by Dwan Abrams
He wanted to get a small business loan so that he’d have a line of credit available, even if he didn’t use it all. As a business major, he learned in college that most businesses failed during the first five years due to lack of resources and working capital.
He smiled at the fact that he had taken the first steps toward becoming an entrepreneur and decided to take a break. So, he left his home office and went to check on Shania. He found her in the basement, sliding a pan in the oven.
When she saw him, she wiped her hands on her apron. “I didn’t think I’d see you at all today with the way you’ve been cooped up in your office.”
He wrinkled his forehead. “Been looking for a job.”
She gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. “How’d it go?”
“Got some leads that I plan to follow up on.”
She held his hands and looked him in the eyes. “I spoke with my travel agent today, and she found a good deal on a trip to Jamaica.”
He stepped back; his brows knitted together. He wondered if he had heard her correctly. He tried to wrap his brain around why Shania would want to take a trip when the rug had been pulled from under him. Did she really think he’d be in the mood to sit on the beach, sipping piña coladas, when he didn’t have a job and didn’t know how long his savings would last? Was she in la-la land?
A part of him felt like Shania didn’t have a clue sometimes. Instead of harping in on her like he initially wanted to, he kept a cool demeanor. His wife and he both had been a little testy since they bumped heads at church, and he didn’t like it. He knew that he was partly to blame for being consumed with the brown-eyed woman at church and Mother Washington. He couldn’t even explain his behavior other than the fact that his gut kept telling him that something was wrong.
He was ready to squash this tension in their relationship and go back to those blissful honeymoon days, where their biggest confrontation was whether they wanted sausage or bacon for breakfast, or whether they wanted to light vanilla-or apple-pie-scented candles.
“Jamaica sounds great, babe. But I don’t think this is the right time for a vacation,” he said, trying his best to remain calm. “What’re you cooking? Smells pretty good.”
“Will you let me explain before you shoot it down?” She followed him to the oven. “This would be the perfect time for us to get away, because you don’t have any work obligations right now. You could use the time to get clarity about your career options and your future. Sometimes if you remove yourself from the situation, you get a clearer picture, and you realize that your circumstances aren’t as bleak as you originally thought.” She dropped her hands to her sides.
He allowed her words to sink in, and he had to admit that what she said made sense. A sweet, cinnamon scent captured his attention, and he looked toward the oven again.
Shania sighed and smacked her lips. “They’re sweet rolls. Want one? I think they make pretty good finger food.”
Shania left him standing there while she removed the sticky rolls from the oven and placed them on the counter to let them cool. His mouth watered as he looked on, watching the glazed walnuts slide down the sides of the rolls.
He walked up behind her, held her hips and placed a kiss behind her ear before reaching around her for a roll. She slapped his hand hard and he pulled away, shaking his stinging hand and frowning at her.
“What was that for? I thought you said I could have one.”
“You can . . .” she said, sliding the spatula beneath one of the rolls and holding it near his nose. He inhaled and could literally taste the buttery, gooey treat on his tongue. “If you say yes to Jamaica.”
He chuckled and squeezed her waist. “Oh, so you’re bribing me? With a sweet roll?”
“They’re decadent,” she said, sliding the roll back and forth beneath his nose. “Melt in your mouth good.”
“Okay,” he gave in and took the roll off the spatula. “A getaway just might be what I need.” He bit down into the hot roll and moaned while he chewed. Buttery, sweet, just the right amount of cinnamon. It felt so warm and smooth going down his throat. No wonder these people paid so much money for her food. This woman knew exactly what she was doing.
She waited until he finished chewing, then said with a triumphant smile, “So that’s a yes?”
She offered him a napkin but Greg shook his head and licked each finger clean. “Girl, you stuck your foot in these rolls.” He sucked his thumb clean, then shook his head again. “But I still don’t think a vacation right now is a good idea. Who knows how long it will take me to find a job?”
