Seduction

by Geneva Holliday

  Mildred had bristled at his comment but said nothing.

  “When you walk out of here,” he continued, “you'll walk out a new woman from the inside out.”

  Mildred supposed that that last statement was true, because upon his return two months later he was introducing himself to Mildred as if they'd never met.

  Mildred took his hand in hers and said, “Dr. Heath, it's me. Mildred Johnson.”

  Dr. Heath's mouth dropped open and he took three steps backward. “You're not!”

  Mildred blushed. “Yes, yes, I am.”

  “My God, you look fabulous!”

  Mildred had never in her life been referred to as fabulous or any other adjective that would fall in the same category.

  Mildred uttered a nervous “Thank you” as she fiddled with the bridge of her glasses.

  “I don't think any of my guests have had the results you've achieved in such a short amount of time,” Heath gushed. “I think you need to be our spokesperson!”

  Surely he was kidding?

  Wasn't a spokesperson something like a spokesmodel?

  The word reverberated in her mind:

  Model. Model. Model. Model.

  Mildred gave her head a violent shake.

  “Tell me, Mildred: did Chevy take any before pictures of you?”

  This man was serious. Mildred slowly nodded.

  “Good. I'm going to get on this right away.” Dr. Heath's voice was filled with excitement.

  “Congratulations, Mildred. You've found your better self.”

  She wasn't thin by any means, but she was now a perfect size twelve. That was a long way from a size twenty-four.

  And now Mildred found that she couldn't stop looking at her butt. She'd always had a butt—well, she'd had a double-wide trailer type of behind—but this new ass was round and tight and evidently mesmerizing, because the men who worked on the property couldn't seem to concentrate on their work whenever she was around.

  And she had a walk too.

  Well, that's what Chevy said.

  A walk that had been hidden for years beneath the weight.

  And Mildred had cheekbones! Native American type cheekbones. High and striking. And between the lack of junk food and the increase in her fruit, vegetable, and water consumption, her skin tone had taken on a healthy glow that was complemented by the suntan she sported.

  She was feeling really good about herself. The best she'd ever felt about herself, actually. Well, until she met with Chevy and Dr. Heath for her exit interview.

  “Those tits! Those tits have got to go. They're like hot water bottles,” Chevy said, pointing to them. “And those glasses . . . those awful glasses have got to go, as well!”

  Mildred pushed her glasses back up her nose and then folded her arms protectively across her sagging breasts.

  “Your breasts belong to the body you used to have,” Dr. Heath explained. “And, well, it's 2007—I'm sure you're ready for contacts by now, hmmm?” Dr. Heath reached for Mildred's bifocals and removed them. “What big beautiful eyes you have, Mildred!”

  Mildred blinked at Dr. Heath's blurry image before reaching for her glasses.

  “Contacts are fine I suppose, but an operation?” she said after she'd put on her glasses.

  Dr. Heath leaned forward and rested those fatherly eyes on Mildred. “It's a practically painless procedure.”

  “You said practically painless—” Mildred started.

  “Aw, c'mon,” Chevy erupted, banging her hands down on the table. “No pain, no fucking gain!”

  Dr. Heath sighed. “Mildred, darling, there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about. I will handle the procedure myself.” And then he looked calmly over at Chevy and said, “Dear, I think you need to take some time off.”

  CHAPTER

  Forty-nine

  It was just about eleven in the morning when the tourists started to slowly drift into the Blue Monkey Beach Bar and situate themselves at the umbrella-shaded tables, ordering the first of many rounds of beer, rum punch, or frosted fruity cocktails.

  Tony was seated at a table right alongside the railing overlooking the beach, which allowed him a bird's-eye view of everything and everyone.

  His Jet Skis had been in the water since ten o'clock, and from looking at his planner he saw that they were booked solid until three that afternoon.

  “Can I get you something, Tony?” the pretty young waitress inquired.

