“No, why do you ask?”
“I have a habit of talking too much. I’m a little sensitive about it, as you can imagine with such an unfortunate name.”
“What’s unfortunate about Brooke?”
“Brooke? Nothing. But Brooke Bass?” Brooke raised her eyebrows as if to say “Get it?” Seeing Evelyn’s blank stare, she explained. “As in Big Mouth Bass? That’s what they called me in grade school, until I got to high school. Then it was Big Boobs Bass. I’ve always hated my name.”
Connie walked in and saw them cutting the bubble wrap. “Don’t bother,” she said. “I still have to take them to be scanned.”
“These are all the ones from my parents’ house,” Evelyn said. “My father is still trying to get some from friends. Then there’re all those at the office.”
Evelyn invited Connie and Brooke out to lunch, as though she suspected nothing. Connie accepted, but told Brooke she had to man the store while they were gone. Evelyn registered Brooke’s distress, and realized that Brooke was only worried for her. It was touching. Maybe she really was a friend.
Over lunch and margaritas at Chevy’s, Connie asked, “You’re going ahead with this then?”
“I think so. Howard’s against it. He won’t help at all, but I’ll have you and my father to advise me, so yeah, I think I’d regret it if I didn’t at least give it a shot.”
“Good, and I wouldn’t worry about Howard. Men don’t often see the big picture. Have you ever run a business by yourself?”
“No, never. It’s a little bit daunting.”
“It’ll be good for you, you’ll see. Running a business is a challenge, but it’s so satisfying. I know there’ll be times when you’ll curse me for getting you into it…”
I’ll curse you for more than that, Evelyn thought, and I’ll thank Brooke for the idea.
“...but in the long run, you’ll thank me for it.”
Maybe she really is doing this to assuage her conscience, the home-wrecking little cunt, Evelyn thought, smiling with as much sincerity as she could muster, while the picture of Connie’s glistening twat danced in her head. Come and get it! Oh yes, Howard would come running.
She was in a surprisingly good mood. All of the negative emotions had been dispelled in favor of a cool, calculating assessment of the strength of her adversaries. She felt like a spy in enemy territory. There was something liberating about playing a part, about being an actress in your own drama. She was in no rush. She was in the intelligence-gathering phase of the operation.
They chatted over the drinks, chips, and salsa. Their entrées arrived — Evelyn had enchiladas, and Connie tacos. If God didn’t want us to eat pussy, why’d he make it look like a taco? Midway through her second margarita, Connie excused herself to go to the “little girls’ room.” She took her purse with her, but she left her phone face-up beside her plate. Evelyn was almost astounded by her good luck, but she was beginning to think there was no such thing as luck. There were forces at work, and now that she’d actively assumed her part and stepped onto the big stage, the drama would play out at a predictably measured pace. She watched until Connie turned the corner, then opened her Friend Finder app and sent a Friend Request. The app on Connie’s phone asked, “Would you like to share your location with Evelyn Marsh?” She tapped Yes. A message pinged on Connie’s phone. It read, “Evelyn Marsh is now following you on Friend Finder.” She deleted the message and placed the phone face-up beside Connie’s plate. Then she tapped Connie’s name in her Friend Finder app. It was working perfectly.
Connie saw the phone in Evelyn’s hand. “Did you get a call?”
“No, just checking on Sam. She’s having a fun time in Paris.”
The conversation then meandered into the subject of travel. Connie’s phone chimed. “Sorry, a client. Let me just answer this message,” she said. Her thumbs tapped out the words.
It’s probably Howard, Evelyn thought. Come and get it!
Connie put the phone down. “I’ve never been to Paris. I’m not really into cities. My favorite vacation was to Aruba. Albert and I stayed in the poshest resort.”
Evelyn’s phone chimed. She looked at the message: “Don’t bother making dinner. I have to finish drafting a lease. Then I’m going to the gym. I’ll be home late.”
“Problem?” Connie asked.
