Too Close for Comfort (5 page)

Yaya stood outside Jason's door and rang the doorbell. She was tempted to try her key to see if it worked, but she didn't want to take the chance of being disappointed if it didn't. She waited a few moments and rang the bell again. She knew Jason was home because she followed him from work. She had given him enough time to take a shower and grab a beer from the fridge, and imagined he was about to stretch out on the couch and watch
SportsCenter
. After still not getting an answer, she proceeded to knock loudly.

“Jason, come on, I know you're in there,” she called out. She tiptoed and peered into the small window. She could see him walking around. “Open the door, Jason. I need to talk to you.”

“Go away, Yaya. We don't have anything to talk about.”

“Yes, we do. Come on, open the door!” She knocked even harder.

“No, get away before I call the police . . . again!”

“Jason, stop tripping. Open the door, please!”

“Leave me alone, Yaya. I told you I don't have anything to say to you.”

“But I have something to say to you, Jason. It's been a week. I keep calling you, and you won't answer your phone.”

“Because I don't wanna talk to you. Leave, Yaya. I mean it.”

Yaya was mad. This was not turning out like she planned. She thought she would come over, Jason would let her in, she would apologize, he would forgive her, and they would celebrate her news about the opening of After Effex with a glass of wine and a night of lovemaking. Frustrated, she took a chance of putting her key into the lock and turning the knob. She smiled when the door opened.

“Damn, I forgot to change that lock,” Jason huffed when she stepped inside.

“You know you didn't want to do that anyway.” She walked over and faced him.

“What the hell do you want?” He turned away from her.

“I want you, Jason. I want to talk to you. I'm sorry about last weekend. You can't really blame me though, can you?” She took a seat on the sofa and made herself comfortable. She looked around and saw that his CDs and DVDs were lined up neatly once again. He had even replaced the shattered glass of the coffee table with a new one.

“Yaya, please, I've had a long day, and I'm really not in the mood to deal with this.”

“None of this would've happened if it wasn't for Travis. I don't even know why you hang out with his trifling ass anyway.”

“This has nothing to do with Travis, Yaya.”

“It was Travis that had some 'ho' driving my car without my or your permission, wasn't it?”

“It wasn't Travis that came over here and vandalized my home though, Yaya. It was you.”

“Okay, you're right about that part. I was wrong, but you can understand why I was upset, Jason. Think about if you woulda seen another guy driving your Range Rover when I was supposed to be driving it. How would you have reacted?”

“I wouldn't have gone to your place and did what you did. That was crazy. Crazy, Yaya.” He took a swallow of his beer.

“I know, and that's why I came over to apologize, Jason.”

“Fine.” He turned and stared at her.

He looked so good wearing nothing but a pair of red basketball shorts and some Adidas flip-flops. She let her gaze drift from his eyes all the way down his body, pausing to admire his well-defined chest and abdomen. Her eyes landed on his crotch.

“I'm waiting.”

“Huh?” She turned her attention back to his face.

“You said you came to apologize, so apologize and leave.” He leaned on the counter.

She spotted his bottle of Heineken right behind him.
I know him so well
. “Jason, I'm sorry. I overreacted, and I'm sorry.” Yaya stood up and walked over to him, placing her hand in the middle of his chest. “Will you accept my apology?”

He put his hand over hers and removed it. “Yes, I do, but I can't deal with this anymore. It's too exhausting for me.”

Yaya frowned. “What are you talking about, Jason?”

“This-this back and forth . . . the tantrums . . . I'm just tired. I told you that the last time this happened.”

“Jason, that was almost two years ago. With the exception of last weekend, we've been good; you even said that yourself.” Yaya was shocked by this reaction. Jason had always forgiven her, and they would always pick up where they left off.

When they first started dating, she would often let her jealous nature get the best of her. Throwing objects, screaming, and going off was just a part of their relationship, until the incident that left her foot fractured, and a hole in Jason's wall where she'd kicked it. He had given her an ultimatum—either she calm down or it was over. Slowly, she evolved into the calm, professional woman he desired.

“Well, maybe I was wrong,” he told her.

“No, you weren't, Jason. Baby, you know how we are . . . how I am.”

“Yeah, I do, Yaya, but I know that I'm tired too. I think maybe we need a break from this, from each other.”

