Coincidence?
She could barely catch a breath as she asked, “What . . . what are we doing here?”
Zeke gritted his teeth and looked over at his wife out of the corner of his eye. As Robin Thicke crooned, he’d glanced her way every once in a while during the drive, and as they’d gotten close, he’d seen her body become more and more tense. He tightened his hands around the steering wheel. He could practically smell her fear. It was as thick and strong as the floral perfume she had on.
He said, “The restaurant we’re going to is a half a block down.”
“What . . . what kind of food?”
“Japanese.”
Sapphire’s stomach turned. She looked past Zeke to Tre’s building. “Why . . . are you parking here?”
“We’re already close to missing our reservation. I didn’t want to waste more time driving around trying to find a good parking spot.” He looked at her intently. “Is something wrong?”
“Why don’t . . .” She paused, cleared her throat, and started again. “Why don’t you just use the valet parking?”
“Valet? Have you been here before?”
“N—no!” Sapphire stammered.
“How did you know they have valet?”
Sapphire cleared her throat again. “I . . . I just assumed I mean, most places have valet.” She looked away from Zeke to Tre’s building.
Zeke gritted his teeth. The smile was trying to force its way into existence again. He thought about the photos.
Sapphire riding.
Biting on her bottom lip.
Her headless lover.
Inside of her.
Making her moan.
Making her cum.
Zeke bore down again. Would break his teeth if he didn’t ease up.
He said, “What’s wrong?”
Sapphire put her focus back on him. “Nothing.”
Zeke watched her as she wiped her palm of her hand, fiddled with the strap of her Coach bag, and then smoothed a crease on her dress. “Are you sure? You seem distracted.”
Sapphire shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“OK.”
Sapphire exhaled. “It . . . it’s just . . .” She paused, and looked back toward Tre’s apartment.
Zeke watched her. The scent of her fear was stronger. “Yes?”
Sapphire exhaled again. “It’s . . . well . . . Why don’t you just do the valet?”
“Why? We have a good spot here. The restaurant’s only a half a block away.”
Sapphire wiped her forehead again. “This area . . .” She paused.
“Yeah?”
“It . . . it just doesn’t seem safe to me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with this area, Sapph. People with money live here.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“This area is fine.” Zeke cut the engine. “Come on. Let’s get to the restaurant.” He opened his car door and put one foot outside.
“Honestly, Zeke . . . I’m not really in the mood for Japanese.”
Zeke turned and looked at her. “I heard the food is delicious.”
“But—”
“Come on, Sapphire. Let’s go and have some good food and enjoy each other’s company.”
Zeke watched her closely. She wanted to say no. She wanted to insist again that she wasn’t in the mood for Japanese cuisine. But she couldn’t say no and he knew it. Disgust formed a smile on his face. Watching her, being near her, loving and hating her at the same time—his stomach was in knots. The last thing he wanted was food, but he had to go through with the charade.
The role had to be played.
He had to hold on for a few more days. He had to be patient and endure the hurt. A few more days.
He leaned toward his wife, put a hand behind her neck, and pulled her toward him. His lips inches away from hers, smelling her perfume, her breath, he said, “I love you.” He pressed his lips against hers softly and then pulled back. “Let’s go and have a good time,” he said.
He turned away and stepped out of the car.
Seconds later, Sapphire stepped out too.
Zeke took a breath of the evening air. Play the role, he thought. Play the role.
Chapter 17
“So, what do you think?” Zeke stared at Sapphire. She was running her index finger slowly around the rim of her wine glass. “Sapphire?”
Sapphire looked up. She’d heard his question, but hadn’t responded. She was trying her best to let go of the anxiety she was feeling. From the moment they’d walked into the restaurant, she couldn’t ignore the ill feeling in her gut. She said, “Yes?”
“I asked what you thought of the place.”
Sapphire picked up her glass and took a sip of her red wine. “I’m sorry, honey. The restaurant is very nice.”
Zeke looked at her. The look in his eyes, Sapphire thought. Something about them made her uncomfortable.
“What? Why are you looking at me that way?”
Zeke shrugged. “You’ve hardly said a word since we got here. It just seems like something’s bothering you.”
Sapphire took another sip of her wine. “I . . . I’m fine. I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet. It may not seem like it, but I’m enjoying being here with you.”
“Are you sure? I know this place isn’t exactly what you’re used to.”
“I’m fine, really, Zeke.” She reached across the table and put her hand in his. They’d been at the restaurant for twenty minutes. They’d ordered their food, gotten their drinks. So far everything had been OK. Perhaps everything would stay that way. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that something was wrong, perhaps she’d caused that herself. She forced a smile on her face. She was out with her husband. This time together was something she’d been wanting. “I like the restaurant, Zeke. I was just thinking about some things.”
“What things?”
“Nothing important.”
“You sure?”
Sapphire nodded. “Yes, baby.”
She smiled.
Zeke smiled back.
Silence took over.