The frown on her face hurt his heart, and he reached out for her, but she moved away from him.
“Shania, babe, don’t be like that. You know what I’m saying makes a lot of sense.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she whined, then straightened her back and leaned against the counter. “I want you to know that I have every confidence you’ll find another job. But if it doesn’t happen right away, please don’t stress yourself out about it. It’s not the end of the world, Greg. We have enough money to last us—”
“No, you have enough money to last—”
“What’s mine is yours, Greg.” Her voice rose. “It happened the day we said ‘I do.’”
Greg glared at her. “Do you really have to yell at me like that?”
“I didn’t mean to raise my voice, honey. It’s just . . .” Shania threw her spatula on the counter. “I don’t get it. I don’t get you. You go to church every Sunday and minister to all these young people, teaching them about faith, but when the time comes for you to tap into your own faith, you seem so hopeless.”
Greg worked his jaw while he stared at her confused expression. He knew he shouldn’t have come down there. He should’ve just stayed in his office, kept searching for a job, or he should’ve jumped on his bike and took a relieving ride. One thing he didn’t come down there for was another argument. He felt like they had left the door to their relationship cracked open to the devil, and he had come storming in, wreaking havoc every chance he got. Why he thought Shania would actually understand, he had no idea. Yet and still, he decided to give it one more shot.
“Shania, you know I love you, so please don’t take this the wrong way.” He sighed and stepped closer to her. “You already have enough money to last you a lifetime. Even if your business didn’t bring you another red cent, you’d still be okay. You wouldn’t have to get an outside job.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Your house and car are paid for. And you don’t have any real credit card debt.”
“Our house and car,” she corrected him softly. He gave her an exasperated stare, and she sucked in her bottom lip.
“Please, babe. Please. Listen to me.”
She nodded her head.
He patted his chest. “Baby, I’m a man. I could never live off you. No matter how much money you have, that’s your money. I have to feel like I’m contributing and pulling my weight. Without a job, I don’t see how I’m doing that.”
She removed the lid from the container of icing made from powdered sugar and drizzled the rolls. “I hear you, and I respect that. It’s true that the person who earns the most money usually controls the relationship.” She glanced at him. “But that’s not true for us. First of all, the only reason I have more savings than you is because of an inheritance, not because of my labor. And when it comes to our earnings, after my business expenses, our take-home pay is about the same. Plus, you’re a homeowner too. In fact, you have a leg up on me because your property is actually making money.”
“I wasn’t saying all that to make it seem like we’re in some sort of a competition. This isn’t tit for tat.” He sounded sincere. “I wanted you to understand why it’s so important to me to find another job as quickly as possible. I was just pointing out the facts.”
“So was I.” She used a spatula to lift up a warm roll from the baking pan and picked it up. She walked over to him. “Open.”
He opened his mout
h and took a bite. The first roll was delicious, but with the icing, the gooey treat practically melted in his mouth. After he finished chewing, he licked the icing off his lips. “What are you trying to do, fatten me up?”
She laughed and wiped icing from the corner of his lip. “No, I’m just trying to shut you up, but in a sweet way.”
“Shut me up this way more often, and then everything will be cool.”
“I know that’s right,” she agreed with a smile.
“So these sweet rolls, are they for the wedding too?”
“No, I’m completely finished with the wedding stuff. It’s carefully wrapped and stored in airtight containers in the deep freezer to keep it fresh. Now I’m working on the governor’s menu in hopes that I’ll be chosen to cater the induction ceremony.”
She turned to walk away, but he pulled her against him so that her back pressed against his chest. He lifted up her hair, scattering kisses along the nape and sides of her neck. “Tell me what’s on your menu.”
She purred at his kisses and seemed to struggle to recall the menu. “Rolls. That’s my theme. Cinnamon sweet rolls, vegetable spring rolls, Cajun steak rolls with gravy dipping sauce, chicken pinwheels stuffed with spinach and mushrooms, and skewer salads.”
