Michael gave Margo a long look, which she accepted as a confirmation of her saying the right things. He liked proactive women, women who could take care of themselves.
After glancing inside his bag again, Michael closed it and went to Margo.
“I can’t wait to see you again!” he said, leaning over to Margo and kissing her.
“Yes, me too.”
She led her future husband to the door where they joined in a kiss once again and then she watched him getting into his Mercedes. She closed the door only after the car disappeared from her sight. It was important to keep the golden mean. Her act should be as natural as possible, a little bend on either side could screw up everything.
“In my pocket,” Margo said as she closed the door. “My husband, number two.”
Margo poured the remaining red wine into her glass and went to the terrace, to enjoy the fresh evening air.
“I have to work in the morning,” she smiled as she sat down in the chair, looking at the boat sailing by on the canal. “Work again.”
CHAPTER 5
Two months had passed since Margo met Michael. Their relationship developed rapidly. He confessed that he loved her after their third date and she didn’t think it was too early. Men tended to fall in love with her quickly. She was that kind of woman. He gave her a gold bracelet with diamonds after their fourth date and she received diamond earrings after the fifth. To Margo’s disappointment, he didn’t give her a diamond ring. Margo didn’t want to be disappointed too deeply because, no matter what, they’d been dating only two months and there was no deadline, but she had hoped their relationship would have gained legal status more quickly. She wanted a legal relationship and access to her husband’s bank account. Her bank account hadn’t lost too much weight yet (it wasn’t too fat to begin with), but there were no new funds being added, which meant that one day she would have to start saving. Margo didn’t want that. She wanted to exclude that idea from her life and never think about.
Michael was always busy. He worked day and night: met with his clients, signed contracts, traveled. Margo didn’t mind that because she knew he did it to make money for their future together. Or you might say her future because her future husband’s future wasn’t going to last long. Of course anything could happen. He could be rich and convenient to live with. He could keep working as much as now or even more, hardly appearing at home, and not interfering in Margo’s life at all. In that case, he could live a long life, happily ever after, as they said in fairy tales.
During this period of getting to know each other, learning each other’s habits and character, Margo didn’t allow herself to be bored or fall into useless reflections. There was absolutely nothing to think about, everything had been decided a long time ago, on her part at least. So, she went to spa procedures every week, did massages and manicures with pedicures, she bought brand-name outfits, and chose possible traveling routes. During this very period of time, she also learned that her stupid assistant had a boyfriend. He sometimes drove her to Margo’s house in a red Mustang. Margo was crushed, but not by the fact that this worthless human being had a guy. It was the fact that he was hot. He was young, tall, and handsome like in those stupid romantic movies she had watched a few times. When Margo saw him for the first time, her first emotion was envy. She was beautiful and smart, but her boyfriend was old and so average looking. This girl was nobody, no one would take a second look at her, and she got this guy. The more Margo thought about it, the more she was convinced that her assistant was unworthy of what she had gotten obviously by mistake. There was nothing about her he could find attractive. When this girl had just started working for her, Margo thought she was pretty, but now she saw her for what she really was. Daisy was ugly and dumb and there was nothing unique or even a little special about her. She was stupid in all honesty. Margo wanted justice. A stupid girl shouldn’t date a handsome guy. It was very far from justice, in her understanding. That was why today, when her assistant said her boyfriend was going to pick her up, Margo found a lot of tasks for her in the office and then waited by the door. She didn’t want to miss the red Mustang.
He arrived before her assistant’s workday was over. Actually, before the time they had agreed upon, and they agreed she would leave her job at six. He parked next to the house, got out of the car, and lit a cigarette. Margo’s heart stopped. She was fed up with mommy’s boys, who were afraid to touch a pack of cigarettes let alone smoke. They probably intended to live up to two hundred years and of course without problems with their lungs.
She unbuttoned another button on her already revealing blouse, opened the door, and went out onto the porch. The guy was already looking toward the house and smiled when she appeared. Margo walked down the stairs and toward him. The guy leaned with his back against his car, but when his girlfriend’s boss moved in his direction, he straightened up, but didn’t take off his sunglasses and didn’t throw out his cigarette. He did the opposite: he dragged on it and when she approached, released smoke in the direction of the wind.
“Daisy texted me she was late,” he said.
Daisy—what a stupid name. Margo didn’t like it and preferred not to remember it at all. The girl had an ordinary appearance, chicken brains, and was called Daisy, but her boyfriend was a stud. Her assistant was a strange creature. What did he find in her? Was she good in bed? Doubtfully.
“Yes, she’s organizing things ... there,” Margo said in a tone that was meant to humiliate her female employee just a little. “I don’t know how to do that stuff.”
“You’re lucky,” the guy grinned. “You came out to tell me she’s going to stay for another couple of hours?”
“Not really. I just wanted to meet you. I see you almost every day. So ... What’s your name?”
“Tristan.”
“I’m Margo.”
“I know.” He puffed again and blew smoke to the side.
“I also wanted to ask for a cigarette. I ran out.” She ran out because she quit smoking five years ago. She was tired of the smell of tobacco in her hair and clothes. Plus, she read that it was bad for her skin. Why would she accelerate an inevitable process?
Tristan snorted, took a pack of Marlboro as red as his car out of his shirt pocket, and handed it to Margo. She took a cigarette and dragged on it with pleasure when he helped her to light it.
“How long have you been dating ... Daisy?” Margo asked.
“Almost four months.”
“That’s a good chunk of time. She’s pretty.”
“Yes, she is.”
“You two are different.”
“What do you mean?” The guy threw the rest of his cigarette on the ground and didn’t bother to extinguish it. His fashionable, white sneakers weren’t suitable for that purpose.
“I’m sure she’s a nice girl. I’m happy with her. She doesn’t refuse any work. If I ask her to clean the toilets, she will. My cleaning lady usually does this type of job, but Daisy is not fastidious.” Margo enjoyed including impressive words here and there.
“Not fastidious,” Tristan tasted the word, studying Margo. “That’s true,” he agreed. He took off his sunglasses and squinted at the sun. “That’s why I like her.”
“That is not the greatest quality in women, especially when they date young and handsome guys.”
Tristan chuckled.
“What would be the greatest quality then?” he asked.
Margo took another puff of the cigarette and realized she didn’t want more, so she threw the cigarette butt next to the other.
“For example, the ability to hold a conversation.”
“We talk a lot,” Tristan said and his eyes moved down from Margo’s eyes to her lips.
“Sexuality,” Margo added and bit her lip.
The guy’s gaze slid even lower to the first button of her shirt.
“Really?” he asked. “Is that important?”
“You can always learn what is more important.”
Tristan looked a
t Margo’s breast then looked back into her eyes. They gazed at each other, silently, when the door slammed. Tristan looked behind Margo. She noted that he did it reluctantly.
“Call me tomorrow morning,” Margo said before turning to her assistant. “Are you done?” she asked.
“Yes.” Daisy already approached the car. She looked suspiciously from her boyfriend to her employer. “I did everything you asked.”
“Good. You can go home now. You don’t have to come tomorrow. I’m leaving for the day.”
“Really?” There was doubt in Daisy’s voice. How did she dare to doubt her boss?
“I’m visiting my friend on an island. Maybe I’ll stay for a couple of days, I don’t know.”
“Okay,” Daisy said.
“Have a good day, Tristan.” Margo turned to the guy for a moment then headed to the house.
She looked through the peephole as they talked by the car before getting inside. When Daisy was inside the car, she looked back at the house. Margo stepped away from the peephole when the car left and sent a message to her future husband.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.
“Very busy.” The answer came twenty minutes later. “I’m all yours after tomorrow. Is that okay? I’m really sorry.”
“Okay. I miss you.”
“I miss you so much. Can’t wait to see you. I’m so tired today.”
“I understand, dear. See you. Love you.”
“I love you even more. See you.”
Margo turned off her phone and went to the office to check her Cinderella’s work. This Cinderella isn’t going to get her prince no matter how many shoes she loses.
CHAPTER 6
Margo took a shower after the gym and poured a glass of cold orange juice when the doorbell rang. She frowned, trying to imagine who it could be so early, adjusted the belt on her silk robe, her only clothes, and headed for the door with the glass of juice. She probably ordered something on the Internet and forgot about it.
She walked into the foyer and turned on her security camera. The guy on the porch made her smile. She smiled when she opened the door.
“You didn’t call,” she said.
“You didn’t give me your phone number,” Tristan replied. He wore a leather jacket in spite of the heat and his motorcycle was parked near the porch. Margo’s heart stopped. Not like she loved bad guys, she didn’t love anyone to the fullest, but they evoked some emotion in her and that was already good. She was never sure that she felt like most people, but it didn’t bother her. She knew what she wanted, whom she wanted, when she wanted, and from whom she wanted what. She wanted money from a beer-bellied Michael. From a muscular motorcyclist, she wanted sex. Not sex as such, but the atmosphere that it brought. It wasn’t sex in exchange for money, but it was sex just for her pleasure, and this type of situation had its charm. Sometimes.
She opened the door wider and looked outside to see whether the neighbors were standing on the thresholds of their houses, watching her, even though it didn’t matter. Their knowledge wouldn’t change her life. She still decided to be cautious for Michael’s sake and asked her new friend to put his motorcycle on the terrace by the poolside. He did it without questions, though with a grin on his face.
When Tristan entered the house and stopped in the middle of the room, he didn’t look around, he looked only at her.
“Do you drink champagne in the morning?” Margo asked.
“Sounds better than beer.”
“Then grab it in the fridge. Wine glasses hang over the table. I’ll wait for you ... in that room.” She pointed toward the bedroom.
By the time he entered the room with the opened bottle of Moët and two glasses, she had thrown off her robe and put on lacy panties, so that he would have an opportunity to take off at least something. She didn’t want to stretch the time and have meaningless conversations. She needed adrenaline and she planned to get it right away. There weren’t too many things in the world more exciting than sex with a hot stranger.
