David looked through half-opened blinds across Erika’s backyard as he tried to figure out what to do. Erika’s dim garden lights twinkled romantically. The lights reminded David of a restaurant that he and Raven had gone to in San Diego.
When Erika’s knees hit the hardwood, she got a very irritating surprise. “What’s wrong?” Erika asked. She looked up at him. “What do you expect me to do with this?”
“I don’t—I think this might not be the right time,” David said. He wished for a drink.
Erika got to her feet and pressed herself to David. She kissed him, stuck her tongue in his ear and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.” She went back down and tried to bring David to life.
So when it happened, neither Erika nor David was prepared. David was still limp, and it’s a good thing he was, because he yanked Erika’s hair so hard that she instinctively clenched her jaw.
“Ouch!” David shoved Erika and crouched down beside her. “Someone’s out there!”
“David, that’s impossible!” Erika whispered.
“Tell that to whoever’s outside with a camera! See, there it goes again.”
Erika and David watched the nonstop camera flashes as they crouched behind the sofa. “David, we’ve got to stop this guy. How am I going to deny it’s me in those pictures if he’s got a dozen shots of my house?”
David’s fantasies about white women didn’t include his turning light-skinned enough to play white knight to a damsel in distress—he wished Erika would figure out a way to stop the intruder that didn’t include him, but he couldn’t say so.
David cursed the dim garden lights. Whoever was outside could probably see inside.
“When I count to three, I want you to create a distraction, scream and throw something. I’ll run straight toward the doors. That ought to scare him off,” David said.
“One . . . two . . . three!”
Erika screamed and threw a statuette of Sam Houston toward the French doors that opened onto the patio. David scrambled from behind the sofa, and screaming like a warrior, ran directly toward the patio.
More camera flashes blinded them both, then the photographer ran off. He’d run out of film.
David freaked. “People can’t find out I’m fooling around with you! This would ruin—”
Erika stepped in front of David. “You’re not fooling anyone, David. Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for white women, so cut the me, me, me bullshit.”
Erika was lying, in a way—she’d heard plenty of rumors about David, but nothing about white women.
People knew? That bit of information stoked David’s panic. Living the fantasy wasn’t turning out the way David thought it would. Definitely not.
“I should go,” he said. He took a step and came firmly down on a piece of glass from Erika’s shattered French doors.
“Ouch!” He hopped from that piece of glass onto another one. “OUCH! Oh my God, I’m cutting my feet to shreds!”
“Then stop moving around, you idiot,” Erika said. “Let me clear you a path to the sofa.”
As Erika picked shards of glass out of David’s feet, they didn’t say much, but they shared the same thought. We’re screwed.
When Dudley printed the photos, he got so excited he could feel blood pounding in his ears. He took two of his wife’s blood pressure pills, then called Dr. Laverne.
“I have an emergency, I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
“Dudley, it’s Saturday, I don’t see patients today.”
“I’ll pay whatever you want. I’m on my way.”
A short while later Dr. Laverne flipped through the photos of David and Erika while he and Dudley talked. “I don’t understand why you had to do this,” Dr. Laverne said.
“Who said anything about having to? I’m pulling everybody’s strings because I want to. It’s fun.” Dudley sat comfortably on Dr. Laverne’s sofa as he spoke. Although Dudley had called Dr. Laverne practically beside himself with the need to talk to someone, once Dr. Laverne began looking at the pictures, Dudley stopped being his usual wound-up self. No pacing back and forth. No agitation. No grievances to air. Not today. Dudley was the original cool cucumber. And why shouldn’t he be? The world was turning, and finally, Dudley would be the lucky one.
“Maybe your intentions are good, Dudley. You want Michael to win the election, and bringing Ms. Whittier down is the only way to do that. But these photos . . . can’t you see how they could destroy your brother?”
Dudley frowned, clearly offended by Dr. Laverne’s questions. “I’ve spent my whole life helping David. That’s all I ever did: stand in the background, use my brains to help my little brother succeed. So no, Doc, don’t twist what I’m saying. I don’t give a shit about what happens to David when these pictures come out.”
Dr. Laverne hesitated when he got to a full frontal shot of David. No wonder the man was so fixated on women. That thing had to be fed.
Dr. Laverne removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. “Okay, Dudley. Let’s go over it again. Tell me why you find it necessary to destroy your brother.”
They talked for another two hours, and at the end of the session, the only thing Dr. Laverne knew for sure was that he had earned every penny, and then some. He made a mental note to raise Dudley’s hourly rate.
As Dudley prepared to leave, Dr. Laverne said, “One last question. Did your private investigator happen to follow David when he was with Raven?”
“Why, Doc?” Dudley was preoccupied with putting the photos in their correct order. He didn’t bother to look up.
“I was wondering . . . did your investigator . . . do you have any pictures of those two . . . like these?”
That made Dudley look up. He was happy to find out that Dr. Laverne was as messed up as everybody else. Dudley’s day couldn’t get any better.
“No?” Dr. Laverne said when Dudley continued to stare at him without saying anything. “That’s fine, just thought I’d ask.”
