The Secrets of Paradise Bay (10 page)

“Am I supposed to feel grateful for that when he chose to show that love by putting his penis inside you?” Ivana snapped.

Helene colored. “It was a mistake, all right? For both of us. Why don't we just leave it at that?”

Ivana got up in her face. “Why don't you go straight to hell!”

Helene backed away. “I'm not going to fight with you, Ivana, though I'm sure that would make you feel better about yourself. I can give you some advice, though. If you don't start treating Trey like a man you want to hold onto, you'll lose him for good.”

Ivana closed the distance. “And what—he'll end up back in your bed?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to. Maybe I'll throw myself at your husband like a slut, too, and see if you still want to sleep with him every night afterward.”

Helene looked almost to the point of tears. “Do what you have to do. Just remember what I said.”

She grabbed her purse and went out the door.

Ivana had a good cry and then made herself presentable before leaving. Trey was waiting in the hall by the bathroom. She suspected he had talked to his former lover and was there to either comfort or lambaste her. She wasn't sure either mattered at this point.

“Ivana—” Trey said.

“Take me home now, please!” she demanded. “Or I'll get Clyde to do it so you can stay here with your precious charity ball and your slut.”

Trey eyed her sadly, placing his arm around Ivana's shoulders. “We'll go home together.”

Willie sat at a table in the bar with his homie, Luther Raleigh. The two had hung out for a few years and had each other's backs. It was a bond Willie once had with Clyde Lancaster, 'til the stupid bastard turned on him in favor of a brother who never really gave a damn about him.

“This dude musta sucker-punched you to take out that eye,” Luther said over his mug of beer.

Willie gazed at the tall, lanky man with a short, curly Afro. “Yeah, that's exactly what happened.” He saw no reason to admit that Clyde had simply kicked his ass, even if Willie was positive the man was more lucky than skilled.

“So what you plan to do about it now that he's out?”

Willie drank beer, allowing it to go down slowly. “Still trying to figure that out. He's definitely gonna pay the price for what he did to me.” And the friendship Clyde kissed goodbye.

“Why don't you just wait outside that huge house he's staying in and blow the dude's head off when he comes out?”

“Don't think I haven't thought about that,” muttered Willie. “But I'm not crazy. I ain't going down for murder—not even for Clyde Lancaster.”

Luther wiped his mouth. “So who says you got to make it easy for the police to come knocking at your door? Or don't you want him dead?”

“Yeah, I want him dead all right,” Willie said bluntly. He pretended to point at Clyde and unload his three-fifty-seven Magnum, using Luther as a substitute. He flinched, as if really being shot. Willie grinned. “Be cool, man. Just practicing.”

Luther's forehead furrowed. “Well, practice in a different direction.”

Willie chuckled, then got real again. “I don't want Clyde dead just yet. Not 'til he's suffered some, so he knows what it feels like to lose somethin' important to him.”

“You mean like his car? Or you want an eye . . . maybe both eyes?”

“I was thinkin' more like his old lady—if he had one. Or maybe his rich-ass brother, who feels he's better than us.”

Luther got excited. “Yeah, offing his girl or brother would be payback.”

“Big-time.” Willie nodded, pondering the notion. “I'd save Clyde for last, then make him beg for his life, before ending it.”

“Sounds good. When do you plan to make this happen?”

“When the time is right and he least expects it.”

“You want me to take out his brother?” Luther asked.

Willie contemplated that. It would be a good way to get revenge while having someone else take the rap. But it would still leave him feeling incomplete. Unsatisfied. He needed a hands-on experience for justice to be served.

“Thanks, but I don't need you for this one. I'll handle it.”

Luther flashed a look of disappointment. “If that's the way you want it.”

“Yeah, it is.” Willie finished off his beer. “Let's get outta here.”

The two men walked from the bar, smoked a joint in Willie's car, and cruised the neighborhood.

Willie thought about spending the night with Roselyn. Using his considerable skills in the bedroom, he could make her willing to do anything to get off. He'd give her a call later and invite her over. Maybe she could even bring that stuck-up roommate along for a threesome. Or for Luther to have some fun with.

“Look over there,” Luther got his attention.

Willie gazed across the street at a vendor selling hot dogs. Only one person was buying, an elderly man wearing a cheap suit. “So what about him?”

“You think he's got any money?”

Willie considered this. “Maybe. Or could be the dude's as broke as we are.”

“What do you say we find out?” Luther took another drag of the joint.

Willie needed only a moment to agree. He wasn't much into taking reckless chances. But the man seemed harmless enough. And Willie expected to take two-thirds of whatever they got.

“Let's do it.”

They waited 'til the man paid for his hot dog and walked away from the vendor. Willie followed slowly. He couldn't let the man see his license plate and report to the cops. So he parked, deciding they would do this on foot and double around for the car later.

Willie took the three-fifty-seven out of his glove compartment, just in case, tucking it inside his pants. “Sure you wanna do this?” he asked Luther.

