Woman on Top Page 6

  A breathless silence lay between us, waiting to see who would make the next move, say the next word. Why didn’t he just throw me on the bed and get it over with?

  Loosening his grip on me, he didn’t let go, but his body relaxed while mine was peaked with anxieties.

  His tongue touched my earlobe with every word he spoke as he said, “You’re right. I’ve stayed too long. But the reason I’ve come is to offer my assistance.”

  “I don’t need you, for anything! Now get out! Please get out. . .” I begged, wrestling myself loose to turn around and face him.

  His face grew serious. “You will need me, because need I remind you that this game of elected official your husband is trying to play, I invented it. I own it and not only will you need my assistance, but your husband will need it as well, trust me.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, assured now that I’d been right, he was up to more than just seducing me.

  “You’ll see.” He paused, taking another look at me. Again, he lowered his voice. “Let me ask you this, does the Mayor make you cum like I did?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Like I thought.”

  “If you don’t leave now, I’m calling. . .”

  “Nobody,” he said, and then in an unexpected move, his right hand gripped my throat. “This, all of this,” he paused to peer down at my body and through gritted teeth added, “all this belongs to me, and you remember that when you lay in bed with the Mayor.”

  Chapter 6

  Homeward Bound

  I never met Max for yoga on Saturday morning and it was past eleven a.m. when I made it down to TREE. I was stirring sugar into my second cup of coffee when she plopped down in the seat across from me.

  “Hey girl, I see you decided to sleep in.”

  I kept my head down and nodded.

  “You don’t look too well rested, though. Maybe we drank too much.”

  The waiter came over and asked, “Coffee for you, Mrs. Welker?”

  “No, I’m good, but you might need to keep it coming for Mrs. Skinner.”

  “Huh?” I mumbled while cutting my eyes behind her, over to the entrance, and across the restaurant to see if Mr. Haney was still lurking.

  Max’s eyes followed my gaze and she turned to look behind her. “Are you expecting someone?” she asked,

  “No! Who would I be expecting? Why would you ask me that?”

  “Whoa, hold up. Why are you so jumpy? Is everything okay back home?”

  “What’s with all the damn personal questions?”

  She stood up. “Listen, it sounds like you need to be alone. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I put my hand over hers. “Max, wait I’m sorry.”

  My mobile rang, it was Malik’s number. When I hadn’t accepted his call at eight-thirty this morning, I knew he’d be calling back.

  “Hello.”

  Cautiously, Max backed into her seat.

  “Hi Mommy, when you coming home?” Nylah’s perky voice asked when I answered.

  I held eyes with Max. “Tomorrow, sweetie. You being a good girl?”

  “Daddy, am I being a good girl?” she asked her father, who I could hear in the background.

  “Daddy says yes. Mommy?”

  “Yes?” I responded, with not only tears choking my throat, but thoughts of Haney throwing suspicion about the parentage of Nylah. We’d never used condoms and I hadn’t been on birth control, but I was so stoned out my mind half the time when I was with him that anything was possible.

  “Daddy wants to know if you’re being a good girl.”

  Tears fell from my eyes that I couldn’t restrain. I could see concern etched into Max’s face. I took a sip of coffee.

  “Mommy loves you, baby.”

  “I love you, too. Here, Mommy, Daddy wants you.”

  “Hey, woman.”

  “Malik, hi. I missed your call, I was at yoga this morning,” I lied, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.

  Max’s eyebrows went up.

  “Good, now aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

  The waiter came to take our order and Max flagged him away.

  “Honey, I have to go. I have a massage. I’ll talk to you this evening, okay?”

  “Sure, I love you.”

  “Malik, everything okay back there?”

  “Everything is perfect, now enjoy yourself. See you tomorrow.” And with that, I disconnected the call, barely waiting for him to say goodbye.

  “Okay, what’s really going on?”

  “I didn’t mean for you to hear that, that lie. That’s not who I am.”

