Sinful

by McGlothin, Victor

  “I almost passed you a note suggesting that you two get a room,” Grace whispered in Chandelle’s ear, once the church services concluded. “It was hard paying attention with all of that body checking going on.”

  “I didn’t know it was that obvious,” Chandelle said, her face all aglow. “Marvin and I met with the realtor yesterday. As soon as we find a house we like, we’ll have plenty of rooms to choose from.”

  “Ooh, Chandelle, I should have known better than to bring up married folks’ business around you. I’m surprised you’re not standing here with your belly stretching out like mine.”

  “We’ve been practicing, that’s for sure,” Chandelle chuckled. “But we decided to wait so the baby would have a real nursery. Now it won’t be long,” she said, slightly envious of Grace’s good fortune. “It’ll be nice for our kids to come up together. You’d make a wonderful godmother, Grace. That’d make it harder for you to fire me, then.”

  “Job security isn’t a bad thing nowadays, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Chandelle agreed. “Speaking of that, when is Wallace going back to teach?”

  “He decided to let it go for now. His father’s been leaning on him pretty heavy to join the family firm. Since I’m not interested in moving to Austin, he’ll probably run a satellite office here. Oh, there he is flagging me down from the back door. See you tomorrow.”

  “See you, Grace,” Chandelle hailed, very glad to have a friend whom she could look up to and receive a paycheck from at the same time. Marvin eased up behind her, slyly brushing his hand against the back of her dress. “Oops,” she stammered. “Boy, don’t be sneaking up on me in public like that. I didn’t know who that was trying to cop a feel.”

  “It’d better be only me, in public or otherwise,” Marvin said, with a raised brow. “I almost had to break down the water cooler in the pastor’s office. He didn’t opt for the delivery service like I recommended. Now I’m the one he expects to change out the bottles and keep it running.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “I changed out the bottles,” he admitted, laughing at his predicament. “And I’m waiting on the call I know is coming to keep it running too. Let’s get out of here before something does go on the blink. I’m picking up an extra shift today.”

  Chandelle wrinkled her nose at Marvin’s latest news flash. “I thought you got Mr. Mercer straight last year about working on Sundays?”

  “I did, but this was my idea,” he confessed, knowing that an argument was imminent. “We’ll talk about it on the way home.”

  We most certainly will talk about it, Chandelle thought, while dragging her feet all the way out to the parking lot. “Have a good week, Sistah Kolislaw,” she spoke pleasantly to one of the mothers of the congregation. Once inside the car, it was another story. “Now, what’s this about you wanting to work on Sunday? We both decided that Sundays were family-me-and-you-chill days. Why didn’t you confer with me about it?”

  “I didn’t want to get into it because I knew we’d be right here doing this, fussing about it. Sometimes I hate being right.”

  “What’s right about you living at the job, Marvin? If you’d taken a regular office position by now, this wouldn’t even be an issue.”

  Marvin huffed as he turned the wheel to exit the lot. “If you didn’t have to have a more expensive house, it wouldn’t be an issue either. Chandelle, there’s a cost that goes with moving upstream.” When she didn’t have words to combat his, Marvin assumed the discussion was over, but his wife was only catching her breath.

  Chandelle gathered her thoughts and chose her words. No matter how she planned on using them, they seemed to backfire in her mind every time. When Marvin parked her car outside of their apartment building, Chandelle was positive she had an airtight argument to keep him home. Then the unthinkable happened: He pushed the trunk release button from the inside.

  As the lid sprang upward, she screamed but nothing came out. She had forgotten to return the mink coat. Ready to take her punishment for breaking their agreement on purchases above one hundred dollars, Chandelle held her breath and winced.

  “Are you too mad at me to get out of the car?” he asked, fiddling around in the side wells for a music CD. “Ahh, there it is,” he mumbled to himself, before slamming the trunk shut. Chandelle was afraid to face him until he forced her hand. “Aren’t you getting out? Don’t tell me you’re hot enough at me to sit out here in the cold?”

  “No, no, I’m not mad,” she whimpered. I just got a pardon from the governor.

