Sinful

by McGlothin, Victor

  Again, Marvin found himself speechless and nodding his agreement. Only this time he wasn’t so sure he really agreed. Chandelle’s carelessness was the cause of his troubles, he reasoned. Her thoughtlessness put him face-to-face with a killer and in the debt of another woman. As far as he was concerned, his wife was zero-for-three. In no hurry to fight it out with Chandelle, Marvin called the apartment to see if she was there. “Hello,” Dior answered, groggily. She told him that her cousin went to work, then asked a barrage of questions. “Marvin, tell me how it went down? Did those police jack you up? You know Chandelle can’t ever get no story right. Anyway, what are you doing already out of jail? Who bailed you this quick? Your boss? Was it your boss?” she asked repeatedly until he hung up the phone.

  Dior was at it again when Kim’s Escalade dropped him off at the apartment. She met him at the door with a shrewd leer. “Who’s this?” she snapped, like a jealous lover.

  “Nobody,” Marvin sighed, waving good-bye to Kim from his doorway.

  “Then why are you waving bye-bye while Nobody is pushing her twenty-inch rims down the block?”

  “Dior, I am not trying to have this conversation with you right now,” he argued, after closing the door.

  “We’ll see how much conversatin’ Chandelle is going to be about having when I tell her about Miss Nobody.”

  “Mind your own, Dior. This is married folks’ business.”

  “Yeah, I see, and it looks like Nobody has her nose stuck in it, too,” she challenged.

  Marvin pitched a look so brazenly spiteful at Dior that she cowered back on the sofa. His brow wrinkled after she slinked against the cushions. “Oh, you’re scared of me now.”

  “I don’t know Marvin,” Dior pouted. “I ain’t never seen you like this and you did just get out of the clink for smacking Chandelle.”

  “But I didn’t…!” he yelled, before calming his voice. “This whole mess has got me twisted. I’m not sure what to think of me either. Tell Chandelle that I’m getting some clothes and staying in a hotel for a few days.” Dior nodded her head slowly, confirming that she’d pass the information on. “Sorry Dior,” Marvin apologized, for frightening her.

  “I’m sorry too,” she whispered, as Marvin marched into the master bedroom and closed the door. “I didn’t get to tell you that I got a job. You said I would land on my feet and I did. I came up on some money to get my place back too.” If she did have the chance to run it down to him, Dior would have omitted the part about her new gig being illegal. She wouldn’t have received any “atta-girl” points for that, not from Marvin. He hated the idea of anyone going to jail. It was his worst nightmare, haunting him during the daytime, so he did what made sense in his head. He got a room at the Holiday Inn and fell into a very deep sleep on rented sheets far away from his misery.

  Meanwhile, Chandelle spent all morning at her desk dialing extensions at the Dallas County Courthouse. “What do you mean he’s not in the system?” Chandelle hollered. “I know he’s in the…system because I’m the one who got him arrested. What? I’m his wife. I’m calling now to get him out,” she explained bitterly. “Yeah I’ll hold. I don’t see why not, I’ve been holding all day.”

  “Chandelle, in my office now,” Grace ordered, after overhearing her phone conversation.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” she said, while ending the call that’d taken several hours to land. She was close to finding Marvin and learning the particulars of his case, she thought, if she hadn’t been discovered while doing it.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Marvin was in jail?” Grace fussed. “Ahh, why didn’t you tell me you had him arrested? Ahh, what did he do that made you call the police on him? Ahh, why did you come into work when your husband is locked up in God knows where?”

  Chandelle was afraid to speak, fearing that the company’s junior partner had another question loaded to spring on her if she did. “I…I…”

  “Speak up Chandelle, we’ve got to fix this.”

  “I’mmmm so sorry!” Chandelle whined with tears flowing effortlessly from her eyes. “I didn’t mean for anything like this to happen. I made a mistake.” Grace handed a box of tissues to Chandelle while she described how the episode began and ended with the police taking Marvin downtown to the county lockup, although she couldn’t say for certain because no one knew exactly where he was. The group in his cell had yet to go before the judge but he wasn’t on any of the afternoon or following day dockets.

