by Keisha Ervin
I knew exactly where both of their minds had gone, and since I was enraged with my visitors, I decided to have some fun.
“Hey,” Christopher said, opening his hands and looking at Michael. “Feel free to help yourself.”
As if I were feeding a stray dog, I slapped an Egg Foo Young patty on Michael’s plate and covered it with rice. After I poured his wine, he looked at me like I’d gone crazy.
“Listen,” he said. “I’ll just come back later. This ain’t cool and I’m not in the mood for games.”
I laid down my fork and huffed. “Michael, you came here and said it was imperative that you speak to me about your wife. What is it that you want me to know, and what shall I tell her if she happens to stop by?”
Christopher added his two cents. “Just tell her you don’t know him, and that you’ve never seen him a day in your life. That’s all she wants to hear anyway.”
I turned my attention to Christopher. “So, is that what you would want me to tell your wife if she shows up?”
“I’m not married, but I suspect that Michael would want you to say something like that.”
I held my wine glass and twirled it around. “You suspect, huh? Well, let me tell you what I suspect. I suspect that you’re a married man, too. And, the only reason that you’re dealing with me is because I don’t ask questions, and I continuously make myself available to you. According to you, I was the perfect catch, and God, where did a woman like me come from? Just like Michael, you were so lucky to find me, right?”
Christopher dropped his fork and angrily looked across the table at me. “I don’t know where all of this is coming from, and if I were married, how could I be spending all of this time with you? You’re crazy for thinking that, but it doesn’t surprise me, since you’re use to dealing with married men.”
I didn’t even bother to look over at Michael, who I knew was indulged with the heated conversation striking up between me and Christopher. For now, he seemed to be a good target.
“Christopher, cut the crap. The first day I saw you at the post office, I opened my compact mirror and searched you up and down. I saw the glistening wedding band on your finger, and after you dropped your package, it suddenly disappeared. By the time you made it to the counter, the ring was history. And just to be sure that my eyes hadn’t played tricks on me, the first night that you slept in my house, I searched your pants. I saw your ring, and with diamonds like that, how dare you fuck and suck me the way you do? Your wife would be devastated, wouldn’t she?”
Christopher didn’t have much to say. All he could do was take a deep and hard swallow. Michael stood up and put his hands in his pockets.
“I . . . I’m leaving,” he said. “Uh, I really need you to—”
“If the wife stops by, you need me to keep my mouth shut, right? You didn’t say that the other night, and if or when your wife arrives, I will tell her what I wish to tell her. It all depends on my mood, and since you’re so damn unhappy with her, my coming forth might do you a tremendous favor.”
Michael didn’t say one word, and when Christopher stood and reached for his keys on the counter, they both headed for the door. I followed and got a whiff of Christopher’s panty-dropping cologne and an eyeful of his nail-gripping ass in his jeans. Maybe I had been too hard on him; at this point, one last night of passion wasn’t going to hurt. Michael left, and as Christopher moved forward, I reached for his arm.
“Good night, Michael,” I said, and got no response as he abruptly got in his car and left. Christopher held the door and waited for me to speak.
“Look,” I said. “All you had to do was be honest with me about your situation and none of this would have occurred. I don’t like liars, and as open as I was with you about my relationships, you could have been the same. If you’re unhappy at home, that’s your problem. It has nothing to do with me, unless you’re foolish enough to get caught. Michael is history because he got caught. You’re history, too, because I don’t appreciate a man who lies to me. However, I was hoping that you’d stay for a few hours, and end this with me on a good note—if you know what I mean.”
Christopher stared at me without cracking one smile or saying a word. He hesitantly walked back inside and tossed his keys in a chair. The power of pussy is unbelievable, I thought, as I pulled the silk nightgown over my head. He reached for my body, and I grabbed at his belt buckle. His eyes dropped to my lips, and as we intensely kissed, he rushed out of his clothes. He picked me up to straddle his hips and gazed into my eyes.
“I . . . I don’t want to end this,” he said. “I should have been honest with you about my wife, but when I saw you, I had to have you. I wasn’t sure how you would feel about me being married, so I did what I had to do.”
I placed my fingers on Christopher’s lips to shush him. “Like I said before, one day at a time, Christopher. Now, fuck me like you’ll never see me again, and I promise to do the same.”
Wasting no time, while still holding me, Christopher focused in on my breasts and sucked them. He held my butt cheeks in his hands and inched his fingers over to my slit to wet me. I was beyond drenched, and anxious to get this piece of a damn good dick for the last time. I almost cried from the thought, but at that point, it was just how it had to be.
As Christopher hardened, he laid me back on the floor and smiled as he lustfully admired my body. He reached for his pants and pulled out his wallet. When it came out, so did his wedding band. It quickly spun around before landing flat on the hardwood floor. We both glanced at his ring, and Christopher shrugged it off as he removed the condom from his wallet. He put on the condom and found the spot he wanted, remaining there for the rest of the night.
Doomsday
I sat on my couch smoking a cigarette and thought deeply about the last year of my life. It had been every bit of interesting, and out of all the men I’d been with, the memory of Christopher stuck with me the most. Surprisingly for me, it was hard to let him go, but I always had a difficult time letting go of something so good. Greed, I guess, but the money I’d been paid was worth more to me than anything.
