Outcast (15 page)

A chilly reception awaited Tirrell at the garage the next morning. He stuck to his story about being sick. Marquis scoffed but didn't rat him out, although he steered clear of him most of the day, which did not go unnoticed by his coworkers.

“T, what's up with yo' boy?”

Tirrell shook his head. “I don't know, Scotty. He trippin' on somethin'.”

“You two have a lovers' quarrel?” the man quipped.

“Man, you better go somewhere with that.”

Scotty doubled over laughing wildly as Marquis rounded the corner toward the bay they were working in. He quickly fell silent.

“What?” Marquis inquired.

“Nothin',” Scotty replied.

Tirrell went back to the engine he was tuning.

“What the hell did you say about me?”

“Why you so paranoid, Marquis? I didn't say nothin' about you,” Tirrell snapped.

“Then what's so damn funny?”

“Why don't you ask Scotty?”

“I'm askin' you.”

Tirrell pulled his head from under the hood of the Oldsmobile. “You ain't said two words to me all day and now all of a sudden you wanna ask me questions?”

“Forget it, man.” Marquis grabbed the wrenches he came for and turned to leave.

“Punk ass,” Tirrell sneered.

Marquis spun around sharply, dropped the wrenches, rushed over to Tirrell, and shoved him. “I'm sick of your shit.”

“What the hell is your problem, Marquis?”

“You are!”

“You know what, you really are a li'l bitch.”

Marquis swung. Tirrell blocked his fist and clocked him in the jaw, sending him flying backward into a rack of diagnostics tools. The noise brought two other mechanics running to help. Marquis shook them off and stood up on his own.

“Why don't you go run and tell your ol' man that I hit you?”

“I don't have to tell him shit. I'm assistant manager, remember? Get the hell out of here. You're fired.”

Tirrell looked at the men standing around salivating, and jeered. He picked up a towel and wiped the grease off his hands. “To hell with you, Marquis, and this damn job.”

He threw the towel in Marquis's face and went into the locker area to retrieve his things. He discarded his uniform, quickly dressed, and left the shop. He called Alex and asked if he could come over; she told him that he could.

 

 

Alex's bathroom was aglow with candlelight. The sultry vocals of Floetry's “Say Yes” helped set the mood. Tirrell sat sulking in a garden tub of suds with her legs wrapped around his waist while she gently washed his neck, back, and shoulders.

“So, are you ready to talk about what happened with you today?”

Tirrell sighed deeply. “Not really.”

“Do you feel like talking at all?”

“We can talk about anything but my day.”

“Okay, let's see. Tell me something about yourself that I don't already know.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, why do you live with your grandmother? Why don't you have a place of your own?”

Tirrell shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. My grandmother raised me. It's just always been like that.”

“Where's your mother and father?”

“They're dead,” Tirrell answered sullenly. “They died when I was a kid. Sometimes I close my eyes and I try to see my mother's face and I can't anymore. I look at an old picture and wonder what she'd be like if she were still around. I just wanna talk to her sometimes, you know?”

Alex was suddenly sorry she broached the subject.

“What about you? Are your parents still alive?”

“My father died after I graduated college,” Alex answered. “My mom still lives in New York.”

“Are you close?”

“Yeah, I try to go up to see her as much as I can.” Alex reached for a bottle of Riesling that sat outside the tub, and refilled their glasses. “If you had the money and could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

He shrugged his shoulders again. “Never really thought about. Maybe Puerto Rico or someplace like that.”

“Why there?”

“My mother was Puerto Rican. I don't know a whole lot about the culture.”

“Do you have relatives there?”

“Hell if I know. I don't remember my mother ever talkin' about brothers or sisters.”

“Wow.”

“So, where would you go?” he countered, trying to sound less morose.

“I would go to Nigeria; that's where my parents are from. I've only seen pictures, but I've always wanted to go.”

He turned and kissed her. “Maybe we could go there together.”

“I think we should get to know each other a little better before we talk about taking trips and making space in my closet for your clothes.”

“Who said anything about movin' in? You were the one who brought up travelin'. I just thought it would be fun to do somethin' like that together.”

Alex chuckled. “Like a couple?”

“What's so bad about that?”

“Because we're not,” she countered.

“What do you call this?”

“Two people taking a bath together.”

Tirrell pulled her into him. “We could be a couple.”

“Is that what you want?”

“What do you want, Alex?”

“I want to change the subject.”

“Why? I like you. I think you like me. All you gotta do is ‘say yes.'”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” Alex teased breathlessly, and splashed water in his face.

He splashed her back and they laughed.

“How about we start with a road trip to Savannah before we commit to an excursion to the other side of the world, Mr. Ellis?”

“That's cool, but you might have to do all the drivin'.”

“Oh, right. Bobby told me about your DUI.”

“My brother stepped up and the judge took it easy on me, but I gotta go take this stupid class next week before I can get my license back.”

“I thought you and your brother didn't get along.”

“We don't. The only reason he did what he did was because of my grandmother.”

“So, you're her favorite,” Alex teased.

“No.”

“There's nothing wrong with that. Everybody shows favoritism every now and then.”

“Are you your mother's favorite?”

She stroked his erection. “I'm everybody's favorite.”

He titled his head for a kiss and turned over and took her in his arms. Their wet bodies intertwined and slid together like puzzle pieces.

“I think the train wants to come into the station.”

