Next week, she planned to move into her new house near George Washington University, alone. While she and Bill both still cared for each other in their own way, this passionless existence between them was no longer enough for her. In the beginning, Bill had been funny and attentive, but over the years he had become closed off emotionally and she did not know why. She would always hold feelings for Bill, but she now knew that he was not her true love. For these reasons she planned to go through with the divorce proceedings even though he said he didn’t want her to. She had sacrificed for too long who she was to please others. The dispassionate and guarded persona that Aunt Clara had clothed her in during her childhood did not fit any longer. Life was too short to live without happiness.
Renee had failed to create the perfect ‘white picket-fenced’ family that she had always wanted—a loving couple and happy children. She might not ever be able to offer the baby girl that she had delivered yesterday a traditional home with both a mother and father present, but she could offer all of her love. Renee had always yearned for what she perceived as the ideal family although she had never experienced it herself as a child. Perhaps that’s why she came to regard it as the ideal. Should she deny this to another child? All she could guarantee the child was her own love, nurturing, and security. If only she could be sure that would be enough. What she needed right now was to be with Deek and feel his arms around her. All these other decisions and uncertainties could wait. Ever since their kiss yesterday in the church’s private sanctuary in the basement, Renee couldn’t get Deek out of her mind.
Renee now understood what kind of man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She wanted a man who was secure with his manhood, one who knew what he wanted and was not afraid to unleash passion with his whole heart and soul to the woman he loved. Fear of rejection would not frighten such a man because he would be confident and sure of his desires. There was only one man she knew of who fit that description, Deek.
Thinking of him made her feel playful and sexy. She reached into the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out a sheer, Swiss-dot, black chemise. When she put it on just for fun, the lingerie showed off her sexy, hourglass shape and accentuated her large breasts. The lettuce edged hem just barely skimmed her derriere. She slipped her legs through its matching thong and immediately felt wicked. A pale-jade pendant encircled with green peridot semi-precious stones and matching drop earrings, that had been her mother’s, glowed against her brown skin. A pair of black, ankle-strapped high heels completed the look, and she felt transformed into a beautiful adventurous woman, full of passion.
Dreaming and fantasizing about Deek wouldn’t satisfy her any longer. Renee picked up the phone and punched the first five digits of his telephone number then slammed the phone down. Her heart beat excitedly. It wasn’t like her to openly display her emotions and sexual needs. But if she didn’t take a proactive approach to show Deek how much she wanted him perhaps some other sweet, young thing would—someone like Ana Santos who had been working closely with him for several months. Ana Santos did not bother to hide her attraction to him. Renee picked up the phone again and this time dialed her driver, Remy. While she waited for Remy to arrive she quickly tossed a few essentials in an overnight bag. She hoped Deek wouldn’t be angry with her for showing up at his place so late without warning. But if she called first she knew she would not have the nerve to go through with this plan once she heard his voice. She hoped it wasn’t too late to finally reveal her true desire for him.
Twenty minutes later, she heard the doorbell ring. Renee removed her mother’s full-length, dark chestnut mink coat from its plastic, dry cleaning bag, and wrapped the fur coat around her scantily clad body. The fur felt warm and luxurious next to her bare skin. She took one last look in the foyer mirror for encouragement before opening the front door. Remy’s moon-shaped, dark cocoa tinted face displayed his usual white, toothy grin. Her Nigerian driver wore his typical, chauffeur’s uniform—a bargain-priced, dark suit with an obvious sheen to its texture, crisp white shirt and tie. Remy offered his elbow and escorted her to the car. Both being 5 feet 4 inches tall, she usually met him eye-to-eye but in three-inch heels Renee towered over him. Remy opened the door of his black sedan then she carefully climbed in the backseat. Since meeting Remy Adu two years ago from a colleague, Renee could always count on her driver to talk nonstop. But this time she didn’t mind. His banter distracted her from thinking about visiting Deek’s home unannounced wearing nothing but a see-through chemise and thong under her coat. She had never initiated anything this bold with him before. Deek had always been the one pursuing her and usually receiving mixed messages for his trouble.
Listening to Remy talk about his childhood in Lagos Calebar and the odd jobs he had in college before starting his limo service helped her relax. For a few minutes, she forgot her nervousness about Deek’s reaction to her visit. She had heard most of Remy’s stories before but he never remembered what he told people and seemed to enjoy the storytelling. All she had to do was respond with an occasional “Uh huh” or “Really?” to encourage him to keep talking. Remy bobbed to the cheerful music bursting from his CD player that he described as African Sukous and Makossa tunes from Cameroon.
When Remy announced that 23rd and Alabama Avenue was just a few blocks ahead, Renee started to get anxious once more. She clasped her hands together in her lap and realized they felt like sandpaper. In her nervousness and rush to leave the house, she forgot to put on Saphir, her favorite French perfumed lotion. Remy stopped in front of Deek’s house and she could see that his lights upstairs were on. Out of desperation, she asked Remy if he had any lotion because her hands were dry and she had forgotten to pack lotion in her purse. Remy fumbled in the glove compartment in a near pitch dark car until he found a small bottle and handed it to her. She couldn’t see the bottle but it felt like oil so she rubbed it liberally on her hands, the crevice of her breasts, neck and behind her ears. Then took a depth breath to calm down. Suddenly, after applying what she assumed to be oil, a strong, pungent smell of cheap, men’s cologne permeated her senses and filled the car.
