In The Cut

by Arlene Brathwaite

  “I’m going to have to call you back,” he said to the person on the other end of the line. He looked at his secretary like he was going to fire her.

  “Mr. Turner—”

  Byron quickly cut her off with a huff. “What are you doing here?” he asked Olivia.

  “You’re not returning my phone calls, your secretary refuses to tell me when you’re in. It’s like you’re avoiding me.”

  “It’s not like I’m avoiding you. I am. Anything you have to say, tell it to your lawyer and have him relay it to mine.” He spun on her and headed to his office.

  “Byron… please,” Olivia called after him.

  He turned and looked at her like she was an annoying gnat. Then he looked at his secretary. “Hold all my calls. Miss Martin and I have some business to discuss.”

  “Yes, Mr. Turner.”

  Byron cut his eyes at Olivia and walked toward his office. Olivia followed him in and started to sit down, but he stopped her.

  “Don’t, you’re not going to be here for long.”

  Olivia folded her arms and stared at him, as he folded his and slowly circled her.

  “All I wanted to do was work with you, make us a lot of money. That’s what I do. I make plenty money.”

  “Byron—”

  “Shut… the fuck… up!” he snapped.

  “You’re in my world, now. You have no say. All you do is listen, and if you want any kind of life, you will do exactly as I say. Am I clear?”

  Olivia was so hot with anger that her face was glowing. “I’m listening.”

  Byron stopped circling her and placed his hands behind his back as he dramatically walked to his office window and looked out. Without looking back at her he spoke. “What did you think you could gain by trying to black mail me?”

  “I had no idea this was going on.”

  “The girls work at your salon, fuck clients in your apartments, and you had no idea it was going on?”

  “I’m sitting on a gold mine, Byron. You know that. The last thing I would want to do is run a prostitution ring out of it.”

  “What does your husband think about all this?”

  Olivia was about to tell him the truth about the whole Clayton situation, but something told her that he would somehow try and use it against her. “We’re not speaking to each other right now.”

  “Does he know that you’re here, now?”

  “No.”

  “Seems to me that he doesn’t’ care what happens to you.” Olivia didn’t say anything.

  “Funny thing is, I do.” Byron finally turned around to face her. “When I look at you, I see money, and I like money.” He walked up on her. “But I also see someone who tried to fuck me, that… I don’t like.” He let his eyes freely roam over her before looking into her eyes. “Do you know where Nell’s is?”

  “It’s on 14th street.”

  “That’s where we’ll be eating tomorrow night.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Olivia said in a seething tone.

  “I’ll make it real easy for you to understand. I get on the phone, call my people at the Daily News and New York Post, they will print whatever I tell them to. Then I call my very close friend who plays golf with the police commissioner. The police will shut your spot down and arrest everyone and charge them with promoting prostitution.” He got right up in her face. “The only hair you’ll be cutting is the hair off of Big Bertha’s back in the prison bath hall.”

  Olivia took a step back. She tried her best to will her forming tears not to fall, but one did. She quickly turned away from him, but he grabbed her by the chin and made her face him.

  “Not so tough after all.”

  Olivia slapped his hand down and turned to leave. “Tomorrow night, eight o’clock, and don’t keep me waiting.”

  Olivia stormed out of his office. Her knees were threatening to give out on her and her stomach was shouting for her to find the nearest bathroom to throw up. Her mind was going in so many directions at once that she didn’t see the man standing in her path. She bumped into him, knocking his newspaper to the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, starting to bend down to pick it up.

  The man stopped her. “Don’t worry about it, Miss—”

  “Martin,” Olivia said looking into his hazel eyes.

  The man bent down and picked up his paper. “My name’s Dr. Whitman, please to meet you.” He stood about six feet. He wore a three-piece suit, and his shoulder-length dreds came down on either side of his face.

  “I’m kind of nervous. Got a big meeting with Mr. Turner,” he said sheepishly.

  Hearing Byron’s name reminded Olivia that she needed to hurry and look for that bathroom. Without another word she took off.

  Dr. Whitman watched her disappear around the corner, and then shrugged his shoulders.

  “Mr. Turner will see you now, Dr. Whitman,” the secretary said, hanging up her phone.

  Olivia put her finger in her ears as three of her brothers, Baby, Esther, Grace, Miki, Chuck, and Jordan all argued back and forth. The only thing they agreed on was that there wasn’t going to be any compromising with Byron. The girls wanted to call up some people that they knew at the newspapers and magazines and run counter articles to whatever Byron may be putting out. The men couldn’t decide if they should kill him fast or kill him slow. Mike already paid Lynise, Renee, and Simone a visit. After his long talk with them, there was no one in the universe who could force a confession out of them. What they did in those apartments would be taken to their graves.

  Olivia told them everything that happened with her meeting with Byron. Everything but the date she had with him at eight o’clock this evening. She looked at her watch, it was four-thirty, and they still hadn’t come up with a viable solution.