Sapphire looked at her husband as he stared back at her with eyes devoid of the fire and intensity to which she’d been accustomed. The affection he was giving her seemed forced, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was sleeping around also. If that were the case, who’d begun the betrayal?
Had it been he, who, along with the hours spent away from home, had ultimately pushed her into the arms of a man willing to physically satisfy her, so that mentally she was able to continue a marriage in which she felt lonely?
Or had she been the one to cheat simply as a means of acquiring companionship that she hadn’t gotten from her husband in a long time?
If that were so, could she really call what she’d been doing infidelity?
She said, “It’s been a while since we’ve had time together like this.”
Zeke nodded. “Yes, it has.”
“I miss . . .” Sapphire paused mid-sentence as she caught sight of someone walking into the restaurant.
Tre.
With another woman.
Sapphire closed her mouth as her heart beat off rhythm. She tried not to stare as Tre and his date were escorted to a table off to the far corner of the room.
Her heart pounded.
Her palms became cold and sweaty as chills came over her.
Everything around her slowed down and disappeared one by one, until she was alone with Tre, his date, and her husband, who was calling her name.
Chapter 18
Zeke had seen the shock.
He’d heard her draw a breath.
He’d seen her body practically convulse.
He watched her staring, yet trying not to at the same time, as her world spun off of its axis.
He was there.
The headless man.
Zeke had had no idea if he frequented the restaurant, but he’d hoped that he did. At the very least, even if he didn’t, Sapp
hire would be rattled just by being close to him with her husband.
His back facing the door, Zeke looked at his wife intensely, and seethed. He could have sat to Sapphire’s right, or even directly beside her so that he too would have been able to see him, if by some slim chance he did come in. But he’d decided to sit facing his wife because he didn’t want to see him. He was faceless in the photographs and faceless in his mind. Zeke wanted him to remain that way.
The images, the nightmares—they were bad enough without the face.
Zeke took a breath. Held it. Let the air sift and burn inside of his lungs.
He was there.
He exhaled and called his wife’s name again. “Sapphire?”
Seconds passed before his wife looked at him. “Y . . . yes?”
Her eyes were wide. Her mouth hung open. She pulled her hand away, grabbed her glass, and swallowed the rest of her wine.
She’d tried to hide it, but Zeke had noticed the shake in her hand. “Are you OK?”
There was hesitation before Sapphire said, “Y—yes. I . . .” She paused, looked past Zeke momentarily, then focused back on him. “I . . . I want to go.”
“Go? But our food hasn’t come yet.”
Sapphire shook her head. “I’m . . . I’m not feeling well.”
“What’s wrong?”
Another glance past him. This time her gaze remained focused there. “My . . . stomach’s upset.”
“All of a sudden?”
She looked back at him. “No. It . . . it was bothering me before, but I didn’t want to say anything, but it’s worse now.”
“Is it gas? I’ll grab the waiter and order a cup of tea. Maybe that will help.”
Sapphire shook her head. “It’s not gas.”
“But—”
“Can we please go?” Sapphire said, her tone laced with anxiety.
Zeke stared at her for several seconds and then let out a sigh. “OK. Let me just get the waiter to box our food.”
“I really don’t want the food.”
“But you may want to eat later.”
Sapphire shook her head. “I won’t.”
“But—”
“I’m going to wait for you outside,” she said, pushing her chair away from the table and standing up.
Before Zeke could say anything else, she started off toward the exit. Zeke turned and watched her walk. Head down. Purse clutched tightly in her hand.
He watched and waited.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
At four, she slowed and looked ever so slightly to the right.
Zeke didn’t follow her line of sight.
The headless man had to remain headless.
He waited until Sapphire quickened her pace a second later and hurried through the doors before removing three hundred dollar bills from his wallet and leaving them beneath his glass. Hours before, he’d come to the restaurant and worked up a deal with the waiter.
Two hundred dollars for the best seat in the house.
The extra hundred was the tip.
Zeke stood up.
He thought about looking to the right to see him.
Thought about it.
Felt the muscles in his neck tense up.
He stood still.
Clenched his jaws.
Felt rage building inside of him. His neck muscles were taut. He took a breath. The headless man. He had to stay fucking headless. Zeke exhaled, letting out the air and rage slowly, and walked away from the table to leave the restaurant. Sapphire was already at the car waiting for him.
Tuesday—Three Days
Chapter 19
Sky—clear blue. Clouds—angelic white. The sun—bright yellow, spewing its rays in every direction, warming the air. Birds hovered, soared, glided, spoke amongst themselves chirping, squawking, singing sweet songs of desire, and carrying on conversations no one but they could understand. Planes flew high above them. People inside, seat-belts around their waists, listening to music coming from their iPods, while their neighbors read paperbacks or snored, or talked them to death.
They were all oblivious to the peace and tranquility beneath them. They had no clue about the amazement and beauty. They didn’t understand the freedom.
But Tre did.
He understood, appreciated, and adored it because he was soaring in it. In the sky, amongst the clouds, within the intimate patterns the birds created.
