Betrayal

by Dwayne S. Joseph

  Tre raised an eyebrow. Lisa had liked to use the word “us” too. “Did he say something to you?”

  “No.”

  Tre thought about the deal he’d made with Jewell. Fifteen thousand dollars to allow a photographer into his home to snap shots of Sapphire riding him. He had a set in his desk drawer at home. His head was cut off, as was the agreement between him and Jewell. He never asked, and didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t help but wonder now what Jewell had done with the pictures.

  Had she shown them to her father? If so, with his head being cut off, the only way he would have known Tre’s identity would have been for Jewell to have given him up.

  They were at the restaurant, but he’d never been approached.

  “Don’t you think if your husband knew anything he would have said something?”

  Sapphire exhaled heavily. “Maybe . . . I . . . I don’t know.”

  Tre flared his nostrils. He wanted to get back to his meditating. “If I were married and I knew my wife was stepping out on me, I’d say something to her and I damn sure would say and do something to the other guy. I don’t know many men that wouldn’t. Is your husband the type of man to not do anything?”

  Sapphire closed and opened her eyes slowly. “No,” she said easily. “Knowing Zeke, he probably would have attacked you.”

  “Well . . . there you go.”

  “Unless you two arranged for that to take place.”

  “I don’t play games like that.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me, Sapphire . . . your husband and I have never spoken. His parking in front of my building, us being at the restaurant at the same time—that was just one hell of a coincidence. Had to be.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you’re here without a mark on you and your husband never said a word to you or to me.” He paused. “Where’s your husband right now?”

  “At work. He was gone before I woke up.”

  “Go home and relax, Sapphire.”

  “But . . . but what if he knows?”

  “He doesn’t know anything,” Tre said. There was a lot of reassurance in his tone, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder what Jewell’s purpose had been with the photographs. “Go home,” he said, walking to her and extending his hand to her.

  Sapphire frowned, put her hand in his, and stood up. “I have a bad feeling, Tre.”

  “It’s called a guilty conscience, Sapphire. Maybe you need to focus on fixing things with your husband.”

  Sapphire’s shoulders sagged and her chin dropped down a notch.

  Tre wasn’t one to let go of easy money, but he had a bad feeling also. He’d said their being at the same restaurant had been a coincidence, but had it really? Again, he thought about the photographer in his closet. For the first time, he was regretting allowing the invasion of his privacy.

  He escorted Sapphire to the door and opened it. It was time to let her go.

  “Go home, Sapphire.”

  “Who was she, Tre? That woman . . . who was she?”

  “She was a client, just like you.”

  “Is she . . . Does she mean anything?”

  “Go home, Sapphire.”

  Sapphire looked at him. Her eyes were welling with tears. “Tre . . . I . . .”

  “Go home,” he said again.

  Sapphire stared at him for a brief moment. By the expression on her face, his curt tone had surprised her. She nodded and, without saying another word, walked out the door.

  Tre didn’t hesitate.

  He closed the door behind her and went back to find his Zen.

  He had other clients. Sapphire’s money would not be missed.

  Chapter 20

  He had to know. That’s all Sapphire kept thinking as she walked away from Tre’s apartment. He may not have said anything, but she still couldn’t help but feel that Zeke had to know.

  Something.

  He just had to.

  Tre said it had been a coincidence, but Sapphire just couldn’t believe that. Parking in front of Tre’s building. Taking her to the Japanese restaurant.

  A coincidence?

  He didn’t know anything, Tre had said. A guilty conscience. Could he have been right? Had Zeke been telling the truth? Had he simply parked there because they’d been running behind on the reservation and the spot had been convenient? He’d never once looked toward Tre’s building. Wouldn’t he have if he’d known or suspected something had been going on?

  In the restaurant, Zeke had been calm, cool, normal. He wanted to have dinner with his wife. Did a man who knew of his wife’s infidelity behave that way? As though nothing were wrong. Could a man carry on as though everything were just fine? Could Zeke?

