by Steve Richer
“Landing the Mapleview account is going to be harder than I thought, Tom.”
“Anything worth having is worth struggling to get.”
She frowned and gave him the side eye. “Did you read that in a fortune cookie?”
“Fortune cookie or business school, can’t remember. But it’s not wrong, you know.”
“I know,” Alice replied with a sigh. “It’s stressing me out.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself, sweetie. You got this. You’re ready.”
“I’m ready to put a proposal together, sure. I can crunch numbers, make offers, assemble this deal like nobody’s business, but I’m stumbling on the basic stuff.”
“Basic stuff?” Tom asked, drying a zucchini and getting started on some carrots.
“I want my presentation to be gorgeous, okay? That means graphics and tables and flashy animations.”
“Aren’t you putting the hobby horse before the apple cart?”
Alice groaned. “That’s not how the saying goes.”
“Sue me. Seriously though, don’t sweat the little things. Do the financial work first and deal with the aesthetics after. Maybe you can get an intern for that or hire somebody once you get there. The point is, just relax. And take a break, for God sakes. It’s Saturday.”
“I thought you said I was going to be a VP. Weekends don’t exist anymore when you’re a VP.”
“I thought you said you weren’t a VP yet.”
He winked at her as he said that and she had to concede the point. He had nothing left to rinse off and still he stared out the window.
“Tom, what are you looking at?”
“What?” he asked innocently.
“You’ve been stealing glances outside for half an hour as if you’re expecting the Prize Patrol.”
“No, it’s nothing.”
Suspicious yet getting in a better mood, Alice stood up and joined him at the sink. She followed his gaze and her jaw dropped.
“Well, I’ll be…”
Libbie was in the backyard. She had dragged a lawn chair away from the garden table, making sure to land in a sunlit area. She reclined in her chair, wearing only shorts and a yellow bikini top.
“So that’s why you’ve been so intent on making ratatouille tonight? You like the view?”
“I might also wash the windows later. You know, because I’m a perfect husband.”
Alice elbowed him playfully in the stomach. “Tom Granger, are you looking to replace me?”
“Never.”
“You just decided to be a pervy voyeur then?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
She gave him another jab in the side and Tom pretended she had perforated his pancreas.
“She is quite beautiful, isn’t she?” Alice mused.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to take the fifth on that one, sweetie.”
“Too late for that, buster. And I think you’re right.”
Tom’s eyebrows flew up. “I am? And you admit it? Quick, get me a piece of paper so we can record this momentous occasion.”
“I’ll take a break for a few minutes, clear my head.”
“Outstanding decision, sweetie. I’ll finish working on dinner.”
“Don’t sprain your neck spying on her,” Alice said as she headed to the door, comforted by Tom’s laughter.
She went outside and found the air was rather cool. However, as soon as she stepped down the deck and got into the sun, she had to concede that the sunshine was nice.
“Hi!” Libbie called with a wave. “Come join me.”
Alice fetched a second lawn chair and brought it closer. