Betrayal

by Dwayne S. Joseph

  “She . . . she’s fine,” Sam replied, his voice fading.

  “She’s going to need you, Sam. My daughter’s going to need your support to help her through this.”

  Sam didn’t respond.

  “You’re going to have to handle it, Sam. You’re going to have to keep it together.”

  Barely audible, Sam said, “I . . . I need to go, Zeke.”

  Sam ended the call before Zeke could say another word.

  Zeke looked at his reflection in the mirror. Sapphire’s death had hit Sam hard. His tone had been grief-filled and laced with guilt. He would have to have a talk with him. He would have to reinforce the need to keep himself together.

  His wife was dead.

  Funny, he thought. He’d expected that fact to hit him in the way it hit Sam. His wife, the woman he’d loved at one time more than anything in the world.

  He felt nothing.

  No sadness. No remorse. No regret. He would never see or hear her again. He would never feel her warmth. Only in his memories would that be possible.

  Zeke took a breath and thought about Sapphire being gone. He sat still. Gone. Dead. He digested the two words. He sat still. Waited for it to hit him. The emotional turmoil.

  He sat still.

  Breathed.

  Waited.

  He felt nothing.

  He rose from the bed. He had two more roles to play before it would all be over: the grieving widower and the grieving father.

  He and his reflection shared a lingering glance, admiration in their eyes.

  He would go home and play the roles. And if Sam couldn’t perform his, then he would have to meet a fate the same as Sapphire’s. It was a brand new life, and no one was going to get in the way of his happiness. He got dressed and prepared to go home.

  Chapter 35

  “Is he coming?” Sapphire looked at Sam, her heart beating heavily.

  Her husband. The man she’d given her heart to and shared vows with. The man to whom she’d given up her body. The man to whom she’d given her soul. Her husband of thirty-four years. He’d wanted her dead.

  He’d been somewhere waiting for a call letting him know that he could come home. That his wife’s lifeless, cold, stiff body was waiting to be found.

  He would put on an act, feign shock and grief. He would shed tears. He’d have a viewing and then a funeral. Would probably have a hundred or so attendees. He’d be pitied for his loss. People would offer their condolences. Tell him that if he needed anything at all, not to hesitate to call and let them know. They would be there to help see him through the rough time.

  Zeke would thank them for their kindness and their gratitude with hugs and smiles and tears. He’d tell them that he appreciated their support. That it meant a lot knowing he had friends like them to lean on. He would cry some more in front of them.

  All for the woman he’d had killed.

  At least that was his plan.

  Sam said, “Yes.”

  Sapphire nodded. “My daughter is dead, Sam. My daughter, your wife. Zeke killed her. You had a hand in it, too.”

  Sam kept his jaw tight and didn’t say anything.

  “Why did you cheat on Jewell?”

  Sam blinked several times, swallowed, dropped his chin to his chest, and looked down at the hardwood floor. He breathed slowly, deeply. “I . . . I was being selfish,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

  “Did Jewell satisfy you?”

  Choking back tears, Sam nodded. “Jewell is . . .” he said, grimaced in pain, and continued, “was . . . perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman, a better wife.”

  “Was it an affair?”

  He shook his head. “No. She meant nothing to me. It happened only one time. One fucking time.” Sam’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure.

  Sapphire frowned. “Zeke is . . . was a good man, but he has an obsessive-compulsive nature about him. When something grabs his interest, he throws himself into it completely, and when he does, he becomes neglectful. Zeke threw himself into building the company. In doing so, he forgot about his wife. Of course, I knew that for the first few years, his attention and time were going to be fixed on trying to make things happen. I understood and accepted that. But I also expected that after things were up and running, even though he couldn’t pull himself away from it completely, he would start to put some focus back on me. Not much of course, but at least enough to let me know that I was still desired, still cherished. That I was still relevant and necessary as a wife, lover, and friend.

