Chapter 23 #2
“I’m straight.” His hand shot through the opening and closed around the edge of the door just as I pushed it back open thinking I was going to rush in and lock him out. I reacted too slowly. He shoved hard enough and the door struck my shoulder and forced me backward.
“Marv, stop!”
He pushed again and my heart slammed against my ribs. “What are you doing?”
“I said I need to talk to you.”
He pushed me herder this time I stumbled back and caught myself against the narrow table in the entryway.
My keys slipped from my hand and struck the tile.
Marv stepped all the way into the apartment.
He stared at the broken chain hanging from the door, then glanced into the hallway.
A television played behind a closed door farther down the hall, but no one came outside.
Marv pushed my door shut with the heel of his hand and turned the lock.
Fear started in my stomach before spreading upward into my chest. “Why did you lock the door?”
“So we can talk without everybody in our business.”
“There isn’t any business between us.”
His head snapped toward me. The second the words left my mouth, I saw the mistake in them. He moved deeper into the apartment as though he had been invited. His eyes swept across the living room, passing over the couch, the kitchen counter, and the candles that had burned out.
His nostrils flared. “Who been here?”
“What?”
“Somebody been here.”
“No one is here now.”
“That ain’t what I asked.”
I stepped toward the door. “You need to leave.”
Marv shifted before I reached it, placing his body between me and the exit.
He didn’t touch me, and he didn’t have to.
The difference in our size became impossible to ignore once he blocked the only way out.
He dragged his hand beneath his nose again, looked at what remained on his fingers, and rubbed them together.
Restless energy moved through his shoulders as he began pacing near the kitchen.
“I found out some shit,” he said.
I tried to keep my voice calm. “What did you find out?”
“Paper been working with Rome.”
My furrowed my brows. “Paper?”
He reached the kitchen and made one sneaker squeak against the floor. “Paper been feeding your husband information. Watching shit, that nigga shot me.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Bullshit.”
I was so confused. “I don’t even talk to Paper.”
“You know him.” Marv laughed and rubbed both palms over his face. “See, that’s what y’all do. Everybody got an answer ready.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want the truth.”
“I’m telling you the truth!”
“Nah.” He pointed at me, his finger trembling. “You been lying since the beginning. You knew Paper was in it. You knew all this shit, but you kept playing dumb because you think you bigger than the program.”
“What program?”
His mouth twisted. “You really think I’m stupid.”
“No.” I looked at the sweat shining across his forehead and the uncontrollable movement of his jaw. “I think you’re high.”
The apartment went super silent. The air conditioner clicked on, followed by the low electrical hum of the refrigerator. Marv stopped moving and stared at me with narrowed eyes. “What did you say?”
I swallowed, wishing I could pull the words back without letting him see how afraid I was. “You don’t seem like yourself.”
He took one slow step closer. “You and Lev been talking about me?”
“No.” The lie came too quickly.
Marv saw it and his face changed. “I knew it.”
“There’s nothing to know.”
“That nigga think he can talk about me to some bitch?” His eyebrows rose as a smile spread across his face. It was worse than the anger because there was no humor in it. “Oh, you got a mouth now.”
“I’ve always had one.”
“Not with me.”
“I didn’t need one with you before because you weren’t standing in my house accusing me of things I didn’t do.”
He moved closer, I stepped back and his gaze dropped to my feet, noticing the movement, and his smile got wide. “You scared?”
“I’m uncomfortable.”
“Same shit.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“You ain’t used to nobody calling you out. You got Rome running around behind you, Paper moving for him, and Lev all in your face. Now you think you can play everybody.”
“I’m trying to divorce him.” My chest rose and fell as I stared at him, with fear and anger fighting for space inside me. “Marv you’re high. You’re standing here sweating, your nose is bleeding, and you’re talking about people watching you. You need help.”
His hand moved before my mind understood what was happening.
Pain exploded across the left side of my face.
My head snapped sideways, and my shoulder struck the wall near the kitchen hard enough to make the framed print above me shake.
