Sinful

by McGlothin, Victor

  Reeka rolled her eyes. “It’s been a long time since the west side sun went down on me.”

  Dooney flashed an impish grin. “Who were you doing it with when it did? I might know him.”

  “Never mind. Why do I even bother?”

  “Cause you miss the hood and I’m Dooney from the block…and then some. Sit down and tell Doo-doo all about it.”

  Reeka’s lip twisted as if she smelled something rank. “Security!”

  Marvin shuffled his feet toward the exit doors when Dooney pulled on his elbow from behind. “Hold on, Kinfolk. Where are you going? You just got here and I need a new microwave.”

  “Mr. Mercer let me go, fired me on the spot.”

  “Awe, Marvin, that’s jacked up. How am I gonna get that friends and family discount now?” Dooney couldn’t see past his own dilemma to recognize Marvin’s plight. He headed back inside the store looking for option two. “Reeeka!”

  13

  His Clothes and Her Wrath

  Marvin drove the city streets for hours. He’d lost his job and was at a dangerous crossroad in his marriage. Chandelle had become the enemy, without rhyme or reason as far as Marvin was concerned. There was only one person he felt comfortable enough with to discuss the shambles that had become his existence.

  Marvin killed the engine in front of a second-rate bar and grill on the south side of town. Duper’s was the pride and joy of Dave Headley, the longtime best friend of Marvin’s father. Although he never married himself, the seasoned ex-high school basketball legend had seen his share of bad ones to lend a good ear. Marvin was lucky because it was too early in the day for the after-work crowd to swarm the small tavern and start licking their wounds.

  “Super-duper Dave,” Marvin hailed as he plopped down on a bar stool.

  The older man—tall, lanky, clean shaven, gray hair covered partially with a black dye rinse—was dressed in a dated long-sleeved sweater and faded jeans. For a man in his sixties, his soft brown skin was unlined.

  Dave had been reading the newspaper when he heard a familiar voice with a tired chord running through it. He peered up from the sports section and shook his head. His eyes found Marvin sitting there with trouble painted all over his face. “Uh-oh, I’ve seen that look before, just not on you. How bad is it?”

  Before Marvin answered, he turned his head to see if anyone was within earshot of his voice. Two retired firemen, who were always there when the doors opened, argued about checkers from one of the back tables. Other than a middle-aged woman singing along with a jukebox, they had the place to themselves.

  “Real bad,” Marvin replied eventually. “My marriage is over, Dave. Chandelle called my boss and got me fired right after she had the law put the cuffs on me.”

  While brushing against his chin with the back of his skinny fingers, the barkeeper sighed. “Yep, that’s pretty bad all right. You didn’t let her catch you with another woman, did you? It was a woman, I hope?” he asked, wide-eyed and wondering. “You’re not one of those Oprah Winfrey Show tell-all types. They say it can be mighty hard to spot ’em nowadays.”

  “Come on, Dave, you know me better than that. I love women, women only. Besides, I’ve been on lockdown, not on the down-low.”

  Laughing, Dave nodded as he slapped Marvin on the shoulder. “Juuuust checking,” he teased. “Your daddy would be spinning in his grave if he knew the son he raised was acting like a daughter.” After he opened a can of soda and poured half of it in a drinking glass over ice, Dave tossed a questioning glance at Marvin. “Since you’re in it waist deep, you could probably use something stronger than this I’d imagine?”

  “Bartender’s choice,” Marvin told him. He stared at the dusty bottle retrieved from a special place beneath the bar.

  “This is a li’l something I keep for especially hard times. Me and your dad, we used to pour a taste when him and your momma were going through it,” he explained.

  “For real? I never heard a harsh word between them. So even the perfect couple had a rough go at keeping peace in paradise?”

  “Your folks were smart at being married, Marvin. They knew that a tiny bit of time apart could calm the waters enough to get back to smooth sailing, that’s why your daddy would come here and rest his bony butt right there on the same spot you’re occupying now. Uh-huh, Silas would come dragging in after a fight with Margaret doing the Married Man’s March like his shoes weighed thirty pounds apiece.”

