Sweet Little Lies

by Bianca Sloane

  His hands flew up to Geneva’s throat, and he squeezed her windpipe, willing it to break.

  “Get your hands off me!” she gasped, her hands clawing at his, her eyes starting to bug out with fear.

  He tightened his grip. “You stay the fuck away from me. I don’t care if you are pregnant. It’s got nothing do to with me.” He flung Geneva away from him and picked up his briefcase.

  Geneva rubbed her throat, coughing. “I can’t believe you would do this to the mother of your child,” she wheezed.

  “Listen, you fat bitch, I will kill you if you don’t get the hell out of here.” The veins in Mark’s neck were bulging by now, his eyes shooting bullets. Geneva wiped away a tear that had found its way down her face.

  “Alright, I can see you’re not ready to face this. I’ll give you a few days.”

  Mark dropped his briefcase. “Get out.”

  Geneva began to back away, and Mark watched her run to her car and screech out of the parking lot. He let out the pent-up breath he’d been holding and hung his head for a moment. Mark shut the door and then went in search of the phone. He dialed and waited.

  “Yeah, hi, this is Marcus Monroe in 207. I need the locks changed on my door. We had a break-in.”

  The Road To Hell…

  It was a week later when Geneva showed up outside Mark’s office. He was leaving for the night and stopped cold when he saw her. She strutted up to him, waving a piece of paper in her hand.

  “Hey, baby—how you doin’?” Geneva smiled and went to put her arms around Mark, but he was too quick for her and wrenched them down before she could get to him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She cracked her gum and fluttered the piece of paper she was holding in Mark’s face. “I got my test results from the doctor.” She paused and smiled. “Congratulations, Daddy.”

  Mark snatched the paper out of Geneva’s hand and looked at it. He scanned it before he crumpled it up.

  Geneva laughed. “That don’t change anything. We’re still gonna have a baby.”

  “Stop it.”

  She shook her head and continued laughing. “You know this means we have to get married.”

  He slapped her, desperate to stop her cackling. Geneva’s hand flew to her face.

  “I can’t believe you would treat the mother of your child that way!”

  Mark threw the piece of paper at her and went into his pocket for his car keys. He looked at her. “It’s got nothing to do with me. It’s not mine. I don’t care what you do, but hear this. I’m not marrying you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  Mark shoved his car key into the door and got inside. She stood with her hand on her hips, and he saw her staring at him in the rearview mirror. He shuddered.

  “No way in hell,” he muttered.

  No Way Out…

  Geneva wasn’t exactly the type to take “no” for answer, so she decided it was her mission in life to make Mark’s life as miserable as she could.

  She would call his office up to one hundred times a day. At night, she would stand underneath his apartment window screaming for him to marry her so she wouldn’t have a bastard child. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, she keyed his car and punched a nail in all four tires, causing him to miss a deposition and get a reprimand from his superiors. She threw rocks at his windows, showed up at his office on a regular basis demanding he see her, and causing all kinds of scenes while she was at it. He was the subject of hushed water cooler conversations and bewilderment over Geneva not being his “type.”

  If they only knew.

  He offered her money for an abortion. That suggestion prompted her to show up at his office wielding a razor and threatening to slit her wrists in front of everyone. The police had to be called. Mark wasn’t sleeping, and Spence told him to get the situation under control or pack up and get out. Fifteen pounds slid off his body, and he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  The last straw was the day she climbed on the window ledge of some cheap motel in the Quarter, threatening to jump if the police didn’t bring Mark to her. It was torture. She wailed and moaned about how much she loved him and if she couldn’t have him, she might as well end her life and the life of their unborn child. He almost walked out, ready to let her hurl herself to the pavement below; he could imagine her bones breaking, blood squishing out of her insides, her neck snapping into a million little pieces. Better yet, what if he pushed her himself? It would end this mess forever.

  However, the police needled him to negotiate with this terrorist, to coax her down from the ledge. Why did they think he cared? Why didn’t they understand he wanted her to take the quick way down?

  However, his sense of morality and, he would begrudgingly admit later, his own memories about what it had been like to grow up without a father won out, and he gave in. No matter how he felt about this woman, he couldn’t sentence a child to her. Or the responsibility borne of having to be the man of the house at too young an age. Especially with a psychopath like Geneva.

  He poked his head outside the window where she was perched; Mark wasn’t altogether sure how she didn’t slip off the ledge, big as she was. He said they would get married and would she please come down and stop endangering their child? They had to go through a few rounds of this, since she didn’t trust him, certain he would back out of his promise. Somehow, he was able to sound convincing enough, and a jubilant Geneva lumbered off the ledge and threw her arms around him, promising him a great life.

  The only thing Mark could see was a life sentence.

  •

  The morning of the wedding, Mark sat at Tim’s kitchen table staring out the window, a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. Tim slid into the chair across from him.

  “You don’t have to do this, man. There are ways around it.”

  “No, there aren’t.”

