Beautiful Liar (11 page)

              “Ok ma’am, so the all-white Chrysanthemum floral arrangements with the Swarovski crystals are $53.13. Since you did want eight of them, we were able to apply the discount. Are you taking care of the payment now, or would you like to take care of it at pick-up?”

              “I’m sorry, is that $53.13 each?”

              “Yes, each. So that’s $425.04 total. How would you be taking care of that?”

              I bit down on my bottom lip and tapped my fresh couture designed nails along the counter. The move-out deadline that my parents slapped me with had been weighing on me. In the back of my mind, I knew I needed to get my spending together so I could move the hell up out from under them, but it was so tough. Where would I begin saving? If everyone around me knew me as the soror who could cover, if not all, most of the expenses, how could I turn around and utter the words, “I can’t afford that”?

              When my chapter sorors met me, Trav was my cushion. Up until I discovered his cheating, I didn’t need to touch my own money. The rejection from him only reopened wounds that my therapist was only able to stitch. The neglecting and lies were the salt poured onto it. Now that my bad habit was wide open, and bleeding, I was running through my inheritance. I couldn’t afford my lifestyle, anymore. The thought of that pained me.

              I pressed the phone to my ear and groaned. I had a reputation to protect. Every year near the end of our retreats, I’ve always presented our Crystal Sorors with a gift to recognize their fifty plus years of membership within our sorority. Every year my gifts had gotten increasingly better. I needed something to top the Swarovski Chrysanthemum pins, and that something needed to be ready in two days. Nothing else could beat gifting the actual flower adorned with sparkle.

              “I’ll take care of it when I pick up,” I told the florist.

              “Ok great. We just need your card number to secure the deposit.”

              While I fumbled through my wallet, Dominic walked into the kitchen with his shirt off. “Nola, have you seen my
Thomas and Friends
t-shirt?”

              I pressed my finger to my lip to signal Dominic to be quiet, and I began reading the numbers off my card credit card.

              Dominic was persistent. “Nola! I need my
Thomas and Friends
shirt!”

              The florist cut me off, “I’m sorry could you repeat that? I couldn’t hear the first four.”

              I huffed and tried again, but this time Dominic was louder, so much louder.

              “I NEED MY SHIRT! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, NOLA! I NEED MY SHIRT!

              I quickly read her the numbers from the credit card and didn't bother waiting for the confirmation. I rushed off the phone to deal with Dominic. "Where's the manny?"

              "I can't find him. I can't find him or my shirt. I'll be late to work!"

              Dominic squeezed his fist and strained his face the way he always did before a meltdown. I wrapped my arms around his thick waist and spoke calmly.

              "Baby, you have to relax. You will not be late for work." I looked at my watch. "It's only 9:15 a.m. You have to be there at 10:30 a.m., remember?"

              The truth was that Dominic had no set time. His work hours were super flexible. He didn't even have to show up if he didn't feel like it, but he was a responsible boy. If you gave him a duty, he wanted to carry it out the best he could. Every day he looked forward to work. The other day the storeowner said she'd teach him how to use the cash register, so his excitement to be there heightened. He had been begging her to show him how to ring up customers after the one costumer got clocked with a book.

              "I'm gonna own that book store," he said with exuberant and confident eyes that night she offered to train him. "I'm gonna fill it up with train books".

              I believed him, too. He was determined like that. With the proper counseling to teach him how to handle stressful situations, I believed that Dominic could be just as successful as my father or Derrick ... if not more. 

              After I got Dominic to calm down with a glass of orange juice, I went towards the laundry room that was connected to the garage. Derrick's all black Escalade was parked in my father's space yet it was empty, and that only meant one thing.

              "What the ... oh heck no..."

              The light from the laundry room shone from underneath the door, and there were stifled noises that weren't quite loud enough to be coming from the washer and dryer. I jiggled the knob. I could hear belt buckles clinging, and the stifled noises became quick rustling. I banged on the door like I was SWAT.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

              "This is messed up and straight up wrong! You got my brother freaking out, and you're down here getting your butthole treated???" I gave the door one hard kick. "Disgusting!"

              One of them flung it open, and the manny came out and slid by me. He ran across the garage and into the house holding Dominic's
Thomas and Friends
t-shirt.

              "You're fired!" I called to his back.

              Derrick stepped out of the room tucking his white button down shirt back into his pants. I pointed my finger at him. "I don’t want your money, so don’t ask. I’m telling Alicia, and I'm telling daddy."

              He smirked, "A lie like that could get you kicked out, Nola. Do you have a place to go on your absent income? According to our parents, you have no job and no plan. Where’s a girl like you going to live? The hood? Section 8?"

              "You are the devil. Do your dirt on your own time, Derrick, not Dominic’s." On my way back inside the house, I made sure to spit on the hood on of his Cadillac.

