Sinful (2 page)

Yeah, I'm the one who told Dooney you were putting hands on his twin. Uh-huh, the same one who's responsible for him posting you up at the car wash and had you crying like a li'l punk,
Chandelle thought, as she rolled down the window so he could see her face clearly, displaying her unmistakable contempt for him and men like him.
Yeah, the stitches and the lumpy hospital bed, that was all on me.

After mean-mugging Chandelle like he wanted to return the favor, Kevlin nodded his head respectfully instead, pecked Dior on the lips, and then ushered her inside.

“That's what I thought,” Chandelle mouthed triumphantly, before making a fast U-turn to get out of the area as quickly as possible. Although Dior was willing to brave the climate of the low-rent apartment district, she wasn't in the mood to reminisce on the life she led before leaving it all where it belonged, in the past.

A
ppliance World, a second-rate retail operation, thrived in the midst of mammoth-sized chain stores dwarfing it on both sides. When the owner, Larry Mercer, learned that two appliance giants wanted his location near the busy freeway, he held out for more money. Unfortunately, his plan backfired. Instead of making another lofty offer to purchase his property, each built stores on either side and squeezed him in the middle.

Weeks before Mr. Mercer was forced to pull the plug on his family business, Chandelle's husband, Marvin, walked through the front door to price a blender. The salesmen on duty had neither salesmanship skills nor an appreciation for customers. After overhearing Marvin explain how that was a leading reason most people were reluctant to do business with African Americans (who expected to succeed simply because their doors were opened), Mr. Mercer took a good look the attractive medium brown shopper and quickly offered him an assistant manager's position on the spot. Marvin's first order of business was scheduling training classes for all eight of the slacker salespeople.

Three years later, Mr. Mercer was happily making money hand over fist because of Marvin's diligence and training techniques. The fact that he still held the same position, at the same salary grade, both made Chandelle very unhappy. She wanted him to be more of a corporate mogul instead of an aspiring store manager of Appliance World. She also kept after him to trade in his khaki pants and navy short sleeve pullover uniform for a sleek designer suit. Marvin's business degree hadn't produced much in the way of options, but Chandelle didn't give up hope. Her husband would be important some day, she'd see to that. Oddly enough, Marvin was the type to fight sudden change head on. Although he loved Chandelle, it was her constant bouts of impulsivity and ongoing propensity to own a lot more than she could afford that he couldn't stand.

At 7:05
P.M.
, Marvin's cell phone rang. With a semiannual sale running at top speed, he was glad to have a moment to himself. He lay down the remnants of a half-eaten baloney sandwich, his third of the day, in order to wrestle the tiny handheld from his belt holster. “Hello, this is Marvin,” he answered, wiping crumbs from his thin mustache as if the caller could see him in disarray. “Uh, yeah, Kim, I have a minute. Thanks for returning my page.”

The empty break room at the rear of the store watched him smile. Nearly twenty years had lapsed since he'd seen her, Kim Hightower, but he couldn't shake the indelible image of a beautiful 18-year-old prom queen he'd carried a serious torch for, along with over a thousand other mannish boys at John Quinn High. Now an accomplished realtor, Kim was back in his life to help him and Chandelle find their first dream house. The thought of his lovely wife catching a glimpse of him gushing over another woman pushed that eager grin from his lips.

“Good,” Kim replied. “I'm very excited to be working with an old schoolmate, but I'll have to be honest, Marvin, I can't seem to remember you. Anyhoo,” Kim continued, “we can catch up tomorrow. And just so you know, I have selected six very nice properties for you and the Mrs. to view. Based on your e-mails, there should be something she likes in the bunch. If not, we'll keep going until we stumble onto something that she does.”

“You found six
very nice
houses in our price range,” Marvin asked, somewhat surprised. “I thought Chandelle's list of ‘must-haves' would have sent you running in the other direction.”

“A lesser realtor might have, but that's why you were referred to me. Like you, I have a reputation for exceeding expectations. Finding a home with the perfect amenities is the key.” When Kim sensed Marvin was blushing with pride, she laid it on a little thicker. “Oh, you're not the only one who does their homework. Mr. Mercer is lucky to have you running the store from what I hear. Just make sure you have that pretty wife of yours at my office around nine in the morning so I can show you how I do my thing.”

