Free Sinful by Victor McGlothin Page B

mouth, like a 7-year-old playing a quiet game. Chandelle gave the odd scene a once over, then lowered her purse to the floor. She called Dior’s name, this time with disbelief written all over her face. “Uhm, what are y’all doing back here?” she asked the both of them at once, although her stern tone was directed at the woman she hadn’t seen before. Neither of them moved, so Chandelle motioned with her hand for Dior to come forth. The piecing stare she shot at Rosalind held her at bay for the time being. “What’s this about?”
    â€œMrs. Rosalind Jennings,” answered Dior, humiliated by Chandelle’s presence but thankful for it simultaneously. “She’s the lady I was working for as a nanny, only she didn’t like it that I quit.”
    â€œWho’re you supposed to be, Dior’s girlfriend?” Rosalind huffed, as she made a sudden move to exit the stall.
    â€œNaw, you got me messed up,” Chandelle replied, refusing to let her pass. “See, I’m the cousin about to break you down.” She glanced at Dior to question why she allowed another woman to play her weak. “Dee, tell me why you’re afraid of her? What’s she holding over you?”
    Dior exhaled like she’d rather not say, but Chandelle had sufficiently taken over the situation leaving her no choice. “She’s been leaving messages on my phone and on my car saying if I don’t come back to work she’ll make life hard on me or worse. That’s why I wouldn’t let you drop me by the apartment. Chandelle, she won’t let me out.”
    â€œWon’t let you?” Chandelle barked heatedly. “You’re a grownup, Dior.
    â€œPlease tell her I don’t want to be a nanny no more,” Dior whined.
    â€œYou tell her yourself, once and for all. Here and now.”
    â€œMrs. Jennings, you can tell your husband that I’m through with that life and I mean it,” she spouted with a renewed assurance.
    â€œWe’ll just see about that,” Rosalind challenged, with both arms folded. She talked tough but at no time did she try to run over Chandelle the same way she’d manipulated Dior.
    â€œWant to see about it now?” Chandelle offered boldly. “Right now, we can iron out any misunderstandings you might have concerning ever coming around my family again. I’m not above breaking the law to end this if I have to. Believe you me, there’re lots of us, and we don’t scare so easy. You can bet your life on that.” Chandelle felt Sally standing behind her. She raised her hand, signaling that she had a handle on things. “Mrs. Robinson or whatever you call yourself, I will not entertain having this discussion again. You can go now.” As soon as Chandelle stepped aside, the disgruntled socialite stormed away before experiencing firsthand the willful woes of a South Dallas “breakdown.”
    Sally made sure that Rosalind left the store before calling off the dogs. She didn’t know Chandelle possessed street savvy beneath her polished veneer. “Wow, I’m impressed,” she ranted upon returning. “The sistah’s got skills,” she joked. “Call me on Tuesday. I’ll have a package waiting for you.”
    Chandelle was so angry with Dior that she could spit nails. “Yeah, thanks, Sally,” she groaned, while catching her breath. “But right now someone’s got a lot of explaining to do.”
    After Chandelle literally dragged her to the car by the nape of her neck, Dior did explain, as best she could, how she managed to get her life jammed up in lustful, triangular vice. “I know you’re mad at me, Chandelle, but you didn’t have to pull me out here like I was a stupid kid. I never planned on getting involved with the Jennings past looking after their two children. When Rosalind’s husband, Paul, started peeping the way I walked, it was kinda