In This Life Read online

  Furtively, Freddy peeked around the corner. The old man dug into the wall, a picture hanging askew. Bob retrieved large stacks of neatly wrapped bills. As he slid the picture back, it dawned on Freddy that the hole in the wall was a safe, just like the ones he’d seen in the old movies.

  Bob walked back into the room. For some reason, seeing Marilyn near lunacy with fright made him feel she was worth every penny he was about to give her as a bonus. To his dismay, Socrates was in the bed with Marilyn sniffing at her breast as she continued to cry.

  “Bad boy!” Bob castigated the dog. Caught in the act, the dog raised its tail and made a quick dash for the door and ran out.

  Marilyn continued to shriek in high-pitched sobs. Bob placed the neatly stacked bills on her taut stomach. It teetered. She instantly stopped crying. He smiled at her, knowing that they always act like that when they see the money.

  The handcuffs were starting to cut off her circulation. They hurt her wrists something terrible. “Please take these chains off me,” she begged.

  He bent over her and pushed a button on each manacle and the fetters fell away. They didn’t even require a key she realized.

  They both heard a noise and turned their heads in unison to look in the direction from which it was coming. “Yip, yip, yip, yip, yeeeeeep!” Socrates was barking at something, but then the hallway became deadly silent.

  “Socrates…Socrates,” Bob called plaintively. He frantically put on his robe and made a beeline for the door.

  Marilyn sat straight up in bed. Her ears attuned, she listened for Bob’s departing footsteps. She could now hear him somewhere in the mansion calling Socrates. Quickly she gathered the gown and raced for the door she had come through on her way to the boudoir. Finally, she found it. With the money clenched in both hands, she was moving fast, and almost slipped and fell. She put on her dress, not bothering with her panties and bra. She shoved the money in her purse and ran out the room taking the steps with the athleticism of a track star. Halfway down the stairs, she abruptly stopped in mid-stride and turned, racing back up the stairs.

  Freddy watched her befuddled, perplexed as to what the hell she was doing. To his right, he could hear Bob off in the distance calling Socrates. Marilyn again descended the stairs. This time she had a lengthy gown in her hands, flying behind her like a cape. This whole scene was starting to look crazy and for the first time Freddy wondered what he had gotten himself into.

  Marilyn walked right up to him. He looked up from the couch. He couldn’t believe his eyes. This could not be the same lady that he had escorted. Now barefoot, her mascara rained black beneath her eyes, her hair matted to one side of her face. It looked as if she had stuck her finger into a light socket. Even more bizarre was the fact that she had her dress on backwards. Marilyn Fox looked like she had escaped from an insane asylum.

  Freddy stood as she approached, taking a step backwards. “Are you okay?” he asked. She looked away from him and nodded tentatively. In his peripheral vision, Freddy detected motion to his left, a glimpse of the butler James. The chandelier flickered achromatic lights ominously across his face. Strangely Freddy could not see his eyes, for they were cast deep in their sockets. Freddy pretended not to notice him and hoped that the butler had not seen what he had done to Socrates.

  Bob ambled in from another part of the mansion. His walk was slow and hesitant, contemplative. His hand rested under his chin. “Socrates…bad boy,” his voice mumbled to himself. He walked within a few feet of where they were standing. Marilyn eased her body behind Freddy and protectively placed her hand in the small of his back.

  “I apologize for any inconvenience,” Bob stated as his body twitched convulsively and his left eye spasmed from a tic. Freddy was instantly seized by a foul odor that seemed to emanate from the old man.

  “James will take you home or to any destination you desire.” He turned towards Marilyn. “The lady accommodated me quite nicely.” His uncontrolled, involuntary body movements got worse as soon as he looked at her. The lascivious expression on his face, his enhanced movement, and the twitching grimace on his face revealed his perverted mind. The man wanted more of Marilyn’s body.

  “I hope to have the pleasure of your company again, Miss Fox.”

