Sinful Too (18 page)

“I’m alright with God, Richard. I’m not alright with you though, nor with how that woman’s presence and brazen carrying-on made me feel. She’s got designs on you. I saw those looks. I recognize it when hoochies and groupies undress my man in front of my eyes. She couldn’t take hers off you.”

“You mean, she couldn’t take her eyes off my suit,” Richard asserted. “I made a deal with Dior when she sold it to me. You probably didn’t even notice the monogram on the sleeve.” He held it out so Nadeen would feel even more foolish by the time he finished spinning his deceitful web. “I promised her that if she came to M.E.G.A. as my guest, I’d wear this ridiculous pink tie on pastor’s day. I didn’t think she’d hold up her end of the deal. And yes, I was proud when she did. I always said the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Today, that young lady made perhaps the biggest one of her life toward salvation. Hopefully, it didn’t result in two steps backward.” When Nadeen’s eyes fell toward the floor, Richard knew he’d done another masterful job of adequately clouding the issue. Nadeen didn’t know what to believe, so Richard tipped the scale in his favor by using her words against her. “Oh yeah, I’d love to hear how Dior all but confirmed what you thought you saw happening between us?”

“I told her who I was and asked the same of her. She said to ask
Mr.
Richard Allamay where she fits in,” Nadeen said reluctantly, as a sinking feeling came over her.

“She used to fit me for suits, although that might not be the case any longer,” he said in passing. “Come on, ain’t nothing we can do about it before the Lord does so let’s get some lunch.” When he opened the door, Roxy and Mahalia quickly leaned against the opposite wall. They had undoubtedly heard a great deal of the conversation. Richard didn’t feel the need to address their wandering eyes and itching ears, so he grabbed his eldest by the hand and quietly started for the elevator.

Nadeen was torn asunder, not sure if she’d done the right thing by confronting a person who appeared to be a very dangerous wolf marking the shepherd’s moves. Then the thought of potentially committing the unthinkable sin of chasing a lost soul from the church door made her head hurt. Richard’s explanation sounded plausible, but she couldn’t completely take his word for it. Confused and darn near cross-eyed, Nadeen decided to put her feelings on hold until she could firm up her suspicions or cast them away altogether. Despite how mixed up she felt, Roxanne’s snaggletoothed smile helped ease the strain, until the child’s inquisition began.

“Mommy, why are you and Daddy fighting over that pretty lady in the pink dress?”

“We aren’t fighting, baby, and that lady isn’t so pretty,” Nadeen sniped irritably.

“She looked like a movie star to me,” argued Roxanne. “I heard so many people fussing over how pretty she was and how her face looked painted on.”

Her makeup and tight dress were painted on
, Nadeen thought to herself. “People are sometimes excited to see a new face. It happens all the time, even at the zoo.”

Roxanne missed the boulder her mother threw at Dior’s head. She didn’t miss the opportunity to share what she’d heard earlier. “Mommy, what’s a stank-butt gold digger?”

“Nothing, Roxy,” Nadeen answered firmly, guessing what other terrible things were said about Dior. “I thought I talked to you about not repeating what you heard said about others. It’s not nice.”

“I just thought it sounded funny,” Roxanne countered. “Herman was telling everybody his daddy called that pretty — uh, not so pretty — lady lots of names. Some of them didn’t make me laugh, though.” Nadeen began to feel sorry for attacking Dior without knowing all the details. Perhaps it was Richard’s prior actions that put her on edge, on the offensive, and ready to pounce. She was reminded that a minister’s wife should act considerably kinder toward visitors than Herman’s foul-mouthed daddy. Nadeen stepped off the elevator unsettled, but she couldn’t find an ounce of regret in her heart for protecting what was still hers, as far as she knew.

Seventeen

Too Many Husbands

A
ll afternoon, Nadeen followed Richard around the house with her eyes. She tracked him into the bedroom, counted his steps into the kitchen, and later stared him down when he said he was leaving early for evening service. If it hadn’t been for Roxanne’s sudden stomachache, Nadeen would have grabbed her shoes and followed him out of the house. Mahalia was old enough to look after her younger sister, but it bordered on psychotic behavior trying to keep Richard under constant surveillance. After the heated discussion they had in his private chambers, he would have been brain-dead to do anything remotely ominous, which would potentially spark another venom-laced attack, whether it was warranted or not. Nadeen felt justified when she watched him walk out the door without his typical confident stride. She breathed a labored sigh of relief, feeling she had put him in check but good.