“Jason, baby, please. I need you. Things are happening for me. Taryn and I are opening the shop. I mean, I-I need you with me. I need you to talk to, to be there for me.” Yaya began crying uncontrollably. “I love you, Jason. I can't do—”

“Yaya, stop. Don't do this.” Jason looked at her strangely, causing her to cry harder.

“Oh God, please help me, Jason.” She began shaking. “I love you, Jason. We love each other. I'm sorry. I swear it'll never happen again. I won't lose my temper.”

“Yaya, listen to me.” Jason grabbed her shoulders. “Calm down and listen.”

Yaya shook her head. “No, this is not happening. You cannot leave me, not now.”

“It's not about me leaving you; it's about taking a step back and re-evaluating this entire situation. God, look at us—this is what I'm talking about—look!”

Yaya stopped. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. Her heart was pounding, and she could taste vomit in her mouth. Jason was right—she was out of control. Her hands were trembling as she brought them to her face. She caught her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall above the sofa. Mascara was streaming down her face, leaving a black trail down her cheeks. How had it come to this?

She was embarrassed, not just for now, but for all the times she had acted like this before. This time was different, though. All the other times, after she had promised never to do it again, Jason would pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be fine. He'd lecture her, and they would move on. This time, he just stared.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered and turned away, unable to face him.

Jason walked out of the room and returned with a wet cloth. He handed it to her, but she didn't move.

“Yaya, come on.”

She took the washcloth and wiped her face. “I guess I look pretty pathetic, huh?”

“I've seen you look worse,” he said, smugly. “Look, Yaya, I think we need to take some time apart.”

“But—”

“No, listen. It's a stressful time for both of us right now. I got shit going on at work, and you're talking about trying to open a business with Taryn—”

Tears began to form in her eyes again. “That's why we need each other the most right now, Jason.”

“No, Yaya, I need some time to myself, to think things through and sort through some things. You and I are so chaotic right now that it's becoming a distraction.”

“So, that's it. We're over?”

“We're not over, Yaya; we're just taking a break. We'll still talk and see each other; we just won't be in each other's space.”

“Jason, what are you talking about? The reason I was opening the salon with Taryn was so that I wouldn't have to travel so much and we would have more time to spend with each other, remember?” Yaya was so confused by what he was saying. It sounded like this was something he had been thinking about for some time.

“I know, and that's a good thing. Let's just give it some time, Yaya, and see how it works out.” Jason pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I love you, Yaya, but this is just too crazy for me to be dealing with right now.”

Yaya closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that this was a nightmare that she would be waking up from in a few moments. Jason was the love of her life, and she didn't know what she would do without him. It may have been Taryn that taught her about style and fashion, but it was Jason who taught her about sophistication. Long gone were her days of jeans and T-shirts. Jason filled her closet with designer suits and dresses and the Jimmy Choo shoes to match. It was because of Jason that she turned heads when she walked onto the sets, rather than the hot models and singers who were supposed to be the center of attention. Now, he no longer wanted her, and she didn't know what she was going to do.

“I guess I need to go then,” she told him.

“Call me to let me know you made it home.” He walked her to the door.

“No, I'll be okay.” She opened the door to her car. She felt like a zombie as she got in.

“Yaya, you know I love you, right?” He leaned into the car and stroked her hair.

She nodded without looking at him.
You love me, but you don't want me
. “Good-bye, Jason.” She closed her door and waited until he went back into the house before backing out the driveway and crying all the way home.

Camille's arrival at her house didn't come as a surprise to Paige. They had always been close, from the moment they met. Camille had never really had a close relationship with her mother, mainly because Ms. Lucille remained intoxicated most of Camille's life. Unlike her mother, Camille welcomed Paige into the family, and Paige embraced Camille as the younger sister she never had.

“Aunt Cam!” Myla dropped the bags on the floor and ran to hug her aunt.

“Let me guess—no one knows you're here, right?” Paige asked.

“Nope, and I'd like to keep it that way, if possible.” Camille grinned sheepishly.

“Cam, you know how things are between me, your brother, your mother, hell, his new wife.”

“You act like things between me and them are hunkydory.” Camille plopped down on the sofa, pulling the blanket over her legs, “Come on, Paige. I'm not going to summer school, and I didn't have anywhere else to go. I'm not staying there with that fat, lazy, so-called wife of his, and there's no way I'm going to spend my summer cleaning up after her and sobering up my mother.”

