Naughtier than Nice (21 page)

Backbiters and Syndicators was the dive bar of all dive bars. Wooden bar stools, pool tables, dartboards, and a room of disgruntled men and women who looked like they were on their third strike. Not even Gugu Mbatha-Raw walking by naked could have made the bad-tempered smile in a den where the only din was the moans and groans of people like Bobby “Blue” Bland, B. B. King, and John Lee Hooker. I loved the crummy place. Hound Dog Taylor groaned and I made Driver stand and do a mild boogie with me to the beat. He was more comfortable swinging a sledgehammer than dancing. Soon we went back to our crummy bar stools.

I shifted and said, “You responded to my Dark Call very quickly.”

“You had perfect timing. I'd ended a job about two blocks from you when your request came in.”

“I'm curious. Can you say what kind of job it was, or is that confidential?”

“It was a regular job. It's on the books. Drove this writer named Beale Streets to a private event in Hollywood Hills.”

“My younger sister's fiancé is a big fan of the guy.”

“He lives on Kenway Avenue.”

Driver's phone buzzed. He turned away, checked the text message before he thumbed one back.

I asked, “The woman in your life?”

He nodded. “She's just finishing her night. She's had a long day today.”

“What does she do?”

“We're equal partners in this business. There are six of us in total; four are part-time.”

“I guess you'll take that sledgehammer home and Idris her Elba to put her to sleep.”

“Idris her Elba. Never heard it put that way.”

“Any woman who can get a man like you to Idris her Elba is lucky, especially if she can get him to Shemar her some Moore after she does a Morris on his Chestnuts.”

“Idris, Shemar, and Morris.”

“My fantasies run deep.”

He looked at me, licked his lips, then looked away as he said, “I have a good woman. And as far as I know, she's done me no wrong, so I try not to bring her no harm. But I'm still a man. I'm human. I'm virile. Every day I fight that desire to know another woman.”

Driver stood up. It was time to leave the land of the brokenhearted losers. He helped me from my crummy bar stool, then led me through the bottom-feeders to the front of the dive bar.

Rain was falling.

He took his coat off, draped it over my shoulders, led me back to the town car, eased me into the backseat, then slid into the front. I was inside of his coat wondering what he would be like inside me.

We were silent until we made it to the edges of View Park.

He asked, “You okay back there, Miss McBroom?”

“I'm hating that I ever met Franklin Carruthers and wishing I had met someone else, or just had met nobody at all. Being alone left me lonely at times but never left me feeling disrupted like this.”

“One day you will have the right man, someone who makes you feel good both day and night.”

“You're a cool guy. You're sexy. Wish I had met you that day, instead of Franklin.”

“Back then meeting me might've been another dumb move for you.”

“What if I found you tempting, Driver?”

“That's your pain talking. Give it a deaf ear.”

“What's talking to you, Driver? What pain do you have? I saw you check me out. I went to the ladies' room and saw your reflection in the mirror over the bar. You were definitely checking me out.”

“I should walk you to your door.”

“Would you like to come inside?”

“Come inside?”

“Yes, would you like to come inside?”

He looked at me in his rearview. I stared at the reflection of his eyes. We held each other's gazes.

I bit my bottom lip, bounced my leg, then took a breath and whispered, “I bet you can Idris a woman's Elba real good. Bet a lot of women have done a Shemar on your Moore after they did a nice, slow Morris on your Chestnuts. Some nights, when I'm this stressed, I need a few minutes of
Idris
ing,
Shemar
ing, and
Morris
ing to be able to sleep.”

He asked, “Is this one of those nights, Miss McBroom?”

“This has become one of those nights.”

“You sure you want me to come inside?”

“Yeah, I'm sure as night is dark.”

Beep-beep-beep.
There was a
beep-beep-beep
.

Livvy opened her eyes. She pulled the bed covers back, struggled to sit up, the Lucite and leather T-strap Manolo Blahniks on her feet, always on her feet when she was in this mode. She listened and imagined she heard a door open and close.

A light from the kitchen fell across six bare legs and blurred her vision. It was a queen bed that was in the guest room situated just beyond their kitchen. There was a soft humming, the sound of their newest Roomba, another vacuum-cleaning robot, making it to this part of the home.

Two bottles of wine were on the nightstand. Three glasses. Dr. Ashley was in their bed, next to her, between her and Tony.

Roomba assaulted the door frame, bumped, then spun, redirected itself, and entered the guest bedroom. Livvy scowled at the time. Then she frowned at the irritating light that came from the kitchen.

Something about the light wasn't right. She had heard
beep-beep-beep
. And the kitchen light was on. And the bedroom door was open. Livvy had turned off that light when they brought phase two of their debauched night to this bed. Tony had closed the door to keep Roomba from coming inside. No lights were left on when they had entered the home. She untangled herself from warm arms and legs, eased from the bed, cleared her throat, hand-combed her hair, moved away from Tony and the Welsh woman, pulled on Tony's dress shirt, and went to the door frame, leaned forward,
listened for an intruder. No phone was in the guest bedroom. She had left her cellular in her clutch, and her purse was in the living area. Maybe. She sensed someone's presence. Someone's energy was in her home. She smelled apples and raisins. A fourth person was there. Her heart beat fast. She went to the edge of the bed, whispered Tony's name, and shook him lightly. He didn't awaken. She didn't want to alarm their guest.

Livvy tiptoed across the kitchen floor, took steps over the trail of clothing they had left from the dining room to the bedroom door when they had entered the home, hurrying to again become naked and have adult fun. Water stuck to the bottoms of her shoes. Water. Parts of the floor were damp. The storm didn't start until after they were home, until after three bodies had become one and moans from a black woman, an Asian woman, and a Latin man filled the room as Roomba moved back and forth like an anxious pet begging to be fed. Another sound came from the kitchen. The electric teakettle was on, hot water bubbling, a tin of rooibos tea open; a bottle of honey with the top taken off, a tall cup, and a spoon waited next to all of that. The kettle had been left on the wrong setting, had been left on BOIL, for cooking or making soup, and not on AUTO, for making tea. Livvy turned it off. She turned up the lights. Nothing was missing. No one jumped out with a gun. No one was there, but someone had come in from the rain. Damp footprints were in the foyer, and the water in that area told Livvy that whoever had come inside had taken off their shoes. Burglars never removed shoes, none she had ever heard of anyway. Someone had come into her home, gone to the kitchen to make themselves tea, had selected African tea from the ten types of tea in the pantry, chosen the tea that was fragrant to the nose and pleasing to the palate. As they took out cups and honey, they had heard a noise, then come to the bedroom door, looked in on professionals in a ménage à trois, then abandoned their tea, had left in a hurry. Livvy looked behind her, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw a
figure in the bedroom doorway. The Welsh woman was there, naked except for a brand-new anklet on her left ankle, smiling like she had discovered a new world. Naked she was svelte, but not skinny, had a modest ass, nice breasts, was model-tall and -fit, but not as intimidating without her heels on, especially when Livvy had her guest walk her home barefoot. Livvy always wore her Blahniks when she was with Tony and Dr. Ashley. Livvy always put on the shoes that had been given to her by a lover who was suddenly, by her emotional frame of reference, no longer among the living. Like the anklet, the shoes signified something greater, something powerful, something spiritual.

She was the only one who knew the significance of the Blahniks. When they were in Paris, when this part of her was finally revealed, when the itch had become too powerful, Tony realized that whenever she wore them, she was in a special mood, to not ask questions, and it would be a special night.

Naughtiness in her inebriated eyes, Dr. Ashley held a pink vibrator in her hand, a Mahana waterproof toy that had been her gift to Livvy, as the anklet the doctor wore had been Livvy's gift to her. They wore identical anklets.

Each anklet had a trinket depicting the Eiffel Tower, their favorite position, the position taught to Livvy by Panther and Carpe.