  She’d seen him fly off the handle before. In his younger days he’d been something of a hothead. Quick on the draw sometimes, he would react before he thought. She saw those same qualities in Sam. Over the years, the lion inside of him learned to purr. If he’d known about her and Tre, Sapphire doubted the man she knew would remain quiet.

  Did that mean Tre had been right?

  Had it been her guilty conscience that had her on edge in the restaurant?

  Zeke had never turned around when Tre and his “client” stepped inside. He never batted an eyelash or looked at her with a suspicious eye when she’d seen them walk in. During the drive home, he’d been nothing but worried about how she’d been feeling. When they arrived home, he’d been nothing but attentive, helping her change, propping up her pillows, fixing her a cup of tea. A man aware of his wife’s betrayal wouldn’t have done those things.

  Tre had to be right.

  Zeke had to have been totally oblivious.

  Right?

  Sapphire forced herself to take a deep breath as she reached the elevator. Focus on fixing things with Zeke. Tre’s advice. She exhaled slowly and pressed the down button.

  Zeke never said a word.

  He’d only wanted dinner with his wife.

  Focus on fixing things.

  The elevator doors opened. Sapphire stepped inside.

  “Hey! Hold the door!”

  Sapphire turned. A young Latino, mid-twenties, was running down the hallway toward her.

  Breathing heavily, he ran into the elevator. “Thanks,” he said, standing beside her. “Waiting for the elevator is a bitch.” He smiled.

  Sapphire smiled back. “No problem.” He was cordial, had a handsome smile, and seemed harmless, but Sapphire didn’t like the vibe coming from him. She clutched her purse a little tighter.

  “We must be on the same schedule.”

  Sapphire looked over at him. “Excuse me?”

  “We rode the elevator together on the way up.”

  “Did we?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sapphire said, “Oh.”

  He smiled. “Arriving and leaving at the same time. See . . . same schedule.” He laughed.

  As was his demeanor, it was a friendly, unassuming laugh. Still, Sapphire tightened her hold around her purse strap just a little more.

  “You live here?” the Latino asked.

  Sapphire shook her head. “No.”

  “Neither do I. I was visiting my girl before she goes to work. You?”

  “Just a friend,” Sapphire said curtly.

  The elevator came to a stop as they reached the lobby. When the doors opened, he said, “Have a good day.”

  Sapphire gave him a polite smile. “Thank you. You too.”

  He smiled back, and for some reason, as amicable as he’d been, his smile gave Sapphire the chills. She stepped into the lobby and hurried outside, heading to her car.

  Behind her, the Latino stood still outside of the apartment building’s entrance and watched her. When Tre had opened his door for Sapphire, he’d been walking past, heading toward the end of the hallway. His assignment had been to follow Sapphire. To see if he could find out who her lover was. Neither Tre nor Sapphire had realized he’d been within earshot
when she began to speak, and they had no idea that he’d been on the other side of the door eavesdropping on their conversation.

  The Latino, whom Ty called Loc’, which was short for “loco,” watched Sapphire hurry away.

  He and G were going to make an easy ten thousand apiece in a couple of days.

  Thursday—One Day

  Chapter 21

  “Is everything ready?” Zeke had just walked into Sam’s office and closed the door. Sam put down his pen and looked up at him. He clenched his jaws. “Everything’s ready,” he said.

  Zeke nodded. “Good.”

  “Zeke . . . are you sure about this? I mean . . . we can go another route. This doesn’t have to happen. I know what Sapphire’s done hurts, but—”

  “What would you do if Jewell allowed another man inside of her, Sam?” Zeke said, cutting him off. “What would you do if you saw her riding someone else’s dick? If she were biting on her bottom lip because another man was moving back and forth inside of her pussy while you were at work?”

