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After a night of mingling with a few of his white collar associates, Mack was pleasantly surprised by the amount of fun he was capable of having with them. He enjoyed being introduced to new forms of entertainment. He left the function inebriated and in a jovial mood. Instead of going home, he went to Sandra’s house.
Mack pushed a button in his Bentley Flying Spur. “Call Sa—.” Before issuing the command, he de-activated the call assist.
Since Sandra had been texting him throughout the day and he never responded, he figured it would be in his best interest to see her face to face. That way it would be easier to dodge any potential argument.
He eased the Bentley into the driveway, got out, and activated the alarm system. He rummaged through the numerous keys on his chain until he located the right one. The effects of the alcohol caused his balance to be slightly off. He stabilized himself enough to insert the key into the lock. With a few unsteady twists, the lock’s bolt receded. He turned the knob, opened the door, then stepped inside.
To his surprise, Sandra stood at the entrance wearing a red silk robe adorned with Oriental markings. Her hands were on her hips. Her face displayed a mixture of agitation and anger. Nonetheless, she was alluring.
“What are you doing?” she asked, holding her ground.
“Watchu talkin’ about?” Mack flashed an easy smile in an attempt to reduce the tension.
“I’ve been calling and texting your ass all day. Now, all of a sudden, you want to show up at three o’clock in the morning?” Noticing he wasn’t quite himself, she leaned in to get a better look at him. “Are you drunk?”
“Nope...I only had a little.” The slur in his words contradicted his reply.
“Mack, are you serious?” She shook her head in disgust. “I’m not going to keep going through this.” Sandra fought hard to hold back the tears that desperately wanted to escape.
“Going through what, babe?”
Sandra contemplated telling Mack everything that she knew. Things he wasn’t aware of himself. Should she let him know that she was aware of the multitude of women he was sleeping with while she remained faithful to him? Should she let him know that one of the women he had given himself to was her first cousin? Her own flesh and blood? That the brief affair resulted in her becoming pregnant? Should Sandra clue him in that she was a part of the devastating decision made to abort the pregnancy?
Sandra had lost relationships with both family and friends, all because she strongly believed that the love she so selflessly gave to Mack would someday be reciprocated. She believed that Mack loved her, but she knew that he wasn’t in love with her, as she was with him.
Sandra needed more. Living her life around heartache was breaking her. “What have I done for you to constantly hurt me like this? If you can’t love me the way I deserve to be loved, then let me go, Mack,” she pleaded.
“Baby, do you think I’m out to hurt you? Do you think that’s my intention? I would never want to cause you any pain. I know I haven’t been there for you like I’m supposed to, and I know I’m putting you through a lot, but just hold on for me. It’s going to get better, I promise.” He walked up to Sandra, pulling her into a warm, tight embrace.
“When?...When?” She was no longer able to restrain her tears as she sobbed into his chest. “I can’t take this anymore.”
Mack created just enough space between them to cup Sandra’s chin. He gently lifted her head until her teary eyes met his. “That’s it. No more hurt. I can’t stand to see you like this, baby. From now on I only want to bring joy into your life. That’s what you deserve. Give me one more chance and I’ll make your life so much better.”
Mack ended his words with a gentle kiss to her soft lips. He wiped the tears from her face, kissed her cheek, which led to another kiss on the nape of her neck. Sandra closed her eyes, embracing the pleasure. Her body temperature rose and her breathing became heavy. Mack allowed his hands to glide against her smooth silk robe, coming to a stop once they reached her soft, full breasts.
“I’m so sorry, Sandra,” he whispered between kisses. “I want you in my life forever...I love you.”
Caught completely in the moment, Sandra gave in to any thoughts of resistance.
Mack led her to the bedroom. He took his time giving every inch of her body much needed and pleasurable attention, before making passionate love to her until day began to break.
Around mid-afternoon, the smell of French toast, scrambled eggs and turkey bacon stirred Mack out of a deep slumber. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. Fully awake and refreshed, he followed the tantalizing aroma into the kitchen.
Sandra stood in front of the stove dressed in a sexy peach colored semi-translucent teddy and fur lined slippers. Mack slid up on her from behind, giving her plump, round ass a slap. She slightly jumped at the unexpected smack. He removed any space between them and softly kissed her neck.
“Damn, I’m the luckiest man in the world. I had desert last night and now I’m getting breakfast.”