“Why didn't you mention this when we talked yesterday?” Paige sat on the other end of the sofa and faced her.

“Because I wanted to surprise you.”

Paige didn't mind having Camille at her house, but the fact that Camille didn't want anyone to know she was there made her uneasy. She knew that once Ms. Lucille and Marlon found out, there would be even more trouble, and more trouble with the Davis clan was the last thing she felt like dealing with.

“Camille, you've got to let Marlon know you're here.”

“But, Paige—”

“I'm not saying tonight, but at some point they're gonna find out and think I had something to do with it.”

“No, they won't. Look, I'll tell Marlon in a few days, I promise. So, can I stay here for the summer?”

“Yes!” Myla nodded in excitement.

Paige shook her head at the two of them. “Myla, get ready for bed while I talk to Aunt Cam.”

“Mom—” Myla started to protest.

“Go ahead, Myla, and I'll come up in a few minutes.” Camille winked at her.

Myla jumped up and ran upstairs.

“Please,” Camille continued to plead.

“Fine. But you have to get a job.”

“I'll get one, that's no problem. Plus, I'll help out with Myla, so you can go out and have some fun this summer.”

Hearing that, Paige realized that having Camille live with them for the summer was an even better idea than she'd first thought. She and Quincy really hadn't spent a lot of time together over the past few days, with his putting the final touches on the new shop and helping his sister open her salon.

“Speaking of fun this summer . . . how is Mr. Quincy?” Camille asked.

“He's good. He's opening another barbershop next weekend right downtown near the library,” Paige told her.

“Can we say
lunchtime quickies
?” Camille giggled.

“Watch your mouth.” Paige threw a pillow at her.

“Maybe I can get a job at the barbershop as a receptionist. I can see myself spending my days watching fine men come in and out all day.” Camille laughed.

“Camille Davis, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you sound like you've gotten a little hot in the pants your freshman year of college. I don't know if I can handle you this summer.” Paige was amused by the once shy introvert now giggling about boys.

“Don't worry, Paige, you know my bark has always been bigger than my bite. Unfortunately, I'm still a virgin.” She sighed.

“Good. And I plan for you to stay that way until you're married.”

Myla's voice came down the steps. “Aunt Cam, I'm ready!”

Camille put her now empty cereal bowl on the table and stood up. She folded the blanket and tucked it under her arm then picked the bowl up. “Thanks, Paige. You're the only person in my life I have that I can trust. If it wasn't for you and Myla, I wouldn't have anyone.”

Paige watched her walk out of the room and prayed that she'd made the right decision by allowing Camille to stay.

“Hey, Paige,” Camille said, when Paige answered her desk phone.

“Hey, Cam. What's going on?”

“Tia has been trying to reach you. She's called the house twice this morning.”

“Your cousin?”

Tia was Marlon's cousin and the mortgage broker who helped them to buy a house. She was really nice, and Paige liked her a lot.

“Yep. I didn't tell her who I was. She thinks I'm the babysitter.” Camille laughed. “I didn't want to chance her telling Marlon or Lucille she talked to me.”

“I wonder what she wants.”

“I don't know, but you may want to give her a call.” Camille gave her the number.

Paige called it immediately. She hoped nothing happened or no one died. “Hey Tia, its Paige.”

“Hey, Paige. I've been trying to reach you. Marlon brought me your paperwork, but I need some more info from you.”

“‘Paperwork'?”

“Yeah . . . to refinance the house. I can probably get it done quickly, girl. You all have a lot of equity built up and having it as rental property is a smart idea.”

“Tia, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I don't know anything about refinancing the house.”

“Paige, I'm sorry. I know you and Marlon aren't together anymore, but I thought this was a decision you knew about. I mean, you'd have to know, for this to go through, because the house is in both your names. Look, don't worry about it. I'll call Marlon and—”

“No, I'll call him. Give me a couple of days and I'll get back with you. Don't say anything to Marlon about having spoken to me.”

“That's fine. I can tell him my appraiser is backed up and it'll be awhile.”

“Yeah, tell him anything. He'll believe it, coming from you. Thanks for calling. By the way, how did you get my home number? I know Marlon didn't give it to you.”