  “Cool, because we’ll need some extra money and I don’t like fighting with my woman,” he said, softly kissing her on the cheek. “Let’s go in and make up. I’ve got an hour before I punch in.”

  “Ohhh, yeah,” she flirted seductively. “I’ve got something you can punch right here.”

  “I’ll bet you do. Let me put on this CD, then you can show it to me,” Marvin growled softly.

  Chandelle tossed her eyes up at the sky and thanked her lucky stars, though she wasn’t sure God had anything to do with her having gotten away with deceiving her husband. No sooner than she felt confident that the stars had aligned in her favor, the doorbell sounded. Chandelle was half dressed and almost deeply into an afternoon rendezvous with Marvin when the doorbell rang again. “Let it ring, baby,” she said, when he hesitated with the business at hand, pleasing her. “It’s probably somebody selling something.”

  “No, no, it’s Sunday,” he said, grabbing a handful of Chandelle’s hair.

  “That’s my point,” she answered cunningly.

  The doorbell rang for a third time with an intermittent rally of bothersome raps thrown in. “I’ll get it,” Marvin grunted, though not nearly in the intimate manner he’d laid on Chandelle to put her in the mood. “Don’t you move an inch,” he said, slipping on his robe and house shoes.

  Chandelle gestured at the rise in his robe. “I won’t if you won’t.”

  “I’m coming,” he yelled in the direction of the door. “Hold on a minute.” One quick glance through the peephole deflated his hopes of finishing what he’d started. There were no peddlers bidding for a shot to make a sales pitch. As far as he was concerned, it was worse than that, much worse.

  6

  Damned If You Do

  “Hey, Marvin,” Dior said as quietly as a church mouse. She wanted to barge in like she’d always done, but Marvin was purposely blocking the door with his body. “Can I come in?” she whined.

  Reluctantly, Marvin pulled the door open wider so Dior could enter. “What’s with the bag?” he asked, flicking a quick glance toward the taupe-colored duffel.

  “I saw Chandelle’s car out front so I knew y’all was back from church service. I hope I didn’t interrupt nothing,” she said, scanning his legs and anything else she could see pushing against the thin navy-hued silk robe.

  “Nothing that won’t keep,” he answered, casting another suspicious eye at her luggage. He didn’t know what was happening, but he was sure he wouldn’t like the outcome. “I’ll go tell Chandelle you stopped by. You may as well go on and have a seat,” Marvin offered finally.

  Oh, I plan to. “Thank you so much, Marvin. I’m sorry for showing up without calling first. I know how you hate that.”

  Marvin grumbled as he headed down the short hallway to the master bedroom at the end of it. He closed the door behind him, and then sat on the edge of the bed. He’d been gone so long that Chandelle had dozed off. “Your girl came by,” Marvin informed her, smirking his displeasure. “And she brought some clothes with her too.”

  Squirming beneath the warm sheets, Chandelle sighed seductively. “So that’s what took you so long? Hmmm, I’ll call her later. Get back in the bed, baby,” she said in a noticeably faint tone.

  After looking at his beautiful wife over his shoulder, he realized that she hadn’t comprehended what he said. “Chandelle…she’s still out there. Said she needs to talk to you.”

  “Dior’s still out t
here?” she asked, raising her sleepy head. “You left her out in the cold?”

  “Nah, she’s in the living room, probably cooking up a scheme to get in your pockets. You know, the usual,” he added, as if Chandelle wasn’t already well aware of Dior’s long-term bouts of mischievous behavior and her lack of funds. As she climbed out of bed, Marvin watched her nude body glide across the room. His expression conveyed how he’d rather she stayed to perform some of the intimate pleasures of life, but after Chandelle had cloaked herself in the woman’s version of his stylish robe, his hopes up and fluttered away.

  “Dior? Are you all right?” Chandelle whispered, with remnants of pleasure deferred in her voice.

  Dior, possessing the inexhaustible ability to drum up nifty lies at a moment’s notice, reached deep down inside her soul and came off with a world-class doozy. “Ohhh, Chandelle,” she moaned. “I didn’t want to bother y’all, but I need some money.”

