Les Tales

by Nikki Rashan Skyy

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “It’s a camera, Taryn. She spied on you every day,” Ms. Sheila blurted.

  “What? Who spied on me?”

  “We assume Layne did,” Jimmy answered.

  “Where did you find it?”

  “The electrician found it the day he came to check the wiring, back when you were on vacation at the start of summer. I knew what it was as soon as he showed it to me. It’s just like the one I keep in my house to watch all my grandkids coming in and out. Can’t trust everybody, especially the folks we love. Them kids might take some of my precious jewels,” Ms. Sheila mumbled.

  “There are no hidden cameras here at the center. We don’t hide who and what we’re watching with the security cameras we have around here,” Jimmy noted. “The only explanation for this is Layne. The question is, why would she want to spy on you?”

  “’Cause sneaky folks always thinkin’ somebody else is sneaky, that’s why,” Ms. Sheila said, jumping in. “She could have been watching you at any time, and if there were any secrets told in your office, she knew about it. Like I said before, I wasn’t trying to be up in no mess—”

  “Thank you, Sheila,” Jimmy said, cutting her off. “I planned to share this with you the day you returned from vacation. Unfortunately, Layne died that day, and it didn’t seem right anymore. We didn’t want to cause you any distress by sharing it afterward. With the recent security issues and the extra measures we might take, I had to tell you. This camera is a breach not only of your privacy but of the center’s as well.”

  I didn’t know how much more I could handle. Not only had Layne cheated for years and told my daughter lies about me, but she had also spied on me while I was at work? I tried to recall when Layne had had an opportunity to place the camera in my office. Once she resigned from her four-year service on the board, she rarely visited the center and hated driving on Chicago’s South Side. She had picked me up from work only once after resigning, and on another occasion, about a year ago, she had dropped by the center unannounced while I was in a meeting with Jimmy. I didn’t know she was there until I found her waiting for me in my office. Had she installed the camera then?

  “I don’t know why Layne would put this camera in my office. All I can say is, I’m learning the woman I married isn’t who I thought she was,” I admitted.

  “Uh-huh,” Ms. Sheila murmured.

  I took the small gadget in my hand again and got up. “Thanks for telling me about this. Jimmy, you understand if I take the rest of the day off?”

  “Of course,” Jimmy responded.

  Ms. Sheila and Jimmy left my office, with Ms. Sheila continuing to mumble unflattering remarks about Layne. I ignored her, gathered my purse, and then left the center. Once I got home, I took the tote with Layne’s journals into her office. I set it on the floor, sat in her chair, and stared at the closed laptop that remained on top of her desk. Since her passing, I had been unable to access the computer, as it was password protected. I hadn’t spent much time trying to decipher the password, previously trying only the words Layne, Taryn, and Jenna to gain entry. Now I wanted to know if she really had been spying on me and what she had seen.

  I opened the laptop and powered it on. When the password box appeared, I typed in the word Nina. I was denied. I tried English, but again, no entry. I tapped my fingers on the keyboard, entering a blur of letters and unintelligible words. I got up and strolled past the shelves of books on Layne’s walls. Given that Layne was as anal as she was, the books were organized by subject, like in a library. I passed a section of autobiographies and African American fiction, then reached a shelf of books on Greek mythology.

  “You were her Aphrodite,” I had told Nina, aware of Layne’s fascination with mythological persons. Nina had smiled in response, as if Layne had also told her that. I typed Aphrodite into the password box, and Layne’s desktop appeared. The backdrop was a picture of silver handcuffs. Folders covered most of the screen, their titles predominately related to her work at school. In the bottom left corner was a file with my name. I moved the arrow over it and clicked.

  There wasn’t much in the folder, a few pictures and tax documents. But there was another folder within the file titled “The Office.” Inside were tens of videos, their still shots capturing the desk in my office. Anxiously, I watched the first one, which was dated late August of the previous year. There was no sound to the video, only a streaming view of my desk from above.

