Twisted Vows of Seduction

by N’Tyse

  “I see my son!” he snapped back.

  “When it’s convenient for you! Sure you do. I’ll give you that,” Nadine retorted sarcastically.

  Jeff hesitated for only a minute. Had to guide his words in the right direction. “You know what. I’m not going there with you because I know that I do a damn good job taking care of my son. I clothe him, I pay for his daycare, I scoop him up every weekend…”

  Nadine’s eyes widened in confusion. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” she asked. “Because you and I both know that you are making a difference between those kids.” She pointed toward her bedroom, never taking her eyes off of him. “I understand Deandra needs you because she doesn’t have her mother anymore, but Canvas needs you too! I’m not trying to do this alone and you promised me that I wouldn’t have to!”

  Every piece of Jeff’s skin felt so hot and tight it hurt. His facial expression didn’t even come close to revealing to her what he was really thinking at that moment. His eyebrows converged, his eyes narrowed to slits and his nostrils puckered up. An acidic taste filled his once cotton-dry mouth as he searched through his thoughts, trying to process everything she’d just said. His lips tingled as he wet them to say what she definitely deserved to hear, especially after spilling out those foul-ass comments. But something inside of him kept his words at bay all while her words echoed in his mind. This was the type of shit that made men like him want to stop trying, stop doing, stop giving a fuck. Nothing he did was being acknowledged or appreciated. None of it. Not the $300,000 in trust accounts he had set up for Canvas’s college fund, not the clothes and shoes she never had to buy, not the daycare expenses he paid in advance, not even the relief he gave her on the weekends. What more did she want from him?

  Jeff read Nadine up and down. He checked out this new look of hers. She had cut her hair shorter than he’d ever seen it. It was then that he concluded that this Waiting to Exhale moment wasn’t about Canvas as she had wanted him to believe. This was about the two of them. He exhaled deeply, satisfied that he had figured it all out for himself. Yeah, this is exactly what this was about. And this brand-new language she was talking was her way of throwing salt on his still fresh open wounds. But he knew just how to handle her.

  “You know what,” Jeff said, “I don’t need this shit today.” He shot her a repulsive look before he walked over to the sliding door to open it. “Deandra, baby, let’s go.” He turned back to Nadine who was still standing in the exact spot looking dumbfounded. “Where are his bags?”

  “So just like that, huh? End of conversation!” She waited for his response, but it never came. She closed her eyes and reopened them. “Why do I even waste my breath?”

  “His bags?” Jeff asked again, sounding more impatiently this time. He refused to entertain her miserable madness. No matter how far this conversation went, predictably so, it would end with him being to blame. “You know what, never mind.”

  “Behind the door,” she retorted without so much as looking at him.

  Jeff grabbed both of Canvas’s bags before walking over to Nadine’s bed. He scooped his son up in his arms and as he did so, Canvas slowly began to stir from his nap. He placed his head on Jeff’s shoulder and fell right back to sleep. Jeff walked past Nadine with extreme urgency. Deandra was so closely behind her father, one would have thought the building was on fire. Nadine quickly leaned in to hug and kiss Canvas as Jeff stopped to grab his keys off the bar. He saw two gold keys similar to what used to be his house key. Next to it her old lock. He snatched her old key off his key ring and left it on the bar all while thinking how asinine this was. Had she been woman enough to ask for the key, he would have given it back. No questions asked. She chose to make this more difficult than it had to be.

  “I’ll call and check on him later,” she hollered out as he opened the front door to let himself out.

  Jeff turned around slowly and shot her the same cold menacing glare. “I take care of my son!” he said once again before turning to leave.

  8

  “Add forty on pump two with this,” Ménage told the slinky, bumpy-faced Arabian man standing behind the cash register. He had been watching her the entire time from the moment she entered the gas station, as he always did when she came in. She had on a pair of black super tight leggings and a fitted graffiti tank that cut off right above her navel. Sandals instead of stilettos. Panties instead of g-strings. No makeup or false eyelashes, only cherry lip gloss, big red hoops, and a pair of black and gold Gucci sunglasses. She was sure he had never seen her this way. Not this plain.