***

              That afternoon, the manny came knocking on my bedroom door with puppy dog eyes, wearing distressed styled burgundy Bermuda shorts. I was sitting on my bed with my MacBook on my lap checking my account balance. It was the first time that I noticed my parents hadn't deposited anything for me since the previous two months.
Was I cut off and they didn't bother telling me?
I was looking at only $30,645.86, and I wanted to cry. Anything less than thirty grand was pocket change with the way I spent. I had once blown that amount in nine weeks, and now I was supposed to stretch it to God knows when?

              The look on my face probably made the manny ask me if it a good time to speak.

I looked up at him from my computer. "How much are my parents paying you?"

              The manny stuffed his fingertips into his tight pockets, and shrugged. With his thick Columbian accent he said, "Two thousand, sometime three thousand monthly, depending on how long I stay with Dom."

              "And you survive off of that?"

              "I make it work. I save everything. I don't have family."

              He lifted one of his hands and gestured behind him. “I don't have alla this. The money is paying for my GED, and I’m saving for a house." He sat on my bed and crossed his legs. "That's why I needed to speak to you. I can't lose my job, Nola. This is all I have. Before Derrick introduced me to your family, I was waitressing at Outback Steakhouse. I was living with my drunk uncle, in North Philly, dodging bullets every other night. I was barely making it. Derrick came to the restaurant one night, and practically dusted me off and gave me this job. I have no real skills. I’m a high school dropout, Nola. I can't lose this job."

              "If this job is so important to you, then why are you sleeping with a married man in a home that you work in? It’s just messy that this isn't the first time I walked up on y’all. Doesn't seem like you care to me."

              The manny pressed his lips together and titled his head.

              The first time I caught him and Derrick in the act was a few months after I moved back here. My father was hosting a party for his firm to celebrate a major DUI case he had won. I like to call it A
Hooray-we-let-another-killer-back-on-the-streets
Party. Anyway, I was still depressed about Trav, so I drunk nearly everything the rented bartender had to offer. Alicia and I were by the bar giggling about the bad taste these women lawyers had in men, when I realized my stomach was feeling queasy. I handed her my glass and jetted upstairs in my white Louboutin pumps, running as fast as lightening. I had on a pure white Vera dress that would give me a heart attack had I ruined it.

              I didn't realize how drunk I was until I reached the top of stairwell and flung the wrong door open. Derrick had the manny bent over in the walk-in linen. The manny’s elbows were resting against the folded towels, both of their pants were dropped and hugging their ankles. They were so into it that they didn’t even realize I was standing there frozen holding my mouth and my stomach. Maybe they didn’t notice because the hallway was dark and no light had shone on them. The booming ol' school music from downstairs traveled up, so they probably didn’t even hear me open the door. What they certainly did hear was me barfing all over the floor, all over my shoes, and all over Derrick’s Tom Ford loafers when he tried to lead me to the bathroom.

              The next morning, the manny was crying to me about how sorry he was, promising that he would never do it again, and swearing to God that they had broken up. Later that day, Derrick deposited $2,500 into my bank account and labeled it "Hush Money." I didn't need the money—I wouldn't have told anyway. Dominic needed the manny. But I definitely spent it on new shoes, a new bag to match, and clothes and train figurines for Dominic.

              I looked at the manny who was nervously biting his bottom lip and shaking his foot. I glanced down at my MacBook, and the low balance of $30,645.86 smacked me in the face again. I needed a job. I could take his job, but Dominic needed him. And anyway, the amount that they were paying him would do nothing for me. However, if he thought he would get away with inconveniencing my Dominic this morning, he was crazy. There are consequences and repercussions when you mess with me or Dom.

              "I won't tell my parents about you and Derrick, but you should take a two-week unpaid vacay."

              The manny looked at me as if I was insane. "What?”

              “Tell them you need to handle some things at school or at home or something.”

              The manny laughed apathetically. “I’m not taking an unpaid leave. Are you crazy? I have bills."

I slammed my MacBook shut and stood up.               “You are sleeping with a
married man
in your
boss’s house
, and you think you can get away with it?
That’s trifling
! If anything you should be thanking me for not airing you out.”

“Wow!” The manny shook his head and folded his arms. “I thought we were cool.”

I sternly replied, "Two weeks, four weeks, or forever. You choose."

              Pastor Ronnie Robinson stood in his foyer with his dimply grin that I’d been dying to see all week.

              “How do I look? You like it? You like my shirt?”

              I folded my arms and smiled. “You look great.”

              He looked over in the mirror and smoothed his freshly shaven goatee with his hands. Then, he smoothed out his pastel pink, green, and grey button down. “Marley told me I had to wear your colors. I ran to Express and this shirt was hanging on the wall. I was in and out!”

