The Cheating Curve (16 page)

“I gotta go, Fame,” Aminah said before slamming down the phone.

“Shit. Minah, baby, I’m sorry,” Fame said to the dial tone. “Damn it!” Fame threw the cordless phone across the room.

As more family and friends arrived, it eased the tension between the mothers-in-law, but not the curiosity regarding Aminah’s whereabouts. Everyone knew how much Aminah loved holidays and family gatherings. But Fame had no answers for them. Neither did Lang. Nor did Miss Lenora.

At the pumpkin table Sean sat next to Amir. Diagonally across from him, Lang sat next to Alia. Sean hadn’t uttered as much as a syllable in Lang’s direction since they’d arrived, yet no one noticed except, well, Lang. Aminah’s absence overshadowed everything. Somehow Fame managed to bless the food, his family, his friends, and his wife, who regrettably couldn’t be there. Amen.

A
minah probably would’ve slept well past three if it hadn’t been for the incessant ringing of her cell phone.

Black Friday found her slumbering through all the early-bird shopping specials. Regardless, Aminah had crossed the last item off her Christmas gift list before the first trick-or-treater had ever buzzed the intercom at her security gate. The only exception this year was Fame’s Aire Traveler watch, but receiving his gift hand-delivered from the designer himself was well worth the delay. Though, at this point, Aminah wasn’t sure what she was doing with that opulent timepiece. Fame certainly wasn’t worthy of it.

She glanced at the caller ID through a half-opened eye.

“Sean?” she answered groggily.

“Hey, gorgeous. You said oneish, so…”

“What time is it?” she asked after clearing her throat.

“One-oh-five. I’ve been redialing your number for the past five minutes straight. You okay over there? I was getting worried.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Aminah yawned. “Are
you
okay?”

Sean swallowed the lump in his throat. “Uh, nah, not really, Minah,” he admitted. “I think I’m losin’ it. Listen, you still wanna grab something to eat? I really need to talk to you. Like, sooner than later.”

“Oh, man, Sean, I haven’t showered or anything,” Aminah revealed, sitting up in the plush bed. She pointed and flexed her toes underneath the soft Egyptian cotton sateen sheets. “You mind coming to the hotel? I’ll order room service,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

“Bet, but don’t bother getting me anything. I’m not hungry.”

Aminah requested housekeeping to straighten up while she showered, but not before ordering a baby spinach salad with shaved Bosc pears along with the roasted red snapper. She ordered Sean a pot of tea, ginger ale, and the brick-pressed marinated chicken just in case he changed his mind.

As Aminah faced the full blast of hot water from the showerhead and lathered in the Bulgari shower gel, she wondered if her best friend had lied to her about ending her thing with Dante. Lang had been so confident—cocky, in fact—about Sean never finding out, and now here she was about to defend or deny her best friend’s affair she had so vehemently and personally deplored.

Great
, Aminah thought as she toweled off.
I don’t have room in my head or my life for guilt. I won’t do it. I’ll listen, but I won’t lie. Don’t need that kind of negative energy circling or hindering me. Nope, not gon’ be able to do it.

Once Sean arrived at the hotel room, they started talking about the dinner the night before and laughed about Amir, Alia, and the pumpkin table.

“All things considered, I have to admit your boy, Fame, handled Thanksgiving dinner pretty damn well,” Sean confessed between sips of peppermint tea. The chicken might as well have been the second runner-up in a beauty pageant.

“Good. Glad to hear it,” Aminah said after savoring her pinot grigio. “I wouldn’t’ve wanted it any other way.”

Sean watched Aminah push the yellow corn sauce and red snapper onto her fork as he wrestled with the sequence of images replaying in his head. Since last Saturday he’d mentally rewound, paused, and fast-forwarded the images—so fast that sometimes they got all distorted, challenging him to decipher which parts he’d imagined and which had actually occurred. Most times he turned down the volume till he got to the part where she said she couldn’t wait to see him. He amplified “
CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU EITHER!
” in surround sound.

This might not just be phone sex
, Sean reasoned or unreasoned.
Clearly, my wife is seeing him. And didn’t she say something about her pussy being his? Hadn’t she even called him Daddy?
Sean let out a soft grunt. It was his stomach again.