  “My relationship with Tre . . . it wasn’t an affair. He was a gigolo and I paid him to satisfy me. I was lonely, Sam. Lonely and I needed companionship. I needed to feel like a woman. Every woman needs that. We get older, we have kids, and our bodies change. Our breasts sag, our hips spread, the bulge around our stomachs grow. Real women need to feel desired. I felt like a twenty-something with Tre. I felt wanted. It didn’t matter that I paid for it.”

  Sapphire took a breath and exhaled slowly.

  “You were wrong for cheating on Jewell. Neglectful or not, I was wrong for cheating on Zeke. But . . .” She paused again, stepped toward Sam, and put her hand beneath his chin and lifted it, forcing him to look her in the eye. “What we did was just cheating, Sam. It wasn’t a terrorist act. It was cheating. You and I, Zeke, and even Jewell . . . we’re all imperfect. We all make mistakes. Yes, we had a hand in Jewell’s death, but things should have never gotten this far. Zeke judged us as though he were perfect. Jewell is dead because Zeke acted as though he were the perfect man, the perfect husband.

  “Jewell and I didn’t have the greatest relationship, but she was my daughter. We had time to fix things between us and grow closer, and I think we would have. Jewell is dead, Sam. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but I want Zeke to pay. I hate him for what he did, and I want him to pay.” She paused again and gave Sam an intense, serious gaze. “You’re going to have to pay, too.”

  Sam inhaled, then exhaled. “I can’t possibly pay any more than I already have,” he said.

  Sapphire gave an acknowledging nod. “I know, despite your mistake, you loved Jewell with all your heart.”

  Tears fell from Sam’s eyes as he nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never wanted any of this to happen.”

  “We’re all sorry, Sam.”

  Sam turned and walked slowly out of the family room and the house, leaving Sapphire alone. Zeke was coming home to be surprised and devastated all at the same time.

  Chapter 36

  What goes around comes around. Karma.

  Sam thought he’d outrun his past and all of the things he’d done, but the circle of karma in his life hadn’t been completed until now, with Jewell’s death. Karma had finally completed its revolution and was now sitting on his lap.

  Sapphire had said he had to pay. He said he couldn’t have paid any more. He’d been wrong.

  He drove down the highway to his old neighborhood with revenge, remorse, and repentance in his heart and on his mind. He grabbed his cell and dialed Ty’s number.

  The “Pop Champagne” ring tone blasted in his ear momentarily before Ty answered. “I hope you’re callin’ me to tell me you got the rest of my money, nigga.”

  Sam clenched his jaws. “I’ll be at Old Man Hop’s in fifteen minutes.” He ended the call, tossed his cell to the passenger side floorboard, tightened his grip around the steering wheel, and focused back on the road.

  Fifteen minutes later he was pulling into Old Man Hop’s chop shop.

  He cut the engine as Ty stood beside Loc’. G, who had raised the gate, allowing Sam to drive in, now lowered the gate and remained behind the car. Sam looked at G in the rear view mirror and thought about the last time he’d laid eyes on him. Jewell had been dying then.

  Sam took a breath as Sapphire’s words ran through his mind.

  He had to pay.

  For all that had happened. For his inability to say no to Zeke. For
hiring Ty and his boys. He had to pay.

  He exhaled and stepped out of the car and closed the door.

  Ty said, “I don’t see no briefcase in your hand, nigga.”

  Sam looked down at the concrete floor. It was stained with oil and tire treads. Pretty soon it would be stained with something else. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. His heart beat was surprisingly calm, his nerves steady, and the palms of his hands cool and dry. He took one final deep breath, savored the feel and pressure in his lungs being full, and then looked up at Ty. He shook his head. “There’s no briefcase,” he said evenly.

  Ty looked at Loc’, who shrugged his shoulders. Ty looked back to Sam. “What you mean there’s no briefcase?”

  “I mean I’m not paying you any more money.”

  Ty’s expression became dark. “What you mean you ain’t payin’ me? Nigga, was you smokin’ on your way here?”

  “Your boy . . .” Sam turned his head and looked at G who was still standing by the gate. “You killed the wrong person!”

