Dear Summer (3 page)

Tommy drove up in the vehicle—it was a black Porsche Cayenne. Scooter was showing a nigga a BAPE hoodie when he looked up and saw Tommy. He turned and faced him.

“What’s good, my nigga?”

Tommy smiled. Scooter was funny to him. He was always hustling, even in prison. He could have ten grand on his books but still be wheeling and dealing. Card games, dice games, loan sharking…you name it, Scooter was into it. He told Tommy that in the ten years he had been locked up, he made more than seventyfive grand.

The kid slid into the hoodie—perfect fit—then handed Scooter a fifty-dollar bill before walking away. Scooter said, “Don’t fuckin’ call me again unless you’re trying to buy wholesale.”

“Wholesale?” the kid asked.

“Twelve hoodies or more. Don’t call me for a fuckin’ fifty-dollar sale.”
“How much will you sell them wholesale for?”
“Forty dollars each.”
“Cool,” the kid said, then hopped into a black Dodge Charger with twenty-inch rims, and scurried off.
Scooter hopped into his Denali and Tommy got in on the passenger side. Scooter gave him a pound. “Nigga, what’s good?” Tommy said.
“Nothing, man. Still tryin’ a make a dollar.” He tossed the fiftydollar bill under the armrest. Tommy noticed several bundles of money under the armrest. He figured it was maybe five or ten thousand.
“I see you doing good for yourself,” Tommy said.
Scooter smiled. “Did you really think I would be doing bad?”
“No, not really, but I came to let you check out this Porsche truck I got. I remember you saying you wanted one.”
“Not that one.”
Tommy looked confused. “Why not this one?”
“This ain’t the new one and the other one is a V8.”
“I can give you this for thirtyfive grand, Scooter. This shit has leather interior and a Bose sound system.”
Scooter laughed. “First of all, I’ve never seen one that didn’t come with leather interior, and that sound system shit don’t impress me.”
“Come on, Scooter. Man, thirtyfive grand, you ain’t gonna to find that nowhere.”
“Tommy, come on, man. Nothing personal, it’s just business. I like what I like, but if you can find me a Cadillac Escalade we can do business. I don’t care what color it is.”
“I got ya.” Tommy opened the passenger door and, before he could get out, Scooter grabbed his arm and made eye contact with him. “Tommy, man, please be careful out there.”
“I got ya, man. Don’t worry about me; I ain’t gonna do nothing stupid.”
“I know, but your associations can get you in trouble, man. You know where we just came from.”
Tommy smiled, gave Scooter a pound then got back into the truck and pulled off.

*****

The white boys had called and said they had three Porsche 911s and a Yukon Denali. Tommy knew the Porsche would sell fast, but the problem was that he had two vehicles that had not sold, and he didn’t want to have too much inventory and not enough money. Tommy had two hot cars that, it seemed, nobody wanted. He was sure he would have sold that Porsche Cayenne to Scooter. The car business was frustrating at times. Tommy thought,
Niggas think I’m Car Max, trying to put in orders for specific make and models.
That shit was annoying. Everybody he dealt with knew the cars were stolen and they would have to take what he could get. He could only tell his supplier what to look for. Sometimes the supplier could get it; sometimes they couldn’t. He drove home thinking that he might have to sell one of the cars at maybe five thousand dollars above cost just to get his money out of it. He didn’t want to, but he would have to sweeten the deal to get money for other inventory.

His phone rang. The caller ID read
Summer
. He didn’t want to answer it, not because he didn’t want to talk to her, but because he was almost home and he would have to get off the phone abruptly.

“Hello.”
“Hey, baby. I was thinking about what we’d talked about.” “What did we talk about?”
“About you being in love with me.”
“And?”
“Tommy, I don’t like when you talk like that.”
“Like what?”
“I’m talking about you talking like you really into me.” Tommy pulled his car into a nearby gas station. He knew that

