Hittin' It Out the Park Read online

  She gasped when she saw it. A pink Prada Saffiano Lux tote! And she’d never seen one with metal studs and stones. She’d never seen one for less than $2,500, and this one had to be even more. Cheryl gently caressed the bag, then brought it to her face and inhaled the soft leather. She had bags, but none this beautiful, or this expensive. She dashed back into the bedroom and quickly changed her clothes, putting on an ivory dress with pink accents that perfectly matched her new acquisition. She topped it off with a wide-brimmed sun hat and a pair of Prada sunglasses and headed out the door; her mood greatly lightened, she was now sure of the success of her mission.

  God, I love Randy, she thought as she drove up Lexington Avenue. And not only because of all his gifts, all his money, and all the luxuries he provided her; and not even because he loved her more than any man she’d ever known. She loved him for him. He had his faults and weaknesses, of course, but he was basically a good man. He was loving, considerate, sincere, a damn good husband—at least until that damn Sexy showed up in their lives.

  Spotting a pay phone near a very rare parking space a few feet away, Cheryl pulled over. She adjusted her sunglasses, slipped on her lightweight gloves, and grabbed her new bag and hopped out the car. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the phone. She was about to insert the necessary coins when she noticed a woman window-shopping sporting the same Prada bag she had on her arm. Same color, and same unusual metal studs and stones. Cheryl smiled to herself. Maybe someone else was lucky enough to have as generous a husband as her. The smile, however, suddenly contorted into a furious scowl when the woman turned and faced her. It was Sexy.

  Slamming down the telephone receiver so hard she almost broke it, she stomped toward her. Sexy didn’t see her until she was only a few steps away. Instead of backing away or cowering, Sexy looked at her with a wicked smile and said: “Nice bag.”

  Cheryl stopped in her tracks, speechless for perhaps the first time in her life. And as bad as she wanted to slap the girl, she was paralyzed. And she was uncertain as to why.

  Sexy, for her part, seemed to be enjoying the situation. “Why, Cheryl, fancy seeing you in my new neighborhood. I was planning to give your friend, Stephen, a call to get a contact list for all the players’ wives so I could invite them over for my housewarming. Wait until you see the apartment Randy rented for me. And the furniture is simply to die for. Are you available, say, next Sunday?”

  Instead of answering, Cheryl smiled and reached into her now hated new tote bag, and pulled out her cell phone. “Hey, Randy, baby. How’s it going?”

  “Fine, babe, I’m on my way home to you now. Do you need me to pick something up for you?”

  “No, sweetie, I’m out myself. In fact, would you believe I ran into Sexy? She wants to know if we’re available next Sunday to attend a housewarming for the apartment you rented for her.”

  There was a pause, then: “Cheryl, I was going to tell you—”

  “No, I didn’t tell her. Should I? Oh, okay.” Cheryl grinned and pulled the phone from her ear. “Sexy, Randy said to tell you that he’s already called the landlord to find out how much he has to pay to break the lease, and he suggests that you start moving out by this weekend. I suppose there’ll be no housewarming next weekend, huh?” Cheryl struggled hard to hide the grin that was battling to make itself known. Sexy’s emotions, on the other hand, were evident on her face. She was furious.

  “Do you want to talk to him?” Cheryl asked, holding the phone toward the girl.

  “No, thanks, I’ll be seeing him later this evening,” Sexy said, in a voice that she was obviously trying to keep steady.

  “Oh, okay.” Cheryl brought the telephone back to her ear. “Randy, Sexy said she’ll talk to you when she sees you this evening. Should I call and cancel the airline reservations we have for our Bahamas getaway?”

  “Cheryl, I don’t know what you’re doing, but okay, handle this any way you want.” He paused, and then added, “But please don’t be too mean. She doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Gotcha. Love you, babe. And don’t worry, the bags are all packed so we can head to the airport as soon as you get home.” She slipped the telephone back in her bag. “He asked me to tell you that he filed for a restraining order against you—”

  “What!” Sexy’s mouth dropped open.

