Sinful Intentions

by Crystal Rhodes

  “I know, but I am worried about Rhonda. She’s so busy concentrating on hating me, I don’t think she’s seeing that there might be a problem with her relationship with him. I’m telling you, that man means her no good.”

  “And she’s not about to hear that from you.”

  “Not hardly, and despite how she feels about me, I like Rhonda. She’s got a lot of spunk. She’s hell-bent on protecting her father, and I can’t fault her for that. So, I’ll just put little Mr. Garth in his place if he flirts with me again and see what happens. Now, that’s enough about me. How are things going with you? Whatever happened with that guy you were telling me about that was following us at the airport and Sin and the kids at the mall?”

  “Well, Sin gave his license plate number to a friend of his and he ran them. Turns out it was a rental car, and the name and I.D. the man gave were both phony.”

  “That’s scary. Has he been spotted again?”

  “No, and I hope that he won’t be.”

  “Who do you think he was? What do you think he wanted?”

  “I wish I knew. Sin reported it to the authorities, and we’ve alerted the school and the security company that patrols our street. No law has been broken, so that’s all we can do for now.”

  Nedra glanced at her watch. “Guess it’s time to get back to work.” She paid the waitress and gathered her things to leave.

  Sharon laughed. “Get back to work. Lady of leisure you haven’t been to work yet. It must be nice being able to lie around until noon. Everybody ain’t able.”

  “You are when you strike a deal with your husband to pull kid duty on Mondays, Wednesdays and every other Friday.” Nedra only worked four days a week.

  Sharon followed Nedra through the restaurant. “That’s what I like about your relationship with Sin. You two work as a team.”

  Nedra smiled as she recalled the chaos of this morning as the kids got ready for school. Gillian whined about missing one of her lucky socks. Colin couldn’t find his favorite shirt and Trevor was so late getting downstairs that he had to chase Sin’s car down the driveway to catch his ride to school. After eating breakfast with the family, she had gone back to bed, pulled the cover over her head and thanked God that Monday mornings belonged to Sin.

  “Yeah, it takes teamwork. There’s no doubt about that.” They reached the street and started toward the office.

  The much shorter Sharon worked to keep up with Nedra’s long-legged strides. “I hope our marriage turns out like yours and Sin’s. It’s perfect.”

  Nedra came to an immediate stop. Sharon proceeded and was at the corner before she realized that her friend wasn’t at her side. She went back to her.

  “What’s up?”

  “What you just said, that’s what. There’s nothing perfect about our marriage, and I don’t want you to think so.”

  “Are you kidding?” Sharon couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Your husband’s good-looking, rich, romantic and he loves you to death. What’s not perfect about that?”

  “I won’t lie, all of that is good, but the reality is that it takes more than looks, money and even love to make a good marriage. It takes work, lots of work—every day, every minute, every hour. It takes being there when the chips are down, forgiving each other when mistakes are made. Sin and I have had our disagreements. Being newlyweds and having three kids was a challenge and still is, but our marriage hasn’t really been tested like it could be. When and if that happens, how we handle it will determine how strong our marriage really is. Nothing in life is perfect. I’m just grateful that so far it works.”

  Sharon remained silent. As they continued walking, she thought about what Nedra said. Perhaps she had looked at the marriages of her two best friends unrealistically, but what they had was what she had always wanted and she had it within her grasp with Winston. It was a shock to her that Nedra didn’t consider her life with Sin as ideal, but Sharon had vowed that she would make her own marriage as close to it as possible. Whatever problems might occur in the future, she and her husband would face them together, and they would conquer them all. She and Winston were forever.

  * * *

  “My father would kill you if he knew what we’ve been doing in your office.” Rhonda hooked the front of her bra, and then buttoned her silk blouse. She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt as Garth zipped the front of his pants. He gave her a satisfied grin.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t doing the same thing in his office with your stepmother.”

  Rhonda’s chest heaved. “How dare you say that about my father?” Her voice was venomous.

  “Grow up, baby. Any man with a woman who looks like that couldn’t help but want her 24-7. Your father’s no exception. What do you think, that they have a celibate marriage or something? Get real!”

  Rhonda was trembling with rage. The very thought of her father and that gold-digging slut making love made her sick.

  Garth knew that his words had gotten to her. Feeding off her insecurities, he tightened the screws. “If they decided to have a little rug rat, that’s going to leave you out in the cold.”

  Rhonda looked at him in confusion. “Rug rat?”

  Garth gave a disgusted sigh. The woman was so sheltered. That’s what irked him about her. She was a genuine Black American Princess if he had ever met one. Rhonda had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth—wealthy grandparents, a big shot lawyer father. She had never known a hungry or cold day in her life. He could barely hide the contempt in his voice as he chided her.

  “Don’t you know anything? Rug rats! Rug rats! Babies! Children! Bambinos!” He rolled his eyes. He could hardly believe her stupidity.

  Rhonda tensed, defensive. “Well, I’m not as familiar with the ghetto terms as you are, Garth. Remember, I wasn’t raised in the projects.”