  Sam tapped the index finger of his right hand on the desk as the visual of Zeke’s words appeared in his mind. “I—”

  “How would that make you feel, Sam? What would go through your mind? Would you wonder how long she’d been fucking him? Would you wonder if that other man’s dick was covered with a condom? Or if it was inside of her raw and spilling cum?”

  Sam tapped his finger harder and fidgeted in his seat. The visual—Jewell on top of someone else—was making his temperature rise.

  “You were moving your dick inside of that intern, Sam. You were fucking her from behind as she bent over your desk. Can you imagine Jewell taking it that way? Can you see her moving back and forth to meet his thrusts? Can you hear her moaning, begging to be fucked harder, deeper? Can you hear her demanding for it faster?”

  Sam flared his nostrils. Tapped his finger harder. Reached for his pen with his other hand, picked it up, and then put it back down. He’d fucked the intern hard, deep. He’d given it to her the way she’d wanted it. The way she’d demanded and begged for it.

  The way he could now hear Jewell begging for it.

  “Zeke . . .” He paused. Shook his head. Breathed in and out deeply. His heart beat heavily as his imagination worked involuntarily. His temperature rose by four more degrees.

  Jewell fucking another man.

  Riding him.

  Taking it from behind.

  “Would that ‘hurt’ you, Sam? If you received anonymous photographs? If someone else knew that Jewell was being an unfaithful whore? Would that ‘hurt’? Would that kill you inside? Would you die over and over thinking about it? Seeing it in your fucking mind and then on photo paper that you can’t make yourself throw away, but want to so badly? Would that make you cold? Make you fucking angry? Make you sad? Would that break you and make you hate?

  “What would you do, Sam? How would you feel? Another man. Another man’s dick.”

  Sam stopped tapping his finger and made fists with both hands as Zeke stared down at him. He clenched and unclenched his jaws furiously.

  The image of Jewell doing to him what he’d done to her—it made his eyes burn. Until now, he thought he’d understood what Zeke had been going through. He thought he could understand the level of pain and anger. The magnitude of the hatred burning inside of him.

  Until now.

  He shook his head. Didn’t speak. Just shook his head.

  Zeke looked at him long and hard for a few seconds and then turned around and left the office. He didn’t have to say anything else.

  In his chair, Sam sat still, his hands in tight fists, the impact of his own actions, his own betrayal, hitting him hard.

  “Christ,” he whispered as tears snaked from the corners of his eyes. “What the fuck have I done?”

  Chapter 22

  Zeke sat in his car, his fingers gripping his steering wheel. Minutes earlier he’d been with Sam, painting a very vivid and clear picture of why there’d been no other route to take.

  After the restaurant, playing the role had become increasingly more difficult. Being near Sapphire, touching her without strangling her—it had been hard.

  So goddamned hard.

  Tears fell from his eyes as he ground his teeth and choked the wheel. He moaned softly as Sapphire betrayed him in his mind again. As much as he loved her, he hated her now.

  Never say never.

  Nothing was impossible.

  Two phrases he never thought there was any truth to, because he certainly never thought it would have been possible to love his wife any less than forever and a day, with his heart and soul. No relationship was ever perfect of course, and not one person was without her share of flaws, but the woman Sapphire was, or at least the woman he thought she was, had been perfect for him, and her perfect imperfections had given him a life he would always cherish.

  But then the damn photographs arrived.

  On laminated paper. 8x11. Pristine, clear, professional shots.

  Sapphire wasn’t an exhibitionist, but the show she performed, the expression she bore, the intensity she exuded—she clearly hadn’t been let in on the photo shoot.

  Zeke slammed his right hand down on the steering wheel. “Who the fuck are you?” he yelled. “Why did you send me the goddamned photos?”

  Tears ran down his cheeks, as he wished for the power to go back in time. He wanted to be naïve again. He wanted to live life believing that his wife could and would never do him wrong. That she was a godsend sent to him for the sole purpose of completing him the way Renee Zellweger had completed Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire . The way Jada completed Will.

