Hot Boyz (22 page)

“The pregnancy test has two pink lines, Mercedes. She mailed it to Torino.”

“She what? She mailed the test kit to him? I wouldn’t be surprised if that was probably somebody else’s test. But I must say that I don’t know if she’d stoop to borrowed pee or not. What’s she gonna do about it?” Mercedes asked.

“She wants it, so she says. But Torino doesn’t buy it.”

Mercedes seemed understanding of Torino. “Hell, he doesn’t even know if it’s his, or if she’s even pregnant at all. Why do women always play that card? Like having a child with the man is going to make him leave his woman?”

“A lot of men do just that.”

“Torino won’t. That much I know.”

“He’d better not,” warned Sequoia.

“Wow, look at you. You’re playing for keeps. When are you going to make your way back over here to your man’s house?”

“In a minute. I’ll talk to you later, girl.”

“All right now. Be careful and be happy,” Mercedes admonished.

“I will.”

Within a few hours, Sequoia was preparing to make it on over to Torino’s place. She knew he was about to leave and that he’d probably be gone when she got there. But she had the key to his place anyway so it didn’t matter. She was secure in knowing that when his night was all said and done, he was coming home to her. And she’d be waiting.

After nine o’clock that night Torino was in his car. He answered his cell while on his way to the club.

Kyle greeted him. “Hey dude.”

Torino was casual in his reply. “What up?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Talk.”

“Man, chill out.”

“Talk.” Torino repeated himself.

“Colette is pregnant.”

“She told me that hard-to-believe news. But, if she is, it’s yours.”

“Torino, man.”

Torino signaled to turn into the parking lot. “Anything else, bro? I’ve gotta go.”

Kyle sounded apologetic. “Man, I want to explain.”

“No need. You thought with your dick. I ain’t mad.”

“No, I mean about the comps at the club, Torino. Let me explain.”

“Talk.”

“I was wrong. I was wrong about that and about kicking it with Colette.”

Torino turned off the ignition and prepared to exit his ride. “Well, as far as Colette is concerned I guess it couldn’t have been too wrong. You’re about to be a papa, bro. Anyway, I never got a piece of that without a glove, man. I’m out.”

Kyle gave up. “Peace.”

Click.

Venus spent the next day on the telephone, looking for volunteer work either as a cuddler with a baby adoption service, or placing children who were in foster homes. She had not heard back from the Make-A-Wish Foundation, which was the gig she really wanted.

The in-home nurse, Gloria, came into the den and handed her the cordless phone.

“Thanks, Gloria. Hello?”

“Hello, is Claude there?” a woman asked.

“No he’s not. Who’s calling?”

“It’s Heidi from the real estate office. Is this Venus?”

“Yes it is. How are you, Heidi?” Venus turned off the television that had been watching her.

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll tell him you called. Is there a message?” Venus inquired.

“Well, just that I have the rent check for this month and I’m about to go out of town. Can I bring it by?”

“How about if I run by and get it. Is that okay? I’m about to leave anyway.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Heidi said.

“Which property are you in?” Venus asked.

Heidi replied, “I’m on the northwest corner on Sixty-fourth and Garth.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Venus walked up to the door, noticing a new white Infiniti parked in the driveway. She knocked three times and then Heidi opened the door.

“Hello, Venus. Thanks for coming by. I just didn’t want to send it being that it would get to him late.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything really important. I have the time,” Venus said, standing at the threshold.

“I’ll go get the check. Have a seat.”

Venus sat in the chair by the bay window. “How long have you lived here?”

Heidi walked back with her purse. “Oh, not that long. I really
should buy my own home, especially since I’m in the business. I should be able to do that by next year. I moved in right after Claude and his ex-wife bought their new home. I guess it’s a lot larger, huh?”

Venus corrected her. “That was Fatima. They were never married.”

Heidi signed the check. “Oh, I’m sorry. I got it wrong.”

Venus looked all around. “It’s okay. Yes, I think our house is quite a bit larger, but I like the style of this home. The high ceilings are very nice.”

“Thanks,” Heidi said, handing Venus the check for six hundred dollars.

Venus looked at the amount. “Is that all you pay?”

“Yes, they’ve never raised the rent on me.”

“Who’s they?” Venus asked.

“Claude and Mace. His name is on this house now, too.”

“How long have you known Mason?”

“Pretty much ever since I met Cicely. Probably back in college. He’s the one who asked Claude to rent it to me,” Heidi explained.

“Oh, I see. It’s just that I thought you and Cicely were sisters. At least that’s what my husband told me.”

“Oh gosh, no. Whatever gave him that idea?” Heidi pointed to a framed picture of her and Cicely. “No, she’s just my best friend in the world, that’s all. You know how we are, always claiming our best friends are family, like a second cousin or something. That’s black folks for you.”

Venus stood up. “I guess so. Well, I’m going to get going, Heidi. I’ll make sure to give Claude the check.”

“Thanks for stopping by. I could have given it to Claude at work but like I said I’m on vacation this week. Cicely and I are going to Mexico for ten days. Cancun you know.”

“That should be lovely. Enjoy yourself, Heidi. I’ll see you a little later.”

“Okay. Tell Claude I said hello for me.”

“I will.”
What the hell is this all about?
Venus asked herself.