Livvy had taught Tony and Ashley the proper way to construct the Eiffel Tower, their version with two women—instead of two men—forming the tower by holding hands over the women they pleased. Tony had placed Ashley on her back, then Livvy had sat on Ashley's face, and while Ashley savored Livvy, with a mouth filled with moans, Livvy shivered and held Tony's hands, her fingers clasped between his as she rode the tongue and lips of the Asian woman from Wales. At times Livvy had leaned forward, had ridden Ashley's tongue as she had kissed her husband with passion. Livvy had been a good student. In the past it had been Carpe moving between Panther's dark thighs as Panther gave Livvy's anxious sex
her Atlanta-born tongue, a tongue that made Livvy writhe and hold on strong to her lover's powerful hands. Each time, at some point, she leaned forward, rode toward orgasm as she kissed the man they had called Carpe. Eventually she and Panther had changed places. They had taught her how to please a woman and a man all at once. Livvy had become the road over which they had traveled. It had all come to an end. An abrupt end. An unwanted end.

Livvy sighed herself free of the past; nervous, concerned; wondered what position they were in when the bedroom door was eased open.

Someone had seen Livvy, Tony, and Ashley in their heated moment. Someone had seen their Eiffel Tower.

Dr. Ashley said, “With what I have learned to do, I'm becoming a regular Abi Titmuss.”

Dr. Ashley sat Livvy on the arm of the sofa, parted her legs, journeyed south. With lips, tongue, and toy, Dr. Ashley continued giving Livvy her carnal therapy. Livvy held the Welsh woman's hair, wiggled, moaned, then she heard a sound, movement across the carpet, footsteps that came their way at a measured pace. Ashley Li stayed on task as Livvy gazed around the room. She expected to see the person who had entered her home to make tea, only Tony was there, standing in the bedroom door, watching. Livvy realized what she was doing; this was a reconstruction of the past. She had become Panther. She controlled this as Carpe had controlled her. She was the leader. She was the one who set boundaries. Tony had become Carpe. Dr. Ashley was hurt, in need, as Livvy had been. Dr. Ashley was the woman betrayed. Livvy moaned again. Tonight she had given Dr. Ashley to Tony, then refused to allow her husband to penetrate her, had used Ashley Li as her proxy. Livvy knew Tony wanted his wife, was dying to have Livvy,
only
her. This pleased him physically, but it didn't make him happy on an emotional or a spiritual level. In Livvy's mind, lust never won over love. She believed that lust could evolve and become what felt
like love. And maybe lust needed love as much as love needed lust. She was convinced that for her, this was lust.

Dr. Ashley had become pure, unadulterated lust. But Livvy could tell the woman from abroad was falling in love with her American hosts. She recognized the signs. It was the same as when Livvy had evolved from being in lust and had unexpectedly fallen in love with Carpe and Panther.

As Ashley made the toy hum between Livvy's legs, Livvy observed Tony. Powerful, yet powerless, and in love. As she was licked and fluttered, tasted like she was communion wine, as the vibrator forced her to hold Ashley's head to maintain her balance, Livvy watched Tony suffer to have her affections.

She had to remember why she had left the bedroom.

They were not alone.

Then she looked across the room; regarded the damp floor, the boiling water, smelled the fruity scent of rooibos tea. The
beep-beep-beep
was made whenever a door opened or closed. That warning, that alert, had been drowned in alcohol, a trio of rising orgasms, and a trifecta of sumptuous moans.

Livvy glanced toward Roomba, wondered if she was being watched, and through the alcohol-induced fog she remembered when she'd heard the beep. They were in the throes, so far gone that she had thought it was an alert from her phone, and the intrusion was dismissed. The first
beep-beep-beep
was when someone entered. She and Ashley were like this, a version of this only, or maybe it had been the reverse, but she knew that Tony was included, his eyes on Livvy as he was connected with one of Ashley's orifices. The combinations and permutations of a three-headed beast seemed endless. Livvy was sure the first series of beeps was when someone entered, and the last
beep-beep-beep
when they had left. A Welsh-born tongue went deep and made her stop thinking, made her back arch.