  Grace had heard enough. She slipped on her comfortable flats and called her husband’s cell number. “Wallace, this is an emergency. Yes, I’m fine, Andre’s fine and the baby’s fine. We’re all fine. However, I’ve just learned that Chandelle and Marvin are not fine. No violence was involved in what they’d gotten into, but the neighbors sent the police over to see about the noise. What? No, she told them that Marvin did cause the bruise on her leg, but not intentionally. Yep, that’s when they took him.” Grace watched Chandelle knotting up into a ball of guilt. “Uh-uh, you stop feeling sorry for yourself. People make mistakes everyday. Let’s just hope this is one we can unmake. No, honey, I wasn’t talking to you. I was fussing at Chandelle. Okay, I’ll have my phone with me. We’re going there now to see about getting him out. What do you mean be nice. Of course I’ll be nice.” Chandelle recognized the tight expression on Grace’s face. It said loud and clear, “Chile, get your purse because I’m about to raise some Cain.”

  No sooner than the first county clerk had informed them that Marvin had been misplaced, Grace blew her stack. She was a whirlwind of commotion until an assistant District Attorney and a good friend of her son’s deceased biological father noticed it was her going smooth off. Geoffrey Diggs jumped in to save the clerk, invited them up to his private office, and then personally took over the investigation. After checking the usual places, the county hospital and morgue, the assistant D.A. dialed the Chief Detention Office. Diggs held for a minute while some queries were made, then hung up the phone with an uneasy look shrouding his embarrassment that soon wouldn’t be his alone. “That certainly does explain it all right. Thanks for the scoop, Charlie. Yeah, I know, I owe you.”

  “What certainly explains it, Geoffrey?” asked Grace, much quieter than she’d spoken in the last hour.

  “Ma’am, your husband has already been bailed out,” he said to Chandelle, “that’s why the clerk couldn’t find him. Looks like he made it out in record time, too.”

  “What do you mean Marvin has already been bailed out?” Chandelle growled suspiciously. “When? By who?”

  “Just before noon by the sounds of it, and by a woman, a Kimberly Hightower bonded him out.”

  Grace was lost in the fog, but Chandelle was blinded by rage.

  “What it is, Chandelle?” Grace questioned when it appeared her girlfriend was about to explode.

  Chandelle sat speechless in the chair until she grabbed hold of her emotions. “How could I have been so stupid?” she said eventually. “That realtor lady who found the house we just bought, she’s Kim Hightower. My antenna went up the first time I saw her. I’ll bet they’ve been tipping behind my back the whole time. And to think, he’s got me down here crying over him and he’s been running around sneakin’. My spirit was on to something.”

  “Maybe your intuition antenna is off a bit about Marvin. You’ve told me earlier that he hadn’t given you any reason to think he knew that woman before she signed on as your real-estate agent.”

  “That may be true. Marvin told me he knew her in high school but that she was three years ahead of him. I know I wasn’t interested in li’l boys during my senior year.”

  “See there, case closed,” Grace said, thanking Geoffrey for his hospitality and the use of his office. “Marvin had always struck me as an honest person regardless of what your intuition has to say about him.”

  Chandelle thanked the assistant DA as well; then she stared at the carpet near the door for the longest time. “Marvin flat out told me he didn’t have some other woman and my s
pirit says different. Well, somebody’s lying.”

  12

  Oh Yeah, You’re Fired!

  Chandelle dialed Marvin’s cell phone number repeatedly while racing home to have it out with him for two-timing her with Kim Hightower. Dior’s exaggerated account didn’t do her any favors either. She met Chandelle at the door with her arms folded.