Over the next hour, Nadeen read bedtime stories to Roxanne while checking her temperature intermittently. The child couldn’t understand why her mother chose nighttime reading material when the sun hadn’t gone off to bed yet. Although it was merely wishful thinking on Nadeen’s part, the precocious eight-year-old fought off her trip to dreamland as best she could, playing the sickly patient to the hilt all the while. Roxanne asked for ice cream to soothe her sore throat, then she pleaded pitifully for chicken soup to take the chill away. Nadeen met each request with a motherly there-there followed by a heaping dose of love. She’d all but forgotten about Richard and that “treacherous thing” dressed in pink who disrupted morning worship and caused her to repent for the terrible mischief she imagined having gone on behind her back. When Nadeen investigated the reason why Mahalia had been cooped up in her room for hours, behind closed doors, she realized how derelict in her duty she was regarding her oldest daughter.

Down the hall from Roxanne’s room, Mahalia lay sprawled across her bed as well, only she hadn’t spent most of the day demanding her mother’s time and attention. Mahalia took full advantage by burning up the second phone line she convinced her parents was necessary and well deserved for being a good student and a part-time babysitter. Reluctantly, Richard caved in to Mahalia’s constant petitions. Nadeen however, was not fond of the idea from the very beginning nor had she softened her stance in the two months since her husband buckled. She held legitimate concerns about the intimate conversations very likely finding their way to Mahalia’s private line.

Nadeen tiptoed up to the bedroom door quietly. She leaned in, carefully placing her ear against it. Stifled by muffled sounds, Nadeen had a difficult decision to make. Spying on Mahalia wasn’t the coolest mother move, but she felt compelled to keep tabs on her daughter, who now had budding breasts and a swelling interest in mannish, smooth-talking boys. With that in mind, Nadeen squeezed the doorknob gently. She turned the handle and held her breath. As she pushed it ever so slightly, Mahalia’s words became clearer. “Yeah, girl, I’m telling you. All Dwayne wanted to do was get his dirty fingers in my panties. No, I didn’t want him to . . . until he washed his nasty hands.”

After hearing her child’s recognition and admittance to participating in a sexual act, Nadeen gasped. Her knees trembled and her fingers tingled. She wanted to barge in, rip the phone from Mahalia’s hot little hands, and commence running a bar of soap through her filthy mouth. Nadeen felt her chest heave in and out. Where was Richard at a time like this? she wondered. He wouldn’t be able to shrug off this incident as if it hadn’t changed everything about their relationship. Nadeen was a breath away from busting through that door on a mad tear but something stopped her. She heard further appalling language spewing from her daughter’s lips.

“I don’t know, Trevy, they say you can’t get pregnant if you’re on top, so next time Dwayne can get some without the condom as long as I ride. I’ll tell him that he can bring his big brother, who’s home from college too. I hope he can show me some new moves. Girl, yeah, I’m ready for a threesome. I can handle it.”

Nadeen couldn’t hold her place or her tongue any longer. She ripped through the door, tortured. Her daughter sat casually at her desk, seemingly unaffected by her mother’s sudden appearance. “Mahalia! Hang up that phone!” screamed Nadeen, loud enough to peel paint off the walls.

Mahalia rolled her eyes. “I have to go, Trevy. Told you my mama was at the door,” she said knowingly. “Yeah, she knows I was playing.” Mahalia tossed the telephone onto the light-colored desk, next to her personal computer.

“Uh-huh, you were playing alright? Am I supposed to believe you knew I was standing out there?”

“Yeah, Mama, playing. I heard you coming down the hall from Roxy’s room. These walls are thinner than you think,” she said as a warning for Nadeen to watch what she said behind her own closed doors.

“You must think I’m stupid.”

“You must think I’m a ho,” Mahalia snapped angrily. In the blink of an eye, Nadeen hauled off and popped her across the face with an open hand.

“I will not be talked to that way in my own house, much less by my own child. I won’t stand for it. You hear me!” Nadeen watched as her daughter massaged her face bitterly, gawking with contempt-filled eyes, which held no tears. “If you want to keep your phone privileges, be mindful of what you say on it and watch your mouth in
my
house.” Nadeen trembled all over. She’d never been sorrier for anything in her whole life. The anger that caused her to strike Mahalia was misguided. She’d been storing it up for Richard.

