Sinful

by McGlothin, Victor

  He didn’t have to state the obvious, the cause of one argument and heated disagreement after the next. Chandelle’s frivolous spending habits along with the unnecessary items she purchased without regard to their budget were their main issues. Chandelle was accustomed to the finer things of life that shopping outside of her means provided. She refused to accept the grim reality that her salary hadn’t begun to measure up to her expensive taste. Although Marvin’s take-home pay barely rivaled hers, he rarely purchased anything over one hundred dollars unless he absolutely had to. Chandelle would dip into their savings to broaden her shopping expedition. When Marvin threatened to remove her from their “down payment” account, she promised to stay out of it and curtail her spending. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

  On their way to meet with the realtor, Chandelle flipped through a stack of Home & Garden magazines she’d collected over the past four months. Bubbling with anticipation, her head was filled with decorating ideas, grand archways, and spiral staircases. Whether any of those came with homes within their price range had yet to be revealed. One hundred and eighty thousand dollars provided several options for a young couple seeking a four-bedroom property in north Dallas. The realtor had confirmed it beforehand. “Honey, you think we’ll find something today?” asked Chandelle, when they parked in front of Hightower Realty.

  Marvin shrugged his shoulders and stepped out of the car. “Maybe, I told Kim what you wanted and she said it was doable.”

  “Doable?” And who’s Kim?

  The realty office door opened as they walked up. A petite white brunette sauntered out, wearing a pinstriped skirt and blue ruffled blouse. She held a leather binder tucked beneath her arm. “Good morning,” she announced as if it were her name.

  Chandelle returned the pleasantries immediately. “Are you Kim?”

  “No, but she is,” answered the brunette, when a striking milk chocolate-colored woman appeared from behind the wheel of a shiny crème-colored Cadillac Escalade.

  Initially, Chandelle was ecstatic that they’d be working with an African American and then she saw it: the effervescent grin plastered onto Marvin’s lips. He was actually grinning, too hard for his wife’s liking. As far as Chandelle knew, this Kim person was simply a voice on the other end of the telephone before that day, but Marvin’s ridiculously overbearing smile had her thinking otherwise. I thought you said you’d never met, was keenly transmitted through the five-fingernail death grip Chandelle covertly administered. Marvin didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve the sharp pain shooting up his right arm or if the beautiful realtor had witnessed him being assaulted. Marvin was caught between the awestruck boy he used to be and the man he’d become, fearful that Chandelle would clamp down even harder and draw blood.

  “Hello, I’m Kim Hightower,” she said cordially, extending her right hand.

  Marvin shook Chandelle’s talons from his in order to accept it. He opened his mouth to speak, but Chandelle cut him off at the pass.

  “Hi, Kim, I’m Chandelle Hutchins…Marvin’s wife,” she said, fake smiling all the way. She’d appraised sister girl’s ensemble from head to toe in one millisecond. Hair, long but not overdone, nicely woven, no track lines, and professionally coifed: two points for that. Eggshell designer jacket and skirt cut above the knee, most likely by St. John: three points because it has obviously been tailored to fit just so. Slender, toned legs: A one-point deduction because I’m hating. Hosiery, oomph, DKNY business fishnets…the same ones I buy: gotta give up four points for that. Shoes, uh-uh-uh, the shoes just have to be the classic Stuart Weitzman leather pumps: five points for finding them in that shade of bone and walking like they don’t hurt your feet. Score: thirteen points total. Uh-uh, she’s put together too well to be showing my man anything but the spot I’m standing on.

  “Glad to meet you, Chandelle,” Kim replied, her Pepsodent smile intact. “And, Marvin, finally we meet. It’s good to put a name with a face. I talked to my younger brother, Felton, and you were right, you both failed ninth-grade algebra together.”

  “Kim, it’s great seeing you,” Marvin said, snapping back to reality. “Yeah, me and Felton had lots of fun flunking that class. Second time around was serious biz, though. Mom wasn’t having it.”

  “With such a pretty lady, it’s apparent you made out all right. I can’t say the same for that hardheaded brother of mine.”

