Nothing But Trouble (27 page)

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Authors: Bettye Griffin

BOOK: Nothing But Trouble
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Chapter 36
“
W
ell, isn't this a nice surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Gil faced his ex-wife. Even a deaf man could sense her sarcasm, if not by hearing it in her voice, then by her sardonic expression and the hostile way she crossed her arms over her chest. Not that he'd expected her to be cordial.
“Irene, we need to talk,” he said. He instantly recognized a glint of hope in her eyes, but she tried to be nonchalant.
She waved her hand across her body, inviting him inside in a grand gesture. Gil glanced around at the town house condominium where he had once lived with Irene and Vanessa. It looked exactly the same as it had when he lived there. Of course, he hadn't been gone long enough for Irene to have time to make changes.
As he sat on the familiar rust-colored velvet sofa, he realized that Irene probably had no interest in changing anything. She wanted things to be the way they used to be, him living here with her as husband and wife. It wouldn't happen, and he had come here tonight because her attempts at getting him back had gotten out of hand.
Fortunately, she sat in the matching chair opposite him. He didn't think he could stand it if she sat close to him. He'd probably have to get up and change seats. “So what's on your mind?” she asked, a smug look on her face, like she was about to receive good news.
“Irene, I know you're behind the problems Dana's been having.”
“What problems?” Her face contorted into a scowl. “What are you talking about, Gil?”
Damn, she was good.
If he didn't know in his gut that she was guilty, he might have had second thoughts.
“You know exactly what I'm talking about. Her slashed tires. The checks you stole from her mailbox. That's a federal offense, you know. And when you're caught, federal crime or not, Dana is going to press charges against you.”
“I'm sure you'd love that, but you're forgetting something, Gil. I haven't done any of the things you accused me of. That makes catching me for doing something impossible.”
“Well, just remember this while you're denying everything: It'll be very easy for me to get custody of Vanessa once you're formally charged with harassing Dana.”
That got a reaction out of her. The color faded from her face, and she couldn't prevent a gasp from escaping from between her lips.
“I want you out of here,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I know what this is all about. This is about intimidation and control.”
“No, Irene,” he said calmly. “This is all about your trying to get me back. It's over between us, but we'll always have contact because we have a daughter together. The way I see it, one of two things can happen now. We can be civil and get along for the sake of our daughter, or we can threaten and harass and argue with each other. I vote for the former, but it's up to you.
“But whatever you choose, remember this,” he said, rising. “I want you to stay the hell away from Dana.”
Chapter 37
M
icheline brushed her hair into place. Sean didn't have a mirror in his bedroom—hell, he didn't even have a dresser, just a mattress and box spring resting on the floor, and a plastic Parsons table on one side to hold an alarm clock. At least the shabby decor fit the neighborhood. If anyone broke into his apartment they wouldn't get much, just a TV set, a boom box with CD player, and a nice collection of CDs. She certainly wouldn't miss coming to this low-rent district.
She should have known that when Sean finally got around to renting a place of his own, it would be old and unpleasant. But they usually had their trysts here. Micheline wanted to avoid any potentially embarrassing encounters in case Errol decided to drop by her apartment uninvited. She also preferred staying in, afraid someone she knew would spot her with Sean, and it would get back to Errol. Sean usually ordered in. She found the arrangement satisfactory, even if the surroundings were dismal.
The best thing she could say for this apartment complex was that the tenants were quiet. The two-story pale blue brick buildings couldn't be more plain. No ground-floor patios or second-floor balconies, no individual entrances, just dimly lit hallways with dirty gray carpet and dark green apartment doors. Only losers lived in a place like this, people who drove fifteen-year-old vehicles, or laughable new cars like those little three-cylinder deals, the ones that folded up like paper fans in collisions.
She put her brush in her purse with a little sigh. The time had come to tell Sean she wouldn't be back. A simple suggestion from Errol had changed everything.
