or in a Harlem brownstone.
She said, “Twenty-five thousand? How does that sound?”
Her rich words made me swallow the last of my debilitated morals.
I sucked on my bottom lip a while, came back and said, “How thirty sound?”
Thirty could help Momma and Rufus and still leave me in a position to get up on some property, at least a one-bedroom condo. I expected Lisa to balk, at least cock her head like the RCA Victor dog and make a Scooby-Doo sound. She didn’t blink twice. Maybe because what was a lot of money to me wasn’t a lot of money to her. My fortune was her chump change. Maybe because it wasn’t her money she was spending anyway. And I didn’t think she was serious, just angry and testing me. She had too much to lose.
She said, “In Egypt, back in the day, they used to consummate a deal with sex.”
She pulled her damp hair away from her face and took me in her mouth again. Did that until I got hard again. I didn’t get as hard as before. It felt good, but I didn’t bust a nut.
She made a sad face. “The pump’s still working, but the well is dry.”
“Pretty much.”
She kissed my dick like it was her prom date, pulled the covers back and we cuddled.
I yawned. “Let me rest about an hour and I’ll bounce. Cool?”
She was quiet for a moment, then she asked, “Want to drive his Lamborghini?”
I chuckled. “You serious?”
“Stay the night. In the morning you can follow me down to the quarter-mile track.”
I licked my lips, imagined being in that car. “What’s your time on the quarter-mile?”
“Eleven.” Her wide grin told me she was proud. “I have to trust myself and stop holding back on the curves. Pedal-to-the-metal on the straightaway.”
“I’ve never driven like that, not on a track, so I’d probably come in at eighteen.”
“Way too high.” She yawned and laughed at me. “You can do better.”
She got up and went to another part of the estate, came back with a McDonald’s bag. She dumped the contents on the bed. Stacks of twenties. It was a hellified Happy Meal. I sat up with a quickness, touched it. Put my hands all over that salvation. My heart sped up.
She took the money away, put it back in the McDonald’s bag, vanished into another room, then came back, money gone, her naked silhouette easing between the sheets again.
I asked, “How much was that?”
“Around fifteen large. Good faith money.”
The texture from that money had my fingers tingling.
I asked, “The other half as soon as it’s done?”
She nodded, her expression as dark as her intentions. I remembered looking around at all they owned and thinking I’d short-changed myself. Should’ve asked for forty. Maybe fifty.
We didn’t say anything else.
Then she smiled. “Forgot. I bought you a present.”
She hopped up and went downstairs, her feet moving pretty fast over the hardwood floor. She came back with a small bag. Clicked on a light again. The bag had a red bow on it.
Inside was a cellular phone. I didn’t have one. Needed one.
I asked, “What’s the occasion?”
“And I know this Asian guy downtown. He has suits for next-to-nothing. I ordered you a couple of Italian suits. Hope you don’t mind. All you have to do is go pick them up.”
I crawled on top of her. Kissed her. Eased deep inside another man’s wife.
She moaned. “I thought the well was dry.”
“The well might be dry, but the pump is still working.”
“Be rough with me. Take it. Choke me ... tighter. Oh ... like ... that ... I’m ... coming.”
By nine the next morning I had breakfast in bed. Lisa had ordered from one of the restaurants on Larchmont. She ordered every meal we ate. By noon we were down in El Toro, away from L.A., the heart of Orange County. We were out on an old abandoned military airport. The landing strips had been converted into a track. All morning she let me run the hell out of that Lamborghini, the ultimate phallic machine. Drove that bitch like she was my own.
Driving a man’s car. Swimming in a man’s pool. Fucking a man’s wife.
I started to want that kinda life. Started to believe I deserved it.
I’d been through enough bullshit in my life. I was tired. Yeah, I deserved it.
Things changed the night I went to kill Lisa’s husband.
“Jingle Bells” playing on the radio. Streets lit up. People waiting for Santa.
Gun resting in the small of my back.
What did we start