Twisted Vows of Seduction (9 page)

Jeff drew his neck back.
Here we go with this shit
, he thought.

Nadine motioned for Deandra to follow her. They walked into Nadine's room where she laid Canvas in the bed. She turned the television on for Deandra to watch and then walked back into the living room with Jeff, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

Jeff let out a deep sigh, already knowing what time it was. He could tell by the scowl on her face now that he had popped open a can of bitch-a-tude.

Nadine stood in front of him. She looked him square in the eyes. “I can't do this anymore.”

Jeff allowed the seriousness of her words to register. He knew exactly what she was referring to, but he queried her anyway. He
relaxed his shoulders, tightened his jaws, and casually asked, “You can't do what, Nadine?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits and her voluptuous cherry-painted lips parted ways. “I can't keep allowing you to…” Before she could complete her sentence, those hidden tears that played peek-a-boo with Jeff earlier, began to suddenly stroll down her lightly blushed cheeks. She blinked her eyes a few times and more tears slithered down her face.

Jeff stood to his feet. He pulled Nadine into his embrace, but she rejected him. On any other day it would have worked. Him holding her, trying to console her in her time of need would have been enough to calm her down and ease her worries. It would have been enough just to fuck her brains out and tell her whatever she needed to hear to settle her. But today his efforts hardly worked. She wouldn't even let him make it to first base.

Nadine shook her head slowly, all while staring at him as if he had some deadly contagious disease. Her face etched with an unfamiliar pain. “No,” she said softly. She took a long deep breath. “I won't keep letting you hurt me!” she reemphasized this time with more pain in her voice, in her eyes, and on her beautiful face.

Jeff's body was as stiff as a board, his heart undoubtedly numb to the agony she was experiencing. Why, he didn't know. Years ago he'd cared about Nadine's feelings more than the feelings of his own wife. He'd cared if she hated or loved him, cared if she was happy or not. Now, all Jeff could allow himself to be, was concerned. “Where is all this coming from?” he asked boldly. As she stood there silent, the louder her tears seemed to pour down her face. He continued on. “I don't know exactly what I've done to hurt you, but—”

“Stop!” She tilted her head sideways. “You really don't get it, do you?”

Jeff tucked in his bottom lip. He wished that he could empathize with her, but the truth was that he couldn't even remotely identify with her right now. It was like a terrible storm had come through and knocked out his converter box, causing him to lose all connection.

He looked over into the next room at his children. Canvas was still asleep and Deandra was sitting Indian style beside him on the bed. Jeff's recollection of pain was indeed right in that room. Deandra was a reminder of the pain, the resentment, and the betrayal he'd felt the day Denise told him that his daughter really wasn't his.
I can't keep letting you hurt me
! He found himself wanting to beg to differ. Nadine wasn't hurt. Because hurt didn't disguise itself well. It didn't look the way she looked now. No…she wasn't hurt, but he could see why she would want to play the victim. Women did it all the time. It was what his boys had warned him about and he be gotdamn, they were right on the money.

Jeff wasn't quite sure how to diagnose Nadine, but one thing for damn sure was that it wasn't hurt! He stood there and played back all the arguments, the demands, the ultimatums, in his mind. And just like that, it hit him all at once. Nadine wasn't hurt, he reasoned. She was simply missing that twisted-ass affair orchestrated by his dead wife.

“It's time we gave each other space. To clear our heads,” she continued. Her voice calm the entire time, but uneven. “I think it would also be appropriate for us to work out arrangements…for Canvas. Because this pop-up thing you tend to do is not going to work for me.”

“You mean it's not going to work now that you've let your aunt and your friends fill your head up.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means. You didn't have a problem with it before when you were benefiting from it too,” he reminded.

“I have a child to think about now. I'm not going to keep letting you walk up in here anytime you damn well feel like it. Those days are over!”

Jeff chuckled loosely. “All right. But as soon as that pussy gets lonely…you know who to call, baby.” He grinned sinisterly.