Just before dusk, Claude pulled through Holy Cross cemetery to a street called Resurrection. He parked his fancy red sports car along the curb and stepped out with two bouquets of white roses for his first love. He stepped onto the curb and walked over toward the statue of Mary that watched over Fatima’s graveside. “Fatima Clark,” read the gray marble stone, “Always in our hearts.”

He removed the dirty, metal flower vase as ants scattered for cover. He headed toward the water fountain to rinse the dirt and grass to fill it to the rim and returned to the tombstone and neatly arranged each bouquet in the vase. He took a deep inhale to the fragrant, rich petals, replaced the vase and stood back to admire the way the long stemmed roses spread out from left to right like wings spanning along the direct width of the stone.

The warmth of the hot wind blew across his face. He kneeled down on one knee and began to speak.

“Fatima. My dear Fatima. I pray that you know how much I miss you. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. These flowers are from Cam and me. He talks about you every now and then but I know what’s up with him. Actually, he hates it when I bring you up because it makes him have to face too many feelings. I refuse to push him, but eventually he will need to get it out and face it. But what kind of role model am I when I have trouble facing it as well?”

Claude looked toward the nearby hillside, sloped, and green
blades of grass and tall headstones lined up in a row. He recalled a telephone message he’d heard on Fatima’s cell phone the day she died. He replayed it in his mind as if he’d memorized it.

He sighed and talked toward Fatima’s headstone. “Look, Fatima, I know that you loved me. I really do forgive you for getting involved with Owen. I have to forgive you, otherwise I’ll go crazy. I know you intended to cut it off. You must have been scared to death. And I’m sorry that asshole was sick enough to do what he did. He deserved more than what he got. But you didn’t deserve to die.

“Venus is okay. At times I can’t figure out where my head is with her. Sometimes I hate her for agreeing to marry me. Sometimes I hate her for loving me. Sometimes I hate her for desiring me. Sometimes I hate her for being in that house with me. A part of me respects her for taking on Cam and me. I respect her for dealing with the shame and the guilt and the gossip. But she is a good woman and I made the choice to say I do, so I must deal with it. I
got myself into this situation and by the grace of God, I’ll get through this.

“I love you, Tima. Maybe being married would have made a difference, I don’t know. But I thank you for Cam. I thank you for bringing him into my life when his jerk of a father abandoned both of you. I thank you for being our angel and watching over us. And I thank you for the many years you gave me, being my woman and making me happy. It must be a glorious feeling to be able to rest in peace. Tell Daddy I said hello. I’ll see you both again some day. Good-bye.”

Claude continued to kneel and then gave the sign of the cross. He stood and shook away the loose grass from his right knee. He stared at the large, shady trees all around him and reached down to pick up a tiny branch with thin stems that extended outward. He bent two of the stems into a curved shape and tucked the tip into the base of the branch. It resembled a heart. Claude placed the heart on the stone just above the word “heart.” He blew a kiss toward her name and turned to walk away. He stepped inside of his car for a few moments, eyes shot with fine lines of blood, and pupils wet and cloudy. He started the engine and honked two quick times as he pulled off.

I
can no longer play this game. I’ve got to know more. I’ve got to put this to bed
, he thought. He exited the cemetery and got onto the 405 freeway. He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a piece of folded paper. On it he’d written Owen’s old address, which he’d found on Fatima’s computer. He drove the long distance south to San Pedro.

Claude drove up the street toward a run-down, weather-beaten home in the middle of the block where weeds and dead grass grew wildly. He parked across the street and looked over, imagining Fatima’s car pulling up into the driveway.

He walked up to the broken picket fence. A man exited the front door and walked out onto the porch.

“Can I help you?” asked the young man. He looked to be in his mid-twenties.

“Are you Owen’s old roommate?” Claude asked from the sidewalk.

“Who’s asking?” the man asked with caution, trying his best to make his voice carry.

“I’m Claude Wilson. Fatima’s, I guess you could say, husband.”

The man greeted him with a blank face. “Hello, Mr. Wilson. What can I do for you?”

Claude walked through the front gate and up the dusty walkway. He stood at the base of the steps and looked up. The closer Claude got to the guy, the more the man smelled of gin.

“This might not make sense to you but…” Claude looked away for a moment and then back up toward the young man. “I need to know something about him. I need to see pictures of him doing normal, everyday things. I need to hear you say he was normal, just like you. Just like me. Just a man in love who went too far.”

The young man’s eyes were bloodshot and he looked tired, unkempt and in need of a long hot shower. “Mr. Wilson, Owen was hurting but he didn’t want to lose Fatima. I think he felt he no longer had control because he couldn’t get her to do what he wanted her to do. Which was to settle down with him.”

“Did he talk to you about it? Did you see this coming?” Claude asked with an angry edge to his tone.

The young man pulled out a pack of Marlboros from his pocket. He flicked a Bic lighter and lit one up, putting the cancer stick in his mouth yet still talking as it bounced about. He squinted his eyes as the smoke slowly rose toward the sky. “He talked to me and said he was having trouble letting go. I didn’t interpret that to mean he was capable of murder. I saw no signs that he would buy a gun and go off. He had other women here all the time. But I know no one compared to Fatima. He was very popular, but he never got into other women too deeply. And believe me, there were a lot of them. He even has a new daughter. His daughter has to live her life without him.”