Sinful (19 page)

Gushing with admiration, Chandelle politely dismissed the nurse and then poured her friend a glass of ice water from a plastic pitcher. “Here you go, Grace; your lips are a little ashy and we cannot let mommy set a bad example for Nicole.”

“Thank you so much, I'm usually too worn-out to move once this child's latched on.” Grace held her daughter close to her chest. Chandelle watched as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Here, take her for a minute, I've got to pay a water bill.”

“A what?” Chandelle asked, making sure to place one hand beneath the baby's head.

“I've got to pee, girl. Hold her and come over by the door in case I fall in,” Grace joked. “I may need a hand getting out.”

Chandelle marveled at the newborn like she'd never done before, imagining one for herself. “Grace, she's so tiny,” Chandelle said from the other side of a cracked bathroom door.

“They all get bigger and poop on everything,” she hollered back. “But that's part of the package. Andre's almost fifteen, a good son, but he has his moments too. Wait 'til you and Marvin get past your differences, you'll find out firsthand then and, no, I'm not babysitting, so don't call me every Friday trying to unload y'all's children with Auntie Gee. I'll be trying to get my groove on like you. Just keep on praying for good things to come with Marvin and He'll handle the rest.”

“Grace, you are too much. Where do you keep the bottles?” she asked, changing the subject. “Nicole is trying to nuzzle up on me and I'm bone dry.” Chandelle paced the floor to give the child something to think about other than milk until Grace returned.

“She'll live,” Grace replied the moment she exited the restroom. “Bring her to me. I'm responsible for fulfilling her needs like God's vigilantly seeing to yours.” Again, Chandelle balked at the topic. “Let me get comfortable a minute so I can multitask. Don't tell me you haven't been taking your worries to the Lord?” Chandelle couldn't lie so she refused to say anything. “Uh…uh…uh, you haven't gone to God but you expect Him to drop what He's doing to step in on your behalf?”

“He knows my struggles and my pain,” answered Chandelle in her own defense.

Grace unfastened the top button of her hospital gown before she shifted her baby to her left side. “Listen to yourself. He knows my struggles and…you ought to be shamed. Yes, He knows your pain. You can say the same for me, but notice how I didn't go to Wallace and have him get Marvin's bogus charges thrown out until you came and asked me to, did I? Chandelle, prop this pillow under Nicole for me,” she said, interrupting herself. “Thanks. Now, don't be the kind of Christian who talks the talk but sits on her behind when it's your turn to prove your faith by doing some walking.” Chandelle lowered her head and stared at a small cloth diaper folded across her lap as Grace hit her with another dose of faith-based reality. “It's no wonder you keep taking backward steps, trying to be tough enough to carry it on your own narrow shoulders. Well, has it worked?”

“Not even,” she answered, peering up to face Grace's spiritual spanking.

“Chandelle, you can bet your life on what I'm about to tell you. God can speak to Marvin in ways you can't. Humble yourself and ask Him to talk to your husband's heart. He'll listen and so will Marvin.” Grace unfastened the flap on her gown to breast-feed. Chandelle turned away from her boss's exposed engorged breast.

“Whoa, heyyy, I'm in the way,” she exclaimed awkwardly grabbing toward the floor for her purse with both eyes tightly closed.

“Don't be silly,” Grace griped. “If it were Wallace in the bed with me trying to tap the jug, then you'd be in the way.” Grace laughed heartily while Chandelle's lips parted. She revealed a reluctant smile hiding behind them.

“I know you're right, though, about my dumb idea to carry my own load. I had my mind made up but my heart wouldn't listen to me anyway.”

“That makes sense because hearts don't have ears, never did,” Grace teased.

“Isn't it something how a woman's heart does what it wants, when it wants? I'm way past tired of doing without and being without my man.”

“You don't want to know how tired I've been having to see you sad and sorry without your man. Does Marvin know you still want him back, that your feelings haven't changed for him?”

“I don't know. After my accusations, it's a toss-up if he'll take me seriously again,” Chandelle reasoned.

“Seems to me a woman in love ought to at least be sure what she's about to throw away.”

“Who said anything about throwing it away? I'm going to get prayed up and then let the Lord sort it out. I've been getting in my own way long enough. From now on, I'm going to do what a child is supposed to do, sit down and be still.”

