Secret Indiscretions

by Trice Hickman

  “And I’m ready to take it.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got your mind made up.”

  Bernard laughed. “Man, I still haven’t heard congratulations from your ass. You ain’t hatin’, are you?”

  “No. I’m not hatin’ the fact that you’re happy, I just think you’re rushing in. You’re my boy, and I don’t want to see you make a mistake.” Johnny’s words were only half true. It was a fact that he loved Bernard like the brother he’d never had, and that he wanted to make sure his friend was making the right decision for the right reasons. But it was also a fact that he didn’t care for Candace, which was a big part of why he wasn’t thrilled about Bernard’s news.

  Johnny didn’t like that Bernard had changed so much since becoming involved with Candace—and not in a good way. From the day Bernard had met the woman, Candace had transformed him from the fun-loving, party-going player whom Johnny had always known into a dull, sit at home, hen-pecked shell of a man that Johnny now barely recognized. He could remember a time, not too long ago, when Bernard used to run the streets with him, hang out all times of the night with him, chase women with him, and was down for any kind of mischief they could get into. But Candace swooped in and changed all that.

  These days it seemed all Bernard wanted to do was make himself available at Candace’s beck and call. If he went out for a night of dancing and fun, it was with Candace. If he went to the movies or even a sporting event, Candace was there. If he went to a restaurant, she was sure to be sitting by his side. Everything he did revolved around that woman, and in Johnny’s experience, it wasn’t healthy to make your woman your world. One woman could consume a man and that’s why Johnny preferred to spread himself around, between several.

  “Why can’t you just be happy for me?” Bernard said. “Everybody else is encouraging and positive about my relationship with Candace except you. What’s up with that? You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

  Johnny had to brace himself to keep from falling out of his chair after hearing Bernard’s remark. He thought it was a damn shame that his friend had turned as soft as a piece of cotton, sounding like a whining little girl—all over a woman. He didn’t have time for Bernard’s drama because he had drama of his own, which drew his mind back to the reason he’d called Bernard in the first place. He wanted advice about how to handle the situation with Vivana.

  Even though Bernard had lost the ability to make good decisions in his own life, Johnny knew that when it came to advising others about their problems, his friend was always spot on. And right now, Johnny was desperate and he needed help. So he put his feelings aside about the fact that he thought Bernard was making a huge mistake, and sweetened up so his friend could help him.

  “I’m happy for you, man,” Johnny said, lying through his teeth. Although what he’d just said was a lie, his next statement was heartfelt and true. “I just care about what happens to you, and I want what’s best for you.”

  “Candace is what’s best for me.”

  “Okay, well . . . congratulations.”

  “That sounds about as sincere as a damn three-dollar bill.”

  Cotton ball! Johnny thought. This time he mustered the strength to sound genuine. “Bernard, if you’re happy, I’m happy for you. And that’s the truth.”

  Bernard paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Thanks, man.”

  “I got you.”

  “So does that mean you’ll be my best man at the wedding?”

  Johnny fought the urge to cuss, and was proud of himself when he managed to pour out a “yes” while sounding scarily convincing. He wanted to applaud himself for being such a good liar, but he had to focus because it was time to get down to business. “While you’re planning a walk down the aisle, I’m planning an escape route.”

  Bernard coughed. “You’re gonna ask Geneva for a divorce?”

  “Hell, no! I have no intentions of leaving my wife. I’m talking about Vivana.” Johnny proceeded to tell Bernard about what went down an hour ago, but he was sure to leave out the fact that the woman he was with was none other than Councilwoman Charlene Harris. He knew that Bernard would hit the roof and never let him hear the end of it for pulling a respected member of society into his drama.

  “Damn, that’s some wild shit,” Bernard said. “But I’m not surprised. I knew she was trouble. Fuck that plan about easing out of this slowly, you gotta cut this shit off now. That woman is dangerous.”