              He did a good job matching his shirt with light denim jeans and a pair of canvas sneakers. He was one up on Silas as far as style of dress, and I wondered if his shoe collection was just as impeccable as mine was. If so, we were definitely a match made in heaven.

              I wanted to be the first member to arrive at Ronnie’s, so I sent Bailey to pick up the flowers for the Crystal sorors, I talked Marley into carpooling a few sorors, and I arrived about two hours ahead of time. As I was pulling up, so was the company our chapter hired to provide the tent, tables, and chairs. At first, the driver of that van looked a lot like Ronnie’s girlfriend, Carmen, and I felt my goosebumps rise. The last thing I needed was her interference. But it wasn’t her. I sighed in relief while I parked.

              When I got up to the front door, Ronnie greeted me with firm hug and a light tender kiss on my cheek. He smelled so delicious—a woodsy vanilla and spice fragrance that made me wanna wrap my arms and legs around his waist and lick is neck so badly.

              Ronnie joked, “Now that I have at least your approval, let me introduce you to my member’s church who volunteered to help me cater.”

              As Ronnie led me to his kitchen I tugged on the bottom of my olive colored high waist skirt and adjusted my satin coral blouse. Just to be safe that I wasn’t exposing too much leg or cleavage. I needed to make a great impression on these members. They didn’t know it yet, but they were about to meet their future leading lady.

              The volunteers were three young men who looked about college aged. I smiled big and warm with the same smile I give my sorors, and I gave them each a hug by resting my hands on their shoulders, and leaning in for a cheek-to-cheek kiss. I greeted them like the deaconesses at their church always greeted me: “God bless you.” Kiss. “God bless you.” Kiss. “God bless you.” Kiss.

              One of them chimed, “Man! I’m glad I volunteered!”

              The other two punched his arm and laughed.

              Ronnie pointed at them, “y’all better cut it out.” Then, he looked at me and smiled. “I hope they won’t embarrass me in front of your sorors.”

              I playfully fanned him off with my hand. “Don’t be silly…”

              “I’m nervous. Y’all are my first professional clients. I want everything to taste good. I need everything to go good. I don’t want y’all saying, ‘
uht-uhn this is not what we paid for!’”

              Ronnie’s woman impersonation tickled me, and the fact that he was able to be vulnerable in front of me turned me on even more. “Relax. You will do phenomenally…. Let the Lord do His chore.”

              It sounded good coming out, but when Ronnie lifted his eyebrow in confusion and the young guys behind me giggled amongst themselves, I figured I didn’t make any sense. I reinforced it with something simple that Marley would say and vowed to never overstep my biblical capabilities again. I pointed to the ceiling. “Leave it in His hands.”

              The awkward moment was saved by the sound of my ringtone. It was Bailey. I stood off to the side of the kitchen to take the call. She spoke quickly and frantically.

              “Nola, I’m in front of the florist. She said the credit card on file declined! I would have taken care of it, but I don’t have it.”

              “Bailey, slow down. That’s number one. Just put the florist on the phone. The moron probably keyed the wrong numbers.”

              When the florist took over the call, I pulled out my card. The only one that hadn’t been maxed yet. I began to read the numbers. Each time she said it declined, I reread them again… slower… and louder. It was on the fourth try that Ronnie stepped in. He took the phone from my hand and ran his credit card info instead. 

              “Thank you,” I said to him after the purchase. “You didn’t have to do that.”

              Ronnie handed me my phone. “Don’t worry about it.”

              “I don’t know why it wasn’t working.”
Besides the fact that I overspent
.

              Ronnie looked me in the eyes. “It’s good. You don’t have to worry about it.”

              I need him to say those words to me for the rest of my life, I thought.

***

              My chapter sorors gradually began to flood his home, and his backyard became a sea of pink and green hues. Being in the company of my sorors—the laughter, the smiles, the jokes, and encouraging words exchanged between us—effortlessly melted away my qualms. For that moment, I wasn’t worried about the direction of my life, about how I was going to maintain the lifestyle I’ve always known, or how I was going to win Ronnie’s heart. My brain temporarily got a chance to relax from plotting and scheming, and I was able to bask in the one thing in my life that I certainly accomplished –the love from my sisterhood.

              Those women surrounding me would have taken care of me the best they could, had my pride allowed me to let them in on what was really going on in my life. I was broke. I had no career. And those floral arrangements presented to the Crystal Sorors should have gone towards the mediocre apartment that I’d soon be forced to live in once my parents kick me out. The BCBG outfit, Fendi sandals, and Dior perfume I wore probably should be sold on eBay. …And the Nola… the fancy Nola… the
“put it on my tab because I got it”
Nola… the lucrative career, so successful at such a young age, Nola… that they had grown to know, isn’t Nola for real. The crazy part is that they wouldn’t have cared. They would have loved me and supported me either way,
BUT I CARED
. I was already considered the incompetent one in my real family. I wasn’t about to be that in this one. I used my fingertips to suppress the tears that were dampening the corners of my eyes.

