Tears on a Sunday Afternoon (6 page)

“Donald, get Emerald to school right now.” The voice made me sit up on the bed, the events of the night becoming a distant memory.

“What?!” I exclaimed as the recognition of the voice came to me. “I am taking Emerald to school but we’re not going back to the house.”

Maybe a dial tone from a house phone would’ve made me realize that he wasn’t on the phone anymore. With cell phones, it was different, a click and dead silence. I kept the phone to my ear, waiting to explain myself, but there was no one but me in the room. I looked at the time on the phone. It was 7:30 a.m. I grabbed my jacket and ran to the bathroom. I hung it on the bathroom doorknob as I quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth. I ran my hand through my hair and looked at myself in disgust as I opened the bathroom door. I picked up the bill that was slipped under the door and realized that they had already charged my card so there was no reason to stop at the front desk. I took the stairs two at a time and I was quickly in the parking lot. I clicked the car alarm and pulled the door open. I didn’t get it more than halfway opened before it was slammed shut, the force almost taking my hand with the door. As I turned around, I barely saw the hand that ripped into my stomach, making me grasp for air. The second punch was even more vicious than the first. It dug into my ribs as I fell to the ground.

“Enough.” The voice was the same one I had heard on the phone. I looked up to see the shiny, black, pointed shoe and gray head of my father-in-law, Mr. Malcolm. On either side of him were two big men; one Spanish and the other black. The black man, who looked like a rejected NFL line-backer, was rubbing his knuckles, eager to continue inflicting pain.

“Don’t talk,” Malcolm said as if I had the strength or desire to do that.

“You know I hate repeating myself. Look at me, Donald. I’m an old man. I hate hurting people.”

The two men snickered when he made that comment. He looked at them and they quickly clamped their mouths shut.

“I will call to talk to my grandson at home at six o’clock this evening. I would like for him to tell me how great school was and, besides being a little late because his father had an emergency, that everything was okay.” Malcolm reached down and lifted me up to the car. “It’s all right. You don’t need to thank me for helping you up.”

I watched them drive off in a tinted Lincoln sports car. I opened the trunk of the car and lifted the covering for the spare tire. The gun that the PI had given me lay between the tire and the wheel lug. I slammed the trunk down and pounded on it. Every dog has its day and I was sure that mine was coming. Today my name was John, but one day soon it would start with a P.

“W
hen did you stop seeing faces?” Donna asked, lying naked on the bed next to me. Her gray suit was folded neatly on the chair at the foot of the bed. We were at the Hilton on 42nd Street.

“A long time ago,” I replied, understanding exactly what she meant. I couldn’t recall ever talking to a girl with the intention of anything more than sex. Well, my wife was an exception. When I looked at her, I saw green. I had never been in love and the closest female friend I had was Julie.

“You are sad.” Donna rocked her body on the bed.

“And you are better than me?” I asked, wondering what made her any different.

“You can’t place me and you in the same class. At home is a husband whom I love dearly and it is reciprocated. I’m not perfect and I don’t say that I am.” She spoke in a monotone like Mrs. Silver, a boring history teacher I had in high school. She was merely stating facts and nothing but the facts. “If I wanted dick, I would be next to Brian right now, not you. You know the reason why we’re here. This is business. The fact that we fuck is all good, but I’m not confused. Every man I have given this pussy to got it for a specific reason. They might get confused because it is so good but I never do.”

The silky voice that made my loins tremble when I had first met her was gone. Unlike my experiences hundreds of times before, this was not about my looks. Even though her body was a million times better than my wife their interest in me was the same. “Your boss?”

“That’s quite obvious. Without the white man getting a piece of my chocolate, we wouldn’t be here right now. And do you know my salary? What secretary makes over seventy grand a year with perks? My husband and I get to go on vacation every year for free and I’m not talking about the Bahamas. Look at this pussy.” Donna turned over and spread her legs. She was clean-shaven as usual. She took her fingers and parted the lips of her pussy, running her index fingers down the middle. Her eyes fluttered for a second as she laid her head on the pillow.

I had always maintained that I would not eat pussy and married pussy was definitely a no-no. Besides being the usual sperm bank reservoir for their husband, married women are always dangerous. Their lack of protection in dealing with their mate leaves you in a game of Russian roulette. I didn’t know what Donna’s husband was into and these days the propensity for the brothers to go in the wrong direction was suicidal. There might have been a reason why Donna had so much free time on her hands. She and her husband might’ve both been getting off, but maybe not with each other. I ran my hands up and down her legs all the way to her toes. She continued playing with her pussy, this time squeezing her pussy with one hand to expose her clit. She licked the finger on her other hand and started to rub her clit. We had finished having sex about an hour ago and my body was ready for another go-around. I reached down to lick her freshly pedicured toes.