  “Who you tellin’? When she walked up and cold-cocked me, and then jumped on ol’ girl, I knew she was crazy for real. I’ve been jammed up in some sticky situations in the past, but that was when I was young, in my twenties. I’m too old for this shit now. Grown women fighting and carrying on . . .” Johnny poured more Hennessey into his glass as he spoke. “You’re exactly right, I need to cut this off now.”

  “Before someone ends up six feet under.”

  “I need a plan because I’ve seen what happens when I cut her off cold turkey. The next thing I know she’ll be popping up at my house, and I can’t have that.”

  “No, you can’t,” Bernard agreed. “And your first line of defense is to defuse and then dismantle.”

  Johnny perked up, ready to listen to what his friend had to say. Despite what Bernard had said about Candace being the reason behind his promotion, Johnny knew that Bernard had earned that promotion because of his good judgment and strategic thinking, and it was that thinking that was going to help him develop a plan.

  “You don’t need to piss her off any more than she already is right now because she’s holding most of the cards. So even if you don’t want to see her crazy ass, you need to fake it—until you can quickly remove her from your life.”

  “I’m already on it,” Johnny responded. “As soon as I realized how truly crazy she is, I pulled back from break-up talk because I knew that would only send her completely over the edge. I even told her that I’d see her tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah. After she showed me what she’s capable of, I didn’t want to chance what she might do next. So when she asked if I’d meet her tonight, I told her I would.”

  “Okay, good point and good move.”

  Johnny rubbed his swollen jaw. “But when I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t go. Maybe I should play up my injuries like they’re more serious than they really are.”

  “I thought you only had a swollen jaw.”

  “I do, but she doesn’t have to know that. As far as she’s concerned I have a broken jaw and whiplash.”

  Bernard laughed as though someone had told a joke. “Man, are you sure you didn’t hit your head on the floor, ’cause you’re talkin’ like you got brain damage.”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “I know it’s not. This is some serious shit and you’re talking crazy.”

  Johnny breathed hard. “Listen, it’s the perfect way to ease out of this situation and make her feel so bad and guilty about hurting me that she’s too ashamed to even dial my number.”

  “A woman who will stake you out like a detective, and then whup ass like a prize fighter, all in broad open daylight, has no shame. That plan’s not gonna work.”

  “I guess you have a point.”

  “And, I have a news flash for you. If your jaw had been broken you wouldn’t have been able to move your mouth well enough to have a conversation with her. I’m not even gonna address the whiplash.”

  “I can’t see her tonight. I just can’t do it.”

  Bernard paused and then sighed. “Now that I think about it, you’re right. You shouldn’t do it. But I do know what you should do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Come clean with Geneva. Tell her everything, and pray to God that she’ll forgive you.”

  Other than announcing his engagement, Johnny thought what Bernard had just said was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard in a long time. But instead of giving voice to that thought, he kept his opinion to himself and carefully guarded hi
s words. “That’s not gonna happen. Give me another choice.”

  “Wait a minute, hold up. Just give it a thought.”

  “I’m not even gonna entertain it. I have no intention of ever telling Geneva.”

  “Then take it from me, if you want to keep your wife, you need to stop fuckin’ around with all these side chicks who can’t hold a candle to a good woman like Geneva. You need to come clean with her, beg like hell for her forgiveness, and then go to couples counseling if you have to.”

  Johnny wished he had more Hennessey in his bottle because if he did, he’d pour himself another glass. “I can’t believe you, man. What you’re talkin’ is crazy.”

  “No crazier than what you’re doin’. Trust me, you can’t keep this up. You’re already coming to the end of your rope, and today was a sign of that. I’ve been down the road you’re traveling and I’m telling you now, get off because it’s only going to lead you to a dead end.”

  “Telling Geneva that I’ve been fucking another woman is like offering my head up on a platter. She’ll never forgive me.”

