Sinful Too

by Victor McGlothin

  “Could’ve fooled me,” argued Tangie. “This is too trifling, even for you. Call me when you get off tonight. I’ll come right over and step on this mess with both my size tens. Your tracks must be in too tight.” Earlier, she regretted barging her way into Dior’s personal affairs but now she was truly sorry for staying out of her friend’s business for too long. “Real friends owe it to one another to keep a lookout for foolishness, regardless of who it comes from. You’re asking for the kind of trouble you don’t want. Think on it because you’ve got to let somebody go. Too many men is too many men.”

  “I said, I got this!” shouted Dior with both hands raised.

  “What you’re doing is toxic on so many levels. Oomph, I can’t believe you.”

  I can, Nadeen thought, as she sauntered into the men’s clothing store. “Dior, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m not in the habit of doing this sort of thing but I felt conditions demanded it.”

  Dior’s mouth popped open like a trapdoor although there was no escape route to disappear through. “Yeah, it is a trip you showing up at my job out of the blue.”

  Tangie was a longtime admirer of the pastor’s wife when her membership resided at the Methodist Episcopal Greater Apostolic Church. Nadeen carried the title of “first lady” well and always dressed to impress. Tangie was taken aback, seeing the woman she’d held in such high regard wearing a jogging suit and sneakers like common folk. “Sister Allamay, it’s good to see you. You might not remember me. I’m Tangie Green,” she announced, oblivious to the reason for her impromptu visit. “I was a member at M.E.G.A. but moved my membership last year. I still miss the pastor’s sermons though. Oh, and the choirs didn’t let me down when it came to lifting voices up for the Lord.” Tangie chattered on amicably while Nadeen’s wicked gaze zoomed in on Dior’s frozen sneer.

  “If your friend was warning you against any further interaction with my family, you should listen to her,” Nadeen offered as calmly as you please. She didn’t have to get the whole truth from Richard. Dior couldn’t have sunk her hooks that deep into him unless she’d allowed him to do likewise between her legs. “You do understand this could get extremely dirty. Danger is just the beginning when you stoop to sleeping with someone’s husband. Richard and I have discussed it.”

  “Pastor Richard Allamay?” yelled Tangie in total disbelief. “That’s the Richard you were talking about?”

  Dior’s eyes narrowed in a sinister manner. “And?” she answered curtly, after feeling abandoned on the battlefield. “If that’s your attitude, you can get gone because I’m not in the mood to be judged by you or this.” She pointed her index finger at Nadeen.

  Tangie bowed her head, searching for the right place to stand in the midst of bad gone to worse. “Dior, you’re my girl and I care what happens to you. You’re right. It’s not my place to judge but that don’t make what you’re doing any better. This is killing me. You lied when I asked if you were trying to know him like that. You lied.”

  “Don’t you go throwing this in my face,” Dior grunted. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “The pastor of all people, Dior? The pastor!” Tangie clamored disappointedly. “I told you how hard it is for Godly men to maintain with all the lonely church hoochies ready to come up off the panties.” She glanced at Nadeen politely after taking it to the sheets. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Nadeen uttered agreeably. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Tangie.”

  “Thanks for nothing, Tangerine,” Dior snapped. “I didn’t think you’d bail on me, snuggling up to Richard’s wife and whatnot.”

  “You knew I would blow my top when I found out about you and a minister,” Tangie said assuredly. “That’s why you’ve been hiding it from me and keeping it to yourself. Ooh, this is killing me.”

  “I feel you there, sister,” Nadeen cosigned. “And thank you for trying to talk some sense into her. I’ve been respectable although disrespected. I’ve been prayerful and played for stupid. Now, I’m getting tired of being treated like I’m walking around with a tail.” When she reached into her bag, Tangie scurried behind the counter. Dior panicked along with her but refused to take her eyes off Nadeen’s, praying she hadn’t snapped. “Relax. I didn’t come here to take your life, Dior, despite having the right to. I have a proposition. Perhaps this is the time you should ask Tangie to go her own way.” Tangie was happy to make herself scarce seeing as how she thought death was just around the corner moments before. Dior stepped in front of her friend’s path, wisely blocking her exit.