  “And that you’ll probably be served later this afternoon, or maybe tomorrow.” Cheryl looked at her watch. “Oh, look at the time. I still have to pick up a couple of bathing suits, so I’ve got to run.” She turned, and slowly sashayed her way back to her car, letting the tote bag lazily sway back and forth on her arm. Right before getting in the car, she turned and looked at Sexy, smiled, and twirled her fingers goodbye, in the same way Sexy had done to her too many times.

  But once inside the car, Cheryl was anything but calm and relaxed. He fucking rented her an apartment? On the Upper East Side, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in New York. And he actually bought both of us the same exact bag? What is that? Some kind of male ego thing, branding his women? I hate him! She started the car and pulled off, tears in her eyes. Damn, I wish I didn’t love him so much.

  Abandoning her plan to call Ligon, Cheryl got on the FDR Drive heading north, not caring where she’d end up. After twenty-five minutes she realized she was almost at the George Washington Bridge. Maybe a ride through New Jersey would help clear her mind. She was debating whether to go over the bridge or not, when her cell phone rang. She looked down at the screen. Ligon!

  * * *

  “So let me get this straight,” Cheryl said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You mean you had nothing to do with his death?”

  “Not a damn thing,” Ligon said while nonchalantly chewing a wooden toothpick. “Our contract was for a thorough roughing up—”

  “But not too rough,” Cheryl hurriedly broke in.

  Ligon smirked at her, before continuing: “Our contract was for a thorough roughing up, but nothing too drastic.”

  “Right. And?”

  Ligon shrugged. “And so he was gifted a broken leg, a broken wrist, and a broken nose, along with a warning that if he ever contacted you, he’d be in for much worse. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “So you did not run him down with a car?”

  A look of annoyance crossed Ligon’s face, but his voice remained cool. “No, like I said before, I didn’t have a damn thing to do with it. It’s a bad coincidence that it happened the same day.”

  Cheryl leaned back in her chair and breathed a large sigh of relief. “Oh, God, you don’t know how relieved I am, Ligon. You can’t even imagine how it was tugging on my conscience and—”

  “On your conscience, huh?” Ligon chuckled. “Sure you weren’t afraid I was going to get caught and maybe rat you out?”

  “Not at—” Cheryl paused and smiled. “Okay, I’m not going to lie. That was my primary concern. But I always kinda knew that even if you were caught, you’d never implicate me.”

  “True.” Ligon winked, and gave one of his rare smiles. “I wouldn’t have. But I understand you worrying, since there isn’t any way for you to know that.”

  Cheryl poured herself another cup of Ethiopian Fancy coffee after offering Ligon a cup, which he turned down. “Ligon, we’ve known each other for a few years now, and I’ve never had the nerve to ask before, but how did you, well, get started in your, uh, business?”

  Ligon shrugged. “I was a Navy SEAL for five years, then a Marine for another four years, and so when I got out, it seemed like a natural fit.” He gave Cheryl a meaningful look and added: “And let’s leave it at that.”

  Cheryl nodded. “Well, so you know, I really appreciate you.”

  “Nice to know.” Ligon stood up. “Okay, I’ve got to run. Nice seeing you again.”

  Sexy

  “It took you forever to return my calls,” Sexy said anxiously when Randy finally called. “Are you really kicking me out of the apartment and getting a restraining order on me?”

  “What? No!”


  “I’m only repeating what Cheryl said.”

  “Oh, yeah, about Cheryl . . .” Randy paused for a beat. “Like I told you before, she usually doesn’t mind if I have an occasional fling, but she’s not happy with what’s been going on between the two of us. She wants it to stop.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want whatever makes my wife happy. She already had a mental health crisis on account of me cheating with you, and I need to be the good husband that I vowed to be when I married her. She’s been breaking her neck, tryna get pregnant, and the least I can do is be faithful.”

