Family of Lies (4 page)

I
HAD KISSED A LOT OF FROGS ALONG THE WAY.
I
T HAD BEEN FUN BECAUSE
I loved men and I loved sex. A few times I had even fallen in love—but usually with men who had less than me and small dicks. Well, there was no chance in hell that I was going to settle for
that.
I learned from my mistakes. It didn’t take long for me to decide that good money was a lot more important to me than good sex.

I promptly developed a routine I was comfortable with. I socialized
only
with wealthy older men. And to get what I wanted, I was willing to spread my legs as many times as I had to. I ate at the most expensive restaurants, my sugar daddies paid the rent on my cute little apartment, I rarely had to pay the note on my three-year-old Thunderbird out of my own pocket, and I shopped in the finest boutiques.

The more I learned, the more prudent I became in everything I did. But I still ran into a lot of obstacles anyway. One childless retired doctor, who had lost his wife to cancer, hired me to be his live-in caretaker. He was a dirty old man, so seducing him on the first night I moved in was a walk in the park. Less than a minute after I’d lowered my head down into his flabby, naked crotch, he immediately began to howl and yip like he had never been with a woman before in his life.

In less than a month, I had him right where I wanted him. He gave me a credit card and the keys to his Cadillac, which he was no longer able to drive anyway. I got so slap happy I did everything he asked me to do no matter how unpleasant it was. And there was nothing more disgusting than having to remove his diaper every time he wanted to have sex or get his dick sucked. He began to drop hints that he was going to make sure I was “well taken care of” when he passed. He was so frail and senile I expected to collect on my investment and be on easy street by the end of that year. When he went to sleep one night a week before Christmas and didn’t wake up the next morning, I was elated. But my euphoria was short-lived.

Come to find out, that old goat was in debt up to his receding hairline. His creditors and the IRS took his house and everything in it. I had given up my apartment to move in with the retired doctor, and when he died and left me nothing, I had to move back in with Cynthia until I found another mark. But that didn’t take long. A month later I was up and running again when I got a job as a waitress in the restaurant in a private gentlemen’s club near the Houston airport. I got involved with a mysterious man who had told me up front that if he ever found out I was playing him for a fool, I’d be “real sorry.” I immediately did some snooping around to see what I could find out about him. When I found out that he had beaten one of his previous girlfriends so severely they had to wire her jaw shut and that he had ties to the Jamaican mafia, I hauled ass. Despite the risks involved, my plan was still to find myself a wealthy husband, but I didn’t want to die trying. I decided to search for a man in less threatening environments than gentlemen’s clubs.

When I met Kenneth at a software conference a few months later, I knew I had hit the jackpot.

Since he and I were the only two black people present in a break room after one of the sessions ended, naturally we stood out. I was so glad I had removed the light blue smock that I had been told to wear by the temp agency I had signed up with. I was afraid that if Kenneth found out the only reason I was at the convention was to sign people in and pass out programs and name badges, he wouldn’t have been interested in me.

“I don’t mind attending these events, but I’m getting sick of eating nothing but finger sandwiches, crackers, and spinach dip,” he said as he slid a cracker between his lips, smiling at me like he wanted to put me in his mouth next.

“I hear you. This being the South, you’d think somebody would suggest some fried chicken wings or something that folks like you and me can appreciate.” I smiled and extended my hand. “I’m Vera Thigpen.”

“Kenneth Lomax. And who are you with?” he asked, shaking my hand and squeezing it at the same time. He had a strong grip for a man who appeared to be in his early forties.

“Uh, I worked for a small company in Ft. Worth until they suddenly laid half of us off last month. Since I’d already made plans to be here, well, here I am. I had to pay for it out of my own pocket, though.” Once I started spinning that tale, I knew I couldn’t go back to the reception area and do what I was being paid to do.

“Oh. Was it a family-owned business?”

I shook my head.