  “Uh-uh. She’s staying. Anything you want to say to me, Tangie can hear it too,” Dior announced soundly.

  “Alright then, fine with you, fine with me. This is my first and final offer.” Nadeen laid her checkbook down then opened it. She seemed confused when the other two appeared clueless. “Money, that is what you’re after, isn’t it?” she asked Dior, positively sure that it was. “How much would it cost to make this sinful relationship go away? Five? Ten? Fifteen thousand?”

  Tangie licked her lips then gulped. “Dollars?”

  “Of course I’m prepared to discuss something more drastic if necessary,” added Nadeen earnestly.

  “Money?” Tangie asked yet again, when she failed to comprehend the thought of Dior actually getting paid to stop doing something she shouldn’t have in the first place.

  “Sure, women like Dior are always in it for the money. I’m willing to make the arrangements tonight, before we’ve all gone too far and there’s no turning back. Karma has a way of taking care of things once they’ve spun out of control, so to speak.”

  Tangie cleared her throat then tried to correct what she assumed was a grave mistake in character. “Sister Allamay, with all due respect, I think you’re out of line. Dior has obviously wronged you but she is not interested in taking your money on top of sleeping with your man.”

  “You can go now, Tangie,” Dior said without blinking. “Go on, I’ll call you later.” Tangie searched for signs of sanity while timidly passing between the women’s sparing session. Her pace accelerated when there were scarcely any to be found. “Now then, back to the money. How much do you think Richard is worth?”

  Nadeen came close to laughing. “For him, I wouldn’t give a nickel a pound. To keep my family together, to keep Richard’s legacy alive and growing through his ministry, I’d give all that I have. His last mistress accepted seven thousand and a Hyundai. Oh, you probably thought you were his first ghetto-queen. Sorry to disappoint you. He’s been with a filthy mutt and come home with fleas before.” Nadeen did pay off Richard’s kept woman, after she threatened to expose the affair in the presence of Nadeen’s parents during a church retreat. Dior was younger and apparently greedier. She would likely want a great deal more than a Hyundai.

  “True, I love money and would do just about anything to get paid, kick back awhile, and nest on it. Huh, you knew that though, or you would have made other plans to get rid of me. You rich chicks are something else,” Dior countered craftily. “White or black, you’re pretty much the same. Men run to me because of the things you can’t do or aren’t willing to for them. Richard loves being licked and he’s just as generous when returning the favor. Whenever he gets hungry, I feed him and then I send him on home to you. There’s no point in telling you what really floats his boat. You’re too old and too big to pull it off anyway.” She flung a dirty grin at Nadeen then laughed in her face. “Tell you what you should do: Save your money for the divorce. You won’t ever be rid of me and I’ll never stop giving Richard what he keeps running back for. It started out as fun and games, me and him. Now, I’m in it to my very last breath.”

  “Watch your mouth, child,” Nadeen whispered somberly. “That might come sooner than you think.”

  No sooner than Nadeen left, Dior disregarded her threats of cosmic reprisal and the horror of reaping what she sowed. As far as Dior was concerned, Karma was the stage name of a stripper who worked the late shift at a raunchy dive
bar on the south side. Dooney used to date her. Nothing is going to happen to me that I don’t want it to, she thought. As for Richard, he is different from what I’m used to. He’s crazy for loving me. I’m crazy for letting him, although I wish I could love him like Nadeen does. Enough to come flapping into some other chick’s job talking about get away from my husband or I’ll pay you. What kind of stuff is that? I could learn to dig him that much, only difference would be, I’d bust out the checkbook to have his other lady’s head split wide open. Huh, bet I wouldn’t have to pay that fee but once. I’m tired of dealing with housewives and headaches. I don’t need Tangie to understand me or why I’m staying close to my meal ticket. She’s already got a good job and a little piece of fame to hold her down. I want to be somebody too. Richard’s my pass out of this life of scheming and dreaming. Once I’m out, I ain’t ever jumping back in.