For a second, there was no sound except a high ringing inside my ear.
The sharp taste of blood filled my mouth where my teeth cut the inside of my cheek.
I pressed one hand against the wall to keep myself upright and turned slowly toward him.
Marv stared at me, breathing hard. For one brief second, the anger left his face. Shock replaced it, as though even he couldn’t believe what he had done. Then his features twisted again. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
I touched my mouth. When I pulled my fingers away, blood stained their tips. “You hit me.”
“You kept lying.” He stepped toward me. I pushed away from the wall. “You need to calm down,” he said.
“Get out!” I yelled. “Get the fuck out!”
I lunged toward the front door. Marv caught my upper arm and jerked me backward with so much force that my tote slid from my shoulder. It struck the floor and spilled open, sending my phone, makeup, lotion, and the hundred-dollar bill skidding across the tile.
“Let me go!”
“Stop acting crazy.”
“I’m acting crazy?” I twisted, trying to rip my arm from his grasp, but his fingers only dug deeper. “Marv, you’re hurting me.”
“Then stop fighting.”
“I’m fighting because you won’t let me go.”
I swung my free hand and slapped the side of his face.
The blow barely moved him, but the surprise loosened his grip long enough for me to tear my arm free.
I ran toward the door and reached for the lock.
He then yanked the back of my ponytail. Pain ripped across my scalp as my head snapped backward.
I screamed and Marv dragged me away from the door while my slides scraped against the tile and my hands clawed at his wrist.
“Let go of my hair!”
“You think you can put your hands on me?”
“You hit me first!”
He pulled harder as tears sprang to my eyes from the pain.
Reaching behind me, I drove my elbow backward until it connected with his ribs.
Marv grunted, and his grip loosened enough for me to turn.
I shoved both hands into his chest with every bit of strength I had.
He stumbled into the entry table. The table tipped sideways, and a framed picture crashed against the floor.
Glass scattered across the tile, swallowing my keys beneath the broken frame, but the door was close enough that I no longer needed them.
Marv came toward me again. My hand closed around the first solid thing within reach, a heavy ceramic candle holder from the table. I swung toward his head. He ducked, and the candle holder slammed into his shoulder.
“Bitch!” The word came out of him like a growl.
I didn’t wait to see what he would do next.
I grabbed the lock, twisted it, and yanked the door open.
His hand caught the back of my shirt. The collar tightened against my throat as he pulled me backward.
I twisted inside the fabric, hearing stitches tear near my shoulder.
One slide slipped from my foot as I drove my heel down against his shoe causing him to curse.
I threw my weight forward. The shirt stretched, then ripped enough for me to slide from his grip and stumble into the hallway.
“Help!” My voice broke around the blood in my mouth. I slapped one hand against the wall to steady myself as I ran toward the stairs, one foot was bare and the other still trapped inside a slide.
“Somebody help me!”
A door opened behind me, another followed farther down and an older man stepped into the hallway wearing plaid pajama pants and a white undershirt. A woman peered from behind another door with a phone already pressed against her ear.
“What’s going on?” the man called.
“He attacked me!”
Marv emerged from my apartment. His eyes moved from the neighbors to me, and uncertainty showed across his face for the first time since he arrived, more doors were opening now and somebody shouted that the police were being called.
Marv wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looked down both ends of the hallway, then ran behind me.
I raced down the stairs, my bare foot slamming against concrete hard enough to send pain shooting up my leg since one of my damn shoes came off. Fear carried me faster than the pain could slow me. Somewhere behind me, a stairwell door slammed hard enough to echo through the building.
I was still yelling. “Help me!”
My voice carried across the parking lot.
A woman loading groceries into her trunk froze with one bag still in her hand while two men were standing beside a parked car straightened and turned toward me.
Above, one of my neighbors leaned over the railing and shouted for someone to call the police.
The blood coated my tongue each time I breathed.
My cheek throbbed, my scalp burned where Marv had pulled my hair, and the arm he grabbed felt hot beneath my torn sleeve.