A tall, muscular man with shoulder-length dreads filled the doorway of 710 Highland Road. His stony expression remained unchanged until Charles and Terri moved closer to the porch light’s dim glow. Only then did the door swing open wide enough to allow the group to slide through.
“Hey, I don’t think I know those two,” the man nodded toward the couple following Charles and Terri into the house.
“Cedric, these are our friends, Earl and Sandy,” Terri said. “Ola said it would be okay to bring them to the party.”
Cedric’s face relaxed into a smile. He shook Earl’s hand, then led the group through a room where strawberry incense failed to mask the faint odor of marijuana. Several people sat at two flimsy card tables playing dominoes. Observers stood around the tables instigating playful rivalries or simply nodding to the music. The resounding slap of dominoes hitting the tables frequently punctuated the players’ banter. Earl noticed a slender Black woman heading in their direction. Terri greeted her with a hug.
“Ola, this is Sandy and Earl,” Terri said. “The friends I told you about.”
Ola acknowledged Earl and Sandy with a nod, then glanced at Terri before fishing a joint out of her shirt pocket. She lit one end and exhaled a stream of smoke toward Earl.
“Well, he’s a tall one,” she said and handed the joint to Terri. “How tall are you, baby?”
“So, do you," Ola began.
“No, I don’t play basketball.”
“Basketball, honey? I was going to ask you if you wanted to try some of that before Terri smoked it all up,” Ola said with a smile, nodding toward the marijuana cigarette dangling from Terri’s hand. “Y’all make yourselves at home. If you want something to eat or drink, there’s plenty in the kitchen. Cedric, you takin’ them downstairs?”
“Somebody mention food?” Earl asked, handing the smoldering joint to Charles.
“C’mon,” Ola motioned for Earl to follow her. The rest of the group followed Cedric. In the more revealing light of the kitchen, Earl saw one table covered with bottles of liquor and wine. Platters of fried chicken, cold cuts, and assorted salads covered another. He helped himself some of the chicken wings, potato salad and a closer look at Ola. She was an attractive Black woman, about five-two or five-three. A leather hair band pulled her shoulder-length dreads into a ponytail, revealing a smooth, nut-brown complexion. Their brief conversation had already exposed her Caribbean roots.
“So, how long have you known Charles and Terri?” Ola asked.
“Couple of years,” Earl said. He could tell she knew he had been watching her. “Charles and I work for the same company.”
“You guys party a lot?”
“Who? Charles and me? Naw, just a couple of beers after work now and then. I just met his wife, Terri, tonight.”
“I see,” Ola said, while carefully smoothing a crumpled sheet of aluminum foil over the bowl of potato salad.v
“Something wrong?”
“No, just curious. You two seem—well, different.”
“You mean, because he’s white?”
“No, not that,” Ola’s eyes widened slightly, “just different.”
Earl took another bite of spicy chicken before tossing his empty plate into a nearby trash can.
“So, which way to the party?” he asked.
Ola’s eyes lingered on him for a moment before she turned toward the kitchen door. Near the bottom of the basement stairs, a man nodded while fingering the controls of a small mixing board. The crowded dance floor seemed to pulsate with the music’s beat. Ola tugged Earl’s arm, and a moment later, they were standing in front of a table where Terri sat.
“Hey, handsome,” Terri said. “I was wondering what happened to you and Ola.”
“So, where’s Sandy and Charles?” Ola asked, glancing at Terri and then toward the dance floor.
“Out there somewhere,” Terri shrugged, then looked at Earl. “She’s dancing with Charles.”
Earl slid into a chair and allowed his eyes to adjust to the basement’s subdued lighting. He searched the crowded dance floor and returned his attention to the table just in time to catch a glimpse of Ola as she disappeared into the crowd.
“So, Earl,” Terri paused. “You want to dance?”
“Naw, I’m cool,” Earl said, trying not to stare into the woman’s attentive blue eyes. He decided she was prettier in person than in the pictures Charles shoved at him almost every other day at work. She looked to be in her early to mid-thirties, shapely, with shoulder-length blond hair. Each time Earl glanced in her direction, she smiled.
“You need to loosen up, baby,” Terri said, smiling again. “I really would like to dance.”
“I was waiting for Sandy to . . .”
