Crazy Love (13 page)

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Authors: Amir Abrams

BOOK: Crazy Love
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“Kamiyah,” the Witch says, looking at me. “This wasn't meant to turn into a fight.”
“You coulda fooled me. Just when I thought we might make it a whole day without any problems, you come with this okey doke.”
“
Okey doke?
Young lady, who do you think you're talking to? See, this is what keeps you in trouble—your mouth.”
Daddy looks over at me, giving me a please-be-nice look. The LV logos on a new Louis bag start floating around in my head. I pull it together real quick. “Mom, I'm really not tryna be disrespectful. But you don't understand.”
“Oh, trust me. I understand a whole lot more than you think, Kamiyah. I was your age once.”
“Yeah, and you know how long ago that was? It's the twenty-first century, and you still act like you're in the seventies. You can't relate to the teens today. You couldn't even relate to Erika when she was here.”
“Kamiyah, that's enough,” Daddy warns.
“Daddy, why can't I ever express how I feel? Why do I always have to be the one to watch what I say when she doesn't? If it's about respect, you have to give it to get it. And sometimes I don't feel like she respects me.”
“Um, excuse you. Don't stand there and talk around me as if I'm not in the room.
She
is sitting right here. And
she
happens to be your mother, young lady. You're right, you do very well in school. Your father and I are proud of you. And we
both
want to make sure you stay on track. I'm not saying you can't be with Sincere. All I'm saying is, don't be so wrapped up in him.”
“Mom, I'm not.”
Sorry lady, it's a little too late
. “Can I please be excused?”
She glances at her watch, then flicks her hand for me to go.
“Thank you,” I say, walking over to Daddy and kissing him on the cheek. I say good night to the Wicked Witch.
“Um, aren't you going to kiss your mother good night?” Daddy asks, eyeing me.
“Nope,” I say, walking outta the room. “I'd rather not.”
“Kamiyah,” Daddy calls out.
“Erik, don't,” I hear her saying as I climb the stairs.
15
S
incere opens the passenger-side door for me, then shuts it once I'm all the way in. He gets in on the driver's side, puts on his seat belt, then starts the engine.
“So, where are you taking me?” I ask, looking over at him as he backs out of my driveway, then drives off toward Halsey Place. He bears around the traffic circle, staying on Montrose until he gets to South Orange Avenue, then makes a left.
He grins. “Don't worry about that, pretty lady. Ya man's got this. You just sit back and relax, a'ight?”
I smile. “Fine with me.”
“How was your day?” he asks as he stops at a stop sign. I tell him it was good. That I couldn't wait for it to be over. I ask him how his was. “It was okay. I have a mandatory Journey of Transformation class that's like seventy minutes long, twice a week, and it's kind of interesting. But today, for some reason, I had a hard time staying awake in it.”
I laugh. “Oh, poor thing. So what's the class about?” I ask, shifting my body in my seat so I can look at him. He tells me the class is about exploring different religions and the transformative journeys people experience. “Oh, okay. Sounds interesting.”
“It is.”
“Are you religious?” I ask.
He smiles. “Let's see. I went to a Catholic all-boys prep school. And now I attend a Catholic university. One would think I'd be very religious.”
I laugh. “So, I'll take that to mean that you're not.”
“Not really. I mean, I am to an extent. I do pray. And I believe there is a higher power. But I'm not all fanatic about it. Do you believe there's a higher power?”
I shrug. Truth is, I
believe
in love and I
believe
that Sincere and I are meant to be together—forever. I
believe
I can do anything I set my mind on. I
believe,
without a doubt, that I am going to be a professional dancer. And I
believe
my mother hates me. But other than that, as far as religion goes, I don't know what I believe in. “I guess. I mean, I never really gave it much thought.”
He looks over at me thoughtfully. “Do you believe in forgiveness?”
OhmyGod, why is he asking me this craziness?
You do me wrong, I'm sorry—say what you want—you gotta get got, then I can work on forgiving you for what you did to me. I decide to keep this to myself. “Yes,” I tell him, smiling. “I feel like hearing some music.”
