36
Restless, Victor got up from the couch and began to pace the room. Fear replaced the inner confidence he had exuded earlier in the day when he left home with a gun in his pocket to do bodily harm. It was like coming off of a high and the realization of what he’d done suddenly hit him full force. Victor stood still as the voice floated through his brain—you’re a fool. Your secret was already exposed. You didn’t have to kill.
But Victor hadn’t killed anyone. Thank God for that. He needed some fresh air to sort out the mess he’d made. He put on his trenchcoat and touched his pocket to make sure the gun was still there. He needed to get rid of it.
“Trevor, I’m going out for a while.” Victor looked at his watch. “It’s getting late, going on seven o’clock. Tell your mother whenever she comes in, I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah,” Trevor said from the kitchen. “You taking your gun?”
Victor walked into the kitchen where Trevor was stuffing his face full of microwave pizza. “You aren’t to mention that gun again. Your mother would be hysterical if she knew I had it.”
Trevor looked at Victor thoughtfully. “So why do you have one?”
“Boy, eat your pizza.”
Victor slipped through the door that led into the garage and was on his way.
WITH REMOTE HELD STRAIGHT OUT, TREVOR SURFED THE CHANNELS with one hand and stuffed pizza into his mouth with the other. He finally had the house to himself, and he lay across the couch with his sneakers on like he was king of the castle. Even Beyonce gave him a disapproving look when she strolled into the room.
A knock at the front door startled Trevor. It was faint, but he heard it. He put the small amount of pizza that remained in his hand on the pizza box and got up to answer the door. Two medium-build, tall-to-medium height gentlemen in business suits, one black and one white, stood at the door. They sized Trevor up.
“May I speak with Mr. Victor Christianson, please,” the black man said, flashing his badge and hastily putting it away.
“I didn’t see your badge,” Trevor said. “Can’t be too careful.”
The man was not amused. He flipped it out again.
“Detective Ernest Marshall,” Trevor said with a smirk on his face. “And you are…”
“Detective Bryan Samuels,” the other detective said, flashing his badge.
Detective Marshall snapped the lid shut with a thud in an attempt to irritate Trevor.
“Well, you just missed him.”
“Do you know where he went?” Detective Marshall asked.
“I don’t know. He said he would be back later on. He’s only been gone fifteen minutes.”
The two detectives looked between each other. “Do you mind if we sit and wait for him?” Detective Samuels asked.
“Yes, I mind. My parents don’t allow me to have company when they aren’t here.”
“Smart boy,” Marshall whispered under his breath. “All right, kid. Let your dad know we came by to speak with him. I’m Marshall and my partner’s name is Samuels.”
“I saw your badges and I remembered your names. May I tell him why you wanted to speak to him?”
“No, just tell him we need to speak to him soon,” Samuels said. “Thank you and good evening.”
Trevor watched the detectives retreat to their car. Wheels began to turn in his head. Did the detectives’ appearance have something to do with the gun Victor had on him? Trevor went back into the kitchen and picked up his cell from the table. He dialed his mother’s number, but there was no answer.
Victor found his way to Sheila’s—the condo he had provided for their occasional sexual rendezvous. He needed to expend some energy…have some rough and playful sex to send the tension that racked his body to the other side of the globe. He climbed the stairs and lay on the doorbell when the master key refused to give him entrance.
“Sheila!” Victor shouted, and then quieted when Sheila came to the door.
“Why is the freaking key not working in the door?”
“Victor, you can’t just walk up in here anytime you get good and ready. A girl has to protect herself, and anyway, there’s some kind of crazy running around. You heard what happened at Central today?”
“Yeah, I did. Now are you going to let me in? I don’t understand why I’m still standing on the porch of my condo.”
“Victor, tonight isn’t a good time. I’m feeling a little under the weather.”
Victor pushed the door in and stood in front of Sheila. He slammed the door shut and followed Sheila into the living room that reminded one of an African paradise. The walls were painted tangerine with curtains made of a Kente cloth in colors of black, white, tangerine and lime. African masks and wood carvings littered the room tastefully, and throughout the room were yellow, orange and green candles in various sizes in specially picked candle-holders.
“So what are you doing with this lacey number on, barely covering your ass and titties? I know you don’t have anyone else up in my house.”
Sheila’s voice shook. “No, Victor, there’s no one here. I don’t feel so well. I might have a touch of the flu. I was preparing to lie down right before you showed up at the door.”
Breathing hard, Victor swooped down on Sheila and grabbed her by the shoulders. He began to kiss her neck. “I need you, Sheila. God, you smell good.”
“Uhh, Victor.” Sheila stood afraid to move.
Victor took off his coat and threw it on the arm of the overstuffed green chair that sat next to the plush green sofa. He pulled Sheila to him and eased her on the sofa and began to kiss her passionately on the lips and all over her neck, intoxicated with her scent. He slipped his fingers under her bra strap and pulled it down, exposing her breasts; her nipples extended at attention. He kissed them like a hungry man who had been deprived of food, savoring the taste to the very last drop. Then Victor lifted himself to get a better look. He knelt over Sheila and kissed her stomach, sliding his hands over her, exploring every nook and cranny, feeling her smooth and supple skin before finally lifting the sides of her panties so he could continue his pleasure.
Sheila placed her hands on top of Victor’s. “I don’t feel good, Victor. My stomach is rumbling and if I don’t get up, I might throw up.” Sheila grabbed her stomach. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”
Victor looked at her. “Damn, girl, I was almost there. Now, I’ve got to find some other way to get rid of this hard-on. You arouse me to no end, Sheila, with that fine body of yours.”
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”
Victor rolled his body to the side and let Sheila up as she fled to the bathroom. On her way in, she reached for her cell phone. Once in the bathroom, she sent a text and heaved a sigh of relief when she received a reply. She made an awful noise like she was throwing up, flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and went back to the living room to face Victor.
“Baby, let’s call it a night,” Sheila said, using every bit of tact to get rid of him.
“I know you don’t feel good. Why don’t you let me lie with you for a while? I won’t try anything.”
Sheila sighed. “Victor, all I want to do is go to sleep.”
“Just a few minutes,” Victor begged.
Victor laced his arms around Sheila’s belly as he held her close, bunched up on the sofa. Sheila’s face was twisted in a nasty scowl. She lay like a limp doll in Victor’s arms, but sat up at the abrupt ringing of the phone.
Victor pulled out his BlackBerry and saw that Trevor was calling. He started to ignore it but pushed the green icon and spoke into the phone. “What is it, Trevor?”
“Dad, some guys…detectives, came to the house looking for you.”
Victor pushed Sheila aside and brought both feet to the floor. “What did they want?”
“They wanted to talk to you. They wouldn’t say what it was about. They asked if they could sit until you returned, but I told them no.”
“Good. Did you get their names? Maybe I’ll try and contact them.”
“The black dude’s name was Ernest Marshall and the white dude’s name was Bryan Samuels.”
“Thanks.”
Victor ended the call. “Look, Sheila. I’ve got to run. My son called. Some old friends of mine got into town and are trying to catch up with me. Another day. I hope you feel better.”
“You do care.”
“Yeah.” Victor paused, reached in his pocket, and pulled out the gun. “Look, you can put this away. I don’t need it. I’ve changed my mind about what I was going to do with it.”
Sheila looked at him strange. “A few days ago you acted like your world was about to cave in and you had to teach somebody a lesson. Give it here; I’ll put it away. Thanks for understanding, Victor. I’m going to crawl in bed as soon as I close the door.”
“Yeah.” He reached down and kissed Sheila lightly on the lips. “I’m out.”