“To what? Give you permission or something? I told you she’s dancing with Charles. C’mon, we might even bump into them on the dance floor.”
They squeezed onto the crowded dance floor. Earl rocked slowly from side to side, quickly becoming captivated by Terri’s slow, provocative gyrations—until a shriek from the dance floor finally broke her spell. When Earl spun away from Terri, he found himself dancing face-to-face with Sandy.
“Having fun?” she smiled.
“Fun?” Earl repeated. “Oh, yeah. How ‘bout you?”
Instead of answering, Sandy moved closer. The black mini she wore stretched against her slow pelvic grind. A glimmer of perspiration dampened her pecan-brown skin. Behind him, Earl felt Terri’s hand on his hip—gently at first, then more firmly as the weight of her body pressed against him. Sandwiched between the two women, Earl tried to convince himself that the excitement he felt was only because of Sandy.
When the music changed tempo, Earl followed the women to the table where Charles sat. The opened buttons on Charles’s shirt revealed several gold chains. His once neatly combed blond hair, now disheveled from dancing, gave him a reckless appearance. He sipped from one of two beer bottles that sat in front of him.
“Everybody doing okay?” Charles asked when the trio was close enough to hear.
“Yeah, party’s nice,” Earl said and dropped into the chair next to Charles.
“Hey, you two, we’re going to the little girls’ room,” Terri winked at Charles and giggled as she led Sandy away.
“Now, there go two fine ladies,” Charles slurred, turning towards Earl as the women disappeared into the crowd. He tapped a cigarette from a pack of Newport Lights, lit it, and forcefully exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I really like Sandy. You’re a lucky man. She’s real nice. Fine as hell too.”
“What?” Earl leaned towards Charles, trying to hear over the music’s pounding beat.
“I was just saying how fine a lady you have. Speaking of which,” Charles slid closer. “How’d you like Terri? She liked you immediately, you know. I told her she would.”
“Oh, she’s nice,” Earl responded carefully.
“Just nice? C’mon, Earl. I saw you on the dance floor,” Charles winked. “You two do look good together.”
“Well, she’s a good dancer,” Earl said. He puzzled over Charles’s comment for a moment before shifting his gaze toward the dance floor.
“Look, man. All I’m saying is, well, you know, some things are okay between consenting adults,” Charles paused. “I was watching how good you and Terri looked together on the dance floor. You see, I’m not jealous. We . . .”
“I’m not sure I’m following you, Charles,” Earl interrupted.
“We, Terri and me, like to spice things up. You know what I mean?” Charles paused. “All I’m saying is if you like Terri and were interested - maybe Sandy will be too. You know, just to spice things up a little.”
“Interested in what, Charles?” Earl asked but could tell he no longer had Charles’s attention.
“So, how you boys making out?”
Earl turned around to see Sandy and Terri approaching the table. Both women were smiling as though they’d known each other for years instead of hours.
“We’re just talking,” Charles said, flashing an easy grin.
“I think I’m ready to get out of here,” Earl said, standing up.
The women’s faces showed their disappointment. Terri slid into a chair next to Charles and the two began whispering. Sandy turned towards Earl, her expression softer now.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“Just a headache,” he said and tried to avoid Sandy’s moist eyes.
“Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” she lowered her voice. “We just got here.”
“I’m sorry, San. We’ll do it again some other time,” he said and stood.
Terri hugged Sandy and Earl allowed Charles a limp handshake. Charles tightened his grip and leaned toward Earl.
“We alright, man?” he asked barely above a whisper.
Earl hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, we’re alright.”
He grabbed Sandy’s arm and headed toward the basement stairs. They had nearly reached the front door when Ola intercepted them.
“Leaving already?”
“Earl’s not feeling well.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s going to be just fine,” Ola said.
Earl noticed a barely perceptible smile crease Ola’s lips before she opened the door to let them out.
* * *
It was two weeks later that Earl, sitting at his desk, recalled Ola’s smile. He’d never told Sandy about the uneasy feeling that the conversation with Charles had caused and she never questioned his story about having a headache. Besides, the abrupt departure from the party had not been enough to discourage a friendship from growing between Sandy and Terri. His friendship with Charles was a different matter. Since the party, he’d limited their conversations to only as much as their work together required.
