Hours later, Kareem parked in front of 757 Madison Avenue. He nodded at his doorman and scanned the lobby. Struck by the lobby’s luminous quality, Kareem suddenly appreciated the Van Gogh paintings lining the Carrara marble corridor that led to the elevators.
“Toi! Sweetheart, I’m home,” Kareem shouted as he shut and locked the loft door behind him.
There was no response. He heard soft music playing. The music came from the living room. He traced Ginuwine’s voice, a track from his album titled, The Senior. He followed the smooth balladeer to the living room, and found Toi on the sofa.
She was startled by Kareem’s early arrival home and suspiciously hid something behind her back. He witnessed her surreptitious behavior and his excitement to see her had morphed into a distrustful sleuth.
She hoped that he did not recognize her movements and cheerfully greeted him. “Hey baby! I’m glad your home. I’ve missed you like crazy.”
He stood in front of her with his face twisted in disgust. “Oh! You did, huh?” He asked and recalled her moment with Shimir. He tried to desperately keep his cool before he confronted her. But all of his stuffed heartbreak swam to the surface, and he could not tolerate her flagrant disrespect anymore; but, he did not want to reveal his hand just yet. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pretended to be just as elated to see her. Toi flung her arms open, inviting him into her space, but remained seated.
Kareem held his ground. “No! Get up, so I can squeeze that...,” he told her, and gawked lustfully at her ass.
Toi smiled wildly, but he did not get up. “Baby, I’m tired, because I’ve been at the doctor’s all morning. Add to that, I’m comfortable. So, come over here.” She demanded, and then sealed it with, “Ple-e-e-e-ase.”
He did not care about her sexy, innocent look. He was adamant that she stand. He had McKenzey to deal with, along with a host of other mundane things to tend to. He would not deal with her nonsense. “Doctor’s office? What’s wrong with you?”
The way he asked the question, offended her. “Nothing’s- wrong-with-me! I, uh, just went to see my gynecologist for an exam,” she said, looking at the ground.
“What the fuck you got? For your sake—”
“I don’t have shit,” she said interrupting him. “You gave me something.”
Kareem could not fight the devil off his back. “What, bitch? What the fuck could I have given you?” He yelled and hesitated, before slamming her with a powerful thunder of verbal insults. “You have been having a sordid relationship with that hood nigga, and you probably got something from him. What, you don’t think that these walls or the streets talk?”
“But, Kareem—”
“Don’t interrupt me when I am fucking talking. I’ve had enough of your bullshit. I work hard and you fucking complain.
You had the audacity to have that nigga up in my crib, too.” He ended his rant and walked over to the bar and poured himself straight 151-proof vodka.
She cringed with each word that he yelled. She got herself together and looked forlornly. “You’re one-hundred-percent right. This is an opulent lifestyle. It’s packed with high fashion, amazing parties, and smooching celebs. That’s all dandy, but —”
“I’m not tryinna here this bullshit,” he said and sipped his cocktail.
“Let me finish. That’s all gravy, but all I want is you. Yes, I have been hanging with a male, but I saw him as a friend. He tried to kiss me and when I pushed him away, he bruised me.” She removed her jacket and revealed the mark that Shimir had left. “I need a male friend. Like the old Kareem Bezel used to be. Not like that all-important, millionaire-influenced, workaholic Bjorn Prodigy.” She sounded as if she had rehearsed those lines for weeks.
He sat his glass down and clapped his hands. “And the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Cheating Thriller goes to...” He sipped his drink, and then walked toward her. “Listen carefully, no one will invent a copy machine with a feature to replica me. I cannot believe you have such a hard time accepting my ambition. That’s just too bad because, I promised myself that I would take care of myself and my family with my intelligence. Simple as that! So can that bullshit. You’re here, or you’re not.” He paused to sip his drink, and then politely asked, “What’s behind your back?”
“I don’t have anything behind my back.” She again whined, as she sat back deeper into the sofa and wiggled around in an attempt to further conceal the item.
“I don’t believe that you have the audacity to lie to me, Toi,” he told her, pulling a 9x11 gift-wrapped box from behind her back. He unwittingly went on to scold her, as he snatched the paper off the gift. “What’s this for that nigga? You have to
wake up at the crack of dawn to pull one over on me. You thought that you were getting over on me. Little Bobby next door already alerted me to your cheating. He asked if I knew your brother. I didn’t know you had one. But if he’s your brother, what the fuck am I?”
“A father!” she said, as he pulled a book from the box.