Chapter 5
I pulled my BMW Z4 convertible into traffic on Hammond Drive. The perfume counter at Saks had been pretty crowded for a Thursday morning, but I'd gotten what I wanted, or at least what I needed. I hadn't expected to run into a one day sale. All the happy little, stay-at-home moms were out today spending their husband' s money like I would be doing one day soon. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. I was going to be a few minutes late for my lunch with Greg, but that was a good thing. He needed to wait for me for a change, especially since I had to wait so long for him to get up the nerve to actually take me to lunch. It hadn't come without persuasion.
“Come on, you know I can't go out with you in public. ”Greg had protested as he moved his body higher on the pillows I'd propped behind him.
I was ready for that lame excuse. I already knew how to work around that one. “You can explain me if you have to. I'm a consultant, remember? It would be a business lunch. ”That was somewhat true. I had a consulting business, back office practice administration stuff, but it wasn't doing well. I'd had very few clients. A nursing background wasn't enough of a credential these days. Everyone wanted an MBA, which I'd failed miserably at getting after I'd flunked out of the advance practice nurse program. Higher, higher education wasn' t for me.
Greg hemmed and hawed for a moment. I pulled back the sheet that covered our bodies and climbed on top of him. After leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead and then the lips, I applied the pressure. “Look, I really like you, baby, and like you said, I knew you were married before I got into this, but baby, I can't stay cooped up in this condo every day waiting for you. I'm young. I've got to get out.” I played with the hair on his chest.
After a moment of the pleasure, he weakened. “Okay. We can have lunch.”
I clapped my hands victoriously and squealed.
“But no touching and acting like lovers. The last thing I need is for my wife to find out about you. I'd be finished.”
Finished indeed
, I thought.
I pulled in front of Moreland's Fine Dining. I opened the small bottle of perfume I'd purchased and covered myself in a fresh spray of the scent. It wasn' t exactly something I would wear, but it was appealing enough, and obviously if Mrs. Preston wore it, Mr. Preston liked it. The parking attendant pulled the door open and offered me his hand. I accepted his assistance and reached in for my briefcase. I loved first class service. Nothing topped it.
I strolled into Moreland's like I had been here a thousand times. Although I had many occasions to dine in fine restaurants with the various men I'd dated in the past, the bourgeois interior of this particular establishment took my breath away. I'd read about it in
Upscale
magazine and saw clips on the Fine Dining Network channel, but I'd never expected it to be so posh. A tingling sensation traveled down my spine as I made purposeful strides through the restaurant atrium. I loved when men spent money on me. It was the perfect foreplay, and most of them knew it.
“Madame, may I assist you?” A man stepped into my path. I assumed he was the maître'd judging by his snooty tone and penguin attire.
I was stunned at his swiftness. I'd almost banged right into him. I wanted to let him know how annoyed I was at how he'd cut me off mid-stride, but instead I put on my brightest smile and used my well-rehearsed business voice. “Samaria Jacobs with Jacobs Better Health. I'm dining with Dr. Preston.”
The maitre'd took a few steps to a waist high podium at his left, looked over his glasses and down his nose at the reservation log, and then back at me. I was rewarded with a crisp smile. “Yes, Dr. Preston is waiting. Allow me to show you to the table.”
We walked a short distance, turned a corner, and I spotted Greg sitting at the end of a row of round tables near a window in the rear. He was doing something with his BlackBerry and was so distracted that he hadn't seen my approach. Which was a shame; I'd purposely worn a skirt that accentuated my long legs.
The maitre'd cleared his throat to get Greg's attention. “Dr. Preston, Ms. Jacobs.”
Greg stood. He took my elbow and guided me to the chair across from him. The maître'd nodded and walked away. I didn't get the kiss I was used to receiving every time he greeted me. I hadn't expected thatânot today. I took my seat and placed my briefcase in the space next to me. Greg put his tall frame back into the seat he'd risen from. I took in a breath, and my stomach did the same flip it did whenever I set eyes on him.
Greg was fine. His skin was the color of an espresso bean, but his eyes a lighter, hazel color that contrasted so much with his complexion that it almost looked eerie. His short, curly hair had a part cut in front which gave him a boyish quality that I found very sexy for a man his age. His DNA would make some beautiful babies. Of course my perfect genes would help.
I met Greg at a downtown sports bar near one of the hospitals. At first he was standoffish. I could tell Dr. Preston wasn't interested in a woman on the side, which made him even more appealing. Then one Wednesday afternoon he came into the bar visibly upset. After much prodding, he shared that he was grieving over a young patient that died in surgery. He was vulnerable and ripe for my advances. So I pushed and got him. I'd had him for six months, but being the woman on the side wasn' t good enough. I wasn't getting any younger. I wanted more. I wanted financial security.
“Waiting long?” I asked, cupping my hands together on the table.
“You know exactly how long I've been waiting because you're late.” Greg pushed away from the table and adjusted his tie.
“I'm worth it,” I replied, batting my eyelashes. I pulled my legs under the table and stroked his upper thigh with the tip of my shoe to remind him of why he was here in the first place.
Greg shifted in his seat, and I sensed I'd gotten my message across. I opened my briefcase and removed a small notebook computer.
“What's that for?”
“This is a business lunch, isn't it?” I raised an eyebrow. “I'm helping with the presentation, Doctor.”
He laughed deeply and seemed to relax instantly. “You're something else.”
“You know it.” I winked.