  G looked at him skeptically. “What do you mean I killed the wrong person? I killed whoever you said was gonna be in the fuckin’ house, dude.”

  “You were supposed to kill my mother-in-law. Not my fuckin’ wife, nigga!” Sam turned back to Ty. “My wife is dead, Ty. I got no more money for you!”

  Ty pulled out a 9 mm. “What the fuck? Nigga, you came here to die or what? I don’t give a fuck which one of your bitches died. You paid to have a job done. You gave instructions on how it was supposed to be done, and those instructions were followed.”

  “He shot my fucking wife!” Sam screamed. His heart was beating heavily now as adrenaline kicked into high gear.

  “Nigga, I told you I don’t give a fuck. You said the bitch would be alone in the house. Now, I’m gonna give you one more chance, and that’s only because we used to be boys. Get me my motherfuckin’ money or shit’s gonna get real ugly for you.”

  Ty held the gun strong and firm. Loc’ stood beside him with his pistol drawn, too. Sam was sure G had his gun out as well.

  Sam stared at Ty, who glared back at him with the eyes and body language of a bull about to charge. He hadn’t been the gunman, but he had to pay too. Sapphire’s words whispered in his head again.

  His heart pounded. Felt as though it were trapped inside of his chest and was determined to break free. His breathing quickened. Time slowed to a crawl.

  In his arms, blood leaking from her wounds, his wife had taken her last breath. Sam would always remember that. He’d always have the image of the look of shock, fear, and pain on her face as she looked up at him.

  He couldn’t handle that. Day after day, that image would haunt him. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t man enough to pay for his cowardice. He just couldn’t.

  In his waist band he’d concealed a .22. Zeke had given it to him. Said to keep it on him just in case he met a “Sam” of his own that he couldn’t convince to go and eat Italian food. He’d kept it in the glove compartment, and just before he reached the shop, he removed it and tucked it behind his belt.

  Time froze.

  Sound disappeared.

  Sam pulled the .22 free. For a split second, he thought about shooting Ty, but then turned and faced G. He’d shot Jewell. He’d killed his wife. It wasn’t his fault, but he had to die first. If he got the chance, he’d kill Ty next.

  He squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, three times.

  G grunted and fell back as bullets hit him in his chest and midsection.

  Seconds later, bullets ripped through Sam’s shoulders and back, some exiting through his chest. He fell to the ground, his upper torso burning, bleeding. He crawled until someone kicked him repeatedly in his ribs, forcing him to roll over onto his back.

  Sam looked up.

  Ty stood above him, the muzzle of his 9 mm aimed at Sam’s head. “Stupid motherfucker,” he said, and then squeezed the trigger.

  Just before the bullet made impact with his forehead, Sam smiled.

  The last thing he would see would be Ty standing above him.

  Sam smiled.

  Chapter 37

  Zeke pulled up to his house. It was three o’clock in the morning. A full moon shone in the dark, early morning sky. All of the lights in the house were off. The moon cast an eerie glow over the house.

  Zeke cut the engine and stared at his home. In a few seconds he would walk in and discover his wife’s dead body. He’d worked on his frantic 9-1-1 phone call on the drive home.

  H—help! My . . . my wife . . . she . . . Someone sh—shot my wife! Oh God!

  He’d pretty much perfected it. The inflection in the rise and pitch, the perfect levels of paranoia, fear, disbelief, and grief. He would deserve an Oscar for his performance.

  He opened his car door and stepped out. His steps were light and casual as he made his way to the house. At the front door he paused and looked up at the moon, looking for the face in it. He found it and gave it a wink, and then opened his door, flicked the light in the foyer, and stepped inside.

  He closed the door behind him and stood still in the silence.

  “Honey, I’m home!”

  He waited for a response and smiled.

  He moved away from the door, went to his study, and turned on the light. “Where are you, baby? Where they leave you, you bitch!”

  The study empty, he moved away and went to the kitchen, turned on the lights there, saw nothing, and moved on to the sunroom and then the family room. “Where are you, bitch! Where did you take your last breath?”