“Are you sure we need champagne?” Tristan asked as he devoured her body with his eyes.
“A little,” she answered, stretching out on the bed.
A little later, she lay on the bed without the last piece of clothing, and Tristan stood naked by the open door leading outside to the pool, and smoked.
“You’re dating someone,” he said. “Daisy told me.”
“Let’s not mention her name. Or his. Why does it matter?”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. Are you serious about him?”
Margo smiled. She had the boy in her pocket, only she didn’t need him. From time to time, like today, but that was all.
“I'll marry him,” she said. When she lied, there was always a reason. There was no reason for creating anything in this situation.
“Are you cheating on your future husband?” Tristan took another inhale and threw the cigarette butt outside. Margo wanted to ask him to pick it up, but it would spoil the atmosphere.
“I’m testing myself,” she said.
“How is it going?”
Margo ran her hand over her chest then went lower, enjoying Tristan’s gaze, the way he bit his lip.
“Life is short, I think,” Margo said, going down between her legs.
“You’re so dirty,” Tristan said in a satisfactory and hoarse voice. “What a dirty little woman you are.”
Margo thought he had no idea, but she had no basis for this remark.
CHAPTER 7
“There’s a cigarette butt near the door,” Michael said, stepping outside when Margo was heading to the shower. Yesterday she enjoyed sex with a young stud and today’s exercises with Michael seemed something out of a pretty sad dream.
“Oh, that?” Margo stretched, letting Michael view her body again and understand how lucky he was. “The guy came to clean the pool yesterday and probably littered, bastard.”
Margo expected some kind of additional questions or comments about ignorance of low paid workers, but Michael just stepped over the trash he found and went to the terrace.
“All right,” Margo chuckled as she continued on her way to the shower. Michael could be a quite comfortable husband in all respects, if he didn’t change. Many men and women changed after they got married, she’d heard about that. Except for her. She was going to act exactly the same as long as the marriage lasted.
She took a shower, put on comfortable jeans and a T-shirt, and when she came out of the bedroom and entered the kitchen, she found her assistant unloading two bags of groceries. Margo forgot that she told Daisy to stop at the store on her way to work.
“Good morning, Margaret,” she said, continuing with her business.
“Hello,” Margo answered as she approached the refrigerator. A glass of cold orange juice would be welcomed. She wanted to open the refrigerator and get the juice when she remembered that she paid her assistant for serving her. So she sat down on a chair and propped her chin with her fist. “See if we have juice and pour me a glass.” ‘Please’ existed in Margo’s dictionary, but she used it on special occasions. This case wasn’t meant for the word.
“Sure.” The assistant, who was still Daisy, what a stupid name, hurried to the fridge, took out a container of orange juice, then a glass, and in a couple of minutes Margo had her order. She wanted to, but couldn’t accuse her assistant of being sluggish. While the girl was getting juice, Margo considered her figure and tried to find faults. Daisy was slim, proportional, but her face was simple and naive. She wasn’t equal to Tristan in any way. Margo asked him again what he had found in her and Tristan answered that she was looking at him with her mouth open. Margo laughed at this explanation and believed him. Men were so full of themselves.
“Your boyfriend,” Margo began, when Daisy returned to sort the groceries. “Are you guys serious?”
Daisy stopped for a moment, bit her lip, shrugged her shoulders, and tucked her hair behind her ears. All this showed her uncertainty, Margo was sure of it.
“I hope,” the assistant replied, straightened her hair again, and carried the yogurt packages and kefir to the refrigerator.
“Hopes die last,” Margo muttered as she drank her juice. She wanted to add that hoping for something was a naïve characteristic, just to bug her assistant, but she stopped when Michael entered the room.
“Oh, hello, Daisy!” he greeted.
“Good morning, Michael,” Margo’s assistant said in the same friendly manner. Margo narrowed her eyes. Why were they so courteous to each other? Margo wouldn’t allow that. There should be no communication between her worker and her boyfriend, especially if it was friendly. Could there be something else to it?
Margo looked at Daisy who was hanging bananas on a special hook, then at Michael in his white robe, which he brought this morning and asked her permission to leave at her house. No, they couldn’t have anything going on behind her back. If that was the case, also doubtfully, Margo would take care of it. Michael took a strawberry yogurt cup from the refrigerator and smiled.
“Thank you, Daisy!”
“You mentioned it last time and I ...”
“Go change the bed,” Margo said without letting the girl finish her sentence.
“But I,” Daisy said hesitantly as she turned the bottle of Chardonnay in her hand. Margo told her what to buy and didn’t suggest any initiative. This simpleton couldn’t have a taste for wine and shouldn’t buy anything else unless she was told to do so directly by her boss, even if she heard something from her boss’s boyfriend. Especially if she had heard something from her boss’s boyfriend. “Sylvia’s coming today.”
“Are you saying this is not your job?”
Michael froze with the cup of yogurt in his hand, looking from his girlfriend to her assistant and back.
“No. Should I finish with the groceries?”
“Of course. Michael, darling, let’s go outside. I don’t want to bother her.”
The garden of dead thoughts Page 5
