Beautiful Liar (2 page)

              Sharron, the concierge, was her usually chipper self.

              “Good morning, Nola!”

              I removed my sunglasses. “Good morning, Sharron.”

              “I have a package for you. It arrived yesterday.” Sharron lifted a box onto her desk. “Looks like shoes.”

              I shook my head. “Nope. Make up.”

              Sharron pressed her lips together and smirked, “It’s usually shoes. I bet you have a lot of shoes you don’t wear anymore. You need to just go on ahead and pass them to me.”

              I shrugged, “Ok.”

              “No, but I’m serious!” she exclaimed.

              “I’m serious, too,” I replied nonchalantly.

              “You would do that?”

              “Yes, crazy girl. It’s not a big deal.”

              Sharron clapped her hands and leaped, causing her curls on her blonde wig to bounce.

              “Thanks, Nola! Oh… and…” She spun around to a table sitting to her left and retrieved a stack of envelopes that was placed next to a floral arrangement. “There’s one more thing,” she said as she handed them to me.

              I shuffled through them quickly. Nothing but a bunch of junk mail and credit card bills.

              “I had the mail man to leave them here just as you instructed.”

              “Thanks,” I said as I motioned to the floral arrangement. “For suite 1020?”

              Sharron rolled her eyes and replied, “You know it.”

              “Lucky wench,” I sighed. “He must be away on business.”

              “Or feeling sorry.”

              “No… he sends gardenias when he’s sorry.  Those are tulips. He misses her.”

              Sharron smacked her teeth, “Well he must really miss her, because he just sent some earlier this week… white roses.”

              “Wedding anniversary.”

              “What? Ok… yeah, she must be a good friend of yours.”

              I ripped the envelopes. “Never formally met her, but I’ve lived here going on three years. Seen her reaction, and her husband keeps it predictable. The same flowers are designated for a particular occasion.”

              Sharron stuck her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag.

              At that, I said, “I think it’s a sweet a gesture. Especially how he does it. You can tell he loves her dearly. He appreciates her being in his life, and accepts her for who she is.”

              With a look of confusion, Sharron replied, “And, you learned all of this based on the flowers this man delivered? You sure you don’t know these people?”

              I laughed. “Here. Shred these.”

***

              Trav was home, and I was surprised. The aroma of bacon greeted my nostrils as soon as I keyed into our apartment. Our dining table held a few dozen red roses and a table setting for two. Pancakes, grits, and bacon were plated neatly. He was naked under his apron, wearing nothing but his Cartier wrist watch, which wasn’t so surprising. Trav, a very arrogant and sexual man, was standing at ease with a smirk on his face. He was failing at trying to ameliorate the damage he had caused about a year ago. His dark, perfectly chiseled body glowed as if he had just hopped out of the shower and oiled himself down.

              “Is this for me, or am I home too soon?” I asked sarcastically.

              Trav wagged his finger and shook his head. “Good, one. That was a good one.”

              He attempted to help me remove my coat.  I threw my hand up and helped myself, tossing the fur across one of the chairs.

              “I got your voicemails, Nola. You seemed a little stressed out. So, I did this for you, Queen.”

              “Oh,” I replied sarcastically elated. “You ran from your girlfriend’s house to cook me a romantic breakfast? WOW! That’s sweet, Trav.”

              He grabbed my hand, and my ring twinkled and blinked as he lifted my arms before backing me against the wall. His stiffened man-shaft pressed against my waist as he leaned in for a kiss. I turned my head catching his lips with my cheek.

              He backed up. “Maybe it’s the workload. Maybe it’s too much for you to handle. I’m not gonna allow you to put our baby at risk. Take a break from work and focus on becoming a mother.”

              Trav pulled a single rose from behind his back and stroked my face with it. I swatted him and his rose.

              “You’re firing me so
L
from the fourth floor can have my position.”

              Trav looked at his toes, then slowly back at me while rubbing his chin.

              He finally replied, “Not firing you. Just a simple suggestion since you’re pregnant.”

              “We don’t know if I’m pregnant,” I replied.

              “You mentioned something about your period…,” he said with a look that suggested that he was trying to recall our conversation.

              I rolled my eyes. “Irregular periods aren’t always a pregnancy symptom.”

              “Then, why are you seeing your doctor on Tuesday?”

              I smirked. “For the same reason you want me out of the office - to cover my bases.”

              He crooned, “Here we go…”

              “You don’t give a damn if I was pregnant! If you cared you would be here--,” I spat.

              “Lower your voice…,”

              “—The only thing you care about is hiding soon-to-be Mrs. Travis Beaumont from the company, so that you could play around in your little playground.”

              Trav huffed, “I’m only saying that I make enough to take care of the family.”

              “And, what if I’m not pregnant?” I challenged, with folded arms.

              “You don’t need to work, Nola. You don’t like work.”

              “You’re a hoe.”

              Frustrated with my jabs, Trav threw his hands in the air, slapped them on his head, and blew air from his puffed cheeks.

