24
Sheila sat in the back of the Know Bookstore restaurant sipping on a Coke. She looked up as Victor walked toward her, offering up a smile to the man who didn’t belong to her but for whom she would walk naked through the city to be with. He wore a green trenchcoat and walked with a purpose.
“You got it?” were the first words out of his mouth.
“As you asked,” Sheila said, the smile fading from her face.
“What you having?” the waitress asked, giving Victor one of her best flirtatious smiles.
“Same thing as the young lady,” Victor said, pointing at Sheila’s drink.
“All right, one Coke coming up. If you want any food, let me know.”
“Thanks, but I won’t be here that long.”
“I thought that since we were out, we could make a night of it,” Sheila said, trying to interject a little more pep in her unhappy demeanor.
“Not tonight, Sheila. Some other time. I’ve got to take care of this matter first.”
“One Coke for the gentleman,” the waitress said, setting the glass on the table.
Victor slipped the waitress a ten-dollar bill. She smiled and slithered away.
“So, I do you a favor and you toss me out like yesterday’s trash.”
“Come on, Sheila. It’s not like that. Look, I’m sitting here sipping this Coke with you.”
“You’re not funny, Victor.” Sheila sat and stared at him between sips.
“Stop!” Victor said abruptly, wishing he hadn’t been so loud. “Put your foot on the floor,” he whispered.
“You’ve never protested before.”
“I don’t know how many ways I can say this, but tonight is not the time. I’ve got to go.” Victor reached in his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Get yourself another Coke if you like. I’m out.”
“What are you going to do with the gun?”
VICTOR FLEW OUT OF THE BOOKSTORE AND FLED INTO THE NIGHT. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the gun. He had bought the small, twenty-two-caliber handgun for Sheila some time ago because she said she needed protection, but now he needed protection from his past. The images he saw in his head made him crazy. He’d never given a thought to killing anyone before and wasn’t sure he could do it now, although the voices in his head tossed out commands and implored him to take action immediately to rid himself of the stress that had ravaged his body.
He jumped in his Mercedes and drove around, contemplating his next move. If he killed Mimi, he would be the obvious suspect and Brenda would do the accusing. If something happened to Afrika, he’d still be the suspect because Mimi would do the accusing. Besides, all that he’d work for would go up in smoke because he’d be behind steel bars before the first forty-eight hours passed after committing this premeditated crime. God, he had to stop watching so much television.
Victor felt the gun in the depths of his coat pocket. Perspiration formed on his forehead as he battled with the voices in his head. Maybe he needed to sleep on it…get a clear vision about what he should do. That was it. He’d go home, although he was not up to listening to Brenda’s rants about her need to see Mimi.
Mimi, Mimi, Mimi. She bore a daughter, and he was the father. It was so long ago. Surely Brenda would forgive him. Maybe he would tell her that Mimi had forced herself on him, and he had only taken advantage of her because Mimi wanted him to. Yes, that’s what he’d tell Brenda. She would forgive him, and embarrassment would send Mimi and Afrika packing. But no, Mimi would tell Brenda that he had raped her.…that he had acted like an animal and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He couldn’t risk it. Could he? No, Mimi had to be eliminated.
The car moved smoothly through the night. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to kick it with Sheila tonight, but she probably was in a bad funk because he left her alone nursing her drink. Victor saw an ABC Liquor Store ahead and pulled into the parking lot upon approach. He’d let Jack Daniels help him out. Yeah, he was a coward, but he was a coward that needed a little help. He dialed Sheila’s cell number anyway, and she answered on the first ring.
“Sheila,” he whispered. “Sorry for running out on you like that. I was a little uptight, but now I seem to be rational.”
“What did you do, Victor? You…you didn’t use…you know?”
“No, I didn’t use it; at least not yet.”
“You need some company?”
“Why don’t I meet you at your place?”
“You mean our place?”
“Your place, our place. Yes, our place.”
“Come on by, baby. I’m halfway there. Let Momma give you what you need.”
“Sheila, I need the works. Don’t skimp. And pull out a bottle of Dom Perignon.”
“Okay, baby. I’ll be waiting. Smooches.”
Victor felt the gun in his pocket. He decided against getting a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and headed to the other side of town. Sheila would smooth all the ruffled spots on his body and give him the best massage money could buy, allowing him time to come up with a foolproof plan.