  “That’ll be $56.98,” the clerk said.

  Ménage handed him all five and one-dollar bills. He grinned sheepishly as he reached in the register to collect her change. She knew he was judging her just as the others did that walked in and out of the store. But what they failed to realize was that she didn’t give a hot damn as none of them were paying her bills.

  “You have a boyfriend?” He smiled, revealing a missing tooth.

  Ménage kept a straight face. “Yeah, I have a boyfriend,” she hauled out, chewing on her spearmint gum. She held out a hand to collect her change, then watched how he slowly bagged her items.

  “Well, that’s too bad, beautiful. I could have made you a very happy woman.”

  Ménage was so turned off but tried not to show it. Not because of his comment or the simple fact that she knew he couldn’t do anything for her but keep her Honda gassed up. She was turned off by his overall appearance. Instead of being her normal smug self, she squeezed out a light chuckle. “My loss then,” she said. She grabbed her bag off the counter and without saying another word, she walked out of the store. No man could ever make her as happy as she was when she was with Slug. He loved her unconditionally and he would do anything for her. That was the solace and companionship she missed so much at times. It was the drama she couldn’t put up with.

  Ménage pumped her gas and got back into her car. She had a mild headache and excruciating cramps that seemed to get worse by the minute. She quickly popped open the bottle of Aleve and downed two pills with a gulp of Evian. Her day was already starting off wrong and because Mother Nature decided to crash down on her, she knew her weekend was going to suck in addition to putting a major dent in her pocket. She couldn’t strip on her period. At least she preferred not to. So instead she would have to waitress for the night.

  As she drove on the service road headed back home, she passed department stores, restaurants, and eventually the mall. Her plans for the weekend had definitely been crushed, but at this moment, all she wanted to do was lie up in bed with her honey, Jeff. The more time she invested in him, the closer she would be to the money.

  She reached for her cell and as she was getting ready to select Jeff’s name, her fingers scrolled down some more and then stopped on another name. Instead of putting the woman’s real name in, Ménage had programmed Nadine’s phone number under “The Bitch.” She knew Jeff had gone over to her place last night. She wasn’t stupid. Besides, Jeff never hid that he was still very much involved with Nadine.

  One time Ménage swore she’d tasted that bitch’s pussy on his dick. That’s when she let him know that she wasn’t going behind another hoe unless she was getting paid to. That night he whipped out an extra $100 for the inconvenience. So as time went on, the easier it became to accept that Nadine wasn’t leaving the situation on her own. Not without a good enough reason and Jeff was going to keep screwing the both of them. Luckily for Ménage, she didn’t have any feelings whatsoever for him. Her feelings lied with his dick and his money! She had to keep her eyes on the prize, but The Bitch was becoming a major distraction that she had to eliminate from the equation. Until she got her nuts off and her stacks on deck.

  Without blocking her number as she had done last night, Ménage called the number and waited for Nadine to answer.

  “Hello,” Nadine answered on the first ring, catching Ménage completely off-guard this time.

  Ménage
laced her voice with seduction. She spoke slowly and every other word had a short moan behind it. “May I speak with Jeff?”

  “He just left. May I ask who’s calling?”

  She thought about giving her some bogus name. She thought about hanging up the phone in Nadine’s face. But why? That wouldn’t accomplish anything, she reasoned. It was time The Bitch knew that there was a new bitch on the scene.

  “Ménage.”

  “I’m sorry. Who?”

  “It’s Ménage. His…fiancée.”

  Nadine got eerily quiet on her. Silence was always a good thing in these types of situations. That meant she had her undivided attention. Ménage continued, knowing her next jab would really fuck Nadine’s head up.

  “I’m leaving the clinic and I just wanted to tell him our good news…”

  “How did you get my number?” Nadine interjected.