“No, just Howard working late again.”
“That man works too hard.”
“Tell me about it,” Evelyn said with just a hint of sarcasm. It’s such hard work getting your rocks off. “My father kept a strict schedule, nine to five thirty. He never worked past six at the latest, and he never brought work home. I wish Howard would take the hint.”
“Better a workaholic than a lazy bum, I always say.”
Ramon’s truck was parked by the front walk, blocking the drive to the garage. She had no wish to see him. If she’d been another sort of woman, she might have taken him to bed to spite Howard, but she didn’t yet want to stoop to his level, or give him anything he could throw back in her face. Ramon and Howard and Connie were all alike in one respect: they were opportunists with no regard for the wreckage they might leave behind. No, she had to retract the thought. In Ramon’s case, that was unfair. She was just as guilty for pushing the flirtation too far. But nothing had happened she had to be (too) ashamed of (yet), and she wanted to keep it that way. She backed out of the driveway and drove to the market to pick up something for dinner.
When she returned home, she found Ramon had slipped a note into the front doorjamb. “Missed you today. I hope you’ve had some time to look over the prospectus. I’d like to talk to you about it. I have some exciting news that may be of interest to you.” Evelyn crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. Ramon was becoming tiresome. She had more important fish to fry.
At 6:00 p.m. she checked her Friend Finder. Sam was fast asleep; it was 3:00 a.m. in Paris. Brooke was just leaving the gallery. Connie and Howard were together on Davidson Street.
Evelyn considered her next moves. She thought she might benefit from a visit to a divorce attorney. She would have to look into that, but for now it could wait.
Howard came home after 8:00 p.m.
“Have a hard day?” Evelyn asked. You despicable prick.
“Same ol’, same ol’. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Howard’s affair had been going on for months; she was sure of it. Probably not long after Sam had left for UCLA in the fall. A reconciliation was out of the question. Trust was a fragile thing, and like Humpty Dumpty it couldn’t be put together again. For all she knew, he had been cheating for years. And since she would never know for sure, she couldn’t trust a word he said.
But she had no intention of meekly stepping aside and allowing Connie to become the second Mrs. Marsh. They seemed to think they could walk all over her with impunity. She’d never thought of herself as a mousey pushover, so why were they treating her with such disregard? Did either one of them think about how it would affect her children? Did they think they’d never get caught? They were like willful five-year-olds who couldn’t resist the cookies, acting without considering the consequences. But unlike five-year-olds, they should have known better, and she wouldn’t let them get away with it. They needed to be punished. It also didn’t matter how long it might take before she found a way to exact justice. It might take months. She didn’t really care. She was tired of being underestimated, underappreciated, and dismissed as a minor player in her own life. She would have her revenge.
She saw Howard off to work, if anything more attentive than usual. Midmorning found her kneeling in the herb garden.
“You look beautiful on your knees,” Ramon said.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She really didn’t want to talk to him. “You should have called ahead. You shouldn’t just show up unannounce
d.”
“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
“Yes, it is. I have a lot on my mind, and I don’t want to hear your salesman’s pitch at the moment.”
It was a harsh thing to say, but it was honest. She grasped the top of a weed, loosened the soil around its roots with a trowel, and pulled it from the ground.
“I can see this is a bad time. I just wanted to know if you’ve read...”
“Your damned prospectus, and the answer is no. I don’t have any interest in going into business with you.”
Ramon was silent for long moment. Finally he said, “I’m not asking for your help. I’m offering you an opportunity. I’m just looking for some investment capital on a project that will bring both of us a steady income. Wouldn’t you like a passive income? Something that generates income while you’re sleeping?”
“I don’t need an investment,” she said sarcastically. “I have a husband who generates income. Anyway, I don’t have the money.”
“Oh, I think you do. You said yourself, you’re going into business.”
“Yes, and I need that money to get the business going,” she explained, a little peeved at having to justify herself to the pool boy. Who the hell does he think he is?