  Tony looked up at her. Her name was Ritz and she had green eyes. She was a beauty, but a beauty that was too young for him. He'd heard from the other guys that she'd just made nineteen years old a few weeks back, even though she had the body of a twenty-five-year-old. He also knew that she'd been fucking since she was thirteen, which was probably why her body was so womanly.

  “Just some water,” Tony said, and then licked his lips as he watched the girl stroll off. He could kick himself for having morals, because he sure did want to hit that!

  He turned his attention back to the beach. The chaise lounges the bar rented out were filling up quickly, and those who did not want a chaise lounge spread their blankets on the hot sand.

  This was his favorite part of the day, when the European girls came down and dropped their tops to get an even tan. He was treated to the sight of rows and rows of perky nipples reaching toward the sun.

  Ritz returned with the water and her number scribbled noticeably on the napkin. Tony smiled and nodded at her. He would keep the number, and maybe in a year or so . . .

  Tony shook the thought off and crumpled the napkin into a ball. Just as he was about to take a swig of the water, he looked up and saw two women walking down the beach. One was dark-skinned with long black hair. She had on a wide-brimmed straw hat, dark shades, and a glaringly white one-piece bathing suit that left little to the imagination; so many critical panels had been excluded.

  The woman who walked a little behind her was brown-skinned, with . . . Tony leaned forward and removed his shades . . . he couldn't tell if she had locks or braids. She wasn't as tall as the first woman, and the white cover-up she wore fell to her knees. Tony smirked. Well, at least from what he could see, she had nice calves.

  “You're being stupid.”

  “I'm not.”

  “You're going to sit out in this hot sun in that cover-up.”

  “It's not so hot.”

  “Take it off.”

  “I-I can't.”

  “If you don't, I will.”

  This was Mildred's second trip away from the Chimbarosa property. The first trip had been to Bridgetown, shopping for a new wardrobe. A lot of good it was going to do her; it was wintertime back in the States and there wasn't a turtleneck to be found in any one of the island shops.

  She was scheduled to head back to New York in three days and so was trying to get in as many touristy activities as possible.

  She'd begged Chevy to accompany her to the beach and Chevy had agreed, but not until she'd bitched and moaned about how much damage the sun did to one's skin.

  Now, at Chevy's threat, Mildred took hold of the hem of the cover-up and began to slowly raise it. When it got to her waist, she chickened out and dropped it back down to her knees again.

  Chevy gave her an icy look.

  “Okay, damn,” Mildred said, and in one quick move she disrobed and then quickly sat down on the chaise.

  She was waiting for the entire beach to erupt in laughter, but all she heard was an approving whistle.

  “See?” Chevy grinned.

  She'd moved quick, but Tony did catch a glance, and he liked what he saw. “Damn,” he muttered to himself as he stood up and started down the steps and across the sand toward the two women.

  “I'm thirsty,” Chevy uttered casually. “Why don't you go get us a cold drink?”

  Mildred sighed. What, now she was her maid too?

  “Up there, at the bar,” Chevy said, lifting her hand and pointing toward the restaurant.

  Mildred squinted. The sun reflec
ted off the sand, blinding her. Turning around, she reached for her cover-up and found that it was gone.

  “Chevy?”

  “What?”

  “Where is it?”

  “Where's what?”

  Mildred was exasperated. “I know you don't expect me to walk up there in just my bathing suit.”

  Chevy ignored her as she smeared sunblock down her arm.

  “Well, I guess you won't be getting your cool drink then, 'cause I ain't going without my cover-up.”

  Mildred flopped back down into her chair.

  “Oh, all right, you big baby!” Chevy reached into her straw bag, pulled out the cover-up, and tossed it at Mildred. “Now go!”

  Mildred was proud of herself. It was rare that she won a round with Chevy.

  Now standing up again, she slipped the cover-up over her head, and when she looked up, she saw someone that stopped her heart.

  Mildred blinked, rubbed her eyes, and then blinked again. She was still getting used to wearing contacts.

