Outcast (17 page)

Tirrell shook his head and leaned back.

“You startin' to chase that rabbit now—ain't cha, boy.” Calvin laughed. “The first time is always the sweetest. You ain't gon' never get this one again.”

It didn't take long for them to polish off all twelve bottles of beer, and they smoked enough to be considered sufficiently “tweaked.” With his defenses relaxed, Tirrell slipped off his jacket, closed his eyes, and savored the bliss.

Calvin went to the bathroom. When he came back he found his girlfriend topless and on her knees between Tirrell's legs. She had worked his zipper down and fished out his penis.

“What you doin'?” Tirrell muttered.

“Take it easy, baby,” she whispered. “Stacey's gonna take real good care of you.”

“Hell, yeah,” Calvin encouraged her. “Do that shit.”

A part of Tirrell fought to resist, but not the part the woman now held in her mouth. Turned on by her performance, Calvin dropped his trousers and joined in. Even in a disoriented state this was a little more than Tirrell wanted to deal with.

“Stop,” Tirrell heaved, and pushed at her.

“Suck it, girl,” Calvin said enthusiastically.

“I said stop,” Tirrell yelled, shoving the woman more forcefully.

She fell backward, bumping her head on the end of the coffee table. “What the hell!”

Calvin pulled up his pants. “Hey, man. We just havin' a li'l fun.”

“Just back the fuck up off me,” Tirrell slurred. He wobbled upright.

“Calvin, just get your money and put this limp-dick asshole out.”

“Limp dick!”

The woman leapt to her feet. “That's what I said.”

Tirrell pulled his clothes together and grabbed his jacket. “Y'all a bunch of damn freaks. I'm outta here.”

Calvin seized Tirrell's arm. “You ain't leavin' here 'til I gets my money.”

The woman reached for his jacket, trying to get into his pockets. Tirrell spun around wildly and knocked her to the floor. Calvin punched him in the back, nearly sending him to his knees. Tirrell's violent fury ignited. He elbowed the man in the face, took a handful of his locks, and rammed his head into the wall.

“Shit! You done broke my nose,” the man yelled.

“You motherfucker,” the woman screamed.

She scrambled to her feet again and retrieved a small-caliber handgun from under the sofa cushions. The first shot she fired whizzed by Tirrell's ear and lodged in the doorjamb behind him.

She took aim again and Tirrell picked up an empty beer bottle and threw it at her. He tore out of the house before either had a chance to retaliate. He ran until he was back in familiar territory. His heart raced and he was sweating profusely. Lightheaded and woozy, he fell against a lamppost for balance. Betty's house was just around the next corner.

He knocked instead of using his key. A lump formed in his throat when she opened the door and he looked into her eyes.

“Tirrell.”

She welcomed him home without question. There was no judgment.

Whether or not he intended to honor his promise, the next morning Tirrell found himself at church, seated several pews behind his grandmother, who sat next to Anne Crawl. Marquis wasn't there. Thankfully Tirrell still had a few things he could wear left hanging in the closet of his bedroom. Being in church again was disquieting; still, he sought absolution. Tears formed in his eyes at the thought of possibly losing his life the day before. Shaking it off, he looked around, half expecting to see Tasha—he hoped he would. He caught a glimpse of Kevin and Pat on the other side of the sanctuary trying to quiet Micah, who seemed to be bursting at the seams to get to his uncle.

Tirrell felt a tap on his shoulder as he flicked at the loose lint that clung to his pants. He was floored when he looked up to see who it was.

“Alex?”

“Is there enough room for me?”

He stood and allowed her to squeeze by. A beautiful woman dressed in a form-fitting two-piece suit was bound to attract attention. Her legs alone stirred the interest of several of the men around her.

“What are you doin' here?”

“Isn't this where sinners belong?”

Tirrell smiled and shook his head in disbelief. “How did you know I'd be here?”

“I just assumed you would be. Besides, if I want your grandmother to like me, I gotta put forth a good effort, right?”

A crescendo of music signifying the beginning of the service swept through the edifice as parishioners stood to their feet. It didn't take a mind reader to see what Betty was thinking when she turned to see Alex standing next to Tirrell. Alex took Tirrell's hand and winked.

After service Micah broke from his parents and bolted over to his uncle. Betty made a beeline to him too.

“Hey, li'l man, what's good?”

