Sinful Too (22 page)

“Don’t come up here beating on my door like some strung out crackhead, then.”

“And put that gun away before you shoot your foot off.”

Dooney smacked his lips then shoved the chrome automatic pistol underneath a perfectly starched shirt, which he never left home without. He brushed off a speck of lint from his freshly creased jeans then locked the door behind him. “Why did you give Tiny such a hard time with them shoes and why were you at the shop in the first place?”

“What, I can’t get invited in good before you start grilling me?” she smarted, in no hurry to answer his questions. “
Hey, Dior,
” she said sorely. “
How is my favorite sister?
”

“My only sister,” Dooney asserted plainly.

“Yeah-yeah, aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Since you want to put words in my mouth, no, I am not, nor was I
happy
to hear Tiny ringing in my ear about you showing your, ahh, see you got me wantin’ to cuss but I refuse. A great man once said that people resort to foul language because of a limited vocabulary. So, I gave it up. However, if you get your nose caught in my business and jack up my money, I can’t make no promises about actin’ a fool.” Dooney must’ve said all he was going to about that because he shrugged on a different demeanor. “Now then, hello, Dior. Why are you here?” He walked over to an enormous aquarium and resumed the task her brash entrance had interrupted. Dior pulled an envelope from her purse then laid it on the sofa table. She gave the room a broad stroke, smiled warmly at the modest but tasteful furniture, the largest television she’d ever seen, and several new pieces of original artwork he’d collected.

“Here’s why I went by the shop and the reason why I came over.” She extended the envelope humbly then took a seat on the sofa.

Dooney felt the package carefully. He furrowed his brow then chuckled. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“What it is: my rent without you having to hunt me down for it. For once,” she added, with a slight chuckle of her own. “You’ve been good to me, Dooney. When I got things twisted in the past, you forgave me, although you saw some of it coming and tried to make me behave myself.” The year before, Dior worked feverishly at taking her cousin’s husband by seducing him with alcohol and late-night trickery. Dooney had warned Chandelle beforehand; she should have listened. “Not too many people would have stood by me then but you came to the rescue, like always. Love like that shouldn’t be overlooked.”

“Love? That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that word when it wasn’t tied to a designer bag, fly dress, or some bangin’ shoes.” Dooney eyed his sister suspiciously. “Now you’re bringing me your rent money, without discussion and all of it at the same time. Hmmm, what’s really poppin’? You about to drop dead or something?”

“No, I’m trying to say thank you,” she whispered, bothered by the way the sentiment touched her. “I’ve never been real good at saying that either.” Her eyes drifted from his toward the floor.

“Dang, girl. If you ain’t fixin’ to die, you must be in love,” he surmised. “Is it the dude with the pimped-out Lexus or that cat you work for?”

Dior hunched her shoulders like a small child being asked if she swiped a treat from the cookie jar. “Neither. Both. I don’t know.”

“You know I roll by your spot to check on you from time to time while on my way home.”

“Don’t you mean to check on your money? And my house ain’t on your way home,” she teased.

“Like I said, don’t but two cars sit in the cut in front of your spot. So, which is it?” She shook her head, not committing a response to his question. “Okay, be like that. But, if I had to guess, it’d be the baller sittin’ on chrome.” When Dior sat still, uncharacteristically quiet, Dooney knew she was keeping something to herself. “Dee, don’t tell me that dude is mixed up in the dope game?”

“Negro, please, you can get to the back of the bus with all that,” she sniped, pouncing up from her seat. “I ain’t insane. My man is a square with a square day job, W-9s, vacation pay, a dental plan, and everything.” Dior hadn’t realized her chest was heaving furiously. Dooney didn’t miss it. “Besides, didn’t I just see your storeroom loaded with boosted stuff?”

“I’m just holding ’em for a friend,” he said, as if that wasn’t the lamest excuse on the books.

Dior cackled loudly. “Is that what you’re gonna tell the cops if somebody rats you out? I already tried that line more than once, and please believe, you got to come harder than that.”

“That’s just like you to try and flip it when you’re on the hot seat. Consider this though: If your man’s an easy-breezy corporate smoe, there’s got to be some educated females all up and through his mix.”

“So!” she spat viciously.

“So, what’s he want with you then?”

“He’s a man. If you can’t figure it out, I’m not the one to break it down for you.”

“It’s easy to figure he’s got you all knotted up. You’d better watch this one, Dior.”

She fanned at him dismissvely. “You worry about a gang of shoeboxes with department store labels still stuck on them. I got this.”

Dooney was reasonably concerned with his only sister getting her heart broken, when he wouldn’t have previously wasted his time believing she had one to break. “You can’t keep running men in and out hoping you won’t get busted.”

Dior threw her hand up to stop the madness. “Maybe I could take you more serious if twenty different females weren’t running all up and through here behind you.”

“Oh yeah, I gets mine but this isn’t about me. I’m telling you to watch
your
back, so get the wax out of your ears and hear me on this, baby sis. Everything cost, everything.”

The expression shrouding her face had several lies hidden behind it even though she wished otherwise. “Thank you for your funky two cents but you ain’t said nothing I didn’t already know.”

A bundle of mixed emotions, Dior returned to her car with slow, deliberate steps. Dooney had his nerve, she thought. He wouldn’t think of limiting the number of women in his fan club for the sake of thinning it out. Despite being upset by her brother’s meddling, there was no denying his advice came from the heart. Double standards aside, it was in her best interest to sort things out after stringing Giorgio along and dangling Richard from the same rope. The decision to cut one of them loose was fairly easy to make. Bearing the bad news to the odd man out required a bit more fortitude than Dior expected.

The clothing store was quiet when Dior sauntered in. Suza was busy restocking a display rack with imported neckties. “I thought you had the day off,” Suza said, surprised by her presence.

“Yeah, I’m off alright. Is Giorgio in his office? I need to speak to him.”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled sorely. “Maybe one of those long talks of yours will snatch him out of the foul mood he’s been in all morning.”

Dior grinned apprehensively. “Sorry, but I’m not looking to have that kind of discussion today.”

After making her way to the rear of the men’s boutique, Dior stood quietly outside the closed door. She couldn’t help wondering what to say once it opened. Giorgio had been good to her. He paid her well for increasing his clientele twofold and paid her extra money off the books. More important, their secret rendezvous enhanced his bottom line. Dior and Giorgio benefited from the relationship, at both ends. Hopefully that would still mean something to him after hearing what she had to say. “Can I come in?” she asked when he unlocked the door.

He furrowed his brow initially. “Sure, sit. It’s good to see you, only I didn’t expect to today.” When Giorgio closed the door, he noticed Dior’s pensive demeanor. “You don’t look happy, Dior. What caused it?”

She drew in a measured breath then tried to relax. “I am happy, that’s the problem.” Dior squirmed in her chair uneasily before continuing. “See, it’s like this. I am so grateful for all that you’ve done for me.”

His face exhibited a great deal of angst. “Don’t tell me you’re quitting. You’re not going to work for someone else are you?”

“Kinda yes and kinda no. Giorgio, you know I love what I do here, but I think I have a future with someone else.” She cast her eyes downward to avoid looking into his. “You’ve been so good to me but —”

“But you’ve made room for another man?” He leaned back in the leather office chair then ran his fingers through his thick salon-styled hair. “So, what are you saying exactly?”

“What I’d like to say, what I’d like to do is keep on working here but without the perks, so to speak.” Dior raised her eyes to meet his, expecting to find them agreeable. She reached across the desk with her hands when they weren’t. “I’ll never stop caring about you. Our friendship means that much to me.”

“You want to, how do they say . . . have the cake and eat it too?” he asked in a noncommittal manner that left Dior hanging by a thin thread. “This poses a crossroad of sorts. You make me a lot of money here. I like money. And I like you. Together it tastes like cake.” Eventually, Giorgio chuckled. “I like cake very much.”

“Ohhh, thank you so much for understanding,” she cooed. “I’ll work twice as hard and bring in so many new customers.” Dior circled the desk to hug him. Giorgio kept his distance. Slightly taken aback by their new arrangement, she nodded that she understood the rejection. “You won’t regret this, Giorgio. Trust me, you won’t be sorry.”

“That’s left to be seen,” he joked. “Now go so I can start to get over you.” Dior thanked him again and then departed, relieved. She tried to feel sorry for Giorgio but couldn’t, knowing that he’d find another midday treat before too long. Men like him always did.