“Don’t think you’re out of the dog house so soon, Mr. Smooth Talker. You’re far from it. We really have to talk and get an understanding. Can we discuss this over breakfast?”
“Are you serious?” Mack took a step back.
Sandra spun around, spatula in hand. “Damn right, I’m serious, Mack!”
He released a sigh of exasperation. “I think I better go take my medication.” He went into the dining room, rolled a blunt, turned the wall mounted TV on and smoked while surfing through the channels.
Ten minutes later, the food was finished and Mack was feeling good because of the potent weed. His attention was on a developing CNN story when Sandra brought in two plates of food. She placed one plate on the table in front of him, and then sat down next to him with her food.
With an invigorated appetite, Mack tore into his meal. Sandra picked and nibbled at hers. Her mind was more on making an attempt to mend their severely strained relationship.
Unsure of how to begin, Sandra simply allowed her heart to speak. “Mack, our relationship can be amazing if we’d just put more time into it. All I’m asking for is your heart. Instead of you telling me how much you love me, I want you to allow your actions to do the talking.”
“You’re right, Sandra. I can’t argue with that. I make a lot of bad choices, and I’m going to work on doing better.”
She held on tightly to his promise. “I just want you to trust in me, and the love that I have for you. If we can..." Sandra’s words trailed off into silence.
Mack’s attention was suddenly diverted when he heard CNN’s analyst begin to discuss recent trends in the stock market. The speaker talked about the top performing stocks of the month. Mack’s eyes were glued to the television once he saw that Western Union was the number two top performing stock. To his amazement, the woman mentioned her interest in investing in bonds over stocks for the near future.
Mack jumped up from his seat, sped to the bedroom, and removed his iPhone from his pants pocket. He dialed Terry’s number.
“Waddup?” Terry answered on the second ring.
“Yo, he was right!” Mack exclaimed.
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“The ol’ head from Starbucks. I was just watching the news and everything he said was right. I knew I should have put some money in those stocks.”
“Come on, Mack. That was just a lucky guess. That old drunk couldn’t tell his mouth from his ass. You need to be focused on this week coming up. The Cavaliers is playing the Sixers. That means it’s going to be a big bump in business. Plus, we gotta call a photographer to take some pictures of Dynasty for the advertisement.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Mack conceded. But deep down he had a feeling that the drunkard knew what he was talking about. That feeling morphed into a desire to speak with that man again.
After hanging up with Terry, he used his phone and did a Google search. Mack remembered the man’s first name but was having trouble recalling his last. He sat there brooding for a moment until the full name came to him. He keyed in: Marty Frankel.
Mack was astonished at what he saw. There was a picture of a fit, groomed and well dressed version of the man he encountered a few weeks before. He read the numerous articles that were published on Marty Frankel, amazed at how far the man had made it, only to fall to the depths of alcoholism and poverty.
For some reason, Mack had a strong feeling that the key to financial freedom was Marty’s brain. Continuing his online inquiry, he searched for Marty’s address. He found it. Fuck it, I’m going to go with my gut and see where it takes me, Mack said to himself while getting dressed.
He thought about Sandra and silently cursed for abruptly leaving her in mid conversation. “Sandra!” he yelled out. A moment later she walked into the bedroom. She said nothing. “Listen, baby. Something really important just came up. I have to go to New York.” He slipped on his Gucci loafers and searched for his keys while talking. “I know we didn’t finish our conversation, but when I come back we’re going on a vacation. Just you and I.”
“No, we’re not,” Sandra’s voice was low. She stared at the floor shaking her head.
“Yes, we are. I promise.” He finally found his keys.
“It’s over, Mack. Everything in your life is more important than me. No matter what I say, or try, it’s not going to change.”
Mack turned around and saw her eyes welling up. “Come on Sandra, don’t start that crying shit again. Why do you want to stress me out with all this drama?”
“I want you to get your clothes, guns, and everything else out of my house. It’ll be better if you live your life without me in it.”
Mack ran a hand over his face in frustration. “I’m not about to go through this shit with you right now, Sandra. As soon as I come back, we’ll talk.” Mack walked out of her room, and her house, once again, leaving Sandra alone.
––––––––
The Flying Spur’s navigation system led him directly to Marty’s address in New York City. After finding a safe place to park, he got out and walked into the outdated building. While walking up the five flights of decrepit stairs, he began to second guess his ambition to reacquaint himself with Marty. He slowly walked down the desolate hallway, coming to a stop once he reached apartment 44. Instead of giving the door a gentle rap, he knocked hard in hopes of receiving a quicker response.