  “Shiiiit!” Marilyn hissed loud enough for only Freddy’s ears to hear. She smiled placatingly at Bob. Freddy gazed politely back and forth at the two. He then realized what the foul odor was. Bob’s shoulder was now getting into motion. This whole scene was morbid and both characters were now under suspicion in his young eyes.

  The butler silently walked the long distance to the door. Freddy watched him like a hawk. The door opened, the curtains whooshing against the windowpanes. Freddy noticed a portrait of an old solider with a face that uncannily resembled Bob’s. In a blur, Marilyn was out the door in a flash.

  Bob smiled at her hasty departure. “I don’t think she likes me very much,” he said as he extended his hand to Freddy. Freddy hesitated and then pumped it vigorously. The man’s had was clammy, but his grip was quite strong and firm for a man of his age.

  Outside in the quiet of the night, it had stopped raining and the stars shone brightly; a light breeze cooled the earth. Marilyn leaned against the limousine fatigued. With her mascara ruined, she looked like a sad clown. Concealed in the night’s darkness, Freddy tried to smile at her. The moon bathed both of their reflections in its glow.

  The chauffeur opened the door and they both got in. As if ashamed, neither of them spoke. The door closed and Freddy heard Marilyn’s whimpering agony, her tears wetting his pants as her head came to rest in his lap. She cried softly. Freddy did not know what to do or say. Gently he caressed her naked shoulder. The car began to move.

  “I can’t do this…no…n…,” her quavering voice pleaded. “I want out of this business…Please help me!” Her words vibrated into his thighs and his mind. He could not think clearly, his mind stumbling and struggling over how to respond.

  “Don’t cry,” he said, feeling her silky skin tingle his fingers. She turned her face towards him just as the car sped over a pothole. Marilyn’s face came down hard on his groin and he thought he felt the fervent heat of her mouth. Something stirred deep in his loins, his libido awakened.

  “Freddy, baby, I need your help…Pleeease!” she begged him, her lubricious lips seeming to scratch at his zipper. “I’ll do anything you ask,” she cooed.

  He felt his shaft harden and snake down his thigh. She had to feel him throbbing…searching…

  “Wha-wha-what do you want me to do?” he chirped.

  As they passed a side street, light shined into the limo. Freddy could see her face fully, and yet again like a chameleon she had changed. Her innocence marinated his soul. He fought with all his volition, yet his body seeped inside of her, powerless, as she now pulled him in.

  “Let’s leave here, ” she suggested. “Take the money…all of it. I have enough already to last us a lifetime.” She held him captive, her ardent fiery passion scorching his shallow resistance. Like a torrid volcano about to erupt, he smoldered under the seductiveness of her sultry charm.

  The automobile turned down 47th Street, and again the light shined inside the car. He looked down at the feminine silhouette of the body curled up on his lap. The lineaments of her face, even with her mascara smeared, still made her one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. She turned to face him, her eyes searching his face for an answer.

  The car came to a stop in front of her hotel. Neither of them spoke. Marilyn gently eased herself off his lap and began to paw at her hair. Then, she turned and placed a hand on his arm as if sensing his resolve.

  “Marilyn…There is so much going on in my life that we’d only hinder each other’s progress. We seek the same things, but we’re from two completely different worlds. Yours is fame and glamour, and mine is poverty and despair. And one other thing… Billy Dawson knows your intent—“

  The chauffeur interrupted him by opening the do
or and standing there, waiting. Marilyn stared at Freddy until he looked away diffidently.

  “That’s your decision?” she asked coldly. When he didn’t answer, he followed her long legs as they exited the limousine and walked a few feet away.

  The chauffeur was just about to close the door when she whirled around angrily and stalked back to the car. “Get out of the damn car. Now!”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Get out the damn car!” She stood akimbo with one hand on her curved hip and the other as if she might attempt to grab him.