  A fog of reflection settled in after Dior realized she was in another deep pit of immorality, telling herself that she was purely going after what she wanted and how this was going to be different from all the seedy relationships she’d been involved in before. She winced when remembrance of the pain she’d caused other women came back like a swift backhand slap. The sting of getting in too deep paled in comparison to the thought of losing a good friend over her bad case of man-stealing blues.

  Dior’s watch read nine thirty when she pulled her car into the parking lot behind Tangie’s apartment building east of downtown. She remained nestled in the driver’s seat until the nerve she’d searched for on the drive over actually found her. Still somewhat cloaked with the veil of apprehension, Dior knocked against Tangie’s door, wondering what her best and only friend felt about the lies she’d concealed and the married minister who kept her bed warm. Heavy-laden with reservations, Dior turned to leave just as she had arrived, with her tail tucked and head bowed. She cringed when someone approached the door from the inside of Tangie’s apartment.

  “Dior? What are you doing here?” Tangie asked quietly through a narrow gap in the doorway. She clutched at the silk leopard-print robe when it fell open, then she looked over her shoulder before returning her attention to her latest visitor’s pitiful expression. “Uhhhh, you should have called first. But, since you didn’t, I guess you should come on in.”

  Dior raised her head as if to thank Tangie for the invitation without actually having to say the words. She slinked inside, neglecting to notice that a number of candles burned throughout the living room. “I’m sorry for popping up like this, Tangie,” she offered finally. “I would have called but I didn’t want to risk you telling me no or worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “Yeah, like you didn’t want me in your space no more. I hurt you today. I know that.” Suddenly, Dior peered around the room as if she’d just entered it. “What’s with all these candles? You got something nice coming by?”

  “Uh-uh, I got something real nice on pause.”

  “Ooh, my bad. I didn’t even think to . . . I should just go.” Dior took two steps toward the door. Tangie stopped her.

  “Girl, stop trippin’. Cop a squat.” She motioned toward the tan leather love seat then tossed another glance at her closed bedroom door. “You look like a trainwreck about to happen and as much as I like other people’s drama, I can’t just sit and watch it go down. Yes, I was disappointed when I learned that the Richard you’d been putting in work with was Pastor Allamay. Yes, it hurt that you’d been so secretive about it too. Shoot, I’d even called myself getting mad about it but then I realized that you couldn’t tell me after I went on about married preachers being off-limits. I put you in a bad spot, making it nearly impossible to clue me in. Question is, what are you going to do about it now that the cat’s out of the bag?”

  Dior chewed on her bottom lip while remaining silent as if she’d been reminded of her rights to do so. Eventually, her lips parted slowly. Before she had the chance to address Tangie’s worries, a half-naked stranger exited the bedroom wearing a bath towel snugly wrapped around his narrow waist. Dior was amply embarrassed but not nearly enough to turn away from the gorgeous hunk of bronze muscle whose patience had apparently worn about as thin as that bath towel. With both eyes affixed, she fought hard to keep her mouth closed. Dior was pleasantly surprised but even more so by the soured expression Tangie cast on the awkward situation.

  “I know mama said she’d be right back, but it’s gonna take a bit longer than I thought,” Tangie said casually, as if that grown man was a child instead of six feet and two hundred pounds of dynamite. Dior’s eyes scaled his broad shoulders and toned thighs, then she gawked at Tangie. “Be a good boy, Derrick, and stay in the bedroom until mama is finished with grown-folks business.” When he pouted, she insisted on his obedience. “Go on now. I won’t be long. If I’m not there in five minutes, you can start without me.” As if their exchange wasn’t peculiar enough, Tangie dismissed him when he neglected to excuse himself. “Derrick, don’t make me have to tell you twice.”

  Dior’s mouth fell open when the man retuned to the bedroom as instructed. “Tangie, you got to tell me where to get one of those. He’s fine and he minds too. Give me some dap on that.”

  “Yep, every woman should have one.”

  “What’s up with the role-play? The way you talked to him was crazy.”