He soared.
Did dips and dives, spiraled upward, and nose-dived.
With the wind in his face and blowing through his hair.
He soared.
His arms spread wide, through the cotton white, through the rays of sunlight, speaking with the birds.
On his back, floating, he looked upward at the airplanes above and felt sorry for the passengers confined in their aisle, middle, and window seats. They didn’t know the peace he knew. They didn’t know the calm.
The Zen.
Tre was meditating. Legs crisscrossed. Right ankle on left knee. Left ankle on right knee. Elbows down at his sides. Arms bent. Palms facing upward. Back straight. Eyes closed.
The lotus position.
Mastered during his days in Japan, Tre found his center, his calm, his Zen every morning before he began his day. One hour in the sky. An escape from the world below. He treasured this time. It was better than sleeping, because when he found his Zen, his mind was at complete rest. No dreams, no random nightmares. His mind was blank and he was simply in the floating, existing, being.
One hour.
He needed no stopwatch or alarm clock to let him know that his time was up because he was one with time; mind, body, and soul.
One hour.
To avoid interruption, he turned off the ringer on the house phone and kept his cell phone off. The rest of the outside noise from beyond his windows would disappear as he drew closer to his Zen.
Unfortunately, the incessant knocking coming from his door was a sound that, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, would not go away. Tre said good-bye to the birds, glided down to the ground, and opened his eyes. The knocking had become a bang, accompanied with the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. He sighed, unfolded his legs, stood up, and went to open the door.
“Were you in on it?”
He hadn’t even a chance to speak. He looked at Sapphire as though she’d lost her mind. “What?”
Sapphire stormed uninvited past him.
Tre sighed again, shook his head, closed the door, and turned around.
“Were you in on it?” Sapphire asked again. “Did you plot that together?”
Tre squinted his eyes and folded his arms across his sculpted, bare chest. “Sapphire . . . what the hell are you talking about?”
Sapphire ran her hand through her hair. “I’m talking about last night at the restaurant.”
“The restaurant?”
“Yes!”
“You were there?”
Sapphire slit her eyes. “Like you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t,” Tre said matter-of-factly.
“You didn’t see me?”
Tre shook his head. “No.”
Sapphire formed a tight line with her lips and gave him an accusatory stare. “You didn’t see me at all, huh?”
“No. I didn’t.”
Sapphire curled her lips. “Well, I saw you and your bitch.”
Tre clenched his jaw. He’d seen this coming. Little by little the signs had become more obvious. The possessiveness. The showing up at his door unannounced. The casual, non-business–related phone calls. The desire to see him more and more. The “friendly endearment” toward his other client.
Years ago, a client taught him all about the signs.
Lori Clark.
Mid-fifties, attractive, tanned, with a body like Maria Sharapova’s. Lisa Clark. Her husband had been a stock market master who’d had a heart attack and died on the floor of the Stock Exchange. He’d left millions.
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Lori began calling for Tre’s services after learning from a friend of a friend of a friend that Tre had outstanding plumbing capabilities. Initially, she only called on Tre once, sometimes twice a month, to scratch her itch when needed. For the first three months of their arrangement, everything was fine. She paid Zeke handsomely, while Zeke gave her a great, no-holds-barred sexual experience each and every appointment.
But after three months, things began to change. Lisa started buying him gifts just because. She would call him during the week just to talk and to hear his voice. When she couldn’t reach him by phone, she would just show up on his doorstep without warning. Tre had been naïve then. The gifts, the calls, the visits—he wrongfully assumed they were byproducts of the work he’d been doing in the bedroom. Each call, each gift, each visit had been a stroke to his ego. His dick was magic and he’d put Lisa under one hell of a spell.
That was how he’d felt until Lisa began going off on him in jealous tirades when he’d be unable to see her because of his obligations to other clients. That had been how he’d felt until Lisa began following him, often times disrupting his appointments. Tre began losing clients because of the drama Lisa caused, and would have lost them all, but luckily for him, she died in a head-on collision with a tractor-trailer. It had been a cold December mid-afternoon. The newspapers said she’d hydroplaned right into the truck and died instantly.
Tre shed no tears over her death. He’d been on the road on his way to see a client, and minutes before her accident, he’d seen her two car lengths behind him in his rear view mirror. He’d passed the semi when he increased his speed to lose her.
Tre was no longer naïve.
He ignored the bitch comment and asked, “Were you following me?”
Sapphire shook her head. “No.”
“But you were at the restaurant.”
“Because my husband took me there.”
“I see.”
“And he parked in front of your building.”
“My building?”
“Yes.” Sapphire ran her hands through her hair again, paced back and forth, and then sat down on his sofa. “Please tell me, Tre. Were you in on it?” Her face was a mask of fear and anxiety.
Tre shook his head. “No, Sapphire. I wasn’t.”
“Oh God,” Sapphire whispered. “Then he has to know about us.”
Betrayal Page 9
