Aida knew Griffin was a dog. A man who had absolutely no respect for women. He was narcissistic to the 9th degree. Had Jesus not done it already, he would have claimed walking on water as his feat alone. He was a self-satisfying, selfish, insensitive bastard. He was the kind of man Lisette and Aida enjoyed taking down. Yet as much as she knew she shouldn’t have been, Aida was finding herself getting hooked. So much so that she began to wonder is she was going to be able to let Griffin become nonexistent after the job was completed.
Lisette would be thoroughly disappointed.
The freak in her was beginning to cloud her judgment, and she knew that she had to get a grip. This was a job and when the job was over, she had to move on.
Aida told herself that as she’d washed her car, as she shopped for the new string bikini, and as she stopped in Victoria’s Secret and bought a matching red lace bra and panties. Do the job, get that money and keep it moving.
She could handle it.
Lisette had chosen her because she’d expected her to.
She could handle it.
She would handle it.
Aida told herself that as she stepped into Starbucks. She was there because earlier in the day, Marlene had called her and told her that Vivian Steele requested a meeting.
“Meeting? For what?”
“She wants an update.”
“And this can’t be given over the phone?”
“I told her that you said things were going well, but she wants to hear it from you in person.”
Aida rolled her eyes. She’d planned to lie out in the sun later that day, enjoying the heat and humidity before she met Griffin. “Fine. Whatever she wants. What time?”
“At two-thirty at Starbucks.”
“Again?” Aida sighed. “OK.”
Aida looked down at her watch. She was thirty minutes late. She looked around and spotted Vivian Steele sitting at a table near the back. She rolled her eyes. Vivian annoyed the shit out of her. She had no backbone and therefore allowed her husband to walk all over her. What’s worse, she was completely dependant on him. Griffin may have deserved what was coming to him, but as far as Aida was concerned, Vivian Steele deserved to be disrespected. Aida could never understand women like Vivian. Women like her mother and sister.
“Hello, Vivian,” Aida said, approaching her at the table. “Sorry for being late.”
Vivian looked up at her and for a split second, Aida thought she saw a flash of anger in her eyes. But then Vivian smiled. “That’s OK. I know I kind of sprung this on you.”
Aida sat down. “Yeah. I did have some things I was taking care of today.”
Vivian frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I promise not to take up too much of your time.”
“So, my associate says you’re looking for an update?”
Vivian nodded. “I was just wondering how things were going.”
“Things are good.”
“Did you approach him at the gym?”
“I did.”
“And was he . . . receptive to you?”
“He was.”
Vivian frowned.
Aida said, “Didn’t you expect him to be?”
“Y . . . yes.”
“So why the disappointment?”
Vivian sighed. “I don’t know. I guess there was a part of me that just held out hope that my husband wouldn’t respond, even though I knew he would.”
“Your husband’s a womanizer, Vivian.”
“I know.”
“He’s not going to change.”
Vivian’s frown deepened. “I just had to try something.”
“OK. So you try this, you get him to go to counseling and nothing changes. Then what?”
Vivian shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice defeated. “I haven’t really thought about that.”
“Don’t you think you should?”
Vivian wrapped her fingers around her cup of coffee as her shoulders dropped.
Aida shook her head. So pathetic, she thought. “Anyway, is everything set for next Saturday?”
“Yes. I’ve told him I’m going to visit my sister for the weekend. She lives in Virginia with her husband and three kids. He says he has work so he won’t be able to come. He never got along with my sister so his excuse doesn’t surprise me.”
“OK. As you’ve requested, you’ll walk in and find us on your bed. I’ll make sure we’re both naked.”
“But not doing anything.”
“Right. Not doing anything.”
“OK.”
“We’ll meet here the next day to settle our agreement.”
“OK.”
Aida pushed her chair back. She was annoyed. The “update” could have been done over the phone. “Well . . . until next Saturday.”
She stood up and was about to leave when Vivian spoke again.
“Aida, I have one question before you go.”
Aida looked down at her. “Yes?”
“You . . . you haven’t slept with him, have you?”
Aida thought about being in the back seat of Griffin’s Escalade, and then being with him later that same day in a hotel room in the city, where they’d fucked just as intensely as they had in the gym’s parking lot. Griffin was well endowed and knew how to use his tool. Over the phone he’d promised to reenact the scenes from his dreams. Aida felt herself growing wet as she shook her head and said, “No.”
“Are you sure? I mean, my husband’s an attractive man. I wouldn’t be surprised if–”
“We haven’t,” Aida said curtly.
Vivian gave a half-hearted smile. “OK. Thank you.”
Aida walked away before Vivian could ask anymore pathetic questions. I should have said yes, she thought. Yes, we fucked, and we’re going to fuck again.
Next Saturday the job would be done.
Aida thought about Griffin and couldn’t help but wonder if she would be.
30
Since my unwanted reunion with my dear old mother, I’d made changes. I’d had to. Someone knew about Kyra, and he or she had my home address. Going back to my old condo ceased being an option the minute I left the gym’s parking lot.
