Don't Ask My Neighbor

by Kristofer Clarke

  We were seated in a corner of the restaurant, which Jelani requested. The table was adorned with expensive Italian dinnerware on white tablecloth.

  “May I,” the waiter asked, staring down at me.

  He held a chilled bottle of Sanct Valentin in his hand. He filled the champagne glass that sat before Jelani, and then began to fill mine when I permitted. He ordered the wine while he waited on my arrival. He admitted he hadn’t been waiting too long. I opened my menu that sat on the table to our right, and took a glimpse at my choice of Italian specialties. English descriptions with their Italian translation, and everything sounded flavorsome. I was almost overwhelmed, except I had been to that establishment several times before; once for lunch with Parker, a date with Campbell, and another time to celebrate Cody’s birthday.

  “So, does the husband know where you are? I never heard you talk about him.”

  “Then I guess we don’t have to entertain your assumption, right? Good.” I took a sip from the glass. I sat it back on the table and then stared at the contents. “Mr. Graybourne, I’m almost positive we aren’t here to discuss nuptials that may or may not exist.” I took another taste from my glass and placed it back on the table to my left, folded my arms in front of me with my elbows resting on the table, and then leaned in closer. “Now, you invited me to dinner assuming I had some information on Ms. Wells, I’m sure. What exactly is it that you think I might be able to help you with?”

  “I don’t know much about you,” Mr. Graybourne began.

  “Let me fill you in,” I proposed. “I expected your memory to be much better, Mr. Graybourne.”

  “Let’s just say I have had other things on my mind.”

  “That has to be the understatement of the year.”

  He smiled.

  “So I take it my impending marriage to Samantha isn’t a secret.”

  “You couldn’t have expected her to keep that mission a secret, Mr. Graybourne. Sounds to me like you don’t even know the woman who’s wearing your ring.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, looking confused.

  It was hard to talk to this man and not stare at him. I could almost understand the lengths any woman would go to be in his presence. He took breaths away and made hearts skip beats without even trying, and it didn’t help that he came from money and power, though he never bragged about it.

  “It means you’ve been playing right into her perfect plan, and you don’t even know it.”

  Jelani sat back in his chair when the waiter approached and opened his menu. When the waiter asked if we had a chance to browse our menu, I ordered first, like Jelani suggested, choosing the baked clams and broiled salmon scampi. Jelani recited his choice without a hiccup: Crostini di Mozzarella, Cocktail di Gamberi Classico, and Assortimento Caldo. Apparently, he came to eat. After we handed the waiter our menus and he retreated to the kitchen area, we continued out conversation.

  “What plan could Samantha have devised?”

  “Let me guess. You think everything that has happened since she arrived is pure coincidence. Have you even stopped to think? She’s exact and calculating, and nothing that involves her just happens. They happen because she made sure they did.”

  “You talk about her as if she’s Jesus.”

  “No. That’s who you think she is. I know better. She’s a manipulative bitch who will do anything to get what she wants. Look! She wanted Mr. Lucas’ job, and she got it. She wanted the large office with the view, as if it was a penthouse in Manhattan overlooking Central Park in the fall, and she made sure that happened. She knew of Ryle’s previous involvement with his client Craig Wilson, and she kept that information to herself. She could have told him, but instead, because she knew it would destroy him, she presented that fact to the prosecutor. She used it only when she knew it would have been beneficial to her.”

  Mr. Graybourne sat back in his chair again. He looked confused, as I began to put the pieces of the puzzle together for him.

  “And if that wasn’t enough, she drove the final nail in his coffin with a bullshit rape charge. She was only relieved when you gave him the option of quitting or facing a trial. Now, it didn’t strike you as odd that she was so willing not to press charges? That’s because she finally had him out of the way.”

  “And Ryle could prove he didn’t rape her?”

  “Not only could he prove he didn’t rape her, he could also prove that the man she had sex with wasn’t him.”

