Chapter Eighteen - Jeremy

I wove in and out of lanes, cut off cabs, and blocked crosswalks as I focused on getting Marsha to work safely and on time. The morning was crisp, the sun low yet slowly rising between the project buildings that towered over The Bronx streets. Every moment in the car felt like an eternity. Glancing at the time, though, I realized it had taken the usual eight minutes to drop her off. Marsha released her seatbelt, then reached back to pull her bag from the rear. I locked eyes with her for just a moment. Any longer than that, and I would give in to all the guilt I was feeling. Guilt that she’d almost been shot over me, guilt that I would continue the shady dealings to make money, and guilt that I had plans for a midday rendezvous with Pauletta. “You’re picking me up, right?” she confirmed, her voice soft but steady, as if our rigid routine anchored her.
“Of course,” I replied, my tone casual so that I wouldn’t heighten her anxiety with my own. I watched as she climbed the school steps. Then, as if something reminded me, I checked my surroundings for safety again. Long after she’d disappeared into the school building, I waited. In fact, I waited until students began entering the building. That’s when it occurred to me that she was inside safely, and the likelihood of the Peña family harming her was extremely low.
I finally sped off, leaving Marsha in a secure part of my mind, with the freedom to do what I needed and wanted for the day. Only a few miles away, I parked my car in front of a semi-shabby storefront office. I greeted the receptionist and sauntered to the back to find Uncle Marvin. After the shooting incident, Papi decided that I would partner with Marvin again in handling New York business instead of running it on my own. He was pissed that Marsha was present. The family moved swiftly and quietly in everything, and Marsha was to stay mystified about our operations. Her presence while I met with contacts was a huge risk.
“My boy.” Marvin reached out and hugged me as I entered the office.
“Unc,” I replied as I accepted my uncle’s embrace.
“Have a seat,” he gestured.
I sat and folded my hands together.
“Look, your father is talking like he wants me to completely take over New York again, and to tell you the truth, I’m not interested. This is his way of life. But it’s not mine. I’m ready to leave this game alone. We can work out a way to continue with you leading everything here. Eventually, I’m gonna phase myself out.”
I nodded as I processed what Uncle Marvin was saying.
“What’re you thinking?” he asked.
I shrugged. “How do you think we can make it work?”
“We can continue what we started in the spring. I’ll stay on as front-man, but all decisions are up to you. If you need me to advise or wanna know what I think, I can help. I’m just not interested in leading. I’m even willing to take a smaller cut.”
I could see that Uncle Marvin was serious.
“I also think,” he added, “that you should get out of town.”
“Huh?” I was thrown off by that statement.
“You need to move. Yeah, most of what we do is in Brooklyn, but The Bronx is just another borough, not another state. Not even another city. I don’t think you really understand that.”
“I understand,” I cut in, not wanting to focus on any of my shortcomings.
Uncle Marvin raised an eyebrow and continued, “Anyway, I think you should consider Jersey or Pennsylvania.”
“That’s far,” I said, considering how much farther I felt I was being moved from my element. First, my parents moved me from Haiti to Miami, then Miami to New York, and then my uncle was talking about New Jersey or Pennsylvania. Just when I would get my bearings, someone else would decide to make a shift.
“I said, ‘consider’ it,” Uncle Marvin stated as if he were reading my mind.
“I’ll think about it,” I agreed.
Suddenly, my beeper sounded, and Uncle Marvin eyed me suspiciously. “You just don’t know how to lay low, do you?”
“It ain’t like that,” I said, unsure if I wanted him to know I was cheating on Marsha.
“Uh huh. Whassup with school?” Uncle Marvin changed the topic to what he knew Papi would want us to discuss.
“I gotta head out, Unc,” I said, rising from my seat. If anything was going to hold me up from this midday romp, it wouldn’t be a conversation about school. I was tired of pondering my failed efforts. I needed to feel good.
I knew Pauletta was lying when she said she wouldn’t link with me again. I parked on a residential block, out of sight of the project building where she lived. I took the rank, pissy elevator up to her floor, conscious to stand only in the middle of the tight rectangular lift. Pauletta was standing in her doorway, wearing a satin robe, her hair protected in a satin scarf. I watched her mouth struggle not to smile as I approached.
“You don’t even know why I paged you,” she said, backing up and allowing me into the apartment.
I removed my jacket once over the threshold. “You only page me for one thing.”
“Could’ve been something different,” Pauletta went on.
I snorted as my eyes scanned the short ceilings and close walls. Paint chipped everywhere, and the tile seemed to click with stickiness under my feet. The smell of bleach and Mistolin let me know she kept the place as clean as she could, but New York City Housing Authority dragged their feet on the upkeep of government residences. It didn’t matter if she cleaned with vinegar, bleach, ammonia, baking soda, lemons and limes every day. It would be nasty. Layers of blood-red curtains shielded the windows, as if anyone could see into a tenth-floor apartment. A matching rug covered a square space in the middle of the living room floor. One wall was overtaken by a fully loaded entertainment center and the living room set was simple black leather.
I felt Pauletta’s hands caressing my back and coaxing me out of my shirt. She didn’t waste time, and I didn’t mind. I didn’t plan to be there all day.
When our brief but intense encounter satisfied us both, I rose from the couch and got ready to head home.
“So what’s the deal with you and that girl? What is she Jamaican or something?” Pauletta asked.
I stiffened. I hated for these outside women to bring up Marsha.
“Nah, she ain’t Jamaican.” I slid my feet into my shoes and reached for my jacket, which I had draped on the back of one of the black leather armchairs.
“So whassup? You gonna leave her?” Pauletta continued to dig.
“Leave her? Nah.” I hoped that she would leave the topic alone.
“Lemme get this straight,” Pauletta started in.
I sighed with exasperation, but that didn’t stop Pauletta.
“You sneak around behind her back, you come over here to sleep with me, and then what? You just gonna go back to her? Why are you even with her? She’s clearly not enough for you if you had to come over here to sleep with me?” She stood with her robe open, body still naked, slippers on her feet, and hands on her hips.
“I never said she wasn’t enough,” I said as I looked into her glassy eyes, primed for crying.
“I just don’t understand you men,” she said. “You get with these women that you have to cheat on—”
“I don’t have to cheat,” I said, cutting her off.
“I heard she’s boring.” Pauletta sounded like she was running out of steam.
I shrugged. “She’s my woman,” I said. “I love her, and I’m not leaving her. That’s it. I don’t have to cheat. I don’t have to fuck you. You let me. So I did. You don’t want to do it again, and we won’t. But as long as you let me, I will. Don’t ask me nuthin about my woman. Okay?”
Pauletta bit her bottom lip. “Soti lakay mwen,” Pauletta spat, kicking me out in Creole.
I nodded and left without a word.
A few hours later, after a thorough shower and nap, I pulled up to the high school and waited for Marsha to come out. I watched the foot traffic in front of the school, and the cars that pulled up to pick up students and leave. I watched for any signs of the Peña family. My heart raced while I waited, and I took deep breaths to calm myself. I’d started going through that since the incident. I didn’t tell Marsha; she was nervous enough for both of us. Maybe moving to Jersey could be the solution, I thought when teachers finally started exiting the building.
When Marsha climbed into the front passenger seat and pecked me on the lips, I felt a slight twinge of guilt from what I’d done earlier that day. The guilt and the anxiety played tug-of-war in the pit of my belly. Marsha hated being outside now, and I felt the same way. I couldn’t wait to be in the safety of our simple abode.