On the Line Read online

  “Don’t hate.” She glances around. “So what were you doing?”

  “My usual. Going through some of those letters for tonight’s show.”

  “Anything juicy?” Her pop eyes pop even more.

  I tell her about Ms. Upper Crust and her dilemma.

  “Humph, humph, humph.” She shakes her head. “Takes all kinds. I can hear the calls come in for that one. What else you got?”

  Macy always tries to get a head start on the show so she’ll know in advance how often she’s going to have to bleep my ass.

  “Come on in the office. You can go through some with me.”

  She follows me to the back of my two-bedroom condo. “Help yourself,” I tell her, pointing to the box. I resume my position.

  Macy pulls up a chair and digs in. We’re both quiet for a while reading and discarding. Macy is the first to break the silence.

  “Girl, you have got to put this one on the air.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Some chick who signs herself as, A Lovely Mess. Listen to this…”

  CHAPTER 2

  I knew my life had unraveled as I boarded my flight to Phoenix with only moments to spare. I made myself comfortable in the window seat I’d managed to nab with the intention of cleaning up some files on my laptop. However, my mind was full with other things. I stared out the window and wondered at what point my life had become so complicated. I was losing myself for love’s sake. I was in love with three different men, maintained three different identities, lived in three different homes and owned three different cars. The sex was equally great, but different with all three, believe it or not.

  I had heard about nymphomaniacs and did not consider myself to be one. In fact, I was in this situation because, long ago, I had come to the realization that sex outside of marriage was wrong. Each husband had been patient and kind and respected the fact that I was a woman who cherished the sanctity of marriage as well as my body. But the best thing about all three is that they are not the jealous types. They have lives that they are comfortable living with or without me. There is nothing more attractive than a confident, independent man. I married Antoine six years ago. I then met and married James and Mark two years later within the same year. It was hectic, but I thrive on hectic situations.

  It seemed that just as I began to doze off, the pilot announced that we would be landing soon.

  As I made my way through the terminal, briefcase and laptop in tow, I thought I heard someone call my name. “Maya!” There it was again. It sounded like…

  “Hey, sweetheart, let me get that.” I turned to my right and, sure enough, it was James. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. “How was your flight?”

  “Ahh, well, it was smooth,” I said, a bit surprised to see him.

  “That’s great. I know your car’s here, but I wanted to surprise you and pick you up. I thought maybe we could have an early dinner, and who knows…” James smiled seductively.

  I was a little perplexed by this. I mean, he never picked me up from the airport and this “who knows” thing. Well, what did that mean? We hadn’t had sex in almost a year…at least not in the traditional way. A funny thought came to my mind. I remembered when former President Clinton was going through his Monica Lewinsky scandal. He held fast to his excuse that he did not have sexual relations with her. I thought with a Southern twang, I have not had sexual relations with this man. How crazy. Everyone knew oral sex was also sex.

  As long as I had known him, James had had high blood pressure, but within months of going on the medication, he had become impotent. With the occasional creative ways we had developed for him to please me, ours was pretty much a nice companionship. I love James and there is nothing he wouldn’t do or buy for me, but as an older, retired, impotent man, there is very little he could do for me physically anymore.

  “Well, what about my car?”

  “You’re flying back out in another two days, just leave it here.”

  “That’s such a waste of money.”

  “Amaya, since when has wasting money concerned you? You know we can afford it.”

  I hated surprises like this. I did not like not being in control of things. But I supposed this dear man had to exert his manhood in some way. While we waited to retrieve my luggage I wondered what James was up to.

  “So, to what do I owe the honor of this surprise pickup?”

  “Well, I have a surprise for you, dear.”

  “Another one? I’m not sure how much more of this I can take,” I joked. “Will it do me any good to ask what the surprise is?” I asked, getting a little irritated.

  “Not one bit. You’ll just have to wait and see,” James responded, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled up to Rio Sabor Brazil, a Brazilian-style steak house and a meat-lover’s paradise.

  “Wow, I’ve wanted to try this place for the longest time. Okay, now I’m really suspicious,” I remarked, studying James as he held the door open for me to enter the restaurant. The Southwestern decor was impressive with the Sunset over Tuscany and Wall of Ages mural from Provence, France. There was a rustic, romantic feel about the place and the many candles added to the intimacy of the surroundings. After a few glasses of wine, we feasted on a prime rib special, prepared with roasted vegetables and garlic mashed potatoes.

  “That was delicious,” I said, still savoring the memory of the meal as we drove down the highway.

  “You’re right. It looks like we’ll have a new favorite place,” James replied as he turned on the blinker to signal he was exiting the freeway. I noticed it was a different exit from the one we usually took to get home and figured it was another part of this ongoing series of surprises he had in store, so I said nothing. The drive had become quite relaxing, accompanied by the two glasses of wine I’d had during our meal.

  After another five minutes of driving, James turned right onto a street leading to the airport, which was where we had originally come from. Perhaps he was taking me back to my car, I thought. But he turned right instead of left and headed toward the hotels. Within minutes, we pulled up in front of the Embassy Suites Hotel. Before I could ask James why we were there, he was out of the car, the valet was in and my door was being opened. This was getting just a little weird.