“That's the spirit, Chandelle. Let Him lead you. He's had a lot more practice.” Grace tugged at the sheet to cover herself when someone knocked at the door. Wallace eased in, bearing a bouquet of balloons, blankets, and an armful of barbecue hot wings from Boscoe's.

“Hello, Wallace,” Chandelle greeted him with a cordial embrace. “Nicole is a stunner. You did good, brother.”

“Thanks, Chandelle, I didn't think you'd be here. I just saw Marvin at the wing place,” Wallace said, unaware that she'd seen him too.

“Yeah, I'll catch up with him later. Got some things to talk over with my daddy,” Chandelle said, openly sharing her intentions. She thanked Wallace for the circus act he performed with the rogue cops and Marvin's case, winked at Grace, and then excused herself from their family reunion. Chandelle's stride was noticeably loftier when she strutted past the frumpy nurse supervisor.

“That's a first,” the nurse stated sarcastically to Chandelle. “I hadn't seen anyone come out of there grinning.”

“Better watch what you say. That lady is most likely on God's A-list, that's what all the extra equipment is for.”

O
ver the next two days, Marvin worked at putting his last conversation with Chandelle to bed. She had her mind made up that he was involved intimately with Kim, despite his numerous attempts at squashing it. Although Marvin could understand how her jealous notions sprang up, he couldn't figure out how she sprung up, time after time it seemed, when he was with Kim. Chandelle wasn't the type to snoop, so it was inconceivable to think she'd have someone on his tail. Suspicions had him jumpy, looking over his shoulder and acting guilty as charged by Chandelle.

Deciding that his time and energies were better spent on growing his clientele, Marvin called Dooney and Super Dave to get them interested in fully utilizing their hard-earned money. After putting it like that, both men agreed to set meetings.

“What's wrong with you, Kinfolk?” asked Dooney, when Marvin met him in front of the barber shop at closing time. “I thought you kicked that wife-beatin' rap.”

“I did, but it wasn't even like that,” Marvin answered, keeping an eye on each car that rolled by. “That charge was trumped up and you know it. I'm innocent,” he protested.

“Yeah, okay, but calm down. You're acting
not innocent
and you should probably let me in on who you're hiding from. Got me tripping too.” Dooney fired up a Newport cigarette, glared at Marvin suspiciously, and then tossed a glance up the street for good measure. “Is it that other woman?” he asked eventually. “Is that who you're ducking?”

“What other woman?”

“Kimberly Hightower,” Dooney said knowingly. “I heard you might be sniffing behind her these days. I wouldn't blame you if you did, because she is a dime. If you got pictures with her clothes off, let me hold them for a minute.”

“I can see Chandelle has gotten to you,” Marvin suspected. “Have I ever been one to roam?”

“Well, lemme think.” Dooney smiled at him. “All right, I'm just messing with you. You have been on the straight and narrow, I'll give you that.”

“Thank you, Dooney. Finally, some common sense coming from out your mouth,” he sighed, staring into the distance. Marvin's shaky behavior caused Dooney to turn around and watch his back.

“I done told you, Marvin, I've got two strikes already. The way you're carrying on, the po-po could pick me up on acting like I'm up to something.”

“My bad, I'm working too much and sleeping too little,” Marvin explained. “My bad.”

“That's what's up,” Dooney said, chuckling under his breath. “You're riding on fumes, the po' man's pick me up, No Doze and coffee.” Dooney slapped Marvin on the shoulder like he felt sorry for him. “Just say no, cuz. Pork is the other white meat and caffeine is the other white drug. Leave both of them alone.” He peeked around Marvin and moved him aside so he could get a clear view of two people approaching on the sidewalk. “See, now I don't trust my own people. I can't live down here being scared of young brothas like these.” They observed two young black males casually passing a marijuana joint back and forth. “Hold on, Marvin. Hey!” he called out to the shorter one puffing away.

“Yeah, you, li'l dude. You look mighty familiar. Don't I know you? Ain't you Stamina Jenkins's oldest boy? That's what I thought. It's too late for you to be out here toking blunts like can't nobody smell that sticky-icky. Git on home.” When the young man leered at Dooney as if he was crazy, the barber turned up the volume to match his stern warning. “You heard me. Git! Ain't nobody ever told you it's disrespectful to be eyeballing your elders? Shoot, I might be your daddy.” Dooney chased him off, yelling after him. “And tell yo' mama to call Dooney! She still got the number!”