He got up from the table and walked over to the window, revealing an impressive view of Lady Liberty. She reminded him of his wife. Tall. Proud. Alluring. A beacon to guide free men toward her….

“So tell me, Aminah, who is this dude?” Sean asked, turning away from the suddenly disturbing view.

“What dude, Sean?” Aminah asked, swallowing a piece of her tender fish a bit too fast. She coughed a few times and then gulped down the rest of the pinot in her glass. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about.”

“Gorgeous, I know Langston is your absolute best friend in the whole wide world. But you know how much I love that woman. How long I’ve been waiting to start our family. How I’ve supported her career in spite of all that.” Sean sat back down in his chair next to Aminah and put his face in his hands.

“And I mean, really, when you think about it,” he said rubbing his temples, “I mean, really, really think about it, she’s probably been using her fucking career as some kind of stalling tactic, some sort of shield to prevent her from giving me my baby, my family.”

Aminah pulled Sean’s hands down and held them. “Sean, honey, you’re confusing me. I’m really trying to follow you. Is this about some dude or about Lang being ready to have children? Because just the other day she told me she was getting Merrick ready to—”

“Lies,” Sean spat, releasing her hands. “She’s lying, Aminah. The only thing Lang is getting ready to do is get herself killed,” he said, pounding on the table, rattling the cold poultry on his plate.

“Okay Sean, calm down,” Aminah said, getting up from her seat to rub his back. “First of all, where’s all this coming from? Did Langston say something to you specifically about not wanting children or something?”

“She didn’t have to, Aminah. She’s fucking another man. She’s not thinking about me and my kids. She’s thinking about the next time she can fuck him. Can you believe that shit?”

How in the hell could Lang be so careless?
Aminah wondered as she continued rubbing Sean’s back. And exactly when did her best friend start lying to her? Aminah shook her head. She didn’t even want to go there right now.

“So this is all speculation,” Aminah asked, hoping that it was, believing that it wasn’t.

“Fuck, no, this ain’t speculation,” Sean said, looking at Aminah sideways.

“So how do you know she’s sleeping with someone else, Sean?”

“Not you, too, gorgeous?” he asked incredulously, shrugging her hand off his back. “Now
you
tryna play me?”

“No, Sean, not at all. I’m sorry, sweetie. I can’t…” She paused to stop herself from lying. “I—I just don’t want to believe all this.”

Sean got up from the table, walked over to the window, glared at Lady Liberty, and then sat down on the couch. He wrung his hands together and reasoned that maybe, just maybe, because Lang had hidden the affair from him, perhaps she hadn’t been so forthcoming with Aminah either. After all, Lang did share with him that she and Aminah hadn’t been as close lately and that she really missed her.

“You know your girl’s a freak, right?” Sean asked Aminah seemingly out of nowhere.

Aminah raised her left eyebrow and then nodded. She braced herself for a detailed description of Dante bending her best friend over in some ghetto Kama Sutra position she’d never even fathomed.

“And I don’t have a problem with that,” Sean continued. “I love it, in fact. So with my wife being a freak and all, I think nothing of it when I hear her moaning from behind our bedroom door. All I’m thinking is, ‘Damn, Lang has got the most insatiable pussy on the planet,’ but—”

“Wait,” Aminah said, holding up her right hand. “I’m gonna need more wine.” She brought both her glass and the bottle over to coffee table in front of the sofa. Sean watched anxiously as she poured another glass and then took a sip.

“Okay, continue.”

“Yeah, so as I was saying, Lang’s got this insatiable pussy, but that’s okay because I put in work. She does tell you I put in work, right?”

Aminah smirked, nodded, and took another sip.

“So last Saturday I’m in such a rush to get to this basketball game that I forget my lucky sports watch. So I turn around to go get it, ’cause, you know, I’m just that superstitious. Anyway, I run up the stairs, get right outside our bedroom door, and I hear Lang moaning and masturbating like she’s getting fucked, which, hey, if you know Lang is not surprising. But what is shocking for a man like me, who, you know, puts in work, is finding out that she’s not alone in our bedroom.”