  “Super-Dup’, I didn’t have any of this drama when I was single. I could always up and bounce if things got stupid.”

  “Yeah, but you’re grown now and living a grown man’s reality. Marvin, you have a beautiful wife who’d love you funky, broke or bald. For that alone, you are truly blessed and should be thinking on patching things up instead of seeing yourself without her. I was there when you stood in front of all those people saying how you was gonna love her through thick and thin, in good and bad times. Well, this here is one of those thin and bad times.”

  “Come on, Dave, whose side you on?”

  “Can’t you tell? Both of yours. I thought you knew, young brotha.”

  “You don’t know how it is. Even before this, Chandelle spent too much money and she was always twisting my words.”

  “Name me one woman who doesn’t do a world of both? That’s part of the package deal, son. Listen close on this one because I ran it down to your old man over thirty years ago, when you were just a gleam in his eye. Marvin, having a wife is a wonderful thing when matrimony is working right. You get to touch it, squeeze it, hug and love it, but then every now and then, you also got to listen to it. It’s not that bad a deal when you read the fine print.”

  Marvin hadn’t listened attentively until that point. “Hold on, fine print?”

  “Sure, you know every contract has a gob of fine print at the bottom that nobody gives a care about until things get rocky and they want out of it. Working it out when it appears all is lost is that important because there’s nothing better than seeing the other side of a mountain once you’ve managed to climb it together. That is what you signed your name to, isn’t it?”

  “For a man who has never gotten close to signing his own contract, you sure do know a lot about it,” Marvin challenged, with a renewed smile.

  “Young buck, my constitution is too weak. Those who can, do, and those who can’t, talk about it. The conversation is on the house, but you owe me seven-fifty for the drink.”

  Marvin laid a twenty dollar bill on the bar. “Keep the tip. That’s the best drink I’ve ever had. It was very sobering. Thanks, Dave, and thank you for helping my folks stay together too.”

  Dave raised the bill above his head to examine its authenticity. “Juuuust checking,” he laughed.

  Marvin couldn’t wait to get back to the apartment and sit down with Chandelle, hash things out, and share how much she meant to him and how he couldn’t envision life without her. He was also anxious to put his pride in check and tell her why he’d been distant—how he’d been terrified of a home mortgage far and above their means. All of that was behind him, he thought, as he looked forward to climbing his mountain with her by his side.

  When Marvin turned the doorknob, he expected to find Chandelle sitting on the sofa, waiting for him to come home and begin patching up the holes in their relationship. The moment he flicked on the light switch inside the apartment, surprise hijacked him and slapped him with a dose of a new reality. There’d be no dutiful wife waiting on his arrival, no immediate patchwork or makeup sex to smooth things over. The havoc-ridden apartment was filled with mere remnants of what Chandelle left behind, his clothes and her wrath.

  14

  Somebody Slap Me

  If there was ever a day to avoid work and call in tired, Thursday was it. Chandelle had been up all night putting away her belongings in the new house. She sorted out her dress clothes and shoes in the massive walk-in closet. It was easy to say how pleasant it was to have a 3,500-square foot, five-bedroom home all to he
rself, but it was another thing altogether believing it. Posh carpeting and a state-of-the-art alarm system didn’t nearly offer the comfort and security she enjoyed in the small apartment with Marvin. But Chandelle kept on telling herself that she was better off regardless. The hardwood floor on the lower level, crafted in an expensive parquet arrangement, each of the three full baths exquisitely decorated by the past owner, and the covered patio were all on her must-have list. However, a loving husband to share it with didn’t appear on it anywhere. She was living in her own prison without bars or guards. One she’d created unwittingly with Dior’s devious assistance. One she’d grown to despise and stand a good chance of losing.

