Let Me Hold You Read online

  I rolled my eyes and watched the numbers light up on the panel.

  Once we reached his floor, I paused just outside the elevator doors. “Hey, I’ma run down to my place and grab my iPad and my phone charger.”

  “A’ight. Hurry up, because Tyrone is ready to get to work.”

  Shaking my head, I pressed the button on the elevator. “I bet he is.”

  Once I made it to my place, I unlocked the door and headed straight to my bedroom, guided by the light from the ensuite bathroom, the only light I’d left on. As I entered the bedroom, I jumped at the sight of a man sitting on the bench at the foot of my bed.

  Armand.

  I slapped my hand to my chest and closed my eyes as my heart galloped uncontrollably. “Boogie! You scared me! How did you get in here?!”

  He blinked, angled his head to the left, and said, “With a key.”

  “A key? What key?”

  “My key, Ma.”

  “You have a key to my place?”

  “Yeah. I bought it. Why wouldn’t I have a key?” he said, matter-of-factly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a key?”

  “Where’s McClain?” he asked, ignoring my question.

  “Not here.”

  “I can see that.”

  I just stood there and stared at him. I didn’t know what else to say. I definitely wasn’t going to tell him where Leland was.

  “You know what? It don’t matter where he is,” Armand said, then stood and crossed my bedroom, opening my closet door.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Ignoring me, he rummaged in my closet, finally turning around holding a suitcase. “Pack your stuff. You’re leaving with me.”

  “What?”

  “You’re leaving with me. Tonight. You’re moving back to Florida where I can watch you. I’ll have someone put your furniture in storage and close this place up later.” He held the suitcase out to me. “Here. I never should’ve let you leave Florida in the first place.”

  I looked at the suitcase then raised my eyes to my son’s face. “Let me? I’m not moving anywhere, Armand.”

  “Yes, you are. Here.” He shoved the suitcase at me again.

  Shaking my head, I said, “No, Armand, I’m not. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Either you leave with me or I kill Leland McClain. It’s up to you. You say you love him? Then you better pack and come on.” He sounded so cool, calm, and lethal.

  “You’re gonna kill him and go to prison? Really?”

  “You wanna find out?”

  I opened my mouth to try and reason with him but shut it when I heard my front door open and close. A second or two later, Leland’s voice drifted from the front of my condo to my bedroom, “Aye, what’s taking you so long? The only excuse I’m accepting is that you’re in your bed, butt-ass-naked, on your knees, ass in the air, pussy facing the door so I can climb up in that motherfucker and squat behind you, and me and Tyrone gon’ hit it froggy style.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to see the rage in Armand’s, I said, “Um, Leland…my—”

  “Nuh-uh, I ain’t tryna hear it. You better be ready, because after I froggy-style you, I’ma flip your sexy ass over and eat the shit out of your taco, stick my tongue all the way in your pussy. Then I’ma have you put your feet on my chest and butterfly them thick thighs open so I can fuck you some more until you scream.”

  Opening my eyes, I could see my son’s nostrils flare, saw the vein pulsing in his neck, watched as he clenched his fists. Panicked, I moved toward the bedroom door, hoping to stop what I knew was about to be a horrible situation, and had managed to call Leland’s name again just as he made it to the door, a confused expression on his face. Not another word left my mouth before I felt my son yank me back into the room with such force that I landed on the floor.

  That nigga was fast, but I’m the one they call Fastlane, so I ducked before his fist connected with my face. When he came at me again, I ducked again.

  “Daniels, calm the fuck down! I ain’t tryna fight you!” I yelled.

  “Motherfucker, you ain’t fucking shit here! And who is Tyrone?! You gang-banging my mama?!” he shrieked, voice on soprano level. His eyes were wild as hell. I mean, yeah, what I said would upset any son, but shit, I thought we were alone.

  “Man, I wouldn’t have said that shit if I’d known you were here. That was for her, not you.”

  He came at me again, and I dodged him again.

  “Daniels, shit! I’m not gonna fight you! I’ll talk; we can talk, but we ain’t fighting!”

  “You’re right. Ain’t gon’ be no fighting. I’ma just kill your ass!”

  “First of all, I ain’t no damn punk. I can fight. I’d just prefer not to because I respect your mother.”

  “Respect?! You call that shit you just said respect?!”

  I sighed. “That was…she’s my woman. We play around like that. How you talk to your woman?” We did play like that, but I definitely intended to do all the stuff I described. On my mama, I did.

  “Your woman? What the fuck made you think you could get with my mama? You must be out your damn mind to think I’ma let this ride!”

  “It’s not about what you’re gonna let happen, man. She’s your mother, but she’s also a grown woman, and we love each other. I wasn’t thinking about you when I got with her. I was thinking that I liked her.”

  He shook his head. “You—I see what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to take my mama from me on some petty shit. Well, I’m ‘bout to end that right now. She’s leaving with me. Tonight. You gonna have to find you another victim.”

  “Naw, she staying with me, where she belongs.”

  “Where she belongs? Where she belongs?! Motherfucker, that’s my mama you’re talking about! My mama! She ain’t shit to you!”

