Seduction

by Geneva Holliday

  “You told me you were in debt for a hundred thousand dollars. I pass on paperwork allowing a hundred thousand dollars to disappear from clients' accounts, and when I say, ‘Fine, we're done, you're safe,’ you tell me different. You tell me it's actually two hundred thousand?”

  Tony's mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.

  “Maybe that's a lie too!” Mildred shrieked.

  Mildred never yelled, and the sound of her own voice reaching such a shrill crescendo made her jump.

  “Baby,” Tony started, catching Mildred by her fore-arms and pulling her stomach into his face, “I'm sorry I lied to you, but I was so ashamed, so very ashamed,” he mumbled into the fabric of her dress.

  Mildred melted. She sighed and placed her hands on his head, stroking the fine short hairs there.

  “You don't ever have to lie to me, Tony. Never.” She sighed.

  When Tony looked up at her his eyes were brimming with tears.

  That got her every time.

  “Oh, baby,” she said, and her own eyes began to tear. “It's going to be okay.” She dropped down to her knees and embraced him.

  “So what's going to happen when we get to the two-hundred-thousand-dollar mark?” Zebby asked.

  Tony hadn't thought that far ahead. “I don't know, man, I don't know,” he said into his cell phone as he navigated his way down Wall Street toward work.

  And he didn't know.

  What he did know was that the entire situation was wearing on him. The job, the scam, Mildred.

  But every time he'd decided he'd had enough and was going to call Zebby and tell him just that, Zebby would always inform him that another deposit had hit.

  It had been a month and Tony hadn't seen a dime and so was beginning to think that Zebby was playing him for a fool, the same way he was playing Mildred.

  “Yo, Zebby, funds are little low, if you know what I mean?”

  Tony didn't want to come right out and ask for his share—it seemed punkish—but shit, he was the one who was putting his ass on the line every single day he walked into Greene Investments.

  He was under a lot of stress and had noticed he wasn't just losing sleep but was losing weight.

  “I got your stuff right here. That was my reason for calling, but you started on Mildred before I could even tell you.”

  Now he really did feel like a punk.

  “I'll be there tonight,” he said just as he pushed through the wide glass doors of the building and found Mildred standing there, waiting for him as usual.

  Tony flipped the phone closed, smiled at Mildred, and started to make small talk as fellow employees milled around waiting for the elevator.

  He pretended to listen as Mildred droned on and on about some damn television show she'd watched last night.

  His mind was on what Zebby had said about the money.

  He'd arranged it so that they would get paid in gold bullion. He didn't know why they couldn't have cash, but Zebby said the man he'd got to wash the money for him had said this was better, not as easily traced as cash.

  Tony had never in his life seen gold bullion, much less held one. The thought of it made his dick go stiff.

  Mildred saw the bulge in his pants and blushed. Who had known she'd one day have that kind of effect on a man!

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-three

  Mildred was beaming.

  She couldn't stop staring at the ring. Even though it was one of the smallest diamonds she'd ever seen, and the band was thin and cheap-looking, it was an engagement ring.

  She held her hand out in front of her face and wiggled her fingers. She was a fiancée!

  “Oh, Tony,” she gushed, “I can't believe it. I just can't believe it!” She squealed and threw her arms around him, crushing him in a bear hug.

  She was ecstatic, even though she'd wished he'd taken her someplace romantic, someplace where people could see her being proposed to. She wanted the entire fairy tale, but she supposed the living room of her apartment would have to do.

  “So, shall we plan a date?” she said, still staring lovingly down at the diamond chip.

  Tony groaned inwardly. It was never enough, was it?

  “Sure, babe—you just tell me where and when and I'll be there.”

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-four

  Get out!” Seneca roared, shoving Mildred halfway across the room.

  “Ouch,” Mildred screeched as she fell down onto the sofa.

  Seneca's eyes were as wide as saucers and her mouth hung open so that Mildred could see her pink tongue.