Luther hesitated, then grinned. “Yeah, might as well.”

“All right then. Let's keep it short and simple.”

They got out of the car and followed the man for a bit, before moving upon him swiftly.

“We want your money, man,” Willie spat, his eye narrowed.

“What?” The elderly man looked dazed.

“You heard him,” Luther followed. “Give it up—your wallet.”

“I don't have much.” He held onto the half-eaten hot dog haphazardly. “Why don't you go after someone else?”

“Because we chose you, asshole!” Willie glared. He removed the gun and stuck it in the man's stomach. “Just hand over the wallet and you live. Give us any trouble and you die. Which is it gonna be?”

The man seemed to nearly lose his balance, fear written all over his face. He took the wallet from his back pocket and handed it to Willie.

A wicked grin parted Willie's lips. “Smart move, old man. You got anything else in those pockets?”

The man swallowed nervously. “Nothing of value.”

“I'll be the judge of that.” Willie eyed Luther. “Check him.”

Luther obeyed, removing a dirty handkerchief and a lottery ticket. “What's this?”

“Looks to me like the man's hoping to get a lucky payout,” said Willie. “Only now he's giving us the chance to get rich. Ain't that right?”

The man remained mute.

Willie pushed the barrel of gun against his a rib cage, causing the man to wince. “I didn't hear you.”

“Yes!” he sputtered.

Willie smiled. “That's more like it.” He watched Luther put the lottery ticket in his pocket, as if his to collect. Willie planned to take possession of it later. He regarded the old man. “Walk away, and don't look back.”

The man glowered, but wisely said nothing as he started walking.

Willie kept an eye on him for a few moments; then nudged Luther and the two ran in the other direction.

Luther laughed when they slowed down. “I thought that old fart's eyes were gonna pop out, he was so scared.”

Willie chuckled, tucking the gun in his pants. “Good thing for him he didn't do anything stupid.”

“Guess he liked living more than being in a coffin.”

Willie was glad that had been the case. He doubted seriously he would have shot the man had it come down to that. Killing someone over a few bills was not in the cards. Wasn't worth doing hard time for. But killing someone out of hatred just might be.

Inside his car, Willie saw that the robbery had netted him $157 and a credit card, worth perhaps thousands more. All in a day's work, he thought gleefully. Now it was time to enjoy the night. Roselyn would provide the entertainment, and he would give her his undivided attention. Before turning it back to his nemesis, Clyde Lancaster.

Clyde sat in a chair opposite Stella Rockwell in Trey's office as Trey ran sales figures off like they were nothing or everything, interspersed with talking about inventory, incentives, disgruntled customers, and expansion. While trying hard to be interested, Clyde knew he'd rather be elsewhere, doing something that made him want to get up in the morning or night.

I don't want to let Trey down, but I don't want to continue to pretend that I'm made out to be a car dealership semi-executive
.

“We have to keep our costs down, while maximizing profits,” Trey was saying from behind his desk—or more lecturing in Clyde's mind. “Car sales have softened lately, but it doesn't mean we have to soften with them. I want us to look for any means to increase exposure and get the people in.”

Stella pushed up her glasses. “I have some ideas I'd like to run by you.”

Trey sat up. “I'm listening.”

Ten minutes later, Clyde found all the attention on him. “What?”

“I'd like to know what you think about Stella's proposals.”

“And don't hold back,” she said. “I can take constructive criticism.”

Clyde felt put on the spot. He couldn't really say for sure what he agreed on and what seemed unworkable. And that was what was so damned frustrating. He was out of his league here and knew it.

“This isn't working,” he said flatly.

“What's that?” Trey said, peering at him.

“Me working for you.”

Trey exchanged glances with Stella. “Can you excuse us for a minute?” he asked her.

“No problem.” She looked at Clyde and stood. “I'll be in my office.”

Trey saw her out, closing the door. “So what's up, Clyde?”

Might as well tell it like I see it
. “What am I doing here?”

Trey raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Clyde ran a hand across his mouth. “Who are we kidding—I don't belong here.”

“Sure you do,” Trey insisted, gazing at him.

“I'm sure I don't.” Clyde's eyes steeled. “This is your dream, not mine. I'm just not cut out for the competitive, high-pressure world of car sales.”

Trey sighed. “It doesn't happen overnight, Clyde. You've been here, what, a month? It's taken me more than ten years to learn the ropes, and I'm still learning.”

“Maybe you're smarter than I am.” Clyde wasn't sure he believed that—at least where it concerned common sense—but it seemed to fit where it involved the car sales business.

“Don't sell yourself short,” Trey said. “You're my brother, Clyde, and I need you here.”

Clyde looked at him with misgiving. “Why? So you can show all the folks here how you're doing the right thing by taking up your ex-con brother's lost cause?”

Trey scowled. “Now, where did that come from?”

Maybe I was a bit over the top there
, thought Clyde. Or maybe right on the money.