“Confident, I like that,” he said, nodding his head assuredly. “We'll be there.” Marvin closed his flip phone, tossed the brown lunch bag into the trash can, and then exited the break room feeling ten feet tall. He was not only looking forward to being the first man in his family to purchase a home, he also wanted to give Chandelle what she'd wanted all of her life: a castle fit for a queen.

While easing through the long dimly lit corridor, separating the warehouse from the showroom floor, Marvin stopped. Something moved a heavy refrigerator wrapped inside an upright box. He circled around, expecting to offer extra muscle to an employee carrying it to the delivery dock. He knew it was a mistake when a full pair of breasts greeted him instead. “Ooh-ooh,” he hooted, embarrassed for himself as well as the woman whose dress Mr. Mercer had his hands rummaging beneath. “My bad, y'all,” Marvin apologized, although reluctant to turn away from the erotic scene. “Mr. Mercer, I had no idea you were back here with…”

“Well, now that you do know,” the store owner barked, “get up to the front and make sure everybody is selling something on the floor!”

Marvin stared at his boss, a raisin shade of brown and smaller than him in size. But the man was determined to prove his manhood before granting the full-figured female his usual half-off discount in exchange for her services rendered.

“Don't make me say it again, Marvin,” Mr. Mercer grunted quietly.

Looks like you're about to get into something that might get you cut by Mrs. Mercer,
Marvin thought. “Yes, sir, I see, and please believe me, I ain't saying nothing to nobody. It's like they say? Don't ask, don't tell.”

Mr. Mercer glared at Marvin viciously. “Just say it walking.”

Marvin did what his boss demanded, like he'd done too many times before to count. Although sneaking another peek at the woman's impressive half-off coupons, he went on about his business trying to forget the owner's best attempt to handle his.

Customers looking for deals, scurried throughout the showroom like ants at a picnic. Marvin loved a busy store because of the opportunity to make higher commissions. He noticed a familiar face among the crowd, one that always made him glad he married Chandelle. The face belonged to her cousin Dooney. He couldn't wait to visit with his favorite customer, who never bought a single thing. But first he had to make a slick managerial maneuver, he thought as he saw Lem, a young salesman in training, was headed out back to check inventory. Marvin placed his hand on the young man's shoulder to stop him. “What's up, Lem?”

“Just hustling to make another sale, just like you taught me,” he answered proudly. “I'm going to see if we have any more of those stainless steel side by sides, the big unit.”

It's a big unit back there, but not the one you're looking for.
“That's gonna have to wait. Mr. Mercer is doing inventory in the warehouse,” he lied. “And he doesn't want to be disturbed. It shouldn't take too long, though. He's pretty fast at this sort of thing.”

Lem, a lanky twenty-year-old kid, looked up at Marvin and then smirked. “Please don't tell me ol' man Mercer's in the hole again pushing up on another customer to get him some discount booty?”

“That's not what I said, but you can't interrupt him and you do need to respect the man's need for privacy.”

“Whatever, Marvin, that's a dirty old dude and you know it. Let me know when he's done. I
need
this sale.”

“Cool, I'll page you on the intercom to the warehouse when I see him come out. Stall the customer until then. Show the new business office Executive Cooler line. Nobody wants to pop for it but everybody likes the presentation. If you need me to jump in, I'll be around.”

Lem dashed off to locate the customers he'd left with their faces shoved inside a lift-top deep freezer. Marvin struck out in the other direction. He wasn't up for standing guard over Mercer's evening rendezvous. If another associate busted him like he had, that was just too bad.

“I'll take two of everything,” Dooney hollered, when he saw Marvin approaching. He was the same shade of cinnamon as his sister Dior, handsome, nearly six feet, slight of build but wiry. Always dressed in starched jeans, pressed button up shirts worn outside of them, and neatly polished hard-soled shoes, Dooney's cornrows seemed out of place until he opened his mouth. Then, rock-solid evidence of the hard streets that helped mold him came pouring out. “What you know, good Kinfolk?”

“Lying,” Marvin replied, while shaking his friend's hand.

“Hey, hold on, we'll get back to that,” Dooney said, putting off the conversation he planned on spinning with Marvin. He returned to the one he'd started with a curvy, thick-hipped employee with her nose in the air. “Back to you,” he continued, flirting vehemently. “You say your name is Reeka? For real? Is that like Eureka? 'Cause I'm on time for that whole sweating-digging-getting-dirty thing.”

“Funny, you don't look as foolish as you sound. Don't waste your dreams on me. Whatever you think this is, it ain't,” she spat, crossing her arms. “Marvin, get your cousin. Call his parole officer or something.”

