What's His Is Mine Read online

  All I could think of was all this for a dollar off. Could she see a manager—that’s what I didn’t want to hear. Ugh! I thought. People behind her were getting mad. One lady called out, “Come on now, I have to go to work.” There was nothing I could do but get her a manager. I called for Lenora to come to my register. She tried to explain to the woman that we couldn’t use a coupon for something she didn’t have. The lady wasn’t hearing it. The one-hundred-ounce container was on sale, not the sixty-four-ounce container that she had, but Lenora just gave it to her anyway to keep the line moving.

  When I got off work, I was supposed to be taking the boys to GameStop and to Burger King. I wanted to take a nap, but as soon as I came through the door, the twins came running.

  “Aunt Key, you taking us to the GameStop to get a new game today, right?”

  “Yeah, Kyle. Let me take a shower, then we are going to go. Where is your mom?”

  “My mommy sleep. Her head hurt.”

  I walked into Lisa’s cluttered room. There were shoes and clothes piled knee high in heaps all around the room. An empty Pepsi bottle and an open bag of potato chips were in the bed with her. She was sprawled across the bed with the blanket covering her head.

  “Lisa, you okay?” I asked.

  “No, my head is hurting. This migraine is killing me.”

  “Did you take anything?”

  “Yeah, a few Excedrins. If I don’t feel better by tomorrow, I’m going to go to the doctor.”

  “Do you want me to get you something?”

  “No, just close my door. I’m going to take a nap. Can you make sure the boys eat dinner?”

  “I was going to take them out with me anyway.”

  Lisa muttered, “Okay.” I tiptoed out of her room and went downstairs and told the boys to be quiet so their mom could rest. I felt sorry for my sister—she always got bad headaches. I think they come from stressing over Mikey. So until she left him her headaches were going to stay.

  Me and the boys caught the bus to the plaza where the GameStop was. I was planning to spend only fifty dollars on them. As soon as we walked into the store, I steered them into the Used section of the store. I could not afford to buy them a single game for sixty dollars each. They didn’t know any better, and picked out games in my price range and were happy with them.

  From GameStop we went to Burger King, and then came home to play their new games. That would keep them busy the rest of the night. Once we were home I checked my messages. No one had called and that was sad. I needed to get a life besides my nephews. I walked out of my bedroom and into the living room and took a seat on the sofa.

  “You going to play us in Smack Down vs. Raw?” Kyle asked. I told him I would and held my hand out to take the controller. It only took me a few moments to beat Kyle on the game.

  “Aunt Kiya, you cheating,” Kyle said as my player pinned his down.

  “How come every time I win, I cheated. You are a sore loser, Kyle.”

  “I’m not a sore loser. I don’t want to play anymore!” he shouted and threw the controller down and then he ran to the steps and began crying. Miles was teasing him and calling him a cry baby. I tried to comfort him, telling him that he couldn’t cry every time he lost, but he was still huffing and puffing and refused to play. I’d had enough of the game and went and checked on Lisa.

  I peeked in on her. She was asleep, but Mikey was in bed with her. I told him I was sorry for opening the door and not knocking. I was tired myself and couldn’t wait for the weekend to come.

  Chapter 3

  Cherise Long

  I was waiting to hear the countdown in my ear before I went live. My producer gave me a two-minute warning.

  “Okay,” I said as I checked myself out in my mini compact. My photographer turned the bright light on and it was showtime.

  “Good evening. I’m here in College Park, and there is an explanation tonight as to why when the people in this neighborhood order pizza, they get more than they’d bargained for. In the past two weeks, residents in this neighborhood have been plagued with missing televisions. With us now is one of the victims.

  “Ma’am, can you tell us what happened?” I asked as I looked over at the woman I was interviewing. Right before the camera lights came on she was very poised, but now I could tell she was becoming nervous. Her eyes became very big and she started stuttering.

  “All I know is a few days ago, I came home and my television was gone.”

  “At the time, did you have a clue as to who had taken your television?” I asked.

  “None whatsoever. I just knew someone had climbed in my window and stole my TV. They didn’t take anything else. Just the TV. And then I was talking to the lady down the street, and her television was gone, too. That ain’t right. We are working people. We all had one thing in common though: Jerome! He’s the man who delivers all of our pizzas.”

  I nodded a few times, and then I turned my attention off of her and looked straight into the camera.

  “Tonight our sources are telling us that pizza delivery man Jerome Reid of Riverdale is in police custody this evening and is being charged with a string of burglaries. This is Cherise Long, reporting for Action 7 News.”

  I waited to get the signal that I was clear, and turned my mic off. I thanked the woman for the interview and then took my earpiece out.

  I jumped back into our Action 7 News van with my photographer, Gary, and headed back to the station. I was a general assignment reporter at Action 7 News. I had been on the job for four months, but in the news business almost five years.

  After attending Northwestern University, I landed my first job in Corpus Christi, Texas, for two years. Then from Texas I moved over to Birmingham, Alabama, as a general assignment reporter for almost three years. Now I was here in Atlanta, and I loved it. Atlanta is the eighth biggest market in the country, and I was still adjusting to the fast pace. In Texas, I was always reporting on cow tipping and a bunch of other farm stories, and Alabama was a little busier, but not like here.