if he drove into his driveway he couldn’t sit and talk. Angie would want to know what was going on and come out to be nosy. “I don’t like when you say you love me and don’t mean it.”
“I meant what I said.”
“Tommy, I’m not the girlfriend type, and I damned sure ain’t the wife type.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to marry you. You know I live with somebody.”
Summer sighed. “I know you do, but Tommy, for the first time in my life it felt good that someone was into me.”
Tommy laughed. “Come on. You’re kidding, right? You’re a fine-ass woman. I know you’ve had guys come on to you.”
“Yeah, but they only want ass.”
Tommy wished he hadn’t shared his feelings with her, but after good sex he’d been known to blurt out some things that he’d regret later. He knew he truly had feelings for her, as he did Angie. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Tommy, I want to talk about it now. Why do we have to talk tomorrow?”
“Because, I’d just rather talk tomorrow.”
“You’ve got to go home. Right?”
“You know that.”
“That’s why it won’t work.”
“What won’t work?”
“Me and you.”
“Why not? What’s changed?”
“Tommy we’ve shared feelings about each other. That’s what’s changed.
He was getting frustrated. He hit the speakerphone button and placed the phone between his legs.
“I want to be with you.”
“I see now.”
“That’s why I told you don’t say shit if you don’t mean it.”
“I meant what I said.”
“Okay, get rid of your girlfriend.”
“I can’t. It’s just not that simple,” Tommy said. He was afraid. He had never heard Summer sound like this before. She sounded so desperate for love.
“So, I have to play number two?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I have to be the other woman.”
“Summer, you knew I had a woman.”
“Tommy, don’t ever tell a woman you love her unless you’re ready to be with her.”
“I don’t understand,” Tommy said.
“I know. There is a lot you don’t know about women. Goodbye.”

Chapter 4
S

ummer’s friend Tonya had a dark-brown complexion, long flowing hair, and was a size four. She tagged herself on various relationship sites as the Black Barbie. She was very much a gold digger who had dated all types of men, from drug dealers to high-powered bank execs. Money was the only thing that mattered to Tonya. She and Summer sat in the waiting area of the nail salon.

“What do you think, chica…red or burgundy?”
“What are you talking about?”
“My nails, crazy. What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, chica, I know you.”
Summer thought hard about sharing her newfound feelings

about Tommy with Tonya. She had known her for a while and Tonya had never given her a reason to think she’d ridicule her.

“Come on, baby. You can tell me. I mean, nobody knows you here anyway.”
“It’s about Tommy.”
“What about him?”
“I think I like him now.”
“Thank God. You need a man.” Tonya smiled.
“Yeah, but it ain’t that easy. I mean, Tommy has some issues.”
“What’s the problem? He looks okay and I’ve seen his Range Rover and the Benz.” Tonya picked up a
Marie Claire
magazine. “So, I know he has money. By the way, what does he do?”
“I don’t know what he does.”
Tonya’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean you don’t know? He just bought you that new Benz and you don’t know what he does?”
“I’ve never asked him.” Summer felt stupid for not knowing. She’d been seeing him for six months and never asked; not because she didn’t want to know, but because she didn’t want to seem nosy. She figured he was some kind of hustler or else he would have told her. She’d been with guys like him back in Houston. They were the types that you had fun with. They were cool because they would always have money and they took her and her friends out to eat. Nobody knew what they did for sure, but she knew that type rarely had a job. It didn’t matter to her as long as they were fun—and Tommy was fun.
“He’s never told you?”
“No, why?”
“He’s hustling. Just be careful.”
“Thanks, Mama,” Summer said sarcastically.
“Just trying to protect you.”
“Yeah. Just like you protected yourself when you were dating JJ—right adamant against hustlers until he bought you that diamond bracelet for your birthday.”
“That’s beside the point. I’m not with him.”
“Not because he’s a hustler, but because he decided to get married.”
Tonya playfully stuck out her tongue. “It doesn’t matter why I’m not with him.”
Summer’s face became serious. “Tonya, I want to be with this man.”
“Why don’t you get with him? It’s obvious he likes you.”
“Yeah, but he has a woman.”
“Are they married?”
“No.”
Tonya sucked her teeth and rolled her neck. “Hell, he ain’t got no woman then.”
“He lives with her.”
“What?”
Summer felt dumb again. She avoided Tonya’s eyes, stared into space and thought about her dilemma.
“How does he feel about you?”
Summer picked up an issue of
Vogue
. Beyonce was on the cover wearing a fitted yellow dress. Skimming through a few pages, she finally said, “He loves me too.”
“The other bitch has to go then.”
“It’s her house.”
“He needs to move into
your
house.”
“What? We’re not married.”
“Come on, Summer. This is not the seventies. People move in with each other all the time. Get with the program.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think Tommy’s in the game,” Tonya said adamantly.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“I think so. I mean, all the signs are there.”
“But his pops is rich from the settlement with the State of North Carolina for false imprisonment. Remember the man that was with him that day we saw him at the gas station in the Yukon?”
“Yeah, I remember. His father had given me a business card. Said he had some rental properties.”
Summer laughed remembering the day Tommy’s father stared at Tonya’s ass and came up with a lame excuse to give her his business card.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just thinking about the day Tommy’s father had given you his card. He know his old ass has to be at least twentyfive years older than you are.”
Tonya looked away. “J.C. was kind of cool.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just what I said.”
“Girl, you did not fuck Tommy’s father!”
Tonya didn’t respond.

