Lady Elect

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  Arykah couldn’t see Monique shrug her shoulders. “I don’t know. Is there anyone else you’d like to invite?”

  Arykah thought about Monique’s question. “You mean like women from the church?”

  “Well, a handful of ladies have warmed up to you, right?”

  “Just a few, but I don’t feel comfortable bringing anyone from the church into my personal world. You know I likes ta drop it like it’s hot, and I don’t want, nor do I need, any witnesses.”

  Monique laughed. “I know that’s right.”

  Suddenly, Arykah had an epiphany. “You know what, Monique? Inviting a few of the women from the church may not be such a bad idea after all. But not for the fat girl party. I’d rather keep that part of my life separate.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Yesterday, after church, I told Chelsea that I’d be in touch with her to be a part of something I wanted to do. Ever since Lance made me realize that it was partly my own fault that the women shunned me, I decided to do something about it. How do you feel about postponing the fat girl party until Amaryllis and Bridgette can come?”

  “That’s fine. What else do you have in mind?” Monique asked again.

  “I thought it would be nice if I hosted a spa day and invited Chelsea, Gladys, and Darlita.”

  “Who is Darlita?” Monique asked.

  “You know Darlita. She’s the woman who came to me for counsel. The woman whose husband had been cheating and wouldn’t stop.”

  “Oh yeah,” Monique said. “How is she doing?”

  “Darlita is doing great since she left that fool. I know she’s having a hard time with the separation, but she knows it was for the best. I’m sure she can use a spa day. So can Gladys, because she has an unexpected grandbaby on the way. There’s gonna be a lot of changes in her household. I want to invite Chelsea simply because she’s the only woman who apologized for treating me so cold.”

  “I’m not sold on Chelsea,” Monique stated.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I mean, I think it’s all good that she apologized for allowing the mothers to influence her as far as you are concerned. But I have to wonder if she would have apologized if you hadn’t given her the hookup about the boots. She just seems kinda suspect to me.”

  “Well, I thought about that too,” Arykah admitted. “When Chelsea reached out to hug me, I almost took a step back because I didn’t know what she was doing. But I believe her apology was genuine.”

  Monique didn’t comment. As the first lady of the church, Arykah had to be forgiving and openhearted. Monique would just have to watch Chelsea closely. She seemed like an opportunist. A coattail rider. Someone who lived to benefit from other people’s accomplishments.

  “A spa day sounds great, Arykah. I know the ladies would love it.”

  “I think so too. But I want to take it a step further. I want to give Chelsea, Darlita, and Gladys a gift.”

  “Arykah, don’t overdo it. You’re trying too hard. You shouldn’t try to buy friendship. If the women like you, then they like you. If they don’t, then they don’t. Treating them to a spa is more than generous.”

  “I know, but I still wanna get them each a gift.”

  Monique rolled her eyes at no one in particular as she exited the expressway at Pershing Road. “Just don’t spend too much money.”

  Arykah had already decided what gifts she wanted to buy the ladies. And she knew Monique would have a stroke when she told her. Arykah took a deep breath, then rushed the words, “I’m buying each of the ladies a pair of Christian Louboutins.”

  Monique slammed on the brakes and veered from the left lane she was in. She came within an inch of crashing into the car ahead of her that had stopped at a red light.

  After a long half hour of listening to Monique moan and gripe about her spending too much money on women that she probably couldn’t trust, Arykah ended the conversation by telling Monique that she really needed to focus on finding Italian drapes.

  “I know you’re rushing me off the phone, Arykah. But we’re not done talking about the Christian Louboutins.”

  “You made your point, Monique, and I’ll take into consideration everything you said.”

  Monique didn’t believe her. She knew Arykah was going to do what she wanted.

  “Uh-huh. Okay. I’ll give you a call later on.”

  Arykah was glad that conversation was over. Now she could focus on the matter at hand, which was to earn her commission check. She settled back against the pillows and browsed the Internet. When she double clicked on www.italiandrapery.com, her cellular telephone rang again. She hoped it wasn’t Monique calling back to discuss the Christian Louboutins.