  She turned her back to walk away, but was stopped instantly as Garth viciously grabbed her upper arm and jerked her to him. She was within inches of his face as his spittle spewed between clenched teeth. His face was a grotesque mask of anger out of control. “How many times have I told you that nasty little attitude of yours could get you hurt?”

  Garth watched as her moment of confident superiority turned to one of uncertainty. That was the reaction he wanted—humility, subjugation. She was too full of herself. When they got married he meant to change that. Right now, he would break her down gradually so that she would know just who the superior one really was in this relationship. He had fought his way out of circumstances that had defeated better men, and here she was born of privilege, naïve as hell, committed to nothing except how to shop, and she thought that she was better than him? What a joke! She would learn.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” Rhonda’s voice quivered. “I didn’t mean it.” Why did she always say things to antagonize him? She loved him. She didn’t want to make him angry. With a slight shove, Garth released her.

  Swallowing, Rhonda backed away, rubbing her upper arm where his handprint was still visible. As she did so, she saw the tension melt from his face and his features soften. He moved toward her. She shrunk away. Garth halted.

  “Oh, baby,” he cooed. “Come here.” It was time to get back on her good side. She might tell her father about this little incident, and he didn’t want that to happen. Women exaggerated everything.

  Rhonda stood rooted. He moved closer, put his hand out and soothingly stroked her bruised arm.

  “Did I hurt you?” He examined the reddening spot on her arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you that hard.” He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him. “I’d rather cut my hand off before I’d ever hurt you.” He could feel her relax against him. Redemption was near.

  “I know, baby.” Everything was all right again. She had made him a little angry, but things would be fine.

  Garth gave her one of his kisses that was guaranteed to make her weak in the knees, and it did. He picked her up and carried her to the leather sofa across the room. After they
addressed their bodies’ needs, all would be forgiven, and any problems that they encountered in their relationship would be forgiven and forgotten—again.

  * * *

  Evelyn Linwood willed her heartbeat to slow down as she heard Sinclair Reasoner’s voice coming from the hallway. She didn’t want any hint of her rising emotions to show. Admittedly, she had taken extra care with her hair this morning, and it took her two hours to pick out an outfit to wear to work. Of course she wasn’t the only one. Sinclair volunteered at the school every Monday, and it seemed that on this particular day of the week the majority of the female staff appeared to dress particularly nice. Coincidence? She didn’t think so. She was well aware that she was the one who stood out, and not only because she was one of the few African-American teachers at the school. She was also a beautiful woman—with shoulder-length, raven hair, a flawless light cream-colored complexion and her most striking feature, large dark blue eyes. As a result, people were never quite certain of her race. She was the kind of woman who turned heads when she walked into a room. Men wanted her, but she was particular. Shechosen her course in life carefully. Working as a teacher in one of the wealthiest school districts in the country had been part of her plan to find a husband with money. Her hope was that she’d also fall in love with him. Well, she hadn’t found the one for her yet, but she did have a serious crush on at least one man. Sinclair Reasoner walked in the door with Trevor, and her heart nearly stopped beating. This was a good-looking man.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Linwood.” His deep, baritone greeting nearly took her breath away.

  Evelyn nodded, afraid that she couldn’t keep her voice from trembling. She knew that he would be coming to her classroom after lunch. Nearly every Monday he spent the morning volunteering in his daughter’s classroom. After eating lunch with his children, he would spend the afternoon in her classroom, so his appearance was not a surprise. Yet, her reaction to him was always the same. Self-consciously she became preoccupied with a stack of papers as Sinclair approached her desk.

  “What have you got on the agenda for me today?” He noticed the papers in her hands. “Grading?”

  She inhaled the masculine scent of his cologne as he bent over her desk looking at her quizzically with his dark, piercing eyes. The man’s charisma was magnetic. Evelyn cleared her throat.

  “As a matter of fact, I do have some papers to grade.” She pushed the papers toward him, having no idea what she was giving him. Sinclair examined them.

  “Hmmm, math.” His forehead furrowed in concentration. “Not my favorite subject.” He smiled down at her. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

  Turning, he walked to the back of the room to the table reserved for parent volunteers. Conscious of the children present, Evelyn pretended to survey the classroom while clandestinely admiring the way Sinclair’s jeans fit his backside and how well his knit shirt draped his wide shoulders. She was so engrossed in pretending not to watch him that at first she didn’t hear her name being called. The voice grew louder, finally gaining her attention. It was Trevor Reasoner talking to her.

  * * *

  “And she said, ‘I’m sorry what did you say?’” Trevor fell back on the array of pillows in a gale of laughter as he recounted the story to his brother. Colin took delight in his stories about the teachers at his school and the way they acted around their father. Colin said that they had “the hots” for him.

  “I told you she liked him.” Colin leaned back on the giant pillows on which he was lounging with a look of satisfaction. “I knew I was right, and Dad doesn’t have a clue.”

  “Why not?” Trevor cocked his head, awaiting his brother’s wisdom.

  “Because he’s too much in love with Mama to notice.”

  Trevor grinned. He liked that answer. He burrowed deeper in his sea of pillows. It was fun being in Colin’s room where they could lay back, look at the star-filled sky above and hear the sound of the ocean below.

