The Devil You Know

by Mary Monroe

  I set my computer aside and turned on my cell phone to check my messages. I was surprised to see nothing from Lola, but I had a feeling I’d be hearing from her again real soon. The slut was probably in a hotel room with some joker fucking his brains out. I went back to my computer and pulled up her profile. As soon as her picture appeared, bile rose in my throat. “Bitch! Slut! Cow! Whore! You won’t be grinning like a damn hyena when I get through with you!” I screeched with my jaw twitching. The sight of her face enraged me so much, I hawked a wad of spit at the monitor. I grinned when it landed right between her eyes.

  Chapter 16

  Lola

  I WOKE UP SUNDAY MORNING AT NINE A.M. I WAS SO DROWSY I wanted to go back to sleep and, I hoped, dream about Calvin. I probably would have if somebody hadn’t started pounding on my door five minutes later. I sat bolt upright. Before I could respond, the door swung open and Bertha strutted in. “Lola, you have company,” she announced, clapping her hands as she pranced in my direction. She stopped at the foot of my bed. “Get up and come downstairs and show your visitor some hospitality.”

  “Who is it?” Other than Joan, I couldn’t imagine who would come to visit me on a Sunday morning.

  “Elbert.” There was a dreamy look on Bertha’s face. She had already dressed for church in her favorite beige tweed suit, black pumps with low chunky heels, and some of her most gaudy jewelry. She had her makeup on and one of several wig-hats she wore when she didn’t feel like fussing with her own hair.

  “What is he doing here? I just had lunch with him yesterday,” I wailed.

  “Lola, you don’t have to get so upset. I wish you’d wipe that scowl off your face,” Bertha complained.

  “I can’t help it,” I defended. “I’m just . . . well, I’m just waking up and I am not in the mood to entertain company.”

  “Not even Elbert?”

  “Especially Elbert.”

  Bertha folded her arms and gave me a critical look. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, girl.”

  I rolled my eyes, and this time the scowl on my face was for Bertha. “There is nothing wrong with me.”

  “There must be. No woman in her right mind would look a gift horse like Elbert in the mouth. I’d be thrilled to pieces if a man like him wanted to see me two days in a row. Humph! I just adore him to death. He’s as sweet to me as he is to his mama,” Bertha swooned. “He looks so dapper in his blue suit today. Even though he looks like Medusa with those outlandish dreadlocks hanging off his head, he’s still a very handsome young man. Does that truck driver you think you’re in love with wear those nappy things on his head?”

  “Calvin’s hair is short and neat. It looks very becoming on him, but if he ever decides to grow dreadlocks, he’d still be very handsome too,” I said.

  “I’ll see for myself when and if you ever bring him to the house.” Bertha paused and gave me a thoughtful look. “I like what you told me about him praising you for looking out for me. I hope he and I will get along.”

  “You’ll get along with Calvin as well as you do with Elbert,” I insisted.

  “He sounds perfect, but I always thought truck drivers were loud, slovenly, alcoholic buffoons with half a dozen tattoos.” I was tempted to tell Bertha that she had just described her son, Marshall.

  “Calvin drinks occasionally and he doesn’t have any tattoos,” I declared with a proud sniff.

  “Hmmm. I can’t even picture Calvin. Do you have a photo of him?”

  “Not yet. I’m sure I’ll be bringing him to the house to meet you and everybody else real soon.” I was already working hard to lock Calvin into a more secure position in my life. It looked as if I would have to work even harder, especially since Bertha had “accepted” him as a potential mate for me. “Tell Elbert I’ll be down as soon as I get dressed.”

  When I got downstairs, he was slumped in a chair at the kitchen table eating grits and some of the beef bacon he’d given Bertha last week. When I started dating him, he promised us that we could have all the meat products we wanted for free as long as he managed the neighborhood meat market. His generosity was another reason Bertha “adored him to death.”

