The Game of Deception

by Victor L. Martin

  Volanda snatched her glasses off nearly breaking them. “I know damn well you don’t call yourself threatening me, Bruce.” She had no fear of him.

  “No threats.” He smiled, “Only a promise. Either you talk to me, or I promise I’ll have a little chat with your man. I think he’ll enjoy the tape I have of you and me having our closure. Don’t look surprised now. Yeah, our last hookup is on tape.”

  Volanda sank back in the seat. Her closure with Bruce was back in late November. It was the last time she had sex with him. “You’re lying!” she said.

  “Keep wishing.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. After he pulled up the ten-second video, he turned the screen toward her and played it. Her eyes widened at the sight of her and Bruce going at it wildly. He flipped it shut.

  “I had a hidden camera in the room. You think I’m going to just let you walk out of my life so easy and give my baby to another man. Bitch, you crazy. You fucked up by telling me our date was for closure. You think my condom breaking was an accident? Nope. Funny thing about your conniving ass is that you allowed me to keep going until I came, all in you. I was the only man paying your fat, greasy ass any attention and now you think it’s all about you because you lost some fucking weight. Bitch please! That baby is mine and your deception ends today, not unless we can go back to like we were. You ain’t gonna play me.” He laughed.

  Volanda gripped the steering wheel. It was the steering wheel or the gun in her purse. She had too much positive going on in her life. “You know what Bruce?” she said calmly. “You can’t do any harm to me. You failed at dropping the dime on the release behind Regail and you’ll fail at coming between Mance and me. Trust what I say, you got the game messed up.” She smiled. “Fuck you, and your tape, you sorry black no good son-of-a-bitch.” She was no longer blocked in from the rear so she put the Lexus in reverse and left Bruce fuming. He watched her leave with hate towards her. She was obviously taking him for a joke. Bruce did not intend to leave his wife and his stance was firm. His mind turned violent toward Volanda. If he could not have her, then no one could.

  Mance had never gotten around to hollering at Jay about Poo-Man and his loose lips, and for this, Jay had Poo-Man under his roof.

  Jay was taking a shower while Mikki was in the living room trying to figure out a way to help her cousin. Poo-Man’s parents were both addicted to crack and had no type of function in his life. His extended family was the definition of fucked up.

  “You better be glad that Aunt Trish don’t know where you at ’cause she woulda been done called your tail in,” Mikki said to get Poo-Man to smile. She felt sorry for him because she could tell he was scared. When she asked him about Maria, he refused to speak on it. Deep inside, he was afraid to tell anyone about his vivid nightmares of Maria.

  “Poo,” she said seriously, sitting across from him. “I really don’t know what to do. Ain’t got but so much money. I just got off welfare two months ago and I’m struggling. You know I can’t let you stay with me, and you can’t stay here either. I wish you were not in the trouble you’re in and I hate that you have to deal with so much at a young age.” She reached out to hold his hand when she saw a tear roll down his face.

  “Don’t cry, Poo.” Her lips quivered. “I got a plan, okay? Blood is thicker than water and you will always be my number one cousin, okay?” She squeezed his hand.

  Poo-Man was afraid of his future. With no place to go, he had slept in the streets last night. He had no true friends and the only person whoever loved him was Maria. He knew he was wrong by cheating on her, and yet he couldn’t fathom another man fucking her. Mikki wiped his tears away when the phone started ringing. She got up to answer it.

  “Hello,” she said, looking at Poo across the room.

  “Is Jay in?”

  “Yes. He’s in the shower, but I can holla at him. May I ask whose calling?”

  “This Ghetti.”

  “Oh.” She headed for the bathroom. “Gimme a second.” She had no clue to the beef between Poo-Man and Ghetti.

  “Thanks yo.” He waited.

  Jay was drying off when Mikki came in with the phone. “Ghetti wants to talk to you.” She handed him the phone, then took his towel to dry him off.

  “Holla,” Jay said. “What’s up?”

  “Nothin’, whut you up to?”

  “Just chilling.”

  “Yo, ummm, I need to put a bug in your ear. It’s dealin’ wit’ Mikki’s cousin.”

