Sweet Little Lies (22 page)

“Damn—you waited all day to tell me this? Hell, the next
two
rounds are on me. Ding Dong the witch is dead!”

“You know…I wish she could’ve been more like Diane,” Mark said. “You lucked out with her, because
she
is cool as shit.”

Tim blew out his smoke. “Don’t get no ideas.”

“Come on, you know what I mean. She’s really something.”

“You tellin’ me, man. Best damn thing that ever happened to me. Let that be a lesson, my friend. You find a girl you like but she doesn’t like you? Hang around until she takes pity on you.”

Mark laughed. “Yeah, she really couldn’t stand you when you first met. How’d you pull that off anyway?

Tim winked. “Charm, brother, all charm. I got the hangdog thang down. I let her know how much less pathetic I would be if she just gave me a chance. Did the trick.”

Mark laughed again. “And boy, did you hang around. Glad she finally took pity on you.”

“Me too.”

Mark gulped his beer. “I wish Sasha would have taken pity on me once in a while. Always tight about something. Anything. Everything. Six longest months of my life. And you know that was the first time I ever tried monogamy.”

“Yes, tales of your exploits are legendary around these parts.”

Mark chuckled. “Yeah, well, I guess I always figured when I met the right one, I would settle down. I think I was trying too hard with her.”

“Well, you know I never liked her. What’d you see in her anyway?”

“Oh, you know, man, she’s cute, we had an alright time together. But, like I said, she just wasn’t The One.”

“I can’t figure out what type of woman you’ll wind up with. She’d have to be a saint.”

Mark shot Tim the finger. “Fuck you, man.”

Tim let out a hearty laugh and signaled to the waitress for another round. “Seriously, man. I’ve seen the girls you’ve gone around with, and it’s like there’s nothin’ there. All style and no substance.”

Mark leaned back, looking at the TV. “Yeah, well, I just haven’t met her yet. But she’s out there.”

“I wish you all kinds of luck, my friend.”

Just then, their waitress set down plates of steaming burgers and fries and more beer. They dug in and began a spirited discussion about the football game playing on the bar TV, when Mark got a funny look on his face.

Tim caught it. “What’s wrong?”

Mark shook his head and looked down for a moment before he looked up again. “There’s this chick sitting at the bar who has been staring me down all night. She just licked her lips at me. It’s kind of creepin’ me out.”

“What, she got two heads or something?”

“Naw, it’s like…she’s undressing me with her eyes or something. It’s weird.”

“Well, is she cute at least?”

Mark snorted. “Man, if she was cute, I’d be sitting here getting excited, not freaking out. She probably weighs about three hundred pounds.”

Tim howled. “Holy shit. I know the brothers like a little meat, but
that
I know for sure ain’t your type.”

Mark shot Tim a knowing look as he finished his beer. He felt his bladder press against him. “I’ll be back. Bathroom.”

“Go with my blessin’.”

Mark slid out of his chair and started walking toward the bathroom. The woman who had been staring him down cut him off at the pass. The sickly sweet scent of her floral perfume sliced through the pungent smell of cigarette smoke in the bar, and he was revolted by the rolls of fat spilling through the electric blue tank dress glued to her vast frame. Her bright red lips curved in a wide smile as she cracked her gum.

“Hey, baby. How you doin’?”

Mark went to step around her. “Fine. Excuse me.”

“I was noticin’ you from across the way, and I was wonderin’ if you’d like to hook up tonight.” On that last part, she went to rub his arm, but Mark slapped it away.

“I’m not interested.” He pushed her away and proceeded to the bathroom. When he came back out, she was still standing there, a lascivious smile on her face.

“My name is Geneva. What’s yours?”

Mark let out a terse sigh. “Listen, I’ll say it again. I’m not interested. Now get lost.”

Geneva grabbed Mark by his shirt and pushed him against the wall. She leaned closer until he felt her hot, Juicy Fruit breath on his face.

“Baby, I just think you are so fine, and I just wanna spend a little time. What’s wrong with that?”

Mark felt an unfamiliar emotion ripple through him.