Aminah spit out her pinot.

“You all right, Minah?” Sean asked, patting her on the back.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “What do you mean she wasn’t alone in your bedroom?”

“She was on the phone with another man, Aminah,” Sean said, shaking his head in disbelief. He nobly fought back tears. “Moaning for him on our bed. Rubbing my clit for him. Having
his
orgasm on
our
bed, Aminah. Fuck me for loving her!”

Sean dropped his head. It was as unforgettable for him as the day of their wedding. He wept.

It pained Aminah to see Sean agonizing so. She wondered if Fame was hurting. She had hoped he was, though not like this. Tiny pin pricks to his heart? Yes. Tortured mental anguish? Well, no, not quite.

“You’re not wrong for loving your wife,” Aminah said, wiping his face.

“No? Then why do I feel so stupid?” Sean asked, his voice cracking. “Why do I feel like the last four years have not only been a lie but a waste of my time, my life? Don’t you know I coulda had children by now, Aminah? The family I’ve always wanted, waiting on Langston’s ass. And what did all that patience and being a good husband get me, huh? My wife giving my pussy away over the phone.”

“Wait, so he wasn’t actually there with her in the bedroom?” Aminah clarified.

“Fuck, no, Aminah,” Sean said, looking at her like she was certified. “Then you’d be visiting me in jail for a double homicide.”

Aminah cleared her throat. “Sean, have you asked Langston about the phone sex?”

He hadn’t. He couldn’t. He needed information, facts, and ammunition when he confronted Langston. He knew she’d not only deny it, but she’d shred his accusations to ticker tape without physical proof, so he wanted to step to her with facts and reasons, not assumptions and emotions.

But that was only part of it. The first couple of days Sean had struggled, deciding if phone sex was enough of an indiscretion to threaten his marriage. It tore him apart knowing that someone else had gotten inside his wife’s head. That she’d allowed another man into the most intimate part of herself, the space she knew he treasured most, and on top of all that, Sean truly believed they’d sexed.

“Aminah, do you know who this motherfucker is? Where she met him? How long they’ve been seeing each other?”

Aminah didn’t know how to answer Sean without selling out Lang.

“You know, it was so much easier for me to blame the other women because I didn’t want to vilify my husband,” Aminah explained. “Ultimately, though, I had to realize that my trust wasn’t with them. My trust was in him. Those women didn’t destroy my trust. Fame did that all by himself. You need to talk to Langston. It really has nothing to do with some guy.”

Sean realized at that moment that even if Aminah knew everything, she wasn’t going to violate her best friend’s confidence. He respected that. And maybe she was right. She certainly had more experience in relationship turmoil than he did. She also had more tolerance for bullshit.

“I know what I gotta do,” Sean said, kissing Aminah on her forehead and then brushing the side of her face with the back of his hand. “You are gorgeous, and Fame doesn’t deserve you.”

He kissed her forehead again. This time he held his cool lips to her warm forehead for a few seconds longer. Aminah closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist. His warm body felt good to her. Sean, reluctant to release her, cupped Aminah’s face in his hands before bringing it to his chest. Aminah could feel his heart racing. She placed her hand on his chest. He rested his chin on top of her head and let his hand slide from her waist to her hips to her ass.

“You okay?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“I—I should go,” Sean stammered.

He stepped back and thanked Aminah for listening to him. Sean grabbed his peacoat, skully, and scarf off the back of the sofa and headed toward the door.

Aminah followed.

“Wait, Sean, where are you going? We’re not done yet.”

“Yeah, we are, gorgeous. You’re not gonna tell me what I want to know, and I should’ve known better. You’re loyal to her. She doesn’t deserve you either. But it’s cool. I know what I gotta do.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips and then gently closed the door behind him. Aminah stood on the other side, hoping she hadn’t betrayed the wrong friend. Praying she’d protected the one who most deserved it.

A
s she mindlessly dodged a couple of familiar potholes on Atlantic Avenue late Sunday morning, Lang tried to recall the last time she’d seen Aminah. She’d thought it was two weeks ago when she found her sleeping on Sean’s lap in his entertainment room. Lang had gotten home late that Friday night after a quickie with Dante in the back of his Escalade.