  “The type of woman she is . . . she will, if you come to her in honesty. But I can guarantee you she won’t forgive you if she actually catches you.”

  “I’m not gonna get caught.”

  “How’re you gonna explain the golf ball you said you have on the side of your face?”

  “I’ll think of something,” Johnny said as he shook his head and rubbed his jaw. He sighed and let a moment pass before he spoke again. “I’m not going to tell Geneva.”

  “All right, suit yourself. Since you’re determined to do this, here’s my advice.”

  Finally, Johnny thought.

  “Go to the hotel and meet Vivana like you said you would. You don’t have to stay long, and you can use your jaw and headache as an excuse. When she sees that despite your physical pain, you still came out to see her, that might put her in a better state of mind so that you can reason with her.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “After you get her nice and calm, lay a guilt trip on her so that she’s eating out the palm of your hand. That’ll give you a day or two to start investigating her. You need to have something you can use as leverage to back her off of you.”

  Johnny nodded. “You’re right, but damn, I’m so busy I barely have time to breathe, let alone spend time investigating her.”

  “I’ll put in a word with a guy I know who works in fraud prevention here at the college. He’s a whiz at identity investigations. It might take a few days, but if you can give me some basic background on her, I’m sure he can dig up enough information to find something that you can use against her that might back her off. She may not care if her husband finds out, but if there’s one thing that life’s taught me it’s that everybody has something to hide and something to lose.”

  Bernard had said some questionable things during their conversation, but Johnny was thankful that his friend had come through in the end. After they agreed to meet for drinks tomorrow night, they hung up the phone.

  As much as Johnny didn’t want to admit it, he knew that things with crazy Vivana were going to get worse before they got better. She was proving to be too unstable, and he knew that an unstable woman was like a tropical storm: she’d pick up speed before she hit landfall.

  Chapter 13

  GENEVA

  After signing in and securing her visitor’s badge, Geneva followed Mrs. Johnston, the school secretary whom she’d met last week, down a long hallway that led to the classroom where she’d be volunteering this morning. The smell of crayons and glue, mingled with the slightly pungent aroma of floor cleaner, made Geneva think of her own school days, which brought a smile to her face as she peeked into the classrooms they passed on their way. She was excited and anxious, and she half expected, and hoped, she’d run into Samuel Owens before she left today.

  “You’ve been assigned to Ms. Redmond’s class,” Mrs. Johnston said. “You’ll love her. She’s one of our best first grade teachers. Very kind, patient, and smart as a whip. Plus, she knows how to handle the parents just as well as she does her classroom.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful teacher.”

  “Yes, she is. You two are going to get along very well, and if I’m not mistaken, you’re about the same age.” Mrs. Johnston quickly glanced at Geneva. “You’re in your twenties, right?”

  “That’s the best compliment I’ve received in a while, and I’ll gladly take it. But I’m thirty-four.”

  “Honey, you look great.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  They turned the corner and stopped just outside a classroom filled with the sound of tiny voices erupting in laughter. Geneva smiled when she heard the exuberant giggles of children having fun.

  “Here we are,” Mrs. Johnston said as they entered the room.

  In the short time that Mrs. Johnston had spoken about Ms. Redmond, Geneva had formed an image of the teacher in her mind. But as she looked straight ahead, the person she’d visualized in her mind didn’t match up to the woman she saw standing in front of the classroom. Mrs. Johnston had said that Ms. Redmond was Geneva’s age, which she’d thought was early twenties, however, Geneva could swear the matronly looking teacher was in her mid-forties.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ms. Redmond said with a warm smile. “I’m Stella Redmond, and you must be Ms. Mayfield.”

  “Yes, I am. It’s good to meet you,” Geneva said, returning the woman’s smile.

  A student came up and tugged on Ms. Redmond’s blue polyester pants.

  “Ms. Redmond,” the cute pigtail-wearing little girl said, then pointed her tiny index finger toward Geneva. “Is she gonna read to us?”