“You don't need me, Trey, you never have. It's obvious that your businesses have prospered without any help from me. I'm happy for you and happy that Mama got to see all of this before she died—but I've got to do my own thing.”

“And just what the hell is your thing?” Trey blasted. “Or are you still trying to figure that out?”

Clyde paused. “Yeah, that's exactly what I'm trying to do.”

“So until you do, continue to work here, get your feet wet. You can walk out that front door anytime you like and I can't stop you. But don't do it 'til you have a viable alternative for making a living.”

Clyde wanted to reject Trey's logic that sounded more like a bossy warning. Why did Trey always have to be so sensible—when it came to the business world at least? Whereas Clyde had far too often acted on impulse, and too often paid dearly for it.

“Yeah, all right,” he gave in. “I'll stick around for a while.”

“Good.” Trey gave him a brotherly pat on the shoulder and smiled. “Now get out of here and let me make a few phone calls.”

“Yes, sir, boss.” Clyde gave him a mock salute and was out the door, while seriously wondering if this could ever work out. Or were they both deluding themselves in more ways than one?

 

 

Ivana spent the day getting pampered with a manicure, pedicure, and hair styling—deciding she was worth it, even if there was no one at home she wanted to look gorgeous for. Except maybe Clyde. She was sure he appreciated her appearance and probably fantasized about her as she did about him. But was that where he drew the line? What about her? And was it a line either dared cross?

She seriously doubted that Trey paid much attention these days—or cared—to how she looked. Especially if he still had his wandering eyes elsewhere.

Ever since her falling out with Trey a week ago at the charity ball, Ivana felt more and more distant from her husband, who seemed to enjoy having her and Helene DeCroch at his beck and call. Ivana wasn't sure she could compete with the beautiful wife of a hotel magnate, if Trey chose to be with her. Or that she should even try.

“Are you sleeping on me?” asked Ivana's hairdresser, Jacinta Bordeau. She was currently restyling Ivana's Senegalese twists to a corkscrew braid interlock.

“No, I'm wide awake,” Ivana said, breaking out of her reverie.

“Could've fooled me,” Jacinta said in a boisterous voice that matched her large girth. “I was asking if you and your man plan to do anything special for your anniversary this year?”

“Hadn't really thought about it,” she admitted, sure that Trey hadn't either.

“Is the sex that lousy?”

“Excuse me?” Ivana tried to turn her head but Jacinta kept a firm grip.

“There's usually only two reasons married folks don't talk about that romantic anniversary getaway. One is they're too broke to do it. The other is that it's just not happenin' in the bedroom. Since I know that you and yours are rolling in the dough, can't be that, so must be the lousy sex. Am I right?”

Ivana was too shocked to be embarrassed. She was used to this sort of conversation with Jacinta, but rarely did they get into specifics, and Ivana liked it better that way.

On the other hand, why pretend she and Trey were Paradise Bay's golden couple as was often portrayed? When Trey had tarnished it much like fine silver?

“How about no sex?” Ivana admitted. Or as little as possible from her end.

“You're kidding me?” Jacinta leaned her face so Ivana could look at her disbelief.

“I wish I were.”

“Is he seeing someone else?”

“Only he knows the answer to that.” Ivana could only speculate and go by his track record, both of which had her cause for alarm.

“Are you seeing someone else?” Jacinta tossed at her bluntly. “I have to ask.”

“No, I'm not sleeping with anyone.” Not yet.

“So what's the problem? He can't get it up?”

“Trey's not a candidate for Viagra, if that's what you're getting at.” Ivana felt she could read what was coming next. “And I'm not frigid.” Or was she? Maybe Trey had made her frigid.

Then Ivana thought of Clyde and his feeling sexually aroused when he looked at her. Or vice versa. She couldn't help but believe they would be all over each other while between the sheets.

I'm definitely not a frigid woman
.

“I give up,” voiced Jacinta in a huff. “Maybe you'd care to enlighten your nosy hairdresser?”

Ivana didn't want to spread her dirty laundry around town like a sexually transmitted disease. “It's complicated,” she would only say.

“I already gathered that much.”

I'll bet you have
. Ivana wondered what she could say to satisfy Jacinta's curiosity. Then it came to her.

Even then, Ivana hesitated. “I'm attracted to my brother-in-law.”

“Your husband's brother?” Jacinta asked, her eyes bulging.

Do I really want to admit to it?
“Yes, as a matter of fact. He's staying with us for a while.”

“Hmm . . . that is very interesting.” Jacinta grabbed a row of Ivana's hair. “I don't wanna ask how far things have gone there, but I will anyway.”

“I've haven't slept with him,” Ivana made clear. “But he is hot and very sexy.” And probably horny as hell.

“And your man's
brother
. Hope you know what you're doing, girl.”

“I'm not doing anything,” Ivana said.
Nothing that my man hasn't already done.
“Just talk, that's all. Don't pay me any mind.”

Unfortunately, Ivana realized it was too late for that. She had already let the cat out of the bag—but had no idea if it would or should go any further than that.