He smiles at me, turning on the radio. “What do you wanna hear?”
Anything that's gonna get us off this conversation
. “I don't care. Whatever.”
He checks to see what beats are playing on Hot 97, then switches to Power 105.1 before pressing a button for the CD player. Drake's “Headlines” blares through the speakers. I bob my head to the beat, staring out the window as Sincere merges onto the Garden State Parkway, heading north. When J. Cole's “Lost Ones” starts playing, I lay my head back on the headrest and close my eyes.
Sincere touches my knee. “You all right over there?”
I look over at him and smile. “Yeah.”
“What were you over there thinking about?”
“You.”
He smiles, taking my hand in his. “About what?”
About what I'ma do if you ever try to leave me.
“I'm thinking about how much you mean to me. About how much I love you, and don't ever wanna lose you.”
He smiles. “You won't, baby.” He gets off at the Bloomfield Avenue exit. “I ain't going anywhere. You're everything I could ever ask for in a girl.”
I smile. “Awww, for real?”
“Yeah. You're not only sexy as hell, you're smart, funny, and mad talented.”
And jealous!
I grin. “Sincere, you're so sweet. I can't imagine my life without you in it. I'm so lucky to have you.”
“Nah, I'm the lucky one, Miyah; for real. You got me wide open, baby.”
I bring his hand up to my lips and kiss it. “Umm, Sincere. Where are we going? You do know I have to be home by ten, right?”
“I know,” he says, turning onto Allwood. “We're almost there.”
When he pulls into Joe's Crab Shack, I start smiling. OMG, I love lobster and shrimp!
Once we get out of the car, Sincere reaches for my hand and we make our way into the restaurant. The place is packed! And it's very noisy. I watch as the dancing servers do some kinda cha-cha-cha dance routine. We're told it's going to be an hour wait. Sincere gives the hostess his cell number so they can text him when our table is ready.
He grabs my hand once we get outside. We decide to walk through Clifton Commons, the outdoor mall area, and stop inside Barnes & Noble while we wait. “You wanna go somewhere else to eat?”
I shake my head. “No. Not really. But if you do, we can.”
“Nah, I'm good. You good?”
As long as I'm with you
. I nod, looping my arm through his. “Yup.”
The hostess texts Sincere's phone the minute we walk into Barnes & Noble that our table is ready, so we turn around and head back to the restaurant. Now the place is packed beyond belief. And the noise level is ridiculous. It's bad enough I can't even hear myself think, let alone have a conversation with Sincere.
We share a bucket of shrimp. Then for our meal, Sincere orders the Lobster Daddy Feast and I order the Crab Daddy Feast. There are two birthday parties going on, so there's a lot of chanting going on. And every forty-five minutes, although it seems like every ten to fifteen minutes, the waiters come out dancing. It's kinda cute at first, but after like the second round it gets real old. But all you can do is laugh at how some of these waiters are dancing. Hot messes! Anywaaayz, we have outside seating, which is kinda cool. The heaters are on full blast, though, and I am starting to sweat a little. It's kinda chilly out, but overall, it's a nice night out. Sincere and I try to talk but we practically have to yell, so we just stare at each other, smiling and laughing at each other with these big bibs around our necks, getting all messy and whatnot from the crabs and lobsters we're eating. For dessert I share some of his chocolate cake.
After a while I glance at my watch. It's 8:35
P.M.
I excuse myself to go wash my hands, and when I return to the table, Sincere goes to wash his.
“You ready to bounce up outta here? We can go for a ride or back to my house if you want,” Sincere says, coming back to the table and flagging down the waiter.
“Yeah, sure,” I say as he pays the ninety-dollar bill. I reach into my bag and pull out ten bucks for the tip.
“Nah, you good,” Sincere says, handing me back the money. We get back into our jackets. Once outside, I reach for his hand.
“Thanks for dinner,” I tell him as we walk toward the car. “Although I thought I was gonna lose my hearing up in there, I really enjoyed it.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I enjoyed it, too. So what you wanna do? You wanna catch a movie while we're here, or go back to my house?”
