The Devil You Know

by Mary Monroe

  “Uh-huh. Can you come over and spend the night? Since our upcoming trip is not going to be what I expected, I’d like to spend some quality time with you now. Besides, I’ve been feeling kind of sad all day.”

  “Oh? Did something happen?”

  “Not to me. Remember that newspaper article we read a while back about those three missing black women?”

  “Vaguely. Why? Do the cops have any leads yet?”

  “Not a one. It’s like those women vanished into thin air. Anyway, they were mentioned again on the TV evening news yesterday. The brother of one of the women came into the pharmacy today to get a prescription filled.”

  “How did you know who he was?”

  “I waited on him. While I was ringing him up, he identified himself. The medication he was picking up was for his severe depression. Not knowing what happened to his sister is slowly destroying his family. The mother was having such a hard time coping, she cried herself to sleep one night last month and never woke up.”

  “Hmmm. That’s a sad story, but you can’t let other people’s problems get to you. This is a crazy world and it’s going to get even crazier. If you let every tragic thing you hear about bother you, you’re going to end up needing medication yourself.”

  “You’re right, baby. Forget I brought it up.”

  “Would it make you feel any better if I spent the night?”

  “It sure would. That’s why I asked you to.”

  “All right. I’ll see you in a few.”

  I hung up and dialed Maria’s number. She didn’t answer, so I left a voice mail. “Hey, mamacita! I can’t wait to see you so I can put out that fire between your legs. I won’t get down there on the twenty-first until around five or so. Just let me know what time and where to meet you.”

  Chapter 24

  Joan

  I DIDN’T KNOW IF IT WAS JUST MY IMAGINATION OR IF REED WAS TRYING to change for the better. I was so curious and concerned about his behavior, I called his office at ten o’clock this morning to see if he wanted to have lunch with me. I wanted to monitor him more closely for the next few days so I could determine if there was something for me to worry about. After a long pause, his receptionist told me that he had called in sick two hours earlier.

  “He called in sick?” I asked. I was so taken aback, I held the telephone away from my ear and looked at it for a few seconds before I continued. “This is his wife,” I said firmly.

  “I . . . I . . . know . . . know it’s you, Mrs. Riley,” the receptionist sputtered. “Would you like to leave a message?”

  “No, I don’t want to leave a message!” I hollered. I had to pause and catch my breath. “Beverly, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” I apologized. “Reed left home this morning at his usual time and he didn’t say anything to me about being sick.”

  “Maybe he felt better after I spoke to him and he changed his mind and went someplace else,” she offered. Beverly had been with Reed longer than any of his other staff. She was so dependable and loyal, there was no doubt in my mind that she would lie to protect him.

  “Did he sound sick?”

  “Not really. But like I said, maybe he felt better after he spoke to me.”

  “Maybe he did,” I mumbled. “Can you do me a favor?”

  Beverly took her time answering. “Um . . . yeah.”

  “Don’t tell him I called.”

  “I won’t.”

  I hung up and called Lola. She didn’t answer, so I left a voice mail message. “As soon as you get a chance, call me back. Reed is acting very mysteriously.”

  She returned my call when she took her lunch break at noon. “Reed is acting mysteriously? Please don’t tell me the man is on another one of his suicide missions,” she said. She sounded even more concerned than I was.

  “I don’t know what he’s up to, but something is not right.”

  “When did you notice?”

  “I first noticed it a few weeks ago. Lately I’ve been noticing it more and more. When he left to go to his office this morning, he was in an extremely jolly mood for him.”

  “So?”

  “So, that’s out of character. Especially early in the morning. He usually leaves for work looking and acting like a pallbearer. I called his office a couple of hours ago to see if he wanted to meet me for lunch. His receptionist told me he had called in sick. What I want to know is where he went if he didn’t go to his office.”

  Lola remained silent for a few moments. “Hmmm. Have you tried to reach him on his cell phone?”

  “Yes, and my call went straight to voice mail.”

  “What about his answering service?”

  “I didn’t think to call her, and I won’t. If he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be, she wouldn’t know. I told his receptionist not to let him know I called. He’ll think I’m checking up on him, and that’s the last thing I want him to think.”

  “Joan, you are checking up on the man. And it’s about time. He’s been ‘checking up’ on you for years.”

  “This is the first time he’s ever done anything out of the ordinary,” I defended.

  “This is the first time that you know of.”

  I swallowed hard and considered Lola’s words. “Now that I think about it, he’s been doing a few other things out of character for several weeks now. Reed used to hate going to his office before nine a.m. and staying later than five p.m. He’s been doing both now, one or two days a week, for the past couple of months. He’s also been going out for drinks with people I’ve never heard of. And one night last week after we had gone to bed, I woke up around midnight and he was nowhere in sight. When he came home an hour later, he claimed he’d gone to the drugstore to get something to help him sleep. The one we usually go to is only two blocks from here. When I called him on it, he claimed he had left his wallet at his office and had to go pick it up because he didn’t have any money or credit cards on him. I didn’t give it all that much thought until today.”

