Beautiful Liar (9 page)

              And with that, I sped off.

              When I got home from shopping at Neiman Marcus that evening, the smell of dark roast coffee greeted my nostrils as soon as I walked through the door. Right away, I knew that Derrick was there.

              The manny was in the living room wearing his signature outfit—Bermuda shorts and an American Eagle tank. He was holding a mug to his mouth, and with his legs crossed, he shook his dangling foot and bobbed his head to the tunes of the hit show GLEE. He was happily enjoying his downtime now that Dominic was asleep. He was so into his show that he didn’t even glance at the shopping bag that I dropped onto the couch, right next to him. And usually, he digs right in hoping to find something that I was willing to give.

              I plopped my Givenchy tote on the kitchen counter, nearly startling my older brother who was just powering off the Keurig.

              “I thought y’all broke up.”

              “Alicia and I are happily married. You’ve seen Facebook. Why would you think we’re broken up?” Derrick’s diamond cufflinks sparkled as he buried his nose in his coffee mug and took a hefty gulp.

              He was a social media celebrity just because he was so freaking perfect and the world adored him. He had that type of perfection that would make you barf. In fact, he was like the male Beyoncé—there wasn’t anything he couldn’t master. His Instagram account was loaded with pictures of the perfect two-week international vacations that he and his wife haven taken, the perfect gifts that he showers his parents with, and his perfect hobbies like mountain climbing and feeding the hungry in Peru.

              I snatched his mug and sat it on the counter. “You know who I’m talking about. You didn’t drive all the way here from Philly,
two
nights in row, for Keurig coffee out of mom’s and dad’s kitchen.”

              “Remember, just because you know, doesn’t mean I have to answer to you. How many times do I have to reiterate?”

              I snarled, “You’re every wife’s worst nightmare.”

              “And, you’ll probably never know what it’s like to be a wife.”

              I slid Derrick his mug and flipped him the finger.

              “Where are you coming from?”

              I ignored him and hopped on the counter. I pulled out my phone and began re-reading Ronnie’s text messages. I wondered why he hadn’t shot me a
“Hey, I’ve been thinking about you”
text
yet, or did I need to be the one who reaches out?
Hmmm I bet a selfie with cleavage would be a good conversation starter
.

              “Why are you smiling like that?”

              “Like what?” I switched my phone to the camera and checked my reflection.

              Derrick sipped then point at me. “We may not speak as much as we should, so you can play dumb all you want. But I know you, Nola. I know that look really well. So tell me, who are you screwing?”

              “Stay outta my panties and get your own, Derrick. Besides, if I told you, you’d probably find him and screw him, too.”

              “Like the couple of times I bent over Trav?”               Derrick burst into laughter when I shot my head up from my phone. “Calm down. I’m kidding.”

              I punched his arm. “You’re so disgusting!”

              “Who are you screwing?” he pushed again.

              “Who are you screwing in Delaware?”

              “Don’t be childish.”

              I smirked. “Alicia is gonna find out one day. What’s done in the dark, always come to light.”

              Derrick snickered and ran his hand through his curly hair—jet black, silky curls that the girls from our neighborhood used to fall for. “We never do it in the dark.”

              “You’re disgusting.”

              “So you’re not gonna tell me?”

              I hopped off the counter and grabbed my tote. “His name is Ronnie… and he’s Marley’s father” I tossed my phone back into my purse. “Goodnight.”

              “Wait, say that again?”

              “You heard me.”

              “And you’re calling
me
disgusting?” Derrick threw his head back and laughed almost uncontrollably. “So Marley is fine with you sleeping with her father?”

              “We aren’t sleeping together…yet. And, we aren’t seeing each other…yet. But, if we do, when we do start seeing each other, she’ll be just as fine with it as Alicia is fine with your cheating.”

              “Don’t date the woman’s father. She’s supposed to be your friend.”

              “And Alicia’s supposed to be your wife.”

              “When Marley kills you, just know I’ll be at your funeral laughing.”

              “You’ll already be dead. I’m so sure your wife will get to you first.” I glanced over to the living room area. The manny was deep into the television. “Seriously, you need to stop before it gets ugly.”

              Derrick rubbed his forehead and yawned. “Don’t go there with me tonight, Nola. I’m too tired.”

              After he grabbed his mug and walked away, his phone vibrated next to me on the counter. The word “WIFEY” flashed across the screen, as if we had spoken her up. I flipped the phone over, grabbed my bag, and left it to buzz.

              "No, thank you. I'm gonna sit in the front."

              The usher in her white gloves pointed to the pew furthest in the back and way to the left. She nodded her head as if she didn't hear me.

              I said it again. "No. I'm going to sit in the front."

              She shook her head and pointed once more. This time, I tried to slide by her, but she bumped and blocked me like she was a nightclub bouncer!

              "Dang. Is it that serious??" I snapped.

              She didn't budge. Standing there with her arms folded and her lips tight. She was looking directly in my face like "
try me if you want to
." But she continued tapping her foot to the rhythm of the booming drums, horns, keyboard, and the boisterous choir. To save myself from any more embarrassment, I kindly tilted my gigantic floppy hat and maneuvered my way to a pew in the pack.

