“Why? Why do you do it? Mess around with men like this.”
Cleo yawned. It was way too early for one of these conversations. “It’s fun. I’m one of those women who just love sex.” Cleo smiled hard. “It’s a gift.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Yeah, it is. What do you want? My whole sob story?”
“Who molested you?”
“Not a single soul.”
“No woman does this for fun.”
“I’m different.”
“You make money off this?”
“I’m keeping my head above water.”
“Making waves when you can?”
Cleo swung her body around to straddle the man in her bed. “You could say that,” she said.
Cleo licked the man’s neck and then leaned in to nibble at the salty skin behind his ear. She could feel his body relax beneath her. He put both his hands on her back and sighed.
He shifted, inserting himself in her and then moving swiftly. In five minutes he was done. She crawled off and lay beside him, listening to his breath begin to even out.
“What do you think they’re saying in that song,” he whispered to Cleo. He was half asleep and his voice was low and soft.
“What are you talking about?”
“Good Times. The song. You think they’re saying ‘hanging in and jiving’ or ‘hanging in a chow line’?”
Cleo knew the man was more asleep than awake. She wasn’t sure if he was actually talking in his sleep or expecting an answer.
“I never really thought about it,” she said.
The man’s eyes fluttered open and then closed again. “It’s ‘hanging in and jiving,’ ” he said.
“How do you know?” Cleo asked.
The man began to snore softly. Cleo rolled her eyes and got up and dressed. She took out her camera phone, leaned in next to his face, and snapped a photo of herself kissing him on the cheek. Then she helped herself to a handful of the hundred-dollar bills he always kept in a knot in his pocket and let herself out.
KIPENZI HAD THE ENTIRE SPA AT CAP JULUCA SHUT DOWN FOR THE AFTERNOON. Seven of the fourteen full-time employees were given the day off, with pay. The other seven, all handpicked by Ian, were on deck to administer facials, manicures, pedicures, and deep-tissue massages to Kipenzi and Beth. They were all older than sixty, trained professionals who spoke not a single word of English, so the women could speak freely.
In the salon, the two women were swathed in monogrammed terry cloth robes, their heads wrapped in towels. They sat side by side at a manicurist’s station. Kipenzi had landed the night before and called Beth from the back seat of the car service taking her to the private villa. Beth was staying with the boys at their home nearby. They’d made plans to meet the next morning, when the sitter arrived.
“It’s been a week, Kipenzi. And I have no idea where Z is.”
Beth looked over at her friend. The woman doing Kipenzi’s nails was applying the clear top coat. Kipenzi was leaning over, watching each stroke.
“He’s out here,” said Kipenzi, her eyes on her nails. “You’d know if he wasn’t.”
“I think he’s with this chick over in Saint Thomas. I know he messes with her sometimes when he comes out here. But I lost her number.”
Kipenzi looked up from her nails. She wrinkled her eyebrows and blinked at Beth as if she didn’t recognize her. “Why would you ever have some side chick’s number?”
Beth shrugged. “She called me once or twice.”
“And you talked to her? And kept her number? I swear I love you. But I just don’t understand you.” Kipenzi shook her head and then leaned over to look at her nails once more.
“You really think Jake is faithful to you, Kipenzi?”
Kipenzi’s lips set into a thin line. She didn’t turn her head in Beth’s direction. “I’m pretty sure,” she said.
“But he might be cheating. Right? He very well could be, right?” Beth knew she should just leave it alone. But she couldn’t help it. She hated it when Kipenzi got judgmental.
“The truth is,” Beth said, “Jake could be cheating on you. I know that Z’s not always faithful to me. But I do know he’s completely honest with me. I don’t like the other women. But I hate crack more than I hate groupies.”
“Actually, I’m thinking both should be equally offensive.”
“I want Z to love me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I want him to love me and only me. He doesn’t love any of the other women he’s ever been with.”
“But he’s had other children, affected your health … Isn’t there another chick pregnant right now?”
“Now she’s denying it’s his baby.”
“Um, good?” Kipenzi asked.
“Did you hear about the book, Kipenzi?”
Kipenzi clenched her teeth and turned to look at Beth. “Is Jake in it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I swear. I don’t know. I know Z’s in it. I don’t even have to ask.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen them photographed together before. And one of the engineers at the studio told me that a girl named Cleo did some interlude on his last album. Pretending like she was fucking him. Except she really was.”
Kipenzi just nodded. “But you haven’t heard anything about Jake …”
“No. I haven’t. But God forbid your perfect husband was slumming with a groupie.”
Kipenzi’s eyes widened. “Yes, Beth. God forbid. Jake’s not perfect. But I’m wrong to be worried about him being in this chick’s book?”
“Are you concerned about him being in the book or knowing that he cheated?”
“Both.”
“I think you could get over it if there was no book. You don’t want your reputation tarnished. Don’t want your business on Front Street.”
“Can you blame me?”
Beth shrugged. “You knew what you were getting when you married him.”
“I’m not like you,” Kipenzi spat. “I’m not going to sit back and give my husband tacit permission to fuck other women.” She shook her head. “No. I won’t.”