He glanced at his calendar again and then at his boss, Larry Goldstein. Larry had stopped in the office to discuss a stack of project files belonging to Debra Langhorne. She had begun maternity leave earlier than expected and all of her projects were being doled out amongst I-Soft’s remaining technical writing staff.
“I don’t know, Larry, I’m already working on two extra projects,” Earl said. He scanned his calendar again. “I don’t see how I can fit in two more before the end of August.”
“I know you’re maxed out, Earl. So’s everyone else,” Larry tossed two of the manila folders on Earl’s desk. “Just take a look at these and let me know what you can do.”
Earl looked up from the folders in time to notice Charles peeping through the window. When they made eye contact, Charles waved. Earl nodded in acknowledgement before turning towards Larry.
“That Charles is a good man, isn’t he?” Larry glanced towards the window and waved back at Charles.
“Yes, he is,” Earl said slowly.
“You know he’s volunteered to help you out on these,” Larry said and shuffled a folder to the top of the stack before standing. “I’m sure once you two put your heads together we can finish the Paragon and Merritt Corp projects by next week.”
Earl flipped through the folders again before following Larry to the door and closing it behind him. He snapped the window blinds shut and dropped into his chair. Earl stared at the calendar for a moment before his thoughts drifted back to why he was thinking about Ola. Sandy had accepted a dinner invitation at Charles and Terri’s home for next Friday. Now, with the necessity to collaborate with Charles on Debra Langhorne’s projects, it had become difficult to heed the voice that said not to accept the dinner invitation because it was in debate with one that said he should.
* * *
It was about seven o’clock on Friday evening when their Toyota Camry rolled to a stop in front of a two-story brick house at 1225 Hillside Drive. Red, yellow, and orange zinnias growing abundantly in neatly edged beds enhanced the house’s charm. Terri greeted them at the front door. The women hugged, and Earl handed Terri the bottle of merlot he was carrying.
On the way to the living room, Earl noticed a cloud of smoke rising from a grill on the patio as Charles opened the hood. A pang of uneasiness stopped him from joining Charles. Instead, he followed the sound of Kenny G into the living room, where he remained until dinner. Conversation during the meal was at first slow, deliberate, and mostly about Terri’s recipe for sourdough bread. But by the time everyone had finished eating, they were chattering like old friends.
“Yeah, man, thanks again for helping with those projects. I wouldn’t have gotten them all done by myself,” Earl said. He took two quick puffs on the joint Terri had passed to him, then handed it to Charles.
“No problem,” Charles said. He sucked on the joint and ground the roach into the ashtray. “You know I’ve got your back, partner.”
“Hey, guys, I have an idea,” Terri said suddenly, slapping a palm on the table. “Let’s play a game.”
“A card game?” Earl asked looking at the faces around the table.
“No, not a card game,” Terri sing-songed as she smiled. “It’s called Scruples.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of Scruples,” Sandy said. “Each player is put into an ethical situation, and the other players ask them questions. Everyone votes on whether or not they believe the person is answering truthfully. Earl, we played Scruples a long time ago at one of your friend’s houses. You know, what’s his name?”
Earl shrugged. He remembered the game all right. They’d played a few years ago with their friends Robert and Sheila. Robert had gotten so pissed that they’d never finished the game.
“Honey, can you get Scruples?” Terri turned to Charles, who struggled to stand. “I think it’s in the upstairs hall closet.”
“Anybody besides me ready for a refill?” Charles slurred.
“I’ll take another glass when I get back. Gotta use the little girl’s room,” Sandy said as she stood and made her way to the door.
Terri held a smoldering joint out to Earl as Charles and Sandy left the room. He drew deeply on the joint before passing it back to Terri.
“How about a shotgun, honey?” she asked, smiling, and before Earl could answer, he was accepting the harsh smoke into his mouth. Terri put the joint in the ashtray and leaned toward him again. Her lips pressed hard against his. Earl tasted a mixture of marijuana and perfume as Terri’s tongue entwined with his. He stared into her eyes as she sank back into her chair.
“Hey, I found the game,” Charles said as he entered the room with the box containing the Scruples game in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Earl slowly rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. Terri opened the game and began sorting the cards.