Ramon rolled his eyes heavenward, as though frustrated by his inability to get through to this dimwitted woman. He shook his head. “Why is it you rich people always refuse to listen until you’re forced to, even when it’s in your own best interests? I’m bringing you an opportunity.”
Evelyn stood up, trowel in hand, annoyed now. “Oh for gods’ sakes, I’m not interested. Don’t bother me with this anymore. Or maybe we should just terminate our relationship entirely.” She could see a flash of anger in his eyes. He hesitated, deliberating. Then a small, disparaging smile twisted his lips as he made a decision.
“I could make money posting videos to certain websites.”
“Good, then why don’t you just do that?”
“It would take too long. The right opportunity doesn’t come around every day.”
“You’re young; you have plenty of time to save. Or find another partner. I’m not interested.”
“I have a video you should see,” he said, looking down at his phone. “I could post this one.” He held the phone up for her to see.
She held her forearm to her forehead to shade her eyes and peered at the screen. The sun was bright, and at first she didn’t understand what she was looking at. Then she could see it was a video of Ramon on his knees beside the chaise lounge, running his hands up and down her thighs. How? And then she remembered the phone sticking up from the half-pocket on the outside of his blue case.
“You bastard,” she exclaimed, then she laughed derisively. “Well good luck with that. I don’t think that will get you many followers on YouTube.”
“No, but your husband might like to see it.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me?” Evelyn thought that hilarious under the circumstances. Here Howard could see how, fully clothed, she and Ramon had cavorted while talking of books and whatnot. Howard could hardly object, when he was screwing his mistress. “Go ahead, show him. The most it will get you is a broken nose, if he cares to defend ‘my honor,’ which I doubt. I expect he’ll be as amused as I am.” Ramon didn’t seem to understand the sheer incompetence of his effrontery. It was funny. She had thought him smarter than this, and nicer. And she thought it was a good thing that Ramon didn’t know of Howard’s infidelity for, if he did, he would surely try to blackmail Howard, and not knowing that she already knew, Howard might have paid him to keep quiet. “Now, if we’re finished here, I have a garden to tend.”
But Ramon didn’t move. He didn’t even look ruffled. Instead he slowly shook his head like a disappointed disciplinarian who, failing to impose his will on a recalcitrant child, was about to administer corporal punishment. Evelyn tensed, her gloved hand gripping the trowel tightly in case he tried to get physical.
“I didn’t want to have to do this,” Ramon said, shaking his head dolefully as he tapped the screen of his phone again.
He’s going to show me a video of Howard and Connie, Evelyn thought. But where’s the profit in that? Or maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he’s already blackmailed Howard, and now that I’ve refused to sweeten the pot, he’s just being vindictive.
“I already kno...” she began to say, but stopped as he held up the phone for her to see. The setting was the same — a corner of the pool, the trunk of a palm tree, her backyard. In the foreground beside the chaise lounge, Ramon stood naked, his cock fully erect, his hand buried in the blonde hair of the naked girl who knelt before him. She was.... With a jolt of horror, Evelyn recognized her own daughter. Her heart gave a tremendous thump that took her breath away. Her mouth went dry.
