Sweet Little Lies

by Bianca Sloane

  Mark took a step toward Kelly, when she grabbed a knife out of the holder on the counter next to the wine bottle. Mark stopped short and held his hands up. He wanted to cry for what he was making her do and struggled to keep the tears inside.

  He swallowed, and his own tears began their inevitable slide downward. “I never wanted this to happen. I was terrified this would happen,” he whispered.

  She set the knife down on the table, her hand still on the handle. She placed her other hand over her eyes and started to cry again. Mark licked his lips and took a few steps toward her, hoping he could convince her to come into the living room. He had to get through to her.

  He took a few more tentative steps toward her. She heard him or sensed him, because her eyes flew open, and she turned.

  “Mark, just leave me the hell alone!” she screamed as she swung around, the knife still in her hand.

  Mark gasped as he realized what had happened. He felt his insides rip apart, and it felt like…water…draining…draining out of him…

  She stabbed me. Oh, God, she stabbed me. Oh, Kelly. Kelly.

  “Kelly,” he whispered.

  He kept his eyes on hers, as if that would keep him here, keep him with her. Kelly tried to pull the knife out, but that only made it worse, and he grunted. He looked up at her, saw her tears, felt his own unbearable pain. She was trying to pull the knife out, but it wasn’t working. Finally, the knife came free, and he stumbled backwards. He struggled to stay standing, but his legs started to give way. He could barely hear her yelling out to him, her words garbled, like they had fallen underwater.

  Desperately he clutched for the marble countertop. He missed and continued to slide away from Kelly. He felt the heel of his shoe land on a piece of the glass Kelly had slammed down. He skidded across the floor on that shard, knocking over the bottle of wine Kelly had set down earlier. The impact of the bottle shattering against the tile gave a faint echo, like it was coming from a far away room. He slammed back against the pantry door, and his head clunked on the doorknob. He slid down, clutching his stomach.

  So much blood…so much blood…

  He felt Kelly stroke his head and face. It felt so good. So soft. He could have stayed there forever. She was talking. He could only barely make out the words, see her mouth moving. He heard her run into the living room. He grunted softly and stared unseeing at the kitchen counter. The darkness was coming. He heard her talking some more and then felt her hand squeeze his. With all the strength he had left, he squeezed back. He continued to hear her talk but couldn’t understand what she was saying. She was stroking his face and…her voice…it was so…quiet. She smiled at him. He smiled back faintly.

  “I love you, Kelly,” he whispered. “I’ll always love you.”

  Mark closed his eyes.

  One More Piece Of Business…

  Kelly’s eyes popped open.

  She was on a bus back to Chicago, and it was now pulling into Union Station. It was ten p.m., and she’d been dozing. New Orleans had taken everything she had mentally, physically, spiritually, and she didn’t want to run anymore. She couldn’t.

  However, she had one more thing to do before she turned herself in.

  The station was empty, and Kelly kept blinking her eyes to try and wake herself up and get her bearings. She stepped out into the crisp night air and looked around for a cab. She saw one on the opposite side of the street, ran over, and got inside.

  “The Harlem exit off the Kennedy. I’ll tell you where to go from there,” she instructed.

  Kelly leaned back against the seat cushions. She hoped her car was where she left it and, if it was, that a swarm of cops wasn’t all over it. She rolled down the window a little and let the rush of cool wind wash over her. It rejuvenated her a bit, and she took several deep breaths to steel herself for the task ahead. She thought about Mark and what she and Geneva had done to him. He had tried so hard to get her to listen, but she just didn’t want to hear the sound of his voice. How would she have reacted if he’d been able to tell her the whole story that day? Kelly put her head down and looked at her hands, which were clenched together in her lap.

  She would never know. The only thing she knew for sure was that Mark would still be alive.

  The cabbie got off at Harlem, and she told him which way to turn until he reached the street where she’d left her car. Miraculously, it was still there. She said a silent ‘thank you’ and dug into her wallet to get money for the fare. That three thousand dollars Patric had wired her was dwindling fast. She scrounged in her purse for her keys before she got in her car, looked around to make sure no one was around, opened the door, and got in. She looked out the windows to see if a throng of police was jumping out to grab her.

