The Perfect Affair

by Lutishia Lovely

  “And you didn’t go to her room?”

  “Sherri . . .”

  “Look. Don’t get mad at me because I’m asking questions. It’s because of something you did that we’re in this mess.”

  “That’s just it. I haven’t done anything.”

  Sherri shook her head, walking to the door. “Well, I guess if that’s true, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Still angry, Sherri went downstairs to find Blair. She found her doing homework at the breakfast nook. She sat down. “Blair, I need to ask you something.”

  “Sure, Sherri.” Blair put down her book.

  “Did anyone come by here while Randall and I were gone?”

  Blair thought for a moment. “No, no one except the delivery guys. We ordered takeout both nights, as you suggested.”

  “The people who delivered the food were guys?” Blair nodded, so Sherri asked, “And no one else that you know of came in the house?”

  “Uh-uh. Oh, wait, except the housekeeper.”

  “That’s not unusual. Lucia comes here every week.”

  “It wasn’t Lucia.”

  Sherri’s head shot up. “It wasn’t? Then who was it?”

  “A substitute named Ruth. Lucia was sick.”

  Sherri tried to remain calm as she reached for Blair’s iPad. “Can I see this for a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  Sherri went to a search engine and typed in a name. She clicked on images and soon saw the face that she’d wanted to slap just hours ago. She turned the iPad around. “Is this her?”

  “Who?”

  “The woman who came to clean the house.”

  Blair burst out laughing but quit as soon as she caught Sherri’s unsmiling face. “I’m sorry for laughing, Sherri, but, no. Ruth looked nothing like this woman. This woman is gorgeous!”

  Gritting her teeth, Sherri ignored the comment. “What did Ruth look like?”

  “She was really plain: short hair, no makeup, glasses and really stained teeth. Oh, and she had an accent. She’s from Belize.”

  Sherri exhaled, but her relief was short-lived. If Jacqueline hadn’t sneaked into the home unnoticed, how did she know theirs was a four-poster bed? A lucky guess? That was a possibility, but one that Sherri found highly doubtful. Randall swore he’d never sexed her. For now, she believed her husband. But where there was smoke, there was fire, and Sherri vowed to herself to not stop digging until she found the source of the flame.

  Jacqueline stood back and admired her handiwork. All those years watching Phillip fiddle with computer hardware and software, and the recent crash courses with his partner, Marco, had definitely paid off. Setting up the network had been easier than she thought, especially since, not wanting anyone privy to her actions, she decided to tackle the installation alone. Now seven screens sat glowing before her, showing all of the key areas of the Atwater house. She’d just overheard Randall and Sherri’s heated exchange. When Sherri disappeared from the bedroom camera and reappeared in the kitchen, Jacqueline reached for another knob and turned up the volume. She listened intently.

  “What did Ruth look like?”

  “She was really plain: short hair, no makeup, glasses, and really stained teeth. Oh, and she had an accent. She’s from Belize.”

  When Sherri’s conversation went from questions about the cleaning lady to the next day’s activities, Jacqueline relaxed. “You’re so stupid,” she spat at the TV screen. “So easy to manipulate. Anybody with an ounce of intellect would have called the cleaning company, confirmed the substitution. That’s why this stuff is so easy.” She continued to mutter as she turned her attention back to the screen where the Atwater master suite was displayed. “All it took was a phone call and five hundred dollars and I was able to stop good old Lucia at the community gate.”

  She watched Randall pace from one side of the room to the other, stopping at various points while deep in thought.

  “Are you thinking about me, baby?” Jacqueline asked, her fingers searching for and finding nipples that she slowly rubbed into hardened peaks. “I bet you are. I’m thinking about you too. I know you miss me. And the very next time I get the chance to see you, I’m sure you’ll show me just how much.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Sherri looked across the peaceful-looking pond with a sense of irony, considering her life was anything but.

  “Sherri,” she heard Renee say into her earbud, “you still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “I asked if you really think he’s cheating?”

  “I don’t want to, but that’s the only explanation that makes sense. I’ve thought about this until my head hurts, and no matter how I try to rationalize it, everything points to Randall cheating on me. With Jacqueline. In our home.” Renee remained quiet. “Think about it, Nay. What woman do you know who’d go to another woman’s house and confront her about a man if there wasn’t something to her accusations? And that she talked about our bed, right down to the TempurPedic mattress—well, that is just something I can’t ignore.”

  “But except for that one indiscretion, Sherri, Randall has never lied to you.”

  “Not until lately. If you’ll remember, it was only a month or so ago I was telling you about a strange incident that occurred when I happened upon him in his office early one morning. Remember how I said he was talking to someone about money or a bank statement or something, and then stopped when I walked in?”

  “Right. And he said it was business.”

  “Exactly. Just like he told me his interaction with Jacqueline was business. Until it wasn’t.”

  “I’m so sorry this is happening, Sherri. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do,” Sherri said, rising up from the bench and beginning the short walk back to her house. “I’m not going to stand back quietly if I learn my husband has been unfaithful. If I find out Randall was with her, Renee, no matter whether it was once or a dozen times, things in our household will definitely change.”

  As she walked, Sherri thought back to the conversation she’d had with her daughter, when she’d so confidently assured Albany that in the Atwater family there would be no divorce. That every set of parents had their differences, but her parents’ union was solid as a rock. Sherri hated to admit it, but she couldn’t lie to herself: this rock had a crack in it . . . a big one.

  The phone was ringing when she reached the patio door. She hurried inside to the kitchen and pushed the speaker button on the phone on the counter. “Hey, Brother,” she said after seeing Nathan’s name on the caller ID. “What’s going on?”

  “I found an agency that I believe fits our needs where Mom is concerned. Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, go to this website.” He gave her the name of a top-rated agency in North Carolina. “Check out their information and if you agree that they’re a fit, can you give them a call?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I have meetings all afternoon. But keep me posted on what you find out.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Nate.”

  “You’re welcome, Sis. Love you.”

  “Love you back.”

  After returning a few calls regarding her career search, and meeting with the chef regarding the night’s menu, she returned to her suite upstairs. Getting comfy on a chaise in the sitting area, she pulled out her iPad and read the information on the agency website that Nathan had suggested. The company had been around for twenty-five years, had stellar reviews and a good Better Business Bureau rating. She picked up the phone without hesitation and dialed the number. With her own life spiraling like crazy, it felt good to find an area where she felt in control.

  “Hello,” she said once her call was answered. “My name is Sherri Atwater. I’m calling to possibly hire a full-time, live-in assistant for my mom.” She put the call on speaker and reached for a bottle of water. “Yes, she lives there in North Carolina.”

  “What is
her medical condition, ma’am?” the woman asked, her voice calm and reassuring, her Southern accent pronounced.

  Sherri gave her a brief rundown of what had been happening with her mother. “She has good and bad days,” she finished. “But because the neighbor who’s been our eyes and ears will no longer be there regularly, my brother and I will just feel better knowing there is someone else in the house.”

  “Could you give me your mother’s information so that we can schedule an on-site visit for the initial screening?”

  “Sure, it’s Elaine Carver and her address is five-five-seven-two . . .”

  On the other side of town, as Sherri relayed this information, Jacqueline sat looking at and listening to the camera she’d placed in the Atwaters’ master suite, carefully making note of everything that she heard. She didn’t know why, couldn’t think of a reason why information on some old lady in another state might be important. But one thing being a writer had taught her was to always gather as much information as you could, no matter how seemingly trivial. She’d practiced it throughout her short career, and more than once it had paid off. She thought that now might be one of those times.

  After saving the document to her computer, and determining that nothing of interest was happening on any of the other six screens, Jacqueline rose, stretched, and walked from the guest-bedroom-turned-spy-headquarters into Phillip’s modern, seldom-used kitchen. True to his word, he’d only been there a day or two since letting her stay with him. Having met Marco, she understood why. He was as beautiful as Phillip, with stark black hair and deep blue eyes. Too bad they were gay. If more men like them were available to more women like her, she might not have to chase married guys.

  Not seeing each other hadn’t interfered with Jacqueline’s ability to help him finish his website. After helping her with the initial design, Phillip would send requests for promotional material as well. She’d write a couple variations of what he requested and send it back. Her part in their website project was almost complete.

  She stood in front of the open fridge, eyeing her options. In all of her running back and forth to electronics, furniture, and office supply stores, she’d forgotten about food. She looked at her watch. Four thirty, not exactly the time she wanted to tackle the streets of D.C. She grabbed a bottle of soda from the refrigerator before moving to the cabinets, where she was rewarded with a can of minestrone soup. She poured the contents into a bowl and set it in the microwave. After finding a box of crackers, she placed them, the piping hot bowl of soup, and a bottle of water on a tray and walked into the living room. She’d just sat down in front of Phillip’s fifty-five-inch television when her phone rang.

  “Dr. Atwater? Are you sure you have the right number?”

  “Jacqueline, we need to talk.”

  “It’s too late for that. You said you’d call when you returned from Vegas . . . promised me that we’d have lunch.”

  “Your showing up at our private residence changed those plans.”

  “How is Sherri? Are she and the kids all right? What about those cute little doggies. I hear shepherds are a great breed.”

  “How do you know about our dogs?”

  Jacqueline winced behind her clumsy snafu. “I guess you forgot that you told me about them just like how you forgot that we shared a bed.”

  “I don’t know what I did to cause you to do this, but I want to apologize,” Randall said, his voice sounding authoritative and sincere. “If you think I led you on, if my flirting was inappropriate, whatever the reason this . . . misunderstanding . . . has occurred, I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you or mislead you. I’m sorry that you feel ours was anything but a professional relationship and that my taking you out to dinner was anything more than saying thanks for a great interview.”