*****

When Tommy’s father opened the door, he looked worried. J.C., a usually well-groomed man, stood in the doorway with unkempt hair. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a week. He let Tommy in and they walked to the kitchen. Tommy sat at the table and J.C. sat at a barstool near the kitchen counter. “Tommy I’m sorry I called you so early, but I had to talk to somebody and you’re the only person that I have now, son.”

“What’s wrong?”
“Tommy, I’m broke.”
“What the hell are you talking about Pops?” Tommy laughed.

There was no way his father could be broke. The state had awarded him $3 million for false imprisonment four years ago. He had invested in real estate at the advice of one of his friends.

J.C. looked away for a moment then turned back and made direct eye contact with Tommy. “Yeah it’s true. I’ve blown all the money, son.”

“No way!”
“When I paid the taxes on the money I was down to 1.5 million, gave you $100,000, and I owed your attorney over $80,000 for representing you. I was left with a little over a million dollars.”
“Okay, and you blew it?”
“Tommy, a million dollars is not a whole lot of money. Hell, you know better than anybody. You’ve had a million dollars before.”
“Pops, I lost my money in the drug game; you don’t sell drugs.”
“I know.”
Tommy stood from the table. “So what the fuck are we going to do now? I mean, you always telling me to keep my nose clean and don’t get into any more shit, and you’ve done gone and blew the fuckin’ money!”
“Son, don’t talk to me like that.”
Tommy looked at his father. He looked broken. J.C. looked as if he wanted to cry. Tommy walked toward the door without saying a word before J.C. called out to him, “Son.”
“What the hell do you want with me?”
“Son, I’m about to lose my house.”
“What the fuck? You’re about to lose the house too?”
J.C. sniffled, holding back his tears. “Yeah son, and two of my other properties.”
Tommy stared at his father for a long time. He wanted to pound him in the face. How in the hell could he be so damn stupid? How could he have fucked up that much money that fast without any bad habits? “Pops, you know what that means then.”
“What?”
“I gotta do what I gotta do.”
“Tommy please don’t do nothing crazy.”
“Everybody tells me this shit but nobody ever comes up with money to help me do a goddamned thing, but everybody always has their fuckin’ hand out.”
“Son, I’m sorry,” J.C. said, then hugged Tommy.
Tommy pushed him away. There was no time for that mushy shit. He had to get busy. He had to sell cars and fast. “How much money do you need?”
“I need thirty grand, then next month I can refinance one of the houses, pull out $75,000 in equity, and hopefully sell the rest to get from under them.”
Tommy turned the doorknob. “I will have the money for you in one week.”
“Thank you, son.”

Chapter 5
S

 

ummer and Tonya were about to leave the nail salon when she received a message on her Blackberry from Tommy’s phone. Summer read it then passed it to Tonya.

 

Dear Summer,

I thought about what you said…that I need to be with you. Just give me some time to sort things out. I mean, I just can’t up and leave her like that, you know. She was there for me when I had just gotten out of prison, so it’s not that easy to cut her off. I called your phone but you didn’t answer. I don’t know. Maybe you don’t want to talk to me or something, but if you get this message, give me a call when you get a chance.
Tommy
Sent via Sprint PCS Blackberry

Tonya passed the phone back to Summer.
“He emails you?”
“Yeah.”
“But he’s a thug.”
“Because he knows I like that. I don’t really like talking on the

phone, wasting my minutes. Shoot me a text or an email. I like emails. I like writing.”

Tonya looked at her strangely. “It’s the writer in me, also the girl. Nothing beats an old fashioned love letter.”
“Don’t tell me he writes you love letters, too.”
“He has.”
“You’re weird.”
“Not really. I just want to be romanced sometimes. What’s wrong with that?”
“So, are you going to get with him?”
“I don’t know, but I’m falling for him, and fast.”