“Dooney, you for real?” Marvin asked, watching the boys flip obscene gestures once out of harm's way. “You and Stamina hooked up that long ago?”

“Naw, she was already pregnant with two little dudes in diapers when I got with her. Good thing, too; she can drop one or two a year, no lie.”

“Whuuut?” Marvin said, laughing at Dooney's sophomoric antics.

“She had a nice run back in the eighties and early nineties.” Dooney contended. “Six kids in five years. Every time I saw her, somebody had planted another ram in the bush.”

“It's hard to argue with the math, but I wanted to pitch some other numbers to you, this proposition I got,” Marvin said, using terms to pique Dooney's curiosity.

“A moneymaking proposition?” he asked between puffs.

“Is there any other kind?”

“Yep, but I don't get down like that with dudes, though. So, what is it and what's in it for me?”

“Cool, that's what I like to hear from a sharp businessman.” Marvin laid out a quick and easy explanation why Dooney should become a home owner and leave his small apartment. The tax benefits were substantial, because Dooney was a sole proprietor and he owned the building he operated in. The thought of having a nice spot to entertain female guests appealed to him as well. It had been years since he actually had a bath, because his loft came equipped with only a shower, and it wasn't long before the pros of home ownership overtook his apprehensions of taking on a thirty-year commitment. After Marvin broke down the financial benefits of making accelerated payments to the mortgage principle to satisfy the loan years ahead of schedule, Dooney was all in.

Marvin promised him that he wouldn't regret taking the steps to solidify a stronger portfolio. Dooney didn't fully comprehend that one, but it sure did have a nice sound to it. They slapped palms and parted ways. Dooney locked up the shop and contemplated having a room dedicated to his true love, music.

Marvin hopped in his vehicle and pushed on to the next stop, Duper's Bar & Grill. When he arrived, the place was packed. Super Dave Headley stood behind the bar pouring drinks at his usual pace, as slow as he wanted to. Patrons waved money at him, pleading for faster service.

Dave spotted Marvin at the end of the bar, gawking with a smile on his face. The bartender hollered at everyone. “Shut up! My best friend's son is here and he's next.”

Marvin wanted to sprint out of the front door before the thirsty mob turned their hostility on him. Dave was unflappable. Twenty plus years in the service industry taught him one thing: His customers were always willing to wait. He sold alcohol and attitude. People expected a lot of both from him. Dave wasn't one to disappoint. “Marvin, what can I get you?” he asked above the manic crowd.

Realizing then that he couldn't get a word in edgewise until he quenched the crowd's thirst, Marvin hopped over the bar and strapped on an apron. He winked at Dave and then rang the bar bell to get everyone's attention. “I'm serving beer only! If you want beer, I got it!” As the last three words flew from his mouth, a third of the customers pushed toward his end of the bar. “One Michelob?” Marvin shouted across the wooden bar top. “You've been in line all this time and all you want is one?” After the man thought about it, he changed his order. “That's what I thought, three Michelobs coming up. Don't push, we've got plenty. Two beers at a time, I don't have change!” Marvin shouted, racing past Dave to snatch a second rack of frosted mugs.

“Just like old times, Marvin,” Dave shouted, his chest stuck out like the proud godfather that he was. “Shoot, I forgot how much I missed your summers home from college.”

Marvin filled in for the next hour. Rubbing shoulders with Dave felt just as good to him. It was as close as he could get to being around his deceased father. The older man had always been in Marvin's life, as a father figure, a voice of reason, and a great friend. Marvin was reminded of that the night he helped restore order in the busy tavern. Dave wouldn't have asked for his help, too prideful mostly, but he was glad Marvin stepped in on his own. Friends shouldn't have to ask, his dad taught him when he was a kid, and he'd never forgotten it. Not that Marvin was asking anything major of Dave, all he needed was a few minutes to ask a few questions. He was surprised to learn that the shop owner currently dabbled in real estate, living a cash-poor life while investing heavily in his retirement. Dave enjoyed speaking with a college graduate about his money, without having to open another banking account or pay consultation fees with one of the many money-minding firms. Marvin struck a gold mine when Dave reported owning six rental properties, all of which he showed interest in liquidating right away. Acting as the listing and selling agents for those homes meant that Marvin stood a chance to earn six percent commissions on each deal. He calculated potential dividends based on $100,000 property values. Overwhelmed with good fortune, Marvin threw his arms around Dave and squeezed until the older man coughed.