“Since you really believed what I said to Trevy, then why don’t you take the phone, Mama?” Mahalia huffed. “You don’t know me any better than you know Daddy.” Nadeen clenched her teeth as she lunged furiously at her daughter like before. Only this time was different. Nadeen froze when Mahalia jutted the opposite side of her face toward her mother’s outstretched hand. “What’s the matter, Mama? I’m just turning the other cheek!” she hissed proudly. When a single tear streamed down the large swollen red welt in the shape of her attacker’s hand, Mahalia scowled. Nadeen understood then she’d made a dreadful mistake. Her daughter wasn’t crying because of the stinging blow. Mahalia was hurt far greater and much deeper than a mere slap could create. She shared her mother’s concerns while dealing with her own issues regarding her father’s deficiency of time and attention. It had become devastatingly evident to Nadeen that she wasn’t the only one in the room missing Richard and the way things used to be.

Nadeen stepped toward Mahalia with her arms open wide, but her efforts were not received in the spirit they were offered. Mahalia stiff-armed Nadeen then turned her face away. She wasn’t ready to forgive her mother’s backlash or reluctance to do what she felt necessary to fix her marriage. Nadeen backed away, feeling sorry for harming Mahalia and worse for allowing her unrest to damage their friendship. She wanted to apologize. She craved reconciliation. She needed forgiveness and a long conversation with her husband.

Nadeen stomped into Richard’s home office, tossing drawers and digging through his files. She didn’t find anything that appeared inappropriate. After duplicating her steps a third time, she noticed the corner of a white card sticking out from beneath the black leather desk pad. Intuition forced her to ease it out with her fingernails. Nadeen felt foolish when she discovered it was simply a business card from a clothing store, Giorgio’s Men’s Boutique. The name Dior Wicker had been written on the bottom in blue ink, but it didn’t raise an alarm because Richard explained how she’d sold him a suit and a couple of neckties. Just as Nadeen made a move to return it, she remembered what Dior said earlier that day about how she fit into Richard’s life.

Giving in to her sixth sense again, Nadeen flipped over the card. Her head wobbled wearily when the numbers written on the back were underlined twice with the words
cell phone
jotted beneath them.
There it is
, she thought,
hidden in plain view.
Since the abbreviated evening church service had concluded more than two hours ago, Richard should have been home by then or at least have called to check on Roxanne’s condition. Seeing as how neither had occurred, Nadeen sat in the leather high-back chair, staring at the telephone.

While punching in the numbers, she imagined saying things she wouldn’t be sorry for or have to repent later on. She’d meant them, all of the vile rants entitled to a wife whose husband had found comfort in another woman’s bed. Nadeen rehearsed a tirade of words in her mind, a wall of them, and each one more putrid than the last.

Fifteen miles away, Dior’s cell phone rang repeatedly. She ignored the annoying summons from the nightstand next to the bed as her evening companion lapped heartily between her thighs until she erupted thunderously in unbridled cataclysmic ecstasy. “Okay, okay,” she muttered, pushing his head away once she’d had enough. “I don’t have nothing left. Go on now, lay down or something.” Dior slid off the moist sheets then scurried into the bathroom. She groaned when the phone began ringing again. “I’ll turn it off in a second!” she hollered from the darkness.

“Someone wants you almost as bad as me,” he replied. “Why don’t I answer it?”

“Because you’re not that crazy,” she teased, returning to the bedroom. Dior tried to steal a peek at the incoming call before shutting it off, but the number wasn’t familiar to her. “Somebody must have the wrong number,” she said dismissively.

“Go ahead and take the call,” he insisted, putting Dior in a prickly spot. She did not want to risk it being another man asking for quality time she didn’t have to spare. She was forced to answer the call in order to throw off the suspicion of juggling lovers in a crowded bed.

Dior grimaced when the ringing continued. Smiling uncomfortably, she picked up the phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Dior. Who’s this?” she asked, frowning at the woman’s ugly tone. “How’d you get this number? What? Oh, it’s like that?”

Although Nadeen worked hard at controlling her emotions, she found herself shouting belligerently while demanding to speak with her husband immediately. She had fallen so far, stooping to the level of the bitter wife snooping through her man’s things in a desperate attempt of grasping at straws. Nadeen held her tongue when she heard rustling noises and whispers in the background.