  Olivia finally held her hand up. “Enough! We’ve been going at it since one o’clock. My head is pounding, I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and all this yelling isn’t helping.” She got up to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Grace asked.

  “Home.”

  “What about this situation?” Mike asked.

  “I don’t have the strength to continue today. Tomorrow is another day.”

  “We can’t keep putting this off,” David said.

  Olivia left.

  Grace ran up behind her. “Olivia, Glenn made me promise not to tell you, but I can’t just sit here and watch you stress like this.”

  “Promise not to tell me what?”

  Grace grabbed her hand and spoke low. “He talked to Clayton.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He swore to me that Clayton could make all this go away.”

  Olivia shook her head. “Grace, I don’t need him trying to butt in and make things worst. Call Glenn and tell him I said to tell Clayton to stay out of this.”

  “Olivia, what are we going to do?”

  “Right now, I’m going home.” Olivia knew she was going to meet Byron tonight. And she knew that she wasn’t going to let him take advantage of her. What she didn’t know was how she was going to stop him from doing that.

  After a piping hot shower and a long cry, Olivia began getting ready for tonight. She was wearing a simple dress, nothing tight or insinuating. She’d accepted the fact that Byron may be trying to take everything from her, but the one thing he wasn’t going to take was her dignity.

  She looked at herself one last time in the mirror before leaving.

  When she walked into Nell’s she felt her palms getting sweaty. There, in the corner, Byron was sitting at a table, running his fingers down the side of his glass. When he saw her, he started smiling like a shark. The closer she got to him, the wider his smile seem to become. It was almost as if he was nervous.

  “Glad you could make it,” he said, pulling out her seat.

  Olivia rolled her eyes at him as she sat down. She eyed the extra seat at the table.

  “You expecting someone else?”

  “Y
ou got jokes, huh?” Byron smiled nervously.

  Olivia jumped when she felt a pair of strong hands rest on her shoulders.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Saint said, kissing her on the cheek. “What I tell you, huh?” he said to Byron as he sat down. “Didn’t I tell you she’s more punctual than an atomic clock?”

  “Byron—” Olivia started to say, but he cut her off.

  “Olivia, first, let me just say that the way that I handled this whole ordeal was totally out of line.”

  Olivia blinked to make sure that the man sitting in front of her was in fact Byron.

  “When I got those pictures and that extortion note, I freaked out. I should’ve known from our working relationship that you would’ve never sanctioned anything like that. I would like to humbly apologize for my harsh words and my jumping to conclusions.”

  “That’s it?” she asked in shock. “You were talking about suing, and destroying me.”

  Byron stirred in his seat and smiled nervously at Saint. “Like I said, I was upset. I said those things in the heat of the moment.”

  Olivia looked at Saint.

  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a three page statement. “See, baby, he even typed up a statement applauding Butta Cutz and it’s employees, and praising your strict professionalism. And,” Saint reached into his other pocket, “Bryon was kind enough to void all the contracts that you signed with him to open up Butta Cutz in different locations.”

  Olivia snatched the contracts from Saint and inspected them.

  “So, we’re cool, right?” Byron asked, but it was more like a plea.

  “I want to know what happened from when I left your office yesterday until now,” Olivia said, putting the contracts on the table.

  “Your husband, truly cares about you, Olivia. He’s shown me that.” Byron stood up to leave. “Mr. Andrews,” he said extending his hand.

  Saint shook it a little longer than customary.

  Byron bowed his head to Olivia and then exited the building like it was on fire.

  Olivia stared at Saint. She had forgotten how good he looked. Saint cleared his throat and stood.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “Home? You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.”

  “Good night, Olivia.”

  She followed him outside. “Clayton! Don’t walk away from me.”

  “I’m not walking away from you. You’re following me.”

  She grabbed him by the shoulder and walked in front of him. “Why would you do this for me, after the way we separated?”

  “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me.”

  “For you? What did you get out of it?”

  “None of your business.”

  “You’re not an accountant. Who are you, really?”

  “Saint leaned down and whispered in her ear. “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.” Olivia’s mouth dropped. Saint laughed. “I’m just fucking with you. Go home, get some sleep.” He walked across the street toward where he parked. He sighed when he heard Olivia running up on him. “Olivia—” He gasped as he felt her snatch his wallet out of his back pocket. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  Olivia opened it and started looking for his identification. Saint made a lazy attempt at snatching it. Olivia backed up. She found his driver’s license, Clayton Andrews. Credit cards, Clayton Andrews.

  He grabbed her wrist and took his wallet from her, but not before her fingers latched onto a photo ID.

  “Clayton Andrews, teacher, at the Adult Learning Center.”

  She looked up at him. “What is this?”

  Saint snatched it from her.

  “You’re a teacher?” She asked, following him.

  “Yes, I’m a math teacher. I’m not an accountant. I told you I worked with numbers, you assumed I was an accountant, and I didn’t correct your assumption.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “You thought I wouldn’t be interested in a math teacher?”

  “Would you?”

  “Hell, no, but after being with you…” She inched closer to him.