  “That explained the conversation I overheard on Thursday when I went back to the office to surprise her. She and Ryle were in her office, and I stood there listening to him telling her she was going to tell me she couldn’t marry me. She kept saying ‘turn it off, turn’, but...”

  “Then she’s seen his proof. I tried to warn you, Mr. Graybourne,”

  “How so? And please, call me Jelani.” He removed his hands from the table, and allowed the waiter the place a large dinner plate in that space.

  “There’s something about cronyism that never sits well with me,” I began. Jelani was puzzled, but he suppressed any inclination to interrupt. “I showed up in your office a few years back to interview for a position you advertised. But Mr. Lucas informed me that a friend who was in a very precarious position, needed your help, and that the position had been filled. The friend who walked past me, boxes in hands, to begin her new position as your secretary was Samantha Wells.”

  “But you didn’t know who she was at the time, or did you?”

  “Unless you had been sleeping under a rock for the last years, you knew who Samantha was.”

  “So how did you end up answering phones and scheduling appointments for her?”

  “My guess is, she rummaged through several resumes you had on file and selected mine. She even interviewed me herself. After I was hired, she made sure she was the only woman working close to you. She even said you had given your approval. I didn’t question it, because, unbeknownst to her, she was putting me right where I wanted to be. Parker Chandler was given extra duties, extra pay as well, to work closely with me, and well, you know the rest.” I smiled.

  “And how exactly did that work out?”

  “Better than Samantha or Parker thought it would?”

  “Enlighten me, Ms. Hailey.”

  “It’s Ms. Covell. Ms. Kennalyn Covell.”

  I stared at him, anticipating his reaction. Jelani sat up in his chair, listening with purpose. His interest in my story had surpassed the hunger I thought consumed him when he gave his order. His long arms stretched across the table, gripping the stem of his wine glass.

  “Rule number one, Jelani,” I commenced.

  He nodded in the affirmative.

  “Know Thy enemy. Rule number two: keep your enemies even closer,” I continued, bringing the glass to my lips again. I looked across the table at Jelani as I drank. I had a pretty good idea what he would say next. Just like a man: so damned predictable.

  “So I am correct in saying you know more about Samantha than I suspect? And is this, working for Emanuel, Sullivan and Graybourne, your attempt to keep your enemy close?”

  “Mr. Graybourne.”

  “I thought we agreed on you calling me Jelani,” he corrected.

  “You’re throwing out a fishing line in deep, salt water. I don’t have personal reasons to keep Samantha close to me,” I lied. I wasn’t ready for complete disclosure with him just yet. “You, on the other hand, knew you couldn’t only keep one eye on her. But it seems like you fell in a deep coma. Samantha is obviously smart and beautiful. Her only anomaly, she is smart and beautiful. You know what women like her are capable of. You were taught well.”

  “Listen, she had an inside man. My take is it’s someone she had something on—a bit of information that was sure to ruin them should someone get wind of it.”

  “Let me guess, you want me to be your inside woman?” I laughed. “Don’t you know by now, that’s her mode of operation. And if she has nothing on you, she knows how t
o make you think she has something on you. Now, unless your nose has been clean, you knew you had nothing to worry about. But like I said, she has her way of getting you dirty. If there’s a single bone in your closet, you’re pretty much screwed. She knows just how to exploit it.”

  Until that statement, Jelani admitted he had never thought about Parker and how he might be involved in the tale Samantha had concocted. Parker was more of a “yes, man” than anything else. Jelani reflected on an intentional slip-of-the-tongue Samantha had about Parker being a pitcher and a catcher, and she wasn’t talking about baseball.

  “How well have you gotten to know Parker Chandler?”

  I thought about not answering him at first.

  “It’s not even about how well I know Parker. It’s a matter of how well your fiancé does.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Mr. Graybourne,” I paused and smiled. “I’m sorry. Jelani, may I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me whatever you want.”