Nadine scrunched her face in disgust. “Listen to you. I don't even know who you are anymore speaking like that. It seems that ever since… Denise died…you've changed.” She continued in hesitation. “Are you…still mourning, Jeff? If you are, just say it and stop beating me up for it!”

Jeff remained silent. His entire body grew numb and he felt lightheaded. He stared at her in contempt. “I don't want to argue in front of the kids,” Jeff said, finally, trying to nip that conversation in the bud. He could feel an argument brewing, but he wasn't going to give in to it. Not today. Not for a long time.

Nadine held up one finger. “No…see that's what you would like to think this is going to be.” She managed a light chuckle even as fresh tears skidded past her mouth. “This
discussion
is simply about where we stand, our son, and what I expect out of you as his father.”

Jeff was taken aback and offended. “Wait, so are you trying to say that suddenly I'm not a good father to my son?” His voice unintentionally shot up an octave and he immediately went into defense mode.

“You said it, I didn't,” Nadine retorted mockingly taking a seat back on the ottoman.

“Quit cutting corners, Nadine, and get that shit off your mind. What you trying to say to me?”

Nadine looked away and then back at him. The natural glow in
her eyes was shielded by his towering muscular frame. “What I'm saying is that,” she stammered, “your son could use a little more of your time than what you've been giving him.”

“I see my son!” he snapped back.

“When it's convenient for you! Sure you do. I'll give you that,” Nadine retorted sarcastically.

Jeff hesitated for only a minute. Had to guide his words in the right direction. “You know what. I'm not going there with you because I know that I do a
damn
good job taking care of my son. I clothe him, I pay for his daycare, I scoop him up every weekend…”

Nadine's eyes widened in confusion. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” she asked. “Because you and I both know that you are making a difference between those kids.” She pointed toward her bedroom, never taking her eyes off of him. “I understand Deandra needs you because she doesn't have her mother anymore, but Canvas needs you too! I'm not trying to do this alone and you promised me that I wouldn't have to!”

Every piece of Jeff's skin felt so hot and tight it hurt. His facial expression didn't even come close to revealing to her what he was really thinking at that moment. His eyebrows converged, his eyes narrowed to slits and his nostrils puckered up. An acidic taste filled his once cotton-dry mouth as he searched through his thoughts, trying to process everything she'd just said. His lips tingled as he wet them to say what she definitely deserved to hear, especially after spilling out those foul-ass comments. But something inside of him kept his words at bay all while
her
words echoed in his mind. This was the type of shit that made men like him want to stop trying, stop doing, stop giving a fuck. Nothing he did was being acknowledged or appreciated. None of it. Not the $300,000 in trust accounts he had set up for Canvas's college fund, not the clothes and shoes she never had to buy, not the daycare
expenses he paid in advance, not even the relief he gave her on the weekends. What more did she want from him?

Jeff read Nadine up and down. He checked out this new look of hers. She had cut her hair shorter than he'd ever seen it. It was then that he concluded that this
Waiting to Exhale
moment wasn't about Canvas as she had wanted him to believe. This was about the two of them. He exhaled deeply, satisfied that he had figured it all out for himself. Yeah, this is exactly what this was about. And this brand-new language she was talking was her way of throwing salt on his still fresh open wounds. But he knew just how to handle her.

“You know what,” Jeff said, “I don't need this shit today.” He shot her a repulsive look before he walked over to the sliding door to open it. “Deandra, baby, let's go.” He turned back to Nadine who was still standing in the exact spot looking dumbfounded. “Where are his bags?”

“So just like that, huh? End of conversation!” She waited for his response, but it never came. She closed her eyes and reopened them. “Why do I even waste my breath?”

“His bags?” Jeff asked again, sounding more impatiently this time. He refused to entertain her miserable madness. No matter how far this conversation went, predictably so, it would end with him being to blame. “You know what, never mind.”

“Behind the door,” she retorted without so much as looking at him.