Since Genie had caught Christopher with Monica, Genie and Christopher had worked together, sometimes side by side, sometimes talking by phone a half dozen times a day, and through it all they acted like complete strangers. Professional, polite strangers, but strangers nonetheless. A person who didn’t know their history had only one clue that something was amiss between them: Christopher and Genie never looked each other in the eye.
When Genie ran out of Monica’s apartment, Christopher didn’t follow her. He didn’t call her for three days—couldn’t get up the nerve. When he finally called, his apology fell somewhere between contrite and defensive. Genie hung up on him, and from that point they never spoke of it again.
Christopher found himself driving aimlessly one afternoon and the next thing he knew he was at Genie’s doorstep. “Thought I’d stop by, see how you’ve been,” Christopher said as soon as Genie undid her deadbolt and let him in.
“You see me every day, Chris. Can’t you tell from looking at me? I’m just fine,” she replied with no trace of emotion.
Genie did look good. She never missed a beat on the outside. But on the inside she’d changed. It was her first time being hurt by a man, having her trust hurled back in her face. She couldn’t help but change after feeling that type of pain.
“Can we talk?” Christopher asked.
“Sure.”
Christopher sat, but Genie remained standing, with her arms rigidly at her sides.
“I’m sorry, Genie. I know when I apologized before, I made it sound like you pushed me to Monica. You didn’t; I made the decision to get with her on my own. I’m sorry I cheated on you, and I’m sorry I was such an asshole about it when we talked before.”
Genie sat down. “You were an asshole, and I accept your apology, at least on that part. What else?”
“I need you to forgive me because I want you back. I miss everything about you,” Christopher gave a half chuckle. “Even the stuff I used to complain about. You’re older than me, smarter than me, maybe even more ambitious than me. I co
uldn’t handle it.”
“So you ran to a woman who was less than me? Is that what you’re saying, that Monica was nothing but a way to get by whenever I bruised your ego?”
“Monica? She’s okay . . .” Christopher stammered. “I mean she’s all right, she’s not . . .”
Christopher looked at Genie. Her eyes said, Tell me the truth.
He started over. “Monica’s different from you but she’s like you, too, in a lot of ways. Smart, strong.” He looked into Genie’s eyes and watched her wince as he added, “Kind.
“She’s not as focused as you are. But no, I can’t honestly say that she’s less than you.” Monica, Christopher found out when Genie left her apartment, was more woman than he’d realized. Just like Genie had never been on the receiving end of heartbreak, Monica had never seen herself as the other woman until she looked into Genie’s eyes. Genie’s eyes were magic mirrors reflecting Genie’s hurt and Monica’s role in it.
“I can’t be a part of bringing a sister down like that,” she’d told Christopher as he gathered his things to leave.
Christopher urgently needed Genie to pay attention to his next words. “Monica’s not the one I love, and she never will be. We broke it off the same day you came by her apartment. Monica doesn’t even work in the Dallas office any more.”
He gestured with both hands. “I love you, Genie, and you’re the only woman I want.”
“I love you too, Chris, and I forgive you.”
Christopher moved toward her, but Genie put her hand up, a stop sign.
“This experience has me thinking about what I want out of life.”
“And?” Christopher felt anxiety rise in his chest. Why’d she have to go and start thinking?
“I forgive you, but that doesn’t mean I want to get back with you. You hurt me, Chris.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “And you’re right about me, I’m ambitious. I’ve got a million dreams, and I’m not ready to settle down with one man.” Seeing the look on Christopher’s face, it was now Genie’s turn to plead for him to understand her. “Chris, I meet men every day—fine men, interesting men. And not once, not once, have I so much as given out my cell phone number.” She paused, “But I’ve wanted to.”
Christopher looked shocked. How could Genie even think about another man?
“Oh, so now you’re ready to get out there, mingle with other men because of the mistake I made?” Christopher was on the defensive again. “Sounds like a recipe for HIV if you ask me.”
“Nobody’s asking you.” Genie felt the urge to spare Christopher’s feelings but she fought it. “I’m not saying I want to sleep around, but do other men catch my eye? Yes, the same way Monica caught yours. And this isn’t only about me wanting to date other men.”
Christopher threw up his hands in exasperation. “What else, then? What else do I need to do?”
“It’s not what you need to do, it’s what I need to do for myself. I’m going back to school, Chris. Starting on my master’s, next semester.” Genie looked away from Christopher and said words that hurt them both. “I’m going to move to Washington DC as soon as the election is over. I’ve been accepted at Georgetown.”
When Christopher left Genie’s apartment he had his head down and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He could barely see through the tears that brimmed in his eyes.
Now he knew what men meant when they talked about the one that got away.
After he’d talked to Dr. Laverne, Dudley had a hard time deciding whether to have another bite of his treat immediately or savor it until later in the day. The idea of waiting a few more hours so that he could serve up his news in person appealed to Dudley. That way he’d have the entire morning to imagine what might happen once he set things in motion. Dudley picked up the phone and made a lunch date.