“Skewer salads?”
“Everything you want on a salad, but pinned to a skewer—like green leaf, red leaf, and romaine lettuce, red onion, tomato, cucumber, rolled in olive oil, sprinkled with sesame seeds, drizzled with your favorite dressing.”
“Oh my God, that sounds so good. But I thought the governor just wanted to sample this stuff. Why’d you make so many sweet rolls?”
“The governor gets a sample.” She picked up another sweet roll, but this time ate it herself. “The rest, I baked them just for you.”
Her words were like strings that tugged on his heart. Now he knew why he had come down there to bother her. Because he loved her dearly, and during this dark, cloudy time in his life when he needed a little sunshine, he had her smile to illuminate the darkness.
In one bite, he finished off the roll she’d started on, then turned her in his arms so he could kiss her sweetened lips. He then licked the icing off his fingers and hers, causing her to giggle. He nuzzled her neck and sucked on her skin the same way he had sucked her fingers. What started off as giggles became soft moans, and finally purrs.
Just as he hoisted her up on the counter, he felt a vibration in his pant pocket. He reached to retrieve his iPhone, but Shania grabbed his hand and whispered, “Don’t you dare.”
For the next twenty minutes or so, the phone was completely forgotten. When they finished with their lovemaking, Shania slid to her feet and said, “Check your phone, sweetie. It might be a job calling you back.”
He had completely forgotten that his phone had vibrated. At her suggestion, he pulled his iPhone out of his pocket. He frowned when he noticed it was a missed call from his pastor. Without hesitation, he quickly returned his pastor’s call.
“Hey, Pastor Ray,” he said and winked at Shania. “When you called, I was a little . . . busy. What’s going on?”
“When’s the last time you talked to Mother Washington?”
As soon as he mentioned Mother’s name, Greg’s heart palpitated. “I was just over there last night. Why? What’s wrong? Is everything all right?”
“Oh, I don’t want you to get all worked up.” His pastor attempted to calm him. “She was just on my heart real heavy, and I kept calling over there, but I didn’t get an answer. I want to go by there myself to check on her, but I’m out of town, handling some business, and you could probably get over there before I could.”
“I’m on it, Pastor.”
“As soon as you find out something, give me a call.”
“I will.”
As soon as Greg ended the call, Shania said, “Honey, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Greg said, already slipping on his clothes. “Pastor just wants me to check on Mother Washington.”
“You want me to go with you?” She sounded concerned.
He jogged toward the door. “You can.”
“Well, wait up,” she said, hurrying up and putting her clothes back on. “I’m coming too.”
Minutes later, Greg pulled into Mother Washington’s driveway, and he and Shania rushed out the car and ran to the front door. Greg didn’t bother to knock; he simply let himself in. When he threw open the door, he half expected to see Mother Washington lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. Instead, what he saw sitting on the couch was almost just as bad. Almost.
“Minister Crinkle?” The woman from the bike dealership looked at him with a wide smile, and the way her eyes glittered reminded him of snake eyes. “How good to see you again! How was your birthday? Pleasant, I hope?”
From behind him, Shania said, “Who is she? Greg, how do you know her?”
Greg stared at the woman as though she was a monster that had managed to crawl out of his worst nightmare. “What are you doing in Mother Washington’s house?”
“I’m Kristen, her daughter—technically her niece, but she’s always been like a mother to me.”
As fragments of the conversation he and Mother Washington had shared the night before wafted up from his memories, Greg looked at Kristen hard, but the adrenaline and fear pumping through his veins distorted his perceptions. He was unable to make the connection that she was one of the two daughters Mother Washington had told him about.
“Where’s Mother Washington?” Greg wanted to know.
Kristen rose from the plush chair, and when she stood and he saw what she had on, he had no choice but to look away. She was braless in a white wife-beater that was tied into a knot at the back, showing off her ironing-board-flat belly and her angel belly ring. She wore a pair of shorts so tiny and tight that he was surprised she could actually move in them.
