Deadly Satisfaction

by Trice Hickman

  He looked away from her and closed his eyes.

  “Listen, Phillip, I know you don’t want to hold a conversation with me, and that’s fine. But I’m trying to help you, so you need to tell me how you’re feeling so I’ll know what to give you. Now, I’m going to ask you again, how do you feel?”

  “Not so good.” He rubbed his sleeve against the mucus that had started to run from his nose after he’d sneezed.

  Donetta peeled out from under her thin quilt and stood to her feet. She turned around and walked to the kitchen, and Phillip couldn’t help but notice the perfect curve of her hips, the roundness of her behind, and the sexy way her small waist brought attention to her slender frame. Everything about her stimulated his senses, even in his sickly state.

  Donetta returned with a fresh cup of orange juice and a box of Kleenex. “I put some water in the kettle for your tea,” she said as she handed him the box of tissues. She picked up the thermometer. “You know the drill.”

  Phillip blew his nose and then opened his mouth. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he held the thermometer under his tongue. She was looking out the window, and he could see that a smile had begun to form on her face. He turned toward the window to see what was holding her attention, and he saw that the sun was beginning to rise. They sat in silence, watching one of nature’s most beautiful gifts. He was a person who was always on the go, living in the city, always navigating at a fast pace. This was the first time he’d ever watched the sun rise, and it was nothing less than amazing. The thermometer beeped, but neither of them moved. They remained still, appreciating the moment.

  “This is how you know there’s a God,” Donetta said softly. “Only He can create something so beautiful.”

  Phillip heard sadness in her voice, and he knew it was because of the turn that their relationship had taken. He knew she wanted him to talk to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to engage her because he didn’t know what to say, and he felt drained from fever and body aches. Donetta looked at him and removed the thermometer from his mouth.

  “You’re down one degree, to a hundred and two,” Donetta said. “That’s still high, but not as bad as last night.” She handed him the glass of orange juice and he took it willingly, followed by a capful of NyQuil. And just as she’d done last night, she rose when she heard the kettle whistle, and she returned with a hot cup of tea. This time he sipped it on his own as she sat and watched him. The last thing he remembered was a slight smile on her face before he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  Phillip awoke from the worst nightmare he’d ever had, and his chest heaved up and down as he thought about the chilling details. He and Donetta had been sitting in front of the fireplace sharing a passionate kiss, wrapped in a warm embrace. He’d held her so tightly that he could feel the pull in his biceps. Then he released her slowly, looked into her eyes, and smiled. “I love you, Donetta,” he had said. She’d repeated the same back to him, and then, without warning, he quickly wrapped his large hands around her throat. He pressed his fingers at the base of her larynx with so much force she could barely gasp. He watched the light leave her eyes and the life drain from her body until she became limp with death. He released her neck, she fell to the floor, and he awoke in a terrified sweat.

  Phillip could only attribute his dream to his high fever, and the intense conversation he’d had with Donetta last night when she revealed that she’d been physically assaulted. Phillip knew there was no way he could ever harm Donetta, because even though he’d been angry with her last night, he’d been even angrier at the thought that she’d been hurt at the hands of men. His nightmare had been awful, but it was a dream. He knew that Donetta’s nightmare had happened when she’d been awake, and it was reality. The thought made him sick inside, and he wished he could dream a happy ending to everything that had happened since last night.

  Phillip’s mouth felt so dry that his throat hurt. He blinked his eyes slowly and looked around the room to find Donetta sitting on her couch, wrapped in her quilt, reading a book. She immediately put her book down when she heard him stir.

  “You’re awake,” she said. “You’ve been asleep for the past six hours.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d been asleep that long because it felt as though he’d just closed his eyes a few minutes ago. He reached for a tissue, blew his nose, and then sneezed. Like clockwork, Donetta descended upon him again with juice, a thermometer, and this time a bowl of chicken noodle soup. “Good news,” she said. “Your fever is down to one hundred.” She wiped the thermometer with alcohol and handed him the bowl of soup. He didn’t have an appetite, but she told him that if he didn’t eat it she was going to shove it down his throat. He shook his head at her pure grit, which was something he actually admired.