“Remy, what is this?” she shrieked and placed the open bottle to her nose.
“Is it not lotion, Doctor Hayes?” he asked innocently.
“No, Remy. It smells like men’s cologne, even worse it reeks of Brute! What am I going to do now? I smell like a man.”
And not even one wearing something pleasant like a KL or Davidorf scent that she could possibly pull off if Deek had been drinking heavily that evening. No scent was better than Brute. At that moment she panicked and thought this was a bad sign of things to come. She should just ask Remy to turn right around and drive her back home. He apologized for accidentally giving her his cologne instead of lotion. She couldn’t really blame him. It was her fault for not smelling the damn stuff before dosing it all over herself. There was no time to discuss the mistake because Remy was getting out to open her door. She mentally re-grouped and decided that as soon as she got inside the house she’d ask Deek where the powder room was so she could scrub the cologne off. Remy held out his hand for her to exit and she climbed out the car.
“Would you need me to come back later to pick you up, Dr. Hayes?”
“No, Remy but can you please wait here in the car for about ten minutes. If I don’t come back then it’s okay to leave.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said.
Renee opened her purse and paid him for the ride and the extra time to sit parked out front of Deek’s house until she could determine if this was a good idea or a serious mistake in judgment. Renee stood on the steps for several seconds and contemplated leaving before pressing the buzzer. Just as she was about to turn around and head back to the sedan, Deek appeared at the door wearing an army-green Polo Ralph Lauren ribbed T-shirt and stretch-cotton boxer-styled underwear that barely reached mid-thigh. She fought the urge to stare down at the peekaboo crotch opening that coul
dn’t hide much on Deek, but instead studied his sleepy eyes. Though somewhat drowsy, he looked surprised yet happy to see her. For a moment she felt her legs weakening from the arousing scent of his cologne, a light combination of spices that immediately drew her in.
“I … I shouldn’t be here,” she finally blurted out, “You were already in bed. Forgive me, Deek …”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her inside then re-bolted the door shut. As he reached for her coat, Renee pulled back.
“May I use your bathroom, please?” she asked hurriedly. Hopefully, he hadn't yet noticed that she smelled like cheap men’s cologne from CVS drugstore, on sale at two for $5.00. If he thought she was crazy, he didn't show it.
“Of course,” he said and pointed to the powder room down the hall.
Renee almost ran inside the bathroom and locked the door. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She admonished herself repeatedly as the hot water filled the basin. She wanted the water to reach boiling point if she could stand it. How else was she going to get that horrible smell out of her skin? Renee took off her coat and drenched a hand towel in the water. Fortunately, there was a bar of pleasantly, scented soap on the sink and she rubbed it on the dripping, wet towel until the suds reached the top of the basin. To avoid getting her skimpy chemise wet, she slipped it from her shoulders and washed her arms, chest, neck and every inch of skin that Remy’s Brute cologne had sullied. She re-applied the soapy towel again and again until she could no longer smell the men’s cologne.
When she stopped splashing and running water, she could hear a faint sound of jazz music outside the bathroom door. Renee dried off quickly with another hand towel, fixed her lingerie, and put her fur coat back on then clamped it shut from top to bottom. She wasn’t ready to reveal her intentions just yet. She realized that by now Remy must have left so there was no turning back.
When she stepped from the bathroom, she saw that Deek had covered up with a green and maroon, plaid silk robe tied at the waist. He lay stretched out on an off-white leather recliner with his head leaning back, eyes closed and feet propped up on the ottoman. The brightest light came from the fire in the living room and it cast a soothing glow across the darkened room. A full glass of champagne waited for her on a large coffee table that also held a chess board with a game in progress. Next to the chess board sat two books, Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama and A Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela. When she approached he slowly opened his eyes and smiled. He rose and leaned close to her. She thought he was about to kiss her. Instead, he placed his warm lips tenderly on her cheek and held out his hand for her coat. “Here, let me take your coat. Sit down and stay awhile,” he said in a soft-spoken, sexy voice.
Renee stepped back and pulled her coat together. “In a minute, Deek. I’m still a bit chilly.” She sat down in an armchair near the couch and suddenly felt foolish showing up unannounced and virtually naked under her coat. She would need a little more time to relax, though the music was beginning to ease her tension. “What are you listening to?” she asked and picked up the champagne flute from the coffee table and took a large gulp, hoping the alcohol would relieve her uneasiness at showing up uninvited.
Deek sat down across from her, rested his elbow on the arm of the coach and smiled. “A little mellowing out Miles,” he said as he nodded to the rhythm of the music.
Renee closed her eyes in deep concentration as she listened. “That sounds like something my Dad might have listened to when I was growing up but I don’t remember the name of it,” she said and swayed her head to the melody.
“That’s ‘Flamenco Sketches’ playing now. Out of Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue CD.”