  There were none.

  She let out a slow breath and started the car.

  The Two Mrs. Monroes…

  Geneva rolled over and looked at the clock. It was a little after midnight. She sat up and heard it again.

  Who in the hell was ringing her doorbell at this hour?

  Groaning, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and shoved her feet into her red house shoes. Whoever it was must have been leaning on the doorbell. Before she went to the door, she went to the closet, pulled out her .22, and tucked it into the elastic waistband of her silky blue pajama bottoms.

  “Damn, just a minute,” Geneva grumbled to herself. She looked out the window next to the front door but couldn’t see anyone. She shrugged, turned away from the door, pulling the gun out of her pants. The doorbell rang again, and this time, she yanked the door open, stunned at who was on the other side.

  Kelly rushed through the doorway. Geneva was so startled, the gun slipped out of her hand and into the potted plant next to the front door.

  “So, finally, we meet,” Kelly said, slamming the door behind her.

  Geneva put her hand on her hip, thinking about how fun it would be to blow this bitch’s brains out.

  •

  “What the hell are you doing here? Don’t think I won’t call the police on your ass.”

  “Shut up. I’m doing the talking. And I wish you would call the police. I know they would be very interested to know what I know about you.”

  Geneva narrowed her eyes. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  Kelly snorted. “Well, I could start with how you raped my husband, stalked him, bullied him into marrying you, extorted money from him, threatened to kill your son, tried to kill me…” She stopped. “Should I keep going, or have you heard enough?”

  “You know I can’t wait for you to go to jail so you can be somebody’s bitch.”

  Kelly chuckled. “Well, you’d know all about being somebody’s prison bitch, wouldn’t you?”

  “Heifah, I don’t have time for this. I’m calling the police.” Geneva turned, and Kelly ran after her, flinging her around until they were face-to-face.

  “I may have stabbed Mark, but you all but put the knife in my hand. You didn’t have sex with Mark that day. You came to the house, and you made sure I would find that condom you dropped into the bed. What were you planning, Geneva, huh? What, did you think that Mark was going to leave me for you?” Kelly laughed. “Please. He couldn’t stand you.”

  “So what if we didn’t have sex that day? It didn’t mean you was supposed to kill him. What the fuck is wrong with you? You crazy?”

  “Oh, my God.” Kelly shook her head. “You really thought he would leave me, didn’t you? That I would find that condom, assume he was having an affair, throw him out, and he would come running to you.” She dropped her head in her hands. “Ugh…you stupid, stupid woman.”

  “It would have worked, too, if you hadn’t…” Geneva’s eyes welled up, and it hit Kelly; in her own twisted way, Geneva did love Mark. Geneva wiped a tear away before looking back up at Kelly. With a huge grunt and flaring nostrils, Geneva pushed Kelly, and she fell to the floor. Before she could recover, Geneva was in front of her again.

  “So what?�
� she screamed. “So what if he wanted some skinny ass bitch instead of me? I still got the money and the house and the baby.” Geneva licked her lips and leaned still closer into Kelly’s face. “And I’m gonna have all your money too.”

  Kelly gave Geneva a smug smile. “But you didn’t have Mark.”

  She wasn’t expecting the mammoth gob of spit that came flying out of Geneva’s face. It smacked her cheek, and she just sat there, stunned for a moment, before she laughed and wiped the saliva off with the back of her hand.

  “It doesn’t matter what you do, Geneva. It doesn’t change anything. Mark loved me, and he was planning to get rid of you and get full custody of his son.”

  “Please,” Geneva laughed. “I had his balls on a string. He wasn’t ever getting away from me, and he sure as hell wasn’t taking M.J.”

  “Oh, no, honey, that’s where you’re wrong. He’d been gathering evidence against you for everything. He was about to kick you out of this house and get his son. You would never see that child again, and you’d be out of Mark’s life forever.”

