14. Alisha #2
“You were the last person I wanted to talk to.”
He went quiet.
Good. “I left that night and went to the Holiday Inn. Brittany was already with my mama, and I left her there because I wasn’t bringing her anywhere near that house.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, Fuck.”
“What did he say to you?”
“That you had something belonging to them. Money and product.”
Another silence. “Deuce?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Well, think faster.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“He didn’t have to spell it out.”
I looked back toward my shop.
“Today he came inside my business.”
“What?” Deuce asked.
“Yes he walked right into my nail shop.”
“Motherfucka!” Deuce yelled into the phone.
“Calm down.” I let him know.
“Nah, fuck that!” He spat.
I heard movement on his end.
“Deuce.”
“That nigga got me fucked! What did he say?”
“Same shit, you’re running out of time.” I swallowed. “Then he started talking about how I got a business and a family and got a lot to lose.” Deuce went dead silent. “Hello?”
“I’m here.” His voice had changed, that cocky shit was gone. “Listen to me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Here we go with all his fucking demands.”
“No, Lisha, please.”
That stopped me, because Deuce didn’t say please often.
“Don’t go back to that house.”
“I haven’t.”
“Good stay with your mama.”
“I am.”
“And don’t stay at that shop by yourself.”
“That’s my business, what else am I supposed to do?”
“I know what the fuck it is I bought it for you remember.”
“Then stop telling me not to go there.”
“I’m not telling you to stop working.” He paused. “I’m asking you not to be there alone.”
Asking that it was new I rubbed my forehead. “Deuce, what the fuck did you do?” He didn’t answer. “What did you get yourself into?”
“It’s complicated.” He answered.
I laughed. “Some strange man knowing where your wife lives and works is some other shit.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Because I’m the one dealing with it while you are sitting behind a wall.”
“I didn’t know they came to you.”
“Well, now you do.”
He exhaled. “I need to make a call.”
“To who?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I laughed. “And there you go again.”
“What?”
“Secrets.”
“Alisha—”
“No, I’m tired of you calling my name every time you don’t want to answer something.”
“I ain’t trying to hide shit from you.”
“That’s all you’ve been doing!”
He got quiet and I could hear voices somewhere behind him. Then Deuce spoke again. “You’re right.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I said you’re right.” His voice was lower. “I've been hiding shit.” I didn’t say anything. “I thought keeping you away from certain shit was protecting you.”
“Look how well that worked.”
“I know.”
“No, Deuce I don’t think you do.”
You got bitches showing up to your sister’s baby shower talking about twins. Then that bitch has the nerve to show up at your court date.”
“Kim was at court?” He asked.
“Don’t.”
“I’m asking—”
“And I said don’t.” I gripped my phone. “Don’t sit up there sounding surprised like you ain’t the reason that bitch feels comfortable enough to keep popping up around me.
” He didn’t say anything. “Now I got some man following me around Detroit talking about money and product.” I shook my head. “I’m tired.”
“Lisha—”
“I’m fucking tired, Deuce.” My voice cracked, and that pissed me off because I didn’t want to cry, I refused to. “I didn’t marry this.”
“I understand.”
“I married a man who owned a trucking company. I knew you weren’t a choir boy. I wasn’t stupid, but this?” I looked out the window. “This ain’t what I signed up for.”
“I understand.”
“Stop fucking saying that.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth! Just once, give me the whole fucking truth without me having to catch you, find something, or have some stranger bring it to my doorstep.”
There was a silence then I heard him breathe. “I fucked up.”
I closed my eyes. “That ain’t enough anymore.”
“I know it ain’t.”
“You could’ve gotten us killed.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“You’re in jail, Deuce! How the fuck you protecting anybody from in there?”
He didn’t have an answer. After a few seconds, I heard the automated warning that the call had limited time remaining.
Deuce spoke quickly. “Listen, I’m gonna handle the situation with them.”
“How?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I got right now.”
That irritated me because how the hell was he supposed to fix some shit in jail. “Of course.”
“Lisha.”
“What?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“How is Brittany doing?” My anger didn’t disappear but it shifted. “She’s okay.”
“Is she asking about me?” I stared ahead. “Every day.” He didn’t say anything. “Deuce?”
“I’m here.” His voice sounded different. “Tell her Daddy loves her.”
“You need to tell her yourself.”
“How? You don’t answer.”
I closed my eyes, he had me there. “I’ll let you talk to her next time.”
“Thank you.”
“But don’t confuse that with me forgiving you.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t start calling my mama’s house all damn day either.”
The recording interrupted again. “One minute remaining.”
“Alisha.”