“I see this is as far as you would go,” Donna said, smiling.

My tongue traced down the sole of her feet.

“You are a freak.”

“Yeah, I go where no other man has gone before.” The tip of my tongue traced between her toes; then one by one, I took them in my mouth. Her body moved restlessly on the bed. A weekly pedicure appointment schedule and clean hygiene had left her feet looking and smelling deliciously clean. I had been with women that I would not even kiss but I would fuck them all night. Don’t ask me why. Someone once said that on “any given Sunday,” you would fuck almost anything. There are always Sundays in the week.

“You are insatiable,” Donna whispered as her hands left her clit to take hold of her breasts.

“The last time you left much too early.” I traced my tongue up the inside of her right leg. As my head lifted above her belly button, she held my head with her pussy-wet hands.

She gazed deeply into my eyes. “Fuck me.”

I slid my condom-covered dick into her wet pussy and as she raked my back I pushed into her as hard as I could.

“Yes, fuck me hard. I want to feel you in my dreams.” She wrapped her legs around my waist, clenching her teeth down on my right earlobe.

I pushed her back down on the bed and lifted her legs over my shoulders for maximum penetration, lifting her sweet butt as I drove into her. I had experienced good pussy before, but Donna’s was excellent. I could understand a man falling in love over her pussy and I felt sorry for him. Her white boss had fallen for some sweet black pussy. Most men who have been with a few women would tell you that vagina wetness ranges from dry to a fucking river. Donna was in the perfect middle. And while she wasn’t tight, her clasp was indeed God’s gift to man.

I stopped and turned her over. I was stuck in awe. In front of me was a perfectly rounded ass. I hesitated for a second before I slowly eased myself into her. With every inch inserted, there was an ‘ah’ until my thighs collided with perfection, drawing me even deeper inside. It didn’t take long until I realized that I was a mere mortal. I collapsed quickly behind the great wonder of humanity. I was a spent and broken man.

“Donald, can you hand me the plastic bag next to my hand bag? Donna said as if nothing had just happened. She was the consummate business-woman.

With great labor, I rose off the bed, feeling the effects of not being an eighteen-year-old man. Two orgasms for a man in his thirties were all she wrote. There are men who could tell you that they could go all night, but most will explain the pointlessness of it all. To not know a beautiful woman is to love her, but knowledge always comes with understanding. I understood Donna; therefore love was nonexistent.

I brought the bag back and threw it beside her.

Donna almost jumped off the bed. “Be careful.”

“Why? What’s in there?” I picked up on the concern in her voice.

She lifted the bag that had settled next to the white pillow. She reached into it and pulled out a long, slim, surgical knife. The eight-inch blade was sharpened on either side. She held the knife in her hand and twirled it around.

“What’s that for?”

“Kathleen wants you to use it in the robbery,” Donna said, continuing to play with the blade of the knife.

“Hold the fuck up. What do you mean, she wants me to use it in the robbery?”

“Relax, Donald. Let me explain.” Donna sounded like a schoolteacher repeating something to a hard-headed kid.

“What do you mean by that?” I was getting pissed.

“That white bitch is not in this robbery for money. Her intention is to make certain that her husband never leaves her. And the only way she knows how to do that is to cripple the motherfucker. Now here is the fucking knife.” Donna handed me the knife.

“Cripple!” I looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not crippling anyone. I don’t like white people, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to go around killing them. All I want is some money to take care of my business.”

“Donald, this is no ordinary two-dollar holdup. We’re talking about twenty million dollars. Now I would cut your balls off for that kind of money so take it easy and listen.”

I grabbed a chair and dragged it to the foot of the bed. Donna was the one in charge and the quicker I understood that the better I would be able to play the game. At that point, I was the triggerman and she was the mob captain. But fuck if I was going to stay the triggerman. “All right, enlighten me.”

“Kathleen doesn’t want you to stab her husband. You think she trusts a black man to do that to her husband. You might kill the bastard and that will take this thing to another level.”

“Now I’m totally lost. I guess four years of engineering is not helping me here,” I said to Donna.