  For over an hour I watched videos, fast-forwarding through much of the footage. The activity in my office was minimal. I spent most of my time on the phone or away from my desk. Jimmy and I held a few meetings, some of my coworkers stopped by to drop off paperwork, and occasionally one of the kids would visit me. However, I was usually alone. Then Ron entered one day.

  He greeted me as usual, with a hug and a kiss to my cheek. I watched us, silently, interact across my desk. I remembered the meeting. We talked about Jenna and how emotional he had been sitting in the restaurant with us, so close to her, but unable to speak. I pulled out my phone and showed him pictures of all of us upon our arrival at Spelman, then of us helping to get her settled into her dorm along with her roommate. Ron then pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. Inside were five one-hundred-dollar bills, the exact amount he had been handing me monthly since we reunited at the center. Over the years, Ron had given me over a hundred thousand dollars, none of which Layne knew about. At least I thought she hadn’t.

  The footage with Ron started just after we dropped Jenna off for her second year. To be precise, it was almost a week after Jenna had left for Spelman, and only a day before she left, Ron had sat near us at brunch. Had Layne noticed the two times Ron and I caught each other’s eye in the restaurant, diverting our eyes a mere second after they connected?

  I continued to watch the videos, including two more that included scenes of Ron giving me an envelope again. The videos stopped just prior to our summer vacation. Perhaps the camera had continued to roll, but Layne had been unable to download further footage. I couldn’t figure out what she planned to do with it, had she lived.

  Before shutting her laptop, I changed the password to Taryn.

  “Ha,” I said to no one, pleased that I had gained access to Layne’s laptop. I was also pissed at the discovery of Layne’s additional deceptions, more proof of her obsession with controlling me.

  I reached in the tote and emptied Layne’s journals onto the desk. I flipped through the pages of several until I found the entries I was seeking. At the printer across the room I scanned the pages I needed and placed the copies in an envelope. I then placed the journals in Layne’s drawer where I originally found them, and left the office, defiantly leaving the door ajar, with the envelope in hand.

  Chapter Ten

  It was a bleak, cloudy November afternoon, the Friday before the week of Thanksgiving break, when I walked the pathway toward the main campus hall. The snow that fell a few days prior had melted, and only muddied patches remained scattered about the grass.

  Before I headed to Nina’s office, I stopped to visit Dean Henry, who was expecting me. We chatted for five minutes before I headed down the long hallway and around the bend that led to Nina’s office. Nina and Amber were inside when I arrived. I closed the door and leaned against it, my ankles crossed, arms behind my back, my hands around the doorknob. I locked the door.

  “Hello,” I said.

  They were sitting casually next to one another in the chairs in front of Nina’s desk. I entered during a conversation about a new program being implemented in the math department. The last words Nina spoke were about their need to work together during the process. How convenient it had been for all of them to get laid in the same place they got paid. Nina smiled at me.

  “Amber, this is Taryn, Layne’s widow.”

  Amber stood and walked toward me, removing her glasses during the process. She positioned her tall, full body before me. “This is your Layne’s wife?” she asked
Nina, her eyes on me.

  “Yes.”

  “My, aren’t you luscious.” She bit the tip of the frame of her glasses between her teeth.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “She’s here to watch,” Nina announced.

  “Ah, so that’s what you were waiting for. I was getting anxious.” Amber chuckled. “You’re in for a treat,” she told me.

  Amber took two steps back and began to unbutton her white blouse. She opened it to reveal a nude-colored lace bra over her full, freckled bosom. With her fingertip she caressed her nipple. Slowly, Nina rose and met Amber in front of me. Nina ground her hips against Amber’s body, as if dancing to a funky, slow groove only the two of them could hear.

  Nina’s hands ran up and down Amber’s clothing, and then she gripped her skirt in bunches between her clenched fingers. Amber moaned. Nina perspired. I stroked my cleavage. Amber peered at me seductively, then turned to Nina.