She looked over Greg’s shoulder and said to his wife, “We met on his birthday, the same day he bought that beautiful bike of his. I actually helped him pick out his helmet. You know, the red and black one.”
He felt Shania’s hand give him a light shove. “You didn’t tell me about meeting any woman at the dealership.”
What he wanted to say was he didn’t meet a woman at the dealership, he met a slut, and she was standing right in front of the helmets. Instead, he said, “I didn’t think it was important.” Which, in essence, was the truth.
“Well, I’m Shania,” she said and held out her hand to the woman. “I’m his wife.”
“Kristen.” Instead of shaking the offered hand, Kristen stared at it like it was a disease until Shania’s cheeks reddened, and she retracted her hand.
“So she’s your wife?” Kristen asked, looking at Greg curiously. “You never mentioned anything about having a wife. To be honest, I don’t even recall you wearing a ring on that day.”
“Excuse me?” Shania said, grabbing Greg’s shoulder and turning him to face her.
Greg went into a coughing spell as he choked on his spit. He couldn’t believe this woman was standing there telling bald-faced lies. When he could breathe again, he said, “You know what? I don’t know what games you’re trying to play, but I’m not playing it with you. Where’s Mother Washington?”
“You sure didn’t mind playing my little game at the BMW dealership.”
“Greg!” Shania hit his shoulder so hard she made his teeth knock together. “What all exactly happened at the dealership?”
Glaring hard at Kristen, Greg turned soft eyes on his wife and said, “Babe, I promise you nothing happened. I swear it to you, nothing happened. The only thing that happened is what’s happening right now. I ran into this . . . this . . .” he couldn’t fix his mouth to say the words woman or lady, so he finally said, “This female at the dealership. She made some advances that I didn’t appreciate, and that was that.”
“If you’re gonna tell her the story, you might as well tell her the whole story,” Kristen said.
Greg said, “W
hat is the whole—”
“Greg!” Shania shouted.
“I’m not dealing with this!” Greg yelled and threw a hand up at Shania and Kristen. “Save your little games for another day. Now is not the time. For the last time, where is Mother Washington?”
Kristen retook her seat and had the decency to cross her legs like a lady. “She’s asleep. She had a migraine, so I gave her a few pills.”
Greg sprinted into Mother Washington’s bedroom, but her bed was neatly made, and she was nowhere to be found. His heart pounded in his ears as he repeatedly screamed her name. He looked in the closet, then went to the bathroom, and that’s where he found her, crumpled on the floor.
“Oh God, Shania, call 911!” he yelled.
Greg dropped to his knees and picked up Mother Washington’s frail body. He checked her neck for a pulse and breathed a sigh when he felt one, even though it was faint. Kristen ran into the room with the most inauthentic look of surprise on her face that Greg had ever seen. There was no doubt in his mind that Mother was in her current condition because of something Kristen had done to her.
“What did you do to her?” Greg gritted through his teeth.
“She had a headache, so I gave her some pain relievers, that’s all,” Kristen explained in a casual tone that bordered on sounding defensive.
“Show me what you gave her.”
Kristen went into the bedroom, then returned with a brown prescription bottle. Greg snatched the bottle from her and read the label. The prescription was made out to Henry Washington, and it was 1600 mg Percocet.
Greg’s nostrils flared. “How many did you give her?”
Kristen shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe two.”
Greg didn’t believe a word coming out of her mouth. He yelled at her, “You idiot! It’s not her name on the bottle. These were her husband’s painkillers. This is way too strong for her.”
Kristen shrugged her shoulder. “Well, I didn’t know. Sorry.”
Never in his life had Greg wanted to slap a female as badly as his palm was itching to connect with Kristen’s face. How could she find her so-called mother unresponsive on the bathroom floor and the only thing she could do was shrug her shoulder and apologize? What kind of a monster was she?