  “Listen Miss Fox… Mr. Dawson hired me to act as your bodyguard. I gave the man my word that I would return you safely and that is wh—“

  She cut him off midsentence. “Now you listen to me, Mr. Thugstin. You are not officially off the clock until 8:00 a.m. That was the time we were scheduled to leave. It was I who got us out of that maniac’s dungeon early, so you are still on my time and I’m still your boss. Come, come, come…” she said giddily. Her long, manicured fingernails clawed him as she grabbed his hand, pulling him forward. He could not help but smile at her antics. The chauffeur politely tilted his hat and closed the door as they walked away.

  Marilyn looked up at Freddy towering over her. She thought to herself as she looked up at him how very handsome he was. His eyes were bright with innocence, his baby face complexion flawless. What attracted her to him most was his aloofness. And yet he had a thug appeal and was genuinely trying to be nice to her by resisting her flirtatious seductions. No man had ever done that before. She knew that he was attracted to her, she could tell by the way he looked at her body when he thought she was unaware. His awkwardness and the large wet spot in the front of his pants made her smirk as she held back a smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  Together they walked into the vestibule. The blond-haired clerk looked at them surprised, a bit startled. Marilyn knew that she must look deranged, barefoot and hair in disarray. In the bright lights she noticed for the first time her dress was on backwards.

  The clerk stared at Freddy malevolently as if he was the culprit responsible for her slovenly appearance. “Miss Fox, are you okay?” he said with noticeable concern in his voice, looking at Freddy with disdain all the while, letting his suspicion of him be known.

  “Yo!” Freddy shouted before Marilyn could respond. “You got a problem seein’ me with Miss Fox?”

  “No, I just thought that—“

  “I know what you thought! You white boys gotta stop thoughtin’ and start thinking real hard when you see a brother in one of your establishments. If I were here for any other purpose, you wouldn’t even be lookin’ at my face.”

  The clerk looked intimidated by his words. He attempted to answer, but the words were struck in his throat.

  Politely, Marilyn interjected. “Hi, Steve, I’m fine.” Then she tugged Freddy by his arm as he still fumed at the disrespect the clerk had shown him.

  Together they took the elevator and rode up to her suite. As soon as they entered, Freddy was overcome by the stylish elegance. Marilyn lived like a princess. The moquette carpeting and upholstery were all custom-made, hand-designed from various parts of the world. What really caught Freddy’s attention was all the beautiful crystal glass and mirrors that were handsomely part of the décor. One thing was for sure, Marilyn Fox was very fond of mirrors. To his right was a kitchenette, directly in front of him a love seat, and on the other side of the room was a long couch that seemed to hug the entire length of the room. There was a tall potted fern in front of the window.

  Marilyn dropped her shoes and purse on the floor and stood facing Freddy. For some reason she still held the gown that Bob had given her. “I’m going to take a shower and get cleaned up some.” She pushed an unruly lock of hair from her forehead. “I know I must look a mess.” She blushed and then walked away.

  Freddy watched her from behind thinking to himself how soft her butt must be from the way it bounced when she seemed to be just casually walking.

  She stopped and turned, catching him staring after her. The grin on her face said it all as she tried to play it off, acting as if she hadn’t seen him looking at her ass. “Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge, and the stereo is over there in the wall panel. Just push the button next to the light switch and the panel will open up into a bar and stereo system.” She then disappeared into another section of the suite.

  Quickly he sat down on the couch and took a long envelope from the back of his pants. Whatever it was he had stolen, it was just one of the many packages that had been in the safe. He listened attentively until he heard water running. The crackling noise was loud in his ears as he slowly began to open the envelope. He prayed that Marilyn would not walk in and catch him. He stuck his hand inside and pulled out some old documents, placing them on the table in front of him. He then removed a small, velvet pouch. Inside were gold coins and two smaller velvet boxes. He opened the first one, and the room seemed to fill with the radiant glow of the dazzling gems.

  “Wow!” he exclaimed loudly as a kaleidoscope of colors danced magically before his eye. His heart pounded loudly as he realized what he had stolen. He looked at the front door of the suite apprehensively, expecting Bob’s goons to kick it down at any moment.

  Hesitantly, he opened the next box, not knowing what to expect. The brilliant flash of a large diamond jumped out at him. “Daaamn!” It was the size of a marble and mounted on gold prongs as if belonging to a royal dynasty of some earlier time.