Micheline found Sean in the living room, sprawled out on the black imitation-leather sofa. An almost-empty pizza box sat on the coffee table—he had no dinette set, which made perfect sense, since the tiny efficiency apartment had no dining area. “You about ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I'll walk you out.” He sat up and reached for the old gym shoes he used for quick trips to the laundry room or to the trash dump, their backs permanently flattened from being constantly walked on.
“If you could wait just a minute, there's something I have to tell you.”
He looked up with a nervous expression. “Oh, shit. You're not gonna say you're pregnant, are you?”
“Of course not. What makes you think that?”
“Maybe you haven't noticed, but you've put on a few pounds.”
She lowered her chin to her chest and glared at him. “I have not!”
He shrugged. “Have it your way. What did you want to say?”
“Just that we've had a lot of fun together, but I'm afraid we've come to the end of the road.”
“You're dropping me, huh? What happened, did he propose?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Micheline managed to project genuine indignation. Truly believing one's own bullshit, she found, helped prevent facial expressions or coloring from giving one away. Her fair complexion used to lose color or brighten, until she learned to control her thinking.
“Yeah, whatever. I'm not stupid, Micheline. I know you're not going to settle for takeout pizza or Chinese. I'm sure you've been seeing somebody on the side, and from how aggressive you've become in bed lately, you probably aren't giving him any. I guess that's why you kept on seeing me.”
“Well, that's all very interesting, Sean, but you and I never had any exclusivity factor. I'm sure you're seeing someone else, too, somebody you're spending more money on than the cost of a barbecued chicken and sides from Sonny's.” Her eyes scanned his barren apartment. “I'm sure that lead IT technicians are reasonably well paid, and you certainly aren't spending anything on this place.”
“Okay, so I'm seeing somebody. But at least I'll admit it, which is more than I can say for you.” He looked at her, shaking his head in amusement. “Micheline, I saw through you the first time you insisted I come and pick you up, even though I told you your living in Dana's guest house made it awkward for me.”
“Oh, you mean because you
used
to date her?”
Sean lowered his eyes for an instant, then met her gaze defiantly. “All right, all right. We both know I wasn't honest about that. After I found out where you lived I regretted having made a date with Dana. That's right, Micheline, you were my preference. But I didn't want to hurt Dana, and I was sure it would have been very painful for her if I canceled our date.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Not because I think I'm all that, Micheline. Because Dana had just begun to go out again after losing her husband. I don't believe you can empathize with how difficult that is for a person who had a long-term relationship. I'll never forget the look on your face when she caught us together at the beach. After your initial shock, you looked like you got a kick out of the whole thing.”
A yawn inadvertently escaped from Micheline's mouth. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I don't mean to imply you're boring me. But all this is old stuff. We've had a good couple of months together. Why not end it on a high note instead of criticizing each other? It's not like we ever expected we'd be together the rest of our lives. We had fun for a few months, and now it's over.”
“You're right. I've enjoyed knowing you, Micheline.” He held out his arms, and she stepped into them. For a few moments they stood in a friendly embrace, then he pulled back and offered her his arm. “I knew I never stood a chance with you,” he said softly as they walked outside. “But I'm not as pitiful as you think I am.”
“I don't think you're pitiful, Sean.” Perhaps he wasn't the most ambitious man she'd ever met, but she wouldn't bother with anyone she truly considered pitiful, no matter how convenient it might be.
“I hope you don't,” he said. “I never told you this, but I took this apartment so I could live cheaply and save some money for a few months. I've been banking as much of my checks as I could since I left my wife. I got my divorce through one of those legal clinics so I wouldn't have to spend money on an attorney. The minute the papers were signed, I put thirty thousand down on one of those new town houses they're putting up near Southside Boulevard.”
Micheline perked up, like she always did, at the sound of money. “That's a nice down payment.”
“I wanted to make a big one. This way my mortgage payments will be affordable. I got a preconstruction price and signed a seven-month lease here. My unit should be ready to move into by the time it's up. Then I'll invest in some furniture.”
“That's wonderful news, Sean. I'm happy for you.” Micheline unlocked the door to her Bug and got behind the wheel. She smiled at him with genuine fondness, but no sentiment. Sean represented just one of the many people who would pass in and out over the course of her life. She never had problems saying good-bye. “I'll probably see you around town. You be good, huh?”