  “James, what is going on?” I demanded.

  “Just bear with me a few more minutes, baby!” James replied. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

  We walked briskly through the lobby, caught the elevator and rode it up to the penthouse suite, where James seemed to magically produce a plastic card key to the room. My mind was racing now. It wasn’t my birthday, anniversary or any other special occasion I could think of. Once we entered the beautiful suite, there was no one popping out from behind furniture yelling “Surprise!” but rather, just the two of us. Now, I was really getting upset. I folded my arms and stood in the middle of the living room.

  “Okay, James, enough! I have had it up to here,” I said, gesturing with my hand above my head. “You tell me what this is all about. I’ve gone along with this little game long enough.”

  “Okay, baby! I wanted to make this really special,” James said, taking my hand and leading me into the bedroom. “I know I have not been able to be the perfect husband to you for a while now, but that is going to change, starting today.” He gathered me up in his arms and began kissing me passionately, while massaging my breasts and buttocks.

  “James, what are you…” I managed between kisses.

  “Let me show you, baby! I just love you so much,” James said as he began unbuttoning my shirt and then my slacks. When he pressed up against me, I was stunned to feel his erection. I drew back and stared at him. There was a look in his eye that I had not seen since the first time we had sex.

  “What happened? What did you do?”

  “That Viagra really is a wonder drug, baby!”

  “What? Viagra! But what about your blood-pressure medication? I’ve heard that you’re not supposed to mix medications li
ke that.”

  “You’re right, but my doctor is monitoring me closely. I’m not worried, I’m happy, excited even. Do you know how I feel as a man, wanting my wife and not being able to make love to you? You can’t even imagine. I feel like less than a man.”

  “But, baby, you do give me pleasure and our marriage is about more than sex.”

  “Amaya, I’m not crazy. You’re a young, beautiful woman who is full of life and most likely at her sexual peak. Without this Viagra, it’s just a matter of time before I lose you.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, it’s true. You can say what you want but I know the real deal. I haven’t lived this long and learned nothing. I’m seventeen years older than you and I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep up. Allow me this,” James said as he began kissing me on the neck.

  I had to admit it felt good. James and I had had many passionate nights while we were dating and through our first year of marriage. While I had been very content with the way things were, there was a part of me that missed our bonding the way a husband and wife should. For him to go to these lengths for me endeared me to him more than words could ever explain.

  I tore open his shirt, kissed him passionately as we made our way to the king-size bed and hoped with the help we now had, nature would take its course. As luck would have it, it did, again and again and again.

  On my way from LAX to the restaurant the following day, I thought about Mark. It was not unusual for me to lay everything out for him whenever he had an important meeting. Today he was to host his company’s annual fundraiser. Having started out as the assistant grant writer for the organization, he was proud to have worked his way up to executive director, which was being announced today. But, it seemed that for most of the important moments in his life, I had not been there to share them. And today, not unlike many other days, my flight from Phoenix had been delayed. I had promised I would meet him at the event, but I was sure that after so many promises he had no faith that I would be able to make it before the event was over.

  I squeezed my Mini Cooper into the only available parking spot within a two-block radius off of Melrose Avenue. There would be another two blocks to walk once I reached Tommy Tang’s. I suppose I could have taken advantage of the valet parking, but I didn’t want to wait. Catching a cab would have been my best bet, but I was pressed for time. As I walked briskly along Melrose Avenue, a thin layer of sweat covered my forehead. I was praying I had not missed too much of the event. When I walked through the doors, there was still a good crowd formed in the private dining area, but I knew I had missed the announcement. I made a quick dash to the ladies’ room to freshen up. This was a grazing ground for celebrities and I wanted to look my best. After maneuvering my way through the crowd, I reached the private ballroom just in time to hear Mark thank everyone for their contributions and bid them farewell. I stood off to the side and watched as the crowd thinned out. I could see Mark scan the room and, without blinking, his gaze caught mine. I could see his face register disappointment and then in the very same instance he smiled that dazzling smile that always made me melt. I walked toward him, but before I reached him, a man came up, shook his hand and congratulated him.

  “John, let me introduce you to my wife. Amaya, this is John McNeil, my new boss.”

  Extending my hand, I said, “Very nice to meet you. We are so excited that you have extended this opportunity to Mark.”

  “Oh, well, I can’t think of a better person for the job. Mark is very passionate about his work and working with the community. He’s also made a lot of connections with the entertainment industry and that is invaluable. Mark, you have a wonderful weekend. You did a great job tonight. We will have a busy week next week, so try not to party too much,” he said jokingly.

  “I will, John, you do the same.” Mark then turned to me. That dazzling smile had been replaced with hurt that flickered in his crystal-blue eyes. “I’m glad you were able to make it,” he said somberly.

  “Mark, I did my best. I have no control over the flights,” I responded in my defense, but it was lost on him.

  “But you do have control over your life. Look, I don’t want to argue. I just want to talk about this when we get home. Where did you park? I’ll walk you to your car.” He placed his hand in the small of my back and gently guided me toward the direction of the front door.