              “Let’s be honest with ourselves for once, Nola. Okay?” He droned, “You don’t give a damn if I was with another woman.”

              My lips parted, but I didn’t dare deny his accusation.

              “All you care about is that sorority, and spending MY hard earned money,” he said smacking his chest and putting an emphasis on MY.

              “My sorority loves me more than you do. My sorority appreciates me. Initially, no I never wanted your money.”
Until you dangled it in my face
. “I wanted you!”

              Trav spoke calmly and confidently, as assholes usually do, when he said, “I’m a busy man, Nola. If you can’t handle it, there are a sea of women fishing to be in your shoes. I told you this before the first date.”

             
Of course you did, Asshole
. “Had I known you were also busy with skanks, I would have never said ‘yes’ to dating you!” I yelled.

              I wanted to crush Trav’s balls, so bad. Just grip them from underneath his apron. Instead, I snatched the bud of the rose from Trav’s hand and smeared its petals into the floor with the tips of my Louboutin bootie and stormed off.

              “See, you’re being dramatic again, Nola!” Trav called to my back as I picked up my package from downstairs and headed towards our bedroom. “Get some rest. Take a nap. You’ll feel better afterwards,” he said sarcastically.

              I slammed our door without saying another word.

              “Nola. You’re not pregnant. You have gonorrhea.”

              Four hours later, Dr. Keller’s voice still haunted me. Those horrifying words replayed in my head over and over again as I pressed my head against my office window. Outside were shades of cyan and indigo.  Downtown Philadelphia was twenty stories below, coated with yesterday’s snow. The temperature had to be under twenty degrees. The wind howled giving bundled-up pedestrians a beating with its wintry whip. The sun had seemingly taken a personal day off, tucking its beams beneath the puffy clouds. My heart felt colder than that January afternoon.

              Gonorrhea

              My saturated eyelashes barricaded tears that weren’t allowed to crawl. I took a deep breath and massaged my shoulders.
You’re victor, not a victim!
…my father would have said. I swallowed hard, smoothed down my pencil skirt, and then my 3ct diamond engagement ring flickered. The sight of it sent me in a rage. I could have broken my hand with how hard I pounded it against the thick glass...
THUD!
After
THUD
! After
THUD
!

              I should have felt pain, but I was numb. No one heard my loud banging. Even if they could, most of them would have sat stationary, watching with their mouths foaming of malicious satisfaction. Thirsty for more gossip-tea to sip to go along with their daily cubicle prattle of how I “screwed my way to the top and was granted a promotion solely for being the CEO’s future wife” and how I “got my knees dirty to score such a fancy office.”

              Gonorrhea.

              It was a tough pill to swallow - the diagnosis and the antibiotic alike.

              Dr. Keller’s eyebrows wrinkled with concern. “Do you have any idea how you contracted it? …I mean, aside from the obvious.”

              “My fiancé did this,” I replied somberly. I was blindsided by the STD but not the cheating, of course.

              A month after Trav proposed, he stopped coming home. On the mornings he returned, I would listen to his mendacious tales of how stressful traveling for work has become, and how he just wished he could stay home with me and cuddle. One night while he slept, there were several missed calls from a number stored under “L”. When I called “L” back, she disconnected after hearing my voice. Moments later “L” called and revealed that she was a customer service rep from the fourth floor of the firm. Yep. A basic, hourly paid telephone girl.

              It was then that I read the GPS history on his phone and found hotels and restaurants, all of them within a 50 mile radius.
A 50 mile radius!
I immediately created a machination to marry him in spite of my findings, so I could eventually divorce him and snatch everything he owned or even dreamt about owning. I would make his family’s business mine.  But game over by forfeiture.

             
This dirt-bag jeopardized my health,
I thought to myself as my heart continued to freeze from the rage that was building up inside of me. After Dr. Keller broke the news to me at my appointment, I was flabbergasted and unable to think clearly.

              “If you want, we can schedule an appointment now for you both to come in and get him tested,” Dr. Keller suggested.

              I snatched my navy blue Chanel maxi handbag off of the examination table, and harshly replied, “His penis could rot and crumble to the ground.”

I let the trailing sound of my click-clacking Jimmy Choo heels drown out Dr. Keller’s voice as she called for me to come back.

              “Nola…. Nola!”

              I was so gone in my thoughts staring out of the window at nothing in particular, that I hadn’t noticed Marley had let herself in my office. She was carrying two plastic bags with platters of Pad Thai and Khao Pad.
Dammit, I knew I would forget about Thai Tuesday this week.
Anyway, it was something she made up months ago when she discovered we worked just a few blocks from each other.

              Marley chirped from behind me, “It’s beautiful to view, but Lord knows it’s a monster to endure. That walk was brutal…Get over here. Let’s say grace!”