“You, too. Take care.”
She started the engine and backed out of the space, stopping to wave at him before she drove out of his life forever. She was truly glad to hear Sean had plans for his future. She'd seen those condos he talked about. One of the major builders had them under construction all over town, and they weren't bad. But if she was lucky, better things awaited her.
Errol's casual suggestion that they spend a few days down in Key West and stop off in West Palm to visit her parents had spurred her to take action and drop Sean. She'd gotten tired of him anyway, and she suspected that some other woman was getting the invitations to dinners, concerts, and shows that she used to get. It annoyed her that he'd seen through her, had known she wanted him just for sex and good times. He hadn't even seemed particularly surprised when she broke it off, much less hurt.
Maybe Errol really did plan to propose. Wouldn't that be wonderful? She, Micheline Mehu, married to a dentist, getting mail addressed to Dr. and Mrs. Trent. She would have much preferred a medical doctor in an especially lucrative field like plastic surgery or cardiology, or even a high-powered lawyer, but nevertheless her parents would be proud, her brothers impressed, and she could probably even get Cécile to stop talking about that damn house. She and Michael had suffered a setback when their original buyer's financing fell through at the last minute, but after six or seven weeks they'd found another buyer for that awful little place. They'd move into their new place just before Thanksgiving, more than two months after their original plan. The way Cécile went on and on, you'd think they were moving into Buckingham Palace.
 
 
Michline struggled with her zipper. At first she thought maybe the dry cleaner had managed to shrink her clothes, but these slacks were washable. She wasn't imagining things—she really was gaining weight. Even Sean had noticed it.
She didn't understand how that could happen. Her eating habits hadn't changed. Maybe her metabolism had slowed. She did feel more sleepy these days. Both Saturday and Sunday she'd had to lie down during the day, something she never did. She found it harder to get out of bed in the morning, and sometimes after lunch at work she had to force the heavy-lidded feeling of sleepiness away.
Micheline could just see Cécile now, gloating over her weight gain and saying something inane like, “That's what happens when you get older.” That was just plain ridiculous.
I'm not older. I'm twenty-seven.
And she had no intention of getting fat like Cécile. Micheline always told herself that even after her one future pregnancy, she would get her figure back even if it meant being near starvation to do it.
The thought of eventually having a baby filled her with anticipation. Micheline always wanted to be a young mother, and at the rate she was going she had a chance to become a parent by age thirty.
In her spare time she often wondered what Errol had in store for her when they took their vacation next week. Maybe all that interest she'd shown in listening to silly tales about women who wore thick coats of lipstick to dental appointments and young folks with meth mouth—rotten teeth due to abuse of crystal meth—had finally paid off.
Micheline knew there was more to landing a man than merely trying to tantalize him sexually. A woman had to show interest in her man's work, his hobbies, whatever interested him. That was especially important if she didn't plan on sleeping with him until she had him hooked.
Errol still regularly tried to get into her pants, without success. Micheline worked very hard to keep his interest piqued. She usually gave him more liberties with her body as time went on so frustration wouldn't lead him to seek satisfaction elsewhere. But he wouldn't get the grand prize until he had at least an engagement ring on her finger, a good-sized diamond she could keep just in case things didn't work out.
She'd had the best of both worlds: old-fashioned necking and good-girl fun with Errol, and great sweaty sex with Sean. That roll in the hay with that guy Vic back in July had been like getting a bonus.
Micheline smiled. How appropriate a word to describe Vic in bed. She had no idea a man his age—he had to be in his early fifties—could be so exciting. She wondered if he'd taken a Viagra when he left Bukkets that night. Sex with him had been like finishing the whole sundae, complete with the whipped cream and the cherry on top. With Sean she only got the ice cream and syrup. But it was enough to keep her satisfied.
Micheline tried to adjust the waistband of her slacks to a more comfortable position. She ultimately decided they would pinch no matter how she wore them. She would start a rigid diet tomorrow.
She had too good a thing going to let some extra weight spoil it for her.

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