Eye for an Eye (14 page)

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Authors: Dwayne S. Joseph

BOOK: Eye for an Eye
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I hit him, spit on him, and then turn and start the engine.
Soon, you goddamned whore. So very soon you will pay for what you did.
28
Two minutes out of the gym's parking lot, I was on my BlackBerry. My right hand was clenched tightly around my steering wheel, while my left hand found Marlene's number and hit the send button.
My heart beat heavily. Beads of sweat ran down my forehead. Stress. That's what the sweat consisted of. Stress and anxiety.
Someone knew. Someone had sent my mother. Who? Why? More importantly, how? How in the hell could someone have known?
I just made it through a yellow light, then ran a red. To hell with the traffic ticket if it came. I opened and closed my fingers around the wheel. Marlene's phone rang once, twice, and then another time before she answered.
“Hey!”
My godson was crying in the background. Screaming actually.
I said, “My mother . . . she was here. Someone knows about Kyra. Do you know who? Did you have anything to do with this?”
Benjamin screamed out. Heard him stomp his feet. Marlene tried to calm him down. Told him to, “Hold on, sweetie. It's coming.” She must have given him his milk because the wailing stopped instantly. “OK,” Marlene said, her attention back on me. “Now what are you talking about, Lisette? Your mother? Kyra? Did I have anything to do with what?”
I clenched my jaw, and took a slow, deep breath. I'd rambled. Something I never do. I needed to get a hold of myself. Needed to calm down. I came to a stop at a red light. “My mother came to see me at the gym tonight. She had a newspaper clipping about Kyra's disappearance on it. Written in red across the article were the words, ‘your daughter knows what happened to her.'”
“What?”
“She also had a plain piece of paper with my home address along with the gym's address and today's date and time of the kickboxing class I just finished.”
Marlene said again, “What?”
“Someone sent the clipping and the piece of paper to her.”
“Your mother? I don't understand. Why? I mean, you haven't spoken to her in years.”
One night over drinks, I'd confided in Marlene the story of my mother's abandonment. It had been one of Marlene's rare free nights. Steve had actually picked up Benjamin for his appointed weekend, and Marlene wanted to get out of the house and get some dinner and drinks. We went to Publics in Nolita. Marlene had grilled kangaroo on a coriander falafel with red wine. I had pan-seared Tasmanian sea trout with my never-fail drink of choice–cosmopolitan.
I hadn't planned on opening up about my past, but for some reason that night, I did. I blamed it on the humidity of the evening. Marlene said that whether I wanted to admit it or not, she'd broken through my very hard shell and had become something I'd never had–a girlfriend.
I said, “I know.”
“Who else knows about her?”
“No one.”
“So then how did someone know how to get in touch with her? And they sent her information about Kyra?”
“Newspaper clippings.”
“And the gym's address?”
“I was subbing for our instructor who just happened to get robbed and had a few ribs and his ankle broken.”
“And your mother was given today's date?” Marlene said. “Jesus,” she whispered.
I made a right turn on Lexington Avenue.
“The robbery was no coincidence,” I said. “Someone set this up.”
“But . . . but who? And why? Jesus, Lisette, what the hell is going on?”
“I don't know, Marlene. That's why I'm calling you. Someone knows I had something to do with Kyra's disappearance.”
“Christ, Lisette. I don't even know what happened.”
I'd never told her how I'd given Kyra my regards. All she ever knew was that I'd gotten her back for ever thinking she was better than me, and that was all she needed to know.
“I don't know who the hell this person is, but I need to know ASAP.”
In the background Benjamin began to whine again. Marlene grunted. I could tell she'd picked him up. “All right, sweetie . . . just close your eyes,” she said in a soothing tone, before saying to me, “What do you want me to do?”
“Call your friend Lisa. Ask her again about her association with Kyra.”
“OK, but I don't know how much information I'll get. She swears that she didn't give the number to Kyra directly. She said she gave it to a friend, and that friend gave it to Kyra.”
“Find out who the friend is.”
“I'll try.”
“Don't try, Marlene. Find this person. Tonight.”
“OK. But what if I can't find out anything?”
“Then call all of our clients. Ask them if they knew about Kyra. And if they didn't, then ask if their friends did.”
“OK.” Marlene hushed Benjamin again as I made a left onto 123
rd
street. I was in Harlem, driving with intense purpose. “Lisette . . . what if none of the clients know anything? Who else is there?”
I sped through a red light. Ignored blaring car horns as I did. “Myles Rogers,” I said. He didn't know what I'd done, but if anyone, other than Lisa, her friend, or my three thugs, could say anything about my relationship with her, it would be him.
“That makes sense,” Marlene said.
“Get Benji to sleep and then make those calls. Call me when you have something.”
I ended the call, tossed my BlackBerry onto my passenger seat and gritted my teeth as I raced through a yellow light.
Myles Rogers.
Last time I'd seen him, I'd thrown his laptop into the middle of the street.
Myles Rogers.
He could talk, but I'd saved his ass. I doubted he'd give me up to anyone, but I needed to know for sure.
29
Aida was the one who was late this time, purposefully. It was another hot day–about eighty-five degrees. The humidity was back after having taken a couple of days off, and made eighty-five feel like ninety.
Aida had plans for the day. She was going to wash her car, go to the mall to buy a new string bikini, and then hit Victoria's Secret for something special to wear later that night when she saw Griffin again.
She'd spoken to him earlier in the day, not because she had to or needed to, but instead because she wanted to. When they spoke he told her that he couldn't stop thinking about her. That he'd been having dreams about her. Hot dreams. Intense dreams. Dreams that consisted of them being naked and intertwined.
Aida had masturbated while they'd talked. The sound of Griffin's voice, the memory of the sex they'd had in the back seat of his Escalade a few days earlier, and then in a hotel room later that night, still very fresh in her mind. She moaned loudly, breathlessly, as she fingered herself deeply to the rhythm and deep tone of Griffin's voice as he told her all about the things he'd done to her in his dreams. Things he promised he was going to do to her next time. Rough things. Deep things. Fast, slow, potent things. Things that made Aida squirm as she lay back, planted her heels on her Tempur-Pedic mattress, and spread her legs wide.
Aida's fingers dove deep into her warm pool of ecstasy between her legs, making her catch her breath. Griffin coached her as she played. He had her go faster, deeper. Told her to put as many fingers as she could inside. Ordered her to taste herself and describe her sweetness to him. Aida rocked her hips from side to side. Allowed her fingers to become Griffin's dick. Let them pound her the way he had. The way he would have again, had he been there. She cursed, squealed, called his name, told him how good he felt. Told him that she had to have him again. That she needed to feel him again. Her hips rose off of the bed and her legs shook as she came to the suave and sexy sounds of Griffin's commands. It wasn't as good as the real thing, but, shit, it had been a very close second. Before the phone call ended, they made plans to see each other later that night.
Aida knew Griffin was a dog. A man who had absolutely no respect for women. He was narcissistic to the 9
th
degree. Had Jesus not done it already, he would have claimed walking on water as his feat alone. He was a self-satisfying, selfish, insensitive bastard. He was the kind of man Lisette and Aida enjoyed taking down. Yet as much as she knew she shouldn't have been, Aida was finding herself getting hooked. So much so that she began to wonder is she was going to be able to let Griffin become nonexistent after the job was completed.
Lisette would be thoroughly disappointed.
The freak in her was beginning to cloud her judgment, and she knew that she had to get a grip. This was a job and when the job was over, she had to move on.
Aida told herself that as she'd washed her car, as she shopped for the new string bikini, and as she stopped in Victoria's Secret and bought a matching red lace bra and panties. Do the job, get that money and keep it moving.
She could handle it.
Lisette had chosen her because she'd expected her to.
She could handle it.
She would handle it.