  “This is his mother, right?” Ménage asked cheerfully. “I’ve been dying to meet you, Mrs. Jackson,” she carried on. “Jeff has told me so much about you.”

  “No, this is not Jeff’s mother. Listen, I’m not sure how you got my number or why you’re even calling my house looking for him, but please don’t call here again.”

  This time Ménage got quiet. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me. “I’ll try him on his cell…”

  “Wait! How long have you two been…”

  Ménage slowly pulled the phone away from her ear and promptly hit END to cancel the call. Her lips broadened into a dirty conniving smile. She felt like she had just won the lotto.

  She turned off the AC and opened her sunroof to let the wind inside of her car. She cranked up her music and sang along to the R&B song she had been jamming to on satellite radio, all while laughing inside. “Dumb broad!” she hollered, pulling into her designated parking spot.

  She trod up the stairs and as soon as she walked inside of her apartment, she located her laptop to check her email. As she scrolled over her latest email, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Her homeboy, Reginald, one of the club promoters for X-Rated, had done exactly what he’d promised he would do for her. He got the casting director for an upcoming feature film to review the portfolio that they had put together. They agreed he would shop her as a model and an actress to decorate her resume to make it appear as if she had experience in film. He had some local film students produce several commercials, trailers, and pilots, featuring Ménage to make it appear as though she was more experienced than in reality. So in addition to her exceptional acting skills, it showed her versatility. The idea worked, and now Reginald was emailing her about this fantastic opportunity.

  Ménage quickly replied to Reginald’s email and waited for him to respond. She needed more details. Hell, she wasn’t trying to be no damn extra or supporting character. She wanted a leading role; if not, it wasn’t worth any of her time.

  While waiting, she Googled EVICTION NOTICE LETTERS. There were over a million results. All she needed was one good letter sample so that she could execute the next step in her plan. If she could get Jeff to take her in, she would be that much closer to the megabucks. She would find out where the money from the insurance policy was stashed as well as the other bank accounts, and then squeeze him for every last dime.

  After going through pages and pages of uploaded evictions, Ménage copied and pasted, tweaked and inserted, just to get exactly what she needed to create a legitimate-looking eviction notice. After spending over an hour on her letter, it came out perfect. She printed off two copies of her splendid handiwork. She had made up some bogus name to put in the spot designated for the landlord’s representative’s name. She signed the false name, folded the paper and placed the letter in an envelope with her name scribbled on it. She tucked it inside of her beige and red Gucci tote bag, then called the leasing office, hoping they hadn’t already left for the evening.

  “It’s a lovely day here at Cornerstone Townhomes. This is Cathy, how may I assist you?”

  “Cathy, this is Ebony Greer, Apt 2101,” Ménage said with a tremble in her voice. She paused for dramatic effect and made a sobbing sound. “My mother has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer.” Another pause. “The doctors don’t expect her…to live long.” She imitated a weep.

  “Oh no,” Cathy gasped.

  “So I’ll be moving back home to be with her…for her final days.” Ménage sniffed.

  “Why of course,” Cathy said, sounding so disheartened by the news.

  “I understand there are penalties for breaking a lease, but I wanted to see if you could make an exception this one time,” she said through sobs.

  “Well…we typically…”

  Ménage continued with her charade.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Cathy said. “Come on down to the office and I’ll see what we can work out.”

  Ménage muffled an, “Okay, I’ll be right down,” before hanging up. Ménage knew if things worked out as planned, it would only be a matter of time before she had Jeff right where she wanted him. She went back to check her email.

  From: Reginald Scott

  Subject: Ebony L. Greer / Film Audition

  Message: You funny as hell, Ménage. Hell naw you won’t be just walking down the street. You’re auditioning for one of the lead roles. Just trust me on this, baby girl. You in this thang! I got you set up for Tuesday at 3pm. You’re meeting with a guy named Russ. It’s a low-budget feature film as I told you before, but this dude has major connects and he’s well on his way in the film biz. This could be your big break so rock it! Also, he’s not a fan of arrogance so don’t try to outrun this cat with that fly-ass mouthpiece of yours. Just look sexy, nail the audition, and make me proud. I’ll text you the address and phone number in a second.

