“Day job?” I asked.
“Don’t fuck with me, Henry.” She radiated irksomeness. Not my doing. I hadn’t been there long enough to piss her off.
“You’re the one who called. And here I go jumping again. You could at least be cordial.”
“You’re right,” she admitted. “These clothes have me irritated. I don’t like wearing this kind of shit.”
“Then why did you? I could think of some things I’d rather see you in.”
“I got something for that, but try putting your dick on hold for a second.”
“Okay. I’ve been considering whether to ask you something anyway.”
She ditched the shades. Her eyebrows rose in intrigue. In the light of the doughnut shop, I wondered if those brilliant eyes were the product of colored contacts. Didn’t really matter. The fire that burned in them wasn’t a fantasy. “I’m listening, Henry. Go for it.”
I took a great big swallow of pride before pushing forward. “Remember when you said you’re staying with your sister and her husband?”
“Duh. Of course.”
“I was kind of fucked-up that night. Shit on my mind. But I couldn’t help but notice . . .” I broke my gaze, embarrassed. “I don’t know what your brother-in-law does, and you don’t know all my qualifications, but I’m versatile . . . and hungry. I was wondering if you could maybe put in a word with him for me.”
Pumpkin gave me the strangest look. I couldn’t tell whether she wanted to burst out laughing or slap me. It faded, replaced by an unsettling pause. “I doubt it,” she said. “But I do want to help you. Remember?”
“Yes. I remember what you said.” I tried hiding my disappointment, preparing for whatever was to come.
She bumped my leg. I thought nothing of it until she kicked me. That warranted my looking down. I gazed upon an orange backpack placed beneath the table.
“What?” I said, looking back at Pumpkin.
“Take it with you to the bathroom. And try acting normal.”
“What is it?”
“Boy, just go to the bathroom. Please.” She seemed anxious.
“Holy shit!” I blurted from the toilet stall. The stacks of bills were easily over twenty thousand. I zipped the bag back, ideas swirling through my head as I tried to figure where it came from and how she got it.
When I returned, Pumpkin was standing. She no longer feigned interest in the coffee cup. “You like?” she said.
“Yes,” I gushed. “But—”
She cut me off. “I just hope that helps.”
“Where did you get this?”
“My brother-in-law. Owed me a favor.”
“Wait, wait. He’s not a drug dealer or something?”
“No. He just deals.” She found something cute in that.
I lowered the stuffed backpack, debating over whether I could take so much money. It would keep Kash at bay from the good hand with which I held the bag. It also could be rolled over into something serious . . . with the right bet or two.
“I can’t take this.” Better to rid myself of it before that familiar rush had reasserted itself.
Pumpkin refused to take it; just looked at me stupidly. “Why not? Because of your pride?”
“I can’t pay this back,” I mumbled. The man behind the counter was becoming curious. I watched his eyes as he fetched a bagel for a customer.
“I never asked you to. Just being a friend, Henry.” She folded her arms.
“Let’s go somewhere else, talk about this. I’m staying at a hotel across town.”
“I would love nothing better than some behind-closed-doors action with you,” she teased. “But I can’t right now. Just take it and I’ll call you later.”
I said nothing, neither accepting nor refusing her gift. Just felt her kiss before she dumped her untouched coffee and darted out the door into traffic.
And I was left literally holding the bag.
12
BIANCA
I
had been dealing with this branch of Fidelity Trust since my marriage. Tanner had been dealing with them way longer. When I walked into the lobby, everyone sprang to attention, smiles and mentions of “Mrs. Coleman” echoing through the halls of the century-old establishment. Not like the indifference shown me and my mom when she used to make deposits at the sterile little bank in Seattle. Whereas I was unseen and unheard before the Coleman name, now my whisper was like a roar. It amused me as much as it disturbed me.
The branch manager, Mr. Guzman, came out from behind his desk and motioned me over. He’d obviously been called and warned I was on my way. I altered my course and went straight to him. As he shook my hand, he welcomed me inside his office. Once I was seated, he closed the door. As he moved back to the other side of his desk, he went into whatever opening he’d prepared.
“Mrs. Coleman, good to see you again. I heard there was a misunderstanding?”
“Yes. If you call somebody walking in here, forging my name on a check for almost a hundred thousand dollars, and your letting them walk out that door, then there has definitely been a misunderstanding.”
Guzman smiled as if he were about to laugh. He saw a joke in there. I didn’t see anything funny. He quickly corrected his expression.
“Ma’am?”
“What are you doing about this? Have you called the police? Or do I need to call my husband to get some results?”
“Ma’am, please calm down. I honestly thought this was some kind of test.”
“I’ve had an extremely difficult day. Explain. Now.”
“You came in and withdrew the money yourself. I met with you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Now he looked nervous. “Yes. I did.” He blinked, a tiny bit of doubt dissolving his swagger. “Well . . . I knew it was you. Even with the hat and sunglasses. We had a lovely conversation just like always. I thought it was a little dangerous, your leaving here with all that cash, but you convinced me it was all right. I kind of wondered why you changed before coming back.”
