Dirty Secrets

by Drummond, Lonaire

  Adele found Robynne typing away on her laptop when she finally dragged her gray and puffy self back into the living room. Robynne had been searching for information on the elusive Argentero family.

  Much like the contents of Adele’s stomach, the search came up with nothing. No blurb. No blog. No anonymous whistle blower. In the cyber world, the Argenteros did not exist.

  All speculation ended when Robynne’s phone rang.

  “You look happy.” Adele noticed the tension in her friend’s face rise when she hung up from the call.

  “Mindy just fired me.”

  “She can’t fire you. Remember the top secret squirrel information you refused to tell your best friend. According to you, her ovaries are in a vice, so she can’t fire you.” Adele said.

  “It’s Mindy. She’s not known for her business savvy, good manners, tact or intelligence.”

  “Don’t forget gratitude and fashion sense. I still don’t understand how she can fire you. Isn’t she afraid of you revealing your information?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.” Robynne said.

  “So, are you going to finally tell me what it is you have on her?”

  “No.” Robynne said.

  Still 120-proof, Adele tagged along to make sure Robynne stayed out of jail. On an audition for the Indy 500, Robynne tailed an ambulance, swerving, and speeding while staying in league with the screaming vehicle. Adele played the part of an ailing passenger to perfection just in case they were pulled over by the NYPD.

  A tepid towel spread over her face, sans bra, dressed in oversized workout sweats (a parting gift from an old boyfriend), Adele opted out of watching the carnage unfold in front of her.

  Thirty-five minutes later, they blew into Corentini—a raging hurricane and a bumbling tumbleweed. Adele felt more than a little ridiculous staring into the eyes of her former coworkers, their perplexed glances ping-ponging off of Adele and Robynne, jobs all but forgotten.

  Madeline, the intern waived. A beaming Stephen, on the crack sales team responsible for Corentini’s presence in every supermarket and 99 cent store in the tri-state area, winked flirtatiously at Adele.

  Refocused on the task at hand, Adele caught up with Hurricane Robynne. Before she posed some pertinent questions regarding her intent, her friend flung Mindy’s door wide open. Neither Robynne nor Adele were prepared to lay eyes on the unspeakable horror concealed behind Mindy’s door.

  The fetid smell of rubber and sweat permeated the air. A pair of red thongs, the crotch up, spoke volumes on the floor. At stage left, with her legs crossed at the knees, the C.E.O. of Corentini had Robynne’s boyfriend of three months, CT, trapped in a sexual stronghold against her crotch. For her curtain call, Mindy’s wire-lipped smile broaden at least ten city blocks when she realized she had an audience.

  CT, school boyishly handsome, levitated at least three feet after Robynne cleared her throat. He made quick business of covering up his manhood—a move which entailed cupping his penis with both hands, whereas Mindy made no effort to shield herself from the spotlight produced by Adele and Robynne’s glare.

  Robynne’s voice trembled with uncontrolled rage when she spoke.

  “This is why you wouldn’t answer your phone last night? This is the reason you couldn’t come over? How long have you been fucking this bitch behind my back?”

  “I can explain this Robynne. It’s not what it looks like,” CT said.

  CT’s voice did not match his appearance. His voice, manly and self-assured, seemed dubbed. A more debonair man, a man with more sense than to cross Robynne had to be speaking for CT from behind a glass somewhere. That very same man, the one whose thick voice spread over Adele like whipped apple butter on bread wouldn’t have dared to cheat on Robynne.

  “Robynne, don’t blame CT. He was just a pawn in a little game I’d like to call payback. Game. Set. Match,” Mindy said.

  Robynne closed the distance between Mindy and herself. “This was a game to you?”

  “Not a very entertaining game, but a game nonetheless. You can have CT back. I like my men a bit more lively in bed.” Mindy said, dressing herself.

  “Is scalping still practiced? If not I’m about to bring it back into the 21st century.” Robynne said.

  CT had dressed himself during round one of Robynne and Mindy’s melee. “If I didn’t sleep with her, she would have fired me. I just leased a new apartment.”