  “Let me see it again,” Seneca said, starting toward Mildred.

  Mildred stretched her hand out for Seneca to see.

  “Humph. He could have spent a little more, don't you think?” Seneca remarked sarcastically.

  Mildred pulled her hand away.

  “Fuck you, you hater,” Mildred spat.

  Seneca drew back in shock. She couldn't remember ever hearing Mildred curse. “You're certainly picking up some nasty habits, Mildred Johnson.”

  “Sorry,” Mildred said, and then huffed, “but you deserved that. You never seem to be happy for me. Here I've found this wonderful man and he loves me for me and wants to marry me, and all you can say is that he could have spent a little more money? Love is not about money, Seneca. It's about what you have in here,” Mildred said, slapping her chest.

  Seneca smirked. “Yeah, okay. Congratulations,” she said halfheartedly.

  “Well, you know, if you can't be happy for me, I don't think we can continue to be friends,” Mildred said.

  For the second time that evening Seneca drew back in shock.

  Yeah, she was gagging on the inside. Envious. She couldn't understand how it was that overweight, ugly-ducking Mildred had snagged a man as fine as Tony.

  “I said congratulations,” Seneca snapped, snatching her handbag from the coffee table. “I don't know what you want from me. Maybe you want me to kiss your ass, huh?”

  Mildred said nothing.

  “Well, I'm not going to do it. And if me not kissing your ass means we can't be friends anymore, then so be it,” Seneca said as she turned and marched toward the front door. “Have a nice fucking life,” she threw over her shoulder as she stormed out into the hallway and down the stairs.

  Mildred didn't feel a drop of regret. She calmly walked over to the door and secured the lock. She didn't need Seneca or anyone else for that matter. All she needed was Tony.

  A Series of Fortunate Events . . .

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-five

  She knew she was going against everything he'd asked her not to do, but it was her wedding day and she wanted it to be special.

  Mildred had wanted a big to-do. A church wedding and reception at the Grand Prospect Hall.

  She'd gone for a showing and even a food tasting, claiming that Tony, her husband-to-be, was an investment banker who traveled a lot, which is why she was there alone.

  But Tony said a large wedding would call attention to them and they were almost home free with an extra hundred grand to start a new life with.

  So a civil service wedding, Tony said, would be the best thing.

  Quick and quiet.

  And then off on their two-week honeymoon to Bora Bora.

  “You're getting what?” Geneva choked out after having taken a sip of her Diet Pepsi.

  They were eating lunch at McDonald's.

  “Married!” Mildred squealed, thrusting the ring in Geneva's face.

  Geneva squinted at the tiny diamond.

  “To that man? That Tony guy?”

  Mildred rapidly bobbed her head up and down as she bit down into a Big Mac.

  Geneva didn't know what to say. She was mute with shock. But after some time, she finally said, “Well, congratulations. When's the big day?”

  “Tomorrow at noon.”

  Geneva blinked. “Tomorrow? So soon. And where?”

  “City Hall.”

  Geneva had a
lways been suspicious of this relationship, but now the hairs were standing up on the back of her neck.

  She leaned forward, locked her eyes with Mildred's, and asked, “Is he a citizen?”

  Mildred's head jerked with surprise. “Of course he is!”

  “Then why all the rush? Why can't you two wait and have a proper ceremony?”

  Mildred's response was sharp: “Because we don't want to wait.”

  Geneva shrank back into her seat. What ever happened to the sweet, timid Mildred she once knew?

  “Makes sense,” Geneva squeaked as she reached for a french fry.

  “And I hope you'll be able to attend?”

  “Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-six

  That Friday was gray and muggy with a threatening sky.

  The plan was to get married at noon and then go out and have a wonderful lunch before Tony headed back to the office to finish up some work.

  Mildred, on the other hand, had the day off, and she would head back home and prepare the apartment for a wonderful romantic evening.