  Arykah didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, but she answered anyway.

  “Arykah speaking.”

  “Howa? Ees thee Howa house?” a man asked.

  Arykah frowned. She pulled the telephone away from her ear and glanced at the caller ID again. The number was not a familiar one. She brought the telephone back to her ear.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ah call fra dri cleena. Ees thee Howa house?”

  “Oh, the dry cleaners. Yes, this is the Howard home. What can I do for you?”

  “Ees Meester Howa theyah. I talk to ’em?”

  Lance told Arykah that he was going to take a couple of his suits to the dry cleaners on his way to the church that morning. Arykah wondered if there was a problem. “Mr. Howard isn’t home at the moment. This is Mrs. Howard. Is there a problem with the suits he brought in?”

  “He lef sumthin’ in jakit.”

  That wasn’t the first time the dry cleaners had called to tell Lance that he’d forgotten items in his suit jacket pockets. Two weeks ago, Lance had misplaced an expensive Faber-Castell fountain pen. Arykah hoped the dry cleaners was calling to say that they’ve found it.

  “Oh, I see,” Arykah said. “Did you find a fountain pen?”

  There was a pause. “Uh, no. No inka pen. In pockit I see pepamin, thwendy dolla, do condom, and do movie dikkit.”

  Arykah’s back came away from the pillows like a dead woman rising in a casket. She was as stiff as a board. In fact, she stopped breathing. The clocks stopped. The refrigerator stopped humming. Everything stopped. What the heck did he just say?

  “Hollow? Hollow?” The man thought Arykah had ended the call.

  Arykah shook her head vigorously to clear out her brain. She needed to erase the words the man said to make room for new words. Correct words. Words that made sense. Any words besides the words he had spoken to her. Words that wouldn’t get Lance killed. She needed clarity. “Um, yes, I’m here. What did you say was in the jacket?”

  “Uh, I fine thwendy dolla, do movie dikkit, pepamin, and do condom.”

  He said it again. Arykah hoped the reason the man was talking crazy was because he couldn’t speak good English. There was no way on God’s green earth the man was saying what she thought he was saying. “Are you saying ‘two condoms’?”

  “Ye, ma’am. Do condom, thwendy dolla, pepa—”

  “Forget the money and peppermint,” Arykah snapped. “I really need to understand what you’re saying to me.” Arykah spoke very slowly. “You said you found two condoms in my husband’s suit jacket pocket? Lance Howell’s suit jacket?” By putting emphasis on her husband’s name, Arykah prayed the man would realize that he had called the wrong number.

  “Ye. Also, thwendy dolla—”

  Arykah screamed, “Forget the money! I don’t wanna hear nothing about money!” Arykah massaged her temple with her free hand. It was a mistake. It had to be. She thought about something. “Wait a minute, mister. There are two condoms, right?”

  “Ye. Do condom, thwendy dolla, pepamin, and do movie dikkit.”

  “I don’t care about anything else but the condoms. Don’t condoms come three to a pack?”

  “Wha u seh?”

  Arykah asked the question in general. It was a thought that she h
ad uttered out loud. She didn’t expect for the man to respond.

  Condoms are purchased three in a pack. She and Lance had never used any form of birth control, yet a condom was allegedly missing from his suit jacket. And if a condom was missing, it must’ve been used. And what was up with the movie tickets? She and Lance hadn’t gone to see a movie. They preferred to watch DVDs at home.

  Arykah had to calm herself down. Obviously the man had made a terrible mistake.

  There was absolutely no chance that Lance had been untrue to her. But when Arykah thought about it, he was surrounded by beautiful women every Tuesday in Bible class and every Sunday at morning worship. Skinny chicks. Horny chicks. Chicks who loved to grin in his face. Chicks with oversized silicone injected boobs. Chicks that’ll do just about anything to land themselves a pastor. And there was also the possibility of Lance encountering a woman in the office at the construction company.