  “It’s okay, but what the hell happened?”

  “I can’t talk about it, but I’ve gotten myself into a terrible situation.”

  With a smile, she said, “Fine, you don’t have to talk to me, I mean, you don’t even really know me. But while you figure this out, let’s go for our treatments.”

  During the course of the day, Max didn’t push me to talk while we sat side-by-side for our mani and pedi, which made me appreciate her presence even more. Afterward, without asking, she’d booked us for body firming detox treatments, followed by a healing water bath, then we were off to a cooking demonstration. If nothing else, Max knew Woodloch and she knew what treatments would not only feel good, but also which would take my mind off the predicament I was in.

  The sun was barely cresting the mountains when I left Woodloch on Sunday morning, without even having said goodbye to Max. The crystal blue sky I’d watched on the way up had now turned a dismal gray and with each mile I drove toward home, my body grew tense with the anxiety of having to face my husband.

  No matter how many times I replayed Haney’s visit to my room, I couldn’t figure out a way to tell Malik. There’d be too many questions of why he was even there in the first place. He’d want to know why I hadn’t called hotel security, called him? But what could Malik have done? Press charges? For what, stalking me? The real question was, how had Haney known where to find me?

  But telling Malik and bringing about any kind of legal charges would also bring the media. We would be ruined if it became public knowledge that not only had I been in a relationship with the son, but the father as well. I didn’t want to imagine how those headlines would read, nor what it would do to my family, as it would certainly damage the relationship I had with my sister, since she believed that I was over him. I had to deal with this on my own.

  Not until I saw the headlights behind me, and heard the siren, did I realize I was driving as fast as my thoughts, reaching speeds of 85 mph. The result was a $150 ticket from a state trooper that I wasn’t able to sweet talk.

  It was almost noon when I pulled into our driveway, waving to Keenan, who sat watch outside our house. Inside, I found Malik in the kitchen reading the newspaper and watching the pre-Super Bowl Game activities, pitting the Steelers against the Cardinals.

  “Look who’s home already, my beautiful wife. C’mon over here.”

  “Where’s Nylah?” I asked, setting my suitcase at the bottom of the stairs.

  “She’s at Nanny’s but what about me? I’m here. I don’t get a kiss, an I miss you, nothing?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I walked over, put my arms around him and kissed my husband deeply. I pulled back and kissed him again, this time easing my hand down into his sweatpants.

  “Now that’s more like it. I’m taking you upstairs.”

  “No right here, take me right here,” I begged in his ear, needing to prove to myself, and Haney, that Malik satisfied me.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “We’re alone, c’mon let’s have some fun,” I said, all while pushing him back against the kitchen counter and subsequently pulling down his sweatpants, along with his boxers.

  “We. . . got. . . dinner at Nanny’s. . . the guys coming over for the game and. . .”

  While he mumbled, I took his hardness in my hand and was on my knees, about to
take him in my mouth when his mobile rang.

  “Hold up. Let me take this,” he said, guiding me up by my chin. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  Upstairs in our room, I undressed and waited for him, naked across the bed. I had to get thoughts of Haney flushed from my head and making love to my husband was the only way to do that.

  “Hope you didn’t change your mind,” he said, panting as if he’d taken the steps two at a time.

  Turning on my back, I spread my legs open and said, “Come here. Make love to me.”

  Kicking off his sneakers, he responded, “I’m gonna do that.”

  “I love you, Malik.”

  “Show me,” he said before he laid on top of me.

  Two hours later, Malik was still in the shower when I went downstairs to check my emails on the kitchen laptop, that’s when I noticed the article he’d been reading in the Philadelphia Inquirer, “Seniors Getting The Boot.” As social media savvy as my husband claimed to be, I thought he and his grandmother were the last two Philadelphians who still read the actual newspaper.