  “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

  “What?” Chevy said, sitting up and looking in the direction Mildred was fixated on.

  “That's . . . that's . . .” Mildred stuttered. Her entire body began to shake.

  “That's who?” Chevy asked, and then looked at Mildred's trembling flesh. “What the hell is wrong with you, girl?”

  “It's him,” Mildred said in a quivering voice.

  “Him who?” Chevy gave Mildred's thigh a sharp slap.

  “Tony,” Mildred whispered in disbelief.

  Chevy's neck snapped and her head swung around again.

  “Tony from New York Tony?”

  Mildred slowly nodded.

  “Are you sure?”

  Again Mildred nodded her head.

  Tony had on his Hollywood smile, the smile he was wearing the very first time Mildred had laid eyes on him. It was like déjà vu.

  She watched in quiet amazement as he approached. Strong thighs cooked a deep chocolate brown from the sun. Biceps more muscular than she remembered, and of course there was the ever-present bulge.

  Mildred felt as if she was about to faint and grabbed hold of the chair, steadying herself.

  “Hello,” Tony said when he was just a foot away. “I'm Tony. I just had to come over and introduce myself to you gorgeous women.”

  His eyes were glued to Mildred and he gave her an appreciative nod.

  Both Chevy and Mildred were struck speechless.

  Silence hung between them. Silence so long that time itself seemed to have come to a halt. And in that moment Mildred recalled with vivid clarity every single word that had passed between them. She relived every sexual encounter and then that awful day when she, dressed in her wedding gown, realized that she had been taken for a fool.

  She'd thought she'd rid herself of the anger the way she'd rid herself of the weight, but in that moment she knew that it was still there, and growing with every breath she took.

  Finally, Chevy broke the trance.

  “I'm Chevanese Cambridge. But everybody calls me Chevy,” Chevy said, extending her hand to him. Tony shook it, his eyes still glued to Mildred.

  “And you are?” Tony asked, holding his hand out to Mildred.

  Mildred couldn't believe it. He didn't recognize her. He really didn't recognize her!

  She didn't know what to say, how to respond. Her mouth was working, but nothing came out.

  So Chevy jumped in and said, “Oh, this is M—”

  At that moment, Mildred sprang to life.

  “I'm Karma,” she said.

  Tony took her hand into his. “Karma? What a unique and beautiful name.”

  Mildred had to force a smile. His touch made her skin crawl.

  “I've never seen you girls here before. Did you just fly in?”

  Again Chevy opened her mouth to answer but was blocked by Mildred's quick response.

  “I came in last night to visit Chevy . . . She lives here.”

  “First time on the island?”

  Mildred nodded.

  “It's a lovely place to visit, an even better place to live,” Tony said.

  Chevy realized that he was still holding Mildred's hand.

  “Really?” Mildred said. “Do you live here?”

  “Well, now I do,” Tony said. “I'm building a house just up the road from here.”

  Mildred felt her insides turn over.

  With the money I helped you steal!

  “That's nice,” Chevy interjected. “So, what kind of work do you do?”

  Tony finally turned his attention to Chevy. “A little bit of this and a little bit of that.”

  Releasing Mildred's hand, he pointed out to the ocean.

  “You see those two Jet Skis, the ones with the yellow, green, and black stripes?”

  Chevy and Mildred turned and peered out at the ocean.

  “I rent those out to the tourists,” he proudly announced, “but I'd be willing to take you ladies out for a ride at no charge.”

  Chevy knew the offer was really meant for Mildred.

  “I'd like that,” Mildred said in a confident voice. “I'd like that very much.”

  Tony pulled a business card from the back pocket of his swim trunks and handed it to Mildred.

  “I'll be waiting for your call,” he said before flashing his million-dollar smile and strutting off.

  Mildred imagined herself leaping on top of him and driving punch after punch into his head before stomping him into the sand.

  “Well, Miss Thang,” Chevy sang. “Or shall I refer to you as Karma?”