  Although we walked in silence, once we reached my car and I was all settled in, I rolled down the window and said, “I’ll see you at home, honey.” Mark just nodded and walked back toward the direction of the restaurant.

  Mark was Caucasian with black hair, blue eyes, a very nice build and stood approximately six feet, two inches. Any woman would be lucky to have him. But I really didn’t have time for attitude or an argument. Sure, I was disappointed that I had missed his promotion announcement, but he would just have to understand that my career was important to me, too.

  Once I reached our apartment near the Hollywood Hills, I hurriedly went upstairs and began removing my clothing. I wanted to shower and get comfortable before Mark got home, but just as I stepped into the shower, I heard the garage door open and within minutes Mark entered the house.

  He didn’t make a sound as he slipped out of his clothing. I had my arms outstretched and pressed against the shower wall. I leaned toward the spray of the water with my eyes closed. The water flowed down my face and hair. I never even heard Mark open the shower door to enter, but before I knew it, he had joined me in the shower and was behind me, hands reaching around to fondle and massage my breasts. He began to grind me from behind. I moaned in anticipation, moving back on Mark’s groin as he pressed even harder until gaining entry.

  Although Mark had been angry with me, it would seem that all was forgiven, for now.

  I was so glad to be back home in San Francisco that I could have run from the airport once the plane landed. Instead, I went through my normal routine of picking up my luggage and taking the shuttle to my car. I couldn’t wait to see Antoine. He had seemed pretty distant the last time I talked to him. I was sure it had something to do with talks of budget cuts at UC Berkeley where he was associate head coach for the men’s basketball team. I was fortunate enough to have caught a much earlier flight, putting me at home half a day earlier than anticipated.

  I figured I would go home, take a long hot bath, get comfortable and wait for Antoine. Who knew, maybe I’d even surprise him and make dinner. Instead of pulling into the garage, I parked in the driveway and just grabbed my laptop and toiletry bag out of the car. Antoine could get the big suitcase out of the trunk for me later.

  This time, I didn’t fumble with the keys. When I entered the foyer I noticed the lights were on. I called out to Antoine but received no response. I set my purse and keys on the little table right next to the door and stepped out of my pumps. As I walked down the hallway to the bedroom, I began removing my blazer and unbuttoning my shirt. That bathtub had my name on it. But I was rooted mid-stride when I heard sounds coming from my bedroom. My mind was playing tricks on me, because even though I knew what the sounds were, I told myself it was the television. Willing my legs to move, I managed to make it to the bedroom door that was ajar. There it was again. “Oooooh, Toiinnnne, don’t stop, baby, please!” the voice said breathlessly.

  I actually stood outside the door wondering how I should make my entrance, if at all. My mind was racing. Should I barge in mid-orgasm? Wait for them to finish? Or, go back to the kitchen and microwave a large bowl of water to boiling? I could even go for the bat in the hall closet, but that might make too much noise. Just as I had mustered up enough courage to storm in, I guess Miss Thang had reached the pinnacle of her orgasm. She began mewling like a wounded animal. “Ooooooh, baby, it’s so, soooooo, good. Pleeeeeze.” I could hear the springs in the bed creaking in rhythm to Antoine’s pace and his heavy breathing. I had to admit, Antoine was great in the sack, but I was not as vocal during sex as this whore. Standing there, thinking of all the times we had
made love in this very same bed made me physically ill. I turned and ran to the hall bathroom and fell to my knees in front of the toilet. I must have thrown up everything I had eaten for the past two days. I felt so sick and weak. But now my cover was blown and the element of surprise gone. I could hear scrambling and then bare feet running on the hardwood floors in the hallway. I composed myself enough to get my head out of the toilet and prop myself up with my elbow. I had to have a little bit of dignity. I also wanted to see the expression on Antoine’s face. When the running stopped, I looked up and there he was, standing in the doorway clad in only his boxers with her, whoever she was, right behind him with my top sheet draped around her like she was posing for some Roman advertisement. She was about my height and build, a shade lighter with a short, trendy haircut. Attractive, but she didn’t have anything on me, except for Antoine, I guess.

  I flushed the toilet, still trying to keep my dignity intact. A little wobbly, I stood watching the expressions on both their faces.

  “Baby, I wasn’t expecting you until later this evening. What’s wrong?”

  I really couldn’t believe he had just asked me what was wrong as he stood three feet away from me with the woman he had just had sex with.

  “Are you joking?” I managed to reply. “Antoine, who is this ho and why is she still standing here?” I screamed, getting stronger by the minute. By now, I was standing and making my way over to them. I lunged at her, but Antoine blocked the doorway while she ran back to my bedroom. I was blind with rage as I pounded Antoine’s chest and struggled to get out of his grasp.

  “I’m sorry, Amaya. Baby, I’m sorry. I would give anything to take this back,” he said, keeping me locked in a bear hug. Just then, the tramp walked down the hallway, half-dressed, and opened the front door. “Call me when you get your life together, Antoine,” she yelled, and slammed the door.

  “Why, Antoine? Why?” I screamed.

  “I know it might sound cliché, but it just kind of happened. I mean, you’re gone so much.” I broke free from his grasp and walked into the living room.