“Going to talk to Tulane,” I answered her.
“You should fuck his office up instead of talking to him,” she suggested, and I stopped walking to look at her. I lifted my brow in surprise, and she smiled. “You’ve been peaceful, you know, not talking or cussing a little, but that nigga hasn’t heard shit you’ve said. Fuck his shit up, and I bet he’ll call Amethyst to come get your ass or at least talk you off the ledge.”
“I agree,” Berkeley said with a laugh. “Kick that nigga shit over, flip a table, and I bet you he’ll start doing what you ask.”
“I’m not doing all that,” I said, shaking my head. They shared a disappointed look, and I turned and walked away. I knew that Berkeley had been giving Tulane hell, and I wasn’t surprised that Clarke was too. I left the kitchen with them on my heels. When I got to his office at the end of the hallway, I knocked twice, then opened the door.
Tulane sat at his desk, his attention on his computer, but he looked up when I cleared my throat. “What can I do for you, Yale?” he asked, then turned back to his computer.
“Amethyst was here.” It was more of a statement than a question, but he nodded anyway. “Call him and tell him to come back.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking you, Tulane,” I laughed as I walked around his office. I looked over at Berkeley and Clarke, who were watching me and smiling. I was about to do precisely what they’d suggested, and they knew it. “I’m telling you to call his ass and tell him to come and get me, or I’m going to start showing the fuck out.”
Tulane turned to face me and smirked. He sat back in his seat, crossed his arms, and swayed. “Do what you have to do, Yale, but remember that everything you break in here, he is going to replace,” he laughed. “He warned me about your temper already, and I know you’ve been talking to those two over there, and they aren’t the best influence.”
“Look at you learning to compliment your daughters,” Berkeley gushed as she smiled at Tulane. “You’re starting to get this parent thing down.”
“He’s a bit of a slow learner, but he’s getting there,” Clarke agreed as she nodded. “It’s taken you what? Two months to get to this spot? I’m kind of proud of you.”
“Geeh, thanks,” he sarcastically replied.
“You’re welcome, don’t ever say we didn’t have faith in you,” Clarke said. She turned to me and dug into her pocket. “Here, take this against anything that’s made of glass.” She handed me a small metal device that looked like a pick. “It’s a glass puncher; it’ll shatter everything in here. I planned to use it later, but I think you will do it justice.”
I took the puncher from her and walked around Tulane’s office. He was putting on a good front, but I could see the panic in his eyes. He didn’t want me to use this, or, more than likely, even show out, but I was tired of being the good daughter. All three of them had cussed him out, threatened to kill him, and were driving him crazy. The most I’d done is yell once or twiceand cuss a few times. I may not have been directly mad at him, but he was the one I would take my anger out on.
I put the punch against his TV and looked at him. “Call Amethyst,” I said, and he shook his head. I looked over at Clarke because I wasn’t sure how to use this and lifted my brow.
“Press your thumb against the top like you would a pen to make the tip come out,” she said, and moved her thumb in the motion to show me.
I did as she said and watched as the TV's glass shattered. I turned back to Tulane to see his stunned reaction. “I’m going to keep doing this until you do what I ask and call him.” I walked to the coffee table and pressed the punch against an ugly ass vase that set in the middle of the table. “Call.” Tulane shook his head, so I pressed the top of the pen. Just like the TV, it splintered, but unlike the TV, the vase broke apart. I moved on to the table and broke it.
“Yale,” he called out, but I was on a roll. I broke the frames on the wall that held his degrees and our pictures. When I got to the large bay window, I paused and looked at him. “Heaskedme not to call him.”
“And I’mtellingyou to call him,” I said, pressing the punch against the window. I waited, counted to three in my head, then pressed the top to shatter the window. “All you have to do is pick up that damn phone, call him, and hand it to me. I will take care of it from there.”
“I can’t,” he grunted.
“Why?” I asked as I moved to the other window. When he didn’t answer fast enough, I shattered that window and the one next to it. “Why can’t you call him, Tulane?” I approached him, stood on the other side of his desk, and stared him in the eyes. “Why can’t you call him?”
“Because he said he doesn’t want you around,” he answered as he watched me.
“What?” I reared back like he hit me. “What did you say?”
“He doesn’t want you around,” he repeated, then stopped swaying. “That’s why he brought your case. It was the last thing of yours left at his house. He said stop calling him, make your fucking jewelry, and live your life.”
“He didn’t say that,” I said, shaking my head.
“If you think I’m lying, ask Spelman; she was in here when he said it.” Tulane shrugged.
I left his office and went to find Spelman, grabbing the case from the kitchen on the way. She wasn’t in her room, which meant she was in the living room. I retraced my steps and found her sitting in the living room, working on her computer. I closed the distance between us and slammed her laptop shut.
“What the hell?” she said, looking up at me. “What’s wrong?”
“What did Amethyst tell Tulane?” I said to her.
“When?”