Fear.

He reached up, gripped her baggy arms, and pushed them down.

“Beat it,” he said again before he walked away.

Mark pushed open the door of the men’s restroom, slid the latch to lock it, and leaned back, his heart pounding. He’d never had a woman brazenly approach him that way, and he was scared at how strong she was. Mark unzipped his pants to use the bathroom, but he was trembling so badly, he couldn’t. Suddenly, he wanted to go home.

Tim was engrossed in the football game playing on TV when Mark got back to the table.

“Man, you must have had to take the biggest dump,” Tim laughed until he saw the distressed look on Mark’s face. “Hey, I was just messing around. What’s wrong?”

Mark pulled some money out of his wallet and flung it on the table. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Tim stubbed out his cigarette, concerned. “What’s up? Tell me what happened.”

Mark looked over his shoulder and saw Geneva giving him the same lusty stare, a broad smile on her face. He shuddered, unnerved by the way that woman had accosted him. He began to walk out of the bar, and Tim ran to keep up.

“Hey, slow down! What’s got your panties all in a bunch?”

“Man, that woman, she…she had her hands all over me, said wanted to hook up with me.”

Tim laughed, and then, when he saw Mark didn’t find it funny, he stopped.

“You’re serious. Really?”

Mark shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want to talk about it. I gotta lotta studying tomorrow, and I just want to go to sleep.”

“Alright,” Tim replied. “We’ll just forget the whole thing.”

The two friends continued walking home in silence, unaware the woman was following close behind.

M
ark dumped two packets of sugar and one carton of cream into his coffee. He was at a small café along the Riverbend, close to the apartment he and Tim shared. He’d be at the library for the next six hours, and he needed some fuel. He read the
Times-Picayune
,
Wall Street Journal
, and
New York Times
every day, except for Sundays. Then he only read the
New York Times
. He slurped his coffee, savoring the few moments of quiet before he had to dive back into the books. He finished his coffee and two beignets and lingered over the
Times
for another twenty minutes before reluctantly gathering up his briefcase to head over to the library. He stepped into the warm hush of early Sunday morning in New Orleans, feeling rejuvenated. He was waiting to cross the street when a rickety old orange Datsun screeched to a stop in front of him. He jumped back on the curb, more pissed than scared. The window rolled down, and Mark swallowed hard.

It was the woman from last night.

“Hey, baby! How you doin’ today? Got a little hangover?”

Mark’s heart began to jackhammer. How had she found him? He began to walk backwards, thinking maybe he would skip the shortcut and take the long way to the library.

“You need a lift? I can’t believe you was up this early. What you doin’ anyway?”

“Maybe if you ignore her, she’ll go away,” he whispered to himself as he began to walk-run in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go. Miraculously, a girl from his Tuesday night study group came out of another café, clutching a cup of coffee. He couldn’t describe the relief he felt when he saw her.

“Stephanie!” he yelled out. Stephanie Morris looked up at the sound of her name and smiled when she saw him.

“Hey, Marcus! You headed to the library?”

He quickened his pace to catch up with Stephanie. “Yeah. You?”

Stephanie nodded, her short red hair bobbing as she did. “Yeah, you wanna go over together?”

He nodded, trying to mask the fear he felt overtaking him. “That would be great.” They started walking, and Mark could see from the corner of his eye that woman creeping down the street behind them. He turned his attention back to Stephanie.

“What are you working on today?”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Torts, which I suck at.”

“I could probably help you out with that.” He stole a quick glance over his shoulder and saw the Datsun was gone. He felt his breathing return to normal, and he and Stephanie proceeded to the library.

M
onday started much the same way every weekday had since he’d first started working at Spence a few months earlier. Up at four, a quick jog, followed by two cups of coffee and toast, and in the office by six. He clerked for Spence during summers and in between semesters. Once he graduated and passed the bar, they’d make him a full-fledged associate. He figured he’d stay there a year, two tops, before making the move to a bigger market. He always thought he belonged in a big city with the big sharks. Tim was pretty rooted in New Orleans, and Mark had no doubt he’d own this town one day.

