I can't believe this, Sarai. After all of these years, I finally found the one.”

Did she mean “the one,” as in one inch? I laughed to myself. “Who did he ask for your size?”

“Mrs. Cooper.”

“He should've asked me. I wouldn't have let you know anything.” In a way, I was disappointed that she already knew. “She should've kept the secret.”

“Well, she never actually told me.” See, this is how it happened—Nick met Sharisa, Mrs. Cooper, at the Thanksgiving thing at the school last week. I saw them talking a lot. I even caught a little attitude about it, but I kept cool, though. I didn't say anything, but I had major beef.” She paused. “Anyways, what happened was she came into the lounge today with this jewelry magazine and sat with me. All of a sudden we're discussing jewelry, and she asked my ring size.” Nat took a breath. “At first I thought I was just paranoid, but when I was in a restroom stall, she came in and I heard her on her cell. When she said ‘Nick? She wears a size six,' I thought I was going to die.”

“Whoa!” I smiled. “I say you just go on with business as usual. Don't let him know that you know.” My heartbeat was racing for her. “So we have a wedding to plan, huh?”

She screamed with joy. “Oh my God.”

“I'm jealous,” I said. “I want a big fat diam—”

My sentence was interrupted by Tremel's voice. “Sarai.”

“Oops.” I had forgotten all about Tremel's good news, but I didn't want to prematurely discuss anything. Plus, it was Nat's moment. “My man is calling me. Let me get back to you.” I hung up and walked into the living room.

“Did you find it?”

Tremel stared at me like he had seen a ghost.

“Is that it?” I asked, looking down at the oversized envelope in his hand.

“No.” He pointed to the manila packet on the sofa. “That's it.” He reached inside and showed me the contents. “But I found this.”

Even after taking a deep breath, I realized that there was nothing I could say to explain the pictures he handed me of his uncle and me doing it doggie-style. My life slipped into a coma. I knew that when I woke up nothing would make sense and everything that I had before would be worthless.

“What the fuck is this, Sarai?” His eyes welled up with tears and seeped with anger and disbelief. He hit the photos. “What the fuck is this?” He snatched the pictures out of my hand and flipped through them quickly. “How could you do this to me?” His lips trembled with fury. “My uncle?”

“It's not what you think. I can explain, Tremel.” I wanted to reach for him but was too afraid, so I took a step toward him instead.

He stepped back.

“That didn't happen in Cleveland. It happened awhile ago.”

“My uncle?” He frowned at me as though I had an odor. “My fuckin' uncle?”

“I didn't know that he was your uncle back then.” I was trying to sell him on that statement.

“Back when? Why didn't you tell me that you knew him?” He threw the pictures and sent them scattering all over the floor. “When did this shit happen?”

My emotions caught up with me, but more devastatingly, so did my lies. I was crying. “When I went to Atlanta.”

“‘Atlanta'?” He did a quick calculation. “Weren't we together then?”

I was sobbing. “Yeah,” I whispered. “Please let me explain.”

“You were supposed to be there for a job interview. I can't believe this.” He couldn't keep still, but he kept his cold, cheerless eyes on me. “You cheated on me.”

“No. It's not what you think. I wasn't cheating on you.”

He yelled. “You weren't cheating?” He picked up one of the pictures and pushed it in my face. “If you weren't cheating, then what the fuck were you doing, Sarai?” He shouted, “You cheated on me. You lied to me, you . . . you did it with my uncle.”

“It's not what you think,” I said weakly.

“It doesn't matter what I think. I think that that's blatantly obvious,” he shouted. “You don't give a damn about me.”

“I do.”

I reached for him, but he turned away.

“Please just hear me out.”

“Hear what? You don't have to say any more. I don't want an explanation.” He pointed at himself. “I gave you no reason to cheat.”

“I did it for money,” I blurted out in an effort to be understood.

“‘Money'?”

“I was broke, Mel. I had no money, nothing.” I tried to contain myself. “I was about to get kicked out of here, my car was about to be repossessed, and my dad's fuckin' nursing home bill had to be paid,” I shouted and cried. “I slept with men for money.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute.
Men
? How many men?”

Before I could say a word, he was back at me again. “You're a prostitute?” He chuckled out of madness. “I can't believe this shit. Here I am respecting you, wouldn't even sleep in the same bed with you until we both decided to be exclusive, and you're a fuckin' ho.”

“I needed the money.”

I grabbed his hand, and he yanked it away from me.

“Just listen to me, please,” I begged.

“I have nothing to listen for. And you don't have anything to say to me. Don't say anything else to me.”

He disappeared into the bedroom, and I followed him.

“I'm getting the fuck out of here.” He grabbed his already packed suitcase then pulled clean clothes out of his drawers and began stuffing them into his luggage. “Just get the hell out of here so that I can do this.”

“Tremel, I love you.”

He stood still and looked at me. “You don't love me. You didn't even like me in the beginning, when you learned I didn't have any money. You never thought anything of me. I offered to help you with the rent, and you told me that you didn't need my help. Trying to be all independent instead of—”

“That's because I knew that you couldn't afford it.”

He yelled, “Don't tell me what I can and can't afford. I offered to help you many times, and you wouldn't allow me to. You made it seem as though you weren't hurting.” He walked over to me. “I might not be Damian or them other cats, I may not be able to afford to pay rent here, but if I knew that you didn't have the money, we could've moved into something that I could afford.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks.