Twisted Vows of Seduction (25 page)

“Exactly!” He walked around to his library shelf and pulled down a thick folder. “As long as I take care of myself, doctors say I will live just as long as someone without it.” Leonard handed the folder to Greg.

“What's this?”

“Copies of all of your and Vivian's assets. I need you to look everything through carefully to ensure I've included everything.”

“What's the next step?”

“We file a petition with the court stating the grounds for divorce. Separation and abandonment,” Leonard said. “We'll make that stick with how she left you for three years to move to Connecticut. Her failure to complete the rehab program should work in our favor as well.”

There was stony silence. Greg shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. He flipped through the folder. Leonard had included everything, right down to the money Vivian had stashed in her bra sock. It was definitely going to get ugly.

“Care if I hang out and look through it here?”

“Not at all, man. You'll have the place to yourself because I'm taking my lady to church with me this morning. So I'm going to go get ready.”

“Go do your thing,” Greg said. He made himself comfortable while Leonard headed upstairs.

“Oh yeah,” Leonard hollered from the stairwell. “Call your wife, man! She called me looking for you.”

Greg gave it some thought. In fact he gave it a lot of thought. When he finally made up his mind to call her, she didn't answer. He looked at the clock. By now she was in the mirror patting foundation on her face as she got ready for church.

“Leonard, I'ma go ahead and go home, man.”

Leonard peered from the stairwell. He was looping his tie.

“Everything in this folder looks sufficient. I'm ready to get this over with.”

“No problem. I'll file it first thing tomorrow morning.”

Greg walked to the door and let himself out. He made it home in thirty minutes flat, without speeding. He unlocked the door
and walked inside what now seemed more like a tourist spot. It didn't feel much like home anymore. His home was now in Los Angeles. As he walked through the great room, he hadn't noticed the new draperies until now as the sunlight lit up the usually dark house. The smell of roasted coffee beans gave her away. She was still home. Damn, he thought she'd be at church by now. She came out of the kitchen, a fresh cup of coffee in her right hand and no clear evidence that she was going anywhere.

“My, my, my. Look at who decided to come home,” Vivian said sarcastically.

Greg cleared his throat, obviously surprised to see her. “I just left Leonard's place. Stayed out pretty late last night,” he said shortly as he headed toward the bedroom, hoping to avoid the interrogation. He didn't mean for Leonard to be his alibi; it just sort of came out that way.

“And the night before. Where were you?”

“Look, I really don't feel like having this discussion. Can it at least wait?”

“I called you at least a hundred times, Greg! I was worried sick about you and you couldn't at least call once? That's so fucking inconsiderate of you!”

“I'm sorry,” was all Greg could say as he undressed, headed for the shower, his wife right on his tail.

“You're sorry every time you can't think of a good enough lie to shut me up,” she clamored.

Greg cut through every corner of the house to try to escape her madness but couldn't.

“Are you involved with someone else?” she asked finally.

Greg stopped in his tracks. He turned to her and the air in the room seemed to dissipate.

She sniffed. “Just be honest with me for a fucking chance,” she said, with pleading eyes. “That's all I ask.”

This was the moment he knew would soon come. He was forced to face her with the truth. She looked down at his left hand. His wedding ring was missing. She tucked in her lips and tears began to fall from her bright blue eyes. “You haven't worn your ring in nearly eight months,” she said, acknowledging how long she'd known about his latest affair.

“I never meant to hurt you, Vivian,” he said.

She splashed the hot coffee in his face. “Bullshit!”

“Aghhh! What the hell is wrong with you!” he screamed.

“You will pay for this,” she said. “Mark…my…word.”

S
he lay there in bed, missing everything there was to miss about him. She missed his conversation, his friendship, and his warm hard body in her bed. Naomi wanted that feeling she had when she was with Greg to last for a lifetime, but she knew that it wouldn't. She had kept so much from him and had deceived him in a way that she couldn't bear to bring herself to tell him the truth now. It would be too difficult to do. So all she could do now was accept things as they were. He would probably hate her for the rest of his life, and she wouldn't blame him, because she'd brought it all on herself.

