Enticed

by Malone, Amy

  Mark stood outside a few moments, thinking. Well, looks like breakfast with Alana is out. He could pick up the phone, make some witty remark and explain what was happening to Alana, but several things stopped him. First, Alana and he had just reconnected yesterday. He wanted to take some time and actually explore this, but they were at a fragile stage. If Alana found out that his ex-wife was in town, she might get it into her head that things weren’t resolved between them, that they still had feelings for each other. From Mark’s perspective, that simply wasn’t true.

  The second reason was more subtle and had to do with the feeling in Mark’s gut when he had seen Tammy’s car. This was his place, a holy ground of some of his most sacred memories of happy times. He felt like his essential nature was somehow bound to this small town, and in it lied the secret at the core of himself. It was a secret that he’d hidden from Tammy during all their years together, as he had never invited her here - though she knew about the place. In Mark’s defense, she’d never asked, and the small town wasn’t really her style anyway. It’d simply never come up.

  But now, here she was, intruding into this place without notice or respect like two horny teenagers in a graveyard. Not only that, but she’d had the audacity to go stomping into his grandfather’s house without permission. Mark calmed himself. It’s alright. I’ll throw her out. Maybe even in time to catch Alana for brunch.

  He strode confidently in, nearly slamming the door off of its hinges and not bothering to close it. After all, she’d be leaving out of it in just a second. Mark strode confidently forward, his powerful mind concocting with all speed the most terrible and satisfying version of “get out and stay out” that it possibly could. If Tammy heard the slam she ignored it, continuing to cook in the kitchen, and only looking up when he arrived at the kitchen entrance at the end of the main hall.

  “Hello dear. Breakfast will be ready in a moment,” she said, smiling. Mark found his charge losing momentum. There was something incredibly disarming about Tammy’s composure. She had smiled as if they were back in the city and he was coming home during a normal day of work. Except this wasn’t how it had been. He noticed she was cooking his favorite breakfast, hash browns, eggs, toast, and bacon, and this shocked him on two levels: first, Tammy almost never cooked, and never exclusively for him and second, he hadn’t even known that she was aware of his favorite meal. And this was something else that made Tammy dangerous: she always picked up on the little truths revealed in the minutiae of information, sensing weak spots and advantages and exploiting them at exactly the right time. This time, it didn’t matter.

  “Tammy. Get out of her RIGHT NOW,” Mark said, with somewhat less rage than he’d originally intended.

  “Alright honey,” she said, smiling sweetly. She took her apron off, kissed on the cheek, patted him on his crotch, and left. It was eleven a.m., and Mark felt strongly that he needed a glass of bourbon to process what had just happened.

  It took Mark three hours and two glasses of bourbon to finally figure out what had happened. Tammy had come in, finding the key underneath the stone in front. When he’d arrived, she’d been sure not to react to him. This had thrown him off, first. Then, we he told her to leave she’d offered no resistance, never allowing his anger to gain purchase. Last, she’d patted him on the crotch. An act of possession, but also an action that - if he were honest about it - had aroused him slightly. Of course, out of curiosity, he’d sampled the food, eventually eating it all as the alcohol made him hungrier. It’d been delicious. He burst out laughing when he realized that, when he’d gone to look for the bourbon, it was sitting conveniently on the kitchen counter next to a lipstick stained glass with a few drops of it left. Which would make perfect sense…except that Tammy hated bourbon. Had she planned the whole thing, or did she merely work off of instinct? One thing was clear, and that was that he was right to marry her in the sense that she was a magnificent woman. He had gained great joy, over the years, from seeing Tammy - an African American woman - use people and society’s underestimations of her against them. Realizing two of the defining relationships in his life were with black women, he wondered if there was some relationship between them. Sure, physically Alana and Tammy were similar, and years of watching Alana during swimsuit summers with tank tops and knee length dresses had left an impression on Mark. On the other hand, it seemed their similarities ended there. Alana was less contrived and more natural, a facet of her personality Mark was pleased had survived the years. Tammy was cunning and ruthless, burning bright with ambition and confident in what she wanted - at least at any given moment. She was a genius in a certain sense, and dangerous. Worse, it seemed that, for one reason or another, she wasn’t done with Mark.

  Mark checked his phone. It was a little after three. Still not too late to grab lunch with Alana. He wondered if he was upset with her. He’d cancelled without any explanation on the day after they’d been intimate together. There was no way around it. He needed to give her some sort of explanation. Mark didn’t want to lie to Alana, but neither did he want tell her what was happening. He picked up his phone and called her.

  Chapter Four

  Alana was out on the front porch drinking homemade lemonade and looking out into the wild when Mark’s call came. She’d left her phone in the guest room on the bed, not wanting to wait for a call she was afraid would never come. After she’d calmed down, Alana realized that she’d overreacted to Mark cancelling breakfast. He was a busy man, after all, and it was entirely possible business of one sort or another had come up. Also, he’d just gotten out of a very messy and very public divorce; one Alana had been kind and smart enough not to mention until he did. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be involved with someone, again. Hell, it’s pretty likely that your own recent past is the reason you overreacted, today, she admitted inwardly.