  “Hmmm. I don’t want you to think I’m defending Reed, but that doesn’t sound too suspicious to me. I’ve gone out in the middle of the night to pick up something, and I’ve left my wallet at work before. You don’t have a lot to go on, but I can understand you feeling the way you do. What do you think he’s up to?”

  “Oh no!” I yelled. My heart skipped a beat, and blood rushed to my face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  I had to gulp some air before I could continue. “Right after his suicide attempt, I read several articles on the subject. One said that shortly before some people commit suicide, they go through a period of elation. They have mood swings from one extreme to the other.”

  “You mean they become bipolar or something?”

  “I don’t know if being bipolar has anything to do with it. And as far as I know, Reed is not bipolar. The article said that when a person decides to end his or her life, they might get slaphappy because they know that when they die, they will no longer be in pain. So leading up to that moment, they go around looking and acting happier than ever.”

  “And Reed’s been doing that?”

  “Yeah,” I managed in a low, nervous tone. Then I got loud. “Oh shit! Lola, I don’t want the man to die! What if he checked into a hotel today to do it? One thing he promised me after his first attempt was that if he ever does it again, he would not do it at home where his son might be the one to find him!”

  “Don’t get hysterical yet. I’m sure it’s not what you think. Have you called his parents? What about some of his friends?”

  “I haven’t called his parents. That’s the last thing I want to do. They’d drive up here in a flash, and you know I can’t stand my mother-in-law. Hold on! Somebody’s coming in the door.” I wobbled up off the couch, with my eyes on the door. I breathed a sigh of relief when Reed walked in. “It’s him. I’ll call you back.” I set the telephone on the coffee table and put my hands on my hips. “Where the hell—” I stopped talking when I saw a large bouquet of red ro
ses in his hand. “Where have you been? And what’s this about you telling your receptionist you were sick?”

  “That’s what I told Beverly to tell you,” Reed said gently as he strolled over and handed me the roses.

  “Why? And what are these roses for?”

  “I know how much you like roses, and the last time I gave you some was on Valentine’s Day.” He sighed and rubbed the side of his head. Then he put his arms around my waist. “Honey, I know I’ve been acting like a damn fool lately, and I’m sorry. With work and my parents complaining about their health every time I talk to them, I had a lot on my mind. I just needed a little time to myself, that’s all. I drove around for a while, went to the museum, and then I took a break for lunch.”

  “And you couldn’t tell me that?”

  He gently pulled me to the couch, and we sat down at the same time. I set the bouquet on the coffee table. “On top of everything else that’s bothering me, I’ve been feeling like shit ever since I told you that you were losing your shape and looks and needed to sharpen your bedroom skills.”

  “So you didn’t mean any of that?” I snarled.

  “Well . . . I . . . you used to give me some mean blow jobs!” he boomed. “Now after a few half-ass slurps, it’s all over. And you don’t move the way you used to. If you want to keep me happy, you’re going to have to work at it. You’re too young to be going through some kind of female-related issue that would cause you to lie there like a blow-up doll when we make love. So there’s got to be another reason. . . .”

  My heart dropped and my stomach turned. All kinds of outrageous thoughts began to float around in my head. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Reed how many other men I’d been with in the past few months who couldn’t stop telling me how good I was in bed! “Are you going to accuse me of cheating again?”

  “No, I know you’re not cheating on me. I just think you’re bored with me, that’s all. I know I’m no ball of fire like some of your other boyfriends probably were before we got married. And I never will be. But starting today, things are going to be different. I won’t badger you about all the time you spend away from home, and I won’t do or say anything inappropriate.”

  “Until the next time.”

  Reed shook his head. “There won’t be a next time. You can go shopping with Lola and your relatives, play nursemaid to that invalid woman, have drinks with Lola, and go to book club meetings. I think we should give each other more space and spend more time doing things with other people.”

  I gave Reed a skeptical look. “So you’ll be spending more time at the golf course and the country club with some of your colleagues and friends, right?”

  “Uh-huh. As a matter of fact, Dr. Weinstein invited me to go hiking this coming weekend. I hope you don’t mind.”

  This time I gave him a curious look. He had never shown any interest in hiking. He hated gnats, mosquitoes, and every other creature associated with the outdoors. “I don’t mind. I think Junior would like to go too.”

  “Don’t you remember? Junior wants to spend this weekend with my parents.”

  “I forgot about that. Well, with you two boogers out of my hair, I can get some chores done that I’ve been putting off.”

  “You can start by putting your flowers in a vase.” Reed stood up and glanced toward the door. “Um . . . I forgot to pick up the newspaper while I was out, so I’m going to go do that now.”

  When he left, I called Lola again. “I think Reed’s going through a midlife crisis,” I told her with a chuckle when she answered.

  “Why? And where did he go if he didn’t go to his office today?”

  When I told her everything Reed had told me, she laughed louder than I did.

  Chapter 25

  Lola

  IT HAD BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE I’D LAST TEXTED CALVIN, AND HE had not responded. He was busy, but because of the things he’d told me and the way he’d made love to me, I knew he wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. He was the man I hoped to spend forty or fifty years with, so I told myself to be patient. But it was not easy.