  “It’s Thanksgiving Day, and I know your mom would love to hear from you.” She handed him her phone and then walked to her bedroom.

  Phillip dialed his mother’s cell phone, and she picked up on the first ring.

  “Phillip, is this you?”

  He sat up and cleared his throat. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.” His voice surprised even him, so he knew his mother was going to be alarmed.

  “You sound awful,” his mother said. “Do you have a cold?”

  “Yeah,” he said through extreme congestion. “I guess I caught it out there in the snow.”

  “Awww, baby, I’m sorry. Are you running a fever?”

  “Yeah, it’s one hundred.”

  “Oh no.”

  “That’s actually pretty good, because last night it was a hundred and three.” He looked over at the fire and could see that Donetta had placed more logs inside. She’d also left a pack of Ritz Crackers and a bag of cough drops next to him. Even while he’d been sleeping, she’d been taking care of him.

  “I guess that’s good news,” his mother said. “What kind of medicine are you taking?”

  “NyQuil and lots of juice, tea, and cough drops.”

  “Make sure you put some honey and lemon in your tea. That will help.”

  “She did.”

  He could hear the pause in his mother’s voice. “So . . . she’s taking care of you?”

  “Yes, she is.” He wanted to change the subject before his mother asked too many questions. “How are you and Lauren?”

  “We’re great,” she said. “I couldn’t make the Thanksgiving feast that I’d wanted to because of the power outage, but Lauren and I made turkey sandwiches from the deli meat I had in the fridge, along with the chips you bought the other night, and it tasted like a gourmet meal.”

  Phillip was glad to hear that his mother sounded like her old self. “That sounds good.”

  “Have you felt up to eating anything?”

  He blew his nose. “Yes, I ate a bowl of chicken noodle soup.”

  “When you were a little boy, every time you got sick I’d fix you chicken noodle soup and you’d feel so much better.”

  He blew his nose again. “Even though I sound bad, I actually feel better, so I guess the chicken noodle soup is still doing the job after all these years.”

  “Yes, it sure is, son. Is the electricity still on where you are?”

  Phillip looked around the house. The bright sun that had beamed in the sky this morning was now gone, and it was overcast and dark again. Donetta had lit two pillar candles that were sitting on the coffee table, and combined with the fire, they gave the room a warm glow. “No, we lost power late last night. But she has a wood-burning fireplace like yours, so we’ve been warm. And, Mom, this woman has more candles than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

  “More than me?”

  “Believe it or not, she does. And they’re in different scents, too.”

  “I absolutely love scented candles.”

  “Well, you’d have a field day over here.” What the hell am I doing?! Phillip had to catch himself. He was talking about Donetta with the same excitement in his voice that he’d had before last night, and he had to remind himself that there
was a world of difference between then and now.

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” his mother said enthusiastically.

  Phillip quickly changed the subject again. “When do you think the snowplows will start coming through the neighborhoods?”

  “It’ll be a while.”

  “How long is ‘a while’?” Phillip knew he couldn’t stay at Donetta’s much longer. He needed to get out of her house so he could think and regroup.

  “At least another day, maybe even two. City services are shut down for the holidays, and the few snowplows we have are only in operation for emergency situations. I had a city council conference call meeting this morning, and my colleagues and I agreed that the situation is so bad we’re going to have to overspend our budget getting additional plows into the city, simply because of the sheer volume of snow we received.”

  Phillip stood up and walked over to the window. Even though it was overcast the snow was so bright it was blinding, and as he looked up and down the street, there were no signs that anyone had ventured outside their houses. “I guess you’re right. My flight leaves out Sunday morning, so hopefully I’ll be able to make it.”