“You won’t believe what I have to show you,” Dudley said as Raven rushed to his table and stowed her sunglasses in her bag.
“Yeah, what?” She picked up the menu and ran her finger down the selections. “This had better be good. I had to postpone my salon appointment for you.”
“Look at you, acting all bored and distracted,” Dudley said as he took the envelope from his portfolio. He pushed the envelope across the table to Raven. “Check these out, see if they pique your interest. They were taken last night.”
Raven found herself staring at David’s penis and the blurred image of a woman. When she finally looked at Dudley, the pain and bewilderment on her face sent a delicious shiver down his spine.
“It’s David,” she said. “I mean, is it David? Those look like his hands.”
“I had a feeling you’d recognize him, and I suspect it isn’t because of his hands,” Dudley said as he reached across the table and rubbed her hand. “I thought something was going on between the two of you, I could feel it.”
“He was the one with Erika?”
Dudley nodded. “Yes, my source had it all wrong.” Dudley turned the photo sideways so that he could see it. “But looking at my baby brother, I can see why he’d be mistaken for a young buck.”
“You’re sure these were taken last night?”
“Positive.” Dudley noticed that Raven had stopped at the second picture. “Go on, look at all of them.”
Raven flipped through a few more shots, then shoved the stack across the table to Dudley. She motioned for the waiter. “That Death by Chocolate on your dessert menu—please bring one for me, and bring him the crème brûlée,” she ordered.
Raven drummed her fingers on the table. “These pictures, if they were to get out, they’d hurt David as much as Erika.”
“Maybe, but what choice do we have? If you want Michael to win, David’s got to suffer the consequences.”
Raven didn’t say anything, just sat there shocked. Finally, she looked at Dudley with her stunning, icy eyes and asked, “Do you think he loves her?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. David’s been waiting his whole life for a woman like Erika—someone smart, beautiful, and powerful.”
What about me? I’m all those things, Raven wanted to scream. “There are lots of women around who fit that description. What’s so special about Erika?”
“She’s white,” Dudley said softly. He shook his head as though it pained him to speak of his brother’s foible. “David’s always had a thing for white women. You want to hear a man go on and on about white women, just buy my brother a six-pack.” Dudley laughed and feigned surprise at Raven’s surprised look. “What? Don’t tell me you didn’t know?” Dudley laughed again. “David just plays the sisters. That’s how he built New Word.”
He told me I cured him, Raven remembered. He lied to me. By now she had finished her Death by Chocolate and started on Dudley’s crème brûlée. The more she ate, the calmer she became. “So when he spends time with a black woman, say a woman like me, he’s looking for something?”
Dudley waved his hand, “Well, yeah, but let’s face it, David couldn’t take advantage of you if he tried. You guys had some sort of “You wash my back, I’ll wash yours” thing going on. Right?”
Raven sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Let’s just say we did. What would be in it for me?”
“If I had to guess?”
She nodded. “If you had to guess.”
Dudley was having such a delightful time, he had to remind himself not to overdo it. “I may be closing in on fifty, but nothing’s wrong with my eyes or my memory. When Michael snubbed you at the Juneteenth gala this summer, I saw you make a play for David to get back at him. Now you’re even more pissed off because Michael hasn’t appreciated the way you’ve tried to help him win the election. What better revenge than to screw one of his closest friends?”
“And David. What would be in it for him?”
“Money. I don’t know if you and I ever talked about it, but I’m sure you know David’s mission in life is to get the bulk of the faith-based money. Michael told him he’d have to go through you to get funding. Th
at’s why he came onto you so strong. I guess my clever brother decided to bang Michael’s woman and pick his pocket at the same time.”
Raven asked Dudley more questions, but she didn’t ask him why he would give up his own brother. Having spent most of her lifetime turning on people, she didn’t need a reason why.
Raven threw off so much heat as she paced, her bedroom should’ve burst into flames. How dare David! She thought about how she turned her back on Michael every night and all the while David was running around with Erika. They’ve both lost their minds if they think I’m taking this shit lying down.
Raven was ready to deal with them both and she wanted to get Erika first, but she couldn’t find her. She called Erika’s home and cell phones, but all she got was her voice mail. Raven wanted to leave Erika a message—oh, did she!—but catching her off guard would be better.
Raven grabbed her keys and headed to Erika’s.
Erika loaded her CD player with Bonnie Raitt and roamed around her house, searching for something to keep her mind off the pictures. Maybe the lighting wasn’t right, so they wouldn’t come out clearly. Maybe he dropped his camera in a puddle of water when he ran away. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
Erika kept wandering. She had lived in her home for ten years and she’d never so much as mopped the kitchen floor. She found where her housekeeper kept the cleaning supplies and cleaned her house from top to bottom. Erika lost herself in discovering her home. Her last job was to sweep up the glass from her broken French doors. As she swept, Erika tried to sing along with Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me” but the words making tracks in her head didn’t match what came from her mouth. All she could think of was when and where the photos would show up.
When the doorbell rang and Erika answered it, seeing that it was Raven, she put one latex-gloved hand on her hip and asked, “What are you doing here?”
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