  “Hi, Elbert,” I muttered, shuffling into the room. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I didn’t know I was coming either. But last night I remembered Bertha had told me yesterday morning that she was almost out of beef bacon and asked me to bring her some as soon as I could,” he said, all in one breath. He paused and wiped his greasy lips with the back of his hand.

  “Well, it’s good to see you again. I really enjoyed our lunch yesterday. And by the way, you look real nice in your blue suit,” I said, offering him a tight smile. Bertha stood next to me beaming like a lighthouse.

  “You should see me in my black suit. I’ll wear it next time we go out,” he said excitedly. “If you’re not too busy today, you want to go to the park with me?”

  The park! This man couldn’t get any duller if he tried. I had something much more interesting to do than going to the park to watch a bunch of elderly people feed bread crumbs to the pigeons. I had a date with a very interesting man, and I couldn’t wait to get to him. One of the reviewers on the club website claimed he was a fantastic lover and the most charming man she had ever met. Two other club members raved about the portraits he’d painted of them.

  “Uh, I can’t go today. I already have plans to do something else,” I explained. I was beginning to sound like a broken record. Except for yesterday, the last three times Elbert asked me out, I told him I had “plans to do something else.” I dreaded the day I’d have to tell him I couldn’t see him at all anymore. That would be the day I committed myself exclusively to Calvin Ramsey.

  “Oh.” He looked as if he was going to start crying. “I told Mama you’d probably have something else to do today,” he added glumly. “I really enjoyed having lunch with you yesterday. I wish we could get together more often.”

  “Maybe we can go see a movie one day next week,” I threw in.

  “I sure hope so. It’s getting harder and harder for me to see you these days,” Elbert complained.

  “I’ve been very busy. And I’m probably going to get even busier,” I said firmly.

  “Oh well. I’ll keep trying anyway.” He hunched his shoulders and stood up. There was a weak smile on his face.

  I smiled back. “I hope you will.” The words slid out of my mouth before I could think about what I was saying. I was pleased to know that Elbert was not ready to give up on me.

  “I’ll give you a call next week.” Now there was a slightly woeful look on his face as he turned to Bertha. “You need a ride to church, Sister Bertha? Mama rode with Sister Becket this morning, so I sure would like some company. . . .”

  “Yes, I would,” she replied without hesitation. She sounded and looked just as disappointed as Elbert. “What plans do you have today, Lola? I was hoping we could finish cleaning off the back porch so we can start on the kitchen closet.”

  “I’m having lunch with a woman who used to work at the store with me. After that, we’re going to get our nails done. I haven’t seen her since she got married and moved to Reno a couple of years ago. I’m sure we’ll do something else after we leave the nail salon, so I’ll be gone quite a while.” I took a deep breath and smiled at Elbert. To make him feel even better, I threw in a wink. “I’ll talk to you later,” I told him, already backing out of the kitchen. I didn’t wait for a response. I whirled around and rushed back to my room to get ready for my date.

  Bertha liked to attend the morning service, so she and Elbert left a few minutes later. I was glad I didn’t have to look at the sad expression on his face again, or the disappointed one on Bertha’s, before I left to go meet up with my date.

  I took a quick shower and dressed as fast as I could. I wanted to be long gone before Libby and her crew returned from Denny’s, where they ate brunch almost every Sunday morning. I was in a good mood and I didn’t want her to spoil it.

>   Chapter 17

  Lola

  IT WAS EXACTLY ONE P.M. WHEN I ARRIVED AT THE HOTEL WHERE Evan McCoy had booked a suite. I had lost count of how many encounters I’d had, but there were still times when I got paranoid. I was concerned that the people who worked at the hotels I frequented would begin to suspect that I was a hooker, so I tried to look as conservative as possible. This time I wore a plain blue sleeveless blouse and a pair of black slacks. I wore stilettos or sexy sandals when Joan and I went to bars, but I wore a pair of low-heeled black pumps on my dates—the same ones I wore when I went to church or out with Elbert. With my hair pinned back and very little makeup, I appeared so prim and proper I looked more like a schoolteacher or a librarian than a sex club member.

