Blow Your Mind (23 page)
Authors: Eric Pete
“You need help . . . whoever you are. I’m ashamed to have you as my wife.”
“That’s it. Kick Bianca to the curb. I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen. Calls herself being in love. At least I kept her from being burdened with a baby by somebody like you.”
“What are you saying?” He snapped the phone shut, ending his conversation.
I grinned, pointing between his legs. “Your low sperm count. Apparently that didn’t stop Rory. Bitch must have been ovulating when you hammered her. Hmm. Or maybe he’s not even yours. Definitely a pro.”
“What did you do?”
“Shhh. Bianca might hear.” I giggled. “Maybe I’ve had some freedom a little longer than she suspects. Amazing what you can find on the Internet to kill the fishies. Stuff that looks just like your daily vitamins.”
“You . . .” He clenched his fists.
“You thought I’d let you get Bianca pregnant so you can leave her and her daughter again?”
“Again?”
“What?”
“You said ‘again.’ ”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes. You did. And you said ‘daughter.’ ”
“I . . . I. Oh.”
I stumbled, on the receiving end of what Bianca went through when I asserted myself. I could hear her . . . feel her rage as our memories swirled and coalesced. Tanner took advantage, on me before I could regain control. Trapped in a bear hug, I felt the air being squeezed out of me. My ribs ached. Lungs burned. I gasped from the constriction. He tightened, like he intended to kill me.
I pleaded with Bianca to wait.
And bit Tanner’s nose.
My teeth sank down to the cartilage and bone. He yelped, relinquishing his grip as crimson flowed onto the now-ruined shirt. When he turned his back to me, I dove forward. In the blink of an eye, I wrapped my hand around his tie, coiling it around his neck in a less than proper way. A designer noose, not by design. The two of us spun madly, a whirling dervish of hate locked to the death.
If he hadn’t been so concerned about his nose, he could’ve flipped me off. By waiting, I’d cut off most of his air. I wrapped the tie tighter in my hand, held on . . . waiting. Praying was for those with hope. Bianca would’ve done that. I was born from a lack of hope.
His breathing labored, he ceased trying to unseat me. Instead, his fingers tried digging into the rare space between flesh and fabric, hoping to find some slack. None found, he dropped to one knee with me still aboard his back.
His wheezing evident, I pulled and twisted more. I’d gotten one foot into his back to give me leverage and now had his head bent back at an unnatural angle. He tried to reach for me, but was unable. I allowed myself a smile as I imagined a great beast felled.
The group of men in white outfits who poured into the apartment robbed me of my satisfaction. They looked like hospital orderlies, except larger and more stoic. I was quickly pried off Tanner, then sedated with a needle. Spent from the day’s events, both I and Bianca gave in to its effects.
“Get her out of here! Now!” I heard Tanner gasp as fresh air returned to his lungs.
36
HENRY
“Somebody went off on his muthafuckin’ ass. Kna’mean?”
“Yeah. I do,” I answered the young onlooker. We gathered across the street, held at bay by police tape. The street itself was filled with a convergence of police cars, fire engines, and news vans whose telescopic antennas scraped the heavens. The burned, smoking remains of a house in this part of town was big news. This house, though, held particular significance.
Mr. Reyes was amenable once again, providing me his old four-door Mercury to make the trip. After Pumpkin’s cryptic message, I had to see with my own eyes. The blocked streets, a ball of flame peering over their tree line, were a good indication that I was unprepared. Still I pressed on, intent on being a witness. Close up, the level of devastation was frightening, impressive even, considering the single person who had wrought it.
Next to the burned-out SUV, the coroner had retrieved a semicharred body from the wreckage. I strained to recognize the person it used to be.
“You with the news or sumthin’?” the lanky boy at my side asked. He had to be in his early teens. Probably knew everything that took place on this block.
“No,” I replied, giving him as little as possible.
“Oh.”
My attire, although casual for this evening, set me apart from the neighborhood. Mere nights ago I was afraid to be in Hunter’s Green. A shame in that it was the place I’d grown up. Something I wasn’t apt to share. Now, what I’d seen and experienced beyond its boundaries was enough to reshape my perspective.
As the lyrics go, “It’s not where you’re from, it’s where you’re at.”
Amazing how a few days can change a person.
“You knew Kash?”
“Used to go to high school with him.”
“Oh. You from around here?”
“Used to be,” I answered. “Docket Street.”
“Get out!”
“I’m serious.”
“Damn. At least someone did good.”
“Not necessarily,” I answered, raising my cast in the air for him to see. “Do you know if he was in there?”
“Yeah. Money . . . I mean . . . my sister Monique told me.”
The two of us exchanged a glance. The fire engine’s flashing red lights reflected off our faces. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She tough. She’ll be a’ight.”
“Good.”
“I’m glad the ghost lady got him.”