The two men had a couple of classes together at Tulane and, after first-year, had decided to room together. Mark was as close to Tim as he had been with his brother, although he hadn’t talked to Roy in ages. He still couldn’t believe how stupid he was for getting his two-bit girlfriend pregnant and all the other mess that followed. They hadn’t talked in about a year, and Mark still tried not to boil over whenever he thought about it.

At the moment, though, he needed to concentrate on passing the bar. The rest of the day was spent in meetings and research and, before he knew it, six had rolled around, and he went to grab some dinner before heading to the library for a few hours.

He was walking to the parking lot when he saw her. That woman from the bar on Saturday night was standing next to his battered blue Honda Civic. Mark stopped dead in his tracks, that slick feeling of fear washing over him again. She saw him and waved. He licked his lips and looked around, wild-eyed, trying to figure out what to do. Fuck this. He didn’t have to put up with this. He marched over to her, a resolute look on his face.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

She cracked her gum and smiled. “Marcus, this town ain’t that big. It wasn’t that hard.”

He blinked. “How do you know my name?”

She smacked her gum. “Like I said, this town ain’t that big. Why you runnin’ from me? I just wanna get to know you.”

He pulled his keys out of his pocket and went to open the door of his little Honda.

“Well, I don’t want to get to know you. I already told you, I’m not interested.”

He felt her squash the rolls of her fat against him. His heart leapt, and panic rose up in his throat. He tried to twist around and push her away, but she was bigger, stronger. She started to rub up against him, and a soft moan escaped her lips. He grabbed her hands and dug his nails into the veins of her wrists, causing her to yelp.

“Look, if you don’t stop all of this, I’m going to call the police. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

She cocked her head to one side. “You wouldn’t do that to a sistah, would you?”

Mark found the strength to shove her away from him. She stumbled backwards, momentarily stunned. He took the opportunity to hop in his car and start the engine. She started to pound on the hood.

“Baby, I just wanna spend a little time! Just a little time!” she screamed after him as he jacked the car into reverse. She started to run after him, but he threw the car into drive and barreled out of the parking lot. Mark looked in the rearview mirror and saw Geneva standing there with her hand on her hip, fuming.

He gripped the steering wheel and tried to regain his composure. He finally pulled into the parking lot of his complex and ran upstairs to his apartment. He barely made it to the toilet before he threw up in the bowl. Some sloshed onto the seat, but he ignored it and continued to empty his stomach into the porcelain container. When there was nothing left, he slumped down into a crumpled heap on the icy tile of the bathroom floor before he reached up and pressed the handle to swirl away the remnants of his waste. Shaken, Mark hoisted himself up and stumbled to his room just to the left of the bathroom. He flopped down on the bed and was asleep within moments.

F
or the next few weeks, Mark made sure he was never alone. He was about to take the bar exam, and he needed to pass it in one shot.

But he was afraid.

Geneva would show up at bars he went to and lurk outside his apartment, always with that look in her eye. Tim’s family had a vacation house in Plantation Country, and the two of them snuck out of town for a few days for some intensive studying and a respite from Geneva’s prying eyes. She was waiting for him when he returned, demanding to know where he’d been. Tim encouraged him to call the police, but Mark just wanted to forget the whole thing, sure she would get tired of bothering him and leave him alone.

He couldn’t have known how wrong he was.

F
inally, it was over.

He’d taken the bar, and now all he had to do was wait. He, Tim, and Diane had driven to the Landry vacation home for a few days of rest and relaxation and to celebrate that the exam was over. When they returned to New Orleans, it was back to the grind at Spence. Geneva seemed to have disappeared, which meant Mark could stop looking over his shoulder and let his guard down.

September came, along with word that he and Tim had passed the bar with flying colors. A bunch of folks headed to the Quarter, on a mission to hit as many bars as they could for a night of wild drinking, unconcerned with how much their heads might hurt or how hard they might be praying to the porcelain God the next morning. All that mattered was that they were full-blown lawyers, and now the real fun could begin.