  “She’s everything to me! She’s my wife!” I said, slapping my chest with my hand.

  His face went pale so quick, I almost felt sorry for his crazy ass. “You’re lying. You better be lying,” he said, as he stepped backward a bit.

  “Ask her If I’m lying. We’re married; right, baby?”

  28

  One week earlier…

  I felt her shaking me but was so deep in sleep that I couldn’t open my eyes, and instead, groaned and turned my back to her. It felt like I’d only been asleep for ten minutes, and I was feeling the after-effects of playing a hard game and then backing it up with hours of clubbing and sex. My whole body ached, my head pounded, and my eyelids were glued together. But I knew the headache had more to do with her reaction to my proposal than any physical exertion.

  “Leland, wake up,” she said, voice loud, clear. It sounded like she’d gotten her rest. I was jealous.

  “Let me sleep, baby. I’m tireder than a motherfucker,” I mumbled.

  “But our flight leaves in a couple of hours.”

  That made my eyelids come unglued. “Flight? We’re here for two more days.”

  “No, we’re leaving for Vegas in two hours. You gotta get up.”

  I flipped over and stared at her, fully dressed, make-up on her face. She looked serious. No, she looked determined as hell, like a woman on a mission. “You changed our flights?”

  She shook her head. “I got us new tickets.”

  “Why? I mean, I love Vegas, but why?”

  “Because we’re getting married today. I think we could do it here in Mexico, but I wanna do it in the states to be sure it’s legit. Not that it wouldn’t be legit if we did it here, but—”

  I sat up in the bed, dragging my hand down my face and stretching my eyes to be sure I was really awake and hearing what I was hearing. “You wanna get married in Vegas?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “But I thought—last night you said—”

  “I know what I said, and it had more to do with my fears than anything, my fears and the fact that I still don’t trust myself to make the right decisions sometimes. Dre, the ex
who tried to choke me to death? We were engaged once. I agreed to marry him after he had kicked my ass a couple of times because I was just that damn stupid.”

  “Baby—”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No, let me finish.”

  I gave her a nod. “Okay, baby.”

  She sighed and adjusted her body where she was sitting on the bed, folding her hands in her lap. “I’ve made some really dumb decisions, done things I deeply regret, but even though I might have given you a hard time and put a lot of restrictions on us being together, I know choosing to be with you was not a dumb decision. I don’t regret a single moment I’ve spent with you. The first good decision I made in my life was deciding to have Armand even though I was young and afraid and in a horrible relationship with his father. The second good decision I made was deciding to give us a chance. I love you, and although I’m scared and nervous, I’m not unsure. I know marrying you is the right thing to do.

  “I called you impulsive last night, but after lying in this bed and thinking about it, I realized it’s not impulsiveness; it’s that sense of freedom you have that’s just foreign to me. If you want something, you go for it. If you want to do something, you do it. You trust yourself to do what’s right for you, and because I know you love me like no other man ever has, I trust you to do what’s right for me. So, yes, I want to marry you.”

  I left the bed, walked around to her side, and reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet. Then I stared down at her and closed my eyes real tight, because my ass was about to cry. But I didn’t. Instead, I grabbed the back of her head, and kissed her for so long, I was sure both of us almost lost consciousness. Then I held her beautiful face in my hands, and said, “I wish there was some way I could tell you how much I love you. I wish I could show you how deep in my soul you live. I wish I could make you see how much better my world is with you in it. I know I can’t do all that in a way that you’ll really get it, but I’ma try. I’ma spend the rest of my life trying.”

  She smiled up at me. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

  I kissed her again, just a peck this time, but even that made my heart thump in my chest. When I said I loved her, I meant that in the realest way. What I felt for her would last until I took my last breath. I knew that as sure as I knew my name.

  “I’m good with Vegas, real good with us getting married today, but I still ain’t got a ring. When I brought it up last night, I didn’t mean we had to do it now. I was thinking we could have a wedding and your son could walk you down the aisle and stuff like that.”

  She wrapped her arms around me and leaned against me. “I don’t need that, and let’s face it, it might take years for my son to accept us being together. I don’t want to wait that long. I want to be your wife. I want to start our life together, our forever, today.”

  I squeezed her to me and kissed the top of her head. “I’m so glad I found you.”

  “I’m glad you found me, too.”

  We flew to Vegas that afternoon, and around eight that evening, a James Brown impersonator pronounced us a funky husband and wife, and then I took my baby to our expensive-ass Las Vegas suite and consummated the shit out of our marriage.

  29

  Now…

  She didn’t answer me, and for a moment, I started to wonder if she was back on that secret shit again, but that didn’t make sense after the show she put on in Mexico. Hell, him knowing we were married would probably make the whole situation better.

  Maybe.

  Then I noticed him. He’d turned his back to me so that he faced Kim as he waited for her response, too, but his hands were on his head, fingers laced together as if he was trying to understand what he was looking at, as if something was wrong, or he’d done something he shouldn’t have.

  “Kim?” I said.

  Nothing. Complete silence.