              I came to church alone since Marley wanted to spend Easter with her fiancé and his family. I thought about bringing Dominic, but as I practically climbed over kneecaps to sit elbow to elbow between an elderly man and a teenager, I felt glad that I didn't. Crowds overwhelm him, and this time it seemed like it was way more people there than the last week. 

              I could barely see Ronnie, so I was sure he couldn't see me even in my oversized floppy hat. That was disappointing, because I wore my dress for him. A black A-line Marc Jacobs with embroidery along the sides. It was sexy yet conservative, falling just below my kneecaps. People have always said that you should dress for the position you want. Well, I felt like the First Lady of Worship Way. All I needed was Ronnie to capture the visual. …Unfortunately, he never got the chance to do so.

              After service, the lobby was packed tight like the ATL Greek Picnic. And it was hot, too. On top of that, anybody I made eye contact with wanted to give me a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a "Happy Resurrection Sunday" in response to my “Happy Easter”. When a woman managed to smear her caked up foundation onto my dress, I got tired of waiting for Ronnie and kicked off my sandals, jetting to the parking lot.

              "Nola!"

              My heart leaped as I swung in the direction of a man’s familiar voice... but it was just Silas. Disappointed, I turned back around and continued pacing to my car.

              "Nola! I know you hear me."

              I heard his footsteps picking up behind me, and seconds later, he was tapping me on my shoulder.

              "You have no dignity at all." I said, tossing my hat and shoes in the back.

              “Why you so mean?” Silas took my wrist. "Nice bracelet. You iced out, huh?"

              I snatched my arm back. "I'm not interested in you. Quit stalking me."

              Silas grinned, "I want what I want. Don't confuse persistence with stalking, little lady."

              “
Little?--
Don't confuse persistence with desperateness."

              "Whatever. Let's go."

              "What?"

              Silas reached into my car, grabbed my sandals, and handed them to me. "I said, let's go. I'm taking you out." He motioned with his head. “My car is right there.”

              I looked at his black Infinity and then back at him. “Wow. You take desperate to another level. Now you’re abducting me?”

              “Don’t be a stubborn mule. Follow me.”

              He took my hand and wedged each of his fingers in between mine. Then he gently kissed them and winked at me. His lips were soft and warm yet as powerful as a wrecking ball, almost—only almost—knocking down my wall of defense.

              I smirked. "What are you doing? Trying to seduce me in the church parking lot?"

              "It depends how you feel about it."

              I shook my head. “You are so freaking corny!"
You’re lucky you’re somewhat cute
.

***

              Silas sped down I-95 blasting a gospel hip-hop artist whose name he said was Lecrae.

              I shouted over the music, "What if I had plans?"

              "You don't."

              Thirty minutes ago, I asked him where we were going. He shrugged his shoulders and told me that he was just winging it. After that kind of response, any normal person probably would have had their phone in their hand, and their thumb resting over the EMERGENCY button just in case. But I wasn’t getting any alarming vibes from Silas. If anything, something about the mysterious glare in his eyes peaked my curiosity. I wanted to know more about this man... just a little bit. However, if he did turn out to be a predator, I definitely had my pocketknife and stun gun resting at the bottom of my Chanel tote.

              I asked him again, "Where are we going?”

              He put his finger to his lips and Shhhh’d me.

              I ignored him. “How are you even sure that you wanna take me? I could be crazy, you know."

              Silas smirked and glanced at me, "Could be? No, there’s no ‘could be.’ You definitely got some screws loose up there, I can tell."

              I smacked his arm. “It’s too soon for you to jump from corn-ball to jackass.”

              He laughed, and when he smiled big, his eyes got chinky and adorable. Aside from his suits being too short for his height, Silas was pretty fly for a church boy. He had a cool, laid back, yet rebellious flare to him that made him intriguing, and I wondered how I didn’t pick it up the first time we met. Maybe it was the corny, shrunken yellow suit that he wore that day. Maybe Ronnie gave me tunnel vision. Whatever it was, his overall swag was on point today, again, aside from the suit. He wore grey slacks and a checkered pink and grey button up that he loosened at the collar. It was a nice combination but the shirtsleeves stopped below his wrist. He matched his outfit with tan shoes, which were actually shoe-boots. No one would have known this had his pants legs fallen where they were supposed to. Even his thick, curly red hair looked more attractive with the way it looked blonde against the beaming sun. I was even attracted to how he drove with a lean, bobbing, and weaving through traffic, doing twenty above the speed limit, nodding his head to the beat, and humming - sometimes singing - to the hooks of the Lecrae songs. Nevertheless, I tried hard not to gape or show that I might be remotely attracted to him.

              I gave him the side-eye, "Where's your family? It's Easter; shouldn’t you be at a dinner?"

              Silas’s eyes didn't leave the road once. In fact, he stiffened as he dryly asked, "Where's yours?"

              I rolled my eyes and huffed, "We're not big on holidays."

He quickly nixed the topic. "So… why you been dogging me?... I know I’m not ugly.”