  “Do you trust Samantha?”

  “I think you can answer that question for yourself. It’s safe to say if I trusted her, you and I wouldn’t be here having this conversation, now would we? Now what about Parker?”

  “That his carelessness gave Samantha the arsenal she needed on him.”

  “I’m sure you’re going to give me more than that?”

  “Well, at first, Parker would take a hot iron out of a fire if Samantha asked him to. So I needed to know what that was about. Turns out Samantha had something on him all right. One evening Parker and Kirk Taplin were in a conference room reviewing questions for an upcoming deposition. Samantha had left earlier but returned to retrieve a file she was supposed to organize for you. Let’s just say there was a little more than reviewing questions going on. The two were startled. The next day, Samantha had lunch with Parker. God only knows what they talked about, but my guess is, that’s where his involvement began.”

  “I never heard about this.”

  “Of course not. Look, Jelani, I think I’ve given you enough to at least guide you in the right direction. Does Parker have anything to do with Ryle getting framed for something he didn’t do? I can tell you he didn’t do it willingly. He did it because he had to make sure he didn’t lose his husband and child. You’d be surprised what things people would do to prevent from losing everything.”

  “I need you to do something for me,” Jelani asked.

  “Before I agree to do anything, you have to assure me my name won’t be mentioned when this shit hits the fan,” she pleaded. “Parker is my best friend, and a good person, and I don’t want to lose him because I’ve told you things I know he wanted to tell you and Ryle with his own mouth and words.”

  “You have my word. Besides, the only thing that’s going to be hitting any fan is the truth. Now, unless you are afraid of the truth, you have nothing to worry about.”

  I sighed in relief as I listened to Jelani’s directives.

  “You are still working on her award reception, correct?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not exactly. You have a little less than three weeks to pull it together. You should have the information in your email when you get to the office on Monday. Oh, and Felicia, at some point, after this is all over, we need to talk about this name thing.”

  He winked and smiled, and then raised his hand to get the waiters attention. When the waiter arrived, Jelani ordered another bottle of wine, and then asked for our dinner to be reheated. It was after 11 p.m. before Jelani and I would leave Appetito. On my way home, I thought about work on Monday, something I don’t usually do on the weekend, and my new relationship with Jelani Graybourne. I now had something else to add to my growing list of pretense.

  Twenty-Five

  _________

  What Should I tell Him?

  Samantha

  THAT’S WHAT IT USUALLY MEANS WHEN you give someone a key to your house: you don’t have to call before coming over, even if they’re not home. For whatever reason, Jelani couldn’t quite get the hang of it. Maybe he had been out of the dating game too long and didn’t remember exactly how a relationship worked. Although I’ve told him before, he still rang the bell before inserting his key and letting himself in, as if he was giving me some sort of warning. I’m not sure what he thought he would walk into if he didn’t enter with caution.

  This was Jelani’s normal Saturday routine—an early morning at the office, working diligently on an upcoming case, usually writing and rehearsing his opening statement. He was such a perfectionist. He said the quiet in the office on an early Saturday morning was just what he needed to concentrate, plus it helped that I was home and not in my office around the corner being a close distraction, though his thoughts of me were equally distracting. He usually gave himself a deadline, two weeks before the trial began.

  “Hmm…” Jelani greeted as he walked past the living room and into the kitchen. He carried a bouquet in his hand.

  He returned to the living room and sat on the coffee table directly in front of me. He removed his Movado luno bracelet wristwatch and placed it on the table next to him, smiled, and then grabbed the sides of my face in his hands. He kissed me, hard at first, moving his thumb up and down my cheeks. When he wasn’t holding my tongue between his lips, he held my lip between his lips. Then his kisses waned without warning, and his focus trailed from my eyes.

  “What?” I questioned, shyly pulling away from him.

  “You must be putting the same moves on someone else,” Jelani commented with a smile, kissing me on the back of my neck. I sat in the living room, on the couch, sandwiched between two gold throw pillows.