“I got twenty minutes more, if you want to…”
Evelyn felt white-hot rage with a surge of adrenaline. “You son of a bitch!” She flew at him, grabbing for the phone as he snatched his hand back and thrust it over his head. He was laughing like a playground bully taunting the little kid. She lashed out with the trowel in a long arc, aiming for his face. He feinted backward, out of the way of the blade. The force of her swing made her stumble closer, and she brought the trowel up again in a backhanded swipe that glanced off his chest. She was flailing now, landing an ineffective left hook to his ribs, a kick to the shins. His laughter turned to a maniacal giggle. He knocked her left hand away with right forearm, while his left arm still held the phone high, leaving his left side unprotected. Before he could jump aside again, the trowel caught him in the ribs just below the armpit. He howled with pain, and his arm snapped down like a Venus flytrap, pinning the trowel to his torso. She yanked back trying to wrench it free. Her hand pulled out of the glove instead, and she stumbled backward, losing a sandal. He threw the trowel and glove aside and thrust the phone into his front pocket, wincing in pain at his bruised side. “Ow! You cunt. That hurt!” Then she was on him again, pummeling him with both fists. He wasn’t laughing anymore. She kicked with her bare foot, aiming for his balls, but missed. When she kicked again, he grabbed her foot and yanked upward, sending her hard onto her back and knocking the wind out of her. Tears welled in her eyes as she gasped for breath. Before she could recover, he was on top of her, knees pinning her arms to the ground. “Fuck!” he said, panting. “You really hurt me.” He rotated his left arm like a bird with a broken wing, feeling the knot of bruised muscle under his arm.
For a long moment, she was convinced her breath would never come back. When it did, she filled her lungs greedily and began to whimper, croaking impotent threats as she tried to buck him off, but the weight differential was too great.
“Calm down,” he said. “Now you listen to me. All I’m asking is for a helping hand, okay? I’m trying to be reasonable here. I need you to cosign a loan and pay the first couple of months on the mortgage, just until the cash flow exceeds the output. This is a good investment. You’ll see. Have your husband read the prospectus. He might know a good deal when he sees it.”
“You seduced my daughter.”
“Consenting adults.”
“I don’t think she consented to your video!”
“People do sex tapes all the time.”
“I want that phone.”
Ramon looked skyward, sighed, shook his head, and leaned over like a raptor about to eat its prey. “It’ll cost you, but I’m offering you an opportunity in return. You have something I need. I have something you want. I’d rather work with you, but if I have to, I’ll raise the money some other way. Amateur porn sites pay good money for videos like that.”
“Pig! Get off me!”
“You want everyone to see what a little slut your daughter is?”
“Give me your phone. I’ll have you arrested.”
“For what?”
“I’ll charge you with extortion.”
&nbs
p; “Your word against mine.”
“I’ll tell them you’re a pornographer.”
“Ha! Porn isn’t illegal anymore. It’s big business. It’s an industry. If you give me any trouble, I’ll post it on the internet.” Then, as though the idea had just occurred to him, he added, “Or I could send a copy to your husband. He might see things my way.”
“He’d kill you.” She said it, but she didn’t believe it. Howard would be angry; he would make idle threats, but in the end he would pay.
“I’ll give you a couple days to calm down and come to your senses. Call me. We’ll have lunch and talk business.”
That said, he jumped up and strode quickly down the lawn, rotating his left arm and chuckling as carefree as a lion after a feast.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
In her own quiet way, she snapped then. The business with Howard had bent her. Ramon had broken a piece of her she thought inviolable. Her complacency was traded for a cold resolve to do all she could to protect her daughter. But how?
Ramon had taunted her as he never would have taunted a man. It was infuriating. If she were a man, she would have simply used her physical strength to overpower him and take the phone. But as a woman, she would always be at a disadvantage because of her diminutive size. Women had to employ other means to gain advantage. Sometimes it was the promise of sex. Sometimes it was stroking egos. Sometimes it was analyzing and planning, instead of letting emotion cloud one’s judgment. She knew she wasn’t physically capable of taking on the men in her life, but she believed she could outwit them. They had so little regard for her they would never see it coming.
She played the confrontation back in her mind. How might she have fared if she were a man? She imagined a larger version of herself rushing at him, knocking him off his feet, his head hitting the coping, his unconscious body sliding into the pool. But that was so much fantasy. She could never do it.
She lay back on the chaise lounge, closed her eyes, and tried to think her way out of her predicaments — the repercussions of Howard’s infidelity; Ramon’s threat to her daughter. Why had Samantha been so stupid? Even as she thought it, she knew why: Ramon had an animal magnetism coupled with suave manners. Who could resist him?
Evelyn Marsh Page 10
