I noticed the deep creases in her forehead as she walked to my door, closed it, I guess, to keep out the listening ears of any contractors, then stood with her arms folded. “Okay, you’re gonna have to start explaining this one, because right now, chica, you sound like William Jefferson Clinton.”
That would’ve been funny, except that it wasn’t. I did sound like the former president.
“You’d better start talking,” she demanded.
So I did. I told her everything, skipping, of course, the night before the wedding, because she knew that part. But I told her about Trey texting me on our honeymoon, and then meeting me here in my office. As she heard the story, all that happened that morning after she’d left me alone, she sank into the chair with her mouth open.
“Damn!” she said.
“But it was only that one time,” I whined, needing Sonia to know that I wasn’t a serial cheater.
“Damn!” Then she added, “Right here?”
I nodded. “On my desk.”
Both of our glances dipped, taking in the desk, and Sonia pushed her chair back just a little.
Since I was telling her everything, I wanted her to know that I hadn’t taken that risk for nothing. “Sonia, I have never felt the way Trey made me feel.”
She shook her head. “And so for a feeling you’re willing to throw away your marriage?”
“No! I love Damon. And that’s why I knew I had to stop Trey. Somehow. And I did.” I finished the story, telling her about the last two incidents on Thursday and how I’d won them both. “I resisted, that’s all that matters. Even though I wanted Trey with my body, I wanted Damon with my heart.” I paused; telling that story had left me feeling spent. “But that feeling . . .”
She gave me one of those eyebrow-raised-girlfriend-please looks. “Just remember it’s that feeling that has you in this predicament.”
“I know,” I moaned. “And she wants fifty thousand dollars for the pictures.”
“You took pictures?” she shouted. Now the look on her face was one of those who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-friend glares.
“No! I wouldn’t take any pictures!” I hissed. “And keep your voice down.”
“Then what is she talking about?”
“I don’t know. She said she has pictures.”
She let out a sigh and shook her head. “You are so green. Suppose she doesn’t? Suppose she doesn’t have a single picture and is just playin’ you?”
“I thought of that,” I said, with an attitude, even though I hadn’t. “But the question remains, suppose she does?”
For a moment, Sonia didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was studying me and the situation. “I don’t know, chica. I have a bad feeling about this. Like she’ll get this money from you and never stop. Or she’ll get the money and the pictures will show up anyway.”
“Oh, I’m gonna get the pictures. If I give her money, I’ll get the pictures.”
Now, her look said yeah, right! “But even if she gives you every picture that she allegedly has, that won’t do anything. It’s not like photos have negatives anymore. Everything is digital. With one hand she can be depositing your money, and with the other hand she could be pressing a button to post the photos on every social media site known.”
Another thing that I hadn’t thought about.
“Wait, was she black or white?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. How am I supposed to know that? She called on the phone, she didn’t come to meet me.”
“Oh, come on.” Sonia bounced back in her chair. “You can tell what most people are even over the phone. Was she black or white?”
I squinted, trying to remember the voice. “She sounded white . . . I guess. But you never know. Why? What difference does that make?”
Sonia leaned forward; she glanced at the desk before she laid her arms on the edge. “’Cause I would’ve been suspicious of a black girl. We don’t blackmail. We’re too emotional, we’re into instant gratification. So if we know information like this, we don’t think about monetizing it. We go for the gusto and tell all that we know to everyone that we know. It’s all about the gossip for us.” Now Sonia stood and paced beside the chair. “But a white woman”—she shook her head—“white people are all about money. They have the patience for blackmailing.” She spoke as if she were stating scientific facts.
“Well, while my life is falling apart, thank you for that lesson on the blackmailing skills of the races.”
She stopped moving. “You might not appreciate it, but I’m telling you what I know. And that means that if a white girl called, it could be legitimate. I’m not saying that it is, but there’s a better chance.”
“Well, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
Sonia gave me a long look before she came around the side of the desk and perched herself next to me once again. “And what I’m about to tell you is not going to make you feel better either.” She took my hand. “This blackmail . . . if it’s real, it may never end.” Another breath as she reached for my other hand. “You’re going to have to tell Damon.”
I snatched my hands away, opened my drawer, pulled out a bottle of aspirin, and handed it to her.
With the deepest of frowns, she asked, “What do you want me to do with this?”
I folded my arms before I said, “Count the number of pills, because I’m about to swallow them all, and then you’ll be able to give everyone the cause of my death, right down to the number of pills they won’t need to pump from my body.”
She glared at me and I gave her a hard stare right back. “That’s not even funny.”
“And I’m not trying to be funny. Because for the first time . . .” I paused and swallowed so that I could speak through the lump in my throat, but my words only came out in a whisper. “For the first time, I completely understand what my mother did . . . and why she did it.”
Sonia hunched down and looked at me. “It’s not that serious.”