  Mainly, she just hoped she hadn’t lost one of her oldest friends. She went inside for a few moments, looking for a book to read in between gazing out into the forest and nearby lake. Breaking down, she peaked into her room on the way to her aunt’s bookshelf, checking the phone. It looked like Mark had called. See. He’s probably going to apologize and explain. Stop getting so upset that easily. Alana looked at the time of the call. It had been only a few minutes ago. She decided that, after that stunt, she’d let him call a few more times. Maybe she had overreacted but, she felt, he still deserved to sweat a little. And, she supposed, she didn’t want to seem as desperate for his company as she actually was.

  Mark sighed and put the phone down after his second call. Back in his single days (which, he supposed, he was in now again), he had a rule about calling a girl more than once in the same day if she didn’t answer. He’d hoped that maybe that didn’t apply here, but it seemed like he was wrong. It was his own fault, he knew, for saying he’d be back in half an hour then cancelling on her, but his pride still hurt at the action. It was also possible that she thought last night was a mistake, that he’d taken advantage of his relationship with her. He supposed, on some level, that was true. However, he just couldn’t bring himself to regret the previous evening. And now Tammy was in town. He couldn’t relax, not until he was sure Tammy was gone. The only way to do that, of course, was to call her. Mark still felt like he could control this situation, but wondered if that were a delusion. Here he was, thinking about a woman he had successfully pushed out of his mind and planning on calling her - something he’d swore he’d never do, again. And that was just on her first day.

  Mark scrolled down his contacts list until he reached her name. A picture of her smiling brightly in a black dress popped onto his screen, a memento from better times. He pressed the call button and listened to the ring on the other end. Steeling himself, Mark tried to convince himself that he didn’t actually need to know why she was in town. He just needed her to leave. Anything Tammy had to say to him, she could run through his lawyer. The other end picked up and Mark heard Tammy’s voice.

  “Hello?” she said. It sounded like she’d bee
n crying.

  Tammy saw everything turn red as she left Mark’s cabin. When she’d first arrived at the house that morning, she’d been surprised to find that Mark wasn’t there, but had started cooking anyway - easily finding the key under the stone. She’d hoped that he was in town on an errand, and would be back soon. Tammy had found out he was in Amberville through a very dependable private eye by the name of Roscoe, who reported to her his whereabouts and activities, weekly. It wasn’t that she was suspicious of him, per se, but more like she wanted to be aware of all that happened around her. She wouldn’t allow herself to become one of those hopelessly trusting and naïve housewives who were caught unawares by comments from friends or a pair of unfamiliar panties in the wash or - god forbid - television cameras.

  When Mark had wandered in annoyed, it was all exactly as she had anticipated. Except for one thing. His clothes were wrinkled and he smelled of another woman’s perfume. Being as clever and composed as she was, she hadn’t let on that she had noticed these things when he had sauntered into the kitchen, but had instead stuck to her plan. People that adapt the fastest yet stick to their long term goals are those who succeeded, after all. And Tammy wanted to succeed. Desperately.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t love Mark, in her own way. Rather, it was more that that love would always come second to her ambitions. More important than her love for Mark was her need for him, for where he fit into her plan. But now, there was a complication. A woman. She hadn’t anticipated this kind of obstacle.

  Tammy tried to tell herself, that he’d been lonely. That it had just been a one-night stand and there was no need to worry (after all, she was in no position to judge - she’d had a few extramarital encounters even when they were married). But something nagged at the back of her mind, and though she tried to silence it, it broke through and exposed what she knew to be the truth: Mark simply wasn’t a one-night stand sort of man. Not normally. That meant it was someone with whom he had history. But who? To get that information, she needed only to go to the center of all gossip in any small town. She would book a room at the local motel, and head to church for the evening service.

  Later, as she was just settling down in her motel room (a very bad one, she felt, but the nearby bed and breakfast was booked for the next two weeks, already) her anger began to turn to fear and sadness. Here she was, in the middle of nowhere, sleeping in a shit hotel and thinking of her former husband, a man who was very likely not thinking of her. Worse, he might even be thinking about another woman.

  Her life had been one defining struggle after another. She’d come from nothing, doing whatever she’d had to do to make it this far. She abandoned friends, traded lovers for better positioned ones (even while she was married), lied, cheated, manipulated. But she tried to remind herself that it was for a greater purpose. And this was no different. True, she’d made some mistakes handling Mark the first time, but this time she would entangle him in a grip so perfect he would never escape. Tammy suspected that Mark sensed the danger. That was part of the reason why he’d been so quick to throw her out. Good, she thought. It’s better if he resists. Otherwise, what fun is it? She laughed through her tears. She wouldn’t be defeated by a setback like this. Mark had been the only man who fit her complex and myriad criteria for a mate whom she could build a life with. Ambitious, strong, smart, malleable without being soft. Just a little naïve. Yes, she had big plans for Mark.

  Just then, the phone rang.

  “Speak of the devil,” she said to the empty room, looking at Mark’s call ring in her phone. She started to clear her throat and stopped. No, let him hear the tears in your voice. And so Tammy answered the phone throat scratchy and voice stammering softly.