“Well, I own my own business in California, so getting laid off or fired are two things I don’t have to worry about,” Kenneth said with a triumphant look on his caramel-colored face. He had nice white teeth (capped I presumed) and a strong jawline. Despite his age and thick, graying hair, he was not a bad-looking man at all. Generally speaking, he was tall, dark, and handsome. But there was a noticeable sadness in his small black eyes. He looked lonely and neglected, like a puppy nobody wanted. And if that was the case, he was talking to the right woman. I was elated! A lonely, rich, older man was within my reach and he was interested in me. I was tempted to lick my lips. I would suck his pecker until his balls deflated if I had to. Something told me that I had hit the mother lode, so I had to play my part to the hilt. But before I’d allow myself to get too involved, I had to do some investigating and make sure he was telling me the truth about being the owner of his business. For all I knew, he could have been one of the busboys! I decided to have a friend of mine, who had helped organize the conference, do a background check on this Mr. Lomax. If everything checked out to my satisfaction, then all I needed to know was what obstacles I was up against. Like a wife. Well, that was one thing I decided to ask about right away. I didn’t want to waste too much time on this man and then find out he was married.

“Your being your own boss must make your wife very happy,” I cooed, silently praying that he was divorced or a widower.

Kenneth cleared his throat and shook his head and said something that was even better than what I had prayed for. “I’ve never been married,” he said shyly, his voice cracking. Then his mood changed as if he’d suddenly remembered a bad experience because a sharp frown was on his face now. “I’ve been looking for the right woman all my life, everywhere I go,” he confessed. “I’ve met a lot of nice ladies over the years, but not one I cared enough about to marry. I get pretty lonely.”

“Oh. I know exactly what you mean. I’ve never been married and I’ve had only one boyfriend. Last year, a week after he proposed to me, he died from an undiagnosed blood disease.” I sniffed. “I haven’t dated since.”

“That’s a damn shame, Vera.” I was pleased when Kenneth blinked and looked at me with rapidly increasing interest. “But a pretty girl like you must have lots of admirers.”

“Not really. My shyness turns men off.”

“Hmmm. Well, I think shyness in a beautiful woman is a virtue. It keeps her humble.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some of the other attendees leaving to go into another session. One of the other temp workers, who had also been hired to pass out programs and badges, gave me a puzzled look, so I knew I had to react fast. I needed my job and if I didn’t have a chance with Kenneth, I needed to know that right away.

“Um, I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve had enough of this,” I said with a nervous smile. I nodded toward the exit. “I’m going to head over to Sissy’s Soul Food. Today the special is deep-fried chicken wings, mac and cheese, collard greens, and hush puppies.”

“Is that the greasy little hole-in-the-wall near that bowling alley on Royster Street?”

“You know about Sissy’s?”

“Sure enough! I grew up in Houston. My family used to eat there when I was a little boy! That was one of my favorite restaurants back then.”

I nodded and blinked. “Well, I’m countrified, so I am a fool for everything on their menu. Which is too bad for my hips . . . ,” I mock complained. The minute I said
hips
, his eyes lit up like lightning bugs.

“Well, I’m still a down-home boy to the bone myself. Do you mind if I join you? You are talking about something good to eat.” Kenneth looked at me like I was something good to eat too. I was so glad I had worn a tight skirt. His eyes kept roaming from my face to my hips. “Girl, you got me acting like a fool. Let me behave myself.” He let out a snort and threw up his hands and bugged his eyes out like somebody had just pulled a gun on him. “I’m sorry. I’m being way too forward.” He laughed and gave me an apologetic look. “Let me start over. I’m going back to Frisco tomorrow afternoon and I’d like to enjoy my last night here. I would like very much to have dinner with you this evening, if you don’t mind.”

I was amazed. Despite my bleak background—but because of my good luck, my charm, and my good looks—I had attracted the attention of a wealthy, middle-aged black businessman who lived in one of the wealthiest cities in the world. This man was looking more and more like a very big fish to me. If I gave him enough bait, I could hook him and reel him in. And since he was leaving the next day, I had to work real fast.