“Yes, it is. Things haven’t been good with me and Damon.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. He says that he hasn’t been feeling well, but I think it’s more than that.” I stopped for a moment, remembering just how distant Damon remained. “He hasn’t touched me, he hasn’t kissed me, he hardly talks to me.”
She frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Damon.”
“I know. And so, if he’s acting like that now and were to find out about this . . .” I shook my head, not even wanting to imagine his pain. “I couldn’t do this to him.”
She nodded during her pause before she said, “Think about it this way. You’re not doing anything to him, you’re informing him so that he can help you.” She held up her hand as if she anticipated me speaking, but I didn’t have any words. “I think you should tell him everything, like you told me. How Trey targeted you from the moment he met you at the airport. Tell Damon that Trey came to your wedding just to do this to you, just to humiliate Damon. He’ll believe you because, remember, it was Trey’s idea to come.”
I thought about what she’d said. “You really think this is just about Damon?”
She nodded. “I do. For whatever reason, he hates Damon and this is the way he proved it.” After a moment of thought, she added, “You know what? He could be the one behind the call.”
“What?”
She stood and began to do that pacing thing again; apparently that was how she did her best thinking. “Now that I think about it, suppose Trey put someone up to call you. Yeah, that makes sense. Suppose he’s just trying to get money out of you.” She stopped moving. “Oh my God! I think it’s Trey.”
“You think?”
“I do.” Sitting back down, she said, “Maybe you should call him. Maybe he’ll tell you that he did it or at least give himself away with something he says.”
Even
though I didn’t want to speak to Trey, that was a good idea. Not that I had a plan for what I would do if he admitted he’d called, but at least I’d know something for sure. “I don’t have his number, though.”
“Dang.” She blinked a couple of times. “Wait. He texted you. Give me your phone.”
I did as she demanded.
“Do you remember the area code of the number he texted you from?”
I shook my head and shrugged at the same time. “I didn’t lock him in. I wasn’t trying to keep anything going with him. I told you—”
She interrupted me. “Would you just focus? Try to remember. Did he call from an Atlanta area code?”
With a nod, I said, “I think so, try 404.”
It only took her a few seconds to search, only a few moments to scan through the texts she found and then only a single moment to read one of them and shake her head. “Here.” She pushed the phone back to me. “There’s his number. Call him. Put it on speaker.”
I glanced down at the phone and the text that she’d found:
I can’t wait to see you, I can’t wait to have you. I can’t wait to screw the hell out of you.
As happened every time I had some kind of encounter with Trey, I had to squeeze my legs together, and I kept my eyes down and away from Sonia’s. I pressed the icon to dial the number.
“Don’t tell him that you’re on to him,” Sonia whispered. “Just tell him that you got the call and see what he says.”
I nodded and as the phone rang, my heart ached. Had all of this been just a way to get back at Damon? Had I been the most naïve pawn ever used in a game?
“Tiffanie.”
I might have not known his number, but he seemed to know mine. That wasn’t what had my attention, though. I zoomed in on the way he said my name. The way he drew that longing out of me, even while I was in the midst of this misery.
He said, “I didn’t expect to hear from you, not with the way you treated me last week.”
Sonia mouthed: Just get to the point.
I said, “I got a call . . . from a woman . . . she’s blackmailing me.”
“Really? I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She said she has pictures of you and me.”
“Wow.”
The word was one of surprise, but not his tone.
He added, “I wonder if I can see those pictures.” There was laughter in his voice.
My eyes narrowed. Trey was behind this! “So . . . you took pictures of us?”
“Now, Tiffanie.” He slow-jammed my name again. “When would I have had time to do that? My eyes, my hands, my mouth were always focused only on you.”
Trey wasn’t standing right in front of me, but I still felt like I was in a battle. Not with his person but with the memories. It was probably only because Sonia was sitting there that I was able to keep my focus. “Trey, do you know about these pictures or not?”
He chuckled. “Look, this is your drama, don’t bring it into my life.”
Sonia mouthed: Damon.
My best friend wanted me to threaten my almost-lover with my husband. But I hated saying my husband’s name to him. “She said that she’s going to tell Damon.”
“And . . . like I said”—he brought his cadence to half speed as if he thought if he slowed down, I might understand him better—“this is your personal problem. You’re on your own.”
“So, you don’t care if Damon finds out?”
His laugh was filled with contempt. “I don’t give a fuck about your husband. And really, Tiffanie, I don’t give a fuck about you.” His laugh continued, and when I heard the wickedness inside that sound, I finally got it. It was his laugh, even more than his despicable words.
He kept on laughing and my tears were already falling when I pressed End. Sonia rushed around the desk, leaned over, and held me in her arms.
“Chica, lo siento. I’m just so sorry.”
I didn’t allow myself too many sobs. This was the bed I’d made and if I didn’t take control, I’d never be able to save my marriage.
Leaning away from me, Sonia said, “You know what you have to do, right?”
I nodded.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
That would’ve been perfect. But when Damon heard this news, when Damon reacted, when Damon blew up, I didn’t want Sonia in the crossfire. “No.”
“Are you sure? Do you think you can do it?”
“No.” I shook my head.“I don’t know how I can tell Damon, but I don’t have a choice. Because you’re right. Trey’s behind the blackmailing and that means this is all a game to him. At any time, he could go to Damon and tell him.” I inhaled. “It will be better coming from me.”
With a tissue, Sonia wiped my tears away, then leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I’m praying for you, Tiffanie. I just have a feeling it will work out fine.”
I nodded. “Give me just a minute to get myself together. And then I’ll go.”
“Okay. You’re gonna go to his office?”
I shook my head. “I’m gonna go home. Wait for him at home. Tell him at home.”
“That’s best. I know it’s scary.”
“It is.”
“I know he loves you.”
“He did.”
“He will continue to love you.”
“I pray.”
She pulled me up from the chair, hugged me, and when she turned away, I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. Maybe the ones I’d had transferred to her some way. Because I wasn’t going to cry. Not anymore. I was finally going to do what I hadn’t done since I’d met Trey. I was going to be honest with my husband.
My hands trembled as I reached for my purse. My hands trembled as I checked for my keys. My hands trembled and trembled all the way home.
39
Damon
I pressed the button for Bluetooth, dialed the number, and when he answered, I said, “What’s up, son?”
Trey said, “Just you.”
My hands squeezed the steering wheel. “Where you at? Ms. Irene’s?” The mention of his grandmother’s name made me pause, made me think, made me wonder.
“Nah, I’m just out and about. I rented a car to get around a little easier. So, I’m roaming the earth, looking to see what I can get into.”
If I wasn’t in this mental space, I might have chuckled, might have backed up and told Trey to change up his words since they were so similar to what the devil had said to God. But I didn’t say anything. Because what he’d said was the truth.
He added, “I wasn’t sure if I’d hear from you.”
The muscle in my jaw twitched, but I did my best to lie with not only my words but with my tone, too. “What’re you talking about? I told you I’d give you a call today.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I said we’d get together and talk about how we would partner up. You remember, as brothers.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
“So, why’re you surprised?”
In the silence that followed, I wondered what he knew, or what he even suspected. Did he realize that I’d seen him chasing my wife at the club? Had he seen the look in my eyes when he faced me? Did he know that I knew?
But he didn’t answer my question. All he said was, “So what time do you wanna do this?”
I squeezed the steering wheel, then relaxed my hands. “What you got going on now? I was thinking we could meet down at one of my warehouses. The one right next to DC After Dark.”
“That’s cool. I wanted to check out that neighborhood some more. Didn’t Tiff . . . I mean, Tiffanie, didn’t your girl use to live down there?”
Tiffanie wasn’t my girl, she was my wife. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was why this cat had disrespected me in this way. Maybe he didn’t realize that this was far m
ore than disrespect alone. Maybe he didn’t realize that he’d played with my heart. “Yeah, my wife used to live down there before we got married.” Then I remembered that Tiffanie was the one who had found the warehouses for me. How apropos for what was about to go down. “She tell you that?” I asked. “She tell you that she used to live down there?” Before he answered, I was filling in the answers for myself. Maybe they’d met down there, near her old apartment. Maybe that’s where they’d hung out, had dinner, made love.
Even though I was driving down Connecticut Avenue, I closed my eyes for a moment, not even caring if I crashed this car. It was a sad realization for me that I was hurt like this. Hurt by my girl, hurt by my boy.
But then he said, “Nah, it wasn’t Tiffanie who told me that; I can’t remember how I knew, but it definitely wasn’t your girl.”
There it was again—your girl. More disrespect, and I made the move back to mad from sad.
I asked, “So can you hook up now?”
“Yeah, bruh. I’m not far from there.”
Even though I was alone, I nodded. That move was for me. That nod was my signal that I was ready. “Okay, son. See you in ten.”
“Bet.”
I clicked off the Bluetooth, waited a second, then picked up the throwaway phone on the passenger’s seat.
I made the call, and when Magic answered, said, “It’s on.”
All he said was, “Bet,” and then the phone went dead.
* * *
I’D BEEN HERE before, so I knew how to park legally (no tickets) blocks away from the warehouse, I knew what to wear (clothing that wouldn’t bring any attention to me, along with rubber-soled shoes), I knew how to act (walking, not too fast, not too slow, no movements that made me stand out or that anyone would remember).
Navigating through the streets, I blended in with the end-of-lunch crowd, making sure to walk the route that Magic had laid out, a route that avoided the stores with outdoor cameras. About two blocks away, I dropped the now-crushed throwaway phone down a street drain, then continued to P Street. Right outside the back door to the warehouse, my glance was quick—to the left and to the right—before I slipped behind one of the two heavy doors.
Lust Page 27