I tell him, “I'd rather go back to your house, since I have to be home by eleven.”
“Sounds good to me,” he says, unlocking the truck, then opening the passenger side for me to get in.
I dig in my bag and pull out a pack of gum, offering him a stick. Sincere checks his phone for any messages, then starts texting someone. I pull out my phone and do the same thing, trying to keep myself occupied so I won't ask him WHY and WHO he has to text right at this very minute.
Maybe he's texting his mom or dad
, I think as he starts backing out of the parking space. “OhmyGod, I'm so stuffed,” I say.
He says he's still hungry.
I laugh. “That's because you're greedy.”
He laughs. “I'm a growing man.”
Funkmaster Flex from Hot 97 is on the radio.
Ugh! He is so annoying to me.
Luckily, Sincere changes the station before I can say something. He settles on KISS-FM, then heads toward the Garden State Parkway. We listen to R & B music on the ride back to his house. Every so often we steal glances at each other, smiling. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. Tell him how much I love him. He reaches over and grabs my hand. Tells me how much I mean to him. I am smiling. And I am melting inside. It is times like this that I feel—no, know—that I will
never
let Sincere leave me.
16
“Y
ou wanna go for a walk?” Sincere asks, standing up and stretching. It's Saturday afternoon and we've been lounging downstairs in Sincere's theater/game room watching DVDs for most of the day. This is the first time we've spent any time together since Wednesday night. I mean, sure, we've seen each other for an hour or so, but that's nothing like spending the whole day, or at least most of it, together.
I shrug. “I guess. Isn't it kinda cold out, though?”
“Yeah, a little,” he says, walking over to me. “But I'll keep you warm.” He leans in and kisses me. I kiss him back. And it doesn't take long before his tongue and mine are twirling together. I close my eyes and lose myself in the moment. I could stay wrapped up in Sincere's love all day. He pulls away when his phone starts buzzing, causing a thump in my heart. It's a text. He glances at the screen. I try to act uninterested. Try to shift my attention back to the movie, but I am distracted with thoughts of wanting to know who the text is from. His phone buzzes again. This time he texts back. I count in my head. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . .
His phone buzzes
again
!
“Dang, who's that blowing up your phone like that?” I ask, trying really, really hard to keep it together. To not jump to any conclusions or say anything that might set it off up in here; especially when I know his parents are upstairs somewhere.
He tells me it's one of his boys.
“Oh . . .” I wanna say more. I wanna
know
more. But the little voice in my head says,
Less is more
. The less I ask, the more I'll eventually find out.
Less is more! Less is more!
I repeat it over and over in my head, watching as he texts back. He sets his phone down on the pool table, then goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I stare at it. Try to count how many seconds it'll take for me to race over there to check his phone and get back to my seat before he finishes. I listen as he takes a leak. Consider my options—get caught or get away with it. But the toilet flushes. Then the water from the faucet runs. I decide getting caught isn't an option. So I sit still.
“You ready?” he asks, walking out of the bathroom, drying his hands with a paper towel.
“Yeah.” I stand up. He shuts off the TV, grabs his cell and checks it, then heads toward the stairs. I follow behind him.
His mother is sitting in the living room, watering plants and removing dead leaves. Sincere opens the hall closet and grabs our coats. “Ma, Miyah and I are gonna go for a walk. You want something while we're out?”
She looks up from what she's doing. “Walk? It's kind of chilly out.”
“Hi, Missus Lewis.”
She smiles at me. “Hi, baby. How are your parents?”
“They're good.”
“Ma, it's not too bad out,” Sincere says, handing me my coat. I slip it over my shoulders and slide my arms in. She watches as he slips into his jacket. She doesn't ask where we're walking to. Unlike my mother, who feels the need to know every little detail of my life.
“We'll be back.”
“Okay,” she says, busying herself with the large arrangement of tropical plants she has throughout the room.
We walk hand in hand through his development. Surprisingly, it's not as cold as it was at ten thirty this morning when I drove over here instead of taking my butt to dance. Oh well. Anywaaayz . . . it's almost two in the afternoon and actually much warmer than usual for this time of the year.