  He left the family room and went to the staircase. He paused and looked down. The maroon tile beneath his foot was a little sticky.

  He stepped off of the tile and made his way up the stairs. “Where are you darling?” He chuckled. Darling. He never used that word. “Honey? Darling?”

  He was halfway up the staircase now.

  “Are you in the bedroom, honey? It’s fitting that you’d be there, you fucking whore!”

  “I’m not in the bedroom.”

  Zeke stopped moving.

  That voice. Coming from the top of the staircase. It was frighteningly familiar.

  He looked up.

  The light at the top of the staircase came on.

  Sapphire. His wife. Staring down at him.

  “Wh—What . . .”

  “You fucking asshole!” Sapphire shrieked. “You fucking bastard!”

  Zeke leaned against the banister as his knees grew weak. He shook his head. “It . . . it’s not possible. You’re . . .

  You’re . . .”

  “What, Zeke?” Sapphire yelled. “I’m what?”

  “You’re . . . you’re supposed to be dead?”

  “Jewell is the one who’s dead!”

  “Wh . . . what?”

  Tears erupting from her eyes, Sapphire screamed, “I wasn’t here! Jewell was. She was looking for you, you piece of shit! The guy you hired thought she was me! He shot her! She’s dead. You killed our daughter!”

  Zeke’s chest hurt and burned as he struggled to breath, struggled to deal with Sapphire’s existence above him, struggled to comprehend what she’d said. Everything around him spun and became unfocused. He began to shake.

  Jewell.

  Dead?

  He shook his head. “You’re . . . you’re lying! You’re fucking lying!”

  “Your daughter died at the bottom of the steps!” Sapphire raged. “You killed her, Zeke! You killed my baby!”

  The bottom of the steps. The stickiness.

  Zeke shook his head again. “No . . . No!” He put his hand to his chest. He felt as though he were having a heart attack. His daughter? It couldn’t be. He shook his head yet again. “You’re lying! I . . . I spoke to Sam. He said you were dead. He said Jewell was fine!”

  “I told him to say that, Zeke. I was standing beside him when he told you you could come home. I was standing right there when you called to confirm that I was dead, you piece of shit!”


  Zeke couldn’t breathe. He could barely think. His daughter. No. Not his daughter. Not Jewell. Not his princess.

  He took a step. “You’re lying!” he insisted again.

  “You, bastard! Your plan backfired. Our daughter is dead!”

  Another step up, Zeke insisted again, “You’re lying!”

  “Jewell sent you the pictures, Zeke. She sent you those goddamned pictures!”

  Zeke knotted his head in frustration. “What? What do you mean she sent me the pictures?”

  “She found out about me, and she hated me for it. She hired a professional photographer and had the pictures taken and then sent you the photos.”

  Zeke shook his head. Jewell had sent him the photos. “She sent the photos?” he said, his voice growing soft with disbelief.

  “She wanted you to confront me, Zeke! She wanted you to take those photographs and throw them in my face. But you couldn’t do that, could you? Your pride just wouldn’t let you come and confront me. And you know what, you fucking bastard? It wasn’t even a goddamned affair! I was paying to be fucked because I was lonely! You neglected me, Zeke. You put work and everything else before me, before us, time and time again. This . . . this is your fault! You pushed me into another man’s arms, Zeke!”

  Zeke stumbled and fell against the banister as his legs gave out. He took rapid breaths, felt as though he were hyperventilating. Confusion, angst, and dread funneled around him, forming the most horrific tornado.

  The pictures, sent by Jewell.

  Sapphire, his wife, with another man.

  Sam with the intern.

  Sapphire alive.

  Jewell dead.

  The tornado swirled. Knocked him back. Knocked him sideways. Almost picked him up and threw him down.

  He put his hand over his mouth, shook his head, squeezed his cheeks with his thumb and middle finger.

  Jewell had been calling him over and over and now she was dead.

  The tornado spun.

  “You’re supposed to be dead!” he screamed as tears fell from his eyes. “You’re supposed to be dead, you whore!”