“Girlfriend, you really hooked that bathroom up,” Sandy said as she entered the room. She looked towards Earl.
“Baby, you should see upstairs. It’s so . . . so . . .”
“Sexy,” Terri said, allowing her gaze to linger on Earl before handing him the stack of cards. “You’re the dealer. Everybody gets five Dilemma Cards and five Reply Cards.”
Terri explained the rules for Scruples while Earl dealt the cards were. Players could use Yes, No, and Depends Reply Cards when asked a question. Their answer would stand unless challenged by the other players. The first person who successfully used all of their Reply Cards won the game. Terri volunteered to assign the first dilemma and chose a card from her stack.
“Let’s see . . ., hmmm . . ., yeah, this is a good one,” she peeked over her cards at Sandy, “During a dinner party, a guest compliments you on dessert and asks for the recipe. You purchased dessert from the local bakery. Do you tell them the truth?”
“Of course I’d tell the truth,” Sandy replied while turning over a Yes Card. “Why would I lie about having a recipe?” Charles and Terri snickered.“What’s so funny?”
“I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you about the sourdough bread we had with dinner,” Terri said, snickering again. “Well, when you two asked for my recipe I neglected to tell you we actually bought it from the store yesterday. I was going to tell you eventually—but when you started with all of the complements I figured I’d just wait.”
Everybody laughed. No one challenged Sandy’s answer, and the game continued. Charles asked the next question, then Sandy, then Earl. Once everyone had asked their first question, play returned to Terri.
“Okay, this one’s for you,” Terri said, peeking over her cards at Earl. “You and your spouse are invited to play cards at another couple’s home. After a few hands of gin rummy and a few drinks, a new game is suggested—strip poker. Do you play?”
Earl glanced around the table. Terri’s fingernails drummed on the remaining Dilemma cards in front of her.
“Well?” she asked continuing to tap on the cards.
“Wait a minute,” Earl finally blurted. He looked at Sandy. “It depends.”
“On what?” Terri asked. “Why not yes or no?”
“I mean it would, I guess, I mean,” Earl stammered. “Look, why don’t I just play my Depends Card?”
“Yes, dear, but on exactly what would it depend?” Terri pressed. “I think I want to challenge your answer.”
Everyone voted, and the challenge ended in an answer of no. Charles asked Sandy the next question. Everyone discussed her answer—everyone except Earl. He continued thinking about Terri’s question and the lingering taste of perfume in his mouth. After playing the last Dilemma Card, the group moved to the living room to watch a movie. By then, the evening had taken its toll, and the last thing Earl remembered was the movie credits scrolling up the screen.
When he awoke, the room was dark. Earl couldn’t remember falling asleep. He felt Sandy lying next to him and struggled to remember the ride home. The feeling of confusion lessened once he felt her hand move across his thigh. He relaxed and allowed her to free his erection from the confines of his BVDs. The velvety smoothness of her tongue caused his semi-erect penis to become immediately engorged. Earl squeezed his eyes shut. He writhed and moaned as she consumed his full length and girth. When he arched his back, she did not surrender his penis and allowed him to release its warm, sticky liquid.
He remained motionless, enjoying the moist trail her tongue made across his stomach and chest. In the darkness, she found his nipples and nuzzled him under the neck with soft, wet kisses. Earl fought against the urge to ejaculate again as she closed down around his manhood. His fingers dug into the firm roundness of her ass and he controlled her hard, steady rhythm. The smell of sex soon filled Earl’s nostrils. As the low moans became an outburst of euphoria, a familiar voice echoed in the darkness.
“What the fuck?” Earl stopped—jerked away from the shadowy figure. “Terri?”
“What, what’s wrong, baby? Everything’s okay.”
“What are you talking about? Everything’s not okay. I thought you were—where’s Sandy?”
“Calm down, baby. I said everything’s okay. Didn’t I? Charles . . .”
“Charles,” Earl repeated, tugging on his pants as he slipped into his sandals. A feeling of dread tightened his chest. “I said, where’s Sandy, goddammit?”
“C’mon, Earl, why don’t you relax, baby?
“Relax,” Earl repeated. He took several steps toward Terri.
“Sandy said she was gonna tell you about . . .”
“Where is she?” Earl demanded, his hands tightening into fists.