  My sister Toni and her husband lived right outside of Atlanta, so it made the transition easier. Toni was five years older than me, but she acted like the younger sister at times. She and her husband had been living here for the last ten years. They didn’t have any children together, but her husband had a smart-mouthed preteen daughter, Tatiyana, from his first marriage and she was always over.

  Toni was a teacher and her husband, Dave, owned a real estate company. Their marriage was currently on the rocks, though. Dave’s company hadn’t been doing so well and my sister just lost fifty pounds. She dropped the weight, but gained the I look better than anyone complex. She began losing the weight last year when she found out Dave was cheating. He apologized and was remorseful, but she blamed it on her weight. So her husband now had to deal with a wife who was skinny, made more money than him, and was still mad that he cheated.

  Toni was my best friend as well as my sister. Most sisters argue, but I always wanted to be like my sister. She was five years older than me, which meant she was always a step ahead. She helped me with my whole life. She had already made the mistakes and told me what to do once I reached certain points in my life.

  She taught me how to ride a bike, jump rope, and braid hair. In high school, she told me that my body was a prize and not to reward just any-ole-one. I listened to her because she was always right. Anytime that I didn’t listen to her, I paid for it.

  I believe that our dysfunctional family back in Charlotte assisted with our closeness, too. My sister and I knew from the beginning that normal families didn’t cuss each other out and fight, but those Longs did. They fought, cursed, stole, and got sent to jail. My sister and I were never like them. We grew up living without our mother and father. Our father had his own blues band and he traveled overseas most of the time. They would send us money from his shows. At first my mother stayed home with us, but by the time I was in kindergarten she was back on the road with him. My father, Stanley, said he wanted
to play bass all over the world. My mother said, “Okay, baby, follow your dreams.” It didn’t matter to them that they had two children. Rita just went along with whatever Stanley said. They would come into town, check on us, give our grandfather money for us, and then be back on the road. But from the very beginning, Toni and I just knew since we were little that we didn’t belong with our father’s family. The Longs were, for lack of a better word, ghetto. It was nothing for my uncle to drink beer for breakfast, fix a car on the lawn, or get locked up every other weekend for robbing someone or fighting with his fat girlfriend. When I was in college on breaks, I would go stay with friends at their houses instead of going home. Even today, I never went home to visit. I always tried to stay away. The Longs suffered from too many secrets, lies, and madness. No one would believe that the beautiful, doe-eyed, golden brown news reporter with a perfect physique and a winning smile had a family like mine.

  My condo was a long way from my Charlotte family drama. My ninth-floor Peachtree Street condo in downtown Atlanta was serene and peaceful. My place was very diva-ish and gaudy, but I loved it. I had plum leather furniture, a huge fireplace, a big chandelier, and a balcony with a view of the city.

  I was thankful for it being a slow news day. I had enough time to go home and relax for a little while and then head to the National Association of Black Journalists reception. Just as I was taking my clothes off, my phone rang.

  “Do you have time for drinks?” Toni’s squeaky voice asked.

  “No, I have to go to an NABJ event this evening. You know I’m new to town—I have to network, but you’re welcome to join me.”

  “A roomful of journalists sounds boring.” She laughed.

  “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I have to get ready. I’ll try to squeeze you in this weekend.”

  “You better.”

  My sister was so crazy. I loved her, though. I loved my life, but there was something missing. Yes, that four-letter word, L-O-V-E. I know you have heard it before. So here it is again—I was a very successful African-American woman, but yet I was very single. I wanted to fall in love. It’s just that I was too busy working and the right person hadn’t come along yet. So I’d been celibate for two years. I should have been having sex all the time at twenty-seven, but I was not getting it at all. This celibacy thing didn’t start off as some spiritual journey, I just hadn’t met a worthy candidate.

  People thought because I was on television that it was easier for me to meet men. But to be honest, it was much harder for me than the average woman. I hate to use the I word, but it’s true—many men I met were intimidated. They thought, Why would she be interested in me? or I know she is already taken.

  My last relationship was with my college sweetheart, Travis. He was perfect while we were in school, but after graduating we both knew it wouldn’t work. I had to go where the jobs were, and he already had a job waiting for him in Louisville, KY. Of course he moved on, he had a live-in girlfriend, and he was happy. I was happy, too, but would be happier if I was in a relationship. So in the meantime, I distracted myself with my career and tried not to focus on my single status.

  I looked at the clock and realized I had wasted a lot of time thinking. I only had a half hour to get ready for the NABJ event.

  The event was being held at the W Hotel. I walked into the crowded room and ordered a chardonnay and looked around to see if I saw any of my colleagues from the station or anyone who looked familiar. I saw Gavin. We went out a few times. He was a columnist at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and he just so happened to live in the building I was initially going to move into, but at the last minute the deal fell through. Nothing’s really wrong with him. He just has a bad sense of humor. I’m not going to say the ridiculous line that he is too nice. But he wasn’t my type. He was about five-foot-nine, and when I wore my heels I was taller than him. Aside from the height issue, I just didn’t see Gavin in that manner.

