Beautiful Liar (17 page)

              Less than thirty minutes later, I was on Silas’s bed. He was the only one who picked up my call. I only had enough time to slip on a plain white T-shirt and jeggings before he arrived. My hair didn't stand a chance, and at that point, I didn't care. He ran to a pharmacy by his home, scooped me up, got us some Thai take-out, and drove us to his laidback, regular house out in the Mt. Airy section of Philly. I was surprised that he came. Thought he was still mad at me. Instead, he spoke to me as if our altercation never happened. He was only concerned with my fight with Alicia and the following details.

              When I got in the car, he touched my cut and kissed it. Kind of like a father would do. I smiled. The frustration and boiling anger I felt for Walter Victor lifted from my spirit and evaporated above our heads. That's when I knew that Silas and I were good. I didn't know what to expect when I hopped in his Infinity, but I was desperate and prepared for an argument. Nothing was worse than being trapped inside the house with my father. When Silas pressed his lips against my bruised eye, I knew he wasn’t going to bring up Wednesday. Not a drop of grudge tainted this man’s tall muscular body. Then again, how could it when his mother is wickeder than Maleficent? He has forgiven even her.

              He had two dozen fully bloomed white carnations waiting for me in his bedroom. He split the flowers into two vases on each side of his bed, where we sat directly in front of each other while he aided me.

              "It looks like she got you with her wedding ring. You gonna press charges?" Silas asked while he dapped me with peroxide.

              "Yeah, right. Walter Victor is her key witness."

              "I'll make it better." I watched Silas’s mouth moved and his jaw flexed as he pressed down on the gauze.

              He was taking good care of me, but it was hard for me to feel completely appreciative; I wanted Ronnie. I wanted his hands. I wanted to be with
him
on his bed not Silas’s. The only reason we were up there was because his downstairs area was being renovated. Otherwise, we'd be on his couch where it would be less tempting... I suppose.

              He wadded up the bandage wrappers, tossed them in his trash basket, left me in his room for a few minutes, and returned with a light pink boa and an easel. He also brought with him that familiar slanted sinister grin from Hightower’s Diner. "I want your body. I want it raw."

              I nearly choked, "You are THE raunchiest Christian I know!"

              He set up his easel and canvas and opened a large kit that looked like rolling luggage. It was filled with pastels, colored pencils, paints, and all other kinds of art junk.

              "Not in a sexual way," Silas reassured as he aligned his supplies onto his tray. "…yet."

              He tossed me the boa. “Take off your shirt.”

              Something about the look in his eyes and the command in his tone turned me all the way on. Still, it wasn't enough to get me to be his artistic subject - not with a bruise between my lid and brow the size and shape of Madagascar. I resisted.

              "Is this what you say to get up a girl's skirt? ‘Let me paint you a portrait?'"

              Silas raised his eyebrow and looked serious when he said, "Usually I don't have to say anything."

              "I don't want you to draw a picture of me. Look at me. My hair isn't fixed. Plus, I look like Spot the pup."

              Silas laughed. The sound of it tickled me. Once he got ahold of himself he said, "Nah... You look... real. I like you better this way."

              I stood up, turned my back towards him, slid off my shirt and bra, and wrapped the boa around my bare shoulders and breast.

              "Turn around," he commanded softly.

              I started towards him. As got I closer, I could hear him breathe. I felt him watching me as I ran my fingers along his kit, closely admiring the hundreds of colors. An unopened bottle of metallic silver body paint attracted me the most. It stood out from all the pastels and all the dull colors. It was desperate for attention and longing for appreciation and respect. Unlike the rest, it couldn't blend in even if it tried. It was surrounded by so many hues, yet alone. I pulled it out and dipped my fingers in it. It was smooth, exotic, soft, yet bold. It was dark yet bright, and it shined as it coated every one of my fingertips, wrapping itself around fluidly dependent on my touch.

              Silas took my wrist, and wedged his fingers between mine. Now the metallic silver coated him too. He wrapped my arms around his neck and gently kissed them as he guided me to straddle his lap. With my breast pressed against his chest, I could feel his rapid heartbeat through his shirt. He sucked in my bottom lip, then slid his tongue in with ease like liquid. Our body heat rose, and so did self-control. There was metallic silver on his face, my waist, my tights, his pants, his bare chest, and my bare thighs. Then it transferred to his sheets as I laid with his pillowcase gathered between my teeth. There was a metallic silver mess all over our sweaty naked bodies all afternoon and into the evening. We only rested to catch our breath and start again.