              My sorors began to gather to prepare a presentation for a soror battling breast cancer. She was about to be gifted a check of $2,700 from all of us. While they did that, I snuck away and headed to the house.

              I charged up the stairs of the deck. “Where’s Ronnie?”

              Two of the young men shrugged holding aluminum trays of mini quiche Florentines and antipasto salad. One of them pointed in the direction of the kitchen.

              My heart pounded at the thought of what I was about to do, but I needed to catapult my love interest. The sooner we’d date and fall in love, the seamless my transition would be from living with my parents and struggling finances, to living securely with Ronnie.

              It was perfect timing. Ronnie and his sexy lips were standing by the oven. He had just pulled out dessert—tiramisu. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and went for the kill.

              "Let me help you with that..."

              "Nola, don't. It’s hot!"

              I shrieked and dropped the pan. The tiramisu splattered on his floor. I wiggled my singed fingertips. "Ow! Ow! Owwww!"

              "Why would you... Are you crazy?! Let me look at it."

              I extended my hand to Ronnie. The care in his eyes was enough to ease the pain from my minor burns. I pouted, "I feel so silly. I just wanted to help."

              Ronnie took my hand over to the sink and ran it under the cold water. Tiny blisters formed on all of my fingers. While he grabbed his first aid kit, Marley walked in from the backyard.

              "There you are. I was looking for you! “She slowly stepped around the mess on the floor and her eyes widened when she saw my blistered fingers under the tap. “What happened?!"

              Ronnie took my hand and patted it with a dry cloth. "Your girl thinks she's invincible."

              I nudged him with my elbow, "Stop it…. I was trying to give Ronnie a hand, and I ended up burning mine."

              "Oh wow! I was just about to tell you that after dessert we were gonna wrap-up with prayer and head on to the farm."

              "Yeah y’all should just go on without me. I’m not quite in the mood after this. I’m gonna stay here until the pain subsides."

              Marley frowned. "Are you sure?" She moved in closer to get a better a look at my hand. "Doesn’t look
that
bad….  Do you want me to stay back with you?"

              I winced while Ronnie applied ointment. "No, Marley. You and Bailey both need to go without me. You have to take my place as Chair."

              Marley nodded proudly, "Of course! Definitely..." She gently placed her hand on her father's shoulder. "Daddy, you ok with handling Nola? You need anything?"

              "I got it baby girl”

              The affectionate grin that Ronnie gave his daughter was similar to the ads you'd see for Colgate and Cheerio commercials. It made me resent my own father even more. That could have been us patting each other on the shoulder, smiling, and asking if assistance was needed. We could have been giving each other nicknames like "baby girl" or "daddy-o."

***

              I was highly annoyed that our sorors kept thanking and acknowledging Marley for having her father host us.
It wasn't her idea; it was mine
. I was even more annoyed that she smiled pretty and said, "thank you" with a hair flip like I would have done. It began to feel as if Marley was slowly but surely becoming a miniature me, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Yet, President Gabrielle still presented
me
with a larger appreciation gift bag of goodies, as usual, so I didn't make a fuss of it. On top of that, all of the sorors were finally leaving me alone with my boo Ronnie, and that's all I really cared about.

              When the last soror pulled off, I blew a kiss from the front door and joined Ronnie in his kitchen. "Let me help you with something, Ronnie."

              "No! Heck no. You're accident prone. You sit over there. Waaaaaaaaay over there."

              I laughed at the exaggerated expression on his face. "Don't be like that."

              He was tidying up the little bit that the rented cleaners didn’t get to, like the dishes in the dishwasher. While he put pots and pans away, I bent over and rested my elbows on the counter beside him, purposely brushing up against his arm. I heard him exhale as he walked around me, trying to get to the other side of the cabinet.

              "What are your plans tonight?" I asked casually.

              "Let’s see. I put in sixteen hours of preparation all week for tomorrow’s sermon. I think I have another four more."

              "Twenty hours of prep for a, what, two-hour service? Sounds extreme..."

              "It takes research, reading, and prayer."

              "You think God will let you take a break?" I glanced at my rose gold watch. "It's only ten minutes until five o’clock. We can be back by 6:30 p.m.” I couldn't take my eyes off the pastor's lips. I wanted to taste them badly, and I wanted them to be acquainted with mine.

              He rubbed his smooth bald head and pulled his phone from his pocket, probably checking for any missed calls from his ugly girlfriend. "Where are you trying to go?"

              I smiled. "That restaurant I told you about… the Moroccan one."