Fear trickled into my throat. A picture was beginning to form. “I wasn’t here.”
“If . . . if you’d like, I can produce the check. Let you verify the signature.”
While he secured the check, I sat and simmered. When he returned, he presented a check from my business account. The signature was pretty close to mine. Damn Pumpkin. She knew me too well. Better than I knew myself in some instances. I’d been pushed beyond my overly generous limits this time. And she would learn a few new things.
“Is there a problem, Mrs. Coleman?”
“No,” I offered apologetically. He must’ve thought me mental. “Sorry to take up your time.”
I scoured the house looking for her. Lorenda was all in a panic over my mood, but I told her to get out of the way. It wasn’t till my bedroom that I heard signs of life.
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Coleman? Do you need me to call Mr. Coleman?”
I paused, listening to the sounds behind my door. Someone was in there.
“What? The television?” Lorenda remarked. “I’m sorry I left it on. I was cleaning in there.”
It wasn’t the TV I was listening to. It was the laughter in response to the television. “It’s okay, Lorenda. I have to take care of something.” She stood there, confused and trying to hear what I heard. “You can go now.”
I rushed into my room, not quite sure what I would see.
“What’s up, Bianca?” Pumpkin calmly asked as she lay across my bed. In a pair of designer jeans and a yellow T-shirt, she rested barefoot, sporting a fresh pedicure. “I don’t have a TV in my room.”
I grabbed her by the leg and pulled.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Come here!” I screamed as she tried to kick my hand off her.
There was a faint tapping on the door. “Mrs. Coleman?” Lorenda’s muffled voice called out in distress.
“I’m fine, Lorenda! Go away!”
Pumpkin laughed, causing me to hurl myself across the bed to slap her. She rolled away to the other side, where she sprang to her feet.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she screamed, holding her face in shock.
If looks could kill.
I’m sure I matched that look, though.
“Are you trying to ruin my life? Huh? Is that what you’re trying to do?”
“Must be crying over my withdrawal.”
“Hell, yes. I’m not crying, but I’m so angry that I could,” I barked. “You’re lucky I’m letting you stay here.”
“Lucky? Like you have a choice now,” she mouthed off. “I’m getting used to a
lot
of things around here.” Her eyes cast that twisted glance, their sick taunt understood.
I jumped across the bed, causing her to run to the other side. “You bitch!”
“Watch the mouth, Bianca. Or I might stop looking out for you,” she teased as she ducked my wild swings. Back on my feet, I overtook her as she scampered around the room. We banged into the furniture, sending a set of candles tumbling onto the carpet. I kicked a candleholder as we tangled, stinging my foot.
Pumpkin tried to break free again, but I’d twisted her arm. She winced in pain. Knowing Lorenda was probably camped outside the bedroom door, I pulled my sister into my walk-in closet.
“Let go of me!” I obliged as I barred any chance of escape.
“Why did you go into my purse? Huh? I’m letting you stay here and you steal from me? Me? What kind of sick bitch are you, Pumpkin?”
She folded her arms, a crazy calm in contrast to my hyped state. She pushed some of my clothes on the rack. Made me wonder how much time she’d been spending going through my things. “The kind who does everything you won’t do. The kind whom you
wish
you were.”
“Why are you so determined to ruin my life?”
“You don’t have a life!” she screamed. “I’m just trying to show you that.”
I raised my hand to slap her again.
“Do it. I dare you. Hell, I might even like it. You know I have a high tolerance for pain. Besides, you need me more than I need you.”
“What did you do with the money?”
“You don’t want to know. Just leave it alone.”
“How can I? You robbed me! If Tanner finds out . . .”
“Tanner! Tanner! Tanner! Always worrying the fuck about Tanner. That man’s got more money than he knows what to do with. I figure the little bit I took is the least he owes you.”
“How do you know what Tanner ‘owes’ me? And why are you always so down on my husband?”
“Because he’s always down on you, bitch. What you think?” she snapped, sucking her teeth. I shook my head, wanting to shake her some more. She just fixed her hair in defiance. “What? Are we done here? Because this closet is getting stuffy.”
“No, we’re not done. And I’m not letting you out of here until you come up with the money.”
“Sure you can stop me?” She got in my face. I usually couldn’t stand looking at her for an extended period of time. This time I did. Almost a mirror image, excluding those fiery eyes and hair, I grudgingly noted. No wonder Mr. Guzman at the bank was fooled. Pumpkin’s smile seemed to grow to epic proportions, then suddenly blurred. I blinked a few times, but it didn’t help. She was right: The closet was getting stuffy. It was hard to breathe. I took a step toward her, then stumbled slightly, another dizzy spell coming on.
Shit.
I hadn’t listened to the doctor. All the stress had taken its toll.
“You look like shit, Bianca,” Pumpkin teased as my head tipped back, giving me a glimpse of the closet lights before I crashed to the floor, unconscious.