  I went up to him and tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Gavin.”

  He turned around and said, “You look great.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How’s everything going?” he whispered as he put his hand around my waist.

  “No complaints,” I said casually. I wanted to come and meet new people, not be stuck with Gavin.

  “When are we going to spend some time together?” he asked with a hopeful look on his face.

  “I don’t know. Soon,” I said as I removed his hand from my waist. We talked a little and then I went to mingle about the party.

  I saw Deborah Ellerbe, who was someone I wanted to meet. She had been at the station since the late seventies. She was the station’s first African-American anchorwoman. I read her bio at the station, and I was so impressed and wanted to get to know her. However, I never wanted to go up to her like a nervous fan. She had a great career. The National Media Association honored her with a lifetime achievement award and she was in the Georgia Association of Broadcasters hall of fame, and she won a regional Emmy for editorial excellence nine times. She also served as a chair on several charities. I was getting so excited. Deborah Ellerbe was just the type of person or mentor I needed. I looked over and saw her stop Gavin. Gavin left, then he came back over to her with glass of wine. As he was walking back in my direction, I pulled him over to me and asked, “Gavin, do you know her?”

  “She is my mom’s sorority sister.”

  “Really? Can you introduce us? You never told me that.”

  “I did a couple of times. Shows how much you pay attention to me. After she finishes up her conversation, I’ll introduce y’all,” he said. The couple she was talking to was walking away and she was headed in our direction.

  “Here she comes, Gavin,” I said.

  He turned around. “Auntie, I want to introduce you to a good friend of mine, Cherise Long. Cherise is a reporter at Action 7.”

  “Well, nice to meet you.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Ellerbe. Congratulations on all of your success.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m new at the station,” I said, managing to keep the nervousness out of my voice. “You have had an amazing career.”

  “Well, thank you. I’ve seen you around. You’re pretty and I’m sure you will do well at Action 7,” she said.

  I felt so honored I wanted to break out in a big grin, but I maintained my professionalism. “Thank you, it is really an honor to have met you. I hope to have such an illustrious career as yours.”

  “Well, thank you. You are so sweet.” She looked over at Gavin and said, “Honey, she is a keeper.”

  We both smiled.

  “Gavin, have your mom call me. And, Cherise, you should come to my ladies only luncheon in a few weeks.”

  “I would love to.”

  “Okay, I’ll send the information through Gavin to you.”

  “See, you might want to roll with me,” Gavin said with a bragging tone. I laughed at him. I still didn’t want him, but I was grateful for his connection.

  Chapter 4

  Zakiya

  I was in the bed, totally drained. Yesterday was the first of the month and three people called out. The first of the month was when everyone got their stamps and Social Security checks. Every customer that I rung up was the wrong price or size or something. Then all the customers acted like they couldn’t help me bag their food. I bagged so many bags yesterday my arms were sore. My check was going to look real good, though, with eight hours of overtime on it.

  But this morning I was paying for my sixteen-hour workday. I hit the snooze button six times already. The first time I hit snooze the clock read 6:30. The second time 6:45, and the last time I looked at the clock it was 7:18. I hit the button and closed my eyes and thought, I just need ten more minutes of rest. That was an hour ago. I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. It read 8:15.

  I immediately jumped up. The boys were going to be late for school. I threw my clothes on and ran in their room screaming, “Miles and Ky
le, get up!” Their room was empty. I peeked in Lisa’s room. She was folding clothes and singing along to the Mariah Carey song that was blasting.

  I screamed over the loud music, “Lise, where are the twins?”

  “At school.”

  “You took them to school?”

  “Yeah, I did. I got up early. I feel much better. That migraine had me down yesterday.”

  “Did you make their lunch?”

  “I bought them hoagies from the corner store. There is a little breakfast left on the table,” she said, not looking up from folding clothes.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I’m going to eat and then get ready for work,” I said, closing her door. Something was going on with Lisa. She hadn’t gotten the boys ready for school since last school year. I was confused, but I was just happy that the boys got to school on time. I walked into the kitchen and served myself eggs, bacon, grits, and toast. Lisa came downstairs dragging a bag of clothes.

  “What are you doing with all that stuff?” I asked as I munched on my bacon.

  “I just went through my closet. I have all these clothes I don’t even wear. I’m going to give them to the Salvation Army. You can look in the bag and see if you like anything.”

  “Okay. I have to get ready for work,” I said as I jammed a piece of toast into my mouth. “I’ll look later.”

  I ran upstairs to get dressed. I took my uniform out of my neat closet and placed it on the bed. My shoes were perfectly aligned and all my hangers were going in the same direction. I started to take off my clothes to go get in the shower when Lisa knocked on the door and handed me her black shoe boots.

  “Here, you can have these,” she said.

  “These are your favorites. Why are you giving them to me?”

  “I don’t like them anymore. I want some new boots. I want everything new.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll drive you to work. I have to stop past Aunt Darla’s house.”