“Well that’s a story.”
Chapter 34
Rhonda herself had discovered the truth about a year ago while searching through his office. She found a small figurine of a cobra in his desk drawer. Seeing the cobra shot her heart rate through the roof and made her hairline sweat. It was instantly recognizable—a symbol she had seen in many places throughout her life, including tattooed on the neck of the man that had raped her when she was 15. When she saw the figurine, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Why was it in Hunter’s desk? She left the figurine where she found it, and did what every smart woman would do when suspicious of her husband. She placed a hidden camera behind a vent in a wall of his office. She placed it just so, so she had a clear view of the office and desk and, as long as the heat or air conditioner weren’t on, she could hear pretty much everything that was said.
She began watching endless footage of her husband. She watched him sitting at his desk, typing on his computer. She watched him on the phone and meeting with constituents. A few times she even watched him taking a nap. On the city’s dollar! She clucked her tongue at her lazy husband.
Most of the footage was uneventful. After several sleepless nights and a few warnings from her boss that she was taking too long of breaks at work, she almost stopped watching. But then, her husband received a visit from someone who looked rather different from his usual visitors. Most people who came to see him wore suits, or at least a collared shirt. This visitor wore black. Black pants, a black t-shirt. The only color was a green bandana tied around his wrist. Rhonda recognized the bandana. Everyone in Harlem knew what it meant. Only members of the Cobras could wear it. If you weren’t a member and were brave enough to be seen with a green bandana, well, you could be sure you wouldn’t have an arm to wear it on by the next day.
The man—if Rhonda could call him that—he looked like a young boy—placed a thick envelope in Hunter’s hand. “Bumpy says thanks. You did good, H-man.” The boy in the bandana left and Hunter moved a framed map of the city to show a safe behind it, where he put the envelop. Rhonda had no idea who Bumpy was, or why he was thanking Hunter. It even took her a few moments to understand who H-man was. But this was enough for her to keep watching.
Over the next few weeks, she watched different members of the Cobras come in and out of Hunter’s office and hand him envelopes that he continued to store away in his safe. Rhonda even once snuck into the office to try to open the safe, but she knew the key was with Hunter and she really had no idea how to pick a lock. Watching her husband meet with members of the Cobras made her blood boil. Her rapist was a Cobra. All the Cobras were rapists—that was their initiation. It was a known fact in Harlem. What was her husband doing with them?
In the meantime, Hunter had started buying her more and more jewelry. Every week there would be a new box left for her on the table. One time it was earrings, another a gold bracelet. They were beautiful and Rhonda really wanted to wear them, but she couldn’t. How could she wear something bought with money from her rapist? Hunter often asked her why she didn’t wear them, he offered to exchange them, but Rhonda just lied and said she was saving them for special occasions.
This went on for a few months, long enough that Rhonda began being tempted enough to start wearing the jewelry. In fact, she had barely closed the clasp of a new necklace when Hunter came home early from work. “It is so beautiful,” she said to him. He was sweaty and his face seemed to droop when she said it.
He gave a loud sigh. “I need it back. All of it.”
“No, I promise I’ll wear it! I’ll wear it all! Here, I’ll put those earrings on now,” she responded, thinking he was punishing her for not wearing his gifts with pride.
“No!” he yelled. “Give it all back to me.” He lunged for her jewelry box and scooped it under his arm. “The necklace too. Give it to me.” Rhonda suddenly became very afraid of her husband. Her hands shook as she unfastened the shining necklace from around her neck and handed it to her husband who disappeared with the jewelry.
As soon as the front door clicked closed, Rhonda jumped for her cellphone to check the footage from her camera. She hadn’t watched in a while, having gotten bored of seeing her husband rotate from sitting at his desk, to sitting at the table, to napping. It felt like a movie she had seen over and over and knew the lines by heart. She opened her phone and started watched footage from that day. She saw the usual movements in his office, visitors, phone calls, typing on the computer. Then the boy in the green bandana came in.
“Bumpy is not happy.” The boy said. “Deadline is tonight. Got it?” In the video, Hunter nodded.
Rhonda didn’t understand, so she started going back further in the footage. She found another meeting with the Cobra member.
“What the fuck, H-man?” the boy said. “Dreads got life. You said this was cake. Bumpy says he expects you to return everything. With interest.”
“Bro, I can only do so much. I talked to the judge,” Hunter reasoned.
“Bumpy doesn’t care. You are no longer useful to the Cobras. And you know what happens to useless assets. How’s Rhonda, by the
