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Even though it was a deterrent to having friends . . . and love.
And so much more.
Over the rim of her wineglass, Desdemona eyed the book. As she set her wineglass next to her plate of unfinished food she opened the book, flipping through the first few pages to reach chapter one.
She used the tip of her fingernail to follow along with each line as she read the story.
Less than five minutes later she closed the book and gave it a little nudge to push it away from her.
Leaving her barely touched dinner for the building’s housekeeping to clear away the next day, Desdemona refilled her glass and moved about the living area to place the lid on the glass holding each lit candle. Without oxygen, the flame soon burned out with the lid keeping the acrid smell of the burned wick from filling the air.
She paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness before she made her way over to the other side of the condominium, moving down the hall to her marbled bathroom. The music continued to play. Soon the robe was in a pile on the floor by her tub and her hair was twisted into a disheveled topknot before she sank beneath the warm depths, massaging the beautifully scented oil in the water against her body and then resting her head against the edge of the tub and closing her eyes.
The book had been a challenge to herself, and she had failed. Frustration got the best of her. There were far too many of the words lost to her. Those whose meaning escaped her. She couldn’t pronounce or spell. Some of it might as well be foreign.
Desdemona raised her leg above the water, high in the air, pointing her foot to the high ceiling. With a sigh and the music as her backdrop, she decided she had done far too much in her life to let her lack of education be her biggest shame.
Chapter Four
Thursday, August 16, 2018
They have no idea just how good they have it...
Her life was a constant juggling of anywhere from five to ten balls in the air at one time. Her brain and instincts were always in overdrive. Tell this. Keep that. Do this. Don’t do that. Every move and decision were critical. If this happens that may follow. Maintaining a “Chinese wall” between her consorts and paramours. Protecting everyone. Ensuring no one person would lead to her downfall. Covering all bases. Chess over checkers.
Freedom over incarceration for promoting prostitution.
Think. Think. Think.
Constantly.
Even something as simple as having the house cleaned took strategy. Inviting strangers into a house used as a brothel was an invitation for trouble if not handled properly. So once a week she had a cleaning company come in to keep the house immaculate. She rotated between four companies, not wanting anyone to have consistent access to the house. She made sure to have it thought of as a vacation rental and every Thursday she made sure to personally sweep the house for anything incriminating.
I’ve seen some shit.
Standing on the doorstep of her rental house in Riverdale, Desdemona felt tension nipping at her neck. The tightness across her shoulders was undeniable. Anxiety. It was mild and didn’t induce panic, but it was there. She closed her eyes and did the 4-7-8 breathing method talking herself through the steps in her head.
Exhale.
Inhale for four seconds.
Hold breath for seven seconds.
Exhale for eight seconds.
“Relax, Desi. Relax,” she mouthed, wiggling her shoulders before she smoothed her palms down the skirt of the black tennis dress she wore with all-black Yeezys.
Inside the house, she removed the Gucci leather backpack she wore and reached in the side pocket for a pair of gloves to pull on. The house was empty. Denzin had been flown to Greece by a long-time consort for their annual week-long tryst. His fluidity in the sex department made him a favorite of gals and guys.
She was headed toward the elevator with a garbage bag in her gloved hand when she paused at the thought of lounging nude aboard a mega-yacht as the sun toasted her skin to a deeper shade of brown. Not that something of that caliber was beyond her reach. It would barely dent her savings—in the bank, in her safes, and in safety deposit boxes in several banks—to charter a superyacht for a week-long cruise in the Mediterranean.
Should I?
She shook her head, denying herself as she continued into the house, wishing she had enough room on her plate to trust one more person. To throw one more ball in the air to juggle by hiring a full-time maid.
I wish.
Desdemona took the stairs to the second level and entered the first bedroom to the right. It was decorated in neutral shades with pops of dark blue for color. None of the bedrooms had heavy comforters over the covers. The high thread-count sheets and lightweight blankets were easier to clean and keep in abundance in the linen closets. The bed was still unmade from its use just last night.