“He's harmless, Reeka,” Marvin chuckled. “But I'll hip him to the news for you.”

The young woman swung her hips in his face, then sashayed away, to offer him a lengthy gaze at what she'd determined was out of his league. Dooney's eyes locked on to her behind like a guided missile. “Man, that's all to the good.
Reeka,
I've got to remember that.”

“Naw, you can forget that,” argued Marvin. “Reeka's got her college papers, feeling herself, and she's too uptight to give a brotha like you a swat at it.”

“All I'd need was one, I know that much,” he laughed. “Whewww-wee. She's fully grown like a bison, one of them buffalos on the western movie channel.” After amusing himself with the buffalo analogy, Dooney recalled what Marvin insinuated in his last comment. “Hey, man, what you mean…a brotha like me?” When his question was returned with a we-both-know-you've-been-locked-up sneer, he digressed. “Okay, I see what you're screamin”, but she don't know that. Not necessarily.”

“Dooney, what exactly are you rolling through on the busiest day of the year to do?”

“Who me? I'm browsing. I figure with the sale and your friends and family fifteen percent off the back end, it's got to be something up in here I can splurge on.”

“All right then, get at me if you come up with whatever that something might be.”

“Straight up, I'll do that. Right after I get back into this hunting expedition I was on when you crept up.” The associate he was smitten with sauntered near with a stack of DVDs to reshelf. “Wait, Reeka, you dropped this…It's your ghetto pass. They won't let you back into the projects without it.”

“Marvin, get him!” she shrieked.

“Dooney, let the girl work now. She's on the clock.”

“And I'm on time for that, Marvin. I'm just gonna bend her ear a minute and see what snaps back.”

Marvin saw that look in his eyes, the one insinuating he was in a hurry to see Reeka getting undressed. “Dooney? Dooney!”

“I
thought you were tired,” Chandelle cooed beneath Marvin's heaving chest. It was three in the morning. She was married, happily, and at the moment extremely satisfied. “Okay…okay. You got me that time. I'll admit it. You won,” her voice confessed softly in his ear. “Good game, baby.”

“Yeah, it was kinda intense,” Marvin replied, rolling off to rest, spooning behind her. “Let me know if you want to run it back. I'll just need a minute to…” he said, with his words fading into the darkness of their bedroom.

Still basking in the afterglow, Chandelle purred seductively at the mere thought of another lengthy session with her husband. “You know I can't say no to you…never could. Remember how I used to rush home from work, Marvin? Marvin? Marvin?” He answered her with a chorus of light snores and deep sighs. Chandelle chuckled and pulled his arm tighter around her waist. “Go 'head on and rest, baby. Lord knows you deserve it.”

 

Marvin continued his after-lovemaking anthem until the alarm clock interrupted him at eight in the morning. Reluctantly, he cracked his eyelids to peek at the red blinking numbers that flashed atop his nightstand. After he slapped at the digital clock, the insistent buzzing ceased. “It cannot be eight already.”

“Hmmm,” Chandelle sang, her voice tired and dry. “Come on, let's get up. My house is out there waiting on me to find it.”

“My?”
he questioned. “You said my.”

“What's mine is yours; you proved that again last night,” she said, sitting up to meet the morning, as a back-arching stretch and yawn greeted her.

“Why don't you get the shower going, I'll be in…in a minute,” Marvin suggested halfheartedly.

“I used to fall for that, baby, but I caught on a long time ago. Get up now. We've got to get started.”

At Chandelle's prodding, Marvin swung one leg over the side of the bed but held his position under the covers. “Yeah, you fell for that one a lot,” he laughed. “Every now and then it took a hard sell, but I used to pull it off. Remember how you'd come stumping out of the restroom in a cloud of steam like Diana Ross in
Mahogany? Marvin, you get your big head out of that bed
,” he mimicked.
“Had me waiting on you. Should've known you'd go back to sleep as soon as my back was turned.”

“Yep, I was so gullible then, but you couldn't blame me for being a newlywed and wanting to be with my husband every moment of the day. That hasn't changed, but I learned to recognize when I was being conned. Besides, we both can't stay shacked up in the bedroom all day.”

“It's a wonderful thought, though. We could get a flat screen TV put in right over the bed, replace the nightstands with miniature refrigerators, and have food delivered three times a day.”

“Marvin?” Chandelle cooed like she had a few hours before.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he answered, with both eyes still tightly closed.

