Gordon's the only one of our crew who doesn't have to deal with family hassles. Alice's family loves him to the point of being sickening. His being the celebrity host of the late-afternoon TV show, Getting Down with Cleveland, has probably deepened their “love”—but I'm not being fair. They truly adore him, especially Alice's father, who, after spending years in a house ruled by his wife and three daughters, considers Gordon to be the son he never had. It's a beautiful situation that Gordon keeps risking by fooling around with those airhead groupies who aren't interested in him but in his TV-manufactured personality.
When he's out of the public eye, Gordon's a great, down-to-earth, fun-to-be-around human being. But the moment a fan sees him, or reporters are sticking microphones in his face, or he's in front of a TV camera, he transforms into the king of superficially pretentious jerks. At those moments, he's nearly insufferable, and I have to remind myself that once the lights, microphones, and public adulation leave, the real Gordon will re-emerge.
I've known Harry and Gordon just a year or so longer than I've known Sierra. We met seven years ago down at Butler Park while training with other over-the-hill athletes for the Greater Cleveland Community Sports Challenge. During the sprint time trials, Harry, Gordon, and I clocked the fastest times, so we decided to team up for the 4×100 meter relay race to win the cash prize: fifteen hundred dollars for each of the victors. We started practicing together, found a decent running fourth person named Xavier Brown, and took first place.
On the way to victory, we became friends. Then Xavier's job transferred him to Memphis, so we had to find someone new for the next year's Challenge. It's been that way ever since. Before each Challenge, the guys and I scout around for someone who'll be fast enough to at least give us a shot at winning. Last year, Harry's brother-in-law, Lofton, ran with us. He was so slow that other teams were crossing the finish line by the time he handed me the baton. That's why it was such a loss when Mason Booker dropped out. Along with being a good-humored southerner, he's pretty fast, and Harry, Gordon, and I were each counting ourselves fifteen hundred dollars richer.
So it was through the Sports Challenge that the three of us started hanging out together. We went fishing, shot pool, risked our lives by cheering for the Browns when they played the Steelers in Pittsburgh, played golf, and talked about women, women, and more women! Those were hilarious conversations, especially when Harry and I tried to outdo each other's bizarre stories of recent dates. What was more bizarre was that Gordon had stories of his own recent dates, and he was married!.
The year I met Sierra, things changed. I got promoted to inner city regional manager, married my baby, and was happily spending most of my time with her. Two years later, Harry met and married Inez. Then the TV execs, impressed by the popularity and exploding ratings of Gordon's late-afternoon show, moved him from three days to five days per week.
I was tending to home and career and loving it, but I missed the company of my friends. Harry and Gordon expressed similar feelings one day during a phone conference grump session. So I suggested, “Why don't we meet once a month for breakfast?”
It's been tough keeping our appointments, but that's not the case today, and I'm looking forward to having breakfast with my two crazy friends.
FOUR
I pull up in front of Harry's house and tap the horn a few times, but there's no answer. I knew he wouldn't be ready. I get out, hurry to the door, and knock hard. Harry had better hurry before his ride turns into a walk. I'm not letting anyone or anything upset my plans for celebrating with Sierra.
I knock again, and the door whips open. I'm about to get on Harry's case until I see that it's Inez. The thin silk bathrobe she's wearing contrasts with her made-up face, snazzy hairdo, sheer stockings, and burgundy high-heeled shoes. Except for the robe and her smelling like a distillery, she's ready for work.
“Where is he?” Inez demands to know, slurring her words and looking past me. “All he had to do was get Bubbles some dog food, and he's messing that up.”
I hold my breath to avoid the choking blast of Inez's boozed breath. Yipping away and safely distanced from me, Bubbles the miniature poodle is carrying on like she's a snarling timber wolf. She's like those Brownfield District ghetto dogs that bark loud while running away.
“And good morning to you too, Inez,” I say.
She clucks her tongue, rolls her eyes, and sways off into the living room. She grabs a drink off the coffee table and orders the dog upstairs. Inez has a great body, but I refuse to stare at her succulent round breasts, curvy hips, slender calves, soft shoulders, and firm half-moons of her quivering behind.