  It was nine p.m. Sunday, and I was in my room for the night. Whenever I had spare time, I read the blog on the club’s website to see what other members were up to. Every now and then somebody reported a bad encounter and wanted to warn the rest of us. But most of the club members liked to boast about previous or upcoming encounters. I didn’t see anything of interest to me this time. Just as I was about to click on another page, a comment from a Latina in Tijuana, Mexico, caught my attention. Her screen name was “RedHot,” and she was “into Black men,” so I got real curious. I immediately clicked on her profile so I could check out her picture. I expected to see a middle-age, plump, plain Jane who worked in a sweatshop or on a pig farm. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only was she the most beautiful female I’d ever seen, she was only twenty-one. And if that wasn’t bad enough, that heifer bragged about an upcoming date she had scheduled with RamRod. That was Calvin’s screen name! My ego suffered a massive blow.

  I could hardly contain myself, but I did. I had to. Whomever Calvin slept with was his business, not mine, and vice versa, but that wasn’t enough to keep me from getting jealous. I knew he spent time with other women. I just didn’t want to read about it. One reason was, it made me want him even more. I thought that if he read about one of my upcoming hookups, he would feel the same way. The only problem was, I didn’t have any new dates scheduled.

  I clicked on my club in-box and was pleased to see that I had received three date requests since I’d checked three hours ago. The first one was from a man in Gary, Indiana, who claimed he owned several apartment buildings. He was in his late sixties. I had never seen a man in his age group that I wanted to sleep with, but I pulled up his profile anyway. When I saw his lanky body, gray beard, and long horse face, I knew I didn’t want to spend any time with this man. The second one was a much better prospect. Jason “HappyPants” McFarland was a thirty-five-year-old banker from Charleston, South Carolina, who was in California on business. In his lengthy message, he raved about how hot I looked. He was not nearly as handsome as Calvin, but his looks were passable. And the reviews that other members had posted about him were spectacular. I Googled him anyway. He was not just a banker, he was the president of the bank he worked for. I replied right away. He responded about an hour later and included his cell phone number and the name of his hotel. I called him immediately. His deep, sexy voice and cute Southern accent gave me goose bumps, but what he said half a minute into the conversation turned me off.

  “You’re real pretty for a black woman,” he told me, speaking in a serious tone. I’d been with lots of men—black, white, and everything in between—and this was the first time one had said something so ignorant and offensive to me.

  “For a black woman?” I shot back, with my ears burning. “Can you explain what you mean by that?”

  “I sure enough will, sugar. White women are the most beautiful and desirable women on the planet. From the beginning of time, envious women of other races have tried to imitate them. Like all the sisters and Latinas running around with fake blond hair looking like clowns and whatnot. Know what I’m saying?”

  “Sure, I know exactly what you’re saying, brother,” I replied with my voice dripping with sarcasm. I rolled my eyes and shook my head so hard my brain felt as if it had shifted. “Well, if you’re a black man into white women, why in the hell are you trying to get a date with a black woman?”

  “It’s been a long time since I dated one, and my family—straight-up country folks—keep getting on me about turning my back on my race since the bank made me president. I love my family, and lately I’ve been feeling guilty about disappointing them. Eventually, I hope to meet a black woman suitable enough for me to settle down with. I want to get my folks off my back. I thought it was time to reacquaint myself with sisters and get back in the groove by going on a few dates with a woman like you.”

  “A woman like me?”
This was the second stupid thing a man had ever said to me, and all in the same conversation!

  “I think the best way for me to get back in the swing of things with black women, bedroom-wise, is to hook up with a few who specialize in such activities.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but it sounds like you’d do a lot better calling an escort service.”

  “An escort service? Pffft! I’ve never paid for sex before in my life!”

  “Then maybe you should try another sister in the club.” Silence followed for about ten seconds. “Are you still there?”

  “I’m still here. So you’re saying you don’t want to spend any time with me?”

  “That’s right,” I said gently. “Maybe if—” Before I could finish my sentence, I heard him click off.

  I was determined to arrange a date, so I responded to the only other request in my inbox that sounded remotely interesting. Lester “HotDog” Mitchum was a real estate tycoon from Columbus, Ohio. He had come to California to scope out some property for one of his clients. And, he reminded me of the model, Tyson Beckford, one of the hottest black men on the planet, in my book. I Googled Lester and was impressed with his background. He was divorced; had two sons in law school; and his family owned property in Ohio, New York, and Florida. A friend had turned him on to Discreet Encounters, and he couldn’t rave enough about all the “great fun” he had experienced so far. Despite all he had going for him, the reviews that had been posted about him were only average. I sent him a message anyway, and we set up a date for next Friday night.

  I immediately posted the information on the club’s blog. Calvin had told me that he read the comments a few times a week, so I knew he’d see it in the next day or so. I wanted him to know that I was still going strong.

  Chapter 26

  Lola

  I HAD NOT SPOKEN TO JOAN SINCE OUR CONVERSATION ABOUT REED’S mysterious behavior. We’d been playing phone tag, leaving voice mail messages and sending texts ever since then. I was anxious to see or talk to her again.