  But why would Lance stray? Arykah jumped his bones every chance she got. She made sure that he never had the energy to go outside of their marriage. She took care of business at home. Lance was never left unsatisfied, unfulfilled, or wanting more. She wore him out often. Arykah was on top of her game as far as Lance was concerned. In the kitchen she may not be able to boil an egg, but in the bedroom, Arykah’s performance was Oscar worthy.

  “Excuse me, mister, but I’m sure you called the wrong number.”

  “Wrong nubba? Thees nubba Howa toll me.”

  Arykah wondered why Lance gave the dry cleaners her cellular number. Two times before, when the dry cleaners called to inform Lance of items left behind in his suit jacket pocket, they had called the home number. Arykah had never taken their clothes to the dry cleaners. That was a chore for Lance. Common sense told Arykah that if anything, Lance would’ve left his own cellular number as an alternate source of contact, not hers.

  “What address do you have for Lance Howell?” Arykah asked.

  The address the dry cleaners had on file was the address where she and Lance resided.

  That didn’t strike Arykah as being odd. Of course they’d have the correct address. Lance was a weekly customer. What struck Arykah as being odd was the dry cleaners called her cellular number assuming they were calling Lance’s home number.

  “I’m coming to get the items you found in my husband’s jacket.”

  “No. I gee only to Howa. Hees jakit. He get items.”

  To heck with what he was talking about. “Yeah, okay,” was all Arykah said and disconnected the call.

  Twelve minutes later Arykah stood at the counter at the dry cleaners.

  “Hollow. Wehcum,” an oriental man greeted her. “Ah hep you?”

  Arykah recognized his voice. He was the man she had spoken with on the telephone.

  “I’m here for the items my husband left in his suit jacket pocket. His name is Lance Howell. I’m his wife. We spoke on the phone. I wanna see the jacket and the items in the jacket.” Arykah sized the man up. He looked thin and frail. If he didn’t cooperate, she was prepared to get physical. But no matter what, she wasn’t leaving the dry cleaners without what she came for.

  “Ah toe u on fone. Ah gee item only to Howa. Where Howa?”

  Arykah was on a mission. She needed answers, and she needed them like yesterday.

  She refused to waste another second being nice. “Look, fool. I didn’t come here to go back and forth with you about this. Give me my husband’s suit jacket now before I jump over this counter. And if I have to jump over the counter, I’m jumping on you.” Arykah leaned her upper torso over the counter and glared into the man’s eyes and spaced her words apart very slowly. “Give ... me ... the ... jacket ... and ... everything ... in ... it ... now!”

  “Yom, yom, com, som, chom,” the man quickly said to someone over his shoulder.

  He chose his battles, and a battle with Arykah he didn’t want to fight. Seconds later, an oriental lady appeared at the counter with a suit jacket. As soon as Arykah saw the jacket, she knew it didn’t belong to Lance.

  The woman laid the jacket on top of the counter and stepped backward. The man followed suit and stepped backward as well. Arykah picked up the oversized tweed jacket and examined it. It reeked of cigarette smoke. Lance didn’t smoke. It was two sizes too small for Lance’s frame. And furthermore, all of Lance’s suits were tailor-made. The jacket Arykah held in her hand was cheap and looked as though it may have been bought off the rack.

  Already satisfied that the jacket didn’t belong to her husband, curiosity killed the cat.

  Arykah wanted to see the items the man had called about. She searched the interior jacket first and pulled out a single piece of Brach’s peppermint candy. She reached in the interior pocket again and pulled out a folded twenty-dollar bill. In the left lower pocket, Arykah found two single Trojan’s brand lubricated condoms.

  “Are you kidding me?” Arykah chuckled the words when she saw that the condoms were small in size. The size of the condoms was further proof the jacket didn’t belong to Lance.

  When Arykah chuckled, the woman spoke to the man. “Tha, ju, han, mo, kas.”

  “Neeyo, fas, mum, lom, chedo,” he replied.

  For all Arykah knew, they could be discussing her insanity for laughing at condoms.

  From the right lower pocket, Arykah pulled out two movie stubs redeemed over four months ago. She laid the items on the counter and, without saying a word, left the dry cleaners with the jacket in her hand.