  He slammed his hand down on the wheel again. Did it over and over, each blow an imagined blow to Sapphire and her headless lover, to Sam and his intern, to the photographer and the photo paper used.

  Over and over.

  Each blow harder than the one before it.

  “Why? Goddammit! Why?”

  Tears fell harder now. Tears of pain. Tears of anger. Tears of disgust. Tears he’d been holding back.

  Tears that held the last remaining portion of his sanity.

  He hit the steering wheel again. The fabric of the control he’d had was being pulled away strand by strand. Not now, he thought. Not now. “Not now!” He was too close. He was almost there. He couldn’t lose it now.

  He hit the steering wheel again and shut his eyes tightly, forcing the salty tears to remain inside. He clenched his jaws, groaned, took air deep in his lungs.

  Not now. Not now. He breathed. Focused. Breathed. Focused. Not now . . . not . . . now. He opened his eyes, no longer having to worry about fresh tears, and wiped the old ones away with the back of his hand. Not now. He let the tension in his neck and shoulders ease away. “Not now,” he whispered. When Sapphire was gone. When people would mistake his tears and his pain for grief. Then and only then could he let go. When Sapphire was gone. When the photographs could finally be thrown away. But not now. Now . . . he still had a role to play. Zeke took one more deep breath, let it out slowly, and then slipped his key in the ignition and started the car. Thirty minutes later, he was pulling into his driveway. He sat still and stared at his home. He thought about the first time he and Sapphire had seen it. They’d been out with their realtor, Nancy. They’d been working with her for two weeks, searching for the perfect home. A few years before that day, they would never have dreamed that that type of search would be possible. They’d been struggling. Credit cards, student loans, rent, car—the bills were plenty and they’d been a steep mountain to climb. But then things took off with the company, and, little by little, the debt-to-cash ratio changed in their favor, and searching for their dream home just became the next obvious thing for them to do.

  They’d fallen in love with the attention-grabbing, two-story turret from the moment they walked through the front door and stepped into a marbled foyer. A study was off to the right, dining room to the left, leading into the kitchen with breakfast area and sunken s
unroom. The sunroom shared a see-through fireplace with the family room, where a bowed wall of windows allowed the sun to pour in. After taking a tour of the five bedrooms upstairs, they were sold. They put in a bid on the house, which was accepted, and two weeks later they were moving in.

  It didn’t take them long to make their new house a home, and before long, they were creating memories that would last forever. Memories that Zeke now wished would go away.

  He sat silent, unmoving.

  He’d sell the house two weeks after she was gone.

  Another byproduct of the insanity posed as grief.

  Being in the home with her not being there would be too hard. He needed new surroundings, a different environment. Something unfamiliar.

  This is what he would tell everyone. This would be his reasoning.

  Zeke turned off the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. All he had to do was play for one more day.

  The role of a lifetime.

  He got out of the car, wanting to take his gun from the glove compartment with him, and went inside.

  Chapter 23

  “What’s this?” Vanilla-scented candles had been lit and spread throughout the room. “Bolero” played by Pink Martini, an ensemble band introduced to Sapphire by her friend Marlene, who’d been introduced to them by her associate, Lisette. They were a worldly band, fusing jazz, samba, and African rhythms, with Japanese, Spanish, and French lyrics sung beautifully by their lead singer, China Forbes.

  Listening to Pink Martini was like being in a dimly lit lounge, painted in deep red tones, its walls covered with framed photographs of various celebrities from the past and present who’d all passed through to bless the establishment with smooth, sexy, entrancing, memorable performances. Etta James, Diana Krall, Will Downing, Najee. No food served, this was just the place to be to set up the romance before the passion.

  Pink Martini had many songs to choose from, but Sapphire chose “Bolero” for its seductive sound, because seduction was the mood she wanted to create.

  Candlelight, Pink Martini, and chilled wine.

  Tre had said to focus on fixing things.

  That had Zeke known anything, he would have said something.