“I wish he'd hurry,” Inez complains, finishing off her drink. “I told him almost an hour ago that Bubbles needed some dog food. The market's just around the corner, so he should've been back by now.”
After a couple of wobbly tries she lights a cigarette, takes a drag, and blows a cloud of smoke. “What're you doing?” she asks, irritated, and looking at me still standing in the doorway. “Come inside. Bubbles won't bite.”
Forget Bubbles! My concern is being in Harry's home with his juiced wife—when he's not here! It's the kind of situation that can have me staring down the wrong end of a pistol. Harry probably wouldn't suspect anything, but I also don't want to give him cause.
So I tell Inez, “That's okay. I'll wait in the car.”
“Fine!” she snaps.
I turn away as she takes another drag of her cigarette and pounds the remainder into a large gray marble ashtray.
“I hate him!” she yells.
I turn in time to see her grab the ashtray and hurl it at the patio window.
“You're a selfish bastard, Harry!” she screams, her voice breaking with the shattering glass.
She plops onto the couch behind her, buries her face in her hands, and sobs. I close the door and rush over to Inez. “Inez, take it easy,” I say, softly touching her shoulder.
I'd sit down beside her, but on second thought, no. I can hear just as well on my feet. She slaps my hand away and looks up at me with wet, red eyes.
“You're Harry's friend, Denmark,” she says in a soggy voice. “Why is he so hostile about having children?”
I don't know what Inez expects me to say. Harry's repeatedly told her about his many frustrations with Claude. That's why I was shocked to learn that he hadn't gotten a vasectomy.
“I use rubbers,” he explained. “I ain't lettin nobody slice my meat.”
“He's making me pay for the past,” Inez sobs. “He won't even give me a chance.”
I feel bad for Inez, but she and Harry knew better. Harry told her how he felt, and Gordon told Harry that no matter how much Inez promised before the wedding, sooner or later she'd change her mind.
“I've done shows on this subject,” Gordon had insisted. “There's too much proof to ignore the facts.”
Inez springs to her feet and jabs her stiff index finger into my chest. “He's got a girlfriend, doesn't he?”
I've mellowed out since the Brownfield District, but the only person I allow to touch me so freely is Sierra. Inez is flying high right now, so I'm going to give her a pass, but she still needs to back off.
“Inez, please don't put your hands on me,” I warn.
“You're all the same,” she accuses, jabbing. “No good men! All of you!”
I firmly shove Inez away and head for the door. “Denmark, wait!” she implores. “I'm sorry. It's just that… I know he does.”
I inhale deep and turn slowly back to Inez. “Inez, why do you think Harry's cheating on you?”
She walks across the living room and stares directly into my eyes. Big tear diamonds fall from hers. “He won't make love to me, Denmark,” she says softly. “Not even with a condom. That's how I know.”
I take a safe step back. “Maybe he's just being extra careful to make sure he doesn't get you pregnant.”
She takes a bold step forward. “It's true that I want to eventually get pregnant,” she con
firms, edging closer. “But what I need right now is the hard feel of a man inside me.”
I'm getting out of here. Still facing Inez, I reach back for the doorknob. She throws herself against me and hugs me tight. “Don't go!” she says desperately.
She grinds her pelvis against me, and a warm glow ignites in my crotch. I peel Inez off of me and shove her away. “No!” I declare. “This is wrong.”
Her expression darkens with anger, and she hollers, “Go to hell!” as I'm slamming the door shut behind me.
FIVE
I'm sitting back in my Corvette a few minutes later when Harry pulls into his driveway, gets out, and waves to me. “I'll be right out,” he says, smiling.
“Make it quick, H. I'm on a tight schedule.”
“Trust me,” he says loudly over his shoulder. “I wanna be gone more than you.”
He lugs the dog food into the house and closes the door. Almost immediately I hear him and Inez arguing. I turn up the Corvette's special edition satellite radio and try to relax as love balladeer Faze-2 croons to his sweetheart. Moments later, the front door whooshes open, and Harry storms out.