  “A crazy little thing called love,” she gushed. “Yeah, I met Derrick on the Internet. I cruised the Net for something different and there he was, advertising for a mother figure to help him sort out some abandonment issues. There I was looking for a man with a strong back, fully loaded and no strings attached.” She chuckled lightly as if she’d merely stumbled over a good pair of shoes on sale. “Why are you looking at me like that? Huh, what the problem is?”

  “I’m guessing there isn’t one, at least not on your end.” Dior shook her head then stood with her purse in hand. “I just need to know that you and me are still cool?”

  “Cool as a fan if you’d hurry and bounce up out of here,” she answered sheepishly. “Derrick ought to be good and worked up by now.”

  “Whew, I bet he is. Why’ont I let you get back to that.”

  “Goodbye would sound even better from the hallway.”

  Dior laughed as Tangie rushed her off then hastily slammed the door. She caught the elevator going down, wearing a subtle smile and the assurance that Tangie had already moved on from her disappointment after learning of Dior’s relationship with Dr. Pastor Richard Allamay, PhD. Dior drove home, pondering whether Nadeen could manage to get over hers.

  Twenty-six

  Elbow Grease

  At one in the morning, five full-length tour buses cruised down the interstate toward Louisiana. Richard played cards with some of the older men on the last bus, trying his hand at bid whist and spades. Phillip enjoyed the gospel music CD someone played on a portable boom box. Every so often, he took time to stand over Richard’s shoulder to heckle his skills as a gamesman. “Maybe you’d have better luck with the fellows up front rattling some bones,” Phillip chided. Richard took another look at his cards.

  “I started out up front with the domino players and I didn’t have much luck up there either,” he joked, to a load of laughter from the other players. “I’m starting to hope one of the other buses has a Go Fishing tournament I can get in.” Richard’s partner snickered at his next move.

  “With plays like that, don’t count on it, Brother Pastor. You might want to see if somebody brought a box of pickup sticks.” Richard bowed his head and laughed, just like one of the guys. Phillip took notice and smiled heartily. He’d missed that side of his best friend, easygoing and easier to fit into any situation without much jostling to speak of. Somewhere down the line, the business of spreading the Word got in the way of enjoying his calling. If there was an avenue for Richard to recapture his youthful attitude about life and make the best of the present, Phillip wanted desperately for him to find it. The past was a point in time to look back on and learn from. Tomorrow would provide fo
r itself. Richard’s marriage and the success of M.E.G.A. resided within his ability to seize the moment and make it what he needed it to be. Richard was presently concerned with the cards he’d drawn and getting kicked off another game table. It seemed, for a time at least, Richard was not only living in the now but it agreed with him.

  Sunshine peeked over the horizon as the New Orleans skyline came into view. The holy caravan eased along I-10 until morning drive-time traffic introduced it to gridlock. Many of the members stretched and yawned before lining up for the restrooms at the rear of the rented travel coaches. Nadeen, on the first bus with Mahalia and Roxanne, stared out of the window at the refurbished Superdome. She heard others whispering a similar sentiment to what she felt. “That’s where all of those poor people had to go when no one came.” A strange calm entered her heart as the entire contingency stopped talking altogether, as if a spell had come over them. Memories of bloated bodies floating down the city streets, corpses of loved ones rotting on sidewalks, and scores of babies crying in a sea of television cameras came to mind.

  Mahalia left her seat two rows back to sit with her mother. She wasn’t surprised to find Roxanne nestled in Nadeen’s arms. “It still hurts like it happened yesterday, doesn’t it, Mama?” asked Mahalia, in a subdued tone.

  “Yes, baby, yes it does. Yes it does.” As they inched closer to the downtown off-ramp Nadeen tried to turn her eyes away from the football stadium, once the toast of the town. Like a ghostly graveyard, it sat there beckoning to be gawked at and prayed over. No one could have imagined the tragedies to unfold after the levees broke and before order was restored. The magnificence of the Crescent City was tarnished, leaving millions the world over to question how the U.S. government allowed it to happen, then responded in a passive manner that rivaled its initial indifference.

  Roxanne craned her neck to look over the seat. Shades of sadness were evident everywhere her wide eyes roamed. “Mommy, what’s happening to everybody?” she mumbled quietly. “It’s like a funeral or something.”