  “What are you talking about? My moves are reserved for you,” I answered, sliding from the couch. “And you can’t act like I’m not good at what I do.” I kissed his lips and smiled.

  “One dozen long stem red roses. Tiffany sierra square vase,” Jelani summarized.

  “And you might as well tell me what you wrote on the card, ‘cause I know it’s from you, even though you know roses are not my favorite,” I laughed, playfully pushing Jelani on his right shoulder.

  I slowly got up from the couch, kissed him on his forehead, and then skipped to the kitchen like a schoolgirl.

  “They were outside when I got here. I figured you haven’t been outside all day, so I brought them in from the elements.”

  “Whatever, Jelani. Don’t you think they would have rung the bell? They wouldn’t just leave it out there unless they knew I wasn’t home.”

  “Well, maybe they rang the bell and you didn’t hear.”

  “I doubt that,” I said, bringing one of the roses to my nose.

  Jelani had carefully placed the vase in the center on the island. The roses were beautiful, and seemed to have been handled with the best care. As I inspected them, not a single petal seemed to be missing. The roses had been sprayed with Flora, a scent not unfamiliar to me. I stood with the tiny envelope in my hand as apprehension filled my throat. What if Jelani didn’t send these? I thought. I hadn’t said anything to him about my encounter with Ryle. Since then, I’ve paced morning and night, trying to figure out what I was going to say to Jelani. I’ve been on guard around him, nervous whenever my phone rang, nervous, praying it wasn’t Ryle before I answered. What if this was Ryle’s final warning about marrying Jelani? Not only was I still deciding if I would tell Jelani, I was also deciding how I was going to spin the story so that it still worked in my favor.

  “Well,” Jelani interrupted. He stood leaning against one side of the entryway, his hands in both pockets, and his feet crossed at the ankles. He had as much interest in the note on the card as I did.

  “What?” I responded without even glancing in his direction.

  “Don’t you want to know who sent them? You’re standing there like you’re expecting some bad news. They’re roses, Samantha,” he laughed. “No one sends roses with bad news.”

  With the last few days I’v
e had, I disagreed, but kept my thoughts to myself and obliged. I slowly removed the card from the envelope. Helplessly, my heart began to race. I could feel a level of agitation rising from the pit of my stomach. A desert-like sensation overcame me as I searched for saliva I could swallow to calm down. I tried to control my reaction, knowing Jelani stood there ready to scrutinize my response.

  What are you going to tell him now? I’m sure you haven’t told him everything yet. I read. You think you have him wrapped around your finger. He will see you for the deceitful, reviled bitch you are, and everything you think is yours now won’t be for too long. PS. Make sure you tell him about the baby and Donor 17562. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. V.I.M. P.S., I’m not who you think I am.

  I stood speechless with my eyes fixed on the initials V.I.M., and in that instant, I didn’t have to scan too far into my memory museum to know who those initials belonged to. I blocked everything out, including Jelani, who still stood in the doorway, watching me transform. I’m not who you think I am. I guess that was supposed to throw me off. I thought. How could he have found out? His face flashed before my eyes, a scene from a damned good scary movie, except this movie was my life. I could see him with that “gotcha” smirk across his face. I thought I’d heard the last of him.

  “My guess is, they’re not from me, are they?” Jelani asked, breaking the silence that had befallen.

  I knew then, I was caught. I was sure he expected an explanation, but what the hell was I going to say. I took a deep breath and composed myself.

  “No.” I paused. “They’re not from you. Though I wished they were,” I continued, replacing my moment of fear with a smile I thought would erase everything that had transpired.

  Jelani remained silent, offering me the opportunity to share the horrid message written by the sender, since my reaction gave him reasons to think it wasn’t an invitation to sip wine and sing a verse of “Cum by Ya” on the golden brown sand of Kapalua Beach in Maui.