  Too busy cornering her prey to acknowledge him, Robynne flinched when CT grabbed her. “Don’t touch me. Luckily, you will be easier to get rid of than my cheating husband was. I never want to see you again.”

  “We can work this out. I love you. This—was just business.” CT said.

  Mindy’s $2,500 vase went airborne the second CT finished his sentence. The handblown antique missed his eye, but unfortunately for CT, it struck his temple instead. An angry red bruise quickly overtook his tanned features. He sat on the edge of Mindy’s desk, the blow to his head squelching his opportunity for rebuttal.

  Robynne’s quest for more objects to lob at CT was forgotten when Mindy, maniacal laugh and all, approached Robynne. “I wouldn’t get to close if I were you.”

  “You won’t have to worry about seeing CT ever again—not here anyway—I fired you; remember? I knew you would come traipsing in Corentini like you owned the place. You’re so predictable.”

  Robynne busted Mindy’s lip in the time it took to blink.

  “How’s that for predictable? I can see the future too. You will be thrown out on your ass when the board members find out about what you’ve been up to. Don’t bust an implant on your way out.”

  Adele stepped between the two opponents before they could be a round two.

  “I see you brought your lackey. I’m clairvoyant too. I see an assault and trespassing charge in both your futures—two convictions for the price of one.”

  Adele looked Mindy in the eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

  “I’ve put up with crap from the both of you for way too long. Whatever Robynne thinks she has on me became irrelevant an hour ago. Go look in what used to be her office if you don’t believe me.”

  They single-filed it out of Mindy’s office, pushing through onlookers. Not even a third of the size of Mindy’s office, Robynne’s workspace was decorated in a minimalistic manner much like their apartment. The old-fashioned abacus (a gift from Adele purchased at a storage unit sale) sat proudly on Robynne’s oak desk.

  A post-it note outlined space the size of a computer was the only indication a terminal once resided on Robynne’s desk. Self-satisfied and cocky, Mindy feigned shock, bending down to look under Robynne’s desk, even going so far as to pick up the abacus to look under it.

  “Where’s my computer,” an indignant Robin asked.

  “I don’t know where your computer is, but the computer provided by Corentini, which technically makes it my computer, has vanished. What were you saying about evidence you had against some epic wrong I’ve committed?”

  Adele stood on her tip-toes in order to whisper in Robynne’s ear. “Please tell me you backed-up the evidence you had against her.”

  Two police officers interrupted Robynne’s response. Adele had just received her wish, although it was a day late and in the wrong country.

  The gossip spread quickly and purposefully—the accelerant—Mindy’s big mouth. The clerks in the mailroom, human resources, the sandwich lady, the janitor, the upper and lower echelon of executives, the lawyers, every nook and cranny where people worked emptied out to see Adele and Robynne wear matching handcuffs.

  Mindy, playing the part of the victim, had an optimal vantage point. She stood by the squad car’s passenger side door. The cold compress she held over her split lip did little to obscure her victorious smile.

  “This is not how I imagined my day turning out,” Adele said.

  The pounding headache she had been nursing paled in comparison to the pounding of her heart at the thought of spending even one minute in
jail.

  Robynne held her breath, but the putrid odor fermenting in the police car’s backseat was persistent. “Why does it smell like urine back here?”

  A punt-faced officer addressed Robynne through the grill. “You’re lucky that’s all it smells like back there.”

  “A release of bodily fluids is not uncommon when perps are faced with the reality of going to jail,” the second officer in command said, recounting his musings on spontaneous release made Adele and Robynne ease their bodies as close to the edge of the seat as possible.

  “The likelihood of catching a communicable disease from these seats is a distinct possibility.” Robynne said with a sigh.

  “You ladies might want to sit back. Office Candella likes to take sharp turns. You might end up with a face full of grill. Perps, especially the drunk ones, tend to spit,” he said.

  With tears welling up in her eyes, Robynne said, “It’s like a fucking Petri dish in here.”

