Home Wrecker by Dwayne S. Joseph

Author:Dwayne S. Joseph [Joseph, Dwayne S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Urban Books
Published: 2014-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

16

Friday night.

Diddy’s restaurant.

Toward the back, for privacy again.

As always, it was packed.

People went to Justin’s for two reasons. Some went for the soul food. Others went to be seen. I liked Justin’s. It was suave, chic, and hip. If Diddy were a Transformer, Justin’s would be what he transformed into.

I had arrived first. Ordered a Merlot to help me relax. I hated to admit it, but the dream had gotten to me. I was on edge and unnerved. I was ready to break something, someone.

I was sipping my Merlot when Marlene showed up and sat down. She ordered a martini from the waitress. When the waitress left, she gave me the name.

“Kyra Rogers.”

“Kyra Rogers?” This was the first time her name escaped from my lips. Wished it would have been the last. I asked, “Do you know this bitch?”

“Never heard of her before.”

Kyra Rogers.

One call to me. One call to Marlene. She’d been a presence in my world only two times, yet no one had affected me this way before.

The waitress brought Marlene her martini and left.

I said, “Did Lisa give her my number?”

Marlene shook her head. “She swears she didn’t. She swears that she didn’t talk about you with anyone else.”

“She was the only one you gave details too, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then, unless you’re lying to my face, she’s lying.”

“I’m not lying to your face.”

I stared at Marlene for a second and then said, “I know. I’d be able to tell if you were.”

Marlene sipped her drink and said, “I’m sorry, Lisette. I really didn’t think she’d tell anyone.”

I shook my head and called Marlene a stupid bitch with my eyes.

From one pair of lips to the next.

I closed my eyes a fraction as I continued to look at Marlene. My eyes were now calling her a stupid, stupid bitch.

Marlene looked down to her glass. “I’m sorry, Lisette,” she said again.

I said, “Too late for apologies.”

Marlene nodded.

“So . . . what did you find out about this bitch?”

“Well, her husband’s name is Myles Rogers. He’s made his money by buying up real estate throughout New York City. He owns properties in Manhattan, including two hotels. He owns a lot of property in Harlem that he bought up before the resurgence. The word is when Bill Clinton moved in, it was Myles’ lease that he signed.”

“Kyra,” I said, sipping my Merlot. “I want details about her.”

Marlene raised her eyebrows. “I am giving you details about her.”

“What does she do?”

“Well, other than spend her husband’s money . . . nothing. She’s married to a very rich African American real estate tycoon who very quietly is nipping at The Donald’s heels. That’s pretty much who she is. She doesn’t work. She doesn’t run any charitable foundations. She doesn’t head any fashion companies. From what I’ve heard about her, she spends her time going to spas and hanging out with other wives who have nothing better to do than to hit the hot spots and hang out with rappers.”

“Is she white?”

“No. She’s African American.”

“Black,” I said.

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