Take Her Man

“I don’t know, Porsche,” Tasha said. I saw tears welling in her eyes. “It may be too late for all that.”

“Baby, it’s never too late. It’s never too late to make right what you’ve done wrong in the past. Just let me make it up to you. That’s all I’m asking. Just let me be a part of this. I’ll do anything you want.”

Tasha looked down and started to cry. I began rubbing her shoulders softly. I looked out of the window to see a small crowd of photographers gathering in front of the restaurant. A camera flashed and Tasha looked up at the window.

A man carrying a camera bag came up to our table in the restaurant with a tape recorder in his hand.

“Porsche, is it true that you’re reuniting with your daughter, the wife of star basketball player Lionel Laroche?” he asked.

“What?” Porsche looked stunned. “This is a personal matter.”

“Get the fuck out of here!” Tasha said, getting up. She looked at Porsche. “What the hell is going on? Did you do this?” She pointed to the cameras that were flashing constantly outside the window. “Did you set this up for publicity? I knew it.”

“No, baby,” Porsche said frantically. “I wouldn’t do that.” She looked at me. “Maybe it was someone at the hotel. A leak or something.”

“Whatever. Don’t flatter yourself.” Tasha began to walk away. “This has your bullshit written all over it. You used me when I was young to get close to my father…and your tired ass is trying to use me now.” She ran out of the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, Ms. St. Simon,” I said, getting up to follow Tasha. “She’s really upset.”

“She walked outside,” said the woman at the front desk when I walked into the lobby of the hotel.

I ran outside and down the street behind Tasha.

“Wait up, Tasha,” I screamed.

“You don’t know that woman,” Tasha cried. “You don’t know her like I do.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, you didn’t know, so you should’ve minded your fucking business.”

“I’m sorry, really. I thought it was a good idea,” I said, trying to make Tasha stop walking away from the hotel.

“You know why she had me, Troy?”

“No.”

“My mother got pregnant by one of the producers of the show. That’s how she got on that damn soap opera,” Tasha cried. “She got knocked up with me. And when he got tired of playing Daddy behind his real wife’s back, she tossed me to the side. She locked me up in a hotel to be someone else’s problem.”

“Okay. I hear you,” I said calmly. “But Porsche was right. That’s the past. You’re all grown up now and you have to let that go.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me about letting go. Your life is perfect,” Tasha said, pointing at me. “It’s fucking perfect. Your parents are together and you don’t have to worry about this kind of shit. If I didn’t have Lionel, I wouldn’t have anything. So don’t you dare tell me about what I need to let go of.”

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. And if anyone knows that my life isn’t perfect, it’s you.”

“You know”—Tasha turned to face me—“I think it’s time you turned around and went back to the hotel. I really don’t want to talk to you any more.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“Where I’m going is my business. Just like my life. So stay the fuck out of it.” Tasha turned and walked away.

I was shaking and crying uncontrollably by the time I made it back up to the suite. Tasha had run away and I couldn’t find Porsche anywhere. I didn’t know anything about Los Angeles and I had no clue where Tasha might have gone. I felt so helpless, and my head was flooded with questions about why Tamia and I had done what we did. We might’ve ruined our friendship with Tasha forever. She was a good friend and she didn’t deserve to be hurt or embarrassed. What were we thinking? Now this was added to all the stuff with my family and Julian. My entire world was spinning and I was finding it hard to hold my ground.

“Tamia, Tasha left,” I called, walking into the suite. There was total silence. I went into her room and she wasn’t there, so I instinctively headed toward the bathroom. “Tamia,” I called, knocking on the closed door. Again there was silence. I knocked again and then I turned the doorknob. As soon as the door opened a little bit, I could see Tamia’s body on the floor in front of the basin. “Tamia!” I screamed. I pushed my way in and fell to the floor beside her. She was laying there, completely cold in a little pool of what looked like blood and vomit. I kept shaking her, but her body was so heavy and stiff, I couldn’t lift her up.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” I cried forcing myself to get up off of the floor and get to the telephone. “I’m in the penthouse. I need help. I need an ambulance,” I screamed into the phone at the woman at the front desk. “Her name is Tamia Dinkins. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s just lying on the floor. I think…I think she’s dead.”

I hung up the phone and tried to wake Tamia again, but she still wasn’t moving. The bathroom was beginning to feel smaller and smaller. I was fighting just to take in air so I wouldn’t pass out.