  Geneva snorted. “You wish.”

  “It was a fact. Your time was up, sister.”

  Geneva rolled her eyes. “Trust me, Mark wasn’t going no–where.”

  “The name Tim Landry ring a bell? You remember him, don’t you? Tim told me everything. Told me all about you and what you did to Mark. Told me all about how Mark was working to get you out of his life for good.”

  “I always hated that skinny-ass white boy.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’d hate him too if I were you. Imagine someone else knowing all the sick shit you’ve done to another person.”

  “Well, none of that matters now, does it? You killed my husband—”

  “Don’t you dare—don’t you dare call him your husband. He was never your husband!”

  “Goddamn, you. I always hated you. I wanted to just…make you go away…”

  Geneva’s face was knotted up with rage now. Her hands flew to Kelly’s throat, and she began to choke her.

  Kelly tried to wrest Geneva’s hands from around her neck but to no avail. She struggled to speak, to scream, but her voice was a squeak. She closed her eyes, knowing this was it.

  Mark…

  Kelly swallowed again, and waving her hands in front of her, she managed to make contact with Geneva’s face. Her fingers fumbled upwards and found their way into the jelly of Geneva’s eyes. She drove her thumbs inside, wincing as she did. Geneva screamed and immediately let go of Kelly, her hands covering her stinging eyes. Heaving, Kelly scrambled to stand up before Geneva recovered.

  Geneva half-screamed, half-wailed as she staggered around. “I’m gonna kill you. I am going to fucking kill you!” She dove for Kelly, who laughed as she darted out of the woman’s path.

  “You hated it, didn’t you? Hated that it was me he came home to. That I was the one he loved, who made him happy. You were just the nasty ghetto bitch who he couldn’t stand.”

  “Shut up! Shut up!”

  Kelly shook her head and continued to walk backwards, knowing that between the dark and her irritated eyes, Geneva was having trouble seeing her.

  “Did he ever tell you he loved you? Did he tell you how much you turned him on, how happy you made him? Huh? Did he?”

  Geneva ran across the room towards Kelly, who ducked as she snatched up a fireplace poker and swung it in her direction. She missed, sending the poker to clank against the bricks of the fireplace. Kelly was on her hands and knees crawling away from Geneva when she spun around and kept moving backwards. Geneva continued her advance, having retrieved the poker, a malicious peal of laughter now tumbling from her mouth.

  “It is going to feel so good to get rid of you forever,” Geneva laughed. “I’ve been waiting so long for this day to come.” She licked her lips, the glint of the poker slashing beams of light across the room.

  Kelly pursed her lips together, her mind racing. She really believed that Geneva would kill her and wouldn’t even think twice about it. Would probably toss her body in some filthy dumpster, or worse in Lake Michigan, where she’d never be found. She was a fighter, and even if Geneva did kill her, she would go down kicking and screaming. She took a deep breath and struggled to her feet.

  “You ready to go, bitch?”

  Kelly narrowed her eyes. “Are you?”

  Geneva stared at Kelly for a moment before she charged at her, poker flaring. Once again, Kelly was too quick for Geneva, and she flitted out of her reach. In an attempt to catch her, Geneva moved to the left, and her foot caught the edge of her imitation Persian area rug. She plummeted, landing face down with a definite thud on the white carpet. The fireplace poker fell to the ground beside her.

  “Oooohh!” Geneva moaned, rubbing her head. Kelly wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty brow as she stared down at her. She walked over to kick the fireplace poker away from Geneva’s reach, except she couldn’t help herself; instead, she delivered a swift kick to Geneva’s thigh. Geneva groaned, grabbing her injured leg.

  Kelly knelt down and smiled. “So glad we had this time together,” she said as she reached in her pocket for her car keys. “Mark may be gone and I may be going to jail, but at least I know he loved me. You sure as hell can’t say the same. And don’t worry. I’ll make sure the police know all about you.”