***

              The jarring ringtone I used for Ronnie caught my attention while I was on top of Silas. My phone vibrated against the vase of carnations and when I reached for it, Silas locked his hands on my waist.

              “Yo... Whoever it is…they can wait.”

              I looked down at him and tried so hard to regain focus, but I couldn’t - not when Ronnie was ringing my phone. It was as if something clicked and I didn’t even want to be there anymore. I felt ashamed, dirty, and guilty. I released Silas’s grip and climbed off. I grabbed my clothes, my phone, rushed into his bathroom and answered just in time.

              “Ronnie.”

“Nola, sorry I missed your call earlier. It got hectic for me all day. You won’t believe I’m checking my phone for the first time since this morning.”

              I smiled at the sound of his voice. “You’re fine.”

              “You good?”

              I looked at my naked self in the mirror. I had a bruised eye, matted hair, paint and sweat on my body, and moist passion between my legs.
No, I’m not alright
. “I had a little situation earlier. I’m cool now.”

              “Alright cool. By the way, I’m in your neck of the woods.”

              I almost rose my voice, “Are you??”

              “The God’s Tabernacle Worship Center.”

              “Oh. Never heard of it,” I said while slipping on my jeggings.

              “I’m guest speaking tonight. Come out. It starts at six. And, anyway, you owe me for forcing me in that wing joint.”

              I glanced at the time on the phone. I had only about 1 hour and 30 minutes to get decent and cute. That was not enough time.

              “I really wish I could I’m just tied up. How about we grab a bite to eat afterwards? Your pick and my treat...”

              Ronnie took a moment before he responded. “I don’t think I can handle a late night. I have Sunday worship service in the morning.”

              His rejection burned me. “Right… I understand.”

              Silas was sitting on the edge of his bed with just his boxers on, and his face was buried in his hands. He picked his head up when he felt my presence. “I feel bad…”

“Me too.” I feel like I cheated.

              “God’s conviction… It’s real isn’t it?”

              “Yeah, sure is.” Whatever that means.

              “I’m sorry, what? Who did you say this was?”

              I took the phone off my ear and looked at the phone number on the screen. It didn’t look familiar, and it didn’t help that the hooded dryer I was sitting under made it difficult for me to hear.

              “Can you hear me now, Sister Nola? I said this is Deaconess Michelle Camper from Worship Way Baptist Church. You joined over a month ago in April. And well, it’s June now. We haven’t seen you in any of the new members’ classes. I don’t believe I’ve seen you at church in the mornings either. I was just checking to see how you were doing, if you had any concerns, or if there’s anything you may need help with.”

              Although the deaconess’s tone was very warm and affectionate, sounding as if she did genuinely care where I’ve been, I was pretty sure that she was simply list checking for the books. I’ve had to do the same for our chapter when members would take a hiatus. Nine times out of ten, I could care less about the soror’s absence. Surely, they had a pretty good reason for why they’ve been m.i.a. It wasn’t my business to care nor was it to pry. I only wanted the numbers.

              Delilah walked over and patted my perm rods. My hair must have been dry, because she invited me back to her station.

              “You know what Ms. Deaconess Michelle Camper, I’ve been so busy with work that the classes slipped my mind. I do apologize,” I explained while I gathered my purse and magazine and sat in Delilah’s chair. “Are those classes really required? I just don’t see how I could fit something like that into my crazy schedule.”

              I needed my weekends free. Pursuing Ronnie while keeping Silas busy was beginning to feel like a full-time gig plus overtime. It had been two and a half weeks since that day Silas and I were intimate. Since then, avoiding him became more difficult than dodging the credit card bill collectors who just recently figured out my parents mailing address and telephone number. Lucky enough they hadn’t done any pop-ups, unlike Silas who had become infamous for that. So far, his gestures had been sweet, though, which made it increasingly difficult to snap on him for his random house runs. I couldn’t turn down a man who doted tickets to the zoo for Dominic and me or reservations to a paint and wine class. Unfortunately, a few days ago, he popped up and I was with Ronnie at a cigar lounge in Philly. My lips were cuffing a Bolivar, and Silas’s lips were probably poked out and pouting as he read my text message: “I’m out. Not coming home anytime soon.”

