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  “Dior, you might not plan to but that’s where the road you’re headed down leads. Me, I love being a square. Need I remind you that you’re in my whip? My square job and my square husband help to keep me rolling in it. Thank God.”

  “Whatever, I’m just saying…can’t do the square thing.”

  “Here’s a note for you, cousin, we all have to grow up sooner or later.”

  “I hear you, just ain’t ready yet. Anyways, all that stuntin’ I do, it’s cool because it’s like I’ve heard you say, that God of yours knows my heart.”

  “Listen at you. He knows your heart. That’s another reason for you to check yourself because He does know about the stuff you’re too ashamed to tell me.” After Chandelle got her dig in, she backed out of the small parking lot and proceeded toward the apartment she’d sworn never to revisit, Kevlin’s den. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she huffed. “Nothing good can come from getting mixed up with him again. He’s a snake, poison.”

  “Bump that, Chandelle. Kevlin said he was sorry, and that’s what’s up. Let me out so I can get what I’ve been dreaming about for almost two weeks.” Dior hopped out and wrestled her bag down the walkway to an open gazebo-style beige-colored brick building with three doors on either side. She knocked at the nearest door on the right. When a yellow-toned, muscle-bound man wearing a long gangster perm and sagging blue jeans opened it, Dior’s eyes floated up in a begging-please-take-me-in manner. Chandelle, looking on from the street, shook her head disapprovingly. Kevlin’s expression was undecipherable to Chandelle as he stared at Dior and her bag resting at his doorstep. Then he leaned out to clock whoever was watching their reunion from the red Volvo idling in the road.

  Yeah, I’m the one who told Dooney you were putting hands on his twin. Uh-huh, the same one who’s responsible for him posting you up at the car wash and had you crying like a li’l punk, Chandelle thought, as she rolled down the window so he could see her face clearly, displaying her unmistakable contempt for him and men like him. Yeah, the stitches and the lumpy hospital bed, that was all on me.

  After mean-mugging Chandelle like he wanted to return the favor, Kevlin nodded his head respectfully instead, pecked Dior on the lips, and then ushered her inside.

  “That’s what I thought,” Chandelle mouthed triumphantly, before making a fast U-turn to get out of the area as quickly as possible. Although Dior was willing to brave the climate of the low-rent apartment district, she wasn’t in the mood to reminisce on the life she led before leaving it all where it belonged, in the past.

  2

  At the Job

  Appliance World, a second-rate retail operation, thrived in the midst of mammoth-sized chain stores dwarfing it on both sides. When the owner, Larry Mercer, learned that two appliance giants wanted his location near the busy freeway, he held out for more money. Unfortunately, his plan backfired. Instead of making another lofty offer to purchase his property, each built stores on either side and squeezed him in the middle.

  Weeks before Mr. Mercer was forced to pull the plug on his family business, Chandelle’s husband, Marvin, walked through the front door to price a blender. The salesmen on duty had neither salesmanship skills nor an appreciation for customers. After overhearing Marvin explain how that was a leading reason most people were reluctant to do business with African Americans (who expected to succeed simply because their doors were opened), Mr. Mercer took a good look the attractive medium brown shopper and quickly offered him an assistant manager’s position on the spot. Marvin’s first order of business was scheduling training classes for all eight of the slacker salespeople.

  Three years later, Mr. Mercer was happily making money hand over fist because of Marvin’s diligence and training techniques. The fact that he still held the same position, at the same salary grade, both made Chandelle very unhappy. She wanted him to be more of a corporate mogul instead of an aspiring store manager of Appliance World. She also kept after him to trade in his khaki pants and navy short sleeve pullover uniform for a sleek designer suit. Marvin’s business degree hadn’t produced much in the way of options, but Chandelle didn’t give up hope. Her husband would be important some day, she’d see to that. Oddly enough, Marvin was the type to fight sudden change head on. Although he loved Chandelle, it was her constant bouts of impulsivity and ongoing propensity to own a lot more than she could afford that he couldn’t stand.