“I really like your mom,” I tell him as we make our way around the neighborhood of large houses and mini-mansions.
He smiles. “She likes you, too.”
“That's good to know, since I'm going to be her daughter-in-law one day.”
He lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around me. “Oh, so you wanna be my wifey?”
Wrong answer. “I'm going to be your wife. Not
wifey
. I have no interest in
playing
wife. I'm going to
be
the wife; big difference.”
He laughs. “Right, right.” We turn onto South Orange Avenue. “But can you cook?”
“Nope.”
He stops in his tracks. “Wait. You don't know how to cook?”
I shrug. “Not really. It's not something I had to know. My mother either cooks or we order in.”
“Well, uhhh . . . if you wanna marry me, then you're gonna have to learn how to cook.” He rubs his stomach. “'Cause ya man's gotta eat.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Nah, I'm only playing.”
I playfully hit him in the arm. “You better be. Shoot, you're gonna play for the NBA one day, anyway. And I'm gonna be a world-famous dancer. So we'll be able to afford a personal chef.”
“Yeah, true that. Then when you start having my babies, you can stay home and learn how to cook.”
Ohmygod, Sincere wants me to have his babies! We'll have some really cute kids with good hair and nice straight teeth, and hopefully with his dimples.
I smile. “Ummm, correction. That's baby, as in one. Not
babies
. I'm not tryna have my shape all jacked up. This body's gonna be my moneymaker. And for the record, we're gonna hire a nanny.”
He frowns. “Nah, I don't want my son being raised by some old lady. He needs to be cared for by his moms.”
I laugh. “She doesn't have to be an old lady. Besides, who says you'll have a son? It could be a girl.”
“Then we'll have to keep trying until I have a son,” he says, pulling me in closer to him. We stop for a minute and kiss. His warm, soft lips make me feel weak. OMG, Sincere knows he can kiss his butt off! It doesn't take long for us to start French-kissing all out in public. Now if me and my girls were walking by and saw someone else doing what Sincere and I are doing, we would be like,
Ewww
, then we'd yell out,
Go get a room, freaks
. But, since it's me and Sincere, that doesn't apply. When we finally pull apart, I feel light-headed.
I look up at him, all dreamy-eyed and whatnot. “I love you so much, Sincere,” I say softly.
“I love you, too,” he says, taking my hand again. We continue down South Orange Avenue until we get to Grove Park. There are a few joggers and walkers out, getting in their afternoon exercise. Sincere and I walk along the path that wraps around the park, laughing and talking and enjoying the weather.
The whole day is going good . . . no, great! Well, that's until Sincere decides he wants to walk down to Village Pizzeria to order a cheesesteak to take back to his house. Now, my gut tells me to say no. I don't know why. I mean, aside from the fact that I don't like the food there, I feel like something is about to happen. I can't put my finger on it. But I don't want Sincere thinking I'm acting all paranoid and whatnot, so I keep my mouth shut and keep walking.
We're one block from the pizzeria and the closer we get to it, the stronger this feeling's getting. And then before we get to the pizzeria, I see
her
—the ho who's always up on Facebook, posting and tagging and poking up on Sincere's wall, and my heart skips. No, it leaps into my throat. She's up ahead, crossing the street and walking into the pizzeria. I cut my eye over at Sincere to see if he sees her, too. If he does, I can't tell.
“Let's, um, let's go somewhere else,” I say, tugging on his arm. “I don't want Italian.”
“Nah, I do,” he says as we cross the street. “We can stop in one of the other spots to get you what you want after I place my order, a'ight?”
I nod, holding my breath. “Okay.”
As soon as we walk into the pizzeria, there she is. Standing at the counter with her back to us, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and wedge heels. She glances over her shoulder, and I know right then . . . it's about to be a problem.
“Heeey, sexy man,” she sings out, grinning. She turns to face us. I take her all in as she acts as if I'm not standing here. She has on a cute vintage denim jacket. I can't hate on the chick; from what I can see, she has a nice body. But I don't like her. Her smile is dripping with hot, steamy nastiness. And I'm convinced she wants my man. Or she's already had him. Either way, I'm not feeling it one bit. And I'm about to check this ho real quick if Sincere doesn't.