  Love,

  Reginald

  Ménage let out a sigh of relief. She could feel it. She was damn right going to nail this audition and have Russ’s ass begging her to take the part. Following that thought, she checked for plane ticket times and booked the first thing leaving out of Dallas to Louisiana. It wasn’t Hollywood, but it damn sure was a head start in that direction. Like the saying went, “You gotta crawl before you walk,” and Ménage made a living getting on her knees so this was going to be a piece of cake.

  Ménage searched through her closet for a shirt less revealing. She threw on a long beige shirt, overlooked herself in the mirror and began to rub her eyes until they turned red.

  She hurried to the bathroom, brushed on some mascara, and thought about the most tragic image she could think of in order to get the tears rolling. All she could see clearly in her mind now was Slug’s lifeless body lying up in a silver casket lined in chrome. She imagined every detail right down to the color of the pillow his head lay atop of. More tears crowded her face.

  Truthfully, she didn’t know if her boyfriend was dead or not. But whenever she thought the worst that could have happened to him, tears would immediately flood her face. Ménage walked out the door and headed for the leasing office, teary-eyed, distraught, and full of lies that she couldn’t wait to sell. It was the only way out of that damn contract without ruining her perfect credit.

  9

  It was like looking off into the Pacific Ocean as Greg stared deeply into the depths of Vivian’s luminous teal blue eyes. Something he hadn’t done in a very long time. She was more gorgeous than he’d liked to remember. Her perfectly shaped nose, lifted cheeks, luscious enhanced lips, and lifted chin, made her a walking billboard for one of the best plastic surgeons in the state of Texas. It was worth every penny she’d invested and even he was incredibly pleased with the outcome. Her warm tanned skin was tight, smooth, and flawless, thanks to the best cosmetic enhancements money could procure.

  He thought to himself how undeserving he was of her as his eyes fixated on her posed sensuously with her long silky blonde locks swept to the right side of her neck. Voluminous curls spilled over her bare shoulder and onto the white mink scarf draped around her neck. Her tiny freckles had been concealed
with makeup, but Greg knew they were there. He could point them out in a heartbeat because he could see beyond the mirage. He knew Vivian inside and out, but after all these years of being married to her, he didn’t understand why it had taken him this long to realize that deep down, he wasn’t completely happy.

  He had been living in the illusion of happiness. He had adapted to her way of life. A life that was once all a facade to him, on the outside looking in. Greg adored his wife and he still loved her. But loving her wasn’t enough anymore. She had deprived him of children, of a family, and of himself. Causing him to miss out on life’s most precious moments and joys. Some days he found himself staring in the mirror, only to be reminded that he was still black, and that no matter how many elite clubs they were in, parties they attended, or how much money they tossed into political buckets, he would never be one of them. And him marrying a white woman wasn’t going to change the hue of his skin or this color complex he’d been accused of having. But he had to admit that it felt good being at the top of the food chain and rubbing elbows with some of the same individuals he and his best friend once tried to get to invest in their entrepreneurial ventures.

  So many sacrifices had been made to appease his wife, however, Greg couldn’t do it anymore. Losing Denise had made him realize how he didn’t want to take another second of his life for granted.

  “Sorry to keep you holding there, Mr. Adams. Had to catch that call,” Dave said, jolting Greg out of his thoughts. “Now where were we? Oh yes, the Sunset Boulevard property. As I was saying before, I truly believe we might have a deal on that one. And with it being a for-sale-by-owner listing, it really increases our chances of snatching it at the price I proposed.”

  Greg placed the five-by-seven, silver framed photo of his wife back on his desk and sat upright in the chair. “Great! But how soon will we know for sure?”