Jeff grabbed both of Canvas's bags before walking over to Nadine's bed. He scooped his son up in his arms and as he did so, Canvas slowly began to stir from his nap. He placed his head on Jeff's shoulder and fell right back to sleep. Jeff walked past Nadine with extreme urgency. Deandra was so closely behind her father, one would have thought the building was on fire. Nadine quickly
leaned in to hug and kiss Canvas as Jeff stopped to grab his keys off the bar. He saw two gold keys similar to what used to be his house key. Next to it her old lock. He snatched her old key off his key ring and left it on the bar all while thinking how asinine this was. Had she been woman enough to ask for the key, he would have given it back. No questions asked. She chose to make this more difficult than it had to be.

“I'll call and check on him later,” she hollered out as he opened the front door to let himself out.

Jeff turned around slowly and shot her the same cold menacing glare. “I take care of my son!” he said once again before turning to leave.

“A
dd forty on pump two with this,” Ménage told the slinky, bumpy-faced Arabian man standing behind the cash register. He had been watching her the entire time from the moment she entered the gas station, as he always did when she came in. She had on a pair of black super tight leggings and a fitted graffiti tank that cut off right above her navel. Sandals instead of stilettos. Panties instead of g-strings. No makeup or false eyelashes, only cherry lip gloss, big red hoops, and a pair of black and gold Gucci sunglasses. She was sure he had never seen her this way. Not this plain.

“That'll be $56.98,” the clerk said.

Ménage handed him all five and one-dollar bills. He grinned sheepishly as he reached in the register to collect her change. She knew he was judging her just as the others did that walked in and out of the store. But what they failed to realize was that she didn't give a hot damn as none of them were paying her bills.

“You have a boyfriend?” He smiled, revealing a missing tooth.

Ménage kept a straight face. “Yeah, I have a boyfriend,” she hauled out, chewing on her spearmint gum. She held out a hand to collect her change, then watched how he slowly bagged her items.

“Well, that's too bad, beautiful. I could have made you a very happy woman.”

Ménage was so turned off but tried not to show it. Not because
of his comment or the simple fact that she knew he couldn't do anything for her but keep her Honda gassed up. She was turned off by his overall appearance. Instead of being her normal smug self, she squeezed out a light chuckle. “My loss then,” she said. She grabbed her bag off the counter and without saying another word, she walked out of the store. No man could ever make her as happy as she was when she was with Slug. He loved her unconditionally and he would do
anything
for her. That was the solace and companionship she missed so much at times. It was the drama she couldn't put up with.

Ménage pumped her gas and got back into her car. She had a mild headache and excruciating cramps that seemed to get worse by the minute. She quickly popped open the bottle of Aleve and downed two pills with a gulp of Evian. Her day was already starting off wrong and because Mother Nature decided to crash down on her, she knew her weekend was going to suck in addition to putting a major dent in her pocket. She couldn't strip on her period. At least she preferred not to. So instead she would have to waitress for the night.

As she drove on the service road headed back home, she passed department stores, restaurants, and eventually the mall. Her plans for the weekend had definitely been crushed, but at this moment, all she wanted to do was lie up in bed with her honey, Jeff. The more time she invested in him, the closer she would be to the money.

She reached for her cell and as she was getting ready to select Jeff's name, her fingers scrolled down some more and then stopped on another name. Instead of putting the woman's real name in, Ménage had programmed Nadine's phone number under “The Bitch.” She knew Jeff had gone over to her place last night. She wasn't stupid. Besides, Jeff never hid that he was still very much involved with Nadine.

One time Ménage swore she'd tasted that bitch's pussy on his dick. That's when she let him know that she wasn't going behind another hoe unless she was getting paid to. That night he whipped out an extra $100 for the inconvenience. So as time went on, the easier it became to accept that Nadine wasn't leaving the situation on her own. Not without a good enough reason and Jeff was going to keep screwing the both of them. Luckily for Ménage, she didn't have any feelings whatsoever for him. Her feelings lied with his dick and his money! She had to keep her eyes on the prize, but The Bitch was becoming a major distraction that she had to eliminate from the equation. Until she got her nuts off and her stacks on deck.