  Daniels didn’t move, just stood there like that with his hands on his head. And then something hit me. The whole time we were arguing, she hadn’t said a word. Not one single word, and knowing her like I knew her, that was strange. No way she’d let us go at it that long without at least trying to intervene or get a word in. She loved both of us. That, I knew. She didn’t want us to fight.

  “Daniels,” I said, trying to get his attention as my heart tripled in rate. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

  He still just stood there. Didn’t reply, didn’t move, didn’t do a damn thing, and that pissed me off, because now I knew something was wrong with her and his ass wasn’t doing anything about it. So I shoved past him to find her on the floor of her bedroom, lying in front of her dresser, unconscious with blood on the beige carpet next to her head. It looked like she’d hit her head on something, probably the dresser. As I fell to the floor beside her, a flash of Daniels snatching her out of the doorway and shoving her somewhere popped into my head. I didn’t know if I should move her or if it would hurt her for me to move her. I was a damn basketball player, not a fucking doctor. All I knew was something needed to happen and that she needed help and that Daniels did this shit to her and that if I lost her, I was going to kill his ass, stepson or not.

  “Call nine-one-one!” I shouted at his frozen ass.

  “I-I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never mean to hurt her. It just…it happens. Is she okay?”

  I looked up at him, and screamed, “I don’t know! Call nine-one-one! Now, man! She’s pregnant!”

  That snapped his ass out of that stupor. He stepped back a little, looked down at his mother, and mumbled, “Pregnant?”

  I turned to Kim, placed my hand on her cheek, and whispered, “You’re gonna be okay. You gotta be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  Seeing that he still hadn’t moved a muscle or pulled out a phone, I hopped up, dug my phone out of my pocket, and dialed nine-one-one myself. While I was on the phone with them, I watched him stumble backward through the doorway and then run out of the apartment.

  I awakened keenly aware that I was in the hospital. Specifically, the emergency room. I knew the smell of them, was familiar with the look of them, but was most acquainted with how they made me feel—ashamed, ashamed of how I got there. Embarrassed that Malcolm had hit me so hard, I couldn’t stop my nose from bleeding, or that Shawn had given me a concussion, or that Dre choking me had caused my tongue to swell up…or that Armand had broken my arm. I hated it, hated the pain and the shame and the pitied looks from some nurses, the disappointed looks from others because of my repeat visits and refusal to name my assailant. But since most visits were as a result of my own child’s uncontrollable rage, how could I? What mother would tell on her son, especially when what he’d become was her fault? I’d hit my head, but I remembered. I remembered the all-too-familiar rage I saw coursing through him before he snatched me out of that doorway. I remembered my head connecting with the dresser, and now I was here. In the emergency room.

  Again.

  I felt one huge, warm hand squeeze mine and another resting on my stomach, redirected my sight to my left, and my eyes met his—dark, full of concern and more love than I’d ever thought it was possible for eyes to hold.

  Leland.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  I lay there trying to decide how I felt. Sad, ashamed, hurt, but at the same time, adored in his presence. Since that was all so contradictory and confusing, I asked, “How long have I been here?”

  “A couple of hours. You got a concussion.”

  “Again?” I said dryly, giving him a smile he didn’t return.

  “Kim—”

  “The baby?”

  “The baby’s fine.”

  I blew out a breath as I let my hand rest on my stomach. “Is Armand here, too?”

  He shook his head. “No, he took off before the ambulance made it to your place.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, he can’t handle stuff like this, even when he’s the reason behind it.”

  “Uh…Kim, I know you probably don’t want to talk about t
his, but he…your son said some stuff that made it sound like this isn’t the first time he’s hurt you.”

  I sighed, blinked back tears, and told myself that if I just went ahead and told him, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. It would be done, finally out in the open. A secret I’d held since Armand was a boy would no longer be a burden I bore alone.

  “Armand was twelve or thirteen when he pulled Dre off me and beat him up. By then, he was taller and bigger than me, and after that, his anger issues became more evident. Remember, I said our roles were all muddled? He was my protector, couldn’t stand the idea of anyone hurting me. And I came to depend on that. The problem was, all that he had witnessed made it hard for him to cope with things. His anger? He just couldn’t control it, and more often than not, I received the worst of it. He never meant to hurt me; it was more like I ended up being hurt because there was no one else there. He’d shove me, but he was so strong, I’d fall into or against something and get hurt, like what happened tonight. Or he’d twist my arm while trying to get me out of his way and break it. Stuff like that.

  “Seems like I was always going to the ER for something. I went so much, the nurses begged me to report my partner. My partner.” I shook my head. “I never told them it was my son. I couldn’t tell them that. He had a bright future in basketball. Everyone said so. If I told on him, it could ruin him.”

  Leland squeezed my hand tighter in his. “Did you ever…why didn’t you get him some help? Or did you? Did he get counseling or something?”

  “I tried. I mean, I brought it up, but that made him even angrier, so I left it alone, learned how to stay out of his way when he had his episodes, and by the time he went to college, things were better. Today is the first time anything like this has happened in years, because I learned how not to trigger him, but this? Us? That’s a huge trigger for him. He doesn’t like to feel like a situation is out of his control.”

  “He said you were leaving with him.”