To Love & Betray

by Shelly Ellis

  “Don’t count on it!” he shouted over his shoulder before slamming the front door behind him.

  * * *

  A little after midnight, Dante heard a knock at his front door. He raised his head dazedly from the leather couch where he had collapsed. His glass of Hennessy and the open bottle still sat on the coffee table. The television was still on, showing hard-core porn and filling the living room with moans and slapping sounds.

  Dante wiped the drool from the side of his face and the corner of his mouth and frowned. The last he remembered he had been reaching for his drink as he grabbed his remote to change the channel. He didn’t recall lying down or falling asleep. It was unnerving how often he was having these blackout periods nowadays, but at least it was in a luxe condo in Virginia rather than a run-down house in the ghetto—or at least that’s what he told himself.

  The person at his front door knocked again, yanking him from his muddled thoughts. He groggily pushed himself to his feet and staggered across the living room, closing his robe and muttering to himself as he went.

  “Who the fuck is it?” he barked before peering through his peephole.

  When he saw who was standing on his welcome mat, his mouth fell open in shock.

  “Who the fuck does it look like?” she answered with a laugh as he quickly undid the lock and swung his front door open.

  “Charisse?” Dante murmured, staring at his ex-lover.

  “Dante,” she said with a wink and a smile before pushing past him into his condo. He watched in bewilderment as she sauntered into his living room as if she had been invited, like she hadn’t just shown up at his place in 12:13 in the morning after they hadn’t spoken to each other in more than a year.

  His gaze followed her as she removed her pashmina shawl and tossed it onto the couch where he had been sleeping only seconds ago. Her four-inch stilettoes left indentations in his rug.

  His eyes traced the length of her long, graceful legs, which were clad in thigh-highs. At the sight of those black lace bands skimming only an inch below the hem of her silk shirtdress, Dante involuntarily licked his lips.

  In the old days, he had burned hot for Charisse. She had always been easy on the eyes, and the knowledge that fucking her was the same as fucking over her then-husband, Evan, had been the ultimate aphrodisiac for him. But her alcoholism and sloppy behavior had been a definite turnoff, one that had gotten harder to ignore over time.

  Fortunately, it looked like she was no longer hitting the bottle. Unfortunately for him, that meant he was starting to have lustful thoughts about her again, even though he knew he should be wary of this woman. She wasn’t as scheming or as vengeful as he was—but she was damn close!

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked with a smirk, gesturing to the television screen where one buxom blonde was currently going down on another.

  He slammed his front door closed. “Why are you here, Charisse?”

  “No real reason. I arrived back in town a few weeks ago and just stopped by to say hi.” She strolled around his living room, wrinkling her nose at his cluttered coffee table and the general disarray around his condo. “Ever thought of cleaning this place?”

  “Oh, we’re going to pretend like this is a social call?” He walked out of the entryway hall and joined her in the living room. “I’m surprised you would pay me a visit, considering the last time I saw you, I had you kicked out of my office.”

  “Well, I’ve decided to let bygones be bygones—considering I heard that you were fired from the same law offices you had me kicked me out of. Besides, I’m not here to talk about the past, Dante. I’m here to congratulate you! You always had it out for the Murdochs, and you finally managed to land a big win with this trumped-up attempted murder charge against Evan. I’m impressed!”

  “It isn’t a ‘trumped-up attempted murder charge,’” he lied. “Evan tried to kill me. I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Bullshit,” she said with a laugh, irritating him even more. “You and I both know that isn’t true. But who cares! That’s not why I’m here.”

  “So why are you here? You still haven’t given me a straight answer! We’re not girlfriends who meet up for dinner and drinks.”

  “I already told you! I’m here,” she said with a grin as she began to undo the buttons of her shirtdress, “to congratulate you.”

  Watching her slowly undress to the sound track of groans and orgasmic screams from his television, Dante began to harden.

  “Why would you congratulate me?”