Livvy shut her eyes, moaned, “Tony, baby . . . take her . . . from behind . . . while she . . . she . . .”

Tony did as instructed. Ashley Li lost her power, submitted to Tony's Latin wickedness, her moans sharp, childlike, her words curt and arriving between suffocating pants, her erotic, dirty talk in a foreign language. She looked as if she felt so good she was going to lose consciousness.

Tony was a Latin man, a Latin lover to the bone.

Ashley lost her place, and Livvy eased from the moment, walked away, glanced back at them, left them to their passion. She went upstairs, stood in the window, looked out at the street.

Carpe was dead.

Soon Tony came upstairs, knocked on the door, then walked into the bedroom, sweat on his skin, the smell of perfumes, cologne, and unadulterated sex on his flesh.

Livvy whispered, “Someone saw us in bed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone was here.”

“In our home?”

“They came in and made tea.”

He asked, “You didn't make that tea?”

“No. I know you didn't. I know Ashley didn't.”

“Had to be someone from your family.”

She nodded.

Tony cursed. “What do we do?”

Livvy said, “Go back to our guest.”

“You're not worried?”

“What's done is done.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Don't be rude. Keep Dr. Ashley company.”

“Is that what you want?”

“She really likes you, Tony.”

“Is that an issue?”

“Not at all. You and Ashley, you are good together.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means, if you want to go to London and spend some time, I won't argue. I haven't been easy to get along with. If you left and decided to not come back, I would understand.”

“Is that what you want?”

She paused. “I want to be who I was before all of this; I want to be naïve again, but a river's current goes in one direction.”

“A river's water flows from a higher elevation to a lower one. So, yes, it goes in one direction, from a high point to a low point, in the strictest sense.”

“We are being pulled to a low point.”

“Not necessarily. I'm waiting for it to go back the other way. A river can never flow in both directions at once, but it can change its course.”

Livvy shook her head. “The way the water flows is beyond the control of the river. Water is just water. It goes where gravity takes it. Fighting gravity is foolish.”

“You could say that. But other factors control a river's flow, external factors, gravity, physics.”

Livvy whispered, “It can be forced in the opposite direction.”

“I guess you can say I caused the earthquake that changed the course of our river, but every earthquake has to end.”

Again, Carpe was on her mind as she asked, “What happens when the force . . . ceases to exist . . . is gone?”

“It will eventually go back to normal.”

“How long does that take?”

“Depends on the level of force.”

She repeated, “When the force ceases to be, how long before the river adjusts its direction?”

“You've changed, Livvy.”

“When you had your affair, before you were served the paternity papers in front of my friends and family, didn't you feel changed? You created the earthquake. Your affair was the earthquake that caused our river to change its direction. We are living in
its never-ending aftershock. Each time we try to change, the memories resurface, and those are the quakes that keep the river running in the wrong direction.”

“Livvy, I thought you were over all of that when you came back home. You cried, we cried, and you said you forgave me.”

“I did forgive you, but that doesn't mean I can go back to being the same person. You can't go back to being the same.”

“I know.”

“Not for the pregnancy, I never would have known.”

“I can't do this over and over. What I did was wrong, selfish, but at the same time it forced me to realize how much I loved you. I would not go through this, would not tolerate this, if not for love. The back of love can only bear so much.”

“Go back downstairs. Kiss Ashley Li's sweet spot for me. Condoms are on the nightstand. They are optional. Go have fun, Tony.”

“She would prefer to be in bed with you more than with me. Being with a woman is new for her, and she enjoys it.”

“We always enjoy what's new.”

“You enjoy her as much as she enjoys you.”

“Go be with her and let me breathe.”

“I had no idea you could be that way with a woman.”

“I never thought you'd cheat on me.”

“Touché.”