Alex smiled. “Who's this handsome boy?”

“This is my nephew, Micah.”

Tirrell turned to see Kevin and Pat walking toward them and remembered Alex's warning. His cheerfulness dissipated as his worlds collided. He handed Micah off to his father.

“Aren't you going to introduce us to your lady friend?” Kevin asked.

Tirrell swallowed nervously. “Alex, this is Kevin and my sister-in-law, Pat.”

Alex nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Pat responded. “Did you enjoy the service?”

“You know, I really did. I am going to have to come back.”

“We should get goin',” Tirrell injected.

“Oh, no.” Betty sighed. “I thought we'd be together today—just the family.”

Tirrell took Alex's arm and squeezed. “We have to go. Remember all that stuff you said you had to do that I was supposed to help you with?”

“Right,” Alex agreed. “Maybe we can get together another time.”

Tirrell rubbed his hand over Micah's head and tickled him. “I'll see you later, li'l man.” He kissed Betty's cheek. “I'm sorry, Noonie. Thanks for lettin' me stay last night. Later, Kev.”

He hurried Alex out of the sanctuary, leaving them all standing there baffled.

“What was that about?” Pat queried.

“Whatever it is, it's got something to do with that woman,” Betty sneered.

Kevin scratched his beard. “I know her from somewhere. I just can't put my finger on where.”

Pat looked at Betty. “Are you all right?”

Betty shook her head. “Lord, help me. I know we're in church, but there's just somethin' about that woman I don't like.”

 

 

“Let's go,” Tirrell demanded as he and Alex jumped into the Yukon.

“Why were you in such a hurry to get me out of there?”

He leaned into her. “You threatened my family. You think I want you to spend any time around them?”

“You were the one who invited me to come to church.”

“Yeah, what the hell was I thinkin'.”

“You sure you don't want to go running back to your grandmother's apron?”

“You leave her out of this, or I swear—”

“What? What will you do, Tirrell?”

“You know what, I don't need this. I'm out.” Tirrell reached to open his door and Alex hit the power locks to stop him.

“I'm sorry. We just got out of church. I shouldn't be acting like this.”

“Damn right you shouldn't be.”

“And I'm sorry you feel I threatened your family.”

“You did threaten them.”

Alex sighed. “Can we just let that go?”

Tirrell shook his head and scratched his brow.

“I'm thirty-three,” Alex blurted.

“What?”

“You wanted to know how old I am. I'm thirty-three.”

Tirrell lay back on the headrest and took a moment to calm down. “So, why are you tellin' me this now?”

“I stayed up half the night waiting for you. You never called. I was . . . I was worried.”

“You were worried?”

“Look, this is hard for me. I like you. I really do. I wouldn't have come to church if I didn't . . .”

“If you didn't what?”

She sighed. “I don't like feeling what I'm feeling. I don't want you to go.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don't want to fight. This all just scares me a little, you know.”

“It scares me too.”

She kissed him.

“You need to stop,” Tirrell said. “We're still in the church parking lot.”

“Can you think of a better place for consummation?”

“Watch it. Your horns are showin'.”

“As soon as we get back to my place I'll show you my tail, too.”

“Alex.”

“Please. Let me make it up to you.”

Everyone has an Achilles heel. If it came right down to it she knew exactly how to exploit Tirrell's, and she wouldn't hesitate a second to do so.

The Georgian Ballroom of the majestic Biltmore Hotel with its crystal chandeliers, Palladian windows, and marble floors served as the facility for the extravagant event that Alex had been planning for months. Over the years Atlanta had come to be known as a premiere mecca of R&B and hip-hop entertainment. Red carpet events were drawn by its Southern hospitality and big-city charm. No expense was spared for her renowned client's birthday celebration. She and Travis checked into their suites early in the day to ensure that every meticulous detail had been attended to.

Accompanying sumptuous entrées of steak, lobster, and chicken dinners would be bottles of Cristal for the men and boxes of Godiva chocolates for the women. And the entertainers scheduled to perform were sure to please the most discriminating listener. The invitation-only gala would be the talk of any- and everybody in the know.

“Excuse me,” Alex said, trying to get the attention of one of the workers. “This table linen has a stain on it.”

The woman closely examined the tablecloth. “You can barely even see it.”

“I can see it,” Alex barked. “Now change it.”

