by B. M. Hardin
I hadn’t said much to Dakota and as much as I wanted to stab him, I knew that we needed him alive for the other part of our plan.
Every little detail had been discussed, and our big plan was to have Chanel killed and have Dakota take the fall for it. And since neither of them knew that we knew about the baby or the affair, we had plenty to work with.
In the gift bag that I’d given my brother, along with the birthday present that I’d picked up for one of my nieces, there were detailed instructions, and Dakota’s anniversary watch that I’d found. It needed to be left at the scene.
Jerome knew that he had to be as far away from the scene as possible. Being that he was her husband, he would automatically be glanced at as a suspect, initially, so we had to be careful. We only spoke on the burner phones, and the day before the plan was set to take place, he was going to get rid of them. We had never been seen together, at least not talking, other than the day that he’d pulled me over but he’d never logged the stop. Though it was a close connection, being that I was best friends with one twin and he was the husband of the other, there would be nothing placing us together or nothing that would make it look as though we’d worked together on the crime. Being that we both had gone through our spouse’s phones, the angle was that Dakota wanted Chanel to get rid of the baby, and since she was refusing, per the text messages, it’s going to be assumed that he had her killed.
It wouldn’t look like Jerome and I were involved at all. He would be at work and I was to be out in public, shopping at least an hour before everything was set to take place.
As bad as it all was, I had a feeling that we were going to get away with it. I was waiting for my conscious to kick in. But it hadn’t.
Every time Dakota walked out of the room to talk on the phone, every time he came home late, every time that he looked me in my eyes and told me that he loved me, it just made things worse. It made me want to get rid of him, and her even more.
Turning up the music even louder, I headed to my weekly lunch with Chevey. I’d been acting normal with her, so that she wouldn’t suspect anything. But secretly, I didn’t want to be around her. I didn’t want to talk to her or be near her. I found myself constantly comparing myself to her. I was always looking to see what my husband wanted from her. It killed me to know that Dakota felt something for her. I was jealous of her and she didn’t even know it.
“Kenny asked me to move in with him.”
“Really? It must be getting serious huh?” I pretended to be interested.
“Yeah. I think so.”
I looked at the way that she smiled.
She and Chanel smiled just the same. They were both the same exact color as honey. Both short and shapely. And they both always wore their hair cut short. Hardly anyone could tell them apart, but I could. They were identical, but to me, something was different about the shape of Chevey’s eyes. And then there was something about Chanel’s ears, that had always helped me to tell them apart. They weren’t ugly women, but they weren’t prettier than me.
I was a little on the petite side. Someone had stolen my ass a long time ago, and had never given it back, and my titties were small and saggy like two wet, brown paper bags, but I was gorgeous. I always had been. And not just because I was light-skinned either. I had a beautiful smile, bold, dramatic brown eyes, and high cheekbones. My beauty was the only things that my drunk for a Mama had given me.
So, what was it about her?
What was it that could make my husband fall out of love with me and secretly be head over heels for her?
I mean, she did have an amazing personality. And she was a little on the charming side, but wasn’t I?
“Yaya? Yaya? Are you listening?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I was thinking about something.”
The waiter arrived with our food and after we said grace, Chevey looked at me.
“Have I ever told you thank you?”
“For what?” I questioned her.
“For everything. You’ve always been a real friend to me. You’ve always been there for me. You’re one of the most stable people in my life, and if I didn’t have you, I don’t know where I would be. I talk about you all the time to Kenny. Our friendship means the world to me.”
Aww…someone pass me a damn tissue…NOT!
She smiled genuinely, and I knew that in her own little way, she meant those words. But they were just words to me. I felt nothing. If she really meant those things, she would have found a way to tell me the truth. She would have found a way to tell me what was going on behind my back.
“Aww, and you know I feel the same about you. Now, stop your whining and let’s eat,” I joked to change the subject. She laughed and agreed.
After we finished our food, and headed in different directions to our cars, I knew in my heart that this was our last lunch. After Chanel was killed, and after Dakota was blamed for her murder, I wanted to leave everything, and everybody behind that reminded me of this pain that I felt; and that included Chevey.
I would never be able to forget what I heard that day. I would never be able to look at her the same. And though she wasn’t the cause of their actions…in a way, she was still the cause to me.
She blew her horn as she drove by and I waved at her. I stared at her car until it was out of sight.
Goodbye, Chevey Marie.
~***~
Chanel walked past me and immediately I glanced at her stomach. She wasn’t showing, yet, but she walked like she wanted the whole world to know that she was pregnant. She waddled, with a flat ass stomach, and I wanted to scream at her and tell her to sit her four-day pregnant ass down somewhere! Of course, she was further along than that, but she had no idea, that she wouldn’t be carrying that baby much longer.
I made a U-turn and instead of heading to check out, I followed behind her. She headed down the aisle, slowly pushing the cart. I walked faster.
She stopped and I pushed my cart, intentionally into hers. She looked at me.