  “I’m listening,” Jay replied as Mikki tenderly dried his penis with the towel.

  “Yo, her cousin is a snitch. Dude wrote a statement on me to the pops.”

  “When?”

  “Last month. The coward set me up in Durham. I can’t go in to detail over this line, but shit is serious. He was locked up on a probation violation, but he agreed to work with the pops to bag me and so they let ‘em out. I know you saw whut he did to that girl in Durham. Dawg, Volanda gave me the rundown on everything.”

  Jay gripped the phone. “So what? Why you telling me? What it sounds like you telling me is that the pops are on your side.”

  “C’mon Jay. You know it ain’t bouncin’ like that. Shit is too complicated right now. I just want you to be on point and keep a distance from Poo, if you see ‘em.”

  “How the fuck is it complicated? Mance fucks with the pops and you do too. On the real, I ain’t feeling the pops in any form. Even if it is a bitch Mance is fucking! Mance on some fuck shit, to keep it gutta with you.”

  “Say whut!” Ghetti’s temper was instant. “If you feelin’ all bent over my fam’s relationship, why you ain’t straighten it out with him?”

  “Man, fuck you and fuck Mance and his police bitch!”

  “Dawg, you must be on that powder real hard ’cause all of a sudden you actin’ like you the ironman or something. You ain’t tryin’ to see me or my cousin.”

  “Nigga, you ain’t the only one wit’ dem thangs! But listen up. If the fucking pizza man comes to my crib about any of this shit, you got action! You got the wrong muthafucka to be tossing them perforated threats at!” Jay ended the call, reached for his boxers then stormed out of the bathroom. Mikki was on his heels trying to piece together the one-sided conservation she had heard. All this talk about Ghetti and Mance bedding with the pops had her wanting to know what was up. She had met Ghetti only once and knew Mance a little. What she had no clue of was that Volanda or Detective Carter was Mance’s soon to be wife.

  Ghetti hung up knowing he had fucked up by revealing his connection to Poo-Man. As for Jay tripping, it was too late to stress it. Leaving his bedroom, he went to find Mance to tell him about his call with Jay. His third eye was telling him that Poo-Man was at Jay’s crib. If he told Volanda, he would be snitching. He found Mance in the kitchen washing dishes while Volanda was in the laundry room washing clothes. Ghetti told Mance the deal and found it odd that Mance didn’t blank on him.

  “Why Jay flippin’ out? I was only tryin’ to look out for ‘em any damn way!” Ghetti was sitting at the kitchen table. Mance stepped away from the dishwasher.

  “Ghetti, shit between Jay and me are sour because I backed out of a business deal at the last minute.”

  “Business deal?”

  “Yeah, and it was not any hair supplies or new clippers.”

  Ghetti looked at him in disbelief. “I thought you were done, years ago.”

  Mance shook his head from side to side. “Jay and I were gonna go in on something big, but I couldn’t risk it. Volanda told me she was having my baby only five days before the deal was set and I pulled out. Jay got mad, but fuck him. All I care about is my family. It’s bad enough that I’ve been lying to Volanda. I’m through with the drugs and that’s on everything I love.” Mance rubbed his face. “I love Volanda and ain’t shit worth losing her over and that’s on the real.”

  “I feel ya,” Ghetti said, “But whut about Jay?”

  “He’ll calm down.”

  “Whut i
f Jay tells Poo where I live at?”

  “You really think Poo is at Jay’s crib?”

  “I’d bet on it. I know Poo-Man ain’t got many places to hide.”

  Mance stood up. “I’ll be back. Let me holla at Volanda right quick.”

  “You gonna tell ’er ’bout Jay?”

  “Nah,” Mance said. “That would bring heat on Jay.”

  They gave each other a thug hug. Mance went to the laundry room, didn’t see Volanda, but he found her in the bedroom folding clothes. When she looked up, he knew something was wrong because he saw tears rolling down her face.

  “Baby, we need to talk,” she said softly.

  Mance closed the door behind him and prayed that her conversation would not lead to any new drama.

  CHAPTER 15:

  Whose Baby?