  His throat went dry when she shrugged out of her dress, letting it slide over her hips and pool at her feet. She walked toward him topless, wearing only a thong, her thigh-highs, and heels. His eyes drifted down to her perky pale breasts and pert pink nipples before snapping back to her face.

  “Because I hate the Murdochs just as much as you do.” She grabbed his chin and leaned forward to give a long, warm lick on the side of his cheek, then she nibbled his earlobe. “And I hate Evan even more. I begged him to take me back. Instead, he chose to marry that tacky fat bitch, Leila. So to hell with Evan! I don’t care if he rots in prison.”

  “You don’t fool me, Charisse,” he said, trying his best to mask his growing desire for her, but that was a challenge since all she had to do was look down to see his arousal. He may not have been up to listening to what she had to say, but his dick was paying full attention. “If you begged him to take you back, that means you still have feelings for that motherfucka. You think you can play me, but you can’t, honey. This shit is all an act.”

  She grabbed his hand and tugged it downward, making him frown in confusion and almost yank his hand back. She eased his hand past the waistband of her thong and forced his fingers between her legs.

  “Does this feel like an act?” she whispered, staring into his eyes.

  No, it does not, he thought, feeling her slick wetness against her fingertips. Despite his initial hesitance, he began to move his fingers and slowly stroke her, making her twist her hips, making her smile widen as she licked her lips.

  “Fuck me, Dante. Do it now,” she groaned, and he couldn’t help but oblige her.

  He roughly shoved her up against the living room wall and ripped her flimsy lace thong right off of her. He then opened his robe and tugged down his sweats and boxer briefs.

  “Just like old times,” she gushed before he stood between her legs and hoisted her upward. She wrapped her legs around his waist only seconds before he plunged inside her.

  She reached out for his entertainment center to brace herself for each thrust, sending a series of CDs and DVDs clattering to the floor.

  Soon, their moans and yells rivaled those on the television.

  Chapter 15

  Paulette

  “Honey . . . Honey . . . look at Mommy! Look at Mommy making funny faces!” Paulette chirped to her son in a high squeaky voice but he had absolutely no interest in what Paulette was doing. Little Nate seemed perfectly content to scream at the top of his lungs, making his little brown face go beet red while tears streamed down his cheeks and chin.

  Paulette glanced anxiously at the people in the deli line standing in front and behind her. They all had looks on their faces that conveyed the same message: “Will you shut that kid up?”

  “He’s teething,” she said with a forced smile to the older woman standing behind her.

  “Sounds like it,” the woman muttered, staring at Little Nate, who was still writhing and yelling in his baby carrier perched in Paulette’s shopping cart.

  Paulette handed Nate his teething ring, but he shoved it away like it was a funny-smelling canapé at a dinner party. She didn’t blame him; the teething ring didn’t seem to help much. She glanced down at the number ticket she held, then at the digital display overhead.

  “Seventeen,” she whispered.

  She only had one more number before her order was called. But then Little Nate released another scream, hitting an octave she didn’t know was possible for su
ch a little person.

  “Okay, maybe Daddy doesn’t need roast beef for dinner after all,” she mumbled before tossing the number ticket into the small trash can at her feet. She then turned away from the counter, excusing herself as she went. She headed straight to the front of the store to get into one of the checkout lines. With luck, she could be out of here in the next fifteen minutes.

  It seemed that all her outings turned into this nowadays—her dragging Nate along and him inevitably having a meltdown. She refused to admit it aloud, but she was actually starting to miss the days when Reina used to babysit him and Paulette could take a few coveted hours for alone time. She’d go to the gym and work out, or get her hair and nails done, or have a lunch date with her sister-in-law, Leila, or another one of her friends. Now she had no time to do that. She and Little Nate had been attached at the hip every hour of every day for the past three and half months.

  She had tried to find a babysitter or nanny who could help her occasionally, but she and Antonio had been unable to agree on anyone. Well, that wasn’t true. She had found a few she liked, but Antonio had shot down every single candidate.