When the doorbell rang, I stood up and pulled down my fitted T-shirt to cover my midriff. I rubbed my hands on my thighs and was a bit nervous about meeting with her. When I opened the door, she cracked a tiny smile, but had a saddened look on her pretty face. I invited her in, and after we both took a seat on the couch, I opened the huge envelope in front of me. I took a deep breath and asked the Caucasian woman, “Are you positive you want to see this?”
She nodded and tightly squeezed her eyes before opening them again. Her hands trembled as I gave her the pictures and tapes of me and Christopher. “The pictures are just of him in my bed, but the tapes reveal much more than that. They’re not going to be easy to look at, and it might be more than what you asked for.”
Mrs. Carter nodded again, and slowly flipped through the naked pictures of Christopher lying in my bed. Tears formed in her eyes, and she lowered the pictures to her lap while offering me a comment. “He . . . he was supposed to be out of town on business,” she yelled, then swallowed hard. She rubbed her hand across her forehead before she continued to look at the rest of the pictures. “I don’t understand how he could do this to me . . . to us. We just had a baby and—”
I reached for the Kleenex box on my table and gave it to her. “I’m sorry. I understand what you’re going through, but you asked for my assistance because you wanted to know.”
She wiped her tears and looked at me as if I were the enemy. “How often did you have sex with him?”
I sighed, and for whatever reason, shamefully dropped my head and softly spoke. “Almost daily.” I lifted my head and did my best to put her at ease, turning the anger back at him. That started with me having no regrets about enjoying sex with her husband, and encouraging her to follow through with her plans. “The tapes will tell you everything you want to know. They’re going to be very difficult to watch, but please remember that you paid me to do a job
and I had to do it well. Meeting him at the post office that day was your idea, and I don’t want you to have any regrets for wanting to know the truth. Use the truth to your advantage, and don’t allow this to happen to you again. If you do, it would be a true waste of twenty-five thousand dollars, and I hope you know what steps to take in order to get your money back from him. Please, use my information to your advantage and never look back.”
Mrs. Carter slowly nodded and reached in her purse for an envelope. She handed it to me, and when I opened it, I saw that the money was there. Our business was finished, and even though I felt deeply sorry for her, I couldn’t take any chances of Christopher showing up and my cover being blown. I stood and so did she. We shook hands, and I wished Mrs. Carter well. If anything, I knew how difficult it would be for her to leave a man like Christopher, but after seeing the tapes, hopefully, it would make her decision easier.
After she left, I headed to my next appointment with Michael’s wife. Six months of my services had cost her a pretty penny. The money didn’t seem to bother her one bit; to her, it was so very worth it. She couldn’t wait to show her lawyer the information I provided.
“So, were you able to get more information like I asked?” she said, sitting across the table from me.
“I have more pictures for you and a taped conversation where Michael threatens to get rid of you if you fail to divorce him. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would go to that extreme, but I guess you know him better than I do.”
She snapped and darted her finger at me. “You’re right, you don’t know him as well as I do. I don’t trust him as far as I can see him and I truly believe he’s capable of doing anything. Now, give me what you have and let me hurry up and pay you so I can get out of here. In the meantime, you’d better promise me that you will never see Michael again and you won’t tell anyone that I paid you for these services.”
I folded my arms, rather disturbed by Sharon’s behavior. “What in the hell would make you think I’m interested in pursuing a relationship with Michael? In case you forgot, I’m in the business of tricking, not treating. Michael is not the kind of man I would ever seriously involve myself with, and frankly, I’m surprised that a woman of your stature would go this far in dealing with her husband. You seem to have a lot going for you, and chasing after a man doesn’t suit you.”
Sharon put her hand on her forehead and rubbed away the pressure. “You know what . . . you’re right. It’s just that Michael and I have been together for almost thirty years. He’s cheated before, but this is the first time he’s ever mentioned divorcing me. When I look at the pictures and the tapes, I see how excited he is about you and it angers me. I used to make him feel that way and it’s been such a long time since I’ve had that kind of impact on him. So, forgive me for my attitude, but I will make him pay for what he’s done and make him pay in a way that only satisfies me.”
“Please, don’t share with me what you intend to do about your husband. I don’t want to know what your plans are and you’d better be very careful about what you say and who you say it to. Like I tell all of my clients, I only provide you with the information you asked me for. Whatever happens after that is up to you.”
Sharon took a sip from her ice water and slid an envelope across the table. “Tell me something,” she said. “How do you not get attached to the men you’re paid to see? Have you ever had feelings for any of them?”
“Getting attached to dog-ass men isn’t in my vocabulary. Now, there are times that I feel sexually satisfied by them, but in your case, and for the record, Michael didn’t move me in such a way. Still, if he had, I’ve learned to put business before pleasure. My business with Michael is finished and it doesn’t bother me in no way to move on without him.”
I picked up the envelope and tucked it underneath my arm. Again, I wished Sharon all the best, and left having no regrets.