“I don’t think Jake’s in the book,” Beth said. “He’s not as stupid as my husband. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t cheat on you. Jake gets pussy thrown at him on an hourly basis. I haven’t met a man yet who consistently resists.”
“Beth, I trust Jake. I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t.”
Beth nodded. “I know. Don’t listen to me. I’m tripping. Z’s got me all screwed up in the head. I got the kids here. No one knows where the hell he is.”
“Beth. Do you think he’s back on …”
Beth gave Kipenzi a stony look. She knew exactly what she was trying to ask but she wasn’t going to make it easy for her. “On what?”
“Is he using again?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
Kipenzi rolled her eyes and spoke in a heavy whisper. “Oh for God’s sake, Beth. You follow him to Anguilla while you’re pregnant. The boys should be in school. Why else would you come chasing him out here if you weren’t worried about that?”
“He left without telling me and I just thought it was weird.”
“And now it’s been a week and you still haven’t seen him and you’re not sure if he’s back on that shit?”
“Why do you want to know? So you can tell Jake? He’s still using you to spy on my husband?”
“Still? What do you mean, still? When did he ever do that?”
“Whatever. In Atlanta. He switched the order of the show and made Z open up for him.”
“Beth. The promoters decided to alternate. Jake had no control over that. You know this.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever?”
“You heard me. What-fucking-ever!”
Beth scraped her chair back, leaned forward to steady herself on the manicurist’s station, and then stood up straight. “I didn’t ask you to come out
here and check on me.”
Kipenzi looked down at her hands. “I know you didn’t.”
“So don’t act like I owe you something.”
“I’m your friend, Beth. I came out here because I’m your—”
Beth looked up, past Kipenzi, through the glass window of the spa. Z was standing there, watching them both. She felt rooted to her spot. He was standing on the grass, just off the walkway leading from the main building of the hotel down to the spa. Beth wondered how long he’d been standing there. His hair was long and matted, gray strands rippling through from the crown to his ears. His face had three deep cuts caked with blood and pus, under his left eye. He stood with both hands pressed flat against the window. He looked like he was under arrest and being patted down by police officers. Except he was alone, his eyes dead, his lips white, and the pinks of his palms pressed into the window.
“Baby?”
As soon as Beth whispered the word, Z began to slide down the window, his body crumpling. He slid farther, keeping his hands pressed against the window until his knees were on the ground.
“Baby!” Beth yelled out. She shuffled out of the spa and hurried around to the window. She bent down to grab Z just before he was completely in the grass.
“Fuck her,” Z said. His voice was thick and his breath was hot and rancid.
Beth looked around the resort and saw the manager standing a few feet away, asking wordlessly if she needed help. Beth shook her head and held up a hand. The manager backed away, shooing away a few employees who were leaning in to get a look at Z and Beth. Beth leaned down as far as she could and tried to pull Z up.
“Yo. Fuck that bitch!” Z screamed, pointing through the window at Kipenzi, who sat watching in horror. The employees in the salon began to get nervous, whispering in Russian about leaving by the back door.
“Z, you’re sick, baby,” Beth pleaded. “Let’s get you well.”
“No.”
Beth nodded and tried to pull Z’s dead weight. “Yes, baby. You want me to get you some medicine?”
“I want you to leave me the fuck alone!”
Z grabbed the tiny metal ledge surrounding the building and hoisted himself up to a squat. He turned away from Beth, vomited in the grass, wiped his mouth with his hands, and then wiped them on his pants.
“I’m outta here.”
“Yes, let’s go.”
“No. Not you. Go home.”
“Listen, Z. You have to—”
Z’s skinny arm shot out and he throttled Beth, slamming her back against the salon window. All the women in the salon screamed at once. All except Kipenzi, who just watched. The resort manager stepped over to Beth and Z.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the property.”
“Z, please,” Beth sobbed, and then began to gag.
“Go the fuck home, Beth. Take the kids. I don’t need them to see me all fucked up and shit.”
“Okay,” Beth managed to choke out. “Just … le … Let. Me. Go …”
Z leaned in close and bared his teeth at his wife. “Stop fucking following me, Beth. I gotta do what I gotta do.”
Beth didn’t answer. She had no more breath in her throat to do so. She tried to use her eyes to say yes. He was gripping her neck so tight that she couldn’t nod.
“You and your little friend get the fuck outta here.” Z slid Beth’s head over a few inches so he could see Kipenzi. “And you, ugly bitch, you can tell Jake I said fuck him!”
Kipenzi sat in the chair, nostrils flared, chest heaving. But the rest of her body was still. She didn’t dare move. Z loosened his grip on his wife’s neck but didn’t completely let go.
“Go back to New York, Beth,” he muttered under his breath. “You hear me?”
“No.”
“Take the boys home,” Z said, panic rising in his voice.
Beth’s voice was flat and even. “No, Z. I’m not leaving.”
Z dropped his hand from her neck and it hung at his side, as if he could no longer use it. He looked Beth in her eyes, then turned away and began to cry.
