Bad Blood (24 page)

“I think I'd better get going.” I glanced at my watch. I couldn't wait to get home so I could organize my thoughts. I felt like a damn fool! Janet had not been hearing imaginary voices, after all!

“Don't forget to get you some mustard greens. It's the booth right by the exit on Grove Street.”

“I will. It was nice seeing you again.” I dragged my feet toward the exit. I looked back and smiled and waved at Sister Beulah.

“I'm going to pray for Seth,” she hollered, shaking her head. “Otherwise that boy is going to mistreat the wrong person and end up cooking his own goose.”

“He already has,” I said to myself.

Chapter 46

Seth

D
ARLA AND
I
HAD BEEN MARRIED FOR ONLY TWO MONTHS WHEN
she told me what I'd been waiting to hear again for years: I was going to be a father.

It was a day that I would never forget, and for more reasons than one. First of all, when Darla came to the office that Friday evening in November to give me the good news, I was so ecstatic, I insisted on taking her out to dinner.

“I am too excited to get any more work done today!” I hollered. “We'll have a wonderful time tonight.”

“But, honey, I thought you were going to have dinner with a client,” she said. She had never looked more beautiful than she looked at this moment. Her cheeks had a rosy glow, and her eyes sparkled like diamonds.

“Sweetheart, my client can wait another day,” I told Darla. I delicately wrapped my arms around her waist. “My baby is having my baby, and there is no way I'm going to put off celebrating a day longer.”

I took her to Bridges, one of the most popular restaurants in the Bay Area. We spent two hours enjoying our seafood selections and a bottle of nonalcoholic wine. I wanted a double shot of Jack Daniel's, but since I was driving and Darla couldn't join me in a toast, I didn't have it. When we left the restaurant and got to my car, I wished that I had had that drink, after all. Somebody had slashed the hell out of all four of my tires!

For the rest of the evening, I spewed more profanities than a drunken sailor. The road service representative I called, who had taken over an hour to arrive, blushed every time I opened my mouth. “I'm sick of these low-life, cock-sucking motherfuckers!” I yelled. “Them keying my fucking car was bad enough! Now this!”

“Honey, I just called the police,” Darla said in a soft voice.

“Shit! Like those bastards can do anything!” I hollered, glaring at the road service guy. “All they are going to do is write up a fucking report.”

And that was all the cops did when they arrived half an hour later. When they asked if I had upset somebody recently, somebody who would take it out on me by vandalizing my vehicle, I told them no. At the same time, I wondered who could have done such a thing. Then it hit me like a sledgehammer: Rachel. She had every reason in the world to be pissed off at me to the point where she'd want to make me suffer. But I kept that thought to myself. For one thing, I had no proof. I thought about calling her and accusing her, but she was the last person I wanted to talk to these days. Besides that, if she was not the person responsible for the vandalism, my accusation would anger her more, and then she might do something even worse than what I'd experienced so far. My main concern was what she was going to do next, if anything. I just prayed that it wouldn't be something too severe. I could live with a keyed car and even slashed tires. If she didn't do anything to harm me or my family physically, I would let everything run its course. I was convinced that as long as I didn't react, or fuel the flames, so to speak, she'd eventually get tired and leave me alone. I hoped . . .

My tires had been slashed so severely, repairing them on the spot was not an option. My car had to be towed. I couldn't reach any of my family or friends, so Darla and I had to take a cab home. To my horror, when the driver stopped in front of our house and I attempted to pay the fare with my Visa, the transaction was declined.

“What the hell do you mean it got
declined,
sir? Do you even know how to process a fucking credit card?” I screamed at the Middle Eastern cabdriver.

Darla scrambled out of the cab. I had vented my frustrations all the way home from the restaurant, making her flinch. From the look on her face, she was just as upset as I was. My rage added to her distress.

“That credit card has a zero balance! Run it through again, sir.” The cabdriver, looking more bored than anything, did as I instructed. “Meester, dis card is no good. Do you haf a nudder one?”

I was so enraged, my hands were shaking. I snatched my credit card out of the cabdriver's hand and slid it back into my wallet. I had changed wallets earlier that day and had not transferred everything. My other three credit cards were still in my other wallet, and I had only a few bucks on me.

“I got it,” Darla said, already handing the driver a wad of bills through the front passenger window. “Keep the change,” she told him with a smile. That made him smile, but it only angered me more. I stormed into the house, still cussing.

