“I think she knows already. She thinks she’s so damned slick…” Marc started and became annoyed as he shook his head from side to side, too angry to complete his statement.
Reggie leaned in and asked him what he meant.
“I think she been checking my messages at the house when she is over there. Every time I leave her ass in a room by herself, she starts going through my shit. I have to sit there and literally babysit her simple ass to make sure she aint in my business.”
“You serious dawg? Man, why you have her up in there anyway? She thinking she the first lady and shit. Man these broads get knocked up and start feeling entitled to be in your shit. That’s why I aint havin’ it man. I protect my nut. I use my own condoms and make sure those muthafuckers get flushed down the toilet with my nut. I don’t even bust off in these broads mouth when they give me head. Fuck that! These bitches are cut throat.” Reggie said as he stuffed a chili cheese fry in his mouth.
Marc wondered if Reggie was always that meticulous, considering his occasional slip ups and trips to the clinic. He spoke as Reggie chewed.
“Dawg, I have to keep one eye on her. If I don’t, she will try to send a niggah down to Child Support Enforcement, and I amrying to be one of those brothers paying a chick the dough I worked for. She’s smart. She already knows how much she will get. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she knows how much loot I got stashed in the bank. So for now, I just play the role. I knock her down every now and then, make her believe that I am actually into her. As soon as this kid is born, I am haulin’ her dumb ass down to court, getting a custody agreement, and sending her gold digging ass on her way. I keep receipts for everything. She keeps threatening to leave town. I know her. She’s not taking her trifling ass anywhere when she thinks she has a gold mine right here.”
Reggie paused in disbelief.
“Man, I can’t believe we sittin here talking about child support and shit. I say get the damned paternity test first. You don’t, and your ass will be sittin on Maury Povich looking crazy as hell takin’ a DNA test after she blew your money.”
Marc couldn’t help but think of the Kanye West lyrics, “she was supposed to buy Tyco with your money, went out and got lipo with your money…” He grew agitated by the thought and a scowl enveloped his face. Reggie noticed.
“Marc, man, don’t sweat this shit. You’re gonna handle your business regardless. Tomorrow night is the auction. Dawg, you will have your pick of the finest women in DC. They got careers, not jobs man. They got their own cribs and whips. They got their own money. Dawg. Come on. They all look like Beyonce.” Marc glanced curiously at Reggie.
“They gonna look like Beyonce, dawg?”
“Better. Beyonce body with Oprah money.” Marc peered into the atmosphere as he considered the line up of dates and booty calls that resulted from last year’s auction.
“Hell yeah. I need some starters on my team. Sherise thought she had me jammed up, but fuck that.” Marc asserted.
“Hell yeah. That’s what I’m talking ‘bout. You gotta get out there man. Let these broads know what’s up. We are some of the few brothers in chocolate city who got our shit together. Good credit, our own shit, good careers, fine as shit...We’re the American dream baby. What is the ratio, like eight to one or some shit?”
Marc’s face warmed as he thought about his odds of landing what he called “premium pussy”. These were women he could take from the board room to the bedroom without missing a beat. He found himself fantasizing about taking home a Tracy Edmonds look-a-like only to be pleasantly surprised to find that she was loaded. He was jolted back to reality when he felt his Blackberry buzzing against his waist and heard a light ringing in his ear.
He looked down on the LCD display only to see Sherise’s number. He refused to program her name into his phone, as he only reserved that privilege to those he wanted to remember. She was still a random phone number in his phone and until a few weeks ago, a random encounter that he had forgotten. He reached for the phone and began to answer it as he witnessed Reggie shaking his head incredulously. His mumbled hello was usurped by Sherise’s loud and blaring tone. Marc was convinced that she did this to alert any potential female competition that she was on the scene. He quickly adjusted the volume of his Blue Tooth ear piece. After requesting that he meet her in an hour, Marc summarily ended the conversation.