  Goldsboro North Carolina

  Mance’s Bedroom 10:02 P.M.

  What’s on your mind, baby?” he asked closing the door. “Mance, I need to tell you something.” She wiped her eyes. “Baby, since I been with you, I’ve been with another man.” She got straight to the point as they held hands.Mance snatched his hand from hers, rising to his feet. She remained seated on the bed.

  “Please, hear me out,” she pleaded. “I—his name is Bruce and I was with him before I met you. He’s married, and I was having an affair with him. Last November I met secretly with him to have a final closure on our affair. One thing led to another and I ended up having unprotected sex.” She felt it was too much to just say the condom popped. “A month later I took an EPT and it was positive, so then—”

  “Say what!”

  “Mance, please let me finish,” she implored.

  “Fuck you! How the hell you gonna sit here and tell me this bullshit! I don’t believe this shit!” He was beyond words.

  “Let me finish what I was saying.” She fought hard to remain calm.

  “No! Fuck this. We finished!” He balled his hands into a fist. “Get your shit and get the fuck out!”

  She stood up. “Mance, please hear me out, okay?”

  “Did you fucking hear me?” He walked up on her. “Bitch, get your shit befo—”

  SMACK!

  She slapped him hard, causing him to see stars. “Now listen to me! I’m trying to explain something to you, Mance! Just let me finish. And if you call me a bitch one more time, we’re going to be two black Negro’s up in this motherfucker fighting and I’ll do it to get you to listen!” Tears fell from her eyes.

  “Don’t put your fuckin’ hands on me!” He took a step back. “You got one minute, then I want you the fuck out!”

  She tried to reach out for him, but he pushed her hands away. “Okay. Okay, like I was saying.” She paused to wipe her face. “I took the test and it said I was pregnant. Bruce was never going to leave his wife and when I told him about the test, he told me to get an abortion. I love you, Mance. I could not tell you the truth. I didn’t want to lose you. When I had sex with you for the first time, my intentions were to have you to believe the baby was yours.”

  He looked at her wanting to comfort her, but he refused to move. He was slowly learning a proven rule that it’s a thin line between love and hate. He was about to tell her to leave when she picked up a yellow form from the dresser.

  “Baby, when I told you I was going to New Bern earlier this week, I really went to see my doctor.”

  “What? You fucking your doctor, too?” he spat angrily.

  She accepted his anger because he had a right to it. “Mance, my doctor said I was only five weeks pregnant, not two months pregnant. If I were carrying Bruce’s baby, I would have been two months pregnant. I had sex with you on the tenth of January and on after.” She handed him the medical report. “I’m carrying your baby. That E.P.T was wrong.” She wept softly as he scrutinized the medical report.

  “How I know you ain’t still fucking with . . . Bruce? And how the fuck you think I feel that you only slept with me on the stance of trying to pin a baby on me? Why did you even tell me this?” He wanted answers.

  She swore on her soul that she was done with Bruce. She then told him why she was uncovering her attempted deceitfulness by explaining how Bruce still believed the baby was his. She told him how Bruce had surprised her and how he threatened to blackmail her with a sex tape. When she was done, she asked him for his forgiveness.

  “If you want me to leave, I’ll understand,” she said apologetically. “I love you Mance, and I know what I tried to do was wrong, but I know I’m carrying your baby.”

  He folded the medical report in half then sat down on the bed. If he sent her packing, what about the issue behind Ghetti? “What do you want me to do, Volanda?” he said languidly. “This hurts, baby.”

  She got down on her knees and reached up to hold his face. “Forgive me,” she said with watery eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mance.”

  He looked into her sorrowful eyes then thought about his actions with Amanda. He was guilty of cheating and there was no way he could sugarcoat it. Volanda, she had the courage to admit her wrongs and tell the truth no matter how painful the truth was. He admired her for that. Even so, he still could not tell her about his attempted affair with Amanda. In his heart, he was aware of his mistake with Amanda so how could he expect Volanda not to make a mistake?

  “We’ll work this out, Volanda.” He meant what he said.

  Volanda reached up and hugged him, crying into his shoulder.

  “C’mon baby.” He stood up with her. “Get dressed.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Some shit going down.”