“Stop stalling, stop trying to con me, and get your big head out of that bed.”

“Busted.”

 

Once up and out of their two-bedroom apartment, Chandelle pulled a set of keys from her jeans pocket and tossed them to Marvin. “Let's take my car, I need some gas.” She knew he would use his debit card to fill her tank. Not that he would mind, but Chandelle was already envisioning thirty-five dollars' worth of bath gels and body oils she'd rather spend her private slush funds on. Marvin had no idea that she'd opened a secret bank account with a high-interest credit card after they had been approved for a mortgage loan, but he was wise to the “let's take my car when the tank is low” gimmick when opening the passenger side door to escort her into the car.

Chandelle was giddy as all get out when they pulled into the service station. She was still humming while strutting inside for coffee.

“I'm so hyped about this,” Chandelle chuckled, after returning to the car with two cups of butterscotch cappuccino and a bag of glazed donuts. “It's taken three years but we're finally doing it. It feels good.”

Marvin folded the gas receipt, then shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. “You know, it took some doing to save up for that down payment, but we stayed on it. Had to get the money right,” he said, looking both ways before veering out on to Skillman Avenue. “We should have been further along, but everything has its own schedule, I guess.”

He didn't have to state the obvious, the cause of one argument and heated disagreement after the next. Chandelle's frivolous spending habits along with the unnecessary items she purchased without regard to their budget were their main issues. Chandelle was accustomed to the finer things of life that shopping outside of her means provided. She refused to accept the grim reality that her salary hadn't begun to measure up to her expensive taste. Although Marvin's take-home pay barely rivaled hers, he rarely purchased anything over one hundred dollars unless he absolutely had to. Chandelle would dip into their savings to broaden her shopping expedition. When Marvin threatened to remove her from their “down payment” account, she promised to stay out of it and curtail her spending. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

On their way to meet with the realtor, Chandelle flipped through a stack of
Home & Garden
magazines she'd collected over the past four months. Bubbling with anticipation, her head was filled with decorating ideas, grand archways, and spiral staircases. Whether any of those came with homes within their price range had yet to be revealed. One hundred and eighty thousand dollars provided several options for a young couple seeking a four-bedroom property in north Dallas. The realtor had confirmed it beforehand. “Honey, you think we'll find something today?” asked Chandelle, when they parked in front of Hightower Realty.

Marvin shrugged his shoulders and stepped out of the car. “Maybe, I told Kim what you wanted and she said it was doable.”

“Doable?”
And who's Kim?

The realty office door opened as they walked up. A petite white brunette sauntered out, wearing a pinstriped skirt and blue ruffled blouse. She held a leather binder tucked beneath her arm. “Good morning,” she announced as if it were her name.

Chandelle returned the pleasantries immediately. “Are you Kim?”

“No, but she is,” answered the brunette, when a striking milk chocolate-colored woman appeared from behind the wheel of a shiny crème-colored Cadillac Escalade.

Initially, Chandelle was ecstatic that they'd be working with an African American and then she saw it: the effervescent grin plastered onto Marvin's lips. He was actually grinning, too hard for his wife's liking. As far as Chandelle knew, this Kim person was simply a voice on the other end of the telephone before that day, but Marvin's ridiculously overbearing smile had her thinking otherwise.
I thought you said you'd never met,
was keenly transmitted through the five-fingernail death grip Chandelle covertly administered. Marvin didn't understand what he'd done to deserve the sharp pain shooting up his right arm or if the beautiful realtor had witnessed him being assaulted. Marvin was caught between the awestruck boy he used to be and the man he'd become, fearful that Chandelle would clamp down even harder and draw blood.

“Hello, I'm Kim Hightower,” she said cordially, extending her right hand.

Marvin shook Chandelle's talons from his in order to accept it. He opened his mouth to speak, but Chandelle cut him off at the pass.

“Hi, Kim, I'm Chandelle Hutchins…Marvin's
wife,
” she said, fake smiling all the way. She'd appraised sister girl's ensemble from head to toe in one millisecond.
Hair, long but not overdone, nicely woven, no track lines, and professionally coifed: two points for that. Eggshell designer jacket and skirt cut above the knee, most likely by St. John: three points because it has obviously been tailored to fit just so. Slender, toned legs: A one-point deduction because I'm hating. Hosiery, oomph, DKNY business fishnets…the same ones I buy: gotta give up four points for that. Shoes, uh-uh-uh, the shoes just have to be the classic Stuart Weitzman leather pumps: five points for finding them in that shade of bone and walking like they don't hurt your feet. Score: thirteen points total. Uh-uh, she's put together too well to be showing my man anything but the spot I'm standing on.