  They would fly out first thing Saturday morning to spend ten blissful days in Bora Bora. After that they would return to work for at least another three months before handing in their resignations and disappearing completely.

  Mildred had made up beautiful wedding invitations on the computer and handed one to Geneva as well as to her boss, Mr. Henderson.

  Mildred arrived in full wedding dress, via gypsy cab.

  When she waltzed into the main hall of the courthouse, heads turned and people snickered, but all Mildred heard were the harps inside her head.

  “Y-you look lovely,” Geneva heard herself lie. Mildred looked like a float from the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

  “Who did your makeup?”

  Geneva had to ask because Mildred had on the thickest press-on eyelashes she'd ever seen. And to add insult to injury, she'd applied a heavy dose of rose-colored blush to her cheeks. She looked like a clown.

  Her lipstick was the best thing going—a soft, glittery pink.

  “I did,” Mildred announced proudly as she embraced Geneva.

  Clutching her six-foot-long train, she wobbled over to Mr. Henderson, who was so rigid with shock, he could barely raise his arms.

  “You look . . . um . . . glorious,” Mr. Henderson said.

  “Thank you!”

  Couple after happy couple walked into the matrimony room and walked out husband and wife. It was a quarter past twelve and Tony still hadn't arrived.

  “It shouldn't be much longer,” Mildred stalled. “I think he said he was driving in today.”

  Geneva and Mr. Henderson nodded.

  By twelve-thirty, Mildred had dialed Tony's cell phone three times, but each time it had gone straight to voice mail.

  Her spirits still high, she made more excuses.

  By quarter of one Mr. Henderson announced that he had an important meeting to attend at one o'clock and couldn't wait anymore.

  “Mildred, dear, I'm so sorry, but I have to go,” he said, checking his watch. “I wish I could be here to witness this wonderful occasion, but . . .”

  Mildred waved him off. “Oh, Mr. Henderson, don't be sorry. It means so much to me that you waited this long. But I'm sure he'll be here soon.”

  Mildred was still smiling.

  “I'm sure,” Mr. Henderson said as he handed her an envelope and then patted her hand.

  He shot Geneva an unsure look before he walked away.

  Geneva looked at her watch. It was one o'clock and Mildred was beginning to look worried. Geneva herself had had a sinking feeling as soon as she walked into the building. Now it was more than obvious to her that Tony was standing Mildred up.

  Mildred jabbed the redial button on her phone, listened as it went to voice mail, pressed End Call, and then jabbed the redial button again.

  This psychotic repetitive behavior went on for fifteen minutes straight before Geneva built up the courage to approach her friend.

  “Mildred—” she started, resting a comforting hand on Mildred's shoulder.

  Mildred shrugged her hand off. “He's just late, stuck somewhere, that's all,” she mumbled, and then turned on Geneva and screamed, “He'll be here!”

  Geneva jumped back. Mildred was having a nervous breakdown right before her eyes.

  At two o'clock, Mildred came completely undone, sliding down the marble wall and settling into a weeping mess on the floor.

  Geneva went to her, stooped down beside her, took her hand in hers, and said, “C'mon, girl. Let's go.”

  Mildred snatched her hand back. “You go on, Geneva. He'll be here, I know he will.”

  Geneva felt horrible leaving her there, but she had a job that she liked and needed, and she'd already been gone for two hours.

  “I'll call you later,” Geneva said, after giving Mildred a hug and stepping into the waiting elevator.

  By four o'clock the sky had opened up, soaking Mildred to the bone as she walked slowly toward the subway.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-seven

  So what are you going to do with your money, man?”

  They'd actually walked away with a million and a half dollars. Tony had only exchanged a hundred thousand dollars' worth of his gold bullion; the rest he'd socked away in a safe-deposit box.

  “Me,” Tony said with a smile, “I'm going to ride off into the sunset.”

  The sunset for Tony was Barbados. His birthplace. His mother had a vacant lot on the popular western coast of the island, directly across from the ocean, and he was going to build his dream house on it.