“I have a better idea. And I hope I’m not being too forward.” I paused and took a deep breath. “Why don’t we spend the evening in your hotel room? Sissy’s delivers,” I said in my most seductive voice. “That way we can get to know one another better.”

“Hmmm,” he replied, caressing his chin. “You’re not being too forward. I like a woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to go after it.”

As soon as I got to his lavish hotel suite, I decided to give him a little more incentive to want to know me better.

I fucked the hell out of him that night.

The next morning when my friend told me that Kenneth really did own four stores and was about to open a fifth, I started making wedding plans.

Then I fucked him some more.

I’d been recalling my first encounter with Kenneth a lot lately. He had been my meal ticket ever since that day. I was not about to step aside now and let another bitch replace me.

I had received several more detailed reports and photographs from the private investigator I had following Kenneth around from time to time over the years. That horny pig had had a couple dozen more brief affairs since I’d canceled his relationship with Lois! I eventually ended the surveillance because I knew all I needed to know. And his new flings still didn’t bother me too much anyway. Mainly because he never spent too much time and money on the same ones and he had not fathered any more children.

I was sure that as long as I continued to send Lois her monthly payments on time, I wouldn’t have to worry about her. The lawyer that I had engaged behind Kenneth’s back had handled everything with utmost discretion. A cashier’s check was sent from his office to Lois’s post office box the first of every month. I had advised her that if she was going to put money in the bank, not to have more than ten thousand bucks in an account at one time because the bank would report that information to the IRS. The last thing an ignoramus like her needed was to have to deal with the IRS and possibly steer them in my direction. From what my lawyer told me, she didn’t want a bank account because she planned to collect welfare payments for her baby too. And even I knew how nosy and sneaky those devils were. It might take them a few years, but they would find out if she had an unreported bank account.

“She told me she’d hide the money she receives from you in an old pair of pantyhose and stick it up under her mattress,” my lawyer said. That was so typical. He had not even bothered to suggest a safe-deposit box to her, and I was glad he hadn’t. I was sure that if she had opened one, she probably would have done something stupid that would have involved an audit or a police investigation.

Anyway, the important thing was I hadn’t seen or heard from her since our meeting. And neither had Kenneth.

My marriage was stronger than ever and I was too happy for words.

M
Y LIFE GOT A LITTLE MORE COMPLICATED WITH EACH PASSING
year. It seemed like every time I took an unexpected break from the office to get some much needed rest and relaxation, all hell broke loose in my absence. And it could be about anything, but usually it was something stupid and something that could have been avoided.

Last year when I took a well-deserved two-week vacation and went to Japan, a fire broke out in the break room in one of my smaller stores because some idiot had left the coffeepot heating on the hot plate all night. The damage had been minimal and the culprit had never come forward.

The most serious thing that had happened while I was out of the office had been some mild looting during the riots incited by the Rodney King verdict, back in ’92. I had rented a penthouse in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, that week, determined to get my wife pregnant.

Well, we had not made a baby, but I still enjoyed making love to Vera. And when we were away from all the hustle and bustle that went on around us in the city, I enjoyed it even more.

Nobody knew that Vera and I were in our cabin in Clear Lake for the upcoming new millennium weekend. We had left late Thursday night, and by the time the New Year arrived that Saturday, I had not checked my voice mail for messages or called up my secretary, Arlene Cunningham, the plump, plain grandmother I had hired to replace Lois almost sixteen years ago. I had no clue as to what was going on back in Frisco. But I had an uneasy feeling. It was not a bad feeling, so I wasn’t expecting some form of doom to come my way. It was just a feeling that my life was about to change.

And I was right.

My dream of becoming a father was about to come true and in a way that I had never expected.

I’d been trying to get Vera pregnant ever since we got married. Not having children at my age was my biggest sorrow. Both Vera and I had been checked out thoroughly by more than one doctor. There was no reason why we couldn’t have a child. It was a subject that she and I discussed often.