Reggie, noting Marc’s conversation sat in wait of Marc’s next move. Predictably, Marc said he had to run and left a fifty dollar bill to pay for the meal and tip. The two men exchanged their secretive fraternal handshake and parted ways.
As Marc was walking out of the door, Reggie quickly wrote down the number he memorized when he saw it appear on Marc’s display unit when he removed it from his waist and placed it on the table. He knew that he had to look out for his boy and he knew how he had to do it. He picked up his phone and placed a call. “Hey baby girl, long time no hear. Listen, I need you to check up on something for me…Oh, yeah, you know I got you. You ready? Here’s the number, 240 535-8765, and I think her name is Sherise…”
Chapter 30 Sherise
Sherise moved quickly around Marc’s townhouse trying to conceal her presence. She replaced the spare key that he attempted to hide from her in his office drawer, a lock she jimmied the first time she spent the night. She had a duplicate key made and helped herself to “their” home whenever she was sure that Marc would be gone for a few hours.
She dutifully erased phone messages left by women suitors anxious to reconnect with Marc and regularly checked the mail before he saw it. She took the liberty of retrieving a few documents with his full name, date of birth, and social security number in the event that things became hairy between them, and she needed an insurance policy. She gasped when she first learned that he had over $350,000 in his savings and investment accounts.
She was on a more serious mission today. She knew she needed an ally and searched frantically for Marc’s phone records so that she could implement her plan. She figured that his mother would be delighted at the thought of having her first grandchild and could influence Marc to marry her and seal the deal. If she was anything like Marc, Sherise was sure that she wouldn’t want the spectacle of her son fathering children and being a philanderer. “Jackpot!” Sherise thought as she located his most recent cell phone bill.
She scanned through the phone bill looking for numbers in the Atlanta area. She kissed the folded sheets when she identified a 678 area code. She made a mental note to call the numbers that Marc called regularly to see how many were women that she would have to get rid of once she became Mrs. Marc Campbell.
Delighted, Sherise quickly restored the place to the way she found it. She even reactivated the security system. Marc predictably used his social security number as the entry code. Sherise smirked at how Marc perceived her as a ghetto dilettante on the come up. She played her role well. But she knew far more than he ever would.
As she closed and locked the door to the brownstone, she surveyed outside for nosy neighbors. She quickly double-checked her newly purchased authentic Dior shoulder bag to ensure she had what she needed. When that was affirmed, she hopped into a cab waiting for her at the curb.
As the cab drove her up four blocks to the Starbucks that she asked Marc to meet her at, she thought of something her mother often said when she was teaching her how to defraud the government for food stamps and cash assistance: “Whatever you do, just stay low and keep moving. Nobody notices when a little is missing. But don’t get greedy. Over time, a little can become a lot if you play your cards right.” Sherise smiled as she thought of her mother’s words. Not only would she play her cards right, but she was willing to bet it all that she had the winning hand.
Chapter 31 Natalie
“So now what? I know OJ did not just come out and say he might be the daddy!” Eric asked Natalie as they sat in their hotel suite at the Washington Court Hotel staring at the Anna Nicole Smith paternity coverage on Court TV. They both hated t
o admit that they were drawn to the story that read like a typical day in the life of a Jerry Springer panelist.
Natalie, stunned by the trailer she read at the bottom of the screen let out a sigh of exhaustion.
“Can you believe this shit? Black men are over in Iraq loosing their lives everyday and the NAACP wants to get involved in this crap? These fools are crazy.”
“Speaking of crazy, did you talk to your mother? I see she’s been blowing up your phone like the world is gonna end tonight.” Eric asked his sister as he lounged on the chaise in the suite.
“To tell you the truth, I am not even ready to talk to her yet. I already know that she is going to act like she is so wounded that we are not close and try to get me to make you call her. I am not in tood for the drama.”
“I know that’s right, and since Tanya uninvited me to the exorcism of her tenth child, I plan on enjoying chocolate city before I leave.” Natalie laughed at her brother’s exaggeration, but could tell deep down he was wounded by their sister’s actions.