I am too grown to be fuckin’ in cars
. Lang snickered at the memory as she pulled her car directly behind Aminah’s.

Aminah had called her two nights ago to apologize for not speaking to Lang earlier in the day and to reconfirm their Session and brunch since she’d canceled their last one.

Aminah’s intention had been to ask Fame to pass the phone to Langston after she’d explained to him the reason she wouldn’t be home for Thanksgiving dinner. Instead she had hung up on her husband before he could finish his lame-ass attempt at an apology, splurged on four little two-ounce bottles of the insanely expensive Hawaiian Kona Nigari water at thirty-three dollars a pop, and soaked in a hot Bulgari bubble bath, forgetting all about wishing Langston a Happy Turkey Day.

“I’ve missed you,” Lang said, embracing Aminah at Pretty Inside. “You look good, girl. How you feeling?”

Aminah hesitated. While the intimate setting of Pretty Inside wasn’t her ideal place to freely vent, she needed to break up the chunks of confusion taking up entirely too much space inside her head.

“I’m feeling kinda torn,” Aminah finally said, pulling out of Lang’s embrace and walking over to the rainbow wall of designer polishes.

“Really?” Lang asked, following behind her. “Haven’t made up your mind yet, huh?”

“Not quite. No,” Aminah admitted, comparing a deep metallic-plum polish to a saturated purple one. She wasn’t feeling particularly pink these days.

“Life-changing decisions are never easy, sweetie,” Lang said, choosing Nars’s dark red Metropolis for both her hands and feet. “You know that.”

“True,” Aminah agreed, placing the purple polish back on the crowded shelf.

Lang and Aminah settled into their cushy seats at the nail stations, both adjusting their hibiscus-print pillows behind them as Natalie Cole sang “This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)” through the ceiling speakers above.

“What’s the rush to make a decision anyway?” Lang asked as the manicurist placed her feet in the large porcelain bowl filled with warm water and fresh mint leaves. “You’ve only been away, what? Two weeks?”

“Because what I’m wrestling with
now
is very time-sensitive.”

“
Now
?” Lang asked, confused. “Hold up, Aminah. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Aminah shook her head and chuckled at the irony of that question. There’d been no baby-making action in her bed lately. In fact, she was feeling sort of sexually emaciated. She hadn’t had any in two weeks, and she was used to having it damn near every day and at least twice a day on the weekends.

“Well, then, what’s so pressing?”

Aminah sipped the cold lemon water Erika had brought over. Denying indiscretions and protecting secrets had left Aminah very frustrated and slightly parched. She needed Lang to be receptive, not deflective, of the truth.

“Well, I’m torn because I had a visitor yesterday,” Aminah said, choosing her words cautiously. “And he was in so much pain that he’s thinking of walking away from his marriage to put himself out of his misery, and as much as I wanted to help him make a decision, I just couldn’t.”

“A visitor? Oh, please,” Lang said dismissively as the manicurist massaged her right foot. “What’s with the cryptic shit, Minah? Fame has a lot of nerve talking about walking away from something. If anybody should be leaving somebody, that body should be you. Hmph. You didn’t fall for that bullshit, Aminah, did you?” Lang continued ranting. “Fame is just frontin’. We had dinner. He just wants you back and is trying to pull some sort of ultimatum tactic. He told me. You should have seen your husband’s pathetic ass at Thanksgiving. Pumpkins on the table. Flowers on the floor—”

“That
body
is your husband, not mine, damnit!” Aminah snapped, raising her voice, startling both manicurists and stunning Lang.

For a moment, Natalie Cole was the only one saying anything.
“Huggin’ and squeezin’ and kissin’and pleasin’ together forever through rain or whatever…”

“Ladies, I’ve got a nice red wine in the back,” Erika said with a forced smile and stern, reprimanding stare. She had “you two know so much better” written all up in her stance. Erika Kirkland promised her patrons a pleasing pampering experience in a serene setting, hence the ginger-lei-scented Er’go candles and the no-cell-phone policy. “I’ll be back in two seconds with a nice
full
glass for each of you.”