  “She’s too old,” he had said about sixty-eight-year-old woman who had been taking care of babies for more than forty years and had been recommended by Leila. “She’ll probably slip on some applesauce, fall, and break a hip. Or she’ll throw out her back picking up Nate and expect us to pay her hospital bills.”

  Then there was the woman they interviewed who loved children and had been a teacher before emigrating from Costa Rica.

  “I could barely understand what she was saying,” he’d told Paulette that night in their bedroom. “Nate would be around her all the time, baby! He’s just learning to talk. What if he picked up her thick Spanish accent?”

  Then there was the time she had showed Antonio a website listing of a guy she thought was a good candidate.

  “There is no way in hell I’m gonna let another grown-ass man take care of my son!” he’d cried in outrage. “What dude would want to be a damn nanny anyway?”

  She suspected that unless it was his mother, Antonio would never approve of anyone watching Nathan, but Paulette was growing tired of this. She loved her son, but even perfect moms needed a break occasionally.

  Paulette finally reached the front of the grocery store, only to find all the lines had at least four people waiting in them. She grumbled and took one toward the entrance. Meanwhile, Little Nate continued to wail, and she quickly removed him from the cart’s front seat and held him against her chest, trying her best to quiet him, to comfort him.

  “It’s okay, honey. Mommy is almost done. Then we’ll go home and we can both go down for a nap,” she said with a loud breath that ruffled her bangs.

  “Ain’t having a good day, is he?” someone asked from behind her.

  Paulette turned to find a smiling petite woman with graying dreads peering up at her. Her dark skin shone under the grocery store track lighting. Her bright smile was instantly calming.

  “He’s not having a good day, so I guess you ain’t having a good day, either,” the woman said with a laugh.

  Paulette slowly shook her head. The woman seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her. “No, not really.”

  “What’s his name?” the woman inquired.

  “Nathan . . . but his daddy and I call him Nate.”

  The woman nodded and gazed at Paulette’s baby. “So why are you so unhappy, Nate?”

  “Well, he’s getting a new pair of teeth, and he’s in complete agony. I’ve tried everything to make him feel better—teething rings, teething biscuits, cold wash cloths, and Orajel—but nothing’s worked!”

  “Is that so?” The woman nodded thoughtfully and gestured for Paulette to follow her. “I think I can help you. Come on over here.”

  Paulette frowned, glancing at her full cart and the line in front of her.

  “Just leave it there, honey. That lady at the counter has about four hundred things she’s buying.” She motioned to the crowded conveyor belt. “And I bet she has coupons to ring up! Y’all ain’t going anywhere anytime soon! Besides, we’ll be fast.”

  Paulette hesitated for only a few more seconds before relenting. If this woman could offer Little Nate something that could finally give him relief from his pain, she was all ears.

  “Okay,” she said, reaching into her cart to remove her diaper bag. She shifted Nate so that she could toss the bag’s strap over her shoulder. “As long as we’ll be quick.”

  She followed the older woman down two aisles and watched as she scanned the store shelves, squinting as if she was looking for something.

  “There it is!” she exclaimed, removing a small brown bottle from one of the lower shelves. She held it to Paulette.

  “It’s an old recipe for toothache. Rub a little on a piece of cloth and let him suck on it.”

  “You want him to suck on witch hazel?” Paulette stared doubtfully at the bottle. “Is it . . . Is it safe, though?”

  The older woman laughed. “They’ve been using it for hundreds of years and ain’t no child’s died of it yet! Just try a little bit. Here . . . let me show you.” She then reached inside her purse and removed a white handkerchief. She broke the protective seal on the bottle and opened the lid before pouring a little bit on the white cloth. She held it out to Paulette.

  “Wrap it around your finger, then let your boy gnaw on it for a little bit. It shouldn’t take long to work.”

  “It’s worth a try, I guess,” Paulette whispered.