  In the noon hour, the first of many delivery trucks rolled in front of Chandelle’s lavish abode. Steinman’s Furniture arrived with her order as promised. She was once again ordering strong men around like a circus elephant trainer. “Put that there,” she instructed. “No! On second thought, move the sofa and love seat to the other living room,” she yelled, unsteady on all of her directives. By the time the delivery men escaped, Chandelle was just as exhausted as they were. She’d never seen three men drive away so fast. After the television satellite installer showed up, a half hour late, she berated him until he completed the job and took off like a shot too. When a set of major appliances arrived, Chandelle threw a fit. The side-by-side refrigerator was too large and the dishwasher didn’t match her kitchen décor. “Well, I don’t care what I ordered,” she spat viciously. “It doesn’t look like the one in the catalog, the color is wrong and I’m not paying for it, so y’all can take it back to wherever you got it from.” Reluctantly, the men carried the heavy machines back onto the truck. Neither of them had the nerve to hang around for a tip.

  Alone again and hating it, Chandelle couldn’t stand the expanse of space. She pulled a cell phone out of her purse and stared at the screen. “Shoot, no messages,” she growled. “I don’t know why I would even think Marvin tried to reach me. He’s probably working too hard selling people the right size appliances and in the right color.” Just as a trace of a smile tickled her lips, she grabbed her jacket and keys off the brand new beveled glass coffee table and struck out to feed her curiosity. “I know another place they sell what I need.”

  Chandelle was off to Appliance World with two goals in mind. First, she wanted to get a reaction from Marvin when she sashayed into the store. She’d planned on purchasing replacements for the frig and dishwasher she had returned, and then rub Marvin’s nose in it. If he caused a scene and acted up, she was prepared for that too. Under no circumstances would she fly off the handle. Chandelle was above that, she’d convinced herself, since becoming a responsible homeowner. Her other goal was one she wouldn’t readily admit because it was harder than she’d imagined being away from Marvin. The love she’d held for him wasn’t as easy to replace as the kitchen appliances. Her husband used to fit perfectly and he came in her favorite color.

  With an extra order of wiggle in her stride, Chandelle entered Marvin’s former workplace like she owned it. Her spirits were riding high while her intentions scraped the bottom. “Hey, Reeka,” she said, greeting one of the only female sales staff members. “Where’s…I mean, it looks a little slow today.” Chandelle craned her neck and peered past Reeka so often that the employee began looking over her shoulder as well.

  “What…are we looking for, Chandelle?” Reeka asked, knowing it couldn’t have been Marvin, seeing as how she was the cause of his termination.

  “Nothing, girl, I was just trying to see where y’all’s kitchen display was,” she said, continuing to scan the showroom.

  “You’re shopping here?” Reeka queried suspiciously. “Okay, I guess I can ask Mr. Mercer if he’ll still let you have the friends and family discount.”

  Suddenly, Chandelle was more interested in one of Reeka’s words than all off the gadgets in the entire store. “Excuse me, but you said still. What did you mean by still? Marvin is still my husband, so I’m still entitled.”

  “Huh, you act as if you don’t know Marvin was fired the day after you put your little call in and dimed him out to Mr. Mercer,” was Reeka’s catty response. When Chandelle’s face hit the floor she realized the news hadn’t made it home. “Oops,” Reeka added as an exclamation point to Chandelle’s befuddlement, “I thought you knew.”

  “Obviously I should have,” was Chandelle’s humble reply. She had just begun to regret making a lot of decisions. She looked around, noticing that each of the associates was mean-mugging her. “Okay, that explains the dirty looks.”

  “What we want to know is why the dirty tricks? I mean Marvin is a good guy. You can’t make us believe he jumped on you.”

  Chandelle lowered her head and cinched the zipper on her Chloe handbag. “I don’t care what you believe and care less about how you feel about me,” she offered assertively. “I guess I’m in the wrong place. There’s nothing here I want.”

  “I could have told you that before you strutted up in here,” Reeka told her plainly. “Girl, you’ve got a good one. Get your business straight.”

  “You need to manage your own,” Chandelle warned.

  Reeka smirked. “That’s funny,” she answered, “coming from you.”

  “I think this is a good time for you to leave, Chandelle,” the owner strongly suggested, stepping in front of Reeka. “We’re extremely busy today.”