              Before I turned around, I pasted on the biggest smile I could borrow for the next forty-five minutes and hid my problems in the back corners of my mind. I winced when Marley’s cold hands clasped tightly onto mine, awakening the pain I should have felt moments ago. Her cheeks were rouge, her nose and ear lobes were a winter-kissed pink, and the turquois knit scarf that I bought her for Christmas clung to her chin and neck. She was a pastor’s kid but not at all troubled like the stereotype holds.  She rarely did anything without a prayer first.

              Marley was a naturally beautiful young girl.  She was pretty and book smart, which is why I didn’t mind having her around and being her mentor. However, she was also naturally plain, wearing only neutral colors and barely any makeup unless I coaxed her to add a bit here or there. If her hair wasn’t pulled up in that awful bun, then it was worn flat like it was that past Saturday, sweeping only the top of her shoulders. Since we were like the sisters that neither one of us had, on occasion I’d treat her to my stylist and doll her up with extensions that resembled my God-given and panache mane.

              She dished out our lunch and without bothering to remove her coat, she plopped into the chair opposite of mine.

              “Oh! And, please don’t get on me about my hair,” she begged, patting her messy bun. “It was a rough morning.”

             
Talk about it.
“You get a pass today. At least there isn’t lint in it,” I said.

              I reached into my drawer for a stack of napkins that she didn’t ask for as usual. She was a pretty girl, but she ate like a warthog. Marley grabbed the napkins and nearly knocked down a framed picture of my baby brother as she pulled her arm back.  She was also clumsy.

              “So, how’s the wedding planning?” was her typical conversation starter, but I hated that she asked today.

My eyes never left my plate as I murmured, “Fine.”

“Fine?” She dropped her fork and genuinely asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” I replied, trying to add more life to my voice.

Marley begged, “Aw come on, tell me.”

I would never.

I looked her in the eye - because for some odd reason, people thinks it’s impossible to lie looking directly at a person.  It’s not hard to do at all when it’s practiced with your father who happens to be a prominent criminal defense attorney.

              I told her, “Everything is good aside from a little bit of wedding jitters - normal stuff.”

“              Already? The wedding isn’t for another year… and a half,” she said as if she knew I was hiding something.

              “The planning - I keep bumping heads with my coordinator. I need to fire her,” I lied.

              Marley gave me a slow nod. Just as she parted her lips to probably badger me some more, there was a knock on the office door followed by the knob twisting.

              It was Trav. Marley perked up at the sight of him. To her and to everyone as a matter of fact, he was perfect. He was tall, dark… very dark, comely, stylish - always clad in Boogi-Milano suits and Hermes ties – and fiscally successful. He was a bossed-up realtor who used to spoil me with attention and affection. He was the same knight who snatched my title of Intern and labeled me lead Marketing Coordinator for Beaumont Real Estate, the soon to be franchise.

              Shortly after we began dating, Trav put me in his condo, a high-rise nestled in that famous big blue building that scrapes the central city sky. He supported my addiction to designer EVERYTHING, and he kept me for almost 3 years before he proposed. To most, we were a power couple, but in reality, only he had the power. Without him, I was simply a 28-year-old college graduate with mommy’s, daddy’s, and granddaddy’s money and a little bit of my own. To Marley, I was the epitome of where she wanted to be and who she wanted to become within nine years. However, she had no clue.  None of my sorors had a clue.

              Marley beamed and said, “We were just talking about you! Well, not you per se but the wedding.”

              Trav nodded with effrontery, and I nearly spat fire. The sight of him boiled me.

              “Marley could you excuse us for a minute?” I asked while rapidly tapping my fork against my plate as a method of anger containment.

              As soon as Marley shut the door behind her, Trav opened his arms for an embrace. I tapped my fork and continued to pierce his with my icy stare.

              He finally dropped his arms and said, “Well… what’s up? Are you pregnant or not?”

              “No, I’m not, but I hope L and all these other women know how dirty you are.”

              “Nola, let’s not do this here.”

              Right then, my fork became a dart, and his head was the target. Unfortunately, he ducked. I leaped forward, reaching for Marley’s fork. Our platters crashed to the floor, and he raced over gripping both the fork and my wrist. He squeezed so hard that the veins in my hand rose.

              “Have you lost your mind? Do you know what I could do to you?” he spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re lucky if I don’t choke the life out of you!”

              I spit on him.  A thick, gooey wad of phlegm smacked him in the area between his nose and the top of his lip. He jerked away almost slipping backwards on Pad Thai.

Trav seethed, “You nasty, cunt!” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, “YOU’RE FIRED!”

              He nearly knocked Marley down as he flew out of my office and charged down the hall. She was alarmed as she stood with her mouth wide open while she watched Trav disappear.

              “What in the world just happened?!”

              I grabbed my purse and my coat. “I’m driving you to your office.”

              “Is everything ok?” Marley asked, still trying to make sense of the mess.

              “Everything is perfect. Work just has him stressed.”

              Marley’s eyes fell to the Pad Thai mess. She wailed, “But, what happened to my lunch?!”