Going Broke (29 page)

“Ask.” I rested my chin on his chest to look at him.

“Can I interest you in looking for a job . . . in Boston?”

My heart skipped a beat; this was no metaphor. “What do you mean?”

“I already have a place there, but I want
you
in that place.” He smiled. “Move to Boston.”

“Move to Boston?” I asked with a Bostonian accent.

“Yeah,” he mocked me.

“Shore,” I joked. “Sure.”

I didn't truly appreciate Tremel, until I had to face living my life without him. Like they say, you never miss the water until the well runs dry. Being back together was better than where we left off.

 

“I wish you were there when it was snowing.” Tremel pulled me closer. “It's beautiful up there. You'll love it.”

I cuddled up next to him and thought of being with him, and closer to Daddy as well. “I love it already.” I rubbed his chest. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked in the darkness.

“For coming back.”

Suddenly then I heard noise come from the living room area. “What was that?” I asked him.

He chuckled. “It's probably just the crab. It may have crawled out of the garbage and hit the floor.”

Then there was another sound, like something had fallen down in the kitchen.

“Whoa.” I was scared.

We both sat up, and Tremel now seemed very concerned. “Did you lock the door behind you?” He sat up.

“I think so.” I tried to remember, but it was too late.

The bedroom door swung open, the lights came on, and in stepped Dwayne Cart/Damian Carter. “Damn, how the tables have turned,” Damian said. His face was evil and full of rage. “I come home and you're in bed with someone else.” He laughed.

“What the fuck?” I threw my bathrobe over Tremel then reached into my dresser drawer and grabbed my ugly, bulky, green housedress.

Tremel, in my robe, was pissed. He passed me on the way to Damian. “How did you get in here?”

He frowned at Tremel. “The same way that you did, motherfucker.”

I didn't want problems, so I got between the two of them and pushed Damian out into the hallway. “Damian, what are you doing here?” I was scared out of my mind, but happy that Tremel had picked this night to come back. “What do you want?”

“I'm here to finish what you started.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” I backed him up into the living room. Whatever was going to happen, I didn't want it to take my place in my bedroom.

“You fucked up everything that I planned.” He didn't flinch, falter, or back down. “Me fuckin' with India was part of a plan,” he said. “She had exactly what I wanted—money. Her shit was supposed to be the way I started my own company, but you and your jealous ass had to find out and go ballistic. Then you sent her up to my hotel room. That was wrong, that was dumb. I almost killed that bitch that night. I put her in the hospital, and I've been in jail for almost four months. I got fired from my damn job at the firm. I've lost everything.”

While Damian spoke, I saw Tremel grow angry. I watched his hands form fists and knew that that wasn't the answer.

I spoke up before he did anything. I believed that I was the right one to handle the situation. “I'm sorry, Damian.” I wasn't sure if I meant that. “I didn't mean to cause all of that to happen to you. What can I do to help you?”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a 9 millimeter. “You can start by getting this nigga the fuck out of my house.”

“I'm not leaving.” Tremel wasn't intimated. He stood bravely beside me and grabbed my hand. “And if I do, she's coming with me.”

“Please put the gun down,” I begged. “I'll do whatever you say. Anything you ask me to do, I'll do it. Just put the gun away, Damian.”

He aimed it at Tremel. “What now, pretty boy? What the fuck are you gonna do now?”

Damian's eyes were watery, and his pupils were dilated like he was on something. “There is something that you can do for me.”

I had never seen him this way. His clothing was wrinkled and dirty, and he smelled like he had been rolling around in vomit. “You can suck my dick again, right here in front of your man.”

“You're out of your fuckin' mind.” Tremel let go of my hand and leaped toward Damian. He pushed him onto the sofa, where they wrestled around a bit.

I saw only hands and feet; I couldn't see the gun. “Stop!” I screamed. “Please stop.” My fear was that Tremel wouldn't walk away. “Stop it!” I heard the trigger click, then the gun went off.

Tremel's body stopped moving, then so did Damian's.

I was confused; I couldn't move. My hands rushed to my mouth. I couldn't even scream when I saw a sign of life. Both Damian and Tremel stood to their feet; they were fine.

As crazy as everything was around me, I found the strength to smile as Tremel walked over to me. I was happy that he was all right.

“Sarai.” Tremel looked at me. “Sarai.” He called out to me again.

As badly as I wanted to answer him I couldn't.

“Oh my God!” he screamed.

My eyes couldn't focus on him. I couldn't focus on anything. My sight just got dimmer and dimmer until I couldn't see, then I felt my legs fold under me.

“Sarai,” he called over and over again. He thought I was close to him, but in reality I was already miles away. He yelled at Damian, “Look what you did! Look what you did!”

He asked Damian to call 911, but Damian yelled something back, and then I heard the door slam. Tremel left me only for a moment to run and get the phone. He hit three buttons, then I heard him telling someone my name, address, and the entire story of what happened.

“I love you, Sarai,” he cried. “Please don't leave me like this.”

I felt his tears hitting my face, and if I could cry I would've. If I could do anything, I would've.

He ran his warm hand down the side of my cold face. “I love you. Please don't go, Sarai. You can't leave me like this.” He rocked my upper body back and forth. “Please stay with me. Let me sing for you.” He tried to stop crying.

“I had forgotten how to live, forgotten how to give. I forgot how to trust, and how to lust. But through you I learned to care. Please forgive me if this seems rare. Now that I've found you, my life seems brand new. So, you'll never be . . . forgotten.”

It was the chorus to the song he wrote for me.

“Where are you damn guys?” he screamed, growing impatient that there was still no sign of the police. “We can't wait on them.” He wept and cradled my lifeless body and walked me through my apartment; he struggled to open the front door. “Don't you leave me,” he yelled at me as I heard the elevator doors open.

“I shouldn't have come here tonight. Just hold on, Sarai.” His voice was starting to sound farther and farther away. “Don't you leave me.”

I didn't know how to tell him, but I was leaving. As we made it to the ground floor I heard sirens. Tremel burst out of the elevator doors, with me folded up in his arms, screaming for help.

Help was waiting, but I was already gone.

Urban Books
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Deer Park, NY 11729

 

copyright © 2005 Trista Russell

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews

ISBN: 978-1-8931-9688-9

 

 

 

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