Page 9 of His Last Wife

Val watched, rolling her eyes as he pretended to throw the microphone to the floor and broke into a high impact running-man dance routine that sent the only bit of fabric covering his manhood—a cream towel—to the floor. This man was big and brown and had muscles everywhere. He either was an athlete at the moment or had been in the past. He had a name. Val didn’t know it.

Val sighed, but neither her clear displeasure nor his exposed, flopping genitals stopped her male companion’s entertainment. He kept jerking about all around the bedroom with his flaccid penis slapping against his legs and then hitting his stomach as he went along singing and dancing.

Just when Val was about to tell him to stop, he sang the chorus again: “Girl you know it’s true-ue-ue-ue, I love you!” then raised his hands over his head and took a bow.

“Thank you, ladies and g

entleman! I’m Ernest Hinds. I’m here every weekend! Come back and see me!” he said to his audience of one, who was not clapping or smiling.

“It’s time for you to leave,” Val snapped, standing and snatching the towel from the floor. “I put your clothes and shit beside the door.” She nodded toward the pile of wrinkled male clothing beside the bedroom door, before trying to head to the bathroom to put the towel into the dirty-clothes bin, but her guest interrupted her path.

“Leave? Why do you want me to leave?” He tried to reach for Val, but she pushed him away and went into the bathroom. “I thought we’d go get some breakfast. You know? Maybe talk.”

There was wicked laughter coming from the bathroom.

When Val returned in her robe, she looked at the naked dancer. Those athletic muscles really were everywhere, but Val wasn’t fazed. “Talk about what? Are you kidding?” She giggled.

“No. Why would I be kidding?”

“Because there’s nothing for us to talk about—not unless you’re referring to directions to the interstate.” Val headed to the pile of clothes.

“Damn, you’re cold. Ice cold.”

“You have no idea,” she said, tossing pieces of the clothing at her visitor one at a time.

The man caught his jeans and tossed them over his shoulder before sitting on the bed to put on his socks.

“I thought I did have an idea, but I guess I had the wrong idea,” he said dejectedly.

“Look . . . um . . . Ernest,” Val said vaguely. “I think we both had the same idea last night. And you were good—great—but now the sun is up and it’s time to go home. Right?” She smiled pleasantly but with an air of annoyance.

“Right.” He shook his head, bewildered, and continued to put on his clothing as Val watched and waited. “Guess you’re not a huge Milli Vanilli fan,” he joked to cut the ice from Val’s stare. “Most chicks really dig that dance routine too—especially when the towel falls off.” He stood to button his pants and looked into Val’s eyes. This was actually his second time sleeping with her. When he’d approached her at the bar last night, he hadn’t brought up the first time. He knew she’d hardly remember. Really, it was odd that he did. It had been more than ten years ago, when a summer night out in Atlanta meant flashing lights, white lines, stripper poles, and random sex. Back then, Val was just a club girl. A pretty face with a tight body in a crowd of so many others. He was still playing for the Falcons football team. Nothing big—just a benchwarmer. But he had a penthouse and a little red sports car. His cousin was in town visiting from North Carolina and Ernest figured he’d show him around. They went to Club Vision, a mega–hot spot on Peachtree, and met two girls in short spandex dresses and tall neon heels at the chic white bar in VIP. Between drinks, his cousin purposely let it slip that Ernest played for the NFL and the girls responded accordingly. With no prodding, they followed Ernest’s little red sports car back to the penthouse, jumped out of their clothes and into the rooftop hot tub, where Ernest had sex with one of the girls as his cousin kissed and fondled the other. Still, Ernest could feel the other girl’s eyes on him the entire time. Feeling weak and dizzy from the mixture of alcohol, cocaine, hot water, and sex, Ernest got out of the tub and went inside to cool off in the shower. While he’d left the hot tub party alone, after being in the shower for a few minutes, Ernest felt slender arms around his waist and soft lips kissing his spine. He assumed it was the girl he’d had sex with in the hot tub. “I’m good right now. I’ll catch you for round two in a minute,” he’d said flatly. He wasn’t really into the girl. She was cute but Ernest had always been pretty introspective, even about sleeping with groupies, and had decided that he’d only had sex with the girl in the hot tub to impress his cousin. “Round two?” he heard. He turned around and there was the other girl, the one who’d been watching him. “I’m waiting for round one.” Ernest laughed and looked out of the shower for his girl. “Are you crazy?” he asked. “What’s your friend going to say?” The girl rolled her eyes. “I ain’t worried about her. She knows how I roll—whatever Val wants, Val gets.” Then Ernest asked, “And who’s Val?” She responded in a way he’d never forget. She dropped to her knees and looked up at him ambitiously and sort of emptily. “I’m Val,” she said. “You’ll remember me.”

Ten years later, standing in Val’s bedroom, Ernest thought of how interesting it was that Val had been right back then. He didn’t forget her. But she’d forgotten him.

Val was about to respond to the comment about Milli Vanilli when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

“Sorry, I thought you were in the shower,” Lorna, the maid, said to Val. She was holding a fresh set of silk sheets in her hands. “I didn’t know you still had company.” She looked past Val and the nearly naked chocolate Ernest to the clock on the wall. This was routine.

“Actually, he was just leaving,” Val said, walking toward the bathroom. “Why don’t you show him out—the back way.” She stopped and looked over her shoulder in a way that let on that maybe she had remembered Ernest and that maybe this was just payback for the way things had ended after the scene in the shower. Ernest’s ego had led him back to the hot tub to have sex with the other girl again.

Lorna led Ernest out of the house and to his car in silence before returning to the master bedroom once again to change the sheets.

“Cutting it close now, huh?” she said to Val, who’d changed into the black-and-white tweed suit.

“What?” Val looked at Lorna with her normal disdain.

“You usually have them out of here before sunrise. Before she gets up,” Lorna replied, referring to Val’s mother, a new resident in the guest room down the hall.

“I couldn’t care less what she thinks about what I do,” Val said. “Not you, not her, not the people in this fucking neighborhood. No one.” She looked at the bed where Lorna was changing the red sheets. “I stopped caring about shit like that a long time ago.”

When Val had decided to move into the house three months ago—a week after Jamison’s funeral—she insisted on removing two things: the mattress in the master bedroom and any pictures of Jamison’s mother anywhere in the house.

The mattress had to go because that was where her baby died inside of her. The pictures of Mrs. Dorothy Taylor had to go because that was who had caused it all.

“Fine,” Lorna said, replacing a pillowcase. “No law saying you have to care about what people think. I just thought you wouldn’t want your mother knowing what all goes on in here, every night.” Lorna’s tone was meant to reveal a mere observation, but there was clear judgment involved.

Val ignored it. Lorna had been Jamison’s maid. The two women hardly liked each other even then. “Is Mama Fee awake?” she asked.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com