“Don’t even worry about it. I am not going either.”
“No, Nat, you go. I don’t want them to think that I am trying to turn you against them. They already think I am the anti-christ. You need to go to be there for daddy. I can only imagine how drunk he is by now.” Eric said as he quietly mourned for his father’s misery.
“I talked to daddy when you were taking a shower. You know he’s not going anywhere near momma’s church or her crooked pastor. He is gonna go over to Smitty’s house to watch the game and play cards since we won’t be there. He said momma is acting like a plum fool. She’s been dabbing her prayer oil on stuff and making the kids watch the gospel hour with her and memorize scripture to impress her church friends who will be at the house after the ceremony.”
The two burst out in shared laughter at their mother’s fanaticism. They glanced at the television in time to see a slim Anna Nicole Smith slurring her words as she attempted to present an award at one of the award shows.
“I can’t keep watching this shit. I think it’s making me think I’m the kid’s daddy. Either that or I want to be a buxom blonde and marry an old geyser right before he croaks.” Natalie hated to reward Eric’s cynicism with laughter, but she too had her full of the coverage of this beautiful woman’s tragic life.
“Let’s get out of here. It’s Friday night, and we are free from massah! I say let’s head to Adams Morgan and do the damn thing!” Eric said as he sprang from the one of the king sized beds and headed to his suitcase of party clothes.
Natalie perked up and then remembered that she could not drink anything alcoholic while on her medication, which took half the fun out of club hopping in Adams Morgan. Eric, innately in tune with his sister’s thoughts, offered a caveat.
“I do the drinking and cursing, you do the flirting.” Natalie smiled internally and externally at the connection she shared with her brother and wished that her mother and sister could see him for the wonderful and loving man that he was.
Natalie headed for the bathroom to get dressed. As she gathered her things and entered the bathroom, she couldn’t help the urge to tease her brother.
“Try not to wear anything that will get us arrested this time.” Eric plastered a saccharin smile on his face as he responded to his sister’s biting sarcasm.
“Can I help it if I have abs of steel? Shit, they can pay for a membership at the gym. These clowns just better look and not touch this time.”
Natalie shook her head in resignation.
“That might be true, but you might be looking for trouble if you wear that body shirt and those slacks.”
“It’s a MUSCLE shirt and that’s exactly what it’s for. You just worry about you and try your best not to look like Moms Mabley when you come out of that bathroom. I always do me.”
Natalie disappeared into the bathroom as Eric dressed and groomed himself. His ritual included trimming and buffing his nails trimming any underarm and nose hairs, shaping up the nape line of his naturally curly hair and applying a small amount of Kiehl’s skin buffer to exfoliate his flawless café au lait skin. He finished his look by spraying a small amount of Very Sexy for men into his clothing. He avoided having the cologne making direct contact with his skin. He read in Men’s Health that a man’s pH changes when he drinks alcohol and sweats and can actually counteract the scent of the cologne. There was nothing he hated more than funk overpowered by cologne. “Let’s do this.” Eric thought as he inspected himself in the full length mirror.
Minutes later, Natalie emerged. The two smiled at Natalie’s cce of an all black pantsuit by Bebe. Eric approved.
Natalie used the elevator ride to the lobby to check her messages while Eric scanned the Washington Paper to see what bands were playing. She smiled ceaselessly as she listened to Heath’s voice telling her that he missed her already and couldn’t wait to see her again. Impressed by his follow up, she decided that they would have sex when she returned.
The doors of the elevator opened and revealed a lobby sprinkled with political big wigs, entertainers, and the occasional high priced “escorts” that attempted to blend in with the diverse crowd. Eric and Natalie maneuvered their way through the patches of people in the lobby trying to make it to the front door. Just as they were crossing the high traffic area near the banquet hall, a bell hop with chairs stacked nearly eight feet high almost trampled them.