I’d had my home invaded one time. By Kyra. She’d broken in and ripped up my furniture, clothing, and shoes. She destroyed my electronics equipment and shattered my CDs. Then she called me to gloat. She wanted to get a rise out of me. Wanted to have me flustered. Wanted me to be scared.
But she was stupid.
Had she been smart, she would have never contacted me. The move I made this time, I would have had to have made back then too. It would have been unavoidable. But Kyra had been in over her head. She didn’t know who she was fucking with.
The person who had sent my mother my information was no fool.
He or she had made the move and remained silent. Remained hidden in the goddamn shadows. I didn’t want, to but I had no choice but to move. I also ended my membership at the gym.
After hanging up with Marlene, I went to Myles’s luxury penthouse in Harlem. I hadn’t spoken to him, but I’d kept tabs on him. He hadn’t moved after Kyra disappeared, and he’d kept his routine pretty much the same. The spouse was always suspect number one, so I’m sure his movement or lack thereof had been an effort to keep the police from breathing too hard on the back of his neck.
I could have called and asked him if he’d given my personal information to anyone, but I needed to see him answer the question. There are people in the world who are paid by the government to be human lie detectors. They can tell by a person’s change in speech, breathing pattern, and posture whether he has been lying. They can tell by the eyes, the muscles in their jaws, the sweat that trickled down their brows. It takes years of intense and thorough training to become that astute. The money spent, the time invested to acquire that skill, would be a complete waste of time when dealing with Myles. If the fate of the world relied on him being able to tell the whitest of lies, then we’d better pray for another big bang som
ewhere down the line.
I wanted to look Myles in the eye and have him tell me that he didn’t know what I was talking about. That, other than Kyra herself, he’d never brought my name up to anyone.
I waited for three hours in the lobby of his building, having the doorman call him every twenty minutes. I even had him go up to Myles’s floor a few times to knock on the door. Unfortunately, there was never a response. I hated waiting that long, but someone knew where I lived and they knew about Kyra, and I had to make sure that Myles wasn’t that someone.
After three hours of wasted time, I left and went to his second home: Starbucks. He had a gambling problem and every day, rain or shine, Starbucks was where he went to sit with his laptop and place his bets. I’d thrown his laptop into the middle of the street, not to cure him of his problem, but rather because he’d annoyed me. Myles allowed Kyra to wear the pants in their household. I didn’t care one way or the other who ran things in his home, but because I hated the bitch, his deference to her pissed me off. I waited at the café for an hour, but Myles never showed.
Frustrated, I left and got a penthouse suite at the On The Ave Hotel across from Central Park. I called Marlene as I stood on the balcony and looked down at the park.
“What did you find out from Lisa?”
I was doing my best to remain calm, remain collected, but it was a challenge. There was a certain level of control that I’d lost with someone knowing the things he or she knew, and that had me uneasy. I never liked not having absolute control. Kyra had taken it away from me once and I swore that wouldn’t happen again. Now there I was on the balcony at a hotel instead of being at home on my couch, listening to Pink Martini.
Marlene sighed through the phone. “I’ve called her over and over, and left numerous messages, but I can’t get her, and she hasn’t returned my calls.”
I slammed my hand down on the balcony’s rail.
“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, Lisette, but it’s the only thing I can say.”
“Did you try her house number?”
“Yes, of course. And I got the same result. I tried mutual friends, too, but none of them know where she is either.”
I ground my teeth together as car horns cursed for me from the busy streets fourteen floors below. “What about our other clients? Have you called them?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“None of them had ever heard of Kyra.”
My turn to curse this time. “Shit.”
“Did you get anything from Myles?”
“Not yet.”
“Where are you, Lisette?”
I looked out past Central Park, across Madison Avenue. New York City didn’t have bright stars in the sky to admire the way states in the South and Midwest did, but what it did have were lights and sounds. From cars, from buildings, from people. There was a soul to New York City. A soul different from any other city in the world. On The Ave boasted about the panoramic view in their brochure and on their Web site. It was a major selling point. Had the night been different, I would have stood naked on the balcony and enjoyed the sights and sounds of a city unmatched. Of course, had the night been different, I would have never been here.
I clenched my jaw. I said, “I’m at a hotel in the city.”
“Are you sure you’re safe there? You can come here if you want.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“What are you going to do?”
I took a breath and exhaled slowly, trying to find my calm.
What was I going to do?
Someone connected to Kyra was out there. What was he planning? Was she bluffing? Just playing some kind of twisted joke? Did he or she really know something?
Was this about money?
Did he really know something, and if that was the case, was this his way of getting me to keep what he knew a secret? However much that may have been.
What if it wasn’t about money?
This person claim, to know about my involvement with Kyra. Was this about revenge? Was that what he or she was gunning for?
Revenge like Steve.