  “Yes, Hillary,” Ms. Redmond answered. “Ms. Mayfield is the nice lady I told you about who’s going to read to the class today, and we’ll start in just a little while.”

  “Yea!” the chubby cheeked little girl squealed before running back to her seat.

  “As you can see, they’re ready for you,” Ms. Redmond said cheerfully. “You’re going to be great with these kids. I can tell.”

  “Thanks, I hope you’re right.”

  “Is this your first time working with children?”

  Geneva nodded. “Yes, does it already show?”

  “Not at all. I only guessed because you have that fresh, excited, I-want-to-make-sure-I-do-a-good-job kind of look in your eyes.” Ms. Redmond leaned forward and whispered, “Give it a month and you’ll have that I-need-a-stiff-drink kind of look all over your face,” she teased.

  Mrs. Johnston shook her head. “I’m leaving on that one.” She winked at Geneva. “Have fun, and don’t forget to check out at the office before you leave.” And with that, she was gone.

  Geneva was glad that Ms. Redmond had put her at ease, but she hoped the woman’s joke wasn’t a glimpse of what was to come. After giving Geneva a quick tour of the classroom, Ms. Redmond gathered all the children to the reading section in the back of the room. Geneva’s heart raced with anticipation as she walked toward the reading seat, which was an old rocking chair that Ms. Redmond had painted white and filled with soft, green cushions for comfort.

  “Class, say hello to Ms. Mayfield,” Ms. Redmond said in a voice enveloped with genuine enthusiasm. “She’s going to read a story to you and after she’s finished, you’ll have time to discuss it and ask questions.”

  Geneva felt a mixture of happiness and regret as she looked at the smiling, adorable faces of the eager six-year-olds gathered in the small space. She was happy to have the opportunity to do something meaningful, and hopefully make a small difference in the lives of the children. But she also felt the weight of regret tug at her heart for the absence of a child she could call her own. She knew she couldn’t dwell on negative thoughts. She had to appreciate and be thankful for the moment she was in, mindful to make the most of it.

  Slowly, she opened the pages of the book she’d selected, titled Betty the Butt
erfly, and began to read. Geneva amazed herself as she heard each word flow from her lips. She was more involved in this simple children’s book than she was the juicy novel she was currently reading. She allowed the inflections in her voice to rise and fall with each step of Betty’s amazing journey, from starting life as a tiny egg, to hatching into a fuzzy little caterpillar, to shedding her skin and cocooning herself so she could grow, and then finally emerging as a beautiful butterfly whose expansively strong wings and vibrant colors were a sight to behold.

  A half hour later, after laughs, questions, and interesting comments from the precociously smart children, Geneva found herself not wanting to say goodbye to the classroom of first graders who’d just stolen her heart. Several of them asked when was she coming back. All Geneva could do was smile because she was already looking forward to seeing them again next week.

  After hugging several of the children goodbye, Geneva followed Ms. Redmond down the hallway and back to the front office while her teacher’s assistant settled the children down.

  “You did a great job,” Ms. Redmond said. “You’re a natural with the children. They loved you, Ms. Mayfield.”

  Geneva smiled. “Please, call me Geneva.”

  “Okay, but only outside the classroom,” she said. “And Geneva, you must call me Stella.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  The two women chatted for the length of the short walk back to the office, and hit it off as though they’d known each other for years. Geneva even opened the calendar on her phone and scheduled Stella for a much-needed color and cut the following weekend.

  Once they reached the office, they stood outside the door as Stella gave Geneva a quick run-down on the inner workings of Sandhill. “Even volunteers get dragged into the quicksand of academic politics,” Stella said. “Make sure you stay clear of it by limiting your contact with too many folks while you’re here. There are a few teachers and parent volunteers who’re still resistant to the changes that Dr. Owens has made to the school. And with his new plans for accountability this year, I can see some major push-back on the horizon.”