Later that day, I met with James’s soon-to-be wife, Lance’s wife of ten years, and Dwayne’s long-time girlfriend, all of whom had paid for my services too. Out of the five women I’d met, only one seemed confident that it was over. That was Michael’s wife, and she was confident that her attorney would make Michael pay. I didn’t doubt her one bit, and her cutthroat attitude meant major trouble for him.
The other women had tears flowing and somehow felt as if they were exempt from this kind of foolishness ever happening to them. I could see the anger in their eyes, and surprisingly, some of that anger was directed toward me. A part of me understood why, but it didn’t necessarily take a woman as pretty, sophisticated, or sexy as me to lure these men in as I had. They were all game for whatever, and throughout the many dark and secretive days and nights that we crept, none of these women seemed to matter to their men.
My bags were already packed, and after almost a year, I was ready to leave my so-called happy home. Thing was, it wasn’t really my home, and if Michael, Christopher, Lance, Dwayne, or James had inquired about me a bit more, they would have known so. Furniture was only in the bedroom, the living room and kitchen. The rest of my 4000-square foot house was empty, including every single closet. I never mentioned a family, and “my house” didn’t display pictures of anyone. After day one, none of them wanted to get to know me. My occupation didn’t matter much, and telling them that it paid the bills seemed to be good enough. It was definitely good enough for me, and I was looking forward to my rewarding career. I knew it would earn me more money than I ever thought possible, so I guess being classified as an undercover ho/detective wasn’t so bad after all.
It’s Not Over . . . Yet
What can I say, other than my life was great. The money I’d made allowed me to travel to many places I’d dreamed of going, and I was finally able to purchase a place I could truly call home. I had plans of going back to work soon; finding more women who were willing to put their men on blast wasn’t going to be difficult at all. I already had women contacting me about settling a score with their significant others, and as I reviewed some of the letters I’d received, one of them caught me by surprise. Through the letter, I could feel this particular woman’s pain. Like some of the others, she’d been lied to, cheated on, and was willing to do anything to bring down her man. More than anything, she was ready to kill, and the man who had pushed her to this conclusion was Parker Rhodes.
I hadn’t seen Parker in years, and the sight of his name made me uneasy. I remembered when I wanted to kill his ass too for the hurt he’d caused me, so I definitely understood what the woman in the letter was feeling. I’d figured that by now he’d changed his attitude toward women, and it was disappointing to know that he hadn’t changed one bit. I was skeptical about doing anything and my involvement could very well mean serious trouble for me. Still, I wanted to see what end result the woman was looking for and how she intended to use me for help. With that in mind, I finished my hot black coffee, then called her, using my middle name, Jakki.
“May I speak to Vivica?” I asked.
“Who’s calling?”
“Jakki.”
“Jakki who?”
“Jakki who has your letter in her hand and wants to speak to you about Parker.”
She paused. “Oh . . . oh, okay. Hold on.”
I was left on hold for a few minutes, and then Vivica got back on the phone. “Jakki, I don’t want to talk too much over the phone. Are you able to help me or not?”
“Your letter didn’t specify how you wanted my help. Are you married and need evidence for your divorce? Are you just a girlfriend who wants evidence that her man is cheating? Are you a fiancée who isn’t sure she can trust the man she intends to marry . . . What? What’s your purpose?”
“I . . . I’m a woman who wants her man wiped off the face of the earth.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t do that kind of work. You may have to get a hit man for that.”
She laughed. “I see. But, if it’s not any trouble, can we meet somewhere and talk?”
“Sure. But first, how did
you hear about me?”
“My friend, Sharon, gave me your card. She said you only worked with referrals and praised you for helping with her divorce from Michael.”
“Yes, I did help her in a major way. Are you married to the man you mentioned in the letter, Parker . . . Parker Rhodes?”
“Yes, I am Mrs. Rhodes. My husband is an asshole, and I’d like to see that he gets exactly what Michael got.”
My throat ached a bit, as I hadn’t known definitely that Parker had gone through with the marriage that basically ended our relationship. I was eager to meet this woman, even if I wouldn’t be able to assist her in the way she wanted.
“Where would you like to meet?” I asked.
“I’m at work right now. Why don’t you come to my office?”
“I can meet you around noon. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely.”
Vivica gave me directions to her office, and I left an hour early so I could be on time.
When I arrived at the Wilshire Building in downtown St. Louis, Vivica’s secretary asked me to have a seat in the lobby. I waited and paged through a Business Matters magazine until she came to get me. I was a bit nervous about meeting her, and even though I had dressed my best, I couldn’t deny that meeting the woman married to Parker bothered me.
Vivica came out, and, mildly put, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Not as pretty as me, but some would beg to differ. She reminded me of Gabrielle Union and her strut was quite the same. While looking me over, she reached out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jakki. Come on back to my office so we can talk.”
Our high heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floors as we made our way to her office. The entire place was quite impressive. When we reached her contemporary-designed office, she asked me to have a seat in a circular tan leather chair. I couldn’t help but notice the loving pictures of her and Parker on her desk and wall. The one that ate at me the most was a wedding picture she had smack on her desk. They looked so happy together. I reached for it to take a closer look.