  Saint stopped her in her tracks. “My life… it’s very complicated.”

  “You’re a school teacher. How complicated can it be?”

  He put his head down.

  “It’s Josephine, isn’t it?” She could see him tense up at the mention of her name. “The first time I mentioned her name to you, you turned rigid. Do you still love her?”

  “Yes,” Saint whispered. “She… we have a bond neither one of us could ever walk away from.”

  Olivia put her head down.

  Saint placed his hand on her chin and picked her head up. “I feel like God created you just for me, but…” His words got stuck in his throat.

  Olivia allowed her hands to rest on his. “I still owe you a haircut.”

  “Yes, you do.” Saint caressed her face before turning to leave. “So, you’re not going to tell me what you did to Byron?”

  A sinister smile crept across his face. “All I did was let him know that nobody threatens my wife and gets away with it.”

  Saint took one more look at her before climbing into his car and driving off. Damn, she looked so good. It took every ounce of his discipline not to take her in his arms and kiss her passionately. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror and smiled. He had told the truth again. She now knew that he was a math teacher. And, she was still willing to get with him. But where was all this truth telling getting him? He still couldn’t get with her. He chuckled “That’s fucked up,” he said out loud. “Love is supposed to bring people closer together. When you love someone, you have to push them away.”

  “I don’t love her, I don’t know her like that.”

  “You’re talking to yourself, remember? So, I know how you feel about her.”

  “Never could lie to myself, huh?”

  “You’ve tried, and you almost had me a couple times, but lying to yourself is a lot harder than lying to someone else.”

  Saint’s cell phone rang. It was Olivia. He gripped it, telling himself that answering it would be a bad idea. He answered it anyway.

  “Hello.”

  “I need to see you tomorrow at the salon.”

  “Olivia—”

  “Please, Clayton, I really need to say something to you, face to face.”

  “I don’t know, Olivia.”

  “Please, Clayton.”

  He gritted his teeth.

  “Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. I’ll come by after work.” Saint could feel her smiling. “I know you’re smiling, what are you smiling at?”

  “You remind me of a super hero. Math teacher by day, and multi-lingual hustler by night.”

  “Good night, Olivia.”

  “Good night, Clayton.”

  Chapter 9

  As Saint pulled into the Adult Learning Center’s parking lot, his phone vibrated.

  “What’s up, Glenn?”

  “I love you, man.”

  “I’m hanging up.”

  “I’m at Butta Cutz. Olivia told everybody the good news. The girls are planning on throwing you a surprise party, but don’t tell Olivia I told you, it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  “I’ll try and act surprised.”

  “Saint… she’s really feeling you. She’s prancing around, telling everybody how you put the fear of God in Byron. She even gave Baby that raise she’s been promising her for months.”

  “We don’t have a future together, Glenn, so don’t take it there.”

  “You told her you were a math teacher.”

  “No I didn’t. She snatched my wallet and saw my ID before I could stop her.”

  “Bullshit! You’re not that sloppy.”

  Saint smiled. “I got to go.”

  “Olivia said you were dropping by later on.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there after work.”

 
“Jon-Jon finally showed his face. He told Olivia what you did to him, thinking she would be mad, and she told him if she was there, she would’ve told you to break both his arms.”

  “Talk to you later on, Glenn.” Saint hung up and exited his car. As he headed up the stairs, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up like antennas. He had a layout of the Center, the parking lot, and the surrounding area etched into his mind. The scenery had changed. An old, beige, van with tinted windows was parked across the street. Without turning around to alert anyone who may be watching him, he headed inside and went straight to Principal Baker’s office.

  “Hi, Karen,” he said to Baker’s secretary. “Is he in?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “I really need to speak with him for a moment.”

  “Sure, one minute.” She got on the phone. “Mr. Baker… yes, Mr. Andrews would like to speak with you…” She hung up. “Go right in.”

  Baker was seated behind his desk, going over some paperwork.

  “Good morning, Mr. Andrews.”

  “Good morning, sir. I wanted to add a name to the students who will be taking the GED test.”

  Baker cleared his throat. “Uh, it’s too late. The cut off point was last week.”

  Saint snapped his fingers. “Yes, you’re right. Oh, well. Sorry to have bothered you.” Saint extended his hand. He purposely held his hand an inch out of reach. Baker shifted in his chair and reached for it. That’s when he saw it. In an air conditioned room, Baker’s hand was wetter than the ocean’s floor and he had two gigantic sweat stains beneath his underarms. He had been talked to.

  Saint turned to leave.

  “Mr. Andrews.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your students… they’ve come a long way.”

  “Yes, they have.”

  “I had a talk with them earlier, expressing my delight with them. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of dismissing them for the day.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, it’s the summer vacation, for Christ’s sake. I figured a day off would show them that good grades are appreciated.”

  “That was very generous of you.”

  “It was the least I could do. As a matter of fact, why don’t you take the day off? Your class isn’t here, so you shouldn’t be either.”