“Funny thing. I called his cell and office numbers and couldn't get in contact with you. I knew you had moved and took the chance that your number may be listed, and you were.”

“Thank God for small favors. I'll talk to you later.”

Paige couldn't believe Marlon tried to sell the house behind her back.
How could he be dumb enough to think he could do that? Of all the crazy, low-down things he could possibly do . . .
She was livid. That house was an investment that she and Marlon had made together for their children. She hated the fact that she didn't listen to her father when he told her to think carefully before buying it with Marlon because they weren't married. In her mind at that time, she thought she would be Marlon's wife soon. Things didn't quite work out that way, and even when she moved out, she didn't think about what would happen to their house.
Daddy was right—I should've listened to him a long time ago
.

“Hey, you ready to go to lunch?”

She looked up to see Quincy standing in the doorway.

“I'm too pissed to eat,” she told him.

“What's wrong? What has Celeste done now?”

“It's not Celeste, it's Marlon.” She turned off the computer and grabbed her purse.

“And what has the ex-love of your life done now?” He smiled.

“You're trying to be funny—He's trying to refinance the house,” she told him as they walked out of her office and into the quiet library. The loudness of her voice caused the few lunchtime visitors to look up. She knew she was out of order, but she was too mad to care. Besides, she was the boss.

“What house?” Quincy asked. They walked over to his silver Acura and he opened the door for her.

“Our house.”

“The house you used to live in?—that house?”

“Yes, that house.”

“Oh, is that a bad thing?” He glanced over at her.

“It is, when he's trying to do it behind my back.”

“He ain't tell you he was selling it? Now that's messed up, I ain't lyin'.”

“I can't believe he would be so low-down and stupid. I know his mama told him to do it, and he probably listened to her like a dumb ass. That's why I told them to get the hell out my house anyway, her and her fat, nasty daughter-in-law.”

“You told them to get out of
your
house?” Quincy pulled into the parking lot of Applebee's.

Paige rolled her eyes at him. “Your repeating everything I tell you isn't helping any.”

“I'm just trying to get a full understanding of what's going on.”

“Remember when we went to the house and got the girls?” she asked him after they were seated and placed their orders.

He nodded. “Yeah, Kasey gave them the test.”

“Right. Well, while I was there, I gave Kasey and Ms. Lucille their thirty-day notice.”

“You told them they had to get out? Doesn't Ms. Lucille have her own house?”

“I don't know if she does or not. I know she's been staying at mine, along with that cow, and I want them out.”

“So you're kicking them out your house?”

“Well, technically, I can't kick Marlon out because his name is on the deed.” Paige took a sip of water.

“But you want his mother and his pregnant wife to go?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you really think that makes sense? I mean, come on now, Paige, be reasonable.”

Quincy was being just as aggravating about the situation as her mother was. It seemed as if everyone was on Marlon's side.

“I
am
being reasonable. His mother constantly disrespects me, along with his wife, and I'm supposed to let them live in me and Marlon's house? You don't see the wrong in that?”

Quincy sat back and stared at her for a moment. “What I do see the wrong in is you still thinking the house is yours and Marlon's. It's just another thing that ties you to him and you don't want to let go.”

Paige frowned. “That's crazy.”

“No, it's not. Marlon is married and has a new baby on the way. You don't live there. You said yourself you never had to pay the mortgage. If he wants the house, let him have it.”

“No, I'm not letting him have anything.”

“You're not even being rational.”

“Why should I be the rational one? Is he being rational by going behind my back?”

“You know you legally can't kick Kasey and his mom out. You only own half the house, and Maron owns the other half
and
he lives there. If he gives them permission to live with him, they can stay. You think he's too stupid to realize this and consult a lawyer?”

Quincy sounded like the voice of reason, something she really didn't feel like hearing at that moment.

“I know all of that Quincy ‘Matlock' Westbrooke. Thanks. You know what—it's not even worth discussing. Let's just enjoy our lunch.”

“Cool with me.” Quincy told her.

As soon as she returned to her office, she dialed Marlon's cell number and got his voice mail. It took everything within her not to leave a nasty message. She decided to be smarter than that. Instead, she left a pleasant one. “Hey, Marlon, it's me, Paige. I was just thinking about you. Give me a call when you get a chance. Talk to you soon. Bye.”