I wonder if Inez said anything to him about our confrontation. We'll see in a moment. In a huff, he gets into the car but doesn't slam the door.
I watch him as he buckles up. “Are you all right?” I ask.
“Yes!” he snaps. “No! I mean, let's just go!”
I shift the car into reverse and back out the driveway. I cruise out the neighborhood and zip into traffic, and fuming Harry opens up.
“Man, do you know what that crazy woman did?”
“No, H. What happened?”
“She threw an ashtray through our patio window!” he blasts. “I shelled out twenty-three hundred dollars for that special high-tech Sun-Blocker Weather Warrior window.”
“I thought I heard something break.”
“It's all because of Inez's idiot cousin, Bernie,” he grouses. “If he hadn't been gloatin’ last night about finally havin’ a daughter after makin’ them five hard-headed boys, Inez wouldn't be buggin’ me again about havin’ a baby.”
I grunt, not sure what to say.
“I've tried every which way from Tuesday tryin’ to explain to Inez that I don't want no more children!” Harry rails.
He pounds his sledgehammer fist into his knee. Harry's hand represents him well. He's an average height, thick power cylinder of a man with slightly bowed legs, wide bricklayer's shoulders, bowling ball biceps, and hands that look like crushing tools.
“I wanna love just her,” he emphasizes. “I want only Inez, and nobody but Inez!”
“I hear you, H. I feel the same about Sierra.”
“That's what great about you'n Sierra. Ya'll's stuff is balanced. She's all her, and you're all you, but ya'll know that you couldn't even be pieces of yourselves without each other.”
Sierra's beautiful face flashes before me, and I nod in slow agreement. “That's true, H. I didn't even know I was empty until Sierra made me whole.”
“Empty is what I'd be if I ever shot that magic bullet into Inez.”
“What do you mean?”
He exhales a loud sigh. “She's desperate to have a baby, Denmark. I mean, really desperate! The moment she's pregnant I won't be nothin’ but a has-been sperm donor.”
“C'mon, Harry, you don't really believe that, do you?”
“She'll forget me, man. She won't mean to, but she will. By the time it's all said and done, I'll be standin’ in the corner next to her potted plant.”
“Negro, get a grip,” I chuckle. “Even if you are the plant, you'll still be the daddy.”
“It ain't funny!” Harry snaps loudly. “It ain't fun lovin’ somebody who thinks you're a problem. Somebody who wishes you'd get lost. Somebody who's always communicatin’ that you're in the way.”
I glance over and see Harry balling his bear paw hands into fists. In his mind, Inez's baby blues are really working him over. He fires off a series of curses, and his thunder rolls.
“I tried to be a good father,” Harry bitterly recounts. “I swear to God, I tried! I did the Lamaze classes. I turned my home office into a nursery and painted the walls bright blue and yellow with smilin’ moons and stars. I was there when the doc pulled Claude out. I was the one who stayed up nights with ’em when he had colic. I—not Clarisse!—saw ’em take his first step.”
“Harry, I know you were a good father,” I say quickly. “I was just saying that if you and Inez were to get…”
“Do you think I wanted people thinkin’ I was jealous of my son?” Harry rails. “Do you think I enjoyed ’em makin’ jokes about me bein’ the baby instead'a Claude? How do you think I felt havin’ to compete for my own wife's affections?”
“Look, H. I know it must've hurt, but … ”
“Hurt!” he scoffs. “I could'a handled hurt. I could'a beat hurt down. But this was different! This sucked out my spirit. I was a walkin’ dead man until Inez. And I ain't lettin’ her go. I ain't losin’ Inez to nothin’ or no-body!”
Harry's jaw hardens, and he looks slowly over at me. Lightning bolts of anger arc across the hazy sky behind his sad eyes. “Inez is cheatin’ on me, Denmark.”
Inez's sobbing whisper echoes back: “Harry's got a girlfriend, Denmark.“
Later for this! One of them is lying. Maybe they both are. Either way, I'm not getting boxed into the middle of this chaos. I'll support Harry, but I'm not going to referee, and I'm definitely staying away from Inez.