“I read about a fertility specialist in San Jose. Maybe we should pay him a visit and have him run a few tests,” I told Vera after we had gotten our hopes up the last time her period was late about seven years ago.

“All we need to do is relax,” she assured me.

“Well, it probably wouldn’t hurt for us to get tested by the same doctor at the same time,” I protested. “It’s a sin and a shame that you’ve miscarried within the first trimester
six
times since we started trying.” Every single time Vera miscarried, it happened when I was out of town. And since she was the type of woman who didn’t want to worry her loved ones, she never told me until I returned home. By then she’d be too depressed to go into a lot of detail, so it was a subject I avoided as much as I could. However, there were times when I couldn’t avoid it. “There’s got to be a reasonable explanation as to why you can’t carry a baby.”

“This is too personal and sensitive for me, and I’d really like to stop talking about it so much. Especially after I’ve had so many miscarriages,” she sobbed. “Maybe it’s all the stress of us wanting a child that’s ruining everything.”

“I agree with you, but if we don’t do something soon, we’ll never know what it’s like to be parents. If we wait too much longer, we’ll both be too old to adopt. I would like to have at least one child before I leave this earth. There is nothing I want more than a child of my own.”

“Me too, honey. We’ll keep wishing, hoping, and trying,” Vera told me.

I put the thought of being a father on a back burner again.

Sunday evening when Vera and I returned home from our romantic wine country getaway, the Friday, Saturday, and Sunday editions of the
San Francisco Chronicle
were on the end table in the living room stacked up in a neat pile. I rolled my eyes when I saw Friday’s headline; a local politician I had known for years had been charged with fraud. I was in no hurry to read about that. About halfway down the page, the headline for another piece caught my attention:

I was in no hurry to read that report either. People died in automobile accidents all the time.

An hour later, Cassius “Cash” Booker, Vera’s cousin and the manager of customer service in my main store, called me up. I answered the wall telephone in the kitchen.

“Where have you been, bro?” Cash asked. He sounded frantic.

“Oh. I’m sorry we missed out on that party we told you we’d go to with you and Collette. Vera and I were up at the cabin. We wanted to bring in the New Year quietly and in a more intimate setting,” I told him, speaking casually even though my heart had already begun to thump and vibrate as if a stout woman were dancing on it.

“Man, I’ve been calling all over the place for you! I got something to tell you that I’m sure you won’t like hearing. And if you ain’t already sitting down, you’d better.”

“Oh, shit!” I immediately sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. “Hold on a second!” I yelled, reaching for the vial of heart pills I kept in my breast pocket. I popped one onto my tongue, but my mouth was so dry I couldn’t even swallow it. Even after I chewed it, it took half a minute for me to get it down my throat. I could hear Cash breathing through his mouth on his end. “All right, Cash. What’s the matter this time?”

“Remember that pretty little brown-skinned girl with the long ponytail and big legs that used to be the main office secretary some years back? The one that just up and quit one day without giving notice?”

My heart skipped a beat. I would never forget Lois Cooper and her abrupt and mysterious departure. I had often wondered what happened to her. “You mean Lois Cooper?”

“Well, she married some Mexican dude and became Lois Garcia.” Cash paused.

“So? What’s her getting married got to do with me? Did she send me an invitation or something and called you to find out why I didn’t RSVP?”

“I doubt if she did that. She got married a few years ago. Anyway, a drunk driver broadsided the van she and her husband were in on Thursday evening during the commute hour. When I left work a couple hours after the accident, Highway 101 was closed down both ways for seven hours. I had to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge, then go through Richmond and Berkeley just to get back across the bay and into Frisco. The news about the accident was in Friday’s
Chronicle
.”

“Oh. I glanced at it. I’ll read the article right away. So Lois was married.”

“Dude, can you talk?” Cash whispered.

“Sure. What do we need to talk about?”

“I knew about you and Lois. I knew you two were
getting busy
. . .”