  At 7:05 P.M., Marvin’s cell phone rang. With a semiannual sale running at top speed, he was glad to have a moment to himself. He lay down the remnants of a half-eaten baloney sandwich, his third of the day, in order to wrestle the tiny handheld from his belt holster. “Hello, this is Marvin,” he answered, wiping crumbs from his thin mustache as if the caller could see him in disarray. “Uh, yeah, Kim, I have a minute. Thanks for returning my page.”

  The empty break room at the rear of the store watched him smile. Nearly twenty years had lapsed since he’d seen her, Kim Hightower, but he couldn’t shake the indelible image of a beautiful 18-year-old prom queen he’d carried a serious torch for, along with over a thousand other mannish boys at John Quinn High. Now an accomplished realtor, Kim was back in his life to help him and Chandelle find their first dream house. The thought of his lovely wife catching a glimpse of him gushing over another woman pushed that eager grin from his lips.

  “Good,” Kim replied. “I’m very excited to be working with an old schoolmate, but I’ll have to be honest, Marvin, I can’t seem to remember you. Anyhoo,” Kim continued, “we can catch up tomorrow. And just so you know, I have selected six very nice properties for you and the Mrs. to view. Based on your e-mails, there should be something she likes in the bunch. If not, we’ll keep going until we stumble onto something that she does.”

  “You found six very nice houses in our price range,” Marvin asked, somewhat surprised. “I thought Chandelle’s list of ‘must-haves’ would have sent you running in the other direction.”

  “A lesser realtor might have, but that’s why you were referred to me. Like you, I have a reputation for exceeding expectations. Finding a home with the perfect amenities is the key.” When Kim sensed Marvin was blushing with pride, she laid it on a little thicker. “Oh, you’re not the only one who does their homework. Mr. Mercer is lucky to have you running the store from what I hear. Just make sure you have that pretty wife of yours at my office around nine in the morning so I can show you how I do my thing.”

  “Confident, I like that,” he said, nodding his head assuredly. “We’ll be there.” Marvin closed his flip phone, tossed the brown lunch bag into the trash can, and then exited the break room feeling ten feet tall. He was not only looking forward to being the first man in his family to purchase a home, he also wanted to give Chandelle what she’d wanted all of her life: a castle fit for a queen.

  While easing through the long dimly lit corridor, separating the warehouse from the showroom floor, Marvin stopped. Something moved a heavy refrigerator wrapped inside an upright box. He circled around, expecting to offer extra muscle to an employee carrying it to the delivery dock. He knew it was a mistake when a full pair of breasts greeted him instead. “Ooh-ooh,” he hooted, embarrassed for himself as well as the woman whose dress Mr. Mercer had his hands rummaging beneath. “My bad, y’all,” Marvin apologized, although reluctant to turn away from the erotic scene. “Mr. Mercer, I had no idea you were back here with…”

  “Well, now that you do know,” the store owner barked, “get up to the front and make sure everybody is selling something on the floor!”

  Marvin stared at his boss, a raisin shade of brown and smaller than him in size. But the man was determined to prove his manhood before granting the full-figured female his usual half-off discount in exchange for her services rendered.

  “Don’t make me say it again, Marvin,” Mr. Mercer grunted quietly.

  Looks like you’re about to get into something that might get you cut by Mrs. Mercer, Marvin thought. “Yes, sir, I see, and please believe me, I ain’t say
ing nothing to nobody. It’s like they say? Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  Mr. Mercer glared at Marvin viciously. “Just say it walking.”

  Marvin did what his boss demanded, like he’d done too many times before to count. Although sneaking another peek at the woman’s impressive half-off coupons, he went on about his business trying to forget the owner’s best attempt to handle his.

  Customers looking for deals, scurried throughout the showroom like ants at a picnic. Marvin loved a busy store because of the opportunity to make higher commissions. He noticed a familiar face among the crowd, one that always made him glad he married Chandelle. The face belonged to her cousin Dooney. He couldn’t wait to visit with his favorite customer, who never bought a single thing. But first he had to make a slick managerial maneuver, he thought as he saw Lem, a young salesman in training, was headed out back to check inventory. Marvin placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder to stop him. “What’s up, Lem?”

  “Just hustling to make another sale, just like you taught me,” he answered proudly. “I’m going to see if we have any more of those stainless steel side by sides, the big unit.”

  It’s a big unit back there, but not the one you’re looking for. “That’s gonna have to wait. Mr. Mercer is doing inventory in the warehouse,” he lied. “And he doesn’t want to be disturbed. It shouldn’t take too long, though. He’s pretty fast at this sort of thing.”

  Lem, a lanky twenty-year-old kid, looked up at Marvin and then smirked. “Please don’t tell me ol’ man Mercer’s in the hole again pushing up on another customer to get him some discount booty?”

  “That’s not what I said, but you can’t interrupt him and you do need to respect the man’s need for privacy.”

  “Whatever, Marvin, that’s a dirty old dude and you know it. Let me know when he’s done. I need this sale.”

  “Cool, I’ll page you on the intercom to the warehouse when I see him come out. Stall the customer until then. Show the new business office Executive Cooler line. Nobody wants to pop for it but everybody likes the presentation. If you need me to jump in, I’ll be around.”

  Lem dashed off to locate the customers he’d left with their faces shoved inside a lift-top deep freezer. Marvin struck out in the other direction. He wasn’t up for standing guard over Mercer’s evening rendezvous. If another associate busted him like he had, that was just too bad.

  “I’ll take two of everything,” Dooney hollered, when he saw Marvin approaching. He was the same shade of cinnamon as his sister Dior, handsome, nearly six feet, slight of build but wiry. Always dressed in starched jeans, pressed button up shirts worn outside of them, and neatly polished hard-soled shoes, Dooney’s cornrows seemed out of place until he opened his mouth. Then, rock-solid evidence of the hard streets that helped mold him came pouring out. “What you know, good Kinfolk?”

  “Lying,” Marvin replied, while shaking his friend’s hand.

  “Hey, hold on, we’ll get back to that,” Dooney said, putting off the conversation he planned on spinning with Marvin. He returned to the one he’d started with a curvy, thick-hipped employee with her nose in the air. “Back to you,” he continued, flirting vehemently. “You say your name is Reeka? For real? Is that like Eureka? ’Cause I’m on time for that whole sweating-digging-getting-dirty thing.”

  “Funny, you don’t look as foolish as you sound. Don’t waste your dreams on me. Whatever you think this is, it ain’t,” she spat, crossing her arms. “Marvin, get your cousin. Call his parole officer or something.”

  “He’s harmless, Reeka,” Marvin chuckled. “But I’ll hip him to the news for you.”

  The young woman swung her hips in his face, then sashayed away, to offer him a lengthy gaze at what she’d determined was out of his league. Dooney’s eyes locked on to her behind like a guided missile. “Man, that’s all to the good. Reeka, I’ve got to remember that.”

  “Naw, you can forget that,” argued Marvin. “Reeka’s got her college papers, feeling herself, and she’s too uptight to give a brotha like you a swat at it.”

  “All I’d need was one, I know that much,” he laughed. “Whewww-wee. She’s fully grown like a bison, one of them buffalos on the western movie channel.” After amusing himself with the buffalo analogy, Dooney recalled what Marvin insinuated in his last comment. “Hey, man, what you mean…a brotha like me?” When his question was returned with a we-both-know-you’ve-been-locked-up sneer, he digressed. “Okay, I see what you’re screamin”, but she don’t know that. Not necessarily.”

  “Dooney, what exactly are you rolling through on the busiest day of the year to do?”

  “Who me? I’m browsing. I figure with the sale and your friends and family fifteen percent off the back end, it’s got to be something up in here I can splurge on.”

  “All right then, get at me if you come up with whatever that something might be.”

  “Straight up, I’ll do that. Right after I get back into this hunting expedition I was on when you crept up.” The associate he was smitten with sauntered near with a stack of DVDs to reshelf. “Wait, Reeka, you dropped this…It’s your ghetto pass. They won’t let you back into the projects without it.”

  “Marvin, get him!” she shrieked.

  “Dooney, let the girl work now. She’s on the clock.”

  “And I’m on time for that, Marvin. I’m just gonna bend her ear a minute and see what snaps back.”

  Marvin saw that look in his eyes, the one insinuating he was in a hurry to see Reeka getting undressed. “Dooney? Dooney!”

  3

  Hers over His

  “I thought you were tired,” Chandelle cooed beneath Marvin’s heaving chest. It was three in the morning. She was married, happily, and at the moment extremely satisfied. “Okay…okay. You got me that time. I’ll admit it. You won,” her voice confessed softly in his ear. “Good game, baby.”

  “Yeah, it was kinda intense,” Marvin replied, rolling off to rest, spooning behind her. “Let me know if you want to run it back. I’ll just need a minute to…” he said, with his words fading into the darkness of their bedroom.

  Still basking in the afterglow, Chandelle purred seductively at the mere thought of another lengthy session with her husband. “You know I can’t say no to you…never could. Remember how I used to rush home from work, Marvin? Marvin? Marvin?” He answered her with a chorus of light snores and deep sighs. Chandelle chuckled and pulled his arm tighter around her waist. “Go ’head on and rest, baby. Lord knows you deserve it.”

  Marvin continued his after-lovemaking anthem until the alarm clock interrupted him at eight in the morning. Reluctantly, he cracked his eyelids to peek at the red blinking numbers that flashed atop his nightstand. After he slapped at the digital clock, the insistent buzzing ceased. “It cannot be eight already.”

  “Hmmm,” Chandelle sang, her voice tired and dry. “Come on, let’s get up. My house is out there waiting on me to find it.”

  “My?” he questioned. “You said my.”

  “What’s mine is yours; you proved that again last night,” she said, sitting up to meet the morning, as a back-arching stretch and yawn greeted her.

  “Why don’t you get the shower going, I’ll be in…in a minute,” Marvin suggested halfheartedly.

  “I used to fall for that, baby, but I caught on a long time ago. Get up now. We’ve got to get started.”

  At Chandelle’s prodding, Marvin swung one leg over the side of the bed but held his position under the covers. “Yeah, you fell for that one a lot,” he laughed. “Every now and then it took a hard sell, but I used to pull it off. Remember how you’d come stumping out of the restroom in a cloud of steam like Diana Ross in Mahogany? Marvin, you get your big head out of that bed,” he mimicked. “Had me waiting on you. Should’ve known you’d go back to sleep as soon as my back was turned.”

  “Yep, I was so gullible then, but you couldn’t blame me for being a newlywed and wanting to be with my husband every moment of the day. That hasn’t cha
nged, but I learned to recognize when I was being conned. Besides, we both can’t stay shacked up in the bedroom all day.”

  “It’s a wonderful thought, though. We could get a flat screen TV put in right over the bed, replace the nightstands with miniature refrigerators, and have food delivered three times a day.”

  “Marvin?” Chandelle cooed like she had a few hours before.

  “Yes, sweetheart?” he answered, with both eyes still tightly closed.

  “Stop stalling, stop trying to con me, and get your big head out of that bed.”

  “Busted.”

  Once up and out of their two-bedroom apartment, Chandelle pulled a set of keys from her jeans pocket and tossed them to Marvin. “Let’s take my car, I need some gas.” She knew he would use his debit card to fill her tank. Not that he would mind, but Chandelle was already envisioning thirty-five dollars’ worth of bath gels and body oils she’d rather spend her private slush funds on. Marvin had no idea that she’d opened a secret bank account with a high-interest credit card after they had been approved for a mortgage loan, but he was wise to the “let’s take my car when the tank is low” gimmick when opening the passenger side door to escort her into the car.

  Chandelle was giddy as all get out when they pulled into the service station. She was still humming while strutting inside for coffee.

  “I’m so hyped about this,” Chandelle chuckled, after returning to the car with two cups of butterscotch cappuccino and a bag of glazed donuts. “It’s taken three years but we’re finally doing it. It feels good.”

  Marvin folded the gas receipt, then shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. “You know, it took some doing to save up for that down payment, but we stayed on it. Had to get the money right,” he said, looking both ways before veering out on to Skillman Avenue. “We should have been further along, but everything has its own schedule, I guess.”