  Arykah got behind the wheel of her car and pulled her cellular phone from her purse.

  She dialed Lance’s cellular number.

  “Hi, baby,” Lance answered on the first ring.

  Arykah forced a smile. She wanted her voice to sound happy. “Hello, honey. I was on my way to get me a bite to eat when I realized that you didn’t have breakfast before you left the house this morning. So, how about I swing by the church and pick you up? Can you join me for brunch?”

  “Oh, wow, baby. I’d love to, but I’m not at the church. I’m at a construction site. As soon as I left the dry cleaners this morning, I got paged that a beam had fallen forty feet and one of my workers may have been injured. Sorry, I can’t have brunch with you.”

  “Aw, it’s okay. How is your employee?”

  “He’s fine,” Lance said. “The beam missed him, but he’s pretty shaken up though.”

  “Thank God he’ll be okay. Hey, babe, did you tell Mother Gussie that you weren’t coming to the church today?”

  “Yes. I always let her know when my plans change so that she won’t be expecting me.”

  “Did you happen to mention that you had stopped by the dry cleaners?”

  “Yes. I told Mother Gussie that I had stopped by the dry cleaners when I got paged. I told her that I was going to the construction site straight from there.”

  Bingo. That’s all the information that Arykah needed to hear. “Okay, babe, I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll see you at home this evening.” She disconnected the call with Lance.

  Arykah sat in her car. She was fit to be tied. Mother Gussie had set the whole thing up. Evidently she didn’t take Arykah’s last threat seriously. It was only a week ago when Arykah had nonverbally warned Mother Gussie to back off. But Arykah wasn’t going to be bothered with words, spoken or unspoken, again.

  She started her car and drove to Freedom Temple. Her marriage was not to be played with. Arykah could show Mother Gussie how serious she was better than she could tell her.

  Mother Gussie was talking on the telephone when Arykah snatched it out of her hand and threw the receiver across the desk. She didn’t know who Mother Gussie was talking to, but, at that moment, Arykah didn’t give a darn.

  Mother Gussie was startled. “What in the world?”

  Arykah walked around the desk with the tweed suit jacket in her hand. Mother Gussie scooted backward in her chair. Arykah came and stood in front of her. They were so close that the tips of their shoes kissed.

  Arykah leaned forward and t
ouched Mother Gussie’s nose with her own. “You think I’m playing with you?”

  Mother Gussie scooted backward again. She had started to sweat. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Shut up!” Arykah yelled. Her eyes were wide and blazing.

  Mother Gussie flinched at Arykah’s outburst.

  Arykah held up the suit jacket. “You think this was funny? You wanna play games? Well, let me tell you something.” Arykah placed the jacket against Mother Gussie’s mouth and applied pressure. The action had pushed Mother Gussie’s head back three inches. “When you play with a bulldog, you get bit in the face,” Arykah warned. “I will shove this jacket in your mouth and dry your throat with it.”

  Arykah threw the jacket on Mother Gussie’s desk and stood upright. She looked down at Mother Gussie. “Don’t mess with my marriage. That’s what you ain’t gonna do.” Arykah turned on her heels and walked ten feet away from Mother Gussie, then stopped and turned back around. “Please, Mother Gussie. I’m begging you. I’m begging you to not make the mistake of thinking that I’m not at all serious. I suggest that you and your friend find another hobby.”

  Arykah walked away and left the church. Mother Gussie held her breath. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She didn’t even fart. She waited until she heard the church door slam before she exhaled. Her chair felt warm. Mother Gussie stood and looked down at her seat. It was wet. Her bladder had betrayed her.

  “You wait ’til I see that hussy,” Myrtle said when Arykah shared the latest tactic that the mothers tried to pull off.

  “Pouring the red ink in your chair was wrong but trying to destroy your marriage is a whole new ball game,” Monique said.

  “I was so mad that I really wanted to do bodily harm to Mother Gussie,” Arykah added to the conversation. She, Monique, and Myrtle were on a three-way call. When Arykah returned home from the church, she had called Monique at the radio station and Myrtle’s home number.