  “This is good, Colin.” Trevor sighed. “This is all good.”

  Colin nodded, needing no further explanation. They had come a long way from the streets and alleys of Oakland, and for Trevor the horrors of those days were fading memories. He was glad. He had prayed that his little brother would forget the hungry days and nights, the seedy motel rooms and apartments and the parade of “uncles” who posed danger for their mother and for them. In his prayers, he hoped that their biological mother was finally at peace and that she knew that her sons had found the love and security she couldn’t seem to provide.

  It had taken a while for him to feel that way. The fear he had tried to protect his brother from plagued him even after their parents adopted them, but that was before the night of the dance.

  It happened a month after the family moved into the new house. He was twelve then and had trouble sleeping through the night. Despite the recent years of comfort for him and his brother, memories of the past still caused anxieties that often interrupted his slumber. That night he crept from his bed around midnight to check on Trevor and Gillian and was in the hallway when he heard a noise that brought him to the top of the stairs leading to the family room. For a moment, he stood listening carefully above the beating of his racing heart. It was the melodic sound of music drifting up the stairway that drew him closer and the gentle laughter and whispered voices of his parents that kept him there. At first he was anxious. It was early in the morning, and they were still up. Was something wrong? He drew closer, obscured by a curve in the stairway that prevented them from seeing him but from which he could view them.

  His parents were dancing. Not the modern dances of today, but those old-fashioned dances with the funny names and movements that they did back in the day. They were laughing, teasing each other and acting silly—more like kids than adults. The music stopped and his father put on another CD, then suddenly the atmosphere between them changed. The song playing was also from the “old school.” It was called “Love Ballad” and was sung by a group called LTD. His father played the song a lot and was always talking about how nobody could sing the song like Jeffery Osborne. It was their parents’ favorite song, the one that always drew that secret smile from them, just as it did that night.

  Colin looked up to find Trevor standing beside him, looking down at their parents. He didn’t say a word, but he had a smile on his face as he sat down beside his older brother. They turned their attention back to their parents, just as their father went to their mother and pulled her into his arms. The two of them began to dance slowly, holding each other tightly. Then they started kissing. That was Colin and Trevor’s cue to leave.

  When he returned to his room, he had felt different inside. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he had not had a problem sleeping since. Neither he nor his brother had ever mentioned that night to their parents or to each other; but Colin knew that they had been silent witnesses to something very special.

  Colin smiled, remembering that day. Trevor caught his eye and shared the smile. He too remembered the dance.

  “Yeah, it is good,” Colin agreed. He and Trevor sat in comfortable silence for a moment until a noisy knock on the door interrupted their solace.

  “Colin! Trevor! I know you’re in there. Let me in!”

  It was Gillian, little Miss Dynamite, another name that she was known by in the family. She was looking for her brothers and she wouldn’t be denied. Continued silence wouldn’t deter her. Colin hollered across the room.

  “The door is open, Gillian.”

  Their sister peeked in the room and spotted the boys in the corner relaxing on pillows. “What y’all doing?”

  Trevor sighed. “What does it look like we’re doing?”

  “Nothing.” Slamming the door behind her, Gillian padded across the room in her giant Donald Duck bedroom slippers, dragging her favorite doll behind her. Ignoring the abundance of colorful pillows for a seat in Colin’s lap, she plopped down on him with a thud, eliciting a grunt but no objection. She was the baby of
the family, and she claimed every lap in the house as her own.

  “Are you two playing?” She leaned back in Colin’s arms in an effort to get comfortable. “What y’all playing, The Best Time Ever?”

  Her eyes shone with excitement at the possibility of playing the game that the Reasoners had invented in which each member took a turn in describing the best times they had together as a family.

  “No, we’re not playing anything, Gillian.” Trevor’s tone indicated his annoyance at her having intruded on their solitude. “We’re just talking.”

  “I want to talk, too.” She always wanted to do whatever her brothers did.

  “Okay,” Colin nudged her, amused as always by his audacious little sister. “What do you have to say?”

  Gillian put a finger in her mouth and thought about it before breaking out into an impish grin. “I know!”

  Leaning over toward Trevor, she kissed his cheek, and then planted a noisy kiss on Colin’s cheek catching both boys by surprise.

  “I love you.” She made her announcement with so much pride that the boys instantly melted. Gillian had done it again, wrapped them around her finger with three little words. No matter how pesky she might be, she had a way of burrowing her way into your heart.

  Colin was the first to recover. “Oh yeah?” He declared, fighting the urge to get mushy with her by tickling her on her round little stomach. Gillian squealed in delight and broke into a hail of giggles as she tried to escape Colin’s grasp.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Trevor caught her and joined in the fray.

  The three of them rolled around on the pillows, laughing hysterically as they tried to tickle each other. Finally, they lay sprawled on the floor breathless, exhausted by their lively activity. Colin looked at the happy faces of his younger siblings and gave a satisfied sigh. Yeah, it was all good.

  Chapter 8

  Sin ran into Mrs. Lucia just as he was about to exit the kitchen. She jumped, startled.