Drive Me Crazy (12 page)

I nodded. “Yeah. Would be hard to give this up.”

“The only way I’d get to keep this, to keep all of this and have you...”

I paused. Waited for her to finish wiping water from her face and give me her words.

She said, “I keep hoping that his fucking plane will crash on the way to Vegas or back. Double indemnity would kick in and the post-man wouldn’t even have to ring my bell.”

I didn’t say anything. Her tone told me how serious she was. That shit was disturbing.

Point blank, she asked, “Ever killed anybody?”

I swallowed, took a hard breath. “Beat a few motherfuckers down.”

“How bad?”

“Sent a few busters to the hospital.”

“You hurt a lot of people when you were in jail?”

“Didn’t fight as much on lockdown, not after that first couple of fights got me respect. That’s about it.”

“Never killed?”

I skipped my answer. “What about you?”

“Shot a couple of gangbangers.” She said that like it was no big deal. “That was in my rookie year. One came at me with a butcher knife. The other wouldn’t put down his weapon.”

“That’s self-defense.”

“Hell yeah. I was scared as fuck. You have no idea how scared I was. It’s one of our basic instincts. Self-preservation kicks in and you do what you have to do to survive.”

I thought about self-preservation. Doing what I had to do to survive.

I asked, “You go out on stress?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Therapy?”

“For what? I just wanted to take some time off and chill. I went to Europe.”

My eyes went to hers. There was coldness in her eyes. Like someone who had been shoved around too much, too long. She created an instant smile and that coldness turned warm.

She said, “Twenty thousand. How does that sound? Like a fair price?”

“You serious?”

“This could work. Like strangers on a train, we have no connection. No e-mails. No faxes. When you come by here, you come at night and leave while it’s still dark.”

“Yeah, I’m your phantom fuck. Your backdoor lover. I don’t exist.”

“Not to anybody but me. Hardly a phone call between us. You don’t come on the days that the maid comes. Nobody sees you. They’re too busy nurturing their own indiscretions.”

I went silent. Looked around at her paradise. Asked myself if I’d kill to have it.

She said, “You could do a lot with twenty thousand. It would be tax-free money, so that’s the equivalent of thirty large.”

“Not like I’d notify the IRS.”

“What would you do if you had that much money? I’m talking cash money.”

For a man like me, twenty thousand was a million dollars.

I said, “Sit on it until hard times got softer.”

Momma needed some financial relief. She had been up and down since Reverend Daddy died. Living off public assistance. Rufus, he wasn’t doing well, wasn’t really working, living off Pasquale, taking experimental drugs. That money could help a lot with a few of his bills.

“Could be a good start.”

“Yeah. Could be.”

“Or better yet, you could stack your chips. Try and buy a house.”

I mumbled out my dreams. “Yeah, buy a house. Get up on some real estate.”

“Real estate is a win-win.”

I nodded my agreement. Thought about getting that money and moving east, as far as San Bernardino, where property was cheaper, get away from every-fucking-body that had dragged me down, then felt bad for thinking about myself, nobody but myself.

She said, “That’s where the money is. Property. You’re a good handyman. Maybe buy something, do the repairs yourself, and flip it. Do that once or twice, you’d be rolling.”

“Yeah. I could buy something and flip it. Double, hell, triple my investment in a year.”

“Well? Twenty thousand. How does that sound?”

“That could help me come up big time.”

She smiled like she was nothing but sunshine. “I want you to come up.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, baby.”

“How would you get up on that much cash without raising a red flag?”

She laughed and shook her head. I’d forgotten who I was talking to. It was all relative. When people lived in houses like these, that kind of mad money was stuck in a sock drawer.

I went back to the pool, swam a few more laps, and thought about it. Twenty large. In my world that was a lot of money. Momma and Reverend Daddy never had that much money, barely made much more than that in a good year. I’d never held that much money, not all at once. Had never seen those kind of digits standing side-by-side, not in my checking account.

Lisa had come out of the Jacuzzi, was sitting on the edge of the pool.