  Kelly turned to walk to the front door, exhausted. She’d just placed her hand on the knob when she heard Geneva run up behind her. She jerked around just in time to see Geneva pull the gun out of the potted plant. Gasping, Kelly dropped to the floor and threw herself against Geneva’s feet in an attempt to knock her down. Desperate, Kelly clamped her teeth around Geneva’s hefty ankle, hoping it would make her drop the gun. With a grunt, Geneva did just that, and the gun went clattering against the ceramic floor of the entryway. Geneva delivered a swift punch to the top of Kelly’s head, which caused her to lurch backwards, stunned. Kelly shook her head and tried to focus. She saw Geneva running over to pick up the gun. Knowing she was faster, Kelly popped up and sprinted ahead of her. Shocked, Geneva reached out to grab Kelly’s shirt, wrenching her back. Both women fell to the floor, Geneva landing on top of Kelly. They were grunting and gasping as they struggled. Kelly could see the gun just inches from her and shot her hand out to grab it. She managed to graze the handle with her fingertips when Geneva’s hand locked down around her own.

  “Just die…I just want you to die and get out of my life,” Geneva sobbed, and for a moment, Kelly actually felt sorry for her. As Geneva raised the gun, the feeling went away.

  In a split second, Kelly hurled herself against her, and the two women fought for the gun. Geneva jerked it down, and as the two women looked at each other, they knew only one of them would survive.

  The People We Love…

  Hanson couldn’t believe it when he got the call.

  She was dead.

  There had been a huge confrontation in Olympia Fields. The two Mrs. Monroes had struggled for a gun and now…it was all over. He walked into the station at Olympia Fields, stunned at how this had ended.

  “Mrs. Monroe?”

  She looked up. Hanson was caught off-guard. Even with a tear-stained face, her hair all chopped up, and a pretty decent make-up job, she was breathtaking. He cleared his throat again.

  “We’ve been looking for you.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Hanson shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “I have to say, you were extremely clever.”

  She sniffed. “It’s easy to get lost in a big city,” she mumbled.

  “Well, that you did. You hid in plain sight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a big time escape artist.”

  Kelly snorted softly, not responding.

  “And the airline tickets. Where’d you really go?”

  “Nowhere,” she replied.

  “Hmmm,” Hanson responded, knowing she was lying. “Why?” he asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why’d you wait to
confront Geneva?”

  Kelly pursed her lips. “I just needed a little more time. Work up my nerve.”

  Once again, she was hiding something. He decided to move on, come back to it later.

  “So, what happened that day, Mrs. Monroe?”

  Kelly opened her mouth to speak, then shut it. “If I say anything, is it going to be used against me later on?” she asked.

  “I’ve pretty much got it figured out. You came home, found the condom, freaked out, and stabbed him. Might as well tell me the rest.”

  Kelly narrowed her eyes at Hanson. “You know, I think I’ll wait until I have a lawyer with me.”

  Hanson tried another tack. “We ran a DNA test on that condom. There was nothing in it. Hadn’t been used.”

  Kelly didn’t respond.

  “So your husband didn’t sleep with Geneva that day. Or any day. But you already knew that, huh?”

  Kelly continued her silence.

  “How’d you find out about him being married? He tell you that?”

  She sidestepped his bait. “Doesn’t matter how I found out.”

  Hanson started to pace. “What happened with Geneva?”

  Kelly clicked her tongue. “Self-defense,” she said in monotone. “She came at me with the gun. It was me or her.”

  “We got a visit from Tim Landry. You know him?”

  She tilted her head. “No. Should I?”

  “Come on, he was your husband’s best friend, and you’re telling me you didn’t know him?”

  She shrugged. “No, I didn’t. Why?”

  “Told us Geneva raped your husband, extorted money from him, threatened to kill you, the boy…” Hanson stopped.

  “Did you know about the storage unit he was renting? Bunch of old boxes, files, and stuff. I discovered it when I was going over his bank statements. Found the annulment papers, tapes he made…”

  “What’s going to happen to Mark’s son?” Kelly asked.

  “Well, next of kin. If they can’t find anyone to take him, he’ll go into foster care.”