“Upstairs, Earl,” Terri’s tone became desperate. “Please don’t do anything crazy. Charles thinks it’s okay with you. Sandy. . .”
Earl didn’t wait to hear the rest. He bolted towards the stairs, heart pounding as he made his way down the dark hallway. A barely audible moan led him to a door left slightly ajar. Sandy sat on a bed with her back toward him. A white sheet barely concealed the slow rise and fall of her body. Earl watched as a pale pair of hands travel slowly up Sandy’s back until the fingers tightened around her waist. A spasmodic grunt came from somewhere beneath her. Sandy collapsed onto the bed, then rolled onto her side, yanking the sheet across her body. She turned toward the door.
“Who’s there?” she whispered. “Is that you Terri?”
Earl remained frozen by the anger that, only a moment before, enraged him. He knew somebody would die if he acted instinctively. Instead, Earl turned, ran—down the stairs, through the front door, into darkness.
* * *
The rumor mill produced several versions regarding why Charles left I-Soft. The only thing that mattered to Earl was that Charles was gone. With him out of the picture, work had become a refuge. He stayed late, sometimes past midnight. Late nights kept him from remembering. The more miserable he felt, the more productive he became. Besides, most of the time when he returned home, Sandy was at the Richmond Juvenile Detention Center, where she worked. She’d begun counseling at-risk youths after regular office hours, and when she wasn’t counseling, said she was working late to catch up on the center’s abundant case files.
It was on one of those evenings that Earl found himself parked outside the detention center. He’d called Sandy, but the switchboard had already shut down, and she hadn’t answered her cell phone. The courage that had taken weeks to build vanished as he watched Sandy toss an overnight bag into her car and drive away. For the first mile, guilt gnawed at him as he followed her Camry’s taillights through the late-evening traffic. But anxiety was soon replaced with anger when she stopped on Hillside Drive. Sandy stepped out, grabbed the overnight bag and disappeared inside. The truth moistened his eyes as he pulled away from the curb and drove home.
Several hours later, Earl lay in bed, waiting. He heard a key in the door. He imagined Sandy making her way through the dark house. When she entered the bedroom, the spicy sweetness of freshly sprayed perfume filled the air. He could hear the rustle of fabric as she undressed.
“How’d it go?” Earl asked, pulling the sheet over his face just enough to hide his suspicion.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Sandy didn’t turn to face him. “I got so wrapped up in the paperwork for tomorrow’s hearing. I did tell you about the hearing at nine, didn’t I?”
“Did you get something to eat?” Earl asked, ignoring her question. He lowered the sheet slightly and watched as she stripped down to her bra and panties. Earl struggled to suppress the mixture of anger and arousal he felt as he studied Sandy’s sleek, pecan-brown contours. She slipped into silky pink pajamas and matching flop-flops. The pink flip-flops, a Christmas gift from him a few years ago, triggered a pang of nostalgia.
“I, uh, grabbed something on the way home,” she said and walked toward the bathroom.
Earl pulled the sheet over his head and tried to block out the sound of the shower. A moment later, he felt the warmth and weight of Sandy’s body as she slid into bed beside him.
“You asleep?” she asked.
The feeling of disgust prevented him from responding.
* * *
Earl twisted the cap off the bottle of Tanqueray then swirled the clear liquid in the glass before taking a sip. He chuckled to himself and scraped a small mound of white powder into two jagged lines before snorting it. Once Earl felt the drug’s calming effect, he dialed the phone.
“Hello,” Charles answered.
Earl listened without responding.
“Hello?” Charles repeated, then paused. “Who is this?”
Earl let the phone fall back onto its cradle. He stared at Sandy’s picture for a moment before removing a green canvas bag from the chest of drawers. He pulled the zipper, removed the stainless steel revolver, and pushed six bullets into the gun’s empty chambers. Earl drained the remaining liquor from the glass, picked up his car keys, and stumbled towards the front door.
Charles greeted Earl with a yawn as he opened the front door of 1225 Hillside Drive.
“Earl, c’mon in, man. Long time, no see,” he said, extending his hand.
Earl ignored the man’s greeting and staggered into the living room.
“Gonna be short and sweet, man,” Earl slurred. He rocked back slightly before steadying himself. “Shit’s gotta stop.”