  She did want Little Nate to feel better. She did as the woman said. It wasn’t hard to get her knuckle into Nate’s gaping mouth since he was still wailing. He made a face at first when he tasted the witch hazel but after a minute, he clamped down on her index finger and started to gnaw it like one of his favorite snacks. His cries finally tapered off, then stopped entirely.

  “Oh, my God!” she shouted in amazement, almost wanting to break into tears herself—in relief. “It worked! I can’t believe it worked!”

  “I told you it would,” the woman said with a smile. She reached up and gently patted Nate’s back. “I used it when my boys were babies . . . when they were teething. I used it with all three of them. Well . . .” Her smile disappeared as she suddenly grew somber. “I guess I’ve only got two boys now. One of them died not too long ago.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that!” Paulette cried, grimacing at the woman’s admission.

  And she wasn’t just saying that to be polite. It was horrible to find out that someone who had been so kind to her and Nate had lost one of her children. Worse, it had happened recently. Paulette couldn’t imagine ever losing Nate!

  The woman nodded. “Thank you for saying so. My baby boy’s gone home to live with Jesus now.” She took a deep breath, making her shoulders rise then fall. “Well, anyway, I’m glad I could help. You should probably get back in line now if you don’t wanna lose your spot.”

  Paulette glanced again at Nate. He was still gnawing on her finger with vigor, making drool ooze down her hand. “I can’t thank you enough for this, Ms. . . . Ms. . . .”

  “Claudia Rhodes. But you can call me Miss Claudia . . . and no thanks needed, honey!” She reached out again and caressed Nate’s dark, curly head. “I just hate to see babies in pain! I’m glad to see him feeling better! I told you. He brings back memories of my boys when they were babies.” She stared tenderly at Nate. “I babysit my grandkids sometimes, but I miss when they were like this. It’s nothing like holding a sweet little one.”

  “You babysit your grandkids? Do you babysit other children, too?”

  The woman paused and lowered her hand from Nate. “Why, yes . . . sometimes. I watch my neighbors’ kids when they ask me to. I don’t mind. I’m retired. I’ve got plenty of time on my hands,” she said with a chuckle.

  Paulette hesitated before she asked her next question. She knew how picky Antonio was when it came to finding someone to take care of Nate
, but Miss Claudia seemed like a good candidate. It wasn’t just the fact that she had helped Paulette with Nate’s teething pain or revealed that she babysat children, but Paulette detected a warmth from this woman that couldn’t be faked. She seemed genuinely caring.

  “I’m . . . I’ve been looking for a nanny for Little Nate,” she began. “I don’t know what your rates are or if you’d be willing to do it. It would require you to come to our house. I wouldn’t need it done all the time, but—”

  “Like taking care of this one would be a chore! Shoot!” She waved her hands dismissively. “I told you I loved babies. I’d be happy to do it!”

  “I would have to check with my husband first,” Paulette said quickly. “But could I get your name and number? I’ll contact you if he’s okay with it. I’ll do it as soon as I can.”

  Miss Claudia nodded. “Of course, honey!”

  * * *

  Later that night, after she had put Nate to sleep in his crib and Antonio was sitting on the edge of their king-size bed watching Sports Center on the flat-screen, Paulette decided to broach the topic of hiring Miss Claudia.

  She knew she had to be careful in her approach. If Antonio had no problem turning down women with résumés and references, he might look at her like she was insane if she suggested a woman who had neither of those things babysit their child. This would require some tact, maybe even stealth.

  “So how was your day, baby?” she asked as she strolled from the bathroom into their bedroom.

  “Fine,” he answered distractedly, flipping to another sports channel when a commercial appeared on screen.

  “That’s it? Just fine?” She removed some of their decorative silk pillows and tossed them onto a nearby window seat. She climbed onto the bed and knelt behind him. “No more to tell than that?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty much. A client wanted to change one of the spec stats on me and I had to bring in one of the higher-ups for a conference call. It was a pain in ass I didn’t need today.”

  “Oh, poor baby! I’m sorry it stressed you out,” she cooed as she began to knead his shoulders and massage his back the way she knew he liked.