  “He ain’t here, you know,” Dior said, eager to pile it on thick. “This real pretty dark-skinned chick rolled up in her Caddy SUV and brought him home. Uh-huh, she was hugging all on him, blowing kisses and everything,” she lied. “I tried to talk to Marvin, but he went off on me. Huh, I tried, but I’m not up for all this madness. Matter of fact, I got a new job that pays a little money, so I’m out of your hair. My apartment manager told me to see him about getting my place back too.” Dior watched Chandelle’s lip quiver. That excited her. “Sorry, cuz, I didn’t think it would play out like this for you. Oh yeah, Marvin said he would be chilling at a hotel for a while.” When that tidbit of news didn’t yield the reaction Dior predicted, she tried again. “Chandelle, you don’t think Marvin’s posted up at a hotel with that chick in the Escalade, do you? I mean because if he is…”

  “Shut up, Dior!” Chandelle screamed. “Didn’t you say you were leaving?” Exasperated and boiling over with fury, she thumbed through the yellow pages. Chandelle made two calls: The first one scheduling an emergency Salvation Army furniture pickup impressed Dior with its deviousness, and the next call sent Dior scrambling with her personal belongings to the car. She did not want to be around when that world of Marvin’s came crashing down. This time, Chandelle had overplayed her hand. Even Dior knew that she had gone too far.

  Chandelle hurried the movers along, offering an extra $100 if they cleared everything out by five. She had some pressing business to attend to, and it all had to go according to plan so that Marvin would feel the full extent of her bitter scorn. “Hurr’ up!” she yelled, when the workers appeared to be slacking with the bedroom furniture. “I’ve got some corners to turn and y’all are slowing me down.”

  Chandelle packed her clothes into suitcases, and once they were full she began tossing clothes and shoes into the backseat of her car. “We’ll see who’s fooling who,” she muttered, between trips in and out of what used to be their love nest. “You wanna show your tail? You’ll get to see me work mine. I can’t believe you, Marvin,” she moaned. “I know you’re mad at me, but what you’re out there doing just ain’t right.”

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” asked one of the burly movers, observing her babbling.

  Chandelle whipped her head around so fast that he recoiled backward as if he’d mistakenly walked up on a snake. “Mister, I’ve got a cheating man to deal with and a skank who’s probably body-checking him right now. What do you think?” Even though he was twice her size, the mover didn’t stick around to answer.

  “You just wait,” she repeated, as her Volvo glided toward Hightower Realty. She barged into the building looking for Kim and breathing fire with every step. “Where is she?” she yelled, going from office to office. “Where’s Kim? I know she’s here somewhere. She’d better hide.”

  The small brunette Chandelle encountered the first time they met Kim together hung up the phone when she heard someone shouting.

  “Hey, I know you,” Chandelle hissed, with her finger pointed in the woman’s face. “Where’s Kim? Tell her she’s got trouble and I want the keys to my new house. I want them now!”

  “Okay, Mrs. Hutchins, I don’t know what’s got you so upset, but I’ll get the keys for you. Ms. Hightower isn’t in. She’s out in the field.”

  “In the field? Is that some kind of code for sleeping with another woman’s man on the low-low?”

  “Uh, on the low-low? I’m sorry,” the brunette answered, with a failure to comprehend Chandelle’s streetwise insinuations.

  “Yeah, the low-low,” Chandelle reiterated. “Ask Kim to explain it to you. I’ll bet she’s got lots of practice.” She snatched two sets of keys from the distraught woman’s hands and headed for the door. “Tell your boss lady I said it ain’t over. She can have Marvin, but she’s got it with me now.”

  “Got what with you, Mrs. Hutchins? What are you talking about?”

  Chandelle gave her the same stinging glare she’d flung at the gargantuan mover. “Just tell her that I know what I know.”

  The brunette stood in the doorway as Chandelle burned rubber out of the parking lot.

  The following afternoon, Marvin exited the hotel refreshed and looking forward to getting back to his life. Dressed for his Tuesday shift, he tried to hash out everything that happened to him over the past two days, but it all ran together with each attempt. When Marvin entered Appliance World, an hour late, Lem, greeted him at the door.

  “Marvin, what are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s messed up what happened to you.” Before Marvin had the chance to discuss how the associate learned of his brief incarceration, another surprise hopped out of the box.

  “What’s up, convict?” Dooney joked gleefully. He was gleaming with a handful of DVDs that Marvin knew would quickly be dubbed and hawked in the back of the barber shop for ten dollars a pop.