“You can't help me sell my houses if you choke me to death,” Dave jested. “I need a vacation, ain't had one in fifteen years. Thanks for looking in on me, Marvin. Your daddy would be proud of you. I know I am.” Dave went on talking about Marvin's parents, funny anecdotes and stories that Marvin had heard a million times over the years, but that didn't stop him from being thoroughly entertained by each and every one.

While driving back to his apartment, Marvin received a call on his cell phone. He lowered the volume on his car stereo and answered. “Kim, it's almost ten o'clock, I thought you were the ‘early to bed early to rise' type?”

“I am when I haven't been stood up,” she said, as if he should have realized what she was getting at. “So you did forget?”

“Kim, I can hear it in your voice that I was supposed to have done something that I didn't.” Marvin cringed while bracing himself for the fallout.

“It's Thursday and you were supposed to come by and look at my dishwasher. You know how long it takes to get a serviceman out and how they make you stick around the house all day waiting on them. Never mind, it's too late to drag you out,” she said, hoping he'd sense the insincerity in her voice. She grinned when he did.

“Cool, you got me. I was on the way home after two spectacular meetings with my warm market like you suggested in the last sales meeting.”

“If you can't do business with people you know, why should other people do business with you? Good, you were paying attention. The question is, were you as attentive that time you stopped by here for the Hightower Cares charity brochures?”

“Yeah, I remember the way. See you in a minute.”

Marvin's mind was on cloud nine. He'd convinced Dooney to purchase a starter home. Dave owned six of them in his price range. All he had to do was find five more qualified buyers, preferably young couples starting out, singles wanting to make astute business moves, or clients who needed to downsize their expenses. It was all very peculiar the way his life was panning out—without Chandelle in it. He wore that new reality on his face like a tailored suit when Kim answered the door, in her fluffy housecoat.

“Hey, you found me all right,” she said, welcoming him inside. “And you smell like a brewery.”

“I helped a good friend of my pop's serve beers at his bar tonight. Sorry.”

“No, I'm not complaining. It was just an observation,” she replied, as the upbeat voice on the telephone seemingly pulled a disappearing act. “The kitchen is this way, Marvin, but if you'd rather skip it, I can make other arrangements.”

“I'm straight. Something just crossed my mind, but I'll deal with that later. Where's the tool box and I know you have one because you're a new millennium sistah.”

Kim smiled brightly. “I'll get it from the garage.”

“No, I'll get it,” Marvin said cunningly. “I'm still an old-school kind of brotha.”

“My favorite kind,” she answered, moving aside to let him exercise his old-school values.

 

Kim sipped hot tea as Marvin lay sprawled out on the floor, fiddling with her dishwasher. She listened to him recount his discussions with Dooney and Super Dave and the pitches he made to each of them. Offering Marvin a position with her company was the right thing to do. His determination and persuasiveness were already paying off, for him and her.

In practically no time at all, Marvin's handiwork was completed. Kim was slightly disappointed that the show was over so soon. She couldn't help but delight as he writhed on his back to manipulate the inside of her appliance. It was easy to imagine Marvin's waist duplicating those motions in her bedroom, although she fought those naughty thoughts as best she could.

“It's running smooth as a top now,” he told her, after returning the tool box to her garage. “Your timer was off by a few degrees. That's why it wouldn't get hot enough to dry the dishes.”
Speaking of hot,
he thought, looking at the way Kim's robe hugged the rest of her. When his eyes floated up to meet hers, Kim's mouth opened in an ultrasensual manner. She wanted to kiss him, he was sure of that as much as he'd been sure of anything in his whole life. Marvin took a deep breath, attempting to calculate a romantic night with her just as he'd done with potential business deals, but this was different, very different.
There would be no turning back if you cross into the unknown, Marvin,
he thought to himself, with Kim gazing into his eyes.
Then, there is always the possibility that I would really dig the other side.