“Didn’t I just see you in line to check out?”
“Didn’t anybody ever teach you to mind your own damn business?”
Chanel shook her head. “You know what, whatever Yaya. I’m in a good mood today. So, go on.”
“Looks like eating has been your only mood lately. You’re looking a little heavy over there. That extra weight is weighing down the sides of your shoes,” I said to her nastily.
“Well, happiness will do that to you,” she said, instead of admitting that she was pregnant. “But I can’t expect you to know anything about that.”
Before I could comment, a woman spoke to Chanel.
“Excuse me ma’am, I lost your husband’s card. Remember me? A little while ago?” A woman said behind Chanel. “You were in here with your husband. He works with…”
Before the lady could finish her sentence, Chanel hurriedly grabbed the handle to her cart, and hastily walked away.
“How rude!” The woman screamed after Chanel as she turned the corner.
“What were you about to say?”
“I remember her. She and her husband were here a while ago. I remember her face because I told her that I wish that I was bold enough to wear a short cut like hers. Her husband works with computers. Real handsome fellow. Green-eyes. A head full of gorgeous hair. My son is amazing with computers and I’d overheard him on the phone, about an opening at his company. After chatting with him a bit, he gave me his card to give to my son, but I misplaced it,” she said.
She’d just described Dakota.
Apparently, he’d been in there with Chanel. I thought that for the most part they had just been screwing each other, but to hear that they were making grocery store runs together, and pretending as though they were a couple, burned me up inside.
“Can I ask you a weird question?”
“Sure,” the lady shrugged.
“When you saw her with her husband, did they seem…happy?” I questioned her.
She smiled. “Very.”
I swear to God, I hope Dakota becomes somebody’s bitch and I hope that Chanel burns in Hell!
~***~
I saw the blue lights flash in my rearview mirror. It was Jerome acting as though he was pulling me over, so that we could talk.
We were on a back street. One that I’d never been on before, but he’d told me to meet him there. I hadn’t seen a house in about a mile. It was early in the morning, right after dropping the kids off at school and even though no one was out, he figured making it look like a police stop was still the best move.
Just in case.
“License and registration ma’am,” he said.
I reached him the burner phone instead. He put the phone in his pocket.
“You were speeding little lady,” he said anyway, even though he’d told me that no one would be listening to our conversation.
“I know. I’m sorry. I was in a rush to get home.”
“Is everything okay?” He asked, which was the key question to make sure that everything was in place for our plan on my end.
“Yes. Everything is fine.”
“Good. I’ll let you go. Consider this your warning. Slow down. And be careful,” he said.
“Will do.”
I drove away in one direction and he turned around and drove in the other.
It was happening. This was really happening.
I drove in thought and found myself parked outside of Dakota’s office. I tried to think about the good things. I tried to see if I could forget the pain.
I sat there. All day. Waiting for Chanel to show up. Waiting for her to confirm that I was doing the right thing. No matter how morally wrong I knew that it was.
But she never came.
“Tomorrow is the big day!” Dakota smiled at me, later that evening.
Oh, you have no idea!
“It’s our anniversary!”
I forced myself to smile at him.
Yes, it was our anniversary, but it was also the day that the plan was set to take place. It was the day that Chanel was going to die, and it was the day that was going to change Dakota’s life forever.
“I already booked our flights. I can’t wait to take a break. Ma keeping the kids, right?”
“Yes.”
Dakota nodded and headed to take a shower.
I sat there. Thinking.
I wasn’t the finger on the trigger, per say, but I’d paid for it. I’d helped to plan it.
I’d done some things in my past that I wasn’t proud of; like getting paid to set people up. I would find the richest man in the crowd, show him a good time, agree to go to a hotel with him, and then allow my brother and his crew to rob him, and they would give me a cut. Oh, and then there was the time that I’d stolen the bag full of money from our neighborhood church. Hell, I’d even caught a few assault charges from slapping the edges clean off a bitch here and there, but never had I done something like this. Never had I killed anyone, helped to kill anyone or even thought about it.
And there were plenty of times that I should have.
I had the worst Mama in history. One who allowed her boyfriends to rape me. One who would be so worried about drinking that she would forget to feed me. One who took me to a rest stop one day and left me, and then pretended that she’d lost me to get money and sympathy. And still, I’d never even thought about killing her. I was happy as hell when she died, but she had alcohol to blame for that; not me.
But here I was.
Doing something out of hurt. Out of spite. Out of anger and embarrassment. I think the fact that I knew we were going to get away with it, caused me not to feel remorse the way that I should. My brother and his boys had done plenty. The charges that he did have on his record were petty compared to all of the shit that he’d actually done and gotten away with. I knew that everything would go okay on his end; especially because he could use the money that I was going to give him when all of this was over. He would make sure that he got the job done.
And then there was the fact that the law was on our side; literally. Jerome would be all in the mix, and he knew that he would be able to make sure that the scene was in order when he found her, dead, later on that night.