  “My God! You look so different in person!” Evan exclaimed when I entered his suite. He closed the door, grabbed my hand, and twirled me around. Then he held my hands in his and squeezed. We stood stock-still and gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. Evan had a wife and a teenage daughter, and he had made it very clear that he was a happily married man. Like several other married club members I’d been with, he claimed wifey was great in bed but that having sex with the same person year after year was no longer exciting. I didn’t care what I had to do when I got married, I was going to keep my marriage fresh and exciting. And I hoped the man I married felt the same way, because a married woman could cheat just as easily as her husband, and for the same reasons. I shook my head to send away the negative thoughts. I wanted to give all my attention to Evan. “You are a total surprise!” he hollered, still gazing at me.

  “In a good way, I hope,” I cooed.

  “Honey, it’s better than good. You are absolutely stunning. Perfect face, body to die for. I didn’t expect you to dress . . . um . . . well, I expected a woman with a body like yours to dress a bit more provocatively.”

  I laughed. “I usually do. I own some really sexy outfits, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to wear them into a hotel. I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

  “Well, I have news for you, baby. Women as gorgeous as you are will attract attention no matter what they wear.”

  “Thanks, but I still like to look conservative. I don’t want the hotel employees to get the wrong idea about me. . . .” I let my voice trail off.

  Evan gave me a curious look as he hunched his shoulders and raked his fingers through his thick blond hair. He had a nice, trim body and a deep tan. With his shabby jeans and sleeveless shirt, he looked more like a middle-aged surfer than a well-known painter. “I get it!” he hooted, slapping the side of his head. “You don’t want to be mistaken for a working girl, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t even worry about things like that. I’m not a trick and you’re not a hooker. We are simply two consenting adults who happen to belong to a sex club, and there is nothing illegal about that. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get acquainted. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding again.

  “My God!” he exclaimed, rearing back to look at me some more. We were still standing in front of the door. “You are a beautiful woman. I can’t wait to go at it. I can see why ‘BrownSugar’ is your screen name. You definitely look sweet enough to eat.”

  I had no idea why Evan thought “HotLips” was a good screen name for him. Like some of the other white dudes I’d dated, Evan hardly had any lips at all. When he hauled off and kissed me, it felt as if I was kissing the rim of a plate, but I acted as if I’d just received the kiss of a lifetime. I swooned and gave him a knowing look. “I am good enough to eat,” I teased, speaking in the sexiest tone I could manage. I had updated my profile two weeks ago and included a new picture. I was proud of my body and liked to show it off in sexy outfits like the silver string bikini I wore when I had Joan take a new picture for me to post. “You look good enough to eat too. . . .”

  “In that case, I hope your appetite is as big as mine.”

  I looked around the room and was pleased to see two bottles of wine on a tray by the bed.

  “Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart.” Evan waved me toward the bed, but he remained standing in the same spot with his hands on his hips. “I can’t get over what a vision of loveliness you are.”

  “Thank you, Evan,” I said shyly. I cleared my throat and gave him one of my biggest smiles. I set my purse on top of the dresser, then sashayed across the floor and plopped down on the side of the bed. He had a nice body for a forty-five-year-old man. He had told me that he worked out six days a week and he took all kinds of vitamins. And, without me even asking, he had admitted that he took Viagra too. That didn’t bother me at all. I’d been with a few other men his age who also took Viagra, claiming they didn’t need it yet but that it enhanced their performance. “Have you started painting my picture yet?”

  “Oh! Your portrait!” He slapped the side of his head again and looked at me with his eyes open wide and his mouth hanging open. Then he darted to the closet and removed a large, pizza-shaped box. “I want to apologize in advance. I did an exquisite job of immortalizing you, but even the old masters—including Rembrandt and da Vinci—could never have done you justice.” He sat down next to me and gently placed the box in my lap.

  Like a child on Christmas morning, I began to open my present as fast as my hands could move. “You painted my picture already?” I was impressed and glad. Because if this date flopped I wouldn’t have to see Evan again to get my portrait.

  When I saw what was inside, I almost fainted. I abruptly pushed the box off my lap. “I . . . I can’t accept this,” I stammered. I slid it farther to the side and stood up, wringing my hands. They felt as if I’d just held them over a campfire. There was a horrified look on Evan’s face. My lips were moving, but I was having a hard time getting more words out. “Get that damn thing away from me!” I screeched.

  Chapter 18

  Lola

  I COULDN’T IMAGINE WHAT WAS GOING THROUGH POOR EVAN’S HEAD. He looked like a frightened rabbit, and I felt like one. “I’m so sorry,” I wailed, still wringing my hands. My stomach was in knots and my head was spinning. I was also sweating and shifting my weight from one foot to the other. What did I get myself into? It looked as though this was going to be the date from hell. “I shouldn’t be here!” I hollered.

  “My God! Is the portrait that bad?” he asked. He rose off the bed, rushed over to me, and put his hands on my shoulders. By now my entire body was trembling.

  “No, it’s not bad,” I managed, shaking my head and blinking so hard my eyes ached.

  “Then I must say that I am more than a little bewildered.”

  “I should leave,” I choked, already moving toward the dresser to get my purse.

  “What?” Evan hollered, sprinting over to me. “What the hell for? Is it because you think the portrait is too unflattering?”

  “You did a good job. I’m glad you put me on a beach. And the setting sun in the background looks so serene.” I dropped my head, and when I looked back up at Evan, I had tears in my eyes. I blinked hard to hold them back. “It’s the dress you painted on me. It’s yellow,” I said hoarsely. Calvin was the only other man I’d told about my irrational fear of yellow clothing. He’d been so sympathetic and understanding, I knew I could tell him anything. There were so many other things I planned to share with him. One was that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. Another one that had recently begun to haunt me was my fear that I’d develop some serious health problems. My parents had died fairly young, and because I had no contact with any other blood relatives, I didn’t know if bad health was in my DNA. I tried not to think about such things too often, and I certainly didn’t like to talk about them with anybody except Joan and Calvin. But Evan was not going to let up.

  “Then what the hell is the problem?”

  “I never wear anything yellow,” I explained.

  “Huh? Well excuse me, but I don’t know you well enough to know the type of cl
othing you find acceptable. But what’s so offensive about a yellow sundress? With your beautiful bronze skin tone, it looks marvelous on you.”

  I held my breath for a few moments. And then I said the words that made me cringe. “I have this premonition that if I wear something yellow, I’ll die in it.”

  Evan looked at me as if I was speaking in tongues. “And how did you come up with such an ominous conclusion?” he asked with both eyebrows raised.

  “My mother was laid to rest in a yellow dress,” I said stiffly. “The same shade as the dress you painted.”

  “I see.” He blew out some air and gave me a pitiful look. “And seeing yourself in one brought back a painful memory. I’m sorry. If you don’t mind telling me, what makes you think you’ll die if you wear yellow?”

  “There was a picture taken of my mother at her funeral. I thought it looked like me lying in that coffin. Other people thought the same thing.”

  “Jeez. I don’t—”

  I held up my hand and interrupted Evan. “Let me finish.” I sucked in some air first. “I didn’t think much about it for a while, but a few years later, a friend of mine took a picture of me lying on her bed. We were teenagers and always acting crazy. She snapped the picture just as I closed my eyes. I had on a yellow blouse that day. As soon as I saw that picture I recalled the one of my mother in her coffin in that yellow dress. From that day on, I was convinced that if I ever wore yellow again, I would die.”

  “So you’re superstitious, eh? Well, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’m terrified of vampires, even though I know they don’t exist. When I was a kid, I saw one vampire movie too many. Before I knew it, I was so terrified of those fanged creatures, I couldn’t even stand to look at a picture of one. The phobia intensified as I got older. In college, I secretly slept in a necklace made out of garlic.”