Twenty-one

Silly of Me

N
adeen remained alone for hours before finally working up the nerve to leave the conference room. She smiled pleasantly while church employees looked at her with apologetic expressions sprinkled here and there. Not one of them had any idea what caused the awful interaction involving the pastor and his favorite deacon. Their best guess: Richard having been chastised by Phillip for arriving late to a very important meeting, in a manner he didn’t appreciate. Nadeen wouldn’t stop to receive their heartfelt pity or questioning stares too bold to dismiss. She was torn into a million tiny pieces and not any of them seemed to fit. Usually, she’d bounce her concerns off Richard, who was always there with reassuring words and viable solutions. Since he was the root of her crisis, she decided to reach out to the other person she felt was in the same predicament. Surely Rose would understand the hurt she endured. Perhaps together they could find a way to deal with what had happened without either wife being the wiser.

Once in her car in the church parking lot, she dialed Richard’s first cousin for a desperately needed chat about their husbands. “Hello, Rose? Hey, this is Nadeen. We need to talk and I mean right now.” She held the phone to her ear, expecting to hear a reasonable facsimile to the wealth of anger churning inside of her. Rose’s attitude missed the mark by a mile.

“Nadeen, I just finished talking to Phillip and I’m sorry for the fight the fellas had at the church,” she said, as if there was something stifling her resentment from seeping out.

“Is Phillip sitting there in front of you?” Nadeen asked irritably.

“Yeah, I’m still dealing with a headache,” she said plainly, to throw Phillip off. “I’m going to the store to get some strong medicine so I can calm down.”

“Okay, Rose, I understand. Let’s meet at the coffee shop near your house, the one over by the supermarket on Belt Line.” After Rose uttered in code she was minutes from being en route, Nadeen proceeded that way herself. During the short drive, she cried for a series of reasons, then laughed hysterically because her life as she knew it was over and there wasn’t anything she knew to do about it. Thoughts circulated unabated.
What are Mom and Dad going to say? How is the congregation going to respond when they learn their beloved leader is one of those down-low brothas doing who knows what? Black churches are built on character, whether it’s perceived or otherwise. There’s no way their faithful members will follow him after this, not straight to hell. I wouldn’t blame them. How could I?

Nadeen had other thoughts too, of the violent nature. She imagined her claws digging into Richard’s face, ripping at his flesh, so he could share her misery. Nadeen had worked herself into a knotted ball of suspicion and animosity. She was sitting in a small shop, staring blankly into a lukewarm cup of coffee, waiting for Rose to meet her. Disturbing scenarios saturated her mind. She thought about leaving Richard and the life she loved, about how that would affect the life he’d put together professionally, and the questions waged war within her troubled soul. Sustaining their relationship never crossed her mind, not once. So engrossed in her dilemma, Nadeen didn’t realize Rose had taken the seat across from her at the table she’d commandeered when arriving several minutes ago.

“Nadeen? Girl, snap out of it,” Rose said anxiously when her girlfriend called her name for a second time.

“What? Oh, when’d you get here, Rose?”

“Apparently not soon enough,” she replied, wearing the same pitying expression Nadeen tried to ignore at the church. “You don’t look so good,” she added when nothing else seemed appropriate.

Nadeen leaned over the small circular table to get a lot closer. “How am I supposed to look?” she hissed in a whispered tone. “There’s no telling what those busybodies at M.E.G.A. will be saying about that mess Richard and Phillip got into. I was there and let me tell you, it was ugly.”

Rose shifted her weight in her seat, stalling an inevitable discussion concerning why the fight broke out in the first place. “Yeah, I heard it all from Phillip. He’s done nothing but worry hisself sick. He doesn’t blame Richard alone, seeing as how he played a part in it.” Nadeen bucked her eyes. She looked at Rose as if her head had just popped off. She was convinced Rose had known about the affair and wasn’t as bothered by it as she should have been.

“A part in it?” she groaned quietly. “A part in it? If I didn’t know better you were alright with their behavior?”

“No, I’m not alright with it, not any of it,” Rose answered, thinking she was talking about the skirmish that started when Phillip tried to check Richard about Dior.