  Before I could see what it was about, I heard the doorbell ringing and music begin to play. I peeked out the curtains, but nobody was there except Keenan, still sitting in the Tahoe. I heard the ringing again and this time I could clearly hear Elle Varner singing, “I only wanna give it to you.” It definitely wasn’t the house phone, which lay next to the paper, and it wasn’t my mobile or Malik’s which was upstairs. That’s when I realized the music was coming from another room.

  I searched for the origin of the sound and found it in the family room. Surprisingly, I discovered a Galaxy phone stuffed behind the cushions of the couch. I answered. “Hello?”

  “Oh hello, Mrs. Skinner, I hate to bother you. It’s Cyndi Kilrain, the mayor’s press secretary. I was calling to see if I’d left my cell phone there.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear to see the caller ID and said, “I’m answering so obviously you did.”

  At the same time, Malik peered into the room and asked, “You ready?”

  I simply handed him the phone.

  “Hello. Sure Cyndi. I’ll bring it to the office tomorrow. Not a problem.”

  Standing with my feet firmly planted in front of him, and my arms crossed, I said, “Malik, what are you doing?”

  “Before you say anything, yes she was here and so was my Chief of Staff, Constance, and Deputy Mayor O’Hare; we had a meeting, she left her phone.”

  It was no secret that women were attracted to my husband, and Cyndi was clearly one of those women, with her unruly dirty blond hair, tight skirts that rose way above the knee, and her knack of anticipating his needs before he could even speak.

  “Do you think you could’ve told me you had people here?” I asked, possibly projecting my own guilt onto him.

  “I didn’t know I had to ask? Now stop, let’s go. I already called Nanny and told her we were running late for dinner,” he kissed me, “because you were insatiable.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I have the fellas coming over later to watch the game,” he said, as I trailed him into the kitchen.

  “Who’s coming?”

  “Since I have to tell you who’s coming over these days, it’s your brother-in-law, Commissioner Outlaw, and O’Hare. Is that okay with you, woman?”

  “Stop playing, Malik. I hope I don’t have to do any entertaining.”

  “Nope, fellas only and they’re bringing the food, so you don’t have to do anything,” he said, picking up two six packs of beer from the floor and putting them in the refrigerator.

  “Any word from Wesley?” I asked, hopeful, since he’d always been a part of Malik’s game day crew.

  “I sent him a text, no response. Now tell me about this spa weekend I paid for.”

  I’d forgotten Malik was going to want a full recap of my weekend and maybe this was my chance to be honest.

  “It was nice. I met a friend, a woman from Philly, a schoolteacher.”

  “I hope she’s a Democrat.”

  “Malik, stop. We didn’t talk politics.”

  “What else? How about your spa? Were you able to sleep without me?”

  “I slept, but Malik. . .”

  Distracted by an incoming text message he said, “It’s always about politics.”

  “Anyway, what else has been going on in your town?” I asked, changing the subject from my spa trip, while I pulled our coats from the hall closet.

  You’ll be happy to know your husband has been working on readjusting his schedule. I plan to be home with my family on Sundays, and maybe earlier during the week, you know, before Nylah goes to bed.”

  “Why are you doing that?”

  “So we can do more of what we just did. I mean we are building a family, aren’t we?”

  “I guess.”

  A quizzical look covered his face when he said, “You guess? I thought we were on the same page with having another baby. You said you’d think about it.”

  “I did.”

  Holding onto my shoulders, he asked, “Well, birth control or not? Talk to me, Tiffany, tell me that upstairs, wasn’t only because you missed me, but because you want the same thing I want.”

  “Of course, Malik, of course I want to have another baby,” I lied. “Now tell me what’s been going on in your city and why you’re having private meetings at my house?” I asked, trying to change the topic of babies and my spa trip.

  “This right here is what’s happening in Philly,” he said, tapping his finger against the newspaper headline. He read aloud, “Resident’s homes in the crime-infested neighborhood of Point Breeze, known for its home invasions and drug wars have been put under eminent domain. . . Wallus, Spevak & Rule, and their representative, former DA Mr. Gregory Haney, II met with the Mayor and the City Redevelopment Authority last week to discuss alternatives.’”