  “I hope so. If not, it sounds like you’re in good hands where you are, and that makes me feel so much better.” Happiness filled her voice. “Lauren and I are safe and warm, and even though you’re battling a cold, you’re being nursed back to health by someone who obviously cares for you. Son, I haven’t met this young woman, but I can tell she’s special by the sound in your voice. When you find someone who makes you feel good, and who will stand by your side and take care of you, that’s a blessing.”

  Phillip thought about what his mother had just said and he had to agree. “Yes, it is.”

  He and his mother talked a few minutes longer before she handed the phone to Lauren, who wished him a happy Thanksgiving and then proceeded to tease him about catching a cold from walking through a snowstorm in order to see a woman. Even though she’d given him a hard time, she’d said she was glad that he was happy. After he hung up the phone he felt tired, just from talking.

  Phillip returned to his warm blanket by the fire. Donetta was still in her bedroom, giving him the privacy he needed for his phone call, which he appreciated. But an hour later she hadn’t yet come back into the room, and as he lay by the warm fire in the stillness of her cozy living room, he realized that he missed her.

  Chapter 31

  DONETTA

  Donetta was a light sleeper, so when she heard the knock on her bedroom door she rubbed her eyes and blinked. The room was completely dark, save for the moonlight peeping in through the blinds she’d left open at her window. She was lying in her bed, curled into a tight ball under four bedsheets, two robes, thick socks, a pair of gloves, and a fur-lined toboggan atop her head. And even though she was cocooned under several layers of coverings and clothing, she was still cold. She’d left the warmth of the cozy fire in the living room and had gone to her bedroom so Phillip could freely talk to his mother.

  There was another hard set of knocks, followed by the strained sound of Phillip’s voice. “Donetta, are you awake?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  Phillip slowly walked into the room holding a candle to light his way. He was still dressed in the navy lounge pants and long-sleeved gray T-shirt he’d been wearing since last night. He stood at the edge of her bed and stared at her.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “You’ve been back here a long time so I came to check on you.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “What?” She sat up and squinted. Donetta hadn’t slept a wink last night because she’d been worried about Phillip’s health and heartbroken over the way things had turned out between them. When she’d finally lain down earlier today, sleep had welcomed her. But now it was nighttime again, it was freezing, and her stomach had just begun to growl. Even though she was cold and hungry, she wanted to know how Phillip was feeling. He still sounded congested, but he looked as if he was beginning to rebound. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “I’m better, but I’m afraid you’re going to get sick like I did if you stay back here.”

  She’d been expecting Phillip to answer her in the same angry, uncaring tone he’d been using since last night. But to her surprise his response was actually polite and thoughtful, and it surprised her to the point that she didn’t know what to say.

  “Let’s go back to the living room where it’s warm,” he said in a gentle tone. He extended his arm for her to walk in front of him as he escorted her out of the room.

  Donetta wondered if his fever had risen so high that he was having some kind of brain malfunction. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked as they walked out to the living room.

  “Yes, like I said, I’m much better . . . thanks to you.”

  Now Donetta knew there was definitely something wrong with Phillip. Although it was apparent that he was physically better, as was evidenced by the strength of his movements and the healthy hue that had returned to his caramel-colored skin, his mental health was now in question. He’d changed from salt to sugar in the course of an afternoon. Donetta remembered her grandmother used to say that if a man had an abrupt change in attitude, it was because he had something up his sleeve. “Do you still have a fever?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it’s still one hundred, but that’s no biggie. I took more medicine a few hours ago, and that’s helped a lot.”