  “I like the wife better already,” she told her. Together, they took additional steps back until they reached Nina’s desk. Amber scooted her ass onto it, raising her skirt in the process to reveal matching nude lace panties. She held on to the edge of the desk and circled her hips against the smooth surface. I watched the flesh between her legs rise and then slowly disappear beneath her.

  “Ahh,” she hummed.

  I ran my hands down my slacks and mimicked her grind against the palm of my hand.

  Nina positioned herself between Amber’s legs, stroking the lace with her middle finger. I saw Nina’s finger dip inside Amber’s panties and disappear between her pink lips. Nina penetrated Amber deeply. Her finger dove in and out of Amber’s flesh, while her thumb caressed Amber’s clit. I watched them lose themselves in the pleasure of the moment, neither performing for me nor seemingly aware of my presence.

  There they were before me, Amber’s skirt above her waist, her creamy ass against the desk. My heart raced with excitement from watching them together for a reason of which they were unaware. Amber’s long blond hair hung back, and her mouth was agape, her red lips in an O. Nina was flushed, and sweat ran down her hairline, as she focused on bringing Amber to climax. As Amber’s grunts and moans intensified, and her soft whispers became audible words of pleasure, I walked to the window and leaned against the ledge.

  Amber’s belly began to quiver. “Yes,” she murmured.

  I placed my hand on the opener to the blinds.

  Amber’s legs began to shake.

  I wrapped the string around my hand tightly.

  Nina pumped Amber three more times, until Amber burst into cries of delight. “Nina, yessss.”

  I opened the blinds.

  Sunlight lit up the room. Only three feet outside the window stood Dean Henry, his old lips in the same O formation Amber’s had been. He clutched his chest with a wrinkled hand.

  In the midst of orgasm, Amber fought the pleasures she felt while she struggled to comprehend what had just happened. She sat upright, her breathing heavy, and her blue eyes squinted toward the window. Nina’s eyes widened, and the sweat on her face glistened against the glare that shot through the window.

  Students began to slow their pace, and two of them caught Dean Henry as he lost his balance. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Amber and Nina. A small crowd formed outside the window until finally Nina released her fingers from Amber and ran to close the blinds.

  Amber scrambled off the desk, lowering her skirt, no longer exuding the sultry confidence she had fifteen minutes earlier. “Oh my God, my grandpa,” she whined.

  Amber continued to cry as she straightened herself up. “My husband . . .” She wiped sweat from her forehead. “Did you set this up?” she suddenly asked Nina.

  “Amber, no, baby, no. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” She reached for Amber’s arm. “You know I love you. Please don’t go,” Nina begged.

  “You’ve ruined us both! He’ll never forgive us!” Amber shrieked at Nina before she opened the door to find Dean Henry standing outside. He was somber and angry, with tears that left the corners of his eyes and rolled over the crevices of his wrinkled face.

  “Grandpa.” Amber grabbed the lapels of his blazer and buried her face in his chest. She cried like a young girl who’d been caught kissing a boy behind a tree. His frail arms pushed her away from him.

  “Go to my office now,” he ordered. Amber hustled around the corner and disappeared. His eyes then met Nina’s. “You’re fired,” Dean Henry barked at Nina, his thin lips trembling.

  “Charles, wait.” Nina ran to him, pleading as Amber had, clutching his jacket. “We can work this out, can’t we? I’ll do anything,” she told him, her lips only inches from his. She stroked the white collar of his shirt and caressed his cheek. He grabbed her wrist and, with all the energy it seemed he could gather, pushed her away.“You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t you have any morals? I want you out of my building in ten minutes, or security will be here to escort you out.” Dean Henry held the folder I had given him twenty minutes earlier in the air. “Taryn, thank you. The memorial is over. It’s not going to happen.” He turned and shuffled away.

