“What ain’t you getting, Darius?” Tasha said as she stepped around the living room picking up dead socks and shoes. “My quota for sorry, black asses is already met,” she said without sentiment.
Andre stood in the door of his brother’s apartment and stared at Darius. This was bullshit. He didn’t cheat on her. Why was she taking it out on him? Darius looked at his brother in the doorway, almost pleading for help. He thought she’d be cooled down by now. Well, he’d hoped.
“Baby, please,” Darius started, but Tasha threw her hand up to stop him, her face hard as stone. The socks dangled like limp snakes in her hand.
“Don’t baby please me, Darius,” she said. “Hood rat brought some trail hoe up in here while I’m at work. Makes me sick thinking what he did with her in my bed. Our bed,” she emphasized. “Uh uh. I don’t think so.” She moved to the couch and straightened the pillows on the couch. “I know he’s your brother, but he ain’t mine.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” Andre asked.
“Not my problem. Same place you went last night, I suppose.” Tasha looked at him without a trace of sympathy. “You need to take responsibility for your own damn self.” Then she looked at Darius unmoving and waved her hands at him. “Go on, then. I don’t know what you all is waiting for.”
As Andre loaded up the rest of his clothes in a black backpack and walked out of his brother’s apartment, one of the leasing agents from the complex across the street approached the group of cops standing in the shade talking.
“Excuse me,” she said, “but I thought you all should see this,” and she handed Melissa a folded up piece of construction paper. “One of our residents heard about the break-ins, and brought this to our attention. She said someone slipped it under her door around one this morning.”
Melissa unfolded the paper and read it to herself, and then smiled as she handed it to me. “Looks like he was looking for a party,” she said, and then flipped open her phone to call our crime analyst.
“Looking for action. First massage is free,” I read aloud, shaking my head. I handed the paper to Sarge, and turned to the leasing agent. “Can you give me the name and apartment number of your resident?”
“Sure, but it’s on our computer,” she said in a business tone. Then without a word, she turned in the direction of the front office, and walked off.
“Can you believe this guy?” Sarge said. “Left his phone number and signed it his name. Dre. How stupid can you be?” and he handed the paper back to Melissa. “Tell her to call Felony to get them started.” Melissa nodded her head and walked away in conversation.
“Wait. Dre?” I said. “As in Andre? That’s the the name of our guy from this morning.”
Sarge shook his head, looked at me with his eyebrows raised in expectation, and waved his hands in the direction of the leasing agent. “Office. Go.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
To be honest, I thought I would be done with this story by now, but court being what court is, the whole story is not done in real life yet. So I will get back to it eventually. Promise.