  When they reached the living room Phillip led Donetta over to the fireplace. He picked up the heavy blanket he’d been lying under and draped it around Donetta’s shoulders. He looked at her and smiled. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  Donetta stood still, frozen with panic. Oh Lord, he’s gonna try to kill me! she thought. She’d heard about situations like this, where a spouse or disgruntled lover played nice, all the while plotting to kill their mate. Before she’d gone to sleep, Phillip’s attitude had been as tart as vinegar, and now he was cotton-candy sweet, all in the matter of one afternoon. She didn’t trust his sudden kindness, and she knew she needed to protect herself. She walked over to the couch and sat on the cushion underneath which she kept her pistol hidden. Just then, Phillip came back into the room carrying two plates.

  “Why’re you sitting over there?” he asked.

  She cleared her throat. “The couch is more comfortable than the floor.”

  “But it’s warmer by the fire.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” she said with a definite edge in her voice.

  He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead he remained silent. He took a seat next to her and held the two plates in his lap. “I made us sandwiches,” he said with a smile. “And this is actually what my mom and sister had for lunch and dinner tonight.”

  “You talked to your mother again?” she asked.

  “Yes, I did.”

  Now Donetta was really worried, and she was sure that whatever he and his mother had talked about had everything to do with his sudden change of heart. Charlene Harris was a lawyer by vocation and a politician by way of natural charisma. She was a woman who knew the ins and outs of the law, and she sat on powerful boards and committees that made the city run. Donetta’s mind raced as she thought about what Phillip and his mother could be up to, and then it came to her. They could be setting up a murder scene to make it look as though Phillip was defending himself against a trans woman who tried to attack him after being rejected. Donetta remembered how the calm, kindhearted councilwoman had beaten her ex-husband with a baseball bat a couple of years ago, giving him injuries so serious he’d had to go to the hospital.

  Lord, please help me, Donetta prayed silently. She nearly jumped when she heard Phillip’s voice, breaking her thoughts.

  “I know you said you don’t like mayo, so I only put mustard on yours.”

  Donetta looked at the sandwich as if he’d just served her poison between two slices of bread. �
�I’m not hungry.”

  “I heard your stomach growl when we were in your bedroom.”

  She rolled her eyes and then glared at him. “I’m not eating that sandwich.”

  “Donetta, are you all right?”

  “Are you?”

  She saw a look on Phillip’s face that resembled hurt, but she knew it had to be part of his act. She’d fought men who were more streetwise and definitely meaner than Phillip in her day, so she wasn’t about to let his gentle mood and fake charm fool her. She was at a physical disadvantage against his size and strength, but she hadn’t met a man alive who could outfight a bullet. She hated that it had come to this, but she scooted to the edge of the couch so she could easily retrieve the gun if she had to.

  Phillip placed the two plates on the coffee table and cleared his throat. “I don’t blame you for being angry, because I was angry, too.”

  “I’m not angry, I’m cautious.”

  He stared into her eyes, and she could see that he knew exactly what she meant. The hurt look that had come across his face a few minutes ago returned, and from where she sat it appeared genuine. Donetta was emotional, nervous, and confused about what was happening. At this point all she could do was trust that God would see her through whatever was about to happen next.

  “Donetta, I hope you don’t think I would try to hurt you,” Phillip said.

  “Right now I don’t know what to think. Before I went to sleep you were avoiding all eye contact with me, as if you were going to turn into stone if you looked my way. You barely said a word when I talked to you, and when you did decide to speak, you were short and harsh. But now you’re staring into my eyes, making nice, and fixing me food that God only knows what you put in it. So, hell yeah, I’m afraid that you might hurt me . . . you wouldn’t be the first.”

  “I would never lay a hand on you.”

  “And you want me to just take your word for it?”

  He let out a deep sigh. “Yes, because right now that’s all I have.”

  He sounded sincere, with his gentle tone and kind eyes, but Donetta still wasn’t fully convinced. The mental stress of trying to figure out Phillip’s angle was beginning to wear on her, and the fact that she hadn’t eaten since last night had begun to make her feel light-headed. She was tired and she didn’t want to be held hostage by her fears. She knew she needed to get everything out in the open and play her hand as it was dealt. She faced him and stared into his eyes.