  Mildred said nothing.

  “The universe can be a strange and wonderful place,” Chevy mused aloud.

  “How so?”

  “Look, it placed you two at the same company in New York and now on the same island. Don't you find that strange?”

  Mildred found it disturbing.

  “Well, I guess we should get going, huh? You've got to get back, start packing—”

  “Oh, no. I'm not going no-fucking-where,” Mildred emphatically announced. “Not until I ruin him.”

  Chevy felt a cold shiver shoot down her spine. She didn't think Geneva knew all of what went on between those two, but Chevy had the distinct feeling that it constituted more than a broken heart.

  Tony sent two rum punches over to the women. And though he didn't approach them again for the rest of the time they were there, he did spy from behind the safety of his sunglasses.

  He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something terribly familiar about that Karma woman. Something he couldn't put his finger on. Something that made his balls tingle. His balls were never wrong, but shit, she was gorgeous and he just wouldn't be Tony Landry if he didn't go for it—tingling balls or no tingling balls—now would he?

  CHAPTER

  Fifty

  You've got to be kidding me,” Geneva wailed from her bedroom in Manhattan. “He's there?”

  Mildred clutched the phone tightly in her hand.

  “Yes. I don't believe it myself.”

  “And are you sure he didn't recognize you?”

  “I'm sure.”

  “Do you really look that much different?” Geneva's tone was skeptical.

  “I guess. I must—he stood a foot away from me and I didn't see a flicker of recognition on his face.” Mildred sounded unsure. “Well, you decide,” she continued, and used the cell phone to snap a picture of herself. “I'm sending you a picture to your cell.”

  Geneva was quiet for a while, and then Mildred heard a beeping sound coming from Geneva's end of the line. “Just a second,” Geneva said, and then off in the distance Mildred could hear her howl, “Holy fucking shit!” and then into the phone, “Y'all think I'm stupid, don't you?”

  “Geneva, what—?”

  “Did Chevy put you up to this?”

  “Chevy? No, I—”

  “There is no way in the world that this is you, Mildred. In fact, is this even Mildred that I'
m speaking to? 'Cause if you want to know the truth, it don't really sound like you.”

  Well, she knew she sounded a little different. She was certainly more confident; she was sure that was apparent, even in her voice.

  But still, Mildred felt insulted. Had she been that horrible a sight before?

  “Geneva!” Mildred yelled into the phone. “It's me. I swear on my mother's grave, it's me!”

  Geneva went quiet again. To tell the truth, she was a little envious. She took control of her emotions and said, “For real?”

  “Yes, for real.”

  “Well, girl, you look good. Damn good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you're not going to call him, are you?”

  Mildred's eyes popped. Of course she was going to call him.

  “Well, I had intended to—”

  Geneva's voice climbed. “After what he did to you, why in the world would you want to give that bastard even an ounce of your time!”

  Mildred allowed Geneva to rant for another few seconds before cutting her off.

  “It's not what you think, Geneva.”

  “What is it, then?”

  Geneva suddenly felt a pang of horror resound through her.

  “Now wait a minute, Mildred, you're not intending to . . . I mean, you're not going to—”

  “Kill him?”

  Mildred's tone was like ice.

  Geneva was almost afraid to ask: “Are you?”

  Mildred was silent for a moment. She'd imagined killing him a number of different times in just as many ways. But death was too easy a punishment. Tony needed to suffer.

  “No. That is not my intention.”

  “Then what are you planning on doing?”

  “I think the less you know, the better, Geneva.”

  Geneva pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it in utter amazement. Was this her mild-mannered friend Mildred Johnson?

  “What has Chevy done to you?”

  Mildred thought about that for a moment. “I guess,” she said in a chilling tone, “something that I wouldn't have been able to do for myself.”

  Geneva didn't quite understand her response.

  “Mildred—”

  “Geneva, I gotta go. I'll call you in a week.”