I got out on the opposite side, away from her, thinking about self-preservation.

She kicked water my way, asked, “You love me?”

I nodded. Too much was on the table. Wasn’t time for a broke man to shake his head.

She swam to me. Kissed my neck down to my penis, took me in her mouth again, did all of that without warning. Her mouth was warm, her movements smooth. It took a moment, things were on my mind, but I rose hard and strong. Moaned with my hand in her wet hair, watched that part of me vanish into her face, then reappear, then vanish, reappear.

She moaned. “We could be like this every day.”

She stroked me with her hand, smiled and watched my expression. Skills. She had skills. When I told her that I was about to come, she took me in her mouth, made greedy sounds, swallowed all I had to give. She kept going until I was drained, became too sensitive. Had to hold her face and ask her to stop. She bathed me with her tongue before she moved away.

She rested her head in my lap, her smile wide and hot.

She said, “To be honest, I miss being with ... with a black man. You have no idea. I need you. I need your history, your pains, I need you to give me all that and let me give you mine.”

“Why the white boy?”

“Dunno. Think I was going through a phase. You know, fuck what people think. Mad at black men. Done with black men. I mean, this white guy stumbled into my world and—”

“Stumbled?”

“Before I left LAPD I caught him speeding and running a red light down Crenshaw and Adams. Wolf was polite, but came on strong. Took my badge number. Sent me flowers.”

“Drove you around in his Lamborghini.”

“Yup. Took me to his house in Vegas. On the way we hit that strip between Barstow and Vegas and opened that bitch up. By the time we zoomed out 1-15 and passed by the Zzyzx exit sign, we were moving like a jet plane. He let me gun it all the way to Baker.”

I reached over, rubbed her breast. “Bet that made your panties wet. ”

“Sure did. It was orgasmic. Then he took me to the track and let me run it. You haven’t lived until you run a Lamborghini on a track.”

“And the Cessna ...”

“Multi-orgasmic.”

“Treated you like you were Cinderella.”

“Australia. Paris. I’d never been treated like that. Treated me better than my daddy. The only thing that bothered me was that he wasn’t ...” She motioned at her complexion.

I said, “You knew that going in.”

“And he lied.”

“The affair?”

“What he called his ‘momentary lapse in faithfulness.’ ”

I nodded. “He fucked around.”

“I think that was inevitable. All women expect that at some point. He’s handsome. Rich. We all expect men to be men.” Her eyes darkened, became those of a woman scorned. “What hurt me was ... when the affair came out he slipped and confessed something else.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “I don’t like being fucked over. Not at all.”

“What did he confess?”

“I told him that he could’ve gotten that bitch pregnant and he told me that there was no way for that to happen.” She laughed an angry laugh, an intense laugh, the bitter kind that showed the dark side of a person’s soul. “He’d had a vasectomy after his first divorce. He can’t have kids. Here I am trying to get pregnant, thinking that something’s wrong with me ...”

“Damn.”

“He’d been acting like he was all for us having a baby. Had me paranoid, walking around thinking my shit was fucked up.”

I chuckled at the man’s brilliance. “He got his nuts cut on the DL.”

“I knew about his court-ordered child support, about his divorce, about his property, his cars, knew everything before the first date. No lawsuits. No bankruptcies. Clean as hell. He didn’t even have a speeding ticket. I found out all I could about him, but that got by me.”

“No tickets. You didn’t write him up?”

She smiled.

I went on, “You knew everything
before
the first date? What’s up with that?”

She ran her hand across her hair. “Nothing. Skip it.”

I told her, “You ran a background check on the white boy.”

“Damn right. Of course. But not everything shows up when you run background.”

“Not medical.”

She nodded, then shook her head. “Not medical.”

I asked, “You run background on all the men you date?”

She nodded my way. “Memphis. Your wife and brother were with you. They found a hundred pounds of marijuana and fifty thousand in cash in your Explorer. Trafficking. You would’ve done at least six years, but you had a good attorney, jails were overcrowded, your crime was nonviolent, had a clean record, a first-time offender, got away with doing two years.”