“Oh yeah, I do remember that tune now. I was very young but my Dad used to listen to it over and over again.”
“There’s not a bad track on that album. It’s a classic,” said Deek. “And, Bill Evans’ sensitive piano is such an intricate part to me.” He repositioned himself on the coach and leaned back with one leg stretched across the length of the sofa.
“Yes, it’s nice and mellow. I like it. I can see you’re quite the jazz aficionado,” said Renee, noticing that he wore only his underwear beneath the loosely belted robe.
“Well, I don’t know how much of a jazz fanatic I am. I just know what I like,” he said and gave her a smile of approval.
Renee took a deep breathe and drank another generous swallow of her champagne. Just as she unclamped the first hook at the neck of her fur coat, the doorbell rang. Deek glanced at the clock above the fireplace ledge and got up to answer it. Renee hoped it wasn’t her driver ringing to ask if she wanted to leave. It was now after ten o’clock. Who else besides herself would be visiting Deek at this hour? Suddenly, an unpleasant thought gripped at her stomach. Suppose it was Ana Santos, showing up unexpectedly with the same idea she had?
Chapter 36
When Renee heard Detective Mel Bradford’s loud voice and heavy feet coming down the hallway, she felt both relief and dread all at the same time. At least it wasn’t Ana Santos. She quickly re-clasped the top hook to her coat and looked around for a means of escape but there was none. Bradford grinned when he saw Renee sitting in the living room. She clutched the coat collar tightly about her neck as a feeling of alarm came over her. Suppose Bradford wouldn’t leave? Now she remembered why she never acted spontaneously.
“Looks like I interrupted something, kid,” he winked at Deek. “And, I see you got Miles playin’ in the background. Smart move. You can’t go wrong with Miles.”
Ignoring the obvious, Bradford proceeded to plop his large frame down on the leather recliner next to Renee. “You got any Scotch or Vodka, my man? I wanna run a coupla things by you about the Johnson case. And you’re not gonna believe what went down after you left. But I see you’re busy so I won’t stay long.”
“I’ve got Drambuie and Vodka, which do you want?”
“Surprise me, Young Blood.”
“Okay, but let me hang up Renee’s coat first. She just got here too. It’s a little chilly outside but I’m sure she’s warmed up by now,” said Deek, while reaching out to slip the coat from her shoulders. But before he could grab it, Renee leaned away and shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just keep it on a little longer.” Panic! This would be the last time she did anything on impulse. There was no escape.
To make matters worse, Deek pitched a few more logs in the fire. Fortunately, he didn’t see her wipe the sweat from her forehead.
“If you’d prefer something hot to drink like an Irish coffee or something I can make it while I’m in the kitchen,” he said, reaching for her glass, “I thought you might like the chilled champagne but …
Renee quickly scooped up the glass to prevent him from taking it. “No, nothing hot,” she said a bit too fast, “the champagne’s fine, thank you.”
When Deek disappeared into the kitchen, Bradford stared at her suspiciously. Renee got up from the armchair and sat down on the far edge of the sofa and wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if still cold. Gratefully, Deek returned quickly and offered Bradford a glass of Vodka. Deek stood by the fireplace with his arms folded.
“So what’s so urgent Mel that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” said Deek, “I’m really wiped out tonight.”
“Don’t be so damn impatient, Partner. I got an idea how we might nail the Johnson woman for that insurance scam she pulled nine years ago,” said Bradford, gulping down his drink.
Renee rolled her eyes upward to the ceiling as Bradford explained his plan. “Why don’t we pull the good cop/bad cop drill on her tomorrow during interrogation? Make her think we got something substantial so she’ll spill her guts and confess to get a plea bargain on both crimes. And, I’m not ruling out her odd-ball Mom who I finally met the other day as an accomplice. She’s a piece of work that one.”
“What makes you think she’d fall
for that routine, Mel? Everybody’s hip to it by now.”
“You’re right, most career criminals are wise to the game but I think Brenda Johnson’s naïve enough to fall for it,” said Bradford. “I'm having her picked up tomorrow morning. And since you say I don’t tell you what the hell I’m doing, I’m letting you know now. So I figured we’d go over our parts tonight.”
“Look Mel, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to wait another day before we take Mrs. Johnson in for interrogation. There’s something I want to check out first. Besides, I already told you I’m tired as hell. The last thing I feel like doing right now is rehearsing a good cop/bad cop scenario with you.”
“I get the hint, kid. I know a young ‘jitterbug’ like yourself needs his rest,” said Bradford, sarcastically then winked at Renee.
“Mel, I really wish you’d stop referring to me as young or a kid all the goddamn time. I’m a grown man just like you are. I’d appreciate some respect and I’d like you to call me by my given name.”
“Well, what the hell else are you then? You weren’t even born when Malcom, Martin, and the Kennedy brothers were shot? I bet you still can’t get a ‘Thirty & Over Club Card’ from Majic 102.3 radio station. Am I right?” Bradford grinned and tipped his glass in the air.
“I’ll be 29 in January. That’s only a few months away.”
“I rest my case, Degas. Is that respect enough for you?”
Blind Delusion Page 38