              I couldn’t help but giggle.

              “I’m serious. You ignore me like I don’t have a job… like I’m some untalented hood guy relying on a rap career that’ll never happen. Or, are you that type who likes them bum dudes who don't have nothing going for themselves but swag?"

             
Humph
. I wanted to tell him that I was crushing on his pastor. But then it would’ve been an awkward ride back to the church and most likely, it would’ve reached Marley. I wasn't ready to put up with her temper tantrums. Nor was I ready to listen to her spill about how she feels it in her bones that I’m NOT the step-mommy she envisioned from God. I simply told Silas that I wasn't dating right now.

              He chuckled sarcastically. "Oh. I know your type. You’re that woman who puts her love life on hold to establish her career."

              Definitely not.
Even though he was way off, I let him continue.

             
"You know you gonna end up forty, single, miserable and lonely? Everybody will be calling you auntie. Not mom. Not grandma. Not Mrs.…. Just auntie."

              I entertained his theory. "At least I’ll be a filthy rich auntie! Money could buy my happiness. It damn sure does now!"

              Silas shook his red-haired head and wagged his finger. “I know that you became successful at a young age and all, but trust me; you don’t wanna end up like the old women at my office. They go home to Netflix every single night, psyching themselves up to believe they’re satisfied with living their lives viciously through reality shows and through their daughters. Don’t end up like them. You’re way too beautiful for that, shorty.”

***

              We pulled up at a gorgeous beach house right off of the Rehoboth Beach Boardwalk. The interior was immaculate and looked like something right out of a home-furnishing magazine. It had five bedrooms, one office, and three bathrooms. There was a fully equipped kitchen, and a cozy living room area with grey furniture decorated with sea green and blue accents. There were ginormous canvas art sketches of flying seagulls, paintings of idle beach chairs, and an oil painting of the bay hung about the walls. There were large wicker blade ceiling fans in every room and an oversized patio door with an oceanic view to die for.

              After touring the place, Silas tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and poured us both a glass of water in champagne flutes.

              “I’m not a drinker,” he said in response to my frowned up face.

              “But should I suffer?”

              He laughed.

              “This is a beautiful home. Are you living here right now?”

              “A vacation spot that I own. I come here sometimes to clear my head. To chill out--”

“I knew it. You’re a loner.”

“ - and draw.”

“Are you any good?”

“You tell me?”  Silas motioned towards the hanging canvas art.

“That’s your work?” I asked in disbelief. “Impressive! I assumed you spent a grand on these!”

Silas raised his eyebrows and grinned, “Chill… it’s not that good.”

              He grabbed our glasses, and I followed him onto the deck. It was right then when I noticed that he walked with a hunch,. As if people told him, his entire like, that he was too tall.

              “Pastor likes to come here for his vacation.”

              My eyebrows lifted, “Marley’s father?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Does he?”

              “He comes every August. A preferred guest. Stays here just for the weekend, sometimes. Pastors don’t actually vacation. You know what I mean?”

              Immediately, I pictured myself being snuggled with Ronnie on the deck, watching the wave’s crash against the sand.

              Silas jerked me from my thoughts. “You hungry?”

              I nudged his arm and snatched my glass. “Of course I am. You dragged me all the way down here; you could at least cook me something and get me a real drink.”

              Unlike Ronnie, Silas wasn’t a cook. Since I haven’t been over a stove since Trav, we opted for greasy boardwalk pizza, fries, and funnel cake. Silas got the food alone because I wasn’t about to hit the boardwalk with my Prada’s. While he was gone, I snuggled deep into the large sectional and flipped thru channels, imagining life as Ronnie’s wife. We’d come here every August, parlay on this very couch. We’d be in love and in total bliss. We’d bring Dominic down with us, and maybe even get a dog, since children probably wouldn’t be an option. I’d be the perfect wife for him—a housewife. I’d give him the space he needs to focus on his sermons, yet be there at his beck and call when he needed me or
needed it
. I’d be his ball of energy, keeping him young, fresh, and happy. He’d keep me happy by showering me with love, affection, and the finest gifts. He’d be the total package that he already is, and I couldn’t wait to get him where he belonged.

              When Silas returned, he flashed a bottle of Chardonnay and a huge grin. It was not at all my preference, but I leaped off the couch and cheered anyway.
It beats water
. We sat on the deck and stuffed our faces while I listened to long winded Silas talk about life, career, and family. I dipped in and out of the conversation to daydream about Ronnie. However, the part I did pay the most attention to was when he talked about his mother.

              He spoke of how she physically abused him while he was a kid, but he loved her deeply anyhow. She was all that he had besides his crippled grandparents, and he never met his father. Then, he told me that when he was fifteen, his mother had abandoned him, marrying a man she only known for three weeks. She moved to Texas to be with her new husband and his family, and poor Silas was left in Philly to live with his grandparents.

              "She said I needed to stay and finish up the school year. When that ended, she said she wanted me to do another year. By the time that ended, man, I had caught on. She had no intentions on bringing me. I stopped asking. She never brought it up. ‘Til this day she hasn’t brought up visiting."