The Ex Factor: A Novel (26 page)

Celeste pressed rewind and played the tape again.
“Listen.”
Sharief stared at Monica with a serious look on his face.
“I love you, I'm in love with you, and as fucked up as it may be I would leave my wife to be with you.”

And again.
“Listen.”
Sharief stared at Monica with a serious look on his face.
“I love you, I'm in love with you, and as fucked up as it may be I would leave my wife to be with you.”

One more time.
“Listen.”
Sharief stared at Monica with a serious look on his face.
“I love you, I'm in love with you, and as fucked up as it may be I would leave my wife to be with you.”

Celeste snorted as she stared at the tape. Her first thought was the bottle of Aleve tucked away in the cabinet. She thought about swallowing all the pills, but then she realized that they would build up a chalky residue in her throat and perhaps cause liver damage but nothing more. She knew the sweetness of death wouldn't be so
kind as to snatch her breath away simply because she took one too many pills.

Then she thought of slitting her wrist but figured in the end she would feel the pain, have the scars, and everyone would always think she was insane, even though she wasn't.

Celeste called Greyhound and made arrangements for her children to take the eight am bus ride to Port Authority, something she'd never done. She called Starr, who promised that she and Red would be there as soon as the kids stepped off the bus and, since it was a straight ride with no stops, there was nothing to worry about.

After putting the kids on the bus, Celeste came back home, went upstairs to her bedroom, and fell across the floor. “How did I get myself into this? Here I am thirty-two years old with no friends, nobody to talk to, no nothing. My sister's fucking my husband. What did I do, God? Was it because I didn't go to church like I was supposed to? But I still prayed, I still believed. And no, I can't recite all of the Ten Commandments and so what if all I know of the Twenty-third Psalm is, ‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil…'” Celeste started to scream in agony. “Oh my God, I can't believe this… this was not supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to leave. He was supposed to beg for my forgiveness and promise to never cheat again. He was supposed to hold me close and say,
I'm soooo sorry, baby. I love you, and I don't want to lose you or my kids. I swear I'll never do it again, just forgive me.
He was supposed to want me not to leave, not the other way around.”

Celeste wiped her tears, got off the floor, and walked over to her closet. “You see this shit.” She pulled her white fur-trimmed negligee out of the closet and slipped it on. “This shit made me look like a damn fool and here I been dressin' like a fool, actin' like a fool, and being a fool fo' yo' ass way too long. I'm tired now.” She grabbed her purse and went in search of her cigarettes. Once she found them, she realized she had only two left. “Damn.”

Without thinking about the negligee she had on, she slipped on a pair of pink matted bedroom slippers and walked out the door. She got in her car and headed for 7-Eleven.

When Celeste walked in wearing her negligee, no bra, and a pair of pink bedroom slippers, no one in the store could believe their eyes. The cashier frowned as Celeste walked by. The last time she'd seen anyone who looked and dressed like this was two years ago, and they had robbed the place.

Celeste's big breasts flopped against her stomach as she walked into the store. She had to smile thinking of the money she was preparing to withdraw from the store's MAC. A few weeks ago in the midst of searching through Sharief's things, she'd found two bank books with matching debit cards: one for checking and the other for savings. The checking account had a balance of five thousand dollars and the savings account, twenty-five thousand. Celeste knew she couldn't withdraw more than five hundred dollars from the MAC machine, so she decided to take what she could get this morning and go for the rest later this afternoon. And since Sharief's code was always the same, 0411, transferring all his money into his checking account would be a cinch.

Once her banking transactions were complete, Celeste sauntered around the store in search of a Pepsi and two banana Moon-Pies. The bottoms of her bedroom slippers slapped against the floor as her ass bounced in the air. Her nipples hardened as she spotted a tall, fine chocolate brother. She winked. “Wassup, cat daddy?” He couldn't help but smile as he watched her nipples stick out.

Celeste took a pen out of her purse, wrote her cell phone number down on a piece of paper, and slid it to the man. She noticed the ring on his left hand. “Don't worry,” she said seductively to the fine brother, who was watching her breasts the whole time she spoke, “I won't tell if you won't. Call me, so you can suck these.” She winked again and walked away.