  The papers I had given Dean Henry on my way to Nina’s office were the copies of entries from Layne’s journals that I had made the day I found out about the hidden camera in my office. While reading the journals, I had come across numerous entries in which Layne had slandered everyone she knew, including Dean Henry, even suggesting she would be a better fit in his role than he ever had been. I had made those copies while setting up the perfect opportunity for vengeance against both Layne and Nina at the same time.

  If Layne loved only one person in her world, it wasn’t me or even Nina. It was herself. Nothing was more important to her than her name and the image she projected. To most hurtfully cross Layne, I had to smear her character and discredit the picture-perfect appearance she had falsely presented to almost everyone she knew. I hoped Layne’s skeleton turned over in its grave at the realization that the university would delete her from its database, as if she had never taught one class.

  Nina grabbed the edge of the door and leaned against it, her head resting against the wood. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, her forehead bent into a confused and worried frown. She then opened her eyes and glared at me. “What have you done?” she screamed, enunciating each word slowly.

  I smoothed my hair, smiling triumphantly at Nina. I walked toward her and pushed the door closed behind her. “You know, Nina, when I first read Layne’s journals, I wanted to hate you. I hoped every beautiful word Layne wrote about you was a lie.” I took a step closer, until I stood only a couple of inches from her face. “They weren’t, though. You are just as fascinating as she said you were.” I stroked her lips with my index finger. “You’re irresistible.”

  I turned around and sat on her desk as she continued to lean against the door. “You’ve shown me parts of myself I didn’t know existed. Like you said yourself, there’s more to me than what meets the eye. But did you actually think you could have it all, Layne and me? Did you really think you could fuck my wife for seven years, and I’d fall right into your arms to carry on where she left off?”

  “What? I thought we had something.”

  “We did. And now we don’t.”

  “How could you destroy my career like this? It’s all I have.”

  I adjusted my purse over my shoulder. “The same way you destroyed my family. It was all I had.”

  Nina charged at me angrily, gritting her teeth out of fury. She raised her right arm in the air, her palm wide open, to slap me, but I caught her wrist and pushed her back against the door. My left forearm pressed firmly against her esophagus, and my right hand curled into a tight fist, which I lifted over her face. My response was innate, an inherited reflex passed down from my father, as it was the grip he used on my mother when she regretfully tried to fight with him. Nina’s eyes turned fearful, widening and then shutting in preparation for the punch I was ready to deliver.

&nbs
p; My knuckles hovered over Nina’s eye, the momentum of the swing halted as I contemplated whether or not to surrender to yet another part of me, the aspect of myself I had fought to ignore. In Nina’s frightened state, I saw my mother, tense with fear, awaiting my father’s wrath. I recalled the common saying “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Was I capable of inflicting physical pain like my father had on my mother? I had glimpsed my potential only weeks earlier, nearly asphyxiating Nina when I lost control on her desk.

  Slowly, I lowered my arm and lightened the pressure against Nina’s neck. I had accomplished what I wanted, and didn’t want to impose further damage on both of us. Nina reached for her neck and rubbed it with shaky hands.

  “Think twice before fucking somebody else’s wife,” I warned her. “It may cost you more than just a job next time.”

  Nina slid her body down the door and crouched into a ball on the floor. “Yeah, well, you should have thought twice about having secret meetings in your office.” She peered up at me. “She knew about Pastor Ron, and she was going to tell Jenna once she put it all together. The money . . . she needed proof with the money, but for once, only once, you were smarter than her. She couldn’t find it.”

  Grandma and her fear of big ole banks had come in handy. The money—all of it, both the proceeds from her life insurance policy and Ron’s payments, a total of $175,000 in cash—was split between several designer shoe boxes in my closet and had been right under Layne’s nose the entire time.

  I tapped Nina’s thigh with the heel of my shoe. “Better hurry. You have eight minutes left.”

  I opened the door and walked out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ron and I sat next to one another in Jimmy’s office during the first meeting we had called since our initial gathering after the shooting at the center. Ron was professionally attired, as usual, in black slacks and a blazer with a white shirt and a mustard- and black-striped tie. His demeanor was somber yet aggressive.