  Chandelle noticed that Kim looked him over but didn’t spend too much energy or time in any one place, which was cool with Chandelle, feeling better about the situation by the moment.

  Marvin massaged his arm casually when it occurred to him that a further explanation was warranted. “Sweetheart, Kim was three grades ahead of me at John Quinn High. She was voted…let’s see, Most Beautiful, Class Fav’, Student Council President,” he recited from memory.

  “And a whole list of other honors, I’m sure,” Chandelle snapped. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Girl, I know that’s right,” Kim seconded. “Don’t get me wrong, Marvin, but all that school days stuff happened a long time ago. If I have to hear how popular I used to be one more time, I might scream. Come on, y’all, let’s go check out some properties.”

  “Yes, come—come, Marvin,” Chandelle prodded gleefully while climbing into the realtor’s dazzling SUV. The sixteen-year-old-crush her husband savored for far too long had suddenly drawn up and blown away. “Let’s go with Kim, to see some properties.” And if I ever catch you looking at another woman like you want to see her naked, you’ll be wearing three shoes, yours plus one of my size nines hanging out of your behind. “Hurry up, baby, time’s a-wasting,” she insisted dutifully.

  From where Marvin sat, in the backseat of that whalelike vehicle, it appeared he’d dodged a bullet. Chandelle was in her element, discussing expensive concepts and digging every minute of it. Marvin knew that Kim Hightower was a whiz with numbers and her business savvy rated top-notch too but she had already begun to exceed his expectations in the interpersonal department. In short order, Kim had cast a spell over Chandelle. She had somehow created a nonthreatening and accommodating atmosphere where an attractive woman felt at ease immediately. Like an accomplished salesperson, Kim allowed Chandelle to direct their conversation, while she listened attentively. Marvin used a similar technique when displaying appliances on the showroom floor. He always said, ‘Let a customer talk long enough, they’ll eventually say something you can use to earn a bigger commission.’

  Chandelle didn’t realize it, but she’d raised several red flags for Kim before they pulled into the driveway of the first home. Even though Kim predicted that it was likely to be a very long day, she proceeded to show the homes, preselected based on the Hutchins’s financing and Chandelle’s list of must-haves.

  “Come on in,” Kim beckoned, when Chandelle only jutted her head inside of the front door. “It’s impossible to see the good stuff from out on the porch.”

  “Chandelle, what’s wrong with you?” Marvin whispered in her ear. “Are you that nervous?”

  “No, this house is that small,” she whispered back to him.

  “Is there a problem?” Kim asked. She knew precisely what the problem was when Chandelle went “oh” instead of “ooh” when she first laid eyes on it, the two-story red brick with an oversized backyard. Most new home buyers experience delusions of grandeur. The palace they had in mind didn’t exist for the money they had in the bank. Kim had seen it a thousand times. This was her 1,001 chance to coach yet another of them through the realization process of separating what moved them and what they could afford to move into.

  “Honestly, I was expecting something…bigger,” Chandelle admitted, now standing in the front doorway. Marvin was at a loss. To him, it appeared to be four times bigger than their apartment.

  “Okay, but that’s the beauty of looking, it’s free,” Kim chuckled. “It’s very important to check things out, look around to see if there is anything you do like about it. Every house has d
ifferent qualities, like men. Let’s take a few minutes getting to know this one.”

  “Yeah, I’m with that,” Marvin said, with his eyes roaming throughout the front room.

  “I was never interested in getting to know a single thing about little men,” Chandelle huffed. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

  “It shouldn’t take us too long, huh, Kim?” Marvin asked, loud enough for Chandelle to hear and become jealous. The realtor caught on fast. She played it up at the husband’s behest.

  “Uhh, yes,” she agreed. “Giving you the ten-cent tour shouldn’t take more than ten, fifteen minutes tops.”

  I know they don’t think I’m gullible to the point of being tricked into getting to know this tiny little bread box, Chandelle thought. “Well, if it only takes a few minutes, maybe I should look it over and you know, see what’s what,” she said, easing off her leather mule slip-ons. I ain’t trusting to the point of letting my man traipse from room to room with that former prom queen either.