The woman pursed her lips and moved to make the change.

Alex then addressed the florist. “You. Put another centerpiece on this table. These orchids are wilted.”

“Alex, calm down before you give yourself a stroke,” Travis admonished.

“Don't tell me to calm down. You know how I get when I'm working. If it's not right, I'm going to say something.”

“You don't want these people walking out of here before the guests arrive, do you?”

“They wouldn't dare, if they know what's good for them.”

“Well, saying
please
and
thank you
would go a long way.”

“How about I just say
unemployment
or
green card?
Would that get their attention?”

“Pump your breaks, Alex. Everybody's doing their job. We got at least three hours before anybody is supposed to get here. Why don't you go up to your room and relax. Maybe get Tirrell to work off some of your stress.”

“Remind me to fire your ass when this is over,” Alex snapped.

“You wouldn't make it without me,” Travis countered.

“If it's all the same to you, I'll just stay here and make sure everything gets done the way I want it to.”

“You're the boss.”

“Damn right.”

 

 

Paparazzi descended on the hotel as the stars came out to play. Alex dazzled in a gold-beaded mini Nalini Vermuri and led the applause when the Grammy-winning Usher and his companion stepped out of their limousine.

“Alex, the place looks great.”

“Nothing but the best,” she said enthusiastically.

“Are Terry and Jimmy here?”

“Right over there.” Pleased with herself, Alex looked around and enjoyed her victory.

Tirrell slipped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. “You did an amazing job, baby.”

She moved away uneasily. “Tirrell, don't. Not here.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing. I'm just very busy.”

“Fine,” he sulked.

She stroked his cheek. “C'mon, don't pout. I'll make it up to you later when we get back to the room, okay? By the way, Mr. Ellis, did I tell you that you look very handsome and dapper tonight?”

Tirrell spun around and mugged in his tailored Armani suit. “Well, you know. I gotta represent.”

“I see somebody over there I need to talk to. Behave yourself, baby.” With that, Alex whisked away to the other side of the room.

Tirrell shook his head. “Behave myself? What the hell does she think I'm gonna do—pee on the carpet?” He stepped over to the bar.

“What can I get you?”

“Corona,” Tirrell said. “On second thought, make it Grey Goose with a twist. May as well make the most of this Cinderella bullshit.” When he turned around he bumped into Tasha, almost spilling his drink on her.

“Tirrell, what are you doin' here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Tirrell glanced over her shoulder and found his answer. “Oh, I see. That's your boy,
Dickey.
”

“His name is Rickey,” Tasha asserted.

“Looks like a dick to me,” Tirrell sneered.

“He's here for a client.”

“Client?”

“Rickey's an entertainment lawyer.”

“Damn, girl. You look good,” Tirrell noted, tracing the spaghetti straps of her dress with his fingers.

She blushed and lowered her gaze. “Thank you. So do you.”

“I'd ask you how you've been, but I can see you must be doin' all right for yourself.”

“Rickey's a nice guy, believe it or not.”

“I wasn't talkin' about him.”

“Can I get you something, miss?” the bartender asked.

“Long Island.”

When she reached for her drink Tirrell spied the diamond tennis bracelet he'd given her. It made him smile.

“How's Miss Betty?”

“She's good.”

“She stopped comin' to the shop. I know she hates me for what I did.”

“How do you know I told her?”

Tasha shot Tirrell a look that suggested she knew that he had. “I should be gettin' back to Rickey.”

Tirrell glanced over her shoulder again to see her date engaged in a lively conversation with someone else. “He doesn't look like he's missin' you. So, why don't we go somewhere and talk?”

“We are talkin'.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don't think it's a good idea. We don't really have anything else to say to each other.”

He reached out and caressed her bare arm. “Tasha, c'mon. I'm not gonna do anything to you.”

She turned around to see if Rickey Hicks was looking in her direction, and followed Tirrell to the terrace.

“It's a little chilly out here,” she said.

He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Is that better?”

“Armani? Kind of pricey for a mechanic.”

“Who said that's all I know how to do?”

“It just doesn't seem like you, that's all.”

“Maybe this is the new me.”

Tasha took a sip of her drink. “So, who is the
new
you here with?”

“You.” Tirrell leaned in for a kiss.

She backed away. “What are you doin'?”