“Go away!” a voice shouted from the inside.
“Marty, this is Sabrie Mack. I need to talk to you.”
“I said go away!”
“I drove all the way from Philly to make you rich again and I’m not leaving until I talk to you!” Silence consumed the hallway for a moment. Then, Mack heard the two dead bolts unfasten. The door cracked open as far as the interior chain lock allowed. A scruffy bearded man peeked a skeptical eye through the opening.
“Well, if it ain’t the ding bat from Starbucks. You’re going to make me rich? You couldn’t come up with a hundred dollars if someone stuffed it into your pocket.” Marty laughed and slammed the door shut. Mack could hear Marty’s bellowing grow faint as he descended further into the apartment.
“Shit!” Mack swore. He banged on the door again. This time he pounded harder than the first. He heard footsteps as Marty stomped toward the door. He snatched the door open with an erupting attitude.
“What the...” his words were halted. His eyes were transfixed on what Mack held in his hand.
“I reached in my pocket and found this.” Mack held a large, folded wad of bills. “This is five thousand dollars. You can have it if you give me thirty minutes of your time.”
“Listen, kid. I don’t know what kind of games you’re playing, but..."
“I didn’t drive this far to play games with you. Here.” Mack stuffed the money through the door’s opening. With lightning speed, Marty snatched the money out of Mack’s hand, then slammed the door shut.
“I know this mutha fucka ain’t tryin’ to play me,” Mack blurted out. Just then the door opened.
“Come in. You’ve got thirty minutes...not a second more.”
Walking into the apartment, Mack looked around, repulsed at the foul condition Marty had become content with living in. “I’m going to get straight to the point. You gave me some good advice at the coffee shop. Had I listened, I would have been a little richer. I checked you out and you’re official. After that scandal broke out at the company you worked for, you allowed yourself to sink. Call me crazy, but I believe that even though your spirits are weak, your brain still has strength.”
“You think that just because you read a few articles about me that you can summarize my life? You have no idea what I’ve been through!” Marty was livid. He reached for a half empty bottle of cheap vodka, removed the top and chugged a huge portion. “I’ve been stabbed in the back by everyone in my life. I was loyal to all of them!” he ranted emotionally.
“You’re right. I don’t know you or all that you’ve been through. But you can’t keep living in the past and you definitely can’t keep drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Listen man, I’m no mentor. All I know is I have the financial ability to put you back in the game. I think you have the mindset to rise to the top again. But there’s no way I’m going to invest in a loser. And keeping it real, right now that’s what you are.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think!” Marty took another gulp.
“I know you don’t. You don’t give a fuck about anything. Not even yourself. But the only way you’ll have a chance at turning your life back around is if you start giving a rat’s ass.”
Mack’s words seemed to effectively penetrate Marty’s wall of denial. He remained humbly quiet as Mack continued. Marty slowly opened up and shared his crushing past with Mack, who listened intently. The release of his accumulated hurt, anger and disappointment actually caused Marty to feel a little better about himself. Mack understood that their conversation was the first step in a long journey, but it was a step that Marty willingly took. It signified that Marty wanted change. The question was if he was prepared for the change.
“Let me ask you a question,” Mack said. “Do you think you can leave the alcohol alone?”
“The easy answer is ‘yes’, but the honest answer is ‘it’s possible’. I know deep down I can do it, but I know it’s going to take a lot of hard work and commitment.”
“In order to leave the liquor alone you’ll have to make the decision to stop wasting your life and find your purpose.”
“I agree.”
“If I had fifty thousand dollars to invest in you, do you think you could turn a profit with it?”
“I didn’t lose my career because I wasn’t good enough, I lost it because of misguided trust and naivety. I was one of the best in my field...I still am. If you believe in me enough to invest fifty thousand dollars, I promise that I will make you a rich man.”
“Alright. I’ll invest the money into you and we’ll split the profits three ways; between you, myself and my friend that I was with at the coffee shop. But this can only be done under one condition: you have to get yourself together. I have to know that you are going to be committed. You have five grand. It’s yours to use any way you want. I just hope you use it to better yourself. I’m going to check up on you in three weeks. If you’re straightened up and sober when I come back, then we have a deal. If you’re not, then it’ll show you never wanted change and we’ll move on with our lives.”
They sealed the deal by shaking hands. They conversed a little more, afterwards Mack left the apartment building and New York City...