I immediately called the credit card's twenty-four-hour customer service telephone number. You could have knocked me over with a Q-tip, because I was not prepared for what the dude on the other end told me. “Sir, this card was reported stolen earlier this evening.”

My first thought was that the representative had entered the wrong number into the bank's system. “Bullshit! That can't be true! I paid for dinner with this card this evening, and it was fine then.” I gave the man my credit card number again and made him repeat it back to me.

A few moments later he told me, “I'm sorry, sir. This credit card was reported stolen about an hour and a half ago. It's been canceled.”

“The hell it was! I did not call and report this card stolen an hour and a half ago! You reactivate my card immediately, or I
will
cancel my account right here and now!”

“Sir, please accept my sincere apology. Apparently, it was an error on our part. But since the card has already been canceled and a new one will be mailed to you within three to five business days, it's not possible to reactivate the card you have in your possession now.”

I slammed the telephone down as hard as I could. “That's why I hate all this automated shit!” I yelled, loosening my tie as I paced back and forth like a caged lion.

“Sit down, honey. You don't want to walk a hole in this new carpet. And don't make such a big deal out of a little credit card problem. I'm sure it was an honest mistake. These credit card companies will hire anybody these days,” Darla said, leading me to the couch. “Now we have something a lot more important to deal with than your slashed tires and a rejected credit card.” She eased down onto the couch, pulling me by the hand to sit next to her. “I can't wait to tell everybody about the baby. We have so much to be thankful for now.”

Just hearing those words made all the difference in the world. My heart stopped racing, and a smile formed on my face. “You're right, honey. We do have a lot to be thankful for.”

Chapter 47

Rachel

S
ETH WAS SO COCKY, COMPLACENT, AND SELF-ASSURED THAT HE
hadn't even bothered to change the routine he knew I was familiar with. I assumed he had no reason to think he needed to. He probably thought that I was the last thing he needed to be concerned about. He was dead wrong.

I knew more about that no-good dog than any other person he knew, including his parents. I knew where he got his hair cut, and his favorite bars and restaurants. I even knew his AOL screen name and his password. I was surprised that he had not changed it by now. I could log in to his account from any computer in the world. I planned to utilize his information as much as I could before he changed it, if he ever did.

After I had checked my own e-mail, I signed in to Seth's account. I had access to his e-mail, his on-line calendar, his notes, and everything else. I could even order merchandise from his Amazon account, and it would automatically be charged to the credit card he had on file. But I didn't want to do that. I was more interested in other things. I was pleased to see that he still posted his daily schedule and appointments. He updated both on a daily basis. That was how I had found out his new wife was pregnant. That jackass had revealed the information in an e-mail—in one of the boldest fonts in the system—to one of his friends. The message turned my stomach!

I could not believe my burning eyes. The only thing missing from his message was a smiley face. This motherfucker had betrayed me in the worst way, and here he was, giving God credit for his “good life.”

I was glad that he still had some allegiance to God, because he was going to need Him more than ever by the time I got through with him!

Seth used to take me to Bridges at least once a month when we were together. It was one of his favorite restaurants. Because a valet had stolen some CDs out of his car a couple of years ago, he parked his own car now, instead of using the valet service, no matter where he went. I had no trouble locating his car on the street two blocks from the restaurant a few minutes before 7:00 p.m. As I drove slowly along, I saw him and Darla strolling toward the restaurant entrance. I drove around a few minutes more before I parked my car a block from his. Then I casually walked over to where he had parked. I was dressed in dark clothing, and I wore dark glasses and a scarf. My own mother would not have recognized me. It took me just a few minutes to slash all four of the tires with the razor-sharp Ginsu knife I had brought with me.

When I got back to my apartment, I called up the credit card company and reported his card as being stolen. Like I said, Seth was too complacent for his own good, which was a mistake on his part. Since I had paid most of the credit card bills, his and mine, I had copies of his old credit card statements, his pin numbers, his security questions, his Social Security number, and his tax records. I had big plans. I was going to make his life a living hell. I would do it in such a devious, random, and unpredictable way that he would not even suspect me, at least not for a while. Until I was ready for him to know that I was his worst nightmare, I planned to be as subtle as possible. In the meantime, if he mentioned what was happening to him to one of our mutual friends, they wouldn't even suspect me. With that in mind, I decided to wait a reasonably long time before my next attack. I wanted to give Seth just enough time to get comfortable again. His punishment was going to be slow, carefully planned, lengthy, and severe.

