The Man in 3B (6 page)

My life had been so screwed up after I stopped seeing Daryl that I’d tried to block him from my mind and pretend the relationship never happened, but now that I’d had that talk with Monica, it all came rushing back. Now Daryl was all I could think about.

You see, I was a real mess when I met Daryl. I’d just lost my mom to some very suspicious circumstances. The police and my father called it a suicide because of the e-mail my mother supposedly sent out before her death, but no one could ever convince me my mother killed herself. Sure, she was a little depressed, but what woman wouldn’t have been when she found out her husband was trading her in for a younger, much thinner model? She never would have left me alone in this world. She loved me too much for that.

I couldn’t get anyone to listen to me, including my dad. Don’t get
me wrong. I still loved my dad, but two months after my mother’s death, he was already gallivanting around with a woman who was only seven years older than me. I had no doubt that she was with my father because of his money. The way I saw it, that hussy had plenty of motive to kill my mother. I still can’t stand that bitch to this day.

My mom’s death hurt me in ways I can’t even explain, and I hated everything and everybody, including myself. I was in so much pain during that period of time. I dropped out of St. John’s University during the first semester of my sophomore year and turned to drugs and thugs to numb the pain. Cocaine, Ecstasy, and bad boys with even badder reputations—that’s all I desired out of life for the better part of two years.

But all that stopped and everything changed when I met Daryl. He was the first man to act like he really cared about what was going on in my life. I could talk to him, let him know what I was going through, and he actually listened. To this day, I have not met anyone who was a better listener… or a better handball player.

I’ll never forget the first day we met when Daryl walked up behind me at the handball court over by Rochdale Village.

“Excuse me,” he said. “If you got next, can I be your partner?”

I was on the court playing handball, waiting for this guy named Flex so we could go back to his place and get high on E. I’d just gotten my ass kicked by this bitch Angela and her sister Carmen because of this scrub named Johnny that I was playing with. I hated the idea of losing to those chicks again, so I barely even paid attention to Daryl’s looks, just his stature, which was tall and athletic. Besides, to me he kinda looked a little corny, all decked out in his New York Knicks sweat suit with a gold chain around his neck. Who the hell did he think he was anyway, Carmelo Anthony?

I asked him, “You any good?”

“Good enough to beat their asses.” He glanced over at the sisters.

“A’ight, we’ll see.” I gave him the once-over, then nodded. Hell, he had to be better than Johnny’s scrub ass.

We played the next game as partners. Daryl hadn’t lied at all. He
was good enough to beat the sisters—and everyone else who challenged us that day. Our triumph on the handball court became an invitation to a celebratory drink, which I had no problem accepting since Flex had stood me up. A couple of free drinks would probably take the edge off. Who knew? Maybe I could even get Daryl to purchase some get-high.

Over drinks, I found out Daryl was about as knowledgeable and deep a man as they come, but I still didn’t see any type of love connection. Oh, he was nice enough, and now that I had a chance to look at him up close and personal, there was no doubt he was fine. But he seemed a little too square for my taste. I was into roughnecks. The rougher you were, the more I liked you, and Daryl’s preppy behavior seemed far from gangster. Or so I thought until these two dudes named Damon and Stork rolled up in the bar.

Now, if you’re from South Jamaica, Queens, you know who Damon and Stork are. They’re probably two of the biggest thugs Queens has ever produced. They were involved in everything from armed robbery to drug dealing. For a girl like me, who had a thing for thugs, just the sight of them made me wet. So when they walked over to the table, I was pretty much ready to leave Daryl by his lonesome and get with some real men.

“Yo, ain’t you Daryl Graham?” Damon’s eyes got small as he pointed his finger at Daryl.

They were standing about two feet from our booth, looking menacing as they waited for Daryl’s reply. My poor heart started beating outta my chest. I was looking for a place to hide because Damon and Stork never went anywhere unless they were strapped. If Daryl said the wrong thing, it was about to be on and popping in that bar.

“Yeah, I’m Daryl. What’s up? Do I know you?” He must have had no idea what was about to come, because he said it so nonchalantly it was almost condescending.

I pushed my chair back so they wouldn’t get any of his blood on me.

“Yooooo! Stork! You know who this is?” Damon shouted. He
turned to his partner, then pointed at Daryl. His eyes were large with excitement as he gestured wildly. “This is Majestic’s man, Daryl Graham, from over there by 40! This nigga is a legend.”

Stork’s entire demeanor softened. “Get the fuck outta here. That’s Daryl Graham,
the
Daryl Graham?”

“Yeah, man,
the
Daryl Graham.” Damon was smiling at Daryl, looking like he wanted to ask for his autograph. “You don’t remember me, but I’m Majestic’s little brother, Damon.”

Daryl studied him for a second, then said, “Damn, yeah, I remember you, but you ain’t so little no more. How’s your brother doing? I miss that cat.”

Damon hesitated. “He’s upstate right now, but he’s a’ight. I’m trying to put together some ends so I can send him a package next week.”

Daryl reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. I watched as he peeled off five hundred-dollar bills like it was nothing.

“Put this on the books for him and tell him I said what’s up. If he needs anything, tell him I said to holla. He knows where to find me.”

There was a silence between them, and for a split second, I thought I saw Damon sniffle back some tears.

“Thank you, man. Thank you.” Damon took the money, then gave Daryl one of those one-armed brotherly hugs that guys do. Stork did the same. Daryl was only about four or five years older than us, but they were treating him with the respect of an elder.

“Yo, ma, take care of our man,” Damon said to me before he left.

I’d known those brothers for about five years, and I’d never seen them show respect to anyone the way they had to Daryl. And they weren’t the only ones. I was so wrapped up in wanting to hook up with Flex and getting high that I hadn’t noticed it until that moment, but Daryl had a way about him. He was the kind of guy who made all the women want him and all the men fear him. Even wearing that corny-ass sweat suit, his presence couldn’t be ignored. He was larger than life; he dominated the room. All of a sudden I was totally turned on. Daryl was everything I wanted—a preppy thug.

I ended up spending the night with Daryl… and the next night and the next until it was known by everyone that I was his and he was
mine. He wouldn’t tolerate my drug use, and to be honest, I had no desire to use drugs when I was with him. Within a week I was drug-free.

I’d learned a lot of things the hard way in my dealings with the losers, drug dealers, and thugs, but Daryl taught me something none of them even had an inkling about. Daryl taught me about love. Oh, I knew how to have sex. A sista knew how to work her hips and make a nigga throw his back out, but what I didn’t know was what it was like to make love. Even better than what he taught me, Daryl gave me something I’d been sorely missing ever since my mother died. Daryl loved me. I know he did.

At least he did until I screwed up everything.

“Your destination is on your right. You have arrived,” the mechanical GPS voice announced as I pulled in front of what could only be described as a McMansion. I double-checked the address to be sure I wasn’t at the wrong place. Sometimes those GPS devices get confused and take you to the wrong address. I’d had that happen a few weeks ago when I was going to Fourth Avenue in East New York, Brooklyn, and ended up over the bridge on Fourth Avenue in Manhattan.

“Whoo-wee!” I whistled as I got out of the car and walked along the long driveway to the front door of the huge brick colonial. The house looked like it had come straight from the pages of
House Beautiful
magazine. There was a Mercedes sports coupe and a Bentley in the driveway. Kind of reminded me of my old life when I had money.

“Who is it?” a sultry female voice called through the intercom when I rang the bell.

“It’s Avery Mack. I’m here to see Cain.”

That’s right. I was there to see the same Cain who had talked me down from that railing on the bridge. We’d been corresponding via phone and text for the past few days and struck up what appeared to be a genuine friendship. The man should have been a motivational speaker because every time I hung up after one of our conversations, I felt all amped up and energized, like I could do anything. I hadn’t felt like that since before I lost my job.

When the mahogany double doors opened, the vision before me almost literally took my breath away. The woman standing before
me was so beautiful that I gasped involuntarily. She resembled Nicki Minaj with her pink hair, tiny halter top, and low-cut capri pants. I could see a butterfly tattoo between her large, symmetrical breasts that were on full display. I struggled to tear my eyes away from her cleavage to look at her eyes as she tipped down her designer sunglasses and fluttered her long, fake lashes at me.

