She shook her head. “I don’t like being fucked over. Not at all.”
“What did he confess?”
“I told him that he could’ve gotten that bitch pregnant and he told me that there was no way for that to happen.” She laughed an angry laugh, an intense laugh, the bitter kind that showed the dark side of a person’s soul. “He’d had a vasectomy after his first divorce. He can’t have kids. Here I am trying to get pregnant, thinking that something’s wrong with me ...”
“Damn.”
“He’d been acting like he was all for us having a baby. Had me paranoid, walking around thinking my shit was fucked up.”
I chuckled at the man’s brilliance. “He got his nuts cut on the DL.”
“I knew about his court-ordered child support, about his divorce, about his property, his cars, knew everything before the first date. No lawsuits. No bankruptcies. Clean as hell. He didn’t even have a speeding ticket. I found out all I could about him, but that got by me.”
“No tickets. You didn’t write him up?”
She smiled.
I went on, “You knew everything before the first date? What’s up with that?”
She ran her hand across her hair. “Nothing. Skip it.”
I told her, “You ran a background check on the white boy.”
“Damn right. Of course. But not everything shows up when you run background.”
“Not medical.”
She nodded, then shook her head. “Not medical.”
I asked, “You run background on all the men you date?”
She nodded my way. “Memphis. Your wife and brother were with you. They found a hundred pounds of marijuana and fifty thousand in cash in your Explorer. Trafficking. You would’ve done at least six years, but you had a good attorney, jails were overcrowded, your crime was nonviolent, had a clean record, a first-time offender, got away with doing two years.”
I stared at her. A very uncomfortable stare. She’d been swimming in my Kool-Aid.
She said, “It’s public record. Can be pulled on the Department of Corrections Web site.”
I let her words ride. The reason I’d never be allowed to vote was available to anybody with access to cyberspace. God bless the Internet. It was my record, but it wasn’t the truth.
She went back to talking about her husband, voiced her own angst while I marinated in mine, said, “So, with the prenuptial that says none of this is mine, and since he can’t get me pregnant, won’t consider having a child anytime soon, you know how that shit makes me feel?”
I cleared my throat. “Tell me.”
“Like a whore. Makes me feel like I’m here just to service him. I’m nobody’s whore. What he’s done ... the lies ... how he’s bamboozled me ... people get killed over crap like that.”
“What was his excuse?”
“Oh, please. He said he could have it reversed when he was ready. When he was ready.” Her anger had tripled. “I’m forty. I’m not twenty-five. You know what I’m saying?”
I nodded. “You’re serious about ... him having an accident.”
“I’m serious, accident or otherwise.”
I took a deep breath, let it out slow and easy.
Her frown deepened, made her skin wrinkle and look ten years older as she gazed around at the topography. “You don’t know how hard this is.”
“How hard what is?”
“I gave up my job. Quit the force to be his wife and help him run his business. Wanted to have a normal life, come correct and devote myself to him, be old-fashioned, let him lead.”
I sat up. Put my feet in the warm water, moved them back and forth.
She sat up, leaned against me. “I don’t like being fucked over.”
Time crept by on the edge of a cool breeze. She rubbed my back, my shoulders.
I said, “I don’t like being fucked over either. Don’t like people playing Dick Tracy.”
“Are you mad because I know about your record?”
I didn’t answer, just asked, “What happens if he gets killed, accident or otherwise?”
“He’s covered. Insurance pays off the house.”
“His kids?”
“His kids are taken care of, but so am I.”
“Then?”
“Life goes on.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Then, after I dry my eyes, all I’ll need is a king. A queen in a castle like this, a king will be all I need. I’ll be able to afford everything. But a woman can’t do everything by herself. I’ll just need somebody to give me beautiful and strong babies. Somebody to be here and be Daddy.”
I glanced around. You got invited into a playground like that and it was hard to unplug yourself and go back to your own reality. I’d been in prison. I’d