Alex laughed. “What are you—twelve?”

“Do I feel like a twelve-year-old to you?”

Tirrell slid a hand between her legs. Alex's body submitted completely to his touch. She threw her head back and moaned as she opened up, allowing his fingers access. Kissing and licking her neck and sucking her nipples, he worked her into a frenetic climax. Relaxed and content she pushed him away and climbed out of the tub.

“Alex, what are you doin'?”

“The water's getting cold.”

“You just gonna leave me all hard like this?”

She wrapped a towel around herself. “You can either finish without me, or you can join me in bed.”

Tirrell sighed and lay back in the tub. “Damn.”

After Alex left the bathroom he leaned over to dry his hands, grabbed his pants, and pulled out a packet of cocaine. He tapped some on his closed fist and snorted up both nostrils.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up to see Alex.

“Where did you get that?”

“I got it from Bobby.”

She snatched the packet out of his hand and flushed it down the toilet.

“Alex, what the hell?”

“I don't want you putting that shit up your nose. Do you hear me?”

“Alex?”

“I'm serious, Tirrell.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

“No, but apparently you have.”

“What's the matter with you?”

“Get out of my house!”

Stunned by her reaction, Tirrell jumped out of the tub and chased after her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “What's goin' on with you?”

“What are you doing with that shit?”

“It's just a little blow. What's the big deal?”

She jerked away. “If you don't know then you already got a problem.”

“What are you talkin' about? You sell it!”

“I don't use it!”

“I'm not an addict,” Tirrell insisted.

“Then if you want to be with me stop using.”

“Bobby uses. He works for you.”

“I'm not fuckin' Bobby. And if you don't stop, I won't be fuckin' you either.”

“This is really about that dude you were married to, ain't it?”

“What the hell are you talkin' about?”

“Bobby told me about you and his cousin.”

“He shouldn've have done that. That's my business.”

Tirrell reached out to her, trying to hold her. “Alex, I'm not him.”

She attempted to pull away again.

He held on. “I'm not him.”

Realizing the futility of her struggle, she calmed down and he relaxed his grip. “I hate this,” she cried. “I hate losing control like some damn weak-ass female. I promised myself after Ray that I would never let another man get the best of me.”

She furiously rubbed her temples and sat down on the bed. Tirrell eased down next to her. He took her chin in his hand, turned her to face him, and kissed her.

“Don't.”

“I'm not Ray.”

“Fuck you, Tirrell.”

“I'm not gonna die on you, baby.”

He kissed her until he wore down her resistance and slid her bathrobe away from her shoulders. Laying her back on the bed he spread her legs apart, eased on top, and entered her. She gasped. He thrust deeper—slowly—tenderly. He put his mouth to hers, his lips and tongue asserting his desire as their bodies locked in a synchronized rhythm. Alex was more vulnerable in that moment than she'd been since they'd met. Tirrell felt her release, which made his all the more gratifying.

 

In the wee hours of the next morning Tirrell awoke to find that Alex was gone. He rolled out of bed. When he opened the bedroom door he found her seated at the dining room table. She abruptly closed her laptop and pulled out a jump drive she was saving to.

He slipped his arms around her. “What are you doin' up so early?”

“I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd get some work done. I got this party coming up in a couple of weeks and I need to make sure that everything is perfect.”

He kissed her neck. “Come back to bed.”

“In a minute, okay?”

He went to the bathroom to relieve himself and left the door ajar. Moments later Alex came into the bedroom. He spied her through the mirror slipping the jump drive into a small locked hideaway drawer in her bureau and placing the key in her jewelry box.

They climbed back into bed and she laid her head on his chest. Neither closed their eyes.

“Tell me about Ray?” Tirrell asked while gently caressing her back.

She paused. “Why?”

“I wanna know why a woman like you is in a business like this.”

“I like the lifestyle it affords me.”

“But you don't like users.”

“Good salesmen don't have to use the product.”

“So, you doin' this has nothin' to do with this cat you were married to?”

Alex sat up, pulled her knees to her chest, and stared blankly out the window facing the bed. Tirrell propped up on his elbow and comfortingly stroked the inside of her thigh.

“I loved Ray. I met him when I was in college. Bobby was dating a girlfriend of mine. He introduced us. Ray was smooth and cocky—a lot like you. I was really naïve back then. I used to go on drops with him and before I knew it I was doing the drops for him. There wasn't much he could have asked me to do that I wouldn't have done. I didn't get any scholarships or anything, and I needed help with school and with my dad because he was so sick.”

“So, dealing never bothered you?”

“It did at first, but I adapted. Ray was good to me. My parents liked him, and the money came in handy and covered what insurance wouldn't. We got married a few months after my father died. We were together almost three years and I never realized Ray was as strung out as he was. Maybe I did, and I just pretended not to notice because I liked the things he bought me. I didn't know he had a bad heart, though. When he died, Xavier Rivera called to offer condolences and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“So, you inherited the business like some kind of Mafia bride, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“You ever been to jail?”

“No, and I don't intend on going. Came close once a few years ago. That's when I decided to relocate and set up shop here.”

“You carry a gun?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You don't have to answer.”

“I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. But yes, I have a gun and I know how to use it. We live in a dangerous world, Tirrell. A girl's got to protect herself.”

“You ever kill anybody?”

She stared into his eyes intently. “Have you?”