Aida told herself that as she stepped into Starbucks. She was there because earlier in the day, Marlene had called her and told her that Vivian Steele requested a meeting.
“Meeting? For what?”
“She wants an update.”
“And this can't be given over the phone?”
“I told her that you said things were going well, but she wants to hear it from you in person.”
Aida rolled her eyes. She'd planned to lie out in the sun later that day, enjoying the heat and humidity before she met Griffin. “Fine. Whatever she wants. What time?”
“At two-thirty at Starbucks.”
“Again?” Aida sighed. “OK.”
Aida looked down at her watch. She was thirty minutes late. She looked around and spotted Vivian Steele sitting at a table near the back. She rolled her eyes. Vivian annoyed the shit out of her. She had no backbone and therefore allowed her husband to walk all over her. What's worse, she was completely dependant on him. Griffin may have deserved what was coming to him, but as far as Aida was concerned, Vivian Steele deserved to be disrespected. Aida could never understand women like Vivian. Women like her mother and sister.
“Hello, Vivian,” Aida said, approaching her at the table. “Sorry for being late.”
Vivian looked up at her and for a split second, Aida thought she saw a flash of anger in her eyes. But then Vivian smiled. “That's OK. I know I kind of sprung this on you.”
Aida sat down. “Yeah. I did have some things I was taking care of today.”
Vivian frowned. “I'm sorry,” she said again. “I promise not to take up too much of your time.”
“So, my associate says you're looking for an update?”
Vivian nodded. “I was just wondering how things were going.”
“Things are good.”
“Did you approach him at the gym?”
“I did.”
“And was he . . . receptive to you?”
“He was.”
Vivian frowned.
Aida said, “Didn't you expect him to be?”
“Y . . . yes.”
“So why the disappointment?”
Vivian sighed. “I don't know. I guess there was a part of me that just held out hope that my husband wouldn't respond, even though I knew he would.”
“Your husband's a womanizer, Vivian.”
“I know.”
“He's not going to change.”
Vivian's frown deepened. “I just had to try something.”
“OK. So you try this, you get him to go to counseling and nothing changes. Then what?”
Vivian shrugged. “I don't know,” she said, her voice defeated. “I haven't really thought about that.”
“Don't you think you should?”
Vivian wrapped her fingers around her cup of coffee as her shoulders dropped.
Aida shook her head.
So pathetic
, she thought. “Anyway, is everything set for next Saturday?”
“Yes. I've told him I'm going to visit my sister for the weekend. She lives in Virginia with her husband and three kids. He says he has work so he won't be able to come. He never got along with my sister so his excuse doesn't surprise me.”
“OK. As you've requested, you'll walk in and find us on your bed. I'll make sure we're both naked.”
“But not doing anything.”
“Right. Not doing anything.”
“OK.”
“We'll meet here the next day to settle our agreement.”
“OK.”
Aida pushed her chair back. She was annoyed. The “update” could have been done over the phone. “Well . . . until next Saturday.”
She stood up and was about to leave when Vivian spoke again.
“Aida, I have one question before you go.”
Aida looked down at her. “Yes?”
“You . . . you haven't slept with him, have you?”
Aida thought about being in the back seat of Griffin's Escalade, and then being with him later that same day in a hotel room in the city, where they'd fucked just as intensely as they had in the gym's parking lot. Griffin was well endowed and knew how to use his tool. Over the phone he'd promised to reenact the scenes from his dreams. Aida felt herself growing wet as she shook her head and said, “No.”
“Are you sure? I mean, my husband's an attractive man. I wouldn't be surprised if–”
“We haven't,” Aida said curtly.
Vivian gave a half-hearted smile. “OK. Thank you.”
Aida walked away before Vivian could ask anymore pathetic questions.
I should have said yes
, she thought.
Yes, we fucked, and we're going to fuck again
.
Next Saturday the job would be done.
Aida thought about Griffin and couldn't help but wonder if she would be.

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