Usually at this time of the morning 7-Eleven would be filled
with the hustle and bustle of passing motorists stopping in just long enough for a buttered roll and coffee. But not this morning; instead the crowds seemed to linger around so they could get a bird's-eye view of the big-tittie woman with the flat ass floating from one freezer to the next.

Once Celeste found the coldest Pepsi she could, she turned around and walked toward the front, never noticing the people standing around and staring.

Celeste smacked her lips as she spoke to the cashier. “Cigarettes, babe…a carton.”

“These not free,” the cashier said to her. “And you can't beg for no money in here either.” She rolled her eyes, disgusted at the crust in Celeste's eyes and the dryness around her mouth. “You need to leave the drugs alone.”

Celeste looked around. “Who you talking to?”

“You.” The cashier pointed. “Out my store!”

“I asked you for a carton of cigarettes!”

“Nasty, filthy wench! Everytime you people come in here you steal!”

Celeste looked at the cashier and slapped the shit out of her. Immediately the cashier jumped on top of her, causing Celeste to fall back and hit her face on the corner of the metal shelf. “Not this time!” the cashier screamed, “I won't be robbed again! I promise you!”

The store was in an uproar. One of the men watching the fight snatched the women apart. By now Celeste's negligee was in shreds and her breasts were hanging out. Celeste stood in silence for a moment as she watched the lady kick and scream. Thinking that she needed to get out of the store, Celeste turned away from the crowd and simply walked out. In the midst of all the commotion no one even noticed that she was leaving. She hopped in her car and took off. As she was driving home she pulled to the side of the road to see where the blood dripping in her lap was coming from. When she looked in the rearview mirror she realized that
there was a large bruise covering the side of her face and a cut over her eye.
I must've cut it when I hit the shelf, 'cause I know for sure that bitch didn't kick my ass!

Celeste pulled up in her driveway and walked across her yard practically naked. As soon as she walked in her front door, she ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She couldn't believe it: her face looked as if someone had beaten her with a bat.
If I didn't know better
, she thought,
I would think that I had my ass beat!

“Celeste!” Sharief called, “Celeste! Why the hell is the front door wide open and the car still running?” he yelled, storming through the house. Once he found Celeste he looked her up and down. She stood in the bathroom doorway in the tattered negligee, her titties hanging out, with bruises and cuts on her face. “What the fuck happened to you?” He frowned. “Who the fuck beat yo' ass? You been assaulted or some shit?”

Instantly a lightbulb went on. Celeste took a puff off her cigarette. “You think I was assaulted? You really do? Well I got something for yo' ass then.” Celeste walked past Sharief and into the living room. She grabbed her cell phone, flipped it open, and hit 9-1-1. She smiled at Sharief, while he looked at her like she was crazy.

Celeste pressed send on her phone and the operator picked up right away. “Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?”

“Oh God!” Celeste screamed, “somebody please, come get me, my husband! My husband he's beating me! He's beating me. Sharief, stop! Please stop! He's trying to rape me!” Celeste placed her cigarette in the ashtray and started banging her fist on the wall.

“Ma'am,” the operator said, trying to remain calm, “your address, please.”

“Hang up that fuckin' phone!” Sharief snapped, realizing what was going on.

The operator could hear him yelling in the background. “Ma'am.”

Celeste could hear a little panic in the operator's voice, so she
played on it and started breathing heavy. “I live at 555 Willow Clark Drive.”

Sharief tried to snatch the phone. “What the fuck are you doing?” The operator could hear Sharief's voice escalate as she dispatched the police to their address. Celeste grabbed Sharief by the collar and tried to rip his white T-shirt off. When she saw she couldn't get it off easily, she jumped on top of him and started fighting him, causing the gash above her eye to reopen and drip blood all over Sharief's shirt.

Sharief pushed Celeste in the center of her chest; she fell off him and slid across the floor. As he got off the floor and stood up, in rushed five police officers—one with a German shepherd, the rest with their guns drawn—and three EMT workers.

Celeste was stretched out on the floor. The blood dripping from the cut above her eye slid down her face and dripped between her lips, giving her mouth the appearance that it was bleeding.

“Get on the fuckin' floor facedown!” one of the officers yelled at Sharief.

“I'm an officer!” Sharief screamed.

“Stop lying!” yelled one of the cops. “Now get down!”

Scared that the officer might shoot if he made any subtle movement, Sharief hit the floor, facedown. “Spread your legs apart! Stupid ass likes to hit on fuckin' women!” The cop placed his knee in Sharief's back while another officer pointed a gun at his head.

“You lowdown stupid son-of-a-bitch!” the officer with his knee in Sharief's back yelled. “You like to beat on women?” He pressed Sharief's head to the floor with the palm of his right hand while he took his left hand and slapped the handcuffs on him. Then he started searching Sharief while the other cops looked around the house.

“I didn't fuckin' hit her!” Sharief clinched his mouth tight.

“You gettin' tough, niggah?” the cop said as he found Sharief's gun on the side of his hip. “Look at what we got, boys!”

“That's mine,” Sharief said as the cop pressed his palm harder into the side of his face. “I'm a detective. Look—look around my neck you'll see my badge. I swear to you I didn't put my hands on her. I didn't hit her! I don't know how she got beat like that but I didn't do it. That's how she looked when I got here!”

Celeste, whom the EMT workers thought was unable to speak, started screaming, “He attacked me! Whenever he has a bad day he does it! I try…I try so hard to be a good wife and nothing is ever good enough!”

“You know I could lose my job over this bullshit!” Sharief screamed, tears running down his face. “You know if I lose my job I won't have shit!”

“You're really a cop?” the officer took his knee off Sharief's back and the palm of his hand away from his face, but he left the handcuffs on. The officer with his gun pointed at Sharief's head withdrew it and helped Sharief stand up. They could see Sharief's sterling-silver badge clearly now.

“Yes. I'm a detective in Brooklyn, New York,” Sharief said. “My captain's name is Kevin Lassiter.”

“Oh God!” Celeste screamed. “I know you gon' let him go! I know he's going to kick my ass again! I knew as soon as you found out that he was a cop that you would let him go! That's why I never said anything before, but I can't take him beating me anymore. Please I can't take it! Please, help me!”

“Celeste,” Sharief said, “are you having a nervous breakdown? Why are you doing this? You got these people thinking I'm fucking crazy and that I beat you when I didn't touch you!”

“With all due respect, Detective,” the officer interjected, “we have you on a nine-one-one tape struggling with her, and we saw you throw her into the wall. You're under arrest.”

“I can't fuckin' believe this shit!” Sharief said as one of the officers grabbed him by his arm and started walking him toward the door. “You fuckin' set me up,” he screamed at Celeste.

The EMT workers placed Celeste on the stretcher and carried
her out the door after the cops marched Sharief outside. It seemed as if everyone in the neighborhood stood outside watching. Sharief held his head down and slid into the backseat of the police car. The police started the blaring sirens and took off.

Tears rolled down Celeste's face and she did what she could to fight back her smile. She lay in the back of the ambulance and listened to the sirens that were sounding like music to her ears.
Good fo' yo' ass
, she thought.
Now let's see how well you sleep tonight.

“I
SWEAR TO GOD, Sharief,” Monica screamed into the voice mail on his cell phone as she sat in her car in the ob-gyn's parking lot, “I don't care if Celeste is checking your messages, I'm not fucking with yo' ass anymore! Don't call me, don't nothing!” Her head felt like it was going to explode. Her doctor's appointment was over; she was officially four and a half months pregnant, and if the surprise of that wasn't fucked up enough, Sharief wanting her to give the baby up was.
Why, Monica
, she thought,
why do you keep playing yourself ?
She started recapping his conversation with her this morning and suddenly it felt like her body was shutting down. Remembering that her body was needed to support the baby, she started backing her car out of the parking lot. As she went to make a left into traffic, her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey dere, gurl.” It was Listra. Monica knew that Listra was either mad or listening to reggae music since her full Trinidadian accent was in effect.