  “Not now, Dooney, I’ve got business,” he answered dismissively. “Let me see the man first and I’ll holler at you in a minute.”

  “Cool, I’ll be right here handling my own with Reeka.”

  Marvin dreaded the conversation whereby he’d have to explain himself, not as the wife beater, but rather as a man trapped beneath a heap of circumstances. “Mr. Mercer, I’m innocent and I’m sorry for not calling in late,” he rehearsed quietly. “I don’t know why I’m getting all worked up. I’m practically running this store, anyway. Yeah, it’ll be cool. I’ll tell him what happened and that’ll be that, just like nothing ever happened.”

  Marvin tapped on the door before entering. “Hey, Mr. Mercer, you got a second?” he asked, uncomfortable about putting his business on the table to be dissected by an unscrupulous owner with a sex addiction.

  “Have a seat, Marvin,” the owner offered reluctantly. “How are you making out?” The way Mr. Mercer phrased his salutation told Marvin he had already caught wind of his arrest somehow.

  “It’s all a misunderstanding, but I’ll be all right. Look, I know I missed the sales meeting, but I can explain all that.”

  Mercer leaned back in his chair and eyed Marvin peculiarly. “No need for any explanations,” he sighed.

  “Good, then I’ll clock in and hit the floor.”

  “No, not that fast. We’ve got to set good examples for the other employees. I’m gonna have to fire you.”

  Marvin’s eyes grew wide. His chest swelled. “You’re letting me go?” he wailed loudly. “For what, because I missed a sales meeting and came in an hour late?”

  “No, Marvin. I’m terminating you over the incident that caused your arrest.”

  “Incident, what incident?” he asked.

  “See, you signed a morality clause on the back of your application. We can’t let your arrest go that easy. Now, if it was up to me, I’d let it slide pending the outcome of the trial, but my wife holds fifty-one percent of the company and she ain’t having it. Spousal abuse is a serious offense. I should know, had a little issue back in the day myself. I don’t want to can my best salesman, but you know, my wife heard about you getting pinched for knocking some sense into yours. While it’s none of my business, I have to do it.”

  “You’re right it isn’t any of your business, just like who you’re screwing in the warehouse, kicking it with after closing hours, or the fact that three of your former cashiers got babies who look exactly like you, isn’t any of mine,” Marvin smarted back.

  “Hey, keep it down. Now you’re getting personal.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Mr. Mercer, it don’t get no more personal than not being able to pay the bills.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, and that’s why I’ve added a special lawyer’s appro
priations bonus to your last paycheck.” The stumpy little man slid a white envelope across the desk. “I was shocked when Chandelle called and told me you probably wouldn’t be in today because of all the drama.”

  “Chandelle, she’s the one who told you?” Marvin asked, almost as surprised as he was wounded. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.” He stood up from the chair, folded the envelope, and then stuffed it into his pocket. “I understand, Mr. Mercer. We all have to do what we gotta do, huh?”

  “I’m afraid so, Marvin. Sorry.”

  All traces of hope that accompanied Marvin when he trekked through the corridor to Mr. Mercer’s office had all but vanished into thin air. He found it difficult when Dooney took time off from macking on Reeka to accost him near the front registers.

  “Convict, Chandelle called and told me you did the fool and got yoked up by Starsky and Hutch.”

  Reeka smirked at him. “You should talk. When’d they let you out?” she asked Dooney. Marvin would have laughed on any other day but that was impossible at the moment.

  “What I want to know is when are you gonna let me in?” Dooney fired at her, with a cocky grin. He’d been imagining how she looked without the khakis and blue pullover, how she looked in nothing at all.

  “Tell you what,” Reeka said, swinging her hips from right to left with a gang of attitude. “Come over to the house and holla at me, the day after never.”

  “Never?” Dooney’s confident grin faded briefly before returning with more exuberance than before. “Girl, quit playin’.”

  “Who’s playing?” Reeka snapped harshly.

  “Yeah, it’s a game, you acting all stuck-up,” Dooney concluded. He saddled her with a thorough once over, licking his lips in the process. “You got to be stuntin’. Ain’t no sistah from the west side ever been that saditty.”