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I took one last look at Qianna before heading for the door. I left the apartment and walked toward the elevator. I was outside of the building and walking to my car, before I truly allowed myself to think. Think about what I was doing. I was talking about killing my wife—killing Taye.
On the way home, the car seemed to drive itself. One thought rolled around in my mind. I had just told Qianna that I would pay her to kill Taye.
It’s not like this was the first time I’d thought about it. And each time I thought about it two things would end the discussion: one, I didn’t think I could do it, and two, even if I could do it, I didn’t think I could get away with it. I knew that I would be the first person that they would suspect. Spending the rest of my life in jail wasn’t something I planned on doing.
The idea of getting somebody to kill her for me never entered my mind. And now that it had, now that I had told somebody, planned with somebody, agreed on a price, the question was, the only question was, did I really want Taye dead?
I thought back to my conversation with Qianna. Serious. You would kill my wife for ten Gs? I could hear myself saying.
How many times you gonna ask me that? I told you, you put ten Gs in my hand, and the bitch is done.
Were things that bad between us that I wanted her dead? Was I that angry with her to want her dead? Sadly, I had already answered that question. Yes, I was that unhappy with my life and the way it was going, to want her out of it.
I could just divorce her. I could go home right now, pack my things, and leave her. I could file for divorce in the morning and be done with it. I could move on with my life, and Taye could keep hers.
If I really wanted to be honest with myself, our current situation was my fault. Things really went bad for us when Taye found out that I had fucked Sandra. Since then, Taye has made my life a living hell. When I walk through the door, I never know what to expect. Since neither of her moods was good, it really didn’t matter. But was it enough to want her dead for what was essentially my fault?
Sadly, the answer was yes.
What was worse was the real reason that I was even considering murder as an option over divorce, and it wasn’t her mood. The real reason was money.
If I divorced her it would cost money. Since her condition is getting worse, and she refuses to take her prescribed medication, only those damn sleeping pills, she can’t work at all anymore. I would be her only means of support. That meant I would have to pay all of her legal fees and court costs. I would most likely loose the house, and have to split all of our other assets, on top of having to pay her a healthy amount of alimony. The weight of all of that would be a lot for me to bear. That makes it cheaper to kill her.
But there is a flip slide to my equation. When we were first married, Taye and I took out insurance policies on each other: a million-dollar life insurance policy with a double indemnity death benefit. If Qianna killed her in what would look like a robbery, and I wasn’t a suspect, I could collect that money. The truth was that I had a million reasons to want her dead.
But could I really trust Qianna? Could she kill somebody? Knowing what I know about her, which I admit isn’t much, I would say, yes, she could. I’ve seen the knife she carries around with her all the time. You ever—kill anybody before?
Yes.
The question was could I trust her to do it, and keep her mouth shut? Could I trust her not to leave evidence that would lead the police to her? And if that happened, would she tell the cops everything?
I turned into my driveway and put the car in park. I got out of the car, turned on the alarm, and walked toward the house. But instead of going inside, I took a walk around the house. The floodlights came on right away. I looked at the windows and the door on the backside of the house. Then I turned around and looked at the neighbor’s houses to get a feel for how visible they were.
I walked back to the front of the house and went inside, thinking that I would to turn off the floodlights before I left the house that next night. So that I wouldn’t forget, I went straight to the kitchen and flipped the switch. It was located on the same panel as the back porch light. I do it accidentally all the time, anyway.
I went to the bar and made myself a drink, and sat down in my chair. Planning is one thing, but it doesn’t really mean anything until I actually give Qianna the money. At this point, there was still time to back away from this. I could go upstairs, right now, and try to talk to Taye. Something I’ve attempted every night without success. I could tell her that I was sorry about everything that has gone on. Try to get her to see that she needed to—that we needed to recommit to some type of treatment plan.
Maybe we could find a doctor that could reach her. One that could prescribe something that she could take that wouldn’t have the type of side effects that would make her like a zombie. I could tell her that we could do it together, and maybe we could reclaim some semblance of the life we once shared.
I finished my drink and went upstairs. I was determined to try. Trying was certainly better than the alternative. Certainly better than the fate I had planned for her.
When I opened the door to our bedroom, Taye was laying in b
ed, dressed as she usually is, in sexy lingerie. It was something that bothered me, and I never have understood. Why wear sexy lingerie if sex is nowhere in your plan?
Taye was a very beautiful woman, with a body that still, in spite of everything that has happened, makes me want her each night when I get in bed with her. It was torture for me to sleep with her every night, knowing that she won’t let me touch her.
"Hello, Taye. How was your day?"
Taye looked up at me and threw the book she was reading at me. Then she got out of bed, walked over to the book, and picked it up.
"What’s wrong?"
Taye got back in the bed and propped herself up. "I hate you." Then she opened the book and began reading.
I started to turn around right then, go back downstairs, fix myself a drink, and come back after her sleeping pills kicked in.
Instead, I went and sat down on the edge of the bed. I guess I got a little too close, because Taye kicked me. I moved to what I felt was a safe distance, and took a deep breath.
