“What?” I asked as I pulled my head up from the pillow.
“You heard what the hell I said! Who are you fucking now or is there some erectile issues going on that you don’t want me to know about?” She was goading me and knew better than to think I’d fall for it.
“Right now isn’t a good time.” I turned my head to face the back of the couch and murmured. “I’m not in the mood for this shit.”
“When is a good time? You haven’t touched me in weeks. I’ve been throwing myself on you and you act as if you don’t give a damn. And last night at dinner, when my parents started making jokes about grandchildren you froze the hell up like someone spoke of murder. And when marriage came up you disappeared from the conversation and didn’t say another word the rest of the evening except for goodnight. I’m no damn fool. Who is she? If you’re going to be out there slinging your dick to all those—” she attempted her first round of shots.
“Hold up! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” My voice was harsher than I intended it to be as I rose from the sofa annoyed by her dramatic antics. “You’re the last one around here who needs to be throwing around accusations. You don’t think I know about your indiscretions?”
My scowl burned her slanted brown eyes. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. I’d never blacked out on her like that before but she was getting out of pocket and shit was getting out of control.
“What happened between you and Dwayne?” Tara stilled in place and her eyes turned haunted. This topic was the last thing she had been expecting. “You think that shit didn’t come back to me?” I continued and my voice rose to a new octave as I stood from the couch. “Now what the fuck type of position do you think that puts me in? Niggas looking at me like you gotta get at ole boy! You wanna know what the truth is? I ain’t give no orders yet because I really don’t give a fuck. What you did was plain ole’ trashy. And I don’t get my hands dirty with fucking trash!”
I smacked the Hongwu period vase that sat on the side table to the floor. I had to hit something in order not to knock the hell out of her. I seethed as I stormed away. I had to get the hell out of there. But not before I caught her mouth swing open as if I had two heads. She wasn't expecting my discovery. Because I sat on the information for months she thought she was getting away with it. I quickly threw on the suit I had worn the night before and left her Brentwood Heights apartment.
I drove to Marina Del Rey where I’d bought a high-rise earlier in the year. I’d just had it furnished. I still had my house right outside of Pasadena but I needed a place where no one could find me, a place of escape and solace. Here, there was no telephone. If I needed to make a call, I could do it from one of my cells.