  “He - hello?”

  “Tammy?”

  “What do you want, Mark?” she asked. On the other end of the phone, a smile cracked across her face. There was no way he would try to make her leave, now.

  On the other end, Mark hesitated. This was probably a ploy, but he had no intention of falling for it. Still, he wasn’t a monster. As gently as possible, be pressed toward her leaving town.

  “Tammy, I was a little shocked to find you at my Grandpop’s house. What are you doing here?”

  Tammy sniffled slightly, buying time to recover from his question. She’d expected: “What’s wrong, Tam?”

  “I don’t know, Mark. I’ve just been so confused since you’ve left. Dealing with everyone…it’s too much. I don’t have a place like this to run to. I guess I wanted to see you again, and just…just talk. If you’re not ready, I understand. I’ve already booked the soonest plane ticket out of the city nearby. If you change your mind, I’m at the hotel on Henley St. Ask for Tammy’s room at the front desk; they know to expect a Mark.”

  She hung up without another word.

  Mark was thrown off again by her apparent attitude. It was almost apologetic. He tried to remind himself that is was a ruse, that the moment he gave into her she would begin to revert back into what she was previously, but it was impossible to deny some seed of his former feelings had been stirred. After all, he’d spent years with this person. Years. Could he easily throw that all away? And for what, a shot with Alana? She hadn’t even picked up his call this morning. Probably, she was already upset with him.

  Sure, he felt powerfully for Alana. More powerfully than for any woman he felt something for thus far. But it was just the passion of fresh love, the nostalgia of their history. Right? Mark felt confused. Maybe calling Alana again wasn’t a good idea. Not until he had this sorted. After all, Tammy had come all this way just for a chance to cook him his favorite meal, and he’d responded by being suspicious, rude, and hurtful.

  The point was, he thought, how could he justify giving up years of marriage (though granted, they were now divorced) for a woman who probably thought he was a rebound? Mark sighed. Yes, Tammy was manipulative. Yes, there relationship had been trapped in a cycle of secrets and power plays. But maybe, just maybe there was something still there. Didn’t he owe it to both of them to check one last time? He had been concerned that Alana would think he still had feelings for his ex-wife. Maybe he was really more concerned that she would think this because it was the truth. Before he could do anything with Alana, he needed to talk to Tammy one last time. Mark scrolled to Tammy’s number in contacts, pressed the call button, and waited. Yes, he owed it to himself to check. But deep down, he knew: he just wanted her gone for good without any question that he had made the wrong decision.

  Chapter Five

  Alana glanced down at her phone, doing exactly what she had promised herself she wouldn’t do. She’d planned on picking up the phone when Mark called the third time. Only he hadn’t. Now, here she was, wishing she’d picked up and listened to his explanation. In an attempt to save face and reestablish communication at the same time, Alana sent Mark a short text:

  Sorry I missed your calls. Was out for a walk. What’s up?

  She then put on a pair of biking shorts, walked out to her aunt’s garage, and took her old bike off its rack. Alana was pleased to find that, apparently, it was still in good shape.

  The day was still bright as she rode down the asphalt road, smiling with pleasure at being reunited once again with her trusty steel steed. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going, and was deciding whether to go on one of the bike trails or head into town when Mark’s car in his grandfather’s driveway pulled into view. What had happened? It never occurred to her that Mark hadn’t called because he was hurt, or had just gotten bad news - on top of his divorce and the death of his grandfather. She pulled beside his driveway, lowering the kick stand with one leg. I’ll just check to make sure he’s okay.

  She peaked through the front window adjacent to the door, looking for him inside. Seeing no one there, she gave the door a soft knock. No one answered.

  “Hello? Mark?”

  Right at that moment, it occurred to Alana how utterly pathetic it might look if Mark found that she had come by his house wh
en he hadn’t called. Pathetic and crazy. She turned around at a dash back to her bike, but it was too late. Mark answered.

  “Alana? Hey, I got your message. Listen, I really wanted to explain -”

  “I’ve gotta go. I’ll catch you on my way back, okay?” she said it and didn’t wait for a response, and was back on her bike and down the road before Mark could think of one.

  Alana decided to go on a bike trail. It was evening now, and the sun would be setting soon, but she didn’t want to risk running into Mark later in town. Of the paths she used to frequent as a child, her favorite was one of the lesser used. It was next to the church, starting behind it and going on for miles to join one of the main paths. Technically it was closed off, but Alana knew that place like the back of her hand, and was sure it hadn’t changed much.

  A few cars dotted the church’s parking lot for a weekday evening service. Alana considered riding by without saying hello to anyone, but decided against it. It would be good for people to know where she was, in case something happened and, more to the point, it was just plain rude. As she pulled her bicycle aside the church, lowering the kickstand once more, people began to pour out of the church doors.

  She spotted Pastor Whitman coming out along with the congregation as he normally did, chatting with them. At the moment, he was talking to an attractive woman with dark skin and black hair who Alana didn’t recognize. Alana got the distinct impression she wasn’t from the town. She overheard their conversation: