Sinful (15 page)

S
aturday morning, Dior slid into her sexiest pink man-catching sweat suit and darted out as early as she could. She didn't know for certain whether the jitterbug antics of the previous evening had worn on her more than she would have predicted, or whether that Viagra pill-popping Pistol Pete's bedroom aerobics caused her to feel like a high-performance vehicle stuck in first gear. Whichever happened to be the case, Dior was dragging. It was already half past ten when she stopped by the Java Hut, the trendy breakfast nook that Marvin preferred above any other in the city. With the pressing conversation she intended to have on her mind and closer proximity to Marvin in her sights, Dior practically floated into the restaurant on a cloud. Since she'd heard him rave about their omelets before, it seemed like a safe bet to order one of each. Surely, he'd be thankful and honored she went to such great lengths to put something in his stomach. With any luck, she hoped getting the chance to put something else on him, namely, herself.

Two white “to go” bags filled with tasty entrees rested on Dior's front passenger seat. The gratitude she expected when Marvin laid his eyes on her bounty made her blush; what she'd planned on doing with his gratitude made her hot.
He can't do nothing but feel me on all of this,
she thought, patting the boxes as if they were obedient pets.
We'll fall into his spot, get him good and full so he'll want to
lay down and talk about a few things. Huh, after he told Chandelle to kick dust last night, it'll be hard to pass up on us.

Dior was still convincing herself that she'd done the right thing by giving Marvin another opportunity to see what he was missing. Deflated doesn't begin to describe how foolish she felt after turning into the apartment complex and not finding his severely used Four Runner anywhere. “You got to be kidding me,” she groaned sullenly. “I went through all this trouble and he ain't even home.” Dior contemplated leaving the collection of omelets on his doorstep but figured neighborhood cats would beat him to them.
I'm leaving a note to let Marvin know I came by to look in on him. Maybe he'll call to see what I wanted; then I can chat him up about a friendly dinner. Yeah, then I'll have a better shot at putting in work.

Dior did leave a note on Marvin's door; then she tossed her useless ammunition in the trash bin before striking out for a full day of pampering and planning. As long as she could keep Chandelle on the outside, she assumed getting in Marvin's bed was a cinch. Making sure things remained gummed up between them required engineering a crafty trail of deceit and a devilish inside influence. Dior was an eager candidate and well suited for both.

 

Marvin's head was still spinning from the night before as he put his name on the waiting list at Java Hut, not five minutes after Dior slithered out of it. He flipped through the business section, made himself comfortable in the waiting area, and then tugged at the bill of his baseball cap to shield all extemporaneous stimuli. Where to initiate his job-hunting expedition on Monday was weighing on him heavily. Never having been fired before, it was not going to be easy for him. He dreaded telling men who he needed to impress how he'd been terminated because of a pending “spousal abuse” charge.
Yes, sir, I'm extremely qualified, but I'm currently awaiting trial,
he thought to himself.
Oh no, sir, nothing as serious as armed robbery. My violent crimes only involved an arrest for beating my wife. So, when do I start? Never!
Marvin folded the newspaper over his knees and exhaled.
Look at me. I'm already thinking like a criminal and more than ready to lie on employment applications. Marvin Hutchins, you're a bad liar and a real trip.

He left the paper for others waiting when he heard his name called from the hostess stand. A pleasant-looking freckle-faced girl smiled when she instructed him to follow. “Excuse me, but I thought you said the wait was at least thirty minutes?”

“Yes, it is,” she answered amiably.

Marvin stared at her peculiarly, then did as directed. He traced the hostess's steps deep into the nonsmoking area of the busy eatery. Just as he reached out to ask where she was leading him, the young girl stopped on a dime.

“Is this the one you were talking about, ma'am?” she asked the attractive woman coloring a cartoon hamburger and French fries with complimentary crayons.

“Yes, Sherry, he's the one all right,” Kim Hightower replied. “Could you ask our waiter to get him something to drink and another silverware setting? Thanks a lot.”

“Uh, hey, Kim,” was all he managed to say after accepting a seat and her hospitality.

“Hey yourself,” she jested, with a brilliant smile. “Rough night?”

Marvin cast his eyes down, imagining how scraggly he must have appeared to her before answering. “How'd you guess?”

“I saw you climb out of your truck like a man with no place in particular to be and you look like something the cat dragged in.”

“More like something the cat spit out,” he mused, laughing at himself.

“That too,” Kim agreed. “Regardless, you know we have to stop meeting like this. A certain someone might pounce up again and get another wrong idea about us.”

Marvin bit his bottom lip playfully. “I don't think she cares that much anymore. Last night was rough, remember?”

“Hmm,” Kim uttered, as if to let that one go. She'd seen more of her share of men in troubled marriages and wasn't prepared to help him carry that baggage any further. “Has the owner at your last job reconsidered?” she asked with a grin.

“Oh, I see,” Marvin chuckled. “You sent the hostess to fetch me like a Mob boss ready to make an offer I can't refuse?”

“No, it's not that serious,” she said, after taking a sip of tea from her mug. “But, you do know that the judge will not look favorably at your case if you come across as another unemployed thug with a bad temper.” Marvin suspected that Kim was going somewhere with her line of conversation but didn't see it clearly yet, so he just nodded and listened. “Let's not even talk about your being in my pocket at this point.”

“Ahh, you gonna go there on me?” he debated halfheartedly.

“Yes, I am, Marvin,” Kim said, making no bones about it when she did. “Look, I understand you're having a bad stretch, but that's all it is at this point. If you let it take you under, believe me, it will. When I spoke to you over the phone the first time, I thought, this brotha has a lot on the ball. Unless I'm mistaken, that hasn't changed. You're still a very smart man, Marvin, and extremely good with customers.”

Kim's compliment made him sit up straight and pay closer attention. “Yes, I'd like to think so,” he agreed. “And you're right. I'd better make the best of it before going back to court. Never thought I'd be out there hitting the bricks, but everybody's gotta door-to-door it some time. I can handle that.”

“Can you handle working for a woman, a black woman?” she stated seriously, with a noticeable shift in her demeanor.

“Yes, of course I can,” he responded before realizing what he'd walked into. “Hey, you don't mean come to work for you as an indentured servant until my bail is paid off?”

“Yeah, you catch on quick,” Kim said, laughing at his concerned expression. “I told you you'd go far. But I'm not proposing any work release program. I'm always keeping an eye out for talent. You have it, and what you lack in the way of real estate savvy, I'll teach you.”

“Real estate?” he said, as if those words flew right out her behind.

“Yes, do you have problem with what I do?” she hissed defensively. “Don't forget that's what got your butt out of jail.”

“No, no,” he sputtered, backpedalling all the way. “Kim, don't get me wrong. You're excellent at what you do;
muy, muy excellente,
but I don't know a thing about that industry. I'd be a bull in a china shop trying to move houses.”

“Well, if you're scared to learn something new, they're always hiring at Appliance World. Oops, you can't go back there, can you?”

Marvin slumped in his chair and tugged at his hat again. “I'd bet you can sell ice to Eskimos.”

“If I put my mind to it,” she replied most assuredly.

“Yeah, I'd bet you could at that,” Marvin said, smiling softly. “Tell me what it takes to get started and I'll see about putting my mind to that. One other question,” he said, as the waiter finally appeared with a menu, “what are you coloring and why?”

“That's two questions,” Kim corrected him before answering. “When I come here without my munchkin, Danni, I try to remind myself why I work so hard and how much she misses me when I do.” It was Kim's turn to lower her eyes then. She was not accustomed to showing her vulnerable side, but Marvin was not in any position to judge. Secretly, she hoped he wouldn't become the type once his life was back on track. A blind man could have seen that they shared a great deal more than tea and orange juice between them. Kim wanted to trust him. Marvin had no choice but to trust her.

He exited the restaurant long after Kim left to meet with her next client of the day. Marvin's mind motored a hundred miles an hour. Kim had explained in detail what he'd need to do in order to get his realtor's license and get on her award-winning sales team. Fate caused them to cross paths, he concluded, and who was he to battle against it?
Making room for a new career and afresh start will be easy without Chandelle throwing drama in my face,
he thought.
I've got to start living for Marvin, and Marvin only
, were the words resonating in his head. His heart was singing another song, but he refused to listen.

As Marvin's future and fortune called out to him, he spent the better part of the day chasing after his past. He opened an individual checking account at the banking center inside of the grocery store. That so-called lawyer-appropriation bonus from Mr. Mercer came in handy. Marvin deposited the $3,700 check, and then mapped out a budget for the next two months. After covering the rent, phone, and electricity bills, he had enough to live on but not nearly the fee to pay a reputable attorney. If he burned the midnight oil and studied for the real estate exam with every waking hour, he stood a better chance at making ends meet and retaining his freedom. The compass Marvin used to lean on for guidance and the light he counted on illuminating his path hadn't abandoned him, he just had to be reminded where to look.

In the meanwhile, Marvin used his time to run errands. He picked up a study package from the Hightower Realty Group, equipped with manuals, mission statements, pretest kits, applications, and a book of realtor terms. It felt like college exams again, and that brought an unexpected smile to his face.

There were two more stops on his checklist for the day. The thrift store located near his old job sold refurbished furniture so he wandered into the warehouse to see what, if anything, he could get with $100. He pulled his SUV away from the back loading dock thirty minutes later with the love seat Chandelle had begged them to haul off crammed inside and the reclining chair tied on top. Marvin was lucky to get them back. He was blessed to get them back for $75. By the end of the day, he met with Dooney as he closed the shop early.

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate you squeezing me in this evening,” Marvin told him in earnest. Dooney flicked off the red neon OPEN sign in the window.

“No sweat, Kinfolk, but I thought you decided to pass on stopping by.” Dooney glanced at his watch and laughed as if there was an inside joke. “A couple of more seconds and you would have had to keep on going.”

“My bad, Dooney,” Marvin apologized. “I know I'm late and on your time so go ahead hook me up, then I'll jet out.”

Dooney glared at him playfully, then gestured toward his barber chair for Marvin to sit. “By the looks of it you need to cop a squat anyway. I wouldn't be walking around like this if I were you.”

“Oh, you're cracking on me? I know I need a cut, that's why I'm here.”

“Who said I was talking about your head?” Marvin, facing the broad mirror, glanced up to note Dooney's expression. “That's right. I'm talking about you and Chandelle. She called me. I put the Dooney Show on her and did what I do. Man, I even got her to look you up and get back in the ring.”

Marvin began to replay the last interaction he shared with estranged wife while Dooney worked the clippers around the edges of his hairline. “I should have known she needed some convincing to come back begging.”

“She was beggin'?” Dooney asked in an elevated tone. “And you still booted her out?”

“Don't mix it up, Dooney; it wasn't even like that,” Marvin explained. “I wasn't in any mood to have her knocking on my door and I haven't been myself in a while.”

“Marvin, we're cool like the other side of the pillow, you know that. I respect you and what you feel necessary to maintain peace of mind, but sometimes us brothas get our hearts stepped on and forget that we could use some convincing too.” When Dooney saw Marvin's jaws tighten, he stopped cutting and turned the chair around. “Kinfolk, I ain't never told nobody this, but it's the God's honest true. There's a curse on the women in my family that goes all the way back to slavery. Not one of them can keep a man.”