  He slipped into his coat, helped me with mine, then continued. “They want to build luxury townhomes, an upscale restaurant, fitness center, you know the drill, it’s all for the millennials,” he stated, then added, “I hope it’s not one of your brother’s ventures, because it’s Nanny’s neighborhood they’re talking about.”

  “The article says you met with Haney, is that true?” I asked more concerned about his meeting with Haney than his grandmother’s neighborhood being obliterated for condos.

  “Can you get my iPad over there?” he asked, pointing to the shelf over the television.

  “Your meeting, Malik?” I asked again before handing over the iPad.

  “Yes, it was Friday morning at my office, Haney, Ron Spevak, Wallace Pitts and Jason Wu.”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked, leaning back against the sink for support.

  “Do what?”

  “Meet with that man; I don’t understand how you could be comfortable with him.”

  “Tiffany, he’s not a threat to me. C’mon it’s time to go,” he said, checking his watch.

  Recalling the comment Haney had made about Malik needing his assistance, I kept asking questions as we headed down the hall toward the front door.

  “What did he want? I mean what can he do for you?”

  “The law firm is representing the neighborhood and he’s the liaison. They’re hoping to slow things down until I can speak to city council. It was no big deal.”

  “Don’t you make the final decision on eminent domains?”

  “It’s complicated like everything else in this city. But listen, if he wants to represent the neighborhood through the law firm, then that’ll make their case stronger.”

  “You should’ve told me you were meeting with him,” I said, while standing behind him as he set the house alarm.

  “We’re back to that, you wanting to know who I meet with? I’d say you’re being a little irrational.”

  “Malik, he isn’t any ole body.”

  “You’re right, but it was added to my schedule on Thursday and I didn’t want to bother you. It’s no big deal. We me
t, discussed the situation, and that was it.”

  Little did my husband know, that wasn’t it.

  Chapter 7

  Soul Food Sunday

  Malik’s grandmother resided in a typical three-bedroom row home, and regardless of the deteriorating condition of her neighborhood or the increase in crime, she wasn’t moving. A highly respected member of her Point Breeze community, you could often find Nanny gossiping with neighbors, scolding children, and doling out unsolicited parental advice, all from her front porch, which barely held two chairs and a fly swatter.

  Politics, of course, was her favorite topic and she let everyone know that God wasn’t taking her from this earth until Malik reached the White House. It took her six months to stop bragging when Malik and I attended the White House State Dinner during his first year as Mayor.

  Refusing to learn anything about computers or the Internet, she retired after 37 years with the Department of Recreation. However she stayed active by visiting the senior center for an exercise group, church on Sunday and Bible Study on Wednesday.

  To my husband, Nanny meant everything. She’d been given the responsibility of raising her newborn grandson, when Malik’s parents died in a tragic car accident. And even though she herself was legally blind, she never wavered in caring for him nor did she listen to naysayers who said she couldn’t do it.

  Nanny was a big woman, more by personality than size, so it was easy to see why Malik never gave her any trouble.

  Arriving on Latona Street, there were a few guys hanging out who acknowledged Malik as we got out the car. He barely had his key in his grandmother’s door, when I heard Nylah screaming.

  “Mommy’s home! Mommy’s home!” my little girl yelled, running toward me and wrapping herself around my legs.

  I scooped her up in my arms and nuzzled her neck. “Mommy missed her baby.”

  “Did you bring me a present?” she screamed over the loud volume of the living room television.

  Unfortunately, after Haney’s shocking visit, I’d forgotten all about bringing something back for my daughter. “No, but Mommy has something special planned for us, okay?”

  “Come on in, dinner’s on the dining room table,” Nanny yelled from the kitchen, confident that she could time her meals to Malik’s exact arrival.