Sugar & Spice Chapter 6

LOOKING IN THE MIRROR, I could still see some of the dark bruise from the broken jaw I sustained last month. I had been in a barroom brawl at a jook joint called, The Spot in Lower Manhattan. I picked up my toothbrush and dabbed it with some Colgate gel before putting it into my mouth.

The vestiges of After 7's, Ready or Not played softly on the clock radio when I turned it on. I loved that song. While I brushed my teeth, I thought about the murdered warden and his wife. I knew I was on vacation, but I was still an FBI agent and the murders had puzzled me the entire day. The piece in the USA Today led me to believe that the warden and his wife were killed for personal reasons. Otherwise, why leave the drugs? And more important, why leave the money? The killer must have wanted the authorities to know that the warden was involved in the drug trade. That was the only thing that made sense to me.

"How long you gon' be in here?" I heard my husband ask me.

I could see his image in the mirror. He was leaning against the opening of the bathroom, wearing a pair of navy briefs that hugged his tight loins.

"Not long," I said after spiting out the used Colgate.

"You thinkin' about those DC murders?" He asked. But it seemed to be more of a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah." I answered. "Have you given it much thought?"

"Some, but not much. I'm on vacation." He said sarcastically.

I stopped brushing for a second and looked into his brown eyes to see if he was angry with me. He folded his massive arms and a smile emerged. One of the things that had bothered him was all the hours that I spent working my cases. You would think he'd understand, having been an agent himself. But it's like that when you're a woman. Men expect everything from you regardless of your chosen vocation.

"We're going back to Washington tomorrow. Our vacation is just about over. So please don't give me attitude, hear?"

"You ready to get back to work, huh?"

"Yes," I told him. "Too much vacation can wear a sista out."

"Savannah's asleep," he said.

My husband was telling me that he expected to get some on our last night before going home. And there was no way I was going to get out of it, not that I wanted to. I smiled at him, and then spit the residual toothpaste into the basin. Keyth walked up behind me and rubbed himself against me. I wiped my mouth and smiled again.

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