“I don’t want to be here, Beth,” he said, sobbing. He put his hands on his knees to steady himself as his cries racked his body, causing his back to spasm. “Oh Jesus, I don’t want to do this to you … to the baby, to the boys … I just can’t stop. Why can’t I stop, Beth?”
Beth turned her head just an inch to the left. In her peripheral vision she could see Kipenzi, her arms still crossed, her eyes still fixed on Z. Beth knew Kipenzi had to see her glance over, but her friend did not move.
Z continued to cry until he began to heave and catch ragged breaths instead. As Beth continued to offer him words of comfort and occasional back pats, the manager approached.
“Mrs. Saddlebrook, I’ve called the authorities and they are on the way. I’m sorry. But we need to remove your husband from the property. There are photographers on the property as well. I’m trying to have them removed.”
“Baby, we gotta get outta here,” Beth said. “Did you drive here?”
Z looked up at Beth as if he’d never seen her before in his life. “I want to see my mom,” he moaned.
“Your mom is not here,” Beth said, lifting him up. She walked Z over to a bar near the pool and sat him down.
“He’s okay,” she said to the young girl behind the bar, who was supposed to be preparing a piña colada. But she simply stared at Z with her mouth open.
“He just needs something to eat. Do you have a piece of fruit?”
The bartender reached under the counter without taking her eyes off Z and produced a banana.
“Eat this,” Beth said. “I’ll be right back.”
She went back into the spa, holding her head high, and walked over to where Kipenzi was sitting. Neither of them said a word. Kipenzi was still staring at the spot where Z had slammed Beth against the window. She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth, as if the scene from two minutes before was playing on a loop in her mind. Without moving her head or averting her gaze, Kipenzi reached into her bag and took out a pair of car keys.
“Here’s the key to my rental,” she said. “You can leave it at your house and I’ll have someone pick it up and bring it back.”
Kipenzi held the keys in the air. After a half-second pause, Beth took them and closed her hands around them.
Beth opened her mouth and then shut it.
“It’s fine. Just go.”
Beth’s nostrils flared. She kept her head high as she walked slowly out of the salon. But she quickened her step back to the bar, where Z was slumped over the counter. Just as she got to where Z was sitting, she saw the manager leading two uninformed officers along the walkway leading to the spa.
“They tryin’ to lock me up?” Z asked, his mouth thick with phlegm.
Beth did not answer him. She noticed an employees’ entrance to the hotel’s main restaurant.
“This way,” she said, pulling him up and draping his arm across her shoulders.
“Excuse me, miss,” said the young woman at the bar. “You can’t go in—”
Beth turned to look at her. And the girl couldn’t even complete her thought. Beth knew the girl was taking them in—her swollen belly, the kerchief covering her hair, and the crackhead, whose head kept lolling back, forcing her to readjust his body weight so he didn’t fall.
Beth turned back around and walked through the back entrance to the kitchen. They walked straight across and out an exit that led to the main parking lot and came around to the front of the building, where Kipenzi had parked her car, right behind where the Anguillan police sedan now sat.
She clicked the alarm on the roadster and eased Z into the front seat. As soon as he was adjusted, he began coughing hard. Beth found a tissue in the glove compartment. He spat into it and the phlegm was tinged with blood.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Z whispered.
“We’re going to take care of you,” Beth said.
“I’m not even worth it. I promise
d you I was gonna take care of you. I’m all fucked up.”
“When did you start using again?” Beth asked, as she steered the car onto the main road that circled the island.
“Don’t remember.”
“When’s the last time?”
Z pulled the lever to let his seat go back and then winced and covered his eyes with his hands. “A week ago.”
Beth took her eyes off the road just long enough to look at her husband. “You haven’t used out here?”
He shook his head. “I came down here to try to detox, baby. I’m fucking dying right now.”
Z cried softly and leaned against the window. Beth carefully pulled to the side of the road and turned the car off. She leaned over as much as her belly would allow and cradled her husband’s head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m just tired, Beth. I’m tired of using. Tired of needing that shit.”
Z dug into the pockets of his filthy jeans and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Beth smoothed it out. There was an Anguillan address written in Z’s graffitilike script, the name of a D. Smith, and a four-digit number.
“What is this?”
“Just take me there. Now.”
Beth plugged the address into the GPS system and followed the directions. They led her to a hilltop a few miles inland. A white gate with the name smith etched inside was closed and locked. There was a keypad at window level. She looked over at Z, who pointed to the crumpled paper again. She punched in the four-digit number under the address and the white gates swung open slowly.
“Z, what is this?”
Z kept his eyes half closed and just waved a hand at his wife. “Drive.”
When Beth pulled up to a circular driveway, there was a tall, elderly, dark-skinned black man with curly white hair standing at the entrance with a clipboard. He looked as if he was expecting Beth—or someone. He stepped to the driver’s side of the car as soon as Beth put the car in park.
“Mrs. Saddlebrook?”
Beth looked over at Z again. His eyes were still shut tight.
“Yes, I’m Beth.”
The man opened the door and beckoned Beth to get out. A young man who looked like he could be the older man’s son appeared on Z’s side and eased him out of the car and into the large white house.
Platinum Page 20