  It was insulting that Randy had allowed Cheryl to come between them, but Sexy forced herself to stay calm. Choosing her words carefully, she spoke softly and with compassion. “I understand that your marriage is important to you, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it hurts me to the core to lose that special bond we had.”

  “I know—I know. Please try to understand, I never meant to hurt you. But I feel like I done dug myself down into a deep hole and I’m scratching like crazy, tryna dig myself out.”

  “We’re in that hole together. I care about you, Randy, and I know you feel the same.”

  “I do. I care a lot about you, but I love my wife, and I have to put her first. Cheryl said it’s hard for a woman to get pregnant when she’s under a whole lot of mental stress. I’m sorry, Sexy, but we have to break this off before it goes any further.”

  She sniffled and whimpered pitifully. “Are you sure Cheryl is trying to get pregnant? It’s unusual for a model to deliberately mess up her body like that. Models are so obsessed with their looks, they usually don’t start having children until they’re in their mid-to-late thirties, and Cheryl’s . . . what? In her late twenties?”

  “She’s twenty-four,” Randy corrected.

  Damn, she’s got some mileage on her ass to be only twenty-four. That bitch looks like she’s kicking thirty in the ass. “All I’m saying is that it seems odd that she suddenly wants to have a baby.”

  “It’s not sudden. She stopped taking the pill months ago. She’s giving up her modeling career and wants to commit herself to being a full-time wife and mother,” he said defensively.

  “Mm-hmm,” she murmured suspiciously.

  “You don’t know Cheryl. All she’s been talking about lately is how bad she wants to be the mother of my child.”

  Randy was so naïve. It was a shame the way Cheryl had him duped. She gave a long sigh. “Well, there’s nothing else I can say except I wish you both the best.”

  “Thanks. Oh, by the way, you don’t have to worry about me kicking you out of the apartment. The rent’s paid up for six months, but after that, maybe you need to think about getting into that sports medicine school.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I suppose it’s time for both of us to move on with our lives.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Sexy,” Randy said, sounding relieved. “You’re so sweet and understanding. Now, I don’t want you to have to worry about money or anything like that, so later this evening, I’ll drop off a credit card for you to use for your daily expenses. It’s probably best if I don’t come upstairs, so I’m gonna leave the card with the concierge.”

  “I understand.” Holding the phone to her ear, Sexy paced from room to room, trying to figure out a way to con Randy into stopping by to see her later on. If only she could get him alone with her, she’d make him forget that his lying-ass, phony wife even existed.

  Running out of options, she had no choice but to resort to tears. “I can’t believe I’m never going to be with you again,” she blurted, sniffling and sobbing. “I realize it’s for the best, but I miss you already.” If Randy had been there in person, she would have flung herself into his arms and clung to him.

  “Sexy?” he said in a whispery, gentle tone.

  “Yes?” Certain that he’d had a change of heart, a smile spread across her face.

  “Um, there’s one more thing I have to say . . .”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to call me anymore.”

  Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped, as if she’d experienced a particularly vicious physical assault. “It’s gonna be hard not being able to hear your voice, but I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you really want.”

  “That’s the way it has to be.”

  “Okay, I’ll delete your number,” she said solemnly.

  “I’m really sorry, Sexy.”

  “I know you are.”

  Once again, she simulated sobbing sounds, only this time, she was much louder.

  “Please don’t cry, Sexy. One of these days, you’ll find a good man for yourself,” Randy said, attempting to console her.

  “No other man can take your place,” she said shrilly. Realizing her voice had emerged high-pitched and indignant, she softened her tone. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, Randy. No idea how much I love you. But you won’t have to worry about me contacting you again. Bye, Randy,” she said, choking out the last two words and then hanging up abruptly.

  Although she’d given Randy the impression that she couldn’t bear to linger on the phone with the man she’d loved and lost, the truth was, she had to rush to the nearest Planned Parenthood center before they closed for the day. Sexy had one more trick up her sleeve, and to pull it off, she needed an extra pack of birth control pills.