As they sipped on their Bordeaux, Lang reluctantly agreed to finish their discussion outside of Pretty Inside. She didn’t know what the hell Aminah was talking about, but every time she initiated conversation—demanding clarification—Aminah held up her hand and closed her eyes. She was embarrassed for causing a mini-scene and refused to indulge Lang. She needed some time to get recentered.

Why would Sean want out of our marriage?
Lang wondered as she carefully slid her hands and feet under the nail driers.
And exactly when did he go see Aminah yesterday?

Lang felt a tinge of guilt as she recalled leaving the house early yesterday to go for a run in Fort Greene Park. She’d showered at Dante’s after her run. She’d sexed Dante after her shower. Not once had she given any thought to Sean’s whereabouts. She’d gotten careless.

An hour and a half later Lang and Aminah pulled into a parking garage a couple blocks down from Bubby’s in DUMBO. Lang had picked the waterfront eatery for its child-friendly atmosphere in case things got heated again. No argument of theirs could compete with the sounds of bored and hungry toddlers. Plus, the great view of Manhattan couldn’t make Aminah’s mood any worse.

On their quick, chilly walk to the restaurant, Lang expressed to Aminah that she found it hard to believe Sean would just want to divorce her out of nowhere. He’d given her no indication at all that anything was wrong. And on top of all that, she couldn’t understand why he’d talk to Aminah about it instead of coming to his own wife.

“So let me get this straight,” Lang said after ordering Bubby’s popular sour-cream pancakes, “Sean came to visit you at your hotel yesterday and told you he wanted out of our marriage?”

“You said you were ending your affair with Dante. I knew you were lying.”

“I wasn’t lying. I just never said exactly when. And what does that have to do with Sean trying to leave me?”

“Everything,” Aminah said, picking through the fresh bread in front of her, passing on the sourdough, selecting the pumpernickel. “Play with semantics all you want, Langston, but don’t play with your husband’s life.”

Lang had a sudden epiphany. “Oh, my God, you told him.”

Aminah rolled her eyes and finished off her mimosa. “No, Langston, you and your arrogant ass, swearing you’d never get caught, gloating about the fact that you were so much slicker, when really you’re just more deceptive than Fame.
You. Your
sorry ass told him.”

“Whatever, Aminah. Save the theatrics. I can’t believe you’d use your own relationship problems as an excuse to blow up my spot. So much for loyalty.”

“Fuck you, Langston,” Aminah said, ignoring the Peasant French Toast the waiter had just placed in front of her and then standing up suddenly to leave. “And to think I protected you and your lies instead of telling Sean what he wanted and deserved to know. Your husband came crying to
me
. Not you. And
I
was there to comfort him—”

“Well, why the hell would he need comforting if you didn’t tell him anything?”

“Because he heard you having phone sex, you dumbass!” Aminah yelled, causing the diners at nearby tables, including the bored and hungry toddlers, to turn around and stare. “Langston Neale Rogers,” Aminah said, lowering her voice and leaning across the table, “your husband watched you finger fuck yourself last Saturday on the phone with another man on top of the same bed he makes love to you on. He listened to you tell Dante you couldn’t wait to see him.
You
told him everything. I told him nothing.”

For the second time that day, Lang was silenced.

Aminah glared down at her. She was done. Done with Langston. Done with other people’s problems. Done.

“You got the bill, right?” Aminah asked, putting on her coat.

“Don’t go,” Lang said weakly. “I’m sorry, Aminah.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Okay, I deserved that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Sit down, Minah, please,” Lang begged pathetically.

Aminah stood for a few more seconds and shook her head before reluctantly sitting back down. She rubbed her temples over her lukewarm French toast. “Come clean, Langston. Sean’s in agony, and you’re responsible for putting him there.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“Your intention, Lang?” Aminah asked incredulously. “Unbelievable. I am so pissed off that you’ve got me in the middle of your mess when I’m dealing with my own damn marriage. And that’s all you can say. I’m outta here.”

“I’m sorry, Minah,” Lang said, grabbing Aminah’s wrist.

“Stop apologizing and repair what you’ve done, Lang,” Aminah said before the waiter interrupted to ask if they needed anything else. Aminah requested the check.