He pressed his cheek up against hers. “It hasn't been so long that you forgot, has it? I know a lot of shit went down between us, but we had a good thing once. We could again.”

“No, Tirrell. We can't.”

“If you wanted to move on you wouldn't be wearin' my bracelet.”

He leaned in again. This time the kiss was reciprocal.

“So, this is where you ran off to.”

They jerked apart and turned to see Alex.

“I don't believe we've met,” Alex said.

“Um . . . this is Tasha,” Tirrell injected. “She's an old friend.”

“Hi, Tasha. I'm Alex. Tirrell's
new
friend.”

Tasha slipped Tirrell's jacket off and handed it back to him. “I think I'd better get back inside.”

“Don't rush off on my account. Looks like the two of you were just getting reacquainted.”

Tasha breezed by, leaving Alex and Tirrell alone.

Alex stepped to Tirrell and wiped a smudge of lipstick from his mouth with her thumb. “The party's inside.”

He brushed her hand away. “You know what, I think I'm gonna just hang out here for a while. I'll be in later.”

“Tirrell, I don't think your
old friend
is coming back.”

He pulled a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket. “Can I have a little time alone, please?”

“Fine.” Alex reluctantly stepped back inside.

Tirrell closed his eyes and leaned against the building. The nicotine in the cigarette wasn't as agreeable as he'd hoped it would be.
You startin' to chase that rabbit now, ain't cha, boy.

 

 

“Travis, have you seen Tirrell?”

“I didn't know I was supposed to be babysitting.”

“Don't be a smart ass.”

Alex scanned the ballroom and saw Tasha, so she knew that Tirrell wasn't with her. She went back to the terrace to check. He was gone.

 

 

Saturday night traffic in Midtown was as lively as ever. Tirrell shoved his hands in his pockets and walked briskly up West Peachtree Street. Knowing what he was looking for, but not sure where he'd find it, he rounded the corner of Cypress Street and unearthed a treasure of nefarious intent.

He stood rubbing his hands together and observed the cars that cruised by and slowed for a better look. After a time it felt as if he were on exhibit—like a puppy in a pet store window waiting for someone to claim him.

The prowlers who paraded up and down the block, stroking themselves provocatively, broadcast exactly what was for sale. Tirrell studied their scurrilous behavior for as long as he could before shaking his head and walking away. When he crossed the street he heard a horn blaring to get his attention; he didn't look up, he didn't turn around.

“Tirrell!”

He was alarmed when he heard his name. “Scotty?”

An F-150 truck pulled up to the curb. The sandy-haired man leaned out the window. “What the hell are you doin' down here?”

“I uh, missed the last bus,” Tirrell responded.

“Bus? Forget that, man. C'mon.”

Tirrell jumped in and they took off. “Thanks, Scotty.”

“Man, look at you. What have you been up to? You hit the lottery?”

“No, I was at a party. What are you doin' down here?”

He scratched the scraggly hairs on his chin and laughed. “I was supposed to be meetin' this chick, right. We've been talkin' online for a while. We exchanged pics and let's just say she misrepresented herself.”

“It didn't look like her?”

“In the face maybe. The body belonged to somebody else.”

They laughed.

“I'm serious. She was fat.”

“So, you got somethin' against a healthy woman?”

“No. I like a woman with a little meat on her—more cushion for the pushin', you know what I mean? I just don't want her to look like a side of beef.”

“Aw, man. That just ain't right.”

“So, what kind of party were you at?”

“Peep this. I was at a birthday party . . . for Usher.”

“The singer?”

“Yep.”

“Damn, how you get invited to something like that?”

“You remember that fine-ass woman who gave me her number?”

“You hit that?”

“Knocked a hole in it.”

They laughed again.

“Must not have been that great a party if you lookin' for a bus.”

“It wasn't as social as I wanted, you feel me?”

The man reached into his inside pocket and extracted a bag of marijuana.

Tirrell licked his lips. “I . . . uh . . . I was sort of lookin' for somethin' with a little more kick to it.”

“Well, why didn't you say so?” Scotty asked. “You ever lace your weed with cocaine?”

“No, but I ain't opposed to tryin' it.”

“Trust me. You're gonna love this shit.”

Scotty invited Tirrell back to his place in Decatur. There was no fear of an unwanted sexual advance; he had only pacification to look forward to.