Greg and I chatted a bit. I ordered the most expensive steak on the menu and started a good bottle of wine. The good doctor couldn't drink on the job, but I managed to get him drunk with lust. I teased him more than he could bear, so after lunch, we checked into a room down the street at the J.W. Marriott Hotel. Sex hadn' t been in the plan for today, but I figured after paying over ninety dollars for lunch, if he was willing to spend another buck and a half for a hotel room, I'd let him. After all, the whole point of the outing was to remind him that I was no cheap trick he had on the side.
Not that he wasn't already doing things for me. He had begun giving me a small stipend a few months ago to help out with my bills. I'd let him know how much I was struggling with the new business and he, of course, was more than happy to keep my stress to a minimum. I presented a monthly invoice to his office for consulting services, and by the tenth of every month, I had a check that covered half the cost of my condo and my entire car payment. Plus there was jewelry and other little things he would buy me from time to time. But even with his help, I had a cash flow problem. My paycheck was gobbled up in student loan debt and credit card bills. The two totaled more than sixteen-hundred dollars a month. The messed up grad school attempts and extra money I borrowed from the Department of Education had me sunk. A person couldn' t escape student loan debt, not even in bankruptcy. I'd already explored that option. My ninety thousand dollar tab to Uncle Sam's higher education department wasn't going anywhere.
Greg stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered and fully dressed. “I had a great time.” He came closer to the bed. I let the sheet fall from my shoulders. He got that gleam in his eyes again and leaned forward to kiss me.
“You're something else you know.” He pulled away. “I've got to go. I have to be in surgery in an hour.”
“Too bad.” I lay back on the mattress and rolled onto my stomach, revealing the rest of my banging, naked body.
“Yes, too bad. But somebody has to work around here. ”Greg leaned down and kissed me one more time on the forehead. “I'll call you later.”
I grabbed his tie, tugged until he came closer to me and whispered, “You sure you don't have twenty more minutes?”
He growled low and deep. “I'm certain.” He removed my hand from his tie, smiled again, and pulled on his jacket.
“Don't forget to call me.” I worked my body deeper into the mattress.
“I won't,” he said. “Oh, and by the way, I like the new perfume. ”He disappeared through the door.
“I bet you do.” I turned over on my back and pulled the sheet around my body. I reached for my cell phone, pushed the buttons, and waited for an answer on the other end.
“Hello, Angelina. This is Rae Burns. I was wondering if we could have a cup of coffee.”
Â
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Like a clip out of a runway fashion show, I watched as Angelina pushed the door open and glided into the Caribou Coffee Shop where I was waiting for her. The spot was almost empty, so she saw me right away. She nodded a hello, went to the counter to order something, and then joined me. I jumped up from my seat and gave her a hearty hug like I'd learned from watching the church sisters the other night. “Thanks so much for meeting me.”
“No problem. I told you, I've love to help if I can.”
“Most people don't make time for strangers.”
“Actually, I have to let you in on a little secret,” Angelina replied, hanging her bag on the back of her chair. “Our women's group has a formal mentoring program for new Christians. It's called Mentor-a-Sister. Once a woman joins, she' s assigned a mentor to acclimate her to the church.”
I took a sip of my latte and considered what this might mean. “That's interesting,” I said, although I didn't quite know how interesting it actually would be.
“It's a good program. The person who's assigned to mentor is a spiritually mature woman who can answer questions about the Bible or pastor's message. We pray with each other, talk to each otherâshare anything that needs to be shared. It' s kind of like a fast friendship. It really helps because people usually feel all alone when they join a new church, especially one as large as Greater Christian.”
I didn't say anything, just moved my cup around on the table. I couldn' t believe my luck.
Angelina continued. “It's not meant to be intrusive. It's strictly on an as needed basis. You call, and your mentor is there for you. You don't want to be bothered, and I go away.”
I sat back. “By â
I go away
,' do you mean, you? Would
you
be my mentor?”
“If you'd like me to be. I'm only working with one other woman right now, and she's already made some new friends.”
Bingo.
I nodded noncommittally. I didn't want to seem too eager.
Angelina looked puzzled, and when she made the next statement I knew why. “Don't let me scare you off. I won't be a pest, and I can certainly assign you to someone else if you'd like.”
“I think it's a great idea. I could use someone to talk to about spiritual stuff from time to time. ” Shoot I didn't want to play it so cool that I lost her.
Angelina's face relaxed. The cashier delivered her coffee. She thanked her and took a hungry sip like she needed the jolt of caffeine. “So you said you hadn' t joined the church yet?”
“No.” I played with my cup. “I don't think the women like me. They were pretty chilly at Bible Study.”
“Well, you can't let other people run you off from a good church.”
I raised my cup, took a sip, and held it to my lips to buffer my statement. “There are so many snobs.”
“There's a reason you keep coming back.”
I put my cup down and looked her in the eye. “I try to surround myself with people who are where I want to be.”
Angelina nodded. “That's admirable.”
I shrugged. “It can be lonely too; always being the outsider. ”A beat of silence passed between us. I couldn't believe I'd said that. “Maybe you can unofficially mentor me. Convince me it's the right church.”
Angelina pursed her lips. She was amused, but nodded her head. “We can give it a try.”
“Okay.” I raised my cup and took a sip. “Now that we have that bit of business out of the way, let's talk about why I asked you here. ”I returned my cup to the table, crossed my legs, and locked my hands together atop my knees. It was time to find out if this diva knew her husband was creepin. In the coolest and calmest voice I could muster, I said, “Angelina, your husband is cheating.”