  Chapter 21

  To Adele, the thought of occupying an enclosed space filled with miscreants was too much to bear. Separated, handcuffed to a chair like common criminals, fingerprinted, in-processed and remanded into a cell with women who seemed to feel at home in a jail cell the way a chef would feel at home in a kitchen, both woman were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  “Did you have to hit her?” Adele asked

  “Punching her smug pinched-up face was a reflex, one that I’ve been suppressing for five years.” Robynne stated.

  “Was it worth the momentary satisfaction.” A surprisingly sober Adele asked. Who would have thought the cure for a hang-over resided behind the reinforced steel doors of a prison cell.

  Eyeing a pair of mannish looking prostitutes huddled together on the other side of their cell, Robynne crossed her legs before answering Adele.

  “No, it wasn’t worth it.”

  “I’m sorry about this, Robynne. Mindy’s trying to get back at me through you.”

  “It’s not worth it because I didn’t drag her around the office by her dark roots. Don’t flatter yourself, Adele. Mindy is my sworn enemy foreign and domestic.”

  “And what happened back at the office, Shock and Awe 2011?” Adele said.

  “Mindy’s the one who should be shocked and awed because she’s still alive. I went to the bad place.”

  “Where the homicidal maniac lives?”

  “Where the welcome mats are made from the skins of those who’ve wronged me.” Robynne said.

  “You may need to seek help.”

  “They will need to seek help if it burns when I pee. CT cheating on me with Mindy was the equivalent of planting a land mind in my vagina. Who knows what lethal explosions are about to go off down there? I need to get tested immediately.”

  Adele rubbed her head, the dull ache from before had returned with a vengeance, intensified by a lack of food for almost twenty-four hours.

  “I didn’t even think about it.”

  “Well, I’ve never thought you’d admit how useless you are. All you did was not think at Corentini,” Mindy appeared around the corner. Her swollen lip looked like it needed to be flown during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

  Adele sprung up along side Robynne. “I couldn’t have been that dumb, considering I ran Corentini for you.”

  “Prove it. No one is going to believe you. You’ll be lucky to get hired as a degreaser at a dive restaurant.” Mindy said.

  Robynne outstretched her hand in an attempt to grab Mindy. “Come closer so I can smack you again.”

  “Despite your outbursts, I’ve come to bail you two convicts out of jail. Being the head of my father’s multi-million dollar company, I have an obligation to uphold Corentini’s status. The media shit-storm resulting from this could cause our stock to take a nose dive. If it were up to me, you’d rot in jail, but it’s for the best interest of the company. You can say thank you at anytime,” Mindy said.

  Mindy lorded over their release, expecting gratitude for dropping the assault charges. After an hour, the ladies were free to go. Mindy, on the hunt for stray crumbs of appreciation, trailed behind her former employees as they left One Police Plaza.

  Businesses put to sleep by the advancing night sky closed for the day, While others, newly awakened, had their shutters creak to life. On it’s worst day, New York smelled like an abandoned port-a-potty. On it’s best day, Manhattan smelled like money, the freshly printed kind.

  Adele opened her arms and sniffed up the city’s eclectic bouquet of scents. Mindy pointed at Adele’s strange exhibition from inside her Lexus.

  “She’s finally lost whatever was left of her mind. Anyway, I would offer you two a ride, but I haven’t scotch-guarded my seats, so maybe next time,” Mindy said.

  “If she’s lost her mind, it’s thanks to you. Why are you still here? Don’t you have some late night soul-stealing to do?” Robynne asked.

  Mindy disappeared into a see of tail lights.

  Robynne pulled her friend back into reality. ““What are you doing?”

  “Smelling freedom.” Adele lifted her nose high in the air. “It’s wonderful. Take a whiff.”

  She waited expectantly for Robynne to oblige her. After a few eye rolls, she inhaled the stagnant air into her lungs.

  “It smells like urine. Can we go home now? I have to wash Eau d’Prison off me.” Roybnne said.

  “Do we have any lysol?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Robynne said.

  After one hailed cab, one impromptu stop at Ray’s Pizza, and one mad dash to their neighborhood corner store (for some vintage boxed wine), Adele and Robynne settled in for the night.