 

A week after I had slashed Seth's tires and canceled his credit card, Lucy called me up. She invited me to go on a double date with the bookstore manager whom she had been dating for a few weeks and some dude he had served military time with in Iraq. “I've told Carl all about you, and he's anxious to meet you. You'll like him,” Lucy assured me. “He's just your type.”

“And what is my type?” I asked, only slightly interested in dating anybody at this time.

“I know you like your men big and strong. Well, Carl is into bodybuilding. And, like you, he's into watching old movies, relaxing with a glass of wine, and he loves him some Southern-style cooking. Just like S—” Lucy stopped, but I finished her sentence for her.

“Just like Seth,” I hissed, spitting out his name like vomit.

“Well, Carl's got a few things in common with . . . your ex. But don't let that stop you.”

“If you think I want to get involved with another man like that jackass, you are wrong.”

“I think you need to get out more and stop sitting around that apartment, thinking about what Seth did to you.”

“What makes you think I'm still sitting around, thinking about Seth? I had a life before I met him, and I still have a life.”

“I don't want you to be lonely.”

“I'm alone, not lonely.” I chuckled. “Since you already told your honey's friend about me, I'll go this time. But don't you make this a habit. Your matchmaking history is not too good.”

I went out with Carl Thurman that night, and I saw him a couple of times later in the month. I was not interested in getting back into bed with another man too soon. And when I was ready to sleep with another man, I knew I could always get in touch with Skirt, my old standby. I was not interested in starting up another serious relationship, anyway. Once I made that clear to Carl, he never called me again, and that was fine with me.

In addition to Skirt, I had another option. I went to a housewarming party with my coworker Lonnie Ford. He had been recently hired to replace our boys' phys ed teacher. He was shorter than all the other men I'd dated, but he was in better shape than them all, even Carl the bodybuilder. Lonnie was so health conscious, he inspired me to eat better and get more exercise in no time. We had a great relationship for the next two months and some fairly decent sex.

It would have continued had he not become a pest who thought he could control me. Since we worked at the same place, that made matters worse. Lonnie's office was on the other side of the building, but he came to my area to collect his interoffice mail a couple of times every day. Each time he would poke his head into my office. If somebody was with me, he would wait until they had left so I could give him some attention. One day he strolled into my office while I was on the telephone. He sat and waited ten minutes until I'd hung up, and then he demanded to know who I had been talking to.

“I don't think that's any of your business,” I told him with an incredulous look on my face. “And I think it's very rude of you to walk up in here and see me on the phone and not leave.”

“I just need to know what my woman is up to,” he whined. “I am not going to stand for you keeping any secrets from me and playing me for a fool.”

I stood up and stared at Lonnie in slack-jawed amazement. I could feel my anger rising. I didn't want to cuss him out or display my violent nature and lose my job, so I managed to contain myself. “Well, you won't have to, Lonnie.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“I'm not trying. I
am
telling you something. I don't want to see you again on a personal level. I advise you to leave my office lickety-split. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Oh, you're going to kick me to the curb just like that, huh?”

“You can call it whatever you want, but from now on, we'll just be friends and coworkers, nothing more,” I said firmly and with a smile. “Now, if you don't mind, please leave
now,
or I'll call security.”

Lonnie gasped and turned around to leave so fast, he ran into the wall. From that day on, other than exchanging a casual greeting, all he and I ever did was discuss work.

“You sure are hard-hearted these days,” Lucy mentioned during lunch, when I told her about my “breakup” with Lonnie. “But at least I'm glad that you're finally over Seth.” She sniffed and gave me a guarded look. “I heard his business is booming these days. He's even hired four more people. One is an
Asian
woman. Seth ought to be ashamed of himself, especially with so many black folks out of work!”

“I know his business is booming,” I said flatly.

“Oh? How do you know that? Have you been in touch with him lately?”

“No. I ran into Sister Beulah at the flea market on Ashby one day, and she told me,” I said, with my jaw twitching. “I haven't spoken to him since the last time I told you about.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that. I hope you don't speak to him anytime soon, or ever again, if you don't mind me saying. It'll just upset you, and you're doing so much better now.”

I had “seen” Seth almost every day since the night I slashed his tires. After work and on weekends, I followed him like a shadow. I did it from a distance, and when I had some free time, of course. I wanted my anger to be nice and potent before I made my next move. I planned to wait several months before I went to the next item on my agenda.