“Hey, watch out damn it!” Eric yelled as they quickly jumped out the path. Hearing his comment, a tall muscular man with a bald head looked around the chairs.
“Ah, my bad, my man.” He and Eric met eyes and Natalie was sure that they “played on the same team”, as Eric would say. Eric noticed this as well. He used the opportunity to flirt.
“Maybe you need to watch out better next time, or somebody could get hurt.”
Natalie felt completely invisible as she witnessed two attractive men flirting with each other. She eyed her brother’s newest conquest and wondered why gay men seemed to be so well preserved. She drank in the defined curvature of the stranger’s toned arms and the biceps that threatened to burst through the meticulously pressed oxford uniform shirt. The thought of him in a wife beater tee made her moist as she fought her attraction to a man who would never view her in the same way.
She wandered away from the conversation, afraid that she might recognize some of the jargon and mannerisms the two exchanged in the men she dated and regularly bedded. Five minutes later Eric rejoined his sister as they exited the hotel. She looked at him fully expecting a run down of his encounter and his immediate plans for his new friend. Eric sensed this and toyed with his sister.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” Eric dismissed her. Natalie stretched her eyes in anticipation.
“Okay already. Damn, Barbara Walters. His name is Allen and he works here. I told him I am in town for the weekend and he gets off tonight at 12. Since we won’t be back by then, I will catch up with him tomorrow. By the way, he’s gonna get us into some celebrity auction or something they are having tomorrow night in the banquet room. He said they’re prepping for it tonight because this weekend they have some kind of political summit in town and all of their guests will probably be arriving in the morning.
“Auction? For real Eric, how desperate do you have to be? To pay for a man to get a date?” Eric reviewed her laughingly and covered his mouth.
“You tell me. I was hoping to get you a date.” Natalie’s mouth dropped open.
“For your information, I have a man. So you can stop trying to be all up in my business.” Natalie quickly returned.
“For your information, Natalie, batteries and your little glow in the dark toy that you hide in the back of your panty drawer does not a man make.” Natalie gasped in embarrassment and then shared a laugh with her brother as they headed to Adams Morgan to try to forget the reason that they made the trip to Maryland in the first place.
Chapter 32 Ilene
Ilene was prepared for battle
. As she sat in a rented car parked outside of what she assumed was Charles and his mistresses’ love den, she hardened herself for what she was sure would be a knock down drag out fight. There was no make up or jewelry. She was a woman coming undone, prepared to launch a full assault to protect her last semblance of normalcy and esteem.
Charles and his stupidity would not rob her of the reputation that it tookr years to establish. His car was nowhere in sight, and Ilene had to move quickly. With only a few days until her event, she wanted to make sure that she did not appear on the local news for some stupid domestic squabble, or even worse, a tawdry love triangle. She did, however, want to send the clearest message possible to the woman that slept with her husband that she wasn’t the one to be underestimated.
After leaving their family home in tears two days ago, Ilene collected and quickly pawned $25,000 in jewelry and phoned an old friend with connections. This transaction required cash. No pesky little paper trail would be left to incriminate the parties involved. For a small ransom, she got an address and phone number for the woman that Charles was seen having lunch with. She was even able to have a little side work done. She hated herself for the drastic measures she took, but found a way to convince herself that it was for the advantage of herself, Charles, and her family. In that order.
The wooden doors of the home in Marietta opened and Ilene focused her eyes on the woman she would somehow destroy. When the woman emerged from the shadows of her doorway, Ilene squinted to make out the form of her face, but was unsuccessful. Her mouth instantly grew dry and stale and she quickly slipped her dark sun glasses onto her now reddened face. Despite her planning and well-rehearsed speech, Ilene could not compel herself to open the car door and attack. She was overcome with anger and gripped the steering wheel so tight that she didn’t even remember that she still had the ignition on. The car idled loudly as her foot slowly burrowed down on the gas pedal.
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