  “This house is a charming three-bedroom with a study,” Kim began, once Chandelle followed. “Marvin said you only wanted to see two-story properties, with spacious master bedrooms, a garden tub, and kitchen upgrades,” she said to Chandelle, who strategically paced between the realtor and Marvin. “As you can see, the ceramic floors are practically new and very nicely maintained.”

  They don’t look that new, Chandelle thought.

  “There are two food pantries, a particular upgrade because there’s also a breakfast nook. Usually there isn’t room for both,” Kim pointed out.

  “Two pantries?” Chandelle replied. “And a breakfast nook?” This bassinet is too cramped for an extra trash can, she almost said aloud. She was already glancing at her trusty Movado timepiece and this was only the first home on their list to view.

  “Note the vaulted ceilings, two full baths upstairs,” Kim politely explained. “This closet has a custom finish, see the his/hers built-in shoe racks and hat coves; a distinctive difference.”

  Chandelle wasn’t even slightly interested in the walk-in closet. This isn’t a closet, it’s a hutch, she thought, a tiny one at that. I couldn’t even turn around good inside of it, much less stroll through trying to decide on outfits and shoes. And what do hats need with some coves in the first place?”

  With the second house, it was even more charming than the first. Chandelle understood then that charming must have been an industry code word for very, very tiny. The vibrant chatter that had accompanied them before the tour began dwindled each time they exited another of Kim’s wonderful finds and piled back into her fancy vehicle. Marvin was increasingly embarrassed each step of the way. Chandelle was just plain through. Not at all impressed by the finely manicured lawns, charming four-bedroom split levels, updated kitchens, and fresh paint, she couldn’t envision moving her royal throne into either of them.

  During the ride back to the realty office, not one single word was uttered. Marvin gazed out of the back window in a cloud of frustration. Chandelle flipped through pages of her magazines, silently wondering where the photographer who’d found them officed because that’s who she wanted on her house-hunting team. Kim wasn’t in the least bit surprised. For most young couples, agreeing on their first home was one of the toughest decisions they’d ever have to face. She’d seen marriages implode because of it. Hopefully, Marvin and Chandelle’s wouldn’t become one of them.

  With the wind taken out of his sails, Marvin exited the SUV and opened the door for Chandelle even though he couldn’t muster anything to say.

  Kim thanked them for choosing her, asked that they talk things over and openly share ideas before planning another trip around the block. When neither Marvin nor Chandelle offered much in the way of an endorsement, she handed business cards to them and excused herself.

  Marvin blew out a laborious sigh, the one he’d held in for hours. Chandelle stood near him in the parking lot, with her mind on dissolving their relationship with Hightower Realty. Both of them were frayed at the edges with great measures of disappointment.

  “Marvin, I didn’t want to say anything because you and Kim’s brother go way back, but she isn’t doing it for me. Maybe we need to get another realtor with better taste. Maybe that white chick we saw coming out earlier, maybe she can come up with something. If I have another day like this one, I’d be willing to keep the apartment.”

  Scratching at the nape of his neck, Marvin put on his business hat after removing the one that said, “Husband.” “You didn’t have to tell me you weren’t feeling any of the places we saw today. It was written all over your face. Kim noticed, too, but didn’t trip on it. If you really want to be honest, the problem isn’t with her.”

  “What, you trying to say she’s right and I’m wrong?” Chandelle challenged.

  “Now you’re tripping. Listen to what I’ve been thinking before jumping on me about it. I know people. I’m a salesman. It’s my job to figure out what they want before they do and I’m good at it. Kim went out and located what we, I said we were looking for based on the financing we got from the bank and the stuff you put down as ‘deal makers.’ Let’s give her another shot and see if we can’t stretch our money.”

  “Ooh, baby, you think we could?” Chandelle moaned heartily, like she had when they were in bed.

  “Yeah, it’ll work out fine. I just don’t want you to get discouraged. Home buying is a big deal. We’ll talk to Kim about it and see if she can work on another group of properties.”

  When the seasoned realtor saw them exchange tender lip smacks from her desk, she headed out of the door on cue with briefcase in hand. “What are y’all still doing here?” she questioned, believably surprised. “I was on the way out.”