“So, you’re Avery?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s me.” I swallowed deeply, trying to keep my cool, even though I was feeling weak in the knees over the simple fact that this gorgeous being knew my name.

“I’m Holly. Cain didn’t tell me you were so cute.” She pivoted around on one foot and started walking away, then turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. “C’mon in.”

I gladly followed. Her stilettos clicked on the marble floor as her ample hips swayed back and forth. I could see another butterfly tattoo on the top part of her right butt cheek, which was visible over her low-cut pants. She had one of the nicest asses I’d ever seen. Kind of reminded me of Connie’s ass back in the day. The damn thing almost had me hypnotized as she sashayed in front of me. I had no idea what I was getting into, but I found myself more alive and excited as a man than I’d felt in years.

“Cain’s out back by the pool,” she said. “He’s been waiting for you, and so have we.” She walked through French doors to the backyard, where a large, kidney-shaped pool and waterfall sat in the center of a parklike yard. I felt like I was on an episode of
MTV Cribs
. I was so busy checking out the view that I didn’t think to ask who she meant by “we.”

“Avery,” Cain called out. He was stretched out on a white leather chaise with a beautiful bikini-clad woman on each side, like he was Hugh Hefner. One woman was Asian with long hair, and the other one was a platinum blonde Marilyn Monroe throwback. The Asian one plucked an olive from a dry martini and fed it to Cain while the blonde rubbed lotion on his legs. I had to admit my new friend Cain was becoming more fascinating by the minute.

Cain stood and gave me a brotherly hug. “Welcome to my casa.
Mi casa es su casa.
” Cain turned around and smacked the blonde woman on the ass just hard enough to get her attention. “Cindy, hon, can you go get Avery a martini. No, scratch that. Make him a virgin piña colada.” She kissed his cheek and headed toward the house without another word.

Cain turned back to me. “I would offer you a drink, Avery, but alcohol doesn’t seem to agree with you. You might wanna lay off it for a while.”

He was only half joking, but I couldn’t blame him for saying it, considering how drunk I’d been the night we met. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably for the best.”

Cain nodded. “Holly, Kim, you girls go help out Cindy. I wanna talk to Avery alone for a while.”

“But what about the party?” the pink-haired sister asked, looking genuinely disappointed. “I was hoping to get to know Avery.”

“We’ll get the party started after Avery and I talk. It will be just a few moments, promise.”

They gave him no further argument, like he was a king and they were his loyal subjects. Before she left, Holly gave me a seductive wink and a smile, and all the blood rushed to my groin. I don’t think I need to explain what was going through my head.

I looked at Cain. He was chuckling. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very. She’s not your daughter or girlfriend or anything, is she? If so, I was just looking.” I hoped he didn’t think I was trying to be disrespectful, because I would flip if someone my age looked at my daughter the way I’d been looking at Holly.

“No, no.” He motioned for me to sit down. “We’re all friends here. Friends with benefits, I might add, and from the way Holly was looking at you, she wants to be your friend. I’m sure you’re going to
benefit
before you leave here.”

“She’s a little young for my taste. I’ve got a daughter about her age.” Although there was no denying how sexy Holly was, I wasn’t lying one bit when I said I preferred my women a little older. I’d been lusting over Jerri, this fine-ass thirty-seven-year-old bookkeeper from work for a while now. We’d been flirting back and forth for the
past few months, ever since I found out she was getting divorced. Unfortunately, she put up the stop sign big time when one of the bigmouth sales associates told her I was married.

“You like ’em a little older. I can understand that, but are you saying you’d kick Holly outta bed?” He gave me a cross-eyed look.

I lifted my eyes in the direction of the women’s retreating backsides. Damn, Holly did have a nice ass. I could still smell her perfume wafting on the air. “No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m just stating a personal preference in women.”

Cain said, “I’ll have to remember that next time I invite you over. Make sure I have some of my more mature friends stop by.”

“Now that’ll work. I like ’em thick, not fat. I got fat at home,” I joked halfheartedly.