“Glad to meet you, Chandelle,” Kim replied, her Pepsodent smile intact. “And, Marvin, finally we meet. It's good to put a name with a face. I talked to my younger brother, Felton, and you were right, you both failed ninth-grade algebra together.”

“Kim, it's great seeing you,” Marvin said, snapping back to reality. “Yeah, me and Felton had lots of fun flunking that class. Second time around was serious biz, though. Mom wasn't having it.”

“With such a pretty lady, it's apparent you made out all right. I can't say the same for that hardheaded brother of mine.”

Chandelle noticed that Kim looked him over but didn't spend too much energy or time in any one place, which was cool with Chandelle, feeling better about the situation by the moment.

Marvin massaged his arm casually when it occurred to him that a further explanation was warranted. “Sweetheart, Kim was three grades ahead of me at John Quinn High. She was voted…let's see, Most Beautiful, Class Fav', Student Council President,” he recited from memory.

“And a whole list of other honors, I'm sure,” Chandelle snapped. “Not that I'm complaining.”

“Girl, I know that's right,” Kim seconded. “Don't get me wrong, Marvin, but all that school days stuff happened a long time ago. If I have to hear how popular I used to be one more time, I might scream. Come on, y'all, let's go check out some properties.”

“Yes, come—come, Marvin,” Chandelle prodded gleefully while climbing into the realtor's dazzling SUV. The sixteen-year-old-crush her husband savored for far too long had suddenly drawn up and blown away. “Let's go with Kim, to see some
properties.” And if I ever catch you looking at another woman like you want to see her naked, you'll be wearing three shoes, yours plus one of my size nines hanging out of your behind.
“Hurry up, baby, time's a-wasting,” she insisted dutifully.

From where Marvin sat, in the backseat of that whalelike vehicle, it appeared he'd dodged a bullet. Chandelle was in her element, discussing expensive concepts and digging every minute of it. Marvin knew that Kim Hightower was a whiz with numbers and her business savvy rated top-notch too but she had already begun to exceed his expectations in the interpersonal department. In short order, Kim had cast a spell over Chandelle. She had somehow created a nonthreatening and accommodating atmosphere where an attractive woman felt at ease immediately. Like an accomplished salesperson, Kim allowed Chandelle to direct their conversation, while she listened attentively. Marvin used a similar technique when displaying appliances on the showroom floor. He always said, ‘Let a customer talk long enough, they'll eventually say something you can use to earn a bigger commission.'

Chandelle didn't realize it, but she'd raised several red flags for Kim before they pulled into the driveway of the first home. Even though Kim predicted that it was likely to be a very long day, she proceeded to show the homes, preselected based on the Hutchins's financing and Chandelle's list of must-haves.

“Come on in,” Kim beckoned, when Chandelle only jutted her head inside of the front door. “It's impossible to see the good stuff from out on the porch.”

“Chandelle, what's wrong with you?” Marvin whispered in her ear. “Are you that nervous?”

“No, this house is that small,” she whispered back to him.

“Is there a problem?” Kim asked. She knew precisely what the problem was when Chandelle went “oh” instead of “ooh” when she first laid eyes on it, the two-story red brick with an oversized backyard. Most new home buyers experience delusions of grandeur. The palace they had in mind didn't exist for the money they had in the bank. Kim had seen it a thousand times. This was her 1,001 chance to coach yet another of them through the realization process of separating what moved them and what they could afford to move into.

“Honestly, I was expecting something…bigger,” Chandelle admitted, now standing in the front doorway. Marvin was at a loss. To him, it appeared to be four times bigger than their apartment.

“Okay, but that's the beauty of looking, it's free,” Kim chuckled. “It's very important to check things out, look around to see if there is anything you do like about it. Every house has different qualities, like men. Let's take a few minutes getting to know this one.”

“Yeah, I'm with that,” Marvin said, with his eyes roaming throughout the front room.

“I was never interested in getting to know a single thing about little men,” Chandelle huffed. “I'll be waiting outside.”

“It shouldn't take us too long, huh, Kim?” Marvin asked, loud enough for Chandelle to hear and become jealous. The realtor caught on fast. She played it up at the husband's behest.