  “Dior, you’ve got to be kidding me. I have some business of my own to sort out, too, and it was about to click so…Can’t this wait? And anyway, what happened between you and Kevlin? Did he get rough with you?”

  “Chandelle, I wouldn’t even be here but I ain’t got nowhere else to turn. I’m late on my rent, again, and now they done went and locked me out.” She had been summoned with a pending eviction and her locks had been changed, so that much was true. “Please, don’t be that way. You don’t know what I’ve been through. Kevlin kicked me curbside last night just like you said he would. He had some freak coming over and cussed me until I felt so bad I ran out of there. After my key didn’t work at the apartment, I used my fist to bust the bedroom window to climb in and get some necessary stuff. When the mean old lady who lives upstairs heard me, she said she was calling the police. She didn’t even care that it was my own stuff I was taking.” Merely for effect, Dior lowered her head in shame before continuing her onslaught. “I ain’t never felt so alone so I drove around until I got too tired to drive. If the dollar movies weren’t open until midnight, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

  Chandelle was cautious, but Dior’s words came from that place she once knew too well herself: desperation. “If you put your hand through the window, why isn’t it all cut up?” she challenged.

  “I wrapped my hand in my coat like they do on TV, or else I’d have one more thing I couldn’t afford to fix,” she babbled. “Please, just give me a couple of days to get something cracking. I can’t take nobody else flipping on me. When I fell asleep on the back row at the movies, two men woke me up and one of ’em called me a crack head, and you know I don’t get down like that, but still this manager and another man, they started loud talking me and then told me I had to go. Kevlin done dogged me. I ran the streets all night, and…now you’re looking at me like I’m lying. Chandelle, I’m not lying,” she lied most assuredly, with misty eyes to help further her cause. “If I could, I’d do the same and look out for you. You know I would.”

  “Oomph, this is too much,” Chandelle said, massaging both of her temples with outstretched fingertips. “Sit down, girl, I won’t trip. Besides, your mother was there for us when mine got laid off. Blood is thicker than tears,” she’d determined.

  “Thank you, Chandelle, thank you so much,” Dior sighed, while celebrating quietly so as not to disturb Marvin. “What about him?” she asked, gazing toward the closed bedroom door.

  “You let me worry about that. Put your things in the other room. But this is not a permanent situation. You will look for a job tomorrow and every other day until someone’s willing to pay you for something.”

  “I will, Chandelle,” Dior agreed, although with reservations. “I’ll come out of this on top, you’ll see. Uh-uh, you won’t regret this, not one bit.”

  I’m already regretting it, Chandelle thought, while turning the doorknob and praying that Marvin had somehow fallen asleep. Unfortunately, Marvin was fully dressed in the Appliance World uniform, khaki slacks and top. Feverishly lacing up his shoes, he was visibly consumed with getting away from there. “Do you have a minute before you leave?” she said, secretly wishing he didn’t. “We should talk.”

  “No, and no we shouldn’t,” he replied rudely. “I don’t want to discuss it and I don’t like the idea of Dior crashing here because she’s always putting in work on some scam.”

  “For someone who don’t want to discuss it, your mouth sure is moving overtime,” Chandelle fired back, louder than she meant to. Dior’s dilemma had her in a rough spot. She’d given her word to help, and that was that. “I’ve…already told her I would. I should have talked it over with you first, but it wouldn’t have changed anything. She’s busted, tired, and probably hungry too. How can we turn our noses up at that?”

  Marvin snatched a thin jacket off the bed. “Watch me!” he yelled, brushing by her like she was a hat rack. “She’s trouble, Chandelle, trouble.”

  “What family member isn’t? Look,” she debated, extending her hands to summon a calmer spirit. “Honey, today’s sermon was meant to address this exact issue. It’s like a sign or something. What does the Bible say, ‘I was hungry and you gave me meat. I was thirsty and you gave me drink. I was a stranger and you took me in,’” she recited as best she could from Matthew 25:35–36. “Now, Dior isn’t a stranger, but we should do our best to feed her and provide a warm place to lay her head as best we can. That’s the Scripture. We said we would always strive to have a Christian home, not just when it suits us.”