              “Well, Sister Nola, to be an official member of Worship Way, the classes
are
required. Afterwards you will receive the right hand of fellowship, and then move right into joining a ministry. I can’t force you to take these classes. I can only recommend them.” The Deaconess’s voice was still warm and friendly. “How about this... You’re paperwork reads that you live in Wilmington. So do I. If you would like, we could meet and do this one on one and get you caught up. I really want you to experience the full fellowship with the Lord, Nola. It’s nothing like allowing God to use you and guide you. You don’t want to be a person who only shows up to church. Be a part of the family.”

              Deaconess Michelle’s persuasion crept over my shoulders and hugged me from behind as Dominic would when he wanted to whisper his appreciations for me in my ear. The word “family” made my heart smile, reminding me that if I wanted Ronnie to be my husband, he would become my family along with his entire church. I would be their Leading Lady - representative of all the Worship Way women. I would be their go-to. Deaconess Michelle didn’t know it yet, but I didn’t need those classes to be officially a part of the family. What I needed was a certain signed document and a shiny 3.5 ct. diamond ring. I turned down the offer, and the deaconess gracefully ended the call.

              “Goodness. What is with you and your girl being on the phone with church people when y’all sit in my chair?” Delilah was halfway through unraveling my rods. “How can I be nosey about what’s going on in your life if ya’ll always the phone?” She smiled at me through the mirror and flipped her fire engine red hair.

              “Marley?”

              Delilah nodded.

              “How often does she come here anyway?”

              “Just about as often as you… She brought one of her bridesmaids a few days ago… the heavyset girl. She invited me to the surprise shower.”

              I swung around to face her. “And you better not go!”

              “If you don’t turn your butt around! I almost snapped my fingers on this perm rod.” Delilah spun my seat.

              “They’re messy, Delilah.” I went on, eyeing her through the floor length mirror. “Hating heifers…”

              “Marley hired me to do their hair for the wedding.”

              “Hell no!” I shouted loud enough to be heard over the blow dryers and the classic R&B mix playing from the hanging flat screen. A few ladies sitting in the waiting area behind me, lifted their heads up from their magazines.

              Delilah slapped my arm with her comb and giggled.

              “Cut it out! What’s wrong with you? That’s your girl.”

              “It’s those nasty bridesmaids. They didn’t invite me to the shower.”

              A look of disgust swept Delilah’s face. “Why not?”

              “They hated on me from the minute they met me. They’re the miserable type who can’t stand being around people who are better than them.”

              “That’s petty.”

              “She’ll have to find a new stylist for them. I’ll pay you if she gave you a deposit. Just trust me. They’ll trash your reputation and give you a bad review over one uneven curl.”

              “Oh I don’t do uneven anything. I slay!”

              “Delilah, you know what I mean. Don’t do it, and you definitely can’t go to the shower.”

              “That’s petty that they didn’t send you an invite.” Delilah fluffed and teased my hair intensely as she continued, “I know you’re going anyway.”

              “Of course I am!”

              “And, I wanna go too! I like Marley. She’s a sweetheart, and she got it going on to be so young! Man, if I was where she is when I was twenty… Girl! I’d be a killing. I mean, I’m a killing now, but let me tell you. This wouldn’t be my only shop.”

              “Excuse me? Where’s your loyalty? I’ve been coming to you for how long? 10 years!”

              Delilah laughed, “What does that have to do with anything?”

              “You’re not going. Plus, I don’t want you in the middle of that drama. I’m protecting you.”

              Delilah snapped her head back and puffed her cheeks trying hard to restrain laugher. Little did she know, she was beginning to piss me off and with each giggle, a dollar was being deducted from her usual hefty tip.

              “Fine,” she gave in. “I’ll just take her out to eat.”

              “That won’t even be necessary. She easily forgives. She’s not tough at all.”

              Delilah passed me a hand mirror and turned the chair so I could assess the back of my hair. She hadn’t listened to a word I said.

              “We went to Derek’s the other night.” Delilah looked like a light bulb went off in her head. “I’ll take her there!”

              I scowled, “You both been hanging out?”

              “Only once…. No, no twice. Yeah, twice. Both were after her appointment. She’s my last client for the night and that poor girl’s stomach is always growling by the time we’re through.”

              I rolled my eyes and continued checking my hair, keeping my thoughts to myself.

              Hanging out with my stylist now. Marley was on the roll. What else was she going to take, my baby brother?