“Kathleen was one year away from graduating from med school when she met Peter, her husband. At that time, she was also dating a surgeon. The surgeon had just graduated from med school. The surgeon was making money but not enough to buy Kathleen a brand-new Porsche. After a continent-hopping romance, Kathleen and Peter got married. From there, they tried the pregnancy thing, but Peter was shooting blanks and Kathleen didn’t want any of the other procedures.”

I put my hand over my mouth and pretended to yawn. While Kathleen’s story was interesting, I didn’t have time for it.

“I get the hint,” Donna said to me. “The point is that Kathleen will stab her husband. You’re merely carrying the knife to her. Donald, you don’t have to do much for the twenty million dollars we’re splitting. Kathleen and I planned this thing down to the smallest detail. All you have to do is to use the key that I’ll give you later to unlock the handcuffs. You then have to take a blowtorch and burn around his wrists to make it look like the handcuffs were chipped off his hands. Timing is the most important factor. You will only have fifteen seconds to knock Peter out, wait for Kathleen to stab Peter, then punch her in her face. You have to hit her hard; make sure she loses a tooth or two.”

“Wait, Donna. Kathleen wants me to hit her in her face so hard that she might even lose teeth?” I shook my head. “Women never want you to touch their faces.”

“Donald, you don’t understand the stakes here. Kathleen gave up her whole life for this man. A little reconstructive surgery means nothing to her. There can’t be even a hint that she was involved with this. She needs to be immediately eliminated as a suspect.” Donna rummaged through the bag and came out with a pair of women’s gloves. She handed them to me. “You’ll give her these gloves; then she’ll give them back to you after she stabs her husband.”

“I guess I have to wear a good mask,” I said, happy to know that I didn’t have to kill anyone.

“No mask involved. You put on a mask and it draws a lot of attention. I’ll give you another suitcase.” Donna knelt down on the bed and lifted my head with her hands. She moved my face from side to side. “You’ll be wearing a nice blonde wig. You’ll just be another handsome white man going home from work.”

“You think that I could pass for a blond white man?”

Donna looked at me over and over. “Yep, they won’t even say a light-skinned or Hispanic man. Nope, they will label you a handsome blond.”

I got up and went to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I had never thought of passing myself off as a white man before but Donna was right. Once I lost the curly hair that hinted at my Negro blood, I would be all White.

I walked back into the room. “You are right.”

“Donald, you haven’t told anyone about this, have you?” Donna’s eyes were unwavering as they latched onto mine.

“No,” I lied, giving her back the same stare. I had learned to lie at an early age. Once an older sister of a girl I was seeing taught me how to do it. As we lay in her bed next to her sister, my girlfriend’s bed, she asked me what I would say if my girlfriend asked me if I would sleep with her sister. I turned to her and looked her directly in the eyes and I said, “I would say no.” She laughed at me. She told me that her sister would know instantly that I was lying. I asked her how she would be able to tell. I didn’t blink nor did I move any other part of my body. She told me the human body had thousands of veins in it and she pointed at my dick. Some you cannot control but others you can. That day she taught me how to control every nerve in my body. Our affair didn’t last too long after that because while we could lie like politicians, we couldn’t control our lust. One day her sister caught us fucking in her bed.

“Good. Because the number one reason people get caught is because they can’t keep their fucking mouths shut. Sink or swim, you, me and Kathleen have everything riding on this. I’ve always wanted to open a boutique and maybe this will give me the chance to do it.” Donna got off the bed.

“A boutique? You don’t need ten million dollars to open a boutique.”

“When you are doing it on Fashion Avenue in Manhattan you do. I don’t want any little small ass boutique on Flatbush Avenue. People coming and ask you to take something off of the $9.95 retail price. In my boutique, a lace will cost a buck fifty.”

“Why don’t you just advertise that you’ve just robbed your boss of twenty million dollars because everyone will know?”

“Donald, do I look stupid to you? I don’t think you would be in this room right now if you believed that,” Donna said, putting sweatpants over her spectacular ass. “I will be managing the store, my brother. I’ll only be a manager. The store will be owned by a real estate developer with millions of dollars.”

“I’m sure you already have someone in mind.”

Donna smiled. “I paid cash for the room so, as always, you can stay the night or go home. I’m sure you’ll be spending the night.” Donna pulled the hotel room door open. I slumped down onto the bed, the knife wrapped in the plastic bag in one hand and the gloves in the other.