  Marvin stroked at his chin. Having heard the same sermon, he took his analysis to another level. “Feed her and take her in, huh? Don’t forget the Bible also says to clothe the naked and look in on the sick. Well that cousin of yours is twisted all the way to the bone, and there ain’t no cure for that.”

  “Don’t be so short-sighted,” Chandelle argued.

  “And don’t you get all ‘What would Jesus do’ on me. Dior doesn’t know Him and He probably forgot about her a long time ago.”

  “Watch what you say, Marvin. Neither one of us is in any position to judge or to be trying to guess who Jesus is pulling for or is still down with. Me and Dior, we’ve got a good understanding, and she’ll be on her best behavior or I’ll toss her out myself. You have my word on that.”

  “Your word?” Marvin huffed. “It doesn’t mean as much to me when you’ve already given it to her.”

  Dior had been listening attentively with her ear pressed against the bedroom door. Marvin nearly stumbled over her when he darted out. Slow down, dude, it ain’t that serious, she thought. But ooh, isn’t it cozy to have y’all fighting over me? Warm fuzzies.” Dior realized then that Marvin was not even remotely happy with her being there. An array of mischievous ideas crossed her mind immediately. She was determined, willing to stop at nothing, to manipulate Marvin’s attitude toward her.

  Once the door slammed behind Marvin, Dior sighed as she plopped down on the sofa, she was relieved to have slid in just under the wire. Chandelle exhaled, too, although for a different reason entirely. Her man was not happy, her home had been upset by an unannounced visitor whom he didn’t much care for, and trouble was brewing inside of him. She felt that the one saving grace was making it through the weekend without having had her expensive purchase detected by him.

  Then there was a knock at the door. Chandelle shrugged her shoulders. When she looked out of the peephole, her eyes found Marvin’s face scowling back at hers. Chandelle wasn’t sure what to make of it when she twisted the doorknob. “What is it, Marvin, did you forget your keys?” she asked.

  “No, but you forgot to tell me about this,” he smarted. Before Chandelle had the chance to explain what a six-thousand-dollar fur was doing in the trunk of her car, Marvin iced her with a damaging assessment of their commitment to fiscal responsibilities. “I’ve been munching on pimp steak for a month now, saving every dime I could so that we wouldn’t be strapped over buying a decent home, and you’ve been out there behind my back running through the mall and running up our credit.
It’s going back, Chandelle, today!” Without as much as another word, Marvin handed the garment bag to his wife, turned, and walked away.

  “I never told you because I’d already planned on returning it,” she said to the closed door. “Besides, nobody asked you to eat all that baloney.”

  “I told you he was gonna trip,” Dior chuckled, with her head in her hands. “Baloney? For a whole month? I ain’t ever had a man love me that much,” she added as an afterthought. “And I hate baloney, even if it does have a first name.”

  “So does Marvin,” Chandelle whispered, recognizing just how lucky she had been while being carelessly frivolous at the same time. “Give me a minute,” she said, before heading for the backroom. “We’ve got to go.”

  “Go? Go where?”

  “Where a woman should steer clear of when her man is sacrificing for their future by living on pimp steak. Girl, we’re going to the Galleria.”

  7

  Two Kinds of Crazy

  “I am so blessed to have Marvin,” Chandelle admitted fondly, while patrolling the mall parking lot for an available space not too far from the entrance. “It’s still hard to do what I’m supposed to, though. It’s like they say, I shop, therefore I am.” She glanced at Dior, who was frowning curiously.

  “I saw that on a swap meet T-shirt before,” she said, with her lips pursed momentarily. “Almost copped one, too, but it sounded like something a white chick would flow with so I put it back.”

  “Uh-uh, white women don’t have a lock on blowing money. That’s always an equal-opportunity situation. Oh, here’s a good spot.” Chandelle guided her car in and killed the engine. She turned toward her cousin and glared.