My mind went back to the gym when it had been raining. Revenge had been the fuel for Steve’s fire then. I’d humiliated and screwed the hell out of him. There were plenty of other Steve’s out there. Plenty of others who’d had the scales unbalanced in their ex’s favor.
I was a home wrecker.
It was a lucrative occupation.
The potential for danger was always there, but the way I operated and conducted my business kept the danger level low. Steve had been the only problem and that had been because of Kyra.
She was an anomaly.
And she was gone now.
Marlene wanted to know what I was going to do.
I wanted to give another answer, but at the moment I had no other answer to give. I said, “I don’t know yet.”
“Jesus, Lisette,” Marlene whispered, her voice thick with worry.
“Keep trying Lisa,” I said.
“I will.”
In the background, Benjamin made a noise, a soft whimper. Marlene shushed him softly.
“Marlene . . . has anything suspicious happened on your end?” I hadn’t thought about it until that very moment. Someone was quite possibly gunning for me. If that were the case, to what means would this person go?
A second or two of silence passed before Marlene answered. “No. Lisette . . . do you think Benjamin and I could be in danger?”
I frowned and, as reassuringly as I could, said, “No. Whoever this person is, they’ve made their move. This person is out for me alone.”
“Are you sure? I . . . I have Benji. I If I need to leave–”
“You and Benjamin will be fine.”
“What about Aida? Should we warn her about what’s going on?”
“No. This all happened before her. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“OK,” Marlene said, doubt in her voice.
I needed to get off of the phone. I needed to sit and breathe. Talking to Marlene was stressing me out. I said, “Call me as soon as you hear from Lisa. She’s the key to this.”
“Lisette, I know this is something you’ve never done, but do you want me to contact Shante Scott and cancel the arrangement? I mean, with all that’s going on, I don’t see how you can really focus on getting this done right now.”
“I’m not canceling anything,” I said with an edge. Her question irritated me. It reminded me again of the control that I could feel slipping away.
Marlene wouldn’t give up. “But, Lisette, I just–”
“I said no, Marlene. Whoever this person is, I’ll find them and deal with them. In the meantime, I have a job to do, and it will be done.”
Marlene sighed. She wanted to protest again. I could hear it in the way she breathed. But she knew better. Conceding, she said, “OK. Just . . . just be careful, Lisette. Oh, and Rebecca Stantin called again. She’s asked to meet with you again. What did she want?”
I frowned and shook my head. “To waste my time,” I said and then ended the call.
The next day I rented a new condo on the Upper West Side of the city. I paid a moving company extra to pack up my things and deliver them that same day.
Two days had now passed, and Marlene still hadn’t found Lisa, while I still hadn’t found Myles. I was frustrated and, as much as I hated to admit it, I was on edge.
I looked at myself in my bedroom mirror. I was naked, letting the air dry off the beads of water from the hot shower I’d just taken. Pink Martini played softly from my iPod in the living room. My song on repeat.
BlackBerry in my hand, I dialed Ryan Scott’s cell number. My secret admirer would have to take a back seat. I had a job to complete.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ryan.”
“Lisette? Wow. It’s been a couple of days.”
“I’ve beenbusy.”
“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten about me.”
; “Haven’t forgotten,” I said. “Just a lot going on.”
“Care to tell me about it over dinner?”
My mother’s unwanted appearance. A secret admirer who brought Kyra back to life. Lisa and Myles–both still missing.
I said, “I don’t want to do any talking tonight.”
Ryan said, “OK.”
“On The Ave Hotel by Central Park. Get a room. A penthouse suite. I’ll meet you there.”
I hung up the phone and looked at my body. Tension had my muscles tight. Frustration and irritation had my blood on fire.
I hadn’t been able to enjoy the view last time. Tonight I wanted to release on the balcony with the sounds of New York as the backdrop.
31
On the balcony of the On The Ave Hotel.
Naked.
Sitting on top of Ryan.
My hands were pressed down on his chest, the tips of my fingers touching tiny bits of scab from when I’d dug in with my nails and had drawn blood. Ryan’s hands were clamped around my ass, his fingers squeezing my cheeks, as he drove himself into me. Hard, deep thrusts.
I bit down on my bottom lip. Took short, quick breaths. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead, trailed down from my neck, past my breasts to my stomach.
Ryan looked up at me and smiled. I could tell by the overconfident glint in his eyes that he thought I was sweating, biting my lip, and inhaling and exhaling quickly because of the sex. Because of how he was thrusting back and forth. Because of how he rotated his waist to the right and then to the left.
The sex.
The other times he’d been inside of me that had been the case. I’d sweated because of the physical workout. I’d bitten down on my lip because of how deep he’d gone. I’d taken quick breaths because of his back and forth motion.
The other times.
But not this time.
On my mind, refusing to leave me alone, were questions. Who’d sent my mother the clippings? How had they known how to contact her? Who knew about Kyra? What did they want? Why hadn’t they reached out yet? Were they even planning to? If so–when? More importantly–how?
Eye for an Eye Page 14