So I proceed carefully. I reach into the glove box, pull out some tissues, and give them to Harry. “I'm sorry to hear that, H,” I say softly. “I'm really and truly sorry.”
“Not as sorry as Inez's boyfriend is gonna be,” Harry growls, wiping his eyes. “I'm'a make ’im curse his momma for not killin’ ’im at birth.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“No, but you can bet the bank that I'm'a find out!”
I shake my head in dismay. “This sucks.”
“I'm'a send that wife-screwin’ toad to the deepest, hottest part of hell.”
“Whoa, slow your roll,” I caution. “Look, Harry. I know you love Inez, but the last thing we need is another brother behind bars. Are you sure Inez is cheating?”
His eyes cloud back over with tears as he looks straight into mine. “She won't let me touch her, Denmark. It's been weeks now. She says it's because she wants to get pregnant and I keep using condoms. But that's a lie! Another man's hittin’ my spot!”
Inez's sobbing whisper echoes back: “He won't make love to me, Denmark. Not even with a condom. That's how I know.”
“It's gotta be somebody I know,” Harry announces. “Them cop shows always say it's somebody you know.”
I look hard at Harry. He looks hard back at me. His bear paw hands haven't moved, but I'm watching. “Denmark,” he calls, sniffling, “you're the only one I trust.”
My heart resumes beating. “H, are you saying that you don't trust Gordon?”
“Absolutely not!” he declares. “Man, you know Gordon's a dog. He'd screw a mailbox if it was wearing a skirt.” He clenches his jaw and stares morosely ahead, seeing but not seeing. “Them cop shows always say it's somebody you know. And from what I know of Gordon, he needs watchin’.”
I'm tempted to ask Harry if he's also watching Inez, since the only way someone can cheat with her is if she's cheating with them, just like she tried with me! But Harry's not ready to deal with Inez being another man's willing lover. Forcing him to confront that possibility is asking for trouble. He might get agitated and wonder why I'm trying to make him turn on his wife, so forget it.
Harry looks at me, his expression drawn and eyes forlorn. “Denmark, I'm guessing that there's probably not much you don't tell Sierra, but could you keep this …”
“There are no secrets between me and Sierra.”
He purses his lips and nods sadly. “Will you at least think about keepin’ this …” He slumps with wearied frustration. “
Never mind,” he groans. “I just remembered that you said Sierra goes to that Our Hair beauty salon where Inez gets her hair and nails done.”
“Yes,” I answer, nodding. “Sierra, and just about every sister I know on this side of Cleveland, goes to Our Hair.”
Harry grimaces. “Then I guess it don't make no difference.”
“What doesn't?”
“With the way Inez runs her mouth, always puttin’ our business in the streets, Sierra will hear about it durin’ her next visit.”
That's another reason why I love and cherish my baby. She doesn't run all over town blabbing our secrets to family, friends, or co-workers. What happens in our marriage stays in our marriage.
“I swear, man,” Harry grumbles. “I can't win for losin’.”
I glance at my watch. Time's wasting, and I've got to get going. Harry's my good friend, but Sierra's my darling wife, and as bad as I feel for him, I'm not going to let him stymie my anniversary plans.
I turn into the Hog Jowls lot, park, and give him a soft punch to the shoulder. “Come on, H. Let's go inside and eat. You'll feel better.”
We get out of the Corvette and head inside. Just as we get to the door, Harry grips my arm and stares hard into my eyes. “Denmark, I mean what I said,” he rumbles. “You're the only one I trust.”
SIX
Harry and I stroll through the front door of the Hog Jowls restaurant, and the scent of frying bacon pulls us inside.
“Man, do you smell that?” Harry asks, inhaling with an appreciative moan. “Cleo knows how to work that skillet.”
The place is humming with the noise of conversation, the myriad smells of cooking food, and a booming radio that's tuned to a station doing a ’60s soul music tribute.
“I'll see ya'll in a bit,” Harry says, hurrying toward the bathroom. “Nature's hollerin’ ‘Go now, or else!’ ”
Other Men's Wives Page 3