  * * *

  A shiver of excitement ran up Sexy’s spine as she bypassed the doorman by craftily blending in with a trio of leggy blondes who looked like a group of models as they entered the chic SoHo building where Randy and Cheryl lived. She made her way to the elevator, and the concierge, busy with a delivery person, didn’t seem to notice her.

  With the keys to the Alstons’ apartment in her Prada bag, Sexy could barely suppress a smile as the elevator ascended.

  Inside, she frowned as she took in the ridiculously large apartment that was decorated almost entirely in white. The stark white walls were adorned with white abstract prints. There was a white, L-shaped, sectional sofa placed on a huge black-and-white tribal rug. Oddly shaped white table lamps were set upon white tables. All that damn white was blinding. The only splashes of color were the overabundance of fresh-cut flower arrangements that were set in white vases throughout the apartment. There were so many flowers, the place held the heavy floral scent of a funeral parlor.

  Sexy would have had more time to snoop and get into mischief if Randy and Cheryl were out of town at an away-game, but being that they were only as far away as the Bronx at Yankee Stadium, she couldn’t risk dawdling and possibly getting caught.

  Still, she couldn’t resist taking a quick tour of the place, which was much larger and grander than the luxury apartment Randy had rented for her. Hmph! She’d make sure he made up for this slight in other ways.

  The white theme continued in the master suite with a white chaise lounge and antique chairs in the sitting area. And of course there were bouquets of flowers on every available surface. Geez! What is it with this chick and her obsession with flowers? In the bathroom, the cavernous shower was tiled with pearly white marble, and a white, excessively fluffy, sheepskin rug was placed on the floor outside the shower and a matching rug beside the sunken bathtub.

  Sexy took the pack of birth control pills from her bag and burst into laughter. Ironically, the ivory-colored birth control compact matched Cheryl’s color scheme perfectly.

  She considered hiding the pills in the medicine cabinet, but a cursory glance informed her that Cheryl would easily spot them inside the generously sized unit. She had to stash them in a place where they wouldn’t be easily noticed. But first things first. She marched to the kitchen. The place sparkled with stainless steel, top-of-the-line Viking appliances. She scanned the contents inside the stylish French-door refrigerator, trying to figure out what food to spike with the birth control pills she’d crushed up before leaving her apartment.

  But the fr
idge was poorly stocked with only low-fat yogurt, a few pieces of fruit, containers of arugula and other leafy greens, and a luxury brand of bottled water called Tasmanian Rain. Sexy sneered at the water that was packaged as attractively as an expensive bottle of wine. She’d heard about the trend among celebrities to drink pure rainwater, but Cheryl wasn’t a celebrity and she had a hell of a lot of nerve trying to act like one. Before she’d hoodwinked Randy into marrying her, Cheryl had merely been one of thousands of unknown models. And Sexy was certain her tastes hadn’t been so refined back when she was clawing her way through the competition to get the next moderately paying modeling gig.

  Aggravated, Sexy slammed the refrigerator closed and began searching the cabinets. She spotted a dark brown bag with a label that read: Ethiopian Fancy. Dark Roast Coffee.

  She recalled that this was the African coffee that Randy had mentioned when they were at the Empire State Building together. The same coffee that Cheryl was passionate about and drank several times a day. A sneaky smile crept across her face. I got you now, bitch!

  After mixing the crushed pills into the coffee grounds, Sexy traipsed down the long corridor, admiring the lithographs on the wall as she made her way back to the master suite to plant the compact that contained the remaining pills.

  Cheryl

  Two weeks later, Cheryl and Stephen were sitting in her living room sipping coffee and talking nonstop when Randy came in from the bedroom wearing his pajamas and robe.

  “Hey, baby. It’s about time you dragged yourself out of bed,” Cheryl said cheerfully. “Want some coffee?”

  “Cheryl, can I speak to you a moment?”

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” Stephen said irritably.

  Randy didn’t even bother looking at him. “Privately,” he said, heading back to the bedroom.