  “Kim, do you have another client today?” Marvin asked, behind an eager grin.

  “Actually, I do, my favorite one,” she answered with a gleam in her eyes. “I’m booked all afternoon with my four-year-old Danni. She’s with a sitter now and I’m sure watching the clock. What was I thinking, teaching her how to tell time?”

  “It was just a thought but we’d hate to keep you from her,” Marvin said, his eyes exhibiting a glint of defeat.

  “Is there something you wanted to discuss? I do have a minute.”

  He tossed a smile at Chandelle, then slid both hands inside his front pockets. “It’s obvious that we need to reevaluate a few things.”

  Watching as Chandelle’s eyes flickered, Kim nodded that she fully understood. “Sure, let’s step inside a few minutes. I know exactly what you mean. Chandelle would like more house than you’ve qualified for.”

  “Yes!” Chandelle answered for him.

  “It happens all the time,” Kim admitted. “And it won’t take but a sec to run some numbers. Hopefully, our next outing will sustain that smile on Mrs. Hutchins’s face.”

  “Mr. Hutchins would like that very much,” Marvin replied, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was also secretly hoping that their credit line didn’t end where Chandelle’s happiness began. What he hadn’t considered at all was his own state of mind.

  4

  Dooney Does It

  Saturday afternoon, Marvin showed up at Appliance World even though he was scheduled to be off. Mr. Mercer was happy to see him. The store was packed to the gills with potential shoppers who’d missed the big sale the day before. Since the newspaper mistakenly ran the same ad for a second day, he felt compelled to honor their requests and extend his cost-cutting sale throughout the evening.

  “Didn’t think I’d have a chance to breathe today,” Mercer told him. “Now that you’re here, I can roam around and check on things.”

  Marvin knew what that implied. It wouldn’t be long before the unscrupulous owner found another willing female who wanted something from the showroom she’d have to pay only pennies on the dollar to work out a backdoor deal. Since it was none of Marvin’s business, he decided once again to mind his own.

  “Lem, where’s Rodney?” Marvin questi
oned the energetic salesman. Rodney was the weekend only part-timer who sat in an office Monday through Friday. He was a natural, thirty years old and liked the buzz he got from closing deals. Marvin often wished he was still just as enthusiastic about moving metal, one difficult customer at a time. Lem, in desperate need of a break, shook his head while searching a microwave for the serial number. “I don’t know,” he grunted, utterly dismayed. “Rodney has been displaying dishwashers all day. He’s probably sold ten of them by hisself.”

  “That’s what’s up. I’ll make a sweep to see if Reeka and Thomas need a break. Knock off and take a thirty after your next sale. I’m covering today.”

  Lem seemed puzzled. “What about Mr. Mercer? He said nobody gets to leave until the showroom closes down at seven.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be too busy working his own magic.” Marvin knew it was against state laws to enslave employees by refusing them time for lunch. When the younger man glared at him, regarding Mr. Mercer’s overly aggressive sales tactics, Marvin changed the subject. “By the way, the serial numbers on General Electrics are always stamped on the door…right under your thumb.” Lem slowly lifted his hand, discovering what had him steaming for over five minutes. Marvin was right, but then he always was when it came to products sold in the store. He should have been promoted to manager years ago, but Mr. Mercer wasn’t about to relinquish that kind of power. His “say so” was all that mattered unless his wife superseded his authority, which she did every now and again.

  Grinning wildly, Lem thanked Marvin as he jotted down the serial number on an order and pay pad. “Go get ’em, Lem,” he cheered, as Rodney marched down the aisle between televisions and high-end stereos.

  Rodney was almost as tall as Marvin, a dusky shade of brown, twenty pounds heavier, and often complained about losing his boyish physique because of fifty-hour work weeks tied to a desk. They were alike in many respects, both of them shared the same disrespect for the way the boss pimped merchandise and cheated on his wife. “Hey, Marvin, where’s Mr. Mercer?” he asked anxiously, slapping Marvin’s right palm homeboy style. “I need to get something to eat before I fall out. Reeka’s starving too. She’s getting mean.”