  Chandelle bolted through the parking lot in a royal huff. “Who does Reeka think she is,” she vented. “Trying to tell me about my husband and all up in my biz. I ought to go back in there and turn it out. That’s what I ought to do. They don’t know about me.” Her handbag rang as she seethed in the parking lot. “What?” she answered rudely.

  “Ooh, see I was about to hip you to something, but I don’t need ugliness in my afternoon,” Dior fussed playfully. “I’ve had an ugly-free day ’til now so don’t jack it up.”

  “What do you want, Dior? I’m fresh out of money.”

  “So,” she hissed, “I’ve got plenty of cheese, but thanks for offering. I was calling to ask you to dinner when I stopped by this cute wine boutique they opened next to the grocery store on Skillman and Whitehurst, then before me very eyes, who do I see?”

  “I’m not trying to play any games, so you’ll have to tell me,” Chandelle stated quickly.

  “You’ll ruin the suspense, but here’s the lick. I saw Marvin go in. Yeah, I was about to run over and speak to him, you know, and see how my cousin-in-law is making out, but then I saw that chick who dropped him off from jail go in right behind him, like they wasn’t together, together. You know I want y’all to work things out, but somebody needs to get some answers about their affiliation because they’re getting way too chummy for my taste.” Dior held the phone. She could hear Chandelle fuming on the other end.

  Honestly enough, Dior had seen Marvin enter the grocery and Kim did enter the same store five minutes later, but it was pure coincidence and nothing like it was presented. However, Dior was ready to whip up additional lies to sabotage their sinking love boat if necessary. She had jotted down several of them while following Marvin that afternoon.

  “Yeah, it’s way past chummy for me too,” Chandelle said, venom dripping from her lips. “Stay there. If they leave together, call me back. I’m on my way.”

  15

  Fools in Love

  After four days of questioning every aspect of his life and how it could have turned on him so viciously, Marvin found himself wandering through the aisles at the supermarket. With two arms full of perishables to restock his barren pantry, a smile came over Marvin, when he literally bumped into Kim and her precious 4-year-old, Danni. “Ahh, I’m sorry, Miss,” he apologized, when turning directly into their shopping cart. Packages of chips and microwavable pasta dishes flew from his hands to litter the aisle.

  Danni squealed with delight. “Yay, tell him to do it again, mommy.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” Kim said to her daughter
as well as to him. “Marvin’s having a bad enough week as it is.”

  “Kim, I really am…” he started to say before she waggled her finger in his face.

  “No need for another sorry.” Actually, she was growing weary of apologies from a man who appeared to have it together before agreeing to house shop. “But did you honestly think that you’d make it to the checkout stand with all that?”

  Marvin chuckled. “Yeah, actually, I did. I figured, you know, that shopping for one might not require a cart.”

  Kim wrinkled her brow while Marvin collected his groceries off the floor. “Shopping for one?” she asked, as if it were a huge piece of a bigger puzzle.

  “That’s right. You couldn’t know what postjail has been like for me.”

  “Why don’t you put your things in my cart, in front of the boxes of Frosted Flakes,” she offered, “and I’ll let you in on a thing or two.” Much to the chagrin of an excitable child looking forward to another loaf of bread to go whizzing by her face, Marvin carefully placed his items inside of the wire cart, with big boxes of cold cereal separating his things from theirs. “Did Chandelle tell you that she came to see me earlier this week?” Kim inquired cautiously.

  “No, I haven’t spoken with her at all,” Marvin said with regret. “I’m not sure there’s anything we’d agree on discussing.”

  “Uh-huh, I thought that was about the size of it,” Kim said. “I got a call that Chandelle showed up at the office, huffing and puffing and accusing me of being on the down-down with you.”

  “Down-down?”

  “Yeah, that’s what Kristy called it, but I think she got the message confused. I’m sure Chandelle thought there was something between us. Obviously she found out I paid your bail and drew her own conclusions from there. Take it from me, not knowing about your husband is a monster to deal with.”