“What?”
“I miss y’all.”
I swallowed, I hated that those three words still did something to me. “Deuce…”
“And I’m sorry.”
The call disconnected, I stared at my phone.
For weeks, I’d wanted him to feel what it was like not having access to me.
Now I’d finally talked to him and somehow, I had more questions than I did before.
By the time I left the shop, my nerves were shot, I kept checking my mirrors the whole drive to my mama’s house.
Every black truck, every car that stayed behind me too long, every time somebody made the same turn I did it made me more paranoid. That man had really fucked with my head. First my house then my shop. Now I was driving around wondering who the hell was watching me.
When I pulled up to my mama’s, Brittany came running out before I could even make it all the way up the walkway. “Mommy!”
“Hey baby.” I bent down and caught her when she jumped into my arms and she squeezed my neck. “You took forever.”
“Girl, I was at work.”
“You are always at work.”
I pulled back and looked at her. “And you're always asking for stuff that costs money, so it sounds like we both have problems.”
She giggled, and my mama came to the door. “She already ate a snack.”
“Good, because I’m taking her to get something to eat.”
Brittany’s eyes lit up. “Where?”
“I don’t know yet.” I laughed.
“Can we get chicken?”
“You always want chicken.”
“I like chicken.”
My mama laughed. “That’s your child.”
I grabbed Brittany’s little jacket. “Come on.” We ended up at a little restaurant not too far from my mama’s house.
Nothing fancy, just me and my baby. I needed that but what I didn’t was no strange men walking into my shop talking about money and products I didn’t have.
Just Brittany sitting across from me coloring on the kids’ menu like she didn’t have a care in the world.
I watched her for a minute. Kids were lucky they didn’t know how fucked up grown folks could make shit.
“Mommy?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I get dessert?”
“You ain’t even got your food yet.”
“I know but I want a piece of lemon pound cake.”
“So why are we talking about dessert?”
“Because I really want a piece.”
I shook my head. “You are your daddy’s child.” The second I said it, her little face changed and she stopped coloring. “What’s wrong?”
She shrugged.
“Brittany.”
She kept looking down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Look at me.”
She slowly looked up.
“When is Daddy coming home?” I sat back.
“I don’t know, baby.”
“Is he still at work?”
My heart dropped. I had been trying to explain everything in a way she could understand without telling her too much.
“Daddy isn’t at work.”
“Then where is he?”
I hesitated. “He’s somewhere he can’t come home from right now.”
“Why?”
“Because he has some grown up stuff he has to take care of.”
She frowned. “Did he do something bad?”
I wasn’t prepared for that, so I reached across the table and took her little hand. “Daddy loves you.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I blinked, Lord she was definitely my child. “Did he?”
I took a breath. “Daddy made some choices that he has to deal with right now.”
She stared at me. “Is he in jail?”
My stomach dropped. “Who told you that?”
“Nobody.” She shrugged.
“I heard Grandma talking.”
Of course she heard it from my gossiping ass mama. I know she was on the phone with my auntie telling all my business. “Yes.”
Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Is he gonna stay there forever?”
“No, baby.” I got up and moved around to her side of the booth. “Come here.” She climbed into my lap.
“I want my daddy.”
“I know, baby.”
“When can I see him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I call him?”
That question broke my heart because this wasn’t about me anymore. It wasn’t about what Deuce did to our marriage. It wasn’t about how pissed off I was. This was his daughter too and she missed him.
“Please, Mommy.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“The next time Daddy calls, I’ll let you talk to him.”
She pulled back.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Her whole face lit up. “Can I tell him about my picture?”
“Yes.”
“And school?”
“Yes.”
“And that Grandma burned the toast?”
I laughed. “Definitely tell him that.”
“Grandma said it wasn’t burnt.”
“Your grandma lies.”
Brittany giggled. “Mommy!”
“What? That toast was probably black.”
She went back to coloring like everything was okay again. I watched her and felt something twist inside me. I could be done with Deuce as a husband. I could hate his ass tomorrow. But I wasn’t going to use Brittany to punish him. That wasn’t fair to either one of them.
Two nights later, my phone rang while Brittany and I were at my mama’s house watching TV. I looked down and the county jail number popped up.
“Is that Daddy?” Brittany asked.
I looked at her. “I don’t know.”
She sat straight up. “Answer it!”
“Hold on.” I accepted the call and after the recording finished, Deuce came on.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
He paused. “Lisha?”
“Yeah.”
“You answered.”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“Aight.”
I could hear the smile in his voice anyway. I looked at Brittany and she was damn near bouncing beside me. “Somebody wants to talk to you.”