  “You can have her declared legally unfit—hell, she’s got a rap sheet longer than my arm. No judge in their right mind would think she was competent to raise a kid. You got a million witnesses who can testify she’s about ten sandwiches short of a picnic.”

  Mark rubbed his eyes. “She’ll just keep coming at me. She won’t stop until she grinds me down to dust. Even that won’t be enough. No matter what I do, she’s not going to stop.”

  “Okay, let me help you. Give me a couple of days, and I’ll work up some more strategies—”

  “Don’t you understand?” Mark said. “She’s either going to drive me to kill her or kill myself. If marrying her will give me some peace…” He held up his hands in defeat and turned back towards the window.

  “You think marrying her will make it better?” Tim scoffed. “Once she gets her hooks into you, she’s not gonna let go.”

  “She’s already got me trapped. At least…” Mark sighed and clasped his hands together. “At least I can be there until the baby is born and then maybe one day—”

  “One day what?”

  “One day, I’ll be able to get out of this. I don’t know how or when, but for now…” Mark shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the table. “Besides, I already told you…I know what it’s like to grow up without a father. Deep down, I couldn’t let that happen to my child. I always said if I had kids, I would want them to have both parents. And if it means I’ve got to put up with Geneva…well, that’s just the way it is.”

  Tim’s mouth was pinched into a frustrated slash across his face. “Man, you are making the biggest mistake of your life.”

  “I guess it’s my mistake to make.”

  Tim sighed and shook his head. “I promise you…you marry this woman…you’ve just signed your death warrant.”

  The Truth Doesn’t Always Set You Free…

  Mark jumped when the phone rang. He hoped to God it wasn’t Geneva. She’d already called him four times today, and it was barely nine-fifteen.

  “Marcus Monroe.”

  “Hey, baby. I was thinking I could come down and b
ring you lunch today. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Mark put the phone down on the desk, fighting back the tears that seemed to hover around his eyes all the time now. “I have a client coming in for lunch today. Stop calling me.”

  “But—”

  Mark slammed the handset down before Geneva had a chance to say anything. He looked at it and jammed the “Do Not Disturb” button on the phone. Hopefully that would keep her at bay for a few hours.

  He laid his head down on the desk, willing himself not to jump out of the nearest window. It had been three weeks since he and Geneva had gotten married. Tim had served as their witness and convinced Geneva to let him take Mark out to celebrate afterwards. Tim managed to get Mark so drunk that he took him back to his house to pass out. Geneva was there first thing in the morning pounding on the door, demanding to see her husband. Mark told her they were husband and wife in name only and if she laid a finger on him, he’d slit her throat and dump her body so deep in the St. Charles River, no one would ever find it.

  While Geneva stayed who knew where, Mark sometimes slept in a sleeping bag at the office and, on occasion, crashed at Tim’s. Other times he stayed at different motels, constantly moving so she couldn’t find him. However, that did not stop her incessant calls to his office or stopping by his office and bombarding him with questions about who he was with, where he was, and what he was doing.

  He sometimes thought the light he saw at the end of the tunnel was a Mack truck.

  •

  Mark was sitting in the firm’s research library when the receptionist burst in looking for him.

  “Mr. Monroe! Mr. Monroe, it’s your wife—”

  Mark slammed the book he was holding down on the table, furious. “What?”

  The receptionist was taken aback but plowed through. “She’s at the hospital. I think she’s having a miscarriage.”

  Mark gave a resigned sigh and rubbed his eyes. “Alright. What hospital?”

  “Tulane University. You should hurry. It doesn’t sound good.”

  She rushed out, and he ran his hands over his face.

  If she lost the baby, I’d be free. I’d be free…

  He felt a glimmer of hope and rushed out to the hospital.

  Exit Strategy…

  Geneva lost the baby.

  As was her way, she carried on so much, the doctors finally had to give her a sedative. Mark tried not to cringe when the doctor laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder and said they could try again soon. It was all he could do not to somersault out of there with glee.

  She had to stay in the hospital for a few extra days, and those few days were the first moments of peace Mark had known in a long time. He’d started annulment proceedings, but in the meantime, he just wanted to relax. He’d gone back to his apartment for the first time in weeks and was downing a beer and watching the wavy picture of a ballgame on the ancient TV when the phone rang. He felt that familiar knot in his stomach and hesitated a second before he answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, may I speak to Marcus Monroe please?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Brad Banks, of Bell, Banks, and Crawford.”

  Mark straightened up. Bell, Banks, and Crawford was one of the largest firms in the country.

  “Mr. Banks, how are you?”

  “I’m just fine, Marcus—may I call you Marcus?”

  “Oh, yes, yes absolutely.” Mark held his breath, waiting for Brad to speak.

  “Well, Marcus, we’ve been hearing quite a bit about you, and we’re interested in talking to you. As it happens, I’m in town and wondered if we could meet for a drink?”

  Mark plunked his beer down on the warped brown coffee table, jumped up, and began to run toward his room. “Uh, yeah, yeah, that would be fine. Where are you staying?”