Be still. First wait to see what pops off.
Sincere laughs it off. “Oh, hey, Lana. Wassup?”
Hold on, girl. Don't say anything yet.
“You,” she says, all flirty-like. She cuts her eyes over at me, twisting her lips up. “How you been?”
“Good,” he says, acting like he's forgotten that I'm here with him. And obviously forgetting he has a girl—
me!
I clear my throat. Fold my arms across my chest.
“Oh, damn. My bad. Lana, this is Kamiyah. Kamiyah, Lana.”
Mmmph . . . he didn't even introduce me as his girl. What's up with that?
“Hey,” I say, eyeing this messy heifer. But I'm still keeping my cool.
“Mmmhmm,” she says, barely looking at me. She turns back to Sincere. “So, annnyway, why haven't I heard from you? I miss you. We really need to
stay
in touch. And not just on Facebook, boo. We need to kick it, like old times.”
Okay. This skank is straight up disrespecting me. And Sincere is standing here and hasn't opened his mouth to say one damn thing to check her. I already warned him about this kinda crap.
“Ummm, listen up,
boo.
You better back the hell up. You've been standing here disrespecting me from the minute we walked through the door. And I'm not the one. I let you get that off for a minute, but be clear,
trick
. My man won't be kicking a damn thing with you. But if you keep disrespecting me, I'll be
kicking
your azz.”
She laughs. “Yeah, right. Picture that. Umm, Sincere, you better tell her.”
“He better tell me
what
?”
“C'mon, y'all, chill,” Sincere says, shifting his eyes around the restaurant. He spots a few heads from his school. They speak as they walk by, slowing down to catch the happenings. He gives them head nods. “Lana, why you gotta always play? Damn.”
She smirks. “Oh, I'm playing? Sincere, you already know what it is.”
“Well, I don't, ho,” I snap, placing my hand up on my hip. “So why don't
you
let me in on it.”
“Sincere, you better tell this—”
Attack when they least expect it.
Every muscle in my body tenses. And I don't wait for her to finish saying whatever she was gonna say. And I don't wait for Sincere to open his mouth to say anything that he shoulda already said. I lunge at her, wrapping her hair around my hands real tight, then swing her around the restaurant. Yes, I catch her off guard and I air her scalp out. She's screaming and trying to fight me off of her.
“Get your hands off my hair and fight me!” she yells, swinging her arms wildly.
She keeps trying to fight me off . But I got a strong grip on her hair and I'm swinging her around like a merry-go-round. I can tell I'm starting to make her dizzy. “You want my man, trick?! You think you can disrespect me to my face? Well, guess what? I'm not the one.”
“Aaaah . . . get off of me. If he's your man, I can't tell.. . . aaaaah . . . ohmygod . . . Sinceeeeere, get this crazy ho off of me. . .”
I'm not sure when Sincere jumped in. But he is trying to pry my hands out of her hair. He is yelling at me to let go. But I am holding on with all my strength. When I finish ripping hair out of this ho's scalp, they'll be calling her Patches. I swing her into tables, knocking things over. Swing her into a wall. Customers are scattering out of the way. She tries to grab for my hair, but it is pulled back in a tight bun. I'm so glad I didn't wear my hair out like this tramp. Her nails dig into my hands, then my face. But I don't care.
“Yo, Miyah, let her go,” Sincere says, grabbing me from behind. “C'mon. Stop it.” He grabs my wrists. Someone comes behind her and tries to pull us apart. But she isn't going anywhere until I decide to let go of her hair. I yank until she is screaming at the top of her lungs for them to get me off of her. I show her no mercy. Throwing herself at my man—I don't think so!
Sincere's trying to peel my fingers back, but he isn't able to. I have her long hair twirled around my hand like a jump rope. There is so much commotion going on in here that it hypes me up even more. I keep swinging and yanking and pulling her head and hair. She keeps screaming and swinging her fists. But she can't get a good hit in. I knee her in the stomach. Finally it takes six people to break us up.

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