I was perplexed until I remembered the fair complexion Pumpkin possessed.
The ghost lady.
She certainly was a phantom.
“Yeah. Me too,” I finally replied.
Pushing their way through the lines, two of the recently unemployed—Kash’s thugs—bumped into us. As I turned around, they glanced back, recognizing me.
I stopped breathing.
They gave a nod, signaling we had no further dealings, then pressed on.
I would’ve watched them longer, just in case, except a reporter was also milling about. I’d seen her before. Usually did big exposés on channel six. Coming upon us, she asked, “Do either of you know what happened? Maybe know a gentleman they call ‘Kash’?”
“Naw,” my friend answered.
“Never heard of him,” I answered.
She lingered on me. I was a terrible liar. Sensing that the bigger story was still out there, she smartly moved on.
I’d overstayed my welcome. My curiosity sated, I wished the boy well, then left before I became a caption.
There was one final trip before I returned Mr. Reyes’s car.
The guardrail restored, I stood with a foot atop it. On some weird urge, I returned to the spot where two lives diverged. I wondered what had happened before I’d followed her out here, but heeded her warning.
Things must’ve been strained between Coleman and her to have brought on the strangeness. But my addiction and irrational hatred toward her husband had sufficiently snuffed anything further between us.
A final fleeting look at the river that bisected this town and I returned to the car. I had a long road ahead of me.
I hoped Pumpkin would, if she were unable to forgive me, at least know happiness.
37
LAST WEEK
“Be here at nine.”
“Okay. I will.”
“And you know what I want you to wear?”
“Of course, Tanner. Have I ever let you down?”
“No, you haven’t,” Tanner obliged.
“And I won’t tonight.”
I was going to do him one better. I was going to arrive at his office early.
My bath out of the way, I quickly applied the vanilla-and-bergamot body butter I’d bought from Neiman Marcus. After rubbing it in from head to toe, I threw a dash of body glitter across my chest.
Getting all toned, glistening, and smelling good was only half my preparation.
The door across my bedroom was the other part. In the massive walk-in closet was where my secrets dwelled. All the tricks Tanner required to keep his interest up.
In the far corner, almost unnoticed amongst the rows of garments and shoes, was a special section.
I walked over to it, sifting through the assortment of clothes and costumes Mrs. Tanner Coleman wouldn’t be caught dead in.
Normally.
I held the corset against my body, psyching myself up for what I had to do. As I squeezed into it, my breasts thrust upward as if erupting out the top. The black stilettos and garters added to the scandalous nature, but the finishing touches had yet to reveal themselves.
Tanner had a fondness for long hair, something he’d expressed to me shortly after we were married. I preferred my style and, not wanting the tediousness of a weave, found another option for these times.
In a tiny alcove rested a mannequin head, from which I carefully removed the affixed wig. Its long strands flowing over the bare skin of my shoulders, I was pleased with the fit. Mirror in hand, I adjusted it until only a trained expert could tell it wasn’t a part of me. The small plastic case, almost unnoticed, was equally important. I opened it and removed the contact lenses one at a time. They were colored—a shade lighter than my normal brown.
Once they were inserted, I blinked, then took another look as my vision adjusted.
Perfect.
Almost like another person.
“Yes, indeed,” I said playfully to the image I no longer recognized. I still didn’t have a name for her. One day I’d have to come up with one.
Maybe something naughty
, I thought with a blush.
Maybe something naughty
, I thought with a blush.
Grabbing my trench coat, I went out into the miserable weather.
Half-naked and simply wanting to please my husband.
At Tanner’s building, the darkness was disconcerting. I should’ve called Tanner, let him know I was here, but I was a big girl. Taking the private elevator, I tried dispelling the troubling mood plaguing me. Something was familiar about it, though. It reminded me of the dreams I’d been experiencing. The ones I couldn’t remember, but that left me ill at ease once I was jarred from my sleep.
The elevator opened. As soon as I disembarked, I was besieged by memories of my childhood.
My Molly Wonder doll was missing. My dad said I didn’t need her. That was what he told me before putting me to bed. I didn’t need Molly. Down the dimly lit hall, I walked toward the closed door. Their bedroom.
No. I walked toward Tanner’s office. Past the empty receptionist desk and into the work area in back. Tanner was waiting for me. Just down the hall.
Or was it the hallway at my old house? And where was Molly Wonder? She was still missing. And I’d gone in search of her.
Dizzy, I paused to dispel whatever was happening. I was a grown woman now. Not a child. After a deep breath, I proceeded. When I reached his door, I undid the trench coat and flung it aside. Another night of sexual fulfillment for Tanner was at hand.
You are sexy, you are confident, you are hot
, I reinforced as I turned the door handle.
, I reinforced as I turned the door handle.
I cracked it. And my world fractured.
Tanner . . . Tanner was busy. With someone.
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