As she got up to finish packing what little belongings she would take with her, she started to cry. She didn't know where she was going, but she was going. She couldn't do this anymore.

She stopped when she heard the doorbell.
It was him
, she thought. The last thing she wanted was to see him right now. It would make this that much harder. She had wanted their last moment together to be her last memory of him. She had wanted to hold on to that.

She hurried to the door to answer it and as soon as she did, Maribel barged inside.

“Maribel!” Naomi said surprised. She tried to hide the tears misted in her eyes as Maribel walked right past her without uttering a word. The woman reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. Naomi
had known she wouldn't give up the bottle. She knew it the day she'd dropped out of the rehab program they had been in together. It was where they had first met. Where they voluntarily shared their battles and addiction with alcohol. Where they traded stories about how it had ruined their lives and the lives of their families. Naomi remembered thinking the first time she saw her,
What's a pretty white woman like that doing in a place like this
? She'd found out very soon that like drugs, alcohol didn't discriminate. The counselor had told them all as they sat there waiting for the secret cure, that the first step was admitting that there was a problem. Maribel had been in denial, Naomi remembered. She was addicted to alcohol and prescription pills. And looking at her now, nothing hadn't changed.

“I wasn't expecting you,” Naomi said, watching Maribel's eyes scope the place.

Maribel finally turned to her and it was only then that she noticed the woman's mascara-streaked face. “Are you okay, Maribel?”

If looks could kill, Naomi would have taken her last breath right then, right there.

“You know, Naomi, it breaks my heart that you haven't been completely honest with me. After all I've done to try to help you.” Maribel allowed her words to register fully. “Did you think I wouldn't find out?”

Naomi was completely caught off-guard. “I don't believe I know what this is about.”

“Sure you don't.” Maribel walked over to where Naomi stood and flipped over her left hand.
“That
, is what the hell this is about!” She clearly pointed to the diamond ring.

Naomi took a deep breath and tried to quickly gather her thoughts. “I can explain—”

“Too late! I have all I need. That's why I've come to tell you I don't need your help anymore. My husband and I have decided to reconcile. We're going to work on our marriage,” she said without a break in her voice.

A distressed look caused every part of Naomi's face to crumple. “What do you mean,
your
husband?”

“You seem like a pretty bright woman, Naomi. Figure it out.”

At that moment, Naomi realized that she had been deceived by Greg's own wife.

“How could you do this to him?” Naomi managed as she glared at Vivian incredulously.

Ignoring Naomi, Vivian snatched her purse wide open and whipped out a mustard-colored envelope. “Your plane ticket is in here.”

“Plane ticket? Whaa—” Naomi gasped.

“Yes. To Canada.”

Naomi was speechless. Everything felt like a whirlwind. Her eyes were fixed on the woman who had led her to believe that her name had been, Maribel, when all along she was Greg's wife. She had even gone by the alias in rehab. Maribel Strutters.

“Call me when you arrive,” Vivian added.

Naomi had completely become undone. She could hardly think straight.

“Are you listening?”

“I don't know about this!” Her tone changed unexpectedly. “This is all so sudden.” She tried to catch her breath. It felt like she was drowning.

“Here!” Vivian practically shoved the envelope into Naomi's hand as if there were no other options to consider. “Your plane leaves out Friday morning.”

Naomi kept her words at bay all while contemplating how she
had unknowingly made a deal with the devil himself. Vivian had used her and she was too blind to see through all the lies. She had been plotting on her since day one. Everything Naomi had told her, everything she had confessed, Vivian used to her advantage. Her thoughts were scrambled and her heart ached for Greg. He needed to know the truth. He needed to know what this woman was capable of.

“And give me the phone. You won't be needing it any longer.”