“Oh. Uh, hold on.” I took a deep breath and looked around to make sure I was still in the kitchen alone. We had just added a bar to the living room. Next to the lavish master bedroom on the third floor, it had become Vera’s favorite spot in the house. I reached for my heart pills again, popping another one into my mouth. This one slid down my throat like a raw oyster. I set the telephone down on the counter and wobbled up off my seat. Then I tiptoed down the hall and peeped around the corner into the living room. Vera was behind the bar with her back to me. I could see she had a shot glass in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other. I scurried back into the kitchen and grabbed the telephone. “Cash, I’m back,” I whispered, wiping sweat off my face. “So you knew about Lois and me all this time?”

“Uh-huh. All this time. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m a dude, so I know how we do and we have to look out for one another. I got your back protected better than a bulletproof vest.”

A long moment of silence followed. Even though Cash had just told me he had my back, I was still scared. “Cash, my man, I want you to keep your mouth shut about this. I promise you I will make it worth your while.” I had never been blackmailed before, but I was prepared to pay whatever was necessary to keep this damaging information from Vera. “How much do you want?”

“I don’t want nothing, brother. You’ve already given me more than anybody else I ever knew. Even my own mama and daddy.”

Cash had moved from Houston to California shortly after he finished high school in ’78. He had spent a few months in L.A. pursuing an acting career that he had not been able to get off the ground with a crane. When he visited us one Memorial Day weekend, broke, unemployed, and depressed, I gave him a job and helped him find an apartment. He
owed
me, but if I had to pay him off to keep him from telling Vera about my affair with Lois, I would.

“Then if you don’t want anything, why are you bringing this up? And how did you find out about Lois and me?” I asked.

“No, I don’t want nothing. Honest to God, I don’t. If I wanted something, I wouldn’t have waited no fifteen, sixteen years to say something to you about it. But I knew what was up with you and Lois when I saw you and her coming out of that motor inn on Branson one evening. It was Super Bowl weekend.”

“I see.”

“I never said nothing about it to you because”—Cash paused— “I was in that same motor inn for the same reason with this girl I’d met on the bus the week before. Me and Collette had only been married a few weeks and I wanted her, and you and Vera, to think I was a, uh, good husband. I couldn’t bust you without busting myself. You know how women are when it comes to things like that. They don’t know what it’s like to be a man . . . know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. And thanks for bringing Lois’s death to my attention. Had you not told me, I might not have even read that newspaper article. I’ll send flowers and a sympathy card.”

Cash grunted and cleared his throat. From that, I could tell he had more gloomy information to report—much to my dismay. I tensed up right away. “I think you might want to do more than that, Kenneth.”

“What are you getting at? Have you been in touch with Lois? Does her mother need help paying for the funeral?”

“Dude, the article starts on the front page, but it continues on page D1. There is a picture of Lois and her family.”

The silence that followed for about ten seconds scared me.

“Cash, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Remember when we attended that family reunion in Houston a few years ago, right after I got back to the States from the Gulf War?”

“Sure, I remember that event. What about it?”

“Not too many of your folks came, but your late brother’s daughter was there.”

I smiled. “Sonya Ann. That little girl looks just like me.”

“Dude, Sonya Ann ain’t the only little girl that looks just like you.”

“Cash, please get to the point.”

“Lois had only been with the man she married for four—oops! Excuse me, the newspaper said five years. The girl Lois gave birth to is fifteen now. That means Lois was either pregnant when she dropped out of sight or she got pregnant shortly after that.”

“So? What’s that got to do with me?”

“Get the newspaper and look real close at the picture of Lois’s daughter. That girl and your niece Sonya Ann could be identical twins.”

I don’t remember what I said next. I just hung up. I went to the living room and retrieved the newspaper. I ignored the curious look on Vera’s face and headed back to the kitchen.

Before I could turn to the page to check out the photograph of Lois’s daughter, Vera pranced into the room.