  “Okay.” She wiped her face then reached out to hug him once more.

  Ghetti was in the kitchen with his HK .45C when Mance and Volanda walked in. He had heard them beefing and from the way she was holding his arm he knew they had resolved their issues. Mance told Ghetti that he could not underestimate Jay on what he would or wouldn’t do, so he felt it was best to leave the crib. He also based his actions on his seed. Mance was not a coward. He was smart. They were out the door in five minutes. Mance pulled off first in his Lexus with Volanda while she spoke to Amanda on her cell phone. Ghetti followed them in his Infiniti M45. He was not feeling this shit. Along the stretch of Highway 70 heading toward Selma, Mance was on the phone with Ghetti.

  “Whut we gonna do?” Ghetti eased off the gas when his radar detector started beeping.

  “Let’s just chill tonight at Volanda’s apartment. What? Oh yeah. Never mind. Volanda just reminded me that her partner is at her crib so you know the deal on that.”

  “I’m good. I’ll go chill wit’ Latasha,” Ghetti said. “Or go check out Hurk.”

  “Don’t get in any trouble, Ghetti,” Mance warned. “And don’t call Jay. Just leave it alone because I’ma call him tomorrow.”

  “All right.”

  “We’ll get up.”

  “Peace,” Ghetti said, ending the call. He separated from Mance when he crossed the bridge over I-95 in Selma. The jet-black M45 rode firmly on the 22-inch chrome and black Asanti rims. The silence was making his mood sour. There was a small group of hustlers hanging out at Raiford Street Park and they all stopped what they were doing to check out the shiny black car slowly rolling by. Ghetti had the system knocking with DMX’s “Slipping.” The weight of the HK .45C was a present reminder in his lap. All behind a gun, his life had been turned upside down. Turning the music down, he called Dayshea to see if anyone had called for him. She said no. This meant that Amanda was not responding to his letter. He could easily call her, but his ego was too large to allow him to stress her. He figured he had played himself, falling for a white girl.

  *Durham, North Carolina*

  Same Time

  Amanda muted the TV when the cell phone she held to her ear started to ring. Her lips were tight. She was calling the number in Florida before Mance and Volanda arrived. On the third ring she glanced at her watch. 10:41 p.m. Maybe she was calling too late.

  “Hello,” an elderly voice
of a female answered.

  Amanda cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but I umm . . . .”

  “Mrs. Hartford!”

  “Yes.”

  “I see you got my message. I know you are a bit perturbed by all this, but I will explain. First, I need you to give me a yes or no answer. Is your husband around?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. My name is Dawn Branscomb and my husband is fighting brain cancer, but he is still taking it day by day. Well, my husband was an obstetrician and when we resided in Raleigh, he worked at a clinic in Durham. Like I said, my husband has cancer and he wants to make things right with the Lord. Are you still with me?”

  “Yes ma’am. I’m listening.”

  “Good. My husband became friends with a doctor specializing in infertility. His name was Doctor Kevin Konner.”

  “He’s my doctor. He’s been treating me since I’ve been married.”

  “Yes, yes, I know this. Mrs. Hartford, I believe I have some chilling facts to share with you. What I’m about to share with you is a very bad deed. My husband gained knowledge of it three months ago and he broke many rules to get the truth. Mrs. Hartford, your husband has been paying off Doctor Konner to deceive you, my dear.”

  Amanda stood up. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Deceive me, how?”

  “My dear. Your husband is sterile. He’s the one with the issue, not you. You are not infertile and I—”

  “Stop it!” Amanda paced the floor. This had to be a game. Matt was still out to tear her apart mentally. Suddenly, she thought of how all the doctors had come through her husband. She could recall how he had gotten upset when she spoke about going to see a specialist out of state.

  “Mrs. Hartford, I have more to tell you. I can send the proof by e-mail. Do you remember a nurse by the name of Kimberly Potter?”

  Amanda sat back down. “Yes, she used to work in the office with Doctor Konner. I think she found another clinic to work at. I’m not sure.”

  “That’s not true, my dear. She was found murdered in her home just before Thanksgiving last year.”