Lang didn’t know how Aminah expected her to fix this. She needed time to think. Clearly, her best friend wasn’t the right person to talk to. She saw confession as the only solution. Lang wondered if Dante would make a good listener.

“Well, if he already knows, what would be the purpose of me admitting to anything?” Lang questioned. “I mean, really, Minah, think about it. What is the real point of confession? I think it’s over-rated and self-serving. What purpose does it serve? To rid yourself of some guilt and in the process inflict pain on someone you love? That’s selfish. Why would I voluntarily do that?”

“You’re unreal,” Aminah said, standing back up.

“And phone sex isn’t even a good enough reason to throw away a marriage after four whole years,” Lang said, quickly signing the receipt.

Aminah walked away.

Lang grabbed her jacket and followed.

“You’re not just guilty of phone sex, Langston,” Aminah said, glancing back at her as she exited the restaurant.

“But the phone sex is all he knows about, right?”

“Yes, as far as I know,” Aminah said, power walking back to the garage.

“Listen, Aminah—”

“No, I am done listening, Lang,” Aminah said, stopping abruptly. “You wanna throw your marriage away over some pubescent sex? Go right ahead. But I guarantee you, Lang, if you don’t tell Sean the truth now, your marriage is really over. You betrayed your husband. He knows it. I know it. And you did it.”

“But why would I admit to anything, Minah?” Lang asked, pacing the sidewalk. “He’s known for, what, two weeks now and hasn’t said a word? I can’t see myself doing that.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Aminah said, exasperated. “Admit you’re wrong, beg for forgiveness, and work this out.”

“Forgiveness for phone sex?”

“No, forgiveness for cheating on your husband.”

“Is that really cheating?” Lang questioned, quickening her pace to keep up with Aminah. “I mean, if that’s all he knows, I’m not copping to that. He’s just gonna have to confront me or get over it. Maybe he’s pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Sean knows it’s not just phone sex, Lang,” Aminah said right before handing the valet her parking ticket. “He heard everything you said to Dante that day. You’re not listening to me.”

Lang was listening, she just wasn’t accepting. She was more than willing to give up Dante. She’d miss the hot sex, his youthful energy, his unpredictably and spontaneity, sure, but all that was minor compared to losing the man she believed was her soul mate. She refused to let him just dispose of their marriage like some cheap BIC razor.

“I won’t do it, Minah,” Lang said defiantly. “I’ll give up Dante, but I won’t confront Sean. If he hasn’t said anything by now, maybe he’s just dealing with it.”

“Fine,” Aminah said, climbing into her truck. “Live your life, girl.”

Lang watched as Aminah drove off, figuring she was probably going back to the hotel to drink some more designer water and soak in another fragrant bubble bath. Lang wasn’t ready to go home yet either. She told the valet to keep her car a little while longer.

Lang thought about Sean’s moods and actions over the last few days on her cold, brisk walk through DUMBO.
On Thanksgiving, Sean’s stomach was still acting up,
she recalled.
And he made a big deal about being able to keep his word. I didn’t know what the hell he was getting at.

Lang remembered cleaning on Saturday without Sean, figuring maybe he’d had an early game or something. Saturday night she’d tried to make love to him, but he wasn’t in the mood. Said he was too tired. She assumed it was his stomach and suggested he see his doctor. He’d said it was fine and that in fact his appetite was on the rebound.

Don’t worry, Sean,
Lang thought as Dante buzzed her into his building.
I’m gonna fix it
.
I just gotta do this my way, baby. Just hold tight.

Lang exited Dante’s private elevator. He’d keyed her up and rushed back over to his waiting sofa. The Philadelphia Eagles were putting a hurting on the New York Giants, and he didn’t want to miss a single snap.

Lang unzipped her Etu Evans leather boots and propped them on the bamboo mat to the left of the elevator. She slid off her trouser socks and removed the plastic Saran Wrap she’d asked the manicurist to put on for extra anti-smudge protection.

“D, my husband knows about us,” Lang said, collapsing into Dante’s chest.

“Word, how?” Dante asked, rubbing Lang’s back as she lay between his legs.

“He overheard me talking to you on the phone.”

“When?” Dante asked, sitting up.