  Parboiled in a tub overflowing with every perfumed soap-based product on her side of the sink, Adele’s thoughts turned to Ambrogio. She envisioned him sitting on a desk, strong-arming his way through some business deal or another. Ambrogio’s scent rose in her nostrils in defiance of robust aromas like Jasmine and Lilac floating in the air.

  Her mind, her spiteful arch nemesis, conjured Ambrogio’s touch against her skin. His ghost caress sent chills down her arms, pebbled her nipples and made her center spasm. A insubordinate hand traveled down her body quickly finding its intended target. With her neck tossed back against the lip of the tub, ears ringing, eyes closed against reality, heart a flutter, and stomach convulsing as the water gently lapped against her hand’s diligent ministrations between her legs, she came.

  Adele heard herself moan when the ringing in her ears subsided. The climb was gradual. The fall over the edge was instantaneous. Her body bucked against the orgasm coursing throughout her body, so much so, that her leg slammed against the faucet.

  Just like that it was over. Adele’s heart throbbed along with her shin. She gripped the edges of the tub to aid in her escape from the water’s tepid grasp when she heard sobs coming from the living room.

  She went from Robynne’s bedroom, to her’s, and lastly, the kitchen where she saw her roommate sitting on the fire escape. Adele’s first thought was to give Robynne privacy, but the urge was superseded her need to console her friend, who cried only on rare occasions. Adele listened as Robynne recounted the details of their jail ordeal, CT’s betrayal, and her newly unemployed status.

  Unemployment, Adele ascertained, was the number one cause of Robynne’s strife. Caught of guard by Adele’s snooping, Robynne (who had noticed Adele standing there ten minutes deep into her phone call) looked angry as she climb back through their window.

  “I never took you for an eavesdropper,” Robynne said.

  “I heard noises from the bathroom, so I came out to investigate.”

  “Interesting, I heard suspicious noises coming from inside the bathroom. What happened to your leg?”

  Adele blushed. “I’m clumsy, remember? Classic deflection. Want to talk about it?”

  Both women converged on the sofa. Wine flowed freely and the oil-slicked pizza disappeared with breakneck speed. Ebony and Ivory, uninvited guests in the women’s �
�woe to us” party, wormed their way in between the women.

  It was a scene that would be replicated for weeks to come. Their moods spun round an emotional Roulette table, alternating on loneliness, bitterness, indifference and sadness.

  A carton of frozen calories her closely guarded companion, Adele kept Ben & Jerry’s in business. Robynne scoured the help wanted ads in her devout pursuit of a new job. Unfortunately for her, Mindy is only thorough when it comes to vindictiveness. Blacklisted, Robynne stopped sending out her resume, instead, she sat on the couch watching soap operas.

  Adele entered the room in a battered Fordham University t-shirt and basketball shorts, rolled over three times at the waist.

  “I’m going to the store for more ice cream. You want anything?”

  Currently using Ivory as a pillow, Robynne picked stray popcorn kernels off her chest. “I’m on a strict popcorn and Ramen Noodles diet. I can’t afford your designer ice cream habit.”

  Adele shrugged her shoulders and headed for the door. On her way out, she glanced at her reflection in the glass key-holder posted next to the door. A fat scrunchie failed at rounding up her hair, crusted ice cream hid in the corners of her mouth, her bloodshot eyes looked sullen and distant.

  Adele did not recognize herself. She peered at the stranger posing as Robynne, who was busy cursing at a character on the TV, and cringed.

  “What have we become?” Adele asked.

  “Could you keep it down. My stories are on.”

  Adele marched over to the flat screen, unplugged, and blocked it from Robynne’s view.

  “Weren’t you leaving?”

  “We’re leaving,” Adele replied.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Robynne said.

  She kneeled in front of Robynne. “We need a change of scenery.”

  “If I want a change in scenery, I’ll just change the damn channel.” Robynne said, now fully erect, prompting Ivory to make his great escape.

  Adele ignored her friend. “Let’s go to Italy.”

  “Have you lost your mind? We don’t have jobs, and I’m not secretly rich like you. My sister still hasn’t found work. Funding my mom’s stay at the best assisted living facility takes money. My savings will carry all of us for a year at most. How the hell am I supposed to just pick up and fly to Italy?” Robynne said.