I knew that if we did everything just right, and if we told all of the right lies, that we were going to get away with this. This was actually going to work.
Dakota’s phone vibrated and I looked at it.
The shower was still going, so I headed for it.
Surprisingly, though he was cheating and doing dirt, he hadn’t bothered to change his password. Probably because I’d never been the type to touch or even question him about his phone, before all of this mess started going on.
I saw that it was a message from Chanel. It simply said: “Did you get my message?”
But there were no messages there. He’d erased it. I erased her message and headed back towards the bed.
They brought this on themselves.
Dakota entered the room, butt-naked and dripping wet.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
This was the man that I thought I was going to grow old with. The man that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. The man that I thought…
Well, I guess that’s why we don’t get paid for thinking. At that moment, I realized that he was none of those things and as of tomorrow---he never would be.
Briefly, I thought about our wedding day.
You know, most wedding days are stressful.
Stuff is always going wrong. Everything and everyone is always late. But not ours. Our wedding day was perfect. It went so smoothly that it was almost scary. It was like it was meant to be. Everything was in order. I was stress-free. And when the doors of the church opened and I spotted Dakota at the end of the altar waiting for me, I felt like I was the luckiest woman in the world. Despite all I’d done, and all that I’d been through, I felt redeemed.
I knew that marrying him meant new beginnings, and a brand new me, and that was all I’d ever wanted. To escape the pain and the disappointments of my past. And Dakota had been that for me. He’d rescued me. He’d saved me.
As I looked at him, I wondered if he was worth saving. I wondered if we were worth saving. I wondered…
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Dakota asked.
I shook my head.
I was emotional. I was full of regrets.
He flashed his million-dollar smile at me and I figured that since he was going to be spending the rest of his life in prison, I might as well let him “hit” it, just one more time.
“Come here.”
He grinned and walked towards me.
“You want some of this King Ding-a-ling, don’t you?” He asked, swinging his Johnson back and forth.
“Boy, please,” I said as he continued to showcase his package.
“You know, getting away with you, for our anniversary, is just what I need. I have so much to tell you.”
I looked at him confused.
“Tell me? Like what?”
“Yaya---.”
I held my breath as I waited for him to finish his sentence. What was he about to say?
“Nothing. We will talk about it on the beach. But I want you to know that I love you and that I know I may not be the perfect man, but celebrating 11 years of marriage, means something to me. And I promise that for the next 11 years, and for the 11 years after that and so on, I’m going to try to be. I’m going to try to be perfect, just for you.” And before I could respond, he kissed my lips.
As he kissed me, I was thinking about what he’d been about to say. Was he planning on being honest with me? Was he planning to confess his wrongs, and finally tell me the truth? Would that make everything different? The facts wouldn’t change, but would I still feel the same? Would I still feel as much anger and pain? Would I still go through with the plan?
Chanel would still be pregnant, but maybe he could get through to her, with my help, and convince her to get rid of the ba
by. Would that matter?
Dakota took my thoughts away for the moment as he positioned himself on top of me. And for the first time, in a long time we didn’t just fuck. He didn’t want to do anything weird or kinky.
For the first time…and for the last time…
We made love.
~***~
“Just make the call Yaya. Just make the damn call!”
I was freaking out!
Maybe it was his semi-confession the night before, or the sex, or the words that he’d said to me this morning, but I was rethinking everything!
My hands were shaking. I was panting and I was sweating uncontrollably. I’d told Dakota that I was going shopping for stuff to take on our vacation, so I wouldn’t be back home until later. Dakota had taken the day off and I knew that soon he would be headed to Chanel’s.
Jerome sent him a text message from Chanel’s cell phone, earlier that morning, asking him to come by to talk about the baby around 2 p.m. Dakota responded that it was our anniversary, but that he would stop by for a quick second. He also asked her if it was about getting rid of the baby. Jerome had texted him back: “Yes”. I’d checked his phone when he went in the bathroom, which was how I’d seen the responses. As planned, Jerome should’ve been waiting on Dakota’s response on that end to erase it so that Chanel didn’t see it any of the text messages. Of course, she would know that she hadn’t asked him to come over, but she wouldn’t be alive to say otherwise.
By the time that Dakota got to Chanel’s house, for the talk, she should already be dead, but that would put him at the house, at the scene, at the time of the murder.
Chanel was jobless, thanks to me, so she would be home, especially, since Jerome had made her breakfast in bed that morning, and added a little something to her food to make her sick, guaranteeing that she would be home running to the bathroom all day long.
Around 1:30, he was going to call her and ask her to go outside to check the mailbox for an important letter that he’d conveniently been mentioning over the last few days. There was no letter. But while she was outside, whoever my brother hired, was going to go through the unlocked window on the far backside of the house. It was the window in the spare bedroom. Jerome said that the door would be closed and that it was on the side of the house where there were no neighbors. So, he was unlikely to be seen. And once Chanel came back into the house, he was supposed to take care of her---kill her.