  “A thank you, huh? Prematurely perhaps; the article hasn’t even been finished, let alone published.”

  “I need for us to come to a resolution in this matter so we can make this right with my wife.”

  “Ah, so that’s it. I was sitting here wondering why on earth a person who lied about calling me, lied about wanting to talk to me, and had me barred from an office building would contact me now. I have my answer. Because you’re unhappy that I shared our romance with your precious wife.”

  “That’s just it, Jacqueline. There is no romance. There never was.”

  “Liar!”

  “Jacqueline, please . . .”

  “You slept with me! And you loved every minute of it.”

  “Jacqueline, you’ve got to stop this. We’ve never had sex.”

  “Just because you’re regretting it, Randall, doesn’t mean it isn’t so. I had you all to myself for six glorious nights in LA, and the few other times we’ve gotten together since then isn’t enough for me. I’m sorry, but it isn’t.” He remained silent. She continued. “You’re denying our love. Are you also denying that you find me attractive?”

  A long pause and then, “You’re very attractive, Jacqueline. I told Sherri as much.”

  “Well, tell me this. If Sherri wasn’t in the picture, if you were a single man, would there be a chance for me?”

  “I don’t see the benefit of talking about what isn’t and what can never be. I’m calling to apologize, and to ask you to tell Sherri that you lied about our sleeping together in my home. And you need to tell her how you knew what type of bed is in our room.”

  Jacqueline’s laugh was genuine. “When I said four-poster, Randall, you should have seen the look on her face!” Silence on the other end. It was obvious that she and the mad scientist didn’t share the same sense of humor. “Tell her it was just a lucky guess. I figured it was either a four-poster, platform, or canopy, and hey, anybody who loves a good night’s sleep owns the country’s number one bed.”

  “Jacqueline, you are smart and talented, with a great personality. You could have your pick of any single man out there. I’m married. I love my family. And I need you to tell Sherri what you just told me. I need you to tell her the truth.”

  “Sure, Randall.”

  Another long pause and then, “Really? You’ll tell her? I can do a conference call right now.”

  “I’ll tell her that lie when you tell her the truth about us.” Then she disconnected the call.

  Soup and soda forgotten, she reentered her “lab.” She fired up the screens showing views of various areas of Randall’s home and turned up the volume on all of the microphones. She did this and thought about what Randall had said. More importantly, she thought about what he didn’t say but she knew he was feeling in his heart.

  He wanted her, there was no doubt. If he weren’t married, if Sherri was out of the picture, then Randall would choose to be with her. Of this, she was certain. Jacqueline leaned forward, watching as Sherri talked on the phone to her brother. But she only half listened. There was only one thing on her mind: being with Randall. And there was only one obstacle in the way of their happiness: Sherri. Jacqueline was determined that in the not too distant future, this minor inconvenience would be moved out of the way.

  CHAPTER 38

  “I called her, man.” It was six thirty in the evening, and Randall was still in his office. Someone watching might have speculated that he was hiding out, afraid to go home. He chose to use the term “strategizing.”

  “Aw, man,” James replied. “Do you think that was a good idea?”

  “Honestly, James, everything is so crazy. I don’t know what to think right now.”

  “What happened when y’all talked?”

  “I can’t tell whether she’s just good at lying or she really believes it, but she swears we slept together, man, and that’s just bull.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Don’t you start going there too, man. I seriously need somebody in my corner right now.”

  “I’m on your side, bro. Trust me on that. But y’all were hanging pretty tough in LA, which is why I warned you about it. Is there any chance, any chance at all, that you drank a
little too much, went a little too far . . .”

  Is that possible? Randall thought for a moment. He’d never been able to hold his liquor, which is one reason he didn’t drink that much. Could I have drunk too much of something and effed that chick?

  “No! I’m 150 percent sure that I never had a sexual encounter of any kind with Jacqueline. We didn’t even so much as share a passionate kiss. Nothing.”

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you, man.”

  James fell silent. Randall got up to pace his office, looking out on a waning sun in the late June sky. He watched people caught up in their own dramas: walking or driving by, talking on cell phones, waiting at bus stops, living their lives. He wondered if anybody was dealing with anything remotely as crazy as the scenario that had entered his life. He doubted it.

  “Let me ask you something, Randall.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you know anyone who knows Jacqueline, I mean, outside of a professional environment?”

  “No. Like I said, I’ve only dealt with her professionally.” Randall came back to his desk and sat behind it. “Except for that night when Sherri and I ran into her at the restaurant. She was with her friend Peter. No, wait. His name is Phillip. I don’t have a last name though. Why, what are you thinking?”

  “Between your profile in our community and the magazine articles, there’s a lot of information on you out there. But what do you know about her?”

  Randall sat up. James had a point. Besides the fact that she was beautiful, intelligent, and freelanced for the magazine Science Today, he didn’t know much.

  “You know what, James? I think you’re on to something. I don’t know anything about her, and it’s time I did.”