  “The Chateau Dupre. You know it?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll meet you in the bar there, say fifteen minutes?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then. I’ll be the only guy in the whole place wearing a suit.”

  Mark laughed. “Welcome to New Orleans.”

  He hung up before he let out a victorious, “Yes!” He stood still a moment before he dialed Tim.

  “So, what favor did you call in?”

  “Hey, man, you always said you wanted to live in the big city. Now’s your chance. Coincidentally, how’d you figure it out?”

  “Come on, any firm with balls has done background on me. All this shit that’s been going on…who’d want me?”

  “My dad went to law school at Penn with Brad Banks, and I just happened to mention to him you were looking to make a move…”

  “And he put in a call to his old law school classmate.”

  “What’s the good in knowing people if you can’t call in favors once in a while? And now with this miscarriage…”

  “I love your timing, man.”

  “ ‘Course you’ll have to take the bar again.”

  “I passed it once, I’ll pass it again. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Alright. Later.”

  Mark hung up and jerked a pair of khakis and a crisp sky blue button-down out of the closet. He was trembling, and he realized he was nervous.

  His entire life depended on this meeting.

  So Long…

  Brad Banks was quite impressed with Marcus Monroe and said he wanted to get him up to Chicago to meet the rest of the partners. Mark pressed to fly up sooner rather than later. Two Days Later, he was on a plane for Chicago, and on the way back to New Orleans, he was confident he’d be getting a call. In the meantime, Geneva came sniffing around the apartment looking for him, and Mark resumed his musical motels game. He was biding his time. He continued with the annulment while he waited for that call from Bell, Banks, and Crawford.

  And finally it came.

  “Marcus Monroe.”

  “Marcus? Brad Banks. How are you?”

  He closed his eyes and said a little prayer. “I’m great. How about yourself?”

  “Well, it’s snowing up here today. You ready for that?”

  Mark felt the smile break out on his face and pumped his fist once in the air for victory. “Well, as you know, I’m from East St. Louis, so I’m used to snow.”

  “You sure all that New Orleans sunshine hasn’t spoiled you?”

  Mark laughed. “No, sir. I actually kind of miss snow.”

  •

  He knew he had to move fast.

  Bell, Banks, and Crawford had offered to put him up in corporate housing until he could find a place in Chicago. His annulment was pending, and he continued to prepare for his move to Chicago. He managed to stay just one step ahead of Geneva, not wanting her to know he was skipping town and try to follow him. As part of his new life, he’d decided to permanently go by Mark, since a lot of people called him that anyway. Besides, it would be one more way to dodge Geneva.

  Unable to locate Mark, Geneva had shown up at Tim’s house looking for him and was arrested for trespassing, so that bought him a few extra days. Finally, Mark wrapped up at Spence, spent one last night getting drunk with Tim, and then took off for his new life.

  Sometimes, They Come Back…

  Mark hummed as he jumped out of the cab in front of his office. It was Friday, and he and Kelly were leaving later to go to New York for a few days.

  He just had a few things to finish up before he met Kelly at her office and they left for the airport. He smiled. They’d just celebrated their two-year wedding anniversary, but it was like they were still on their honeymoon. Of course, from the moment they met, it was like a honeymoon. He used to kid around with his brother when he would see her picture on magazine covers and declare that he would marry her. Of course he was joking, but when he saw her walk into that gallery that night, he knew it was over. She’d waited for him to come up to her, as she knew he would, and the chemistry crackled in the air between them. She was the one he’d waited for his entire life, the one he knew was out
there.

  She was the one who healed him.

  He smiled to himself and asked the security guard at the front desk of the massive high-rise office building where he worked how he was doing. The elevator glided up to the thirty-fifth floor, and Mark all but bounded out into the reception area.

  “Good morning, Nancy,” he said to the receptionist.

  “Good morning, Mr. Monroe. All ready for your trip?”

  “Yeah, just gotta few more things to finish up before we take off.”

  “Did I hear right that you’re going to Fashion Week?”

  Mark laughed. “Oh, yeah. Kelly has to go for business, and she wants to see her sister. I’ve never been to Fashion Week, and she says it’s something else.”

  Nancy gave him a warm smile. “You are going to have so much fun. I love New York. Couldn’t live there, but I just love to visit. Have a great trip.”

  Mark nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Nancy. We will.”

  He continued to walk toward his office, saying hello to everyone he saw. Finally, he reached his spacious office, set down his briefcase, and took off his coat. He fired up his computer and then hit the message button on his phone to check voicemail. In the middle of checking email, Kelly called.

  “Hey, sexy,” he grinned.

  “Hey yourself.”

  He couldn’t help it. She just made him giddy, and he had a hard time keeping the smile off his face.

  “What’s up, baby?”

  “I forgot to ask you this morning if you called the car service.”

  Mark sucked in his breath. “Shoot. Totally slipped my mind.”

  She laughed. “Poor Mark. So many things to remember. And you offered to call!”

  “I know, I know. I don’t know how I’ve managed to have a successful law career all this time.”

  She laughed again. “Me either. I’m glad I never have to be one of your clients.”