  He closed the box and listened assiduously for Marilyn as he pulled some pictures from the envelope. The pictures were of Bob and Socrates. Freddy couldn’t believe his eyes. The dog seemed almost to be posing for the camera, its little rat’s tail standing straight up, while Bob stood beside him, nude with an infant erection. Freddy viewed the rest of the photos. They were disgusting.

  The last items that he removed from the envelope were also paper: money. Lots of it, all in crisp new bills wrapped just like the ones he had seen Bob give Marilyn. He quickly stuffed the money into his pockets and socks and shoved everything else back into the envelope. He thought he heard Marilyn coming. He looked frantically for a place to hide the envelope, having no intention of keeping it in his possession. He looked beneath the couch, finding a soft fabric bottom. He punched a hole in it, placing the envelope carefully inside.

  Just as he finished, Marilyn sashayed in, clad in a gorgeous see-through gown that left nothing to the imagination. Freddy ogled her as she walked straight towards him. Her voluptuous body strained at the silk sheath, fighting its concealment with each of her feline strides. Her feminine scent primed his loins. She moved sleekly past him to the wall where she pushed a button and the panes spread apart, revealing a state of the art sound system as the bar slid out. She spun around gracefully and smiled. He returned her smile as she bent down and turned on the system. The strategically placed speakers played melodically throughout the suite.

  She strolled to the couch and sat next to him. “Fred, have you thought about what I asked you?” She crossed her legs seductively, pulling at her gown in a futile attempt to cover the cleavage of her thighs.

  “Marilyn, I’ll do anything I can to help you bu—“

  “Billy Dawson is old and senile and his ancient ass can’t do nothin’ for me.”

  “Then why are you with him?” Freddy asked. As he leaned back on the couch, a footrest slowly elevated his feet. He looked at her in surprise, Marilyn smiling at his naivete.

  “You look comfortable,” she said and then got up and went to the bar. Ice clinked in the glasses as she fixed their drinks.

  “Billy Dawson said that you had went to college.” She turned and was about to speak, thought better of it, and walked towards him, her hips moving in sequence with the drinks. She stood over him, her legs slightly parted as she watched his eyes. Freddy knew that she was reading him like a book, and he found it difficult to keep his eyes from roaming to the lower regions of her body. He won
dered if she was wearing panties or was that his imagination. In each of her hands she held large, oval-shaped glasses, and she extended the left glass toward him.

  “Here’s a toast to us,” she said, handing the glass to Freddy and then touching hers to his. Although the only thing he had every drank was Olde English and Wild Irish Rose wine, he turned the glass up and almost drained it. It took only a second for his body to register the effect and then, right before Marilyn’s eyes, he felt like he’d been transformed in to a fiery dragon as he began to gag and choke, water gushing from his eyes. She took a step back and asked, “Are you okay?”

  He looked at her through blurry eyes and asked in a frog’s croak, “What is dis?”

  “Hennessey, straight on the rocks. I hope it’s not too strong for you.”

  “No. No, it just went down the wrong pipe,” Freddy said as he started to feel a wave of tranquility wash over him.

  Marilyn sat down next to him, curled her legs under her sideways, and watched him closely, occasionally stirring her drink with her finger and then licking it clean.

  “So, did you?”

  “Did I what?” Marilyn asked.

  “Did you go to college?”

  “Yes, my family had a little money, plus I enjoyed the benefits of being almost white. So, a lot of opportunities were made available, to which I otherwise might not have had access. Whoever said that it doesn’t matter what color you are must have been blind.” She shook her head from side to side as if trying to relieve an awful memory. With a somber expression on her face, she said, “Yeah, I have a bachelor’s degree in psychology. I was just about to get a master’s in fine arts. I wanted to be a dancer, but then I was propelled into all this.” She gestured with a wave of her hand. “I ended up working as a television personality, and to top it off, I became Chicago’s first black female sportscaster.” She looked into her glass for a moment and then took a long swig.