I stared at her. A very uncomfortable stare. She’d been swimming in my Kool-Aid.

She said, “It’s public record. Can be pulled on the Department of Corrections Web site.”

I let her words ride. The reason I’d never be allowed to vote was available to anybody with access to cyberspace. God bless the Internet. It was my record, but it wasn’t the truth.

She went back to talking about her husband, voiced her own angst while I marinated in mine, said, “So, with the prenuptial that says none of this is mine, and since he can’t get me pregnant, won’t consider having a child anytime soon, you know how that shit makes me feel?”

I cleared my throat. “Tell me.”

“Like a whore. Makes me feel like I’m here just to service him. I’m nobody’s whore. What he’s done ... the lies ... how he’s bamboozled me ... people get killed over crap like that.”

“What was his excuse?”

“Oh, please. He said he could have it reversed when he was ready. When he was ready.” Her anger had tripled. “I’m forty. I’m not twenty-five. You know what I’m saying?”

I nodded. “You’re serious about ... him having an accident.”

“I’m serious, accident or otherwise.”

I took a deep breath, let it out slow and easy.

Her frown deepened, made her skin wrinkle and look ten years older as she gazed around at the topography. “You don’t know how hard this is.”

“How hard what is?”

“I gave up my job. Quit the force to be his wife and help him run his business. Wanted to have a normal life, come correct and devote myself to him, be old-fashioned, let him lead.”

I sat up. Put my feet in the warm water, moved them back and forth.

She sat up, leaned against me. “I don’t like being fucked over.”

Time crept by on the edge of a cool breeze. She rubbed my back, my shoulders.

I said, “I don’t like being fucked over either. Don’t like people playing Dick Tracy.”

“Are you mad because I know about your record?”

I didn’t answer, just asked, “What happens if he gets killed, accident or otherwise?”

“He’s covered. Insurance pays off the house.”

“His kids?”

“His kids are taken care of, but so am I.”

“Then?”

“Life goes on.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Then, after I dry my eyes, all I’ll need is a king. A queen in a castle like this, a king will be all I need. I’ll be able to afford everything. But a woman can’t do everything by herself. I’ll just need somebody to give me beautiful and strong babies. Somebody to be here and be Daddy.”

I glanced around. You got invited into a playground like that and it was hard to unplug yourself and go back to your own reality. I’d been in prison. I’d grown up on the shopworn side of L.A. and stolen to put food on the table. This was the picture-perfect life we all wanted. You wanted them fucking palm trees, that damn pool, the Jacuzzi, the eight bedrooms. You wanted the woman. You wanted all of that shit. I’d savored another man’s wine and loved its flavor.

Lisa kissed me. “Love you.”

“Love you back.”

She pulled me on top of her, put me inside her. I moved slow and easy. Moved like that until her back arched, an orgasm heated her spine, and she sent her soft message to the moon.

She caught her breath, held onto me, whispered, “You come?”

“Nah.”

“Don’t. Save it for me.”

We went into the steam room. She rubbed me down with a sugar scrub, massaged me, cleansed me, then took me in her mouth again. Got me firm then mounted me. She was on fire, horny as hell, filled with desire to please. Had me whimpering, moaning, holding her ass. She came strong then went down to her knees again, took me back in her mouth, licked me like I was made of candy. I vanished. Reappeared. She wouldn’t stop until I came again. Came so hard.

She swallowed my seeds, posted up her wide smile again. “Love the way you taste.”

I couldn’t talk. Hadn’t caught my breath.

The steam was so thick we could barely see each other. She adjusted the settings, did the same with the temperature on both the side and overhead showerheads.

I said, “What you’re talking about ... killing a man ... that shit ain’t easy.”

“As easy as we make it.”

“I was locked up with men who thought putting somebody in the dirt was a good idea.”

“Those were stupid people. I used to be a cop. Still am in my head.”