  He'd told his mother that Greene Investments was opening an office on the island and that he had been chosen to run it.

  Barbados was booming, and the cost of living had sky-rocketed, but his American dollar was worth double there, and he had plans to start a business. He was going to buy a few Jet Skis and then a small yacht and while away his days drinking rum punch and romancing beautiful women, until he found the right one.

  The right one.

  The one he would marry and start a family with. That's what he was going to do.

  “What about you, Zebby? What are you going to do?”

  Zebby laughed. “If I tell you, I'm going to have to kill you.”

  He seemed to be joking, but something in Tony told him that Zebby wasn't being completely humorous.

  “So when do you ride off into the sunset?” Zebby asked as he refilled Tony's snifter with cognac.

  “Tomorrow morning at seven A.M.”

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-eight

  Three days had passed by the time Geneva had the superintendent of the building open Mildred's door and they walked in to find her, still dressed in her wedding gown, sprawled out on the living room floor.

  The superintendent's eyes bulged. “Is she dead?”

  Geneva rushed to her side and fell down to her knees, screaming, “Oh Lord, don't let her be dead!” as she started violently shaking her.

  “What?” Mildred muttered, her blood-shot eyes slowly opening.

  Geneva let go a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”

  And then Geneva made a face. “Your breath smells like shit,” she said, waving her hands in front of her nose. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Yes. Look,” the superintendent announced, using one of the thousand keys on the ring he held to point at the evidence.

  Lined up neatly along the side of the couch were five empty bottles of champagne.

  Geneva struggled to her feet. “Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez. You can go now,” she said as she ushered him toward the door.

  “You sure? Maybe she needs her stomach pumped.”

  “No, no, I'm sure she's fine.”

  “Maybe”—Mr. Rodriguez turned to face Geneva—“she loco in her cabeza?” he said, pointing to his head.

  When she'd finally gotten Mr. Rodriguez out of the apartment, Geneva went back to Mildred.
r />   “Get up,” she said, grabbing Mildred by the hand and tugging. “Get up and pull yourself together.”

  Mildred looked a mess. Her hair lay helter-skelter all over her head and her lips were puffed and swollen.

  Reluctantly, Mildred struggled to her feet. Filthy streaks and something that looked like blood splotches were all over the wedding gown and the bodice looked like it had been torn.

  “What happened to you?” Geneva asked, pointing to the damage on the dress and then her wreck of a mouth.

  Mildred looked down at it as if surprised before the memory floated back to her. “I couldn't get it off and so I tried to cut my way out of it,” she slurred as Geneva guided her toward the bathroom.

  When they got to the bathroom, Geneva noticed that it wasn't just the alcohol that was making Mildred slur.

  “What happened to your teeth!”

  Mildred's two front teeth were missing, leaving a gaping dark space.

  Mildred touched her mouth. “Oh,” she moaned, “I tripped coming up from the train station and fell right on my face.”

  Well, Geneva guiltily thought as she helped Mildred out of the wedding gown, that certainly isn't the worst thing that could have happened to her.

  An hour later, Mildred sat on the couch, wrapped in her terry cloth robe, sipping tea. The sobbing would stop and start and then stop again. Geneva held her hand the entire time, forbidding herself to say “I told you so.”

  “He's a piece of shit,” Geneva spat. “A low-down dirty dog.”

  Mildred flinched with every word.

  “This too shall pass,” Geneva said, her voice taking on a softer tone. “It'll be tough, but you're strong and you'll survive this,” she said, patting her hand. “And don't you worry, Mildred—he'll get his. Karma is a bitch.”

  She couldn't go back to work. Couldn't face her coworkers and certainly not her boss. So she swore Geneva to secrecy. Told her to tell people that she'd spoken to her and that she and Tony were off on their honeymoon. She needed time to collect herself, to think about how she was going to right this terrible wrong.

  A million and a half dollars. A million and a half dollars.