Naomi reluctantly walked over to the table and handed Vivian the phone she had loaned her.

“Leave the keys under the mat. I'll pick them up Friday,” Vivian said matter-of-factly. She headed for the door then stopped in her tracks once again. “It'll hurt much less if you make yourself forget that it ever happened,” Vivian suggested. “So…I'll warn you now. Stay the fuck away from
my
husband,” she threatened, her soft voice wrapped in pure malice. “Or you're going to wish like hell you never met me.” With that she walked off.

“Where's the rest of the money you promised me?” Naomi called out to her.

“You're wearing it,” Vivian said smugly as she slammed the door behind her.

The sound of that door closing was like Naomi's own life ending. She let her tears roll down her face as she stood there. How could he do this to her? How could he go back to her after everything she'd done to him? Didn't he know she was trying to drive him crazy? That she wanted evidence to use against him? That she was an impetuous alcoholic who didn't know a damn thing about loving him.

Naomi needed to talk to him. At least once. She needed to tell him the truth and express her role in all of it. She was willing to take responsibility for her part, but he needed to know that his
wife was the real monster. That she had set this whole thing up. As tears rushed from her eyes, she felt herself growing weaker. She questioned if she should fight it or if it was easier to let it all go and forget she and Greg ever happened, as Vivian had insisted she do.

“E
www-wee, girl, all these bourgeois bitches up in here,” Tiffany piped as they walked through the Bank of America lobby. All eyes were on him and he dared to not notice it.

Ménage walked ahead feeling as if she were the bank's president as all eyes switched to their direction. She was dressed in the finest of fashions, and her hair was combed back in a long straight ponytail that hung to the lower part of her back.

They stood in line and when the two available tellers called them up, they each went to separate windows.

“How may I help you?” the cheerful young, dark-skinned girl asked. She had the biggest ears Ménage had ever seen in her entire life, but she had beautiful dimples.

“Hi. I came to cash my settlement check,” she began, handing the woman a personal check written in the amount of $50,000.

The teller looked over the check carefully, maintaining her friendly customer service smile. “Ms. Greer, may I have your right thumbprint here.”

Ménage placed her thumb in the inkpad and then stuck her print on the check.

“And may I see two forms of identification.”

Ménage handed the teller her driver's license and credit card. She studied them closely. “And here's my social security card, too,” she said, laying it on the counter as well.

“Thank you.”

The teller began pecking away at her computer, and as she did so, Ménage looked over at Tiffany to see how things were going on his end. She could hear the teller asking him for the same identification Rhonda had just asked her.

“Ms. Greer, how would you like your cash back?” Rhonda asked.

Ménage tried to hold her excitement in. “Whatever's easiest for you, Rhonda,” she said politely.

“Okay, Ms. Greer. I'll have to step to the back to get your cash, but I'll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Ménage said. “I'm in no hurry, honey.”

“Please help yourself to some coffee and cookies while you wait. We're also running a great promotion. If you open a checking account with us today, you'll receive a Black & Decker toaster.”

“I'll think about it,” Ménage said as she made her way to the lobby. Shortly after, Tiffany followed.

“Bitch, we about to be paid!” he said the second he sat down.

“Sshhh! They may hear your loudmouth ass.”

Tiffany quickly placed a hand over his mouth. He wrapped his turquoise and fuchsia scarf around his neck and began messing with his eyelashes. “Ewww, chile, I think my lash is trying to fall off. I can't have that. Let me go to the bathroom and fix this hot ass mess.”

“Can't it wait?”

Tiffany looked at Ménage as if he had been offended. “Ugh…no!”

“Hurry your ass up,” Ménage whispered through clenched teeth.

Tiffany picked up his purse and dashed off to save his artificial eyelash while Ménage sat there patiently waiting for her money. She calculated how much she would have in total. She hated to have to give Tiffany $10,000 of it for coming with her, but she
figured there was plenty more where that came from so she didn't sweat it.