“What shit you talking about, man?” Charles stepped backward, allowing some space between himself and Earl.
“So, now I’m supposed to be stupid, huh, Charles? You must think I’m one dumb motherfucker. Don’t you?”
“What you talking about, Earl?”
“Motherfucker, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Look, I—,” Charles began.
“I’m talking about my wife, Sandy,” Earl snapped. He stepped closer to Charles. “I know she’s been here to see you.”
“Sandy, Earl? I haven’t seen Sandy since . . .,’ Charles’s words trailed off.
“Can’t believe you gonna stand there and deny the shit. I followed her here the other night. All I’m saying is the shit’s gotta stop, or they’ll be trouble.”
“Trouble? Look, man, I’ve got my own problems. If something’s going on between you and Sandy, you guys need to work it out. I . . .”
Earl’s punch knocked Charles onto the sofa. Blood trickled from Charles’s mouth, and his lower lip began to swell.
“What’d you do that for, Earl? I haven’t seen your goddamn wife,” Charles screamed.
“Don’t keep lying, motherfucker. You think I’m crazy?”
“I’m telling you the truth, Earl,” Charles struggled to his feet. “I understand if you’re upset. I fucked up. But it was a mistake. I was drunk, really drunk. Sandy, she . . .”
Earl swung again, but Charles side-stepped. The swing’s momentum caused Earl to stumble into the living room wall. A sharp pain in his lower back reminded him of the revolver resting against his spine.
“What the fuck is that?” Earl screamed, pushing himself away from the wall. Both men stared at a pink flip-flop, partially hidden under the sofa. Earl picked up the shoe and dangled it in front of Charles.
“A shoe, Earl. A flip-flop, probably Terri’s. She—”
“Bullshit, Charles,” Earl snapped. “This is Sandy’s.”
“You’re insane, man,” Charles screamed, “and you’re leaving my fuckin’ house right now.”
“Not until you get the fuck out of my life,” Earl screamed.
He pulled the pistol from the small of his back and pointed it at Charles. At the same time, Charles reached into the drawer of an end table, pulled out a pistol, and pointed it at Earl.
“I said get the fuck out,” Charles screamed again.
Earl heard the pop of Charles’s pistol firing at the same time he felt the recoil from his own. A burning sensation radiated in his chest as he watched Charles stumble backward over the sofa. Earl stared at Charles’s motionless form until his vision became too blurred to see. The ensuing pain and distant sound of sirens soon faded into an engulfing darkness.
* * *
In a café not far from 1225 Hillside Drive, two attractive women sat in their favorite booth. The booth allowed an unobstructed view of the café’s entrance while affording them privacy from the other customers. A waiter cheerfully greeted the women by their first names as he placed menus in front of them.
“Terri, I don’t know how long I can keep this up.”
“Now, Sandy, we’ve talked about this hundreds of times,” Terri reached across the table and gave Sandy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “When the time is right, we’ll let them know.”
“But all this sneaking around . . .” Sandy paused and pulled her hand from under the other woman’s. “I think Earl’s beginning to suspect something.”
“Has he said anything?”
“Nothing specific, I think we’ve been pretty good about covering our tracks—especially after the sleepover.”
“Humph. if you ask me, the sleepover was a good idea. At least it got both dogs sniffing up the wrong tree.”
“I know you’re right, but . . .”
“But, what? Why say anything?”
“I guess I feel like I owe him some sort of explanation.”
Terri shrugged her shoulders, “Honey, you know what they say, don’t you? What they don’t know can’t hurt them.”
Sandy nodded her head in agreement and looked through the café’s plate glass window into the busy street. A distant siren’s wail quickly became lost in the traffic sounds outside. She picked up the menu as Terri slid closer.
“So, what’re you having?”
“I don’t know. What looks good to you?”
“Baby, you know what looks good to me, and it’s not on that menu.”
Sandy closed her menu and placed it on the table. She leaned toward Terri. Their lips touched gently at first, then hungrily as their tongues entwined. They stared into each other’s eyes until Terri picked up the menu and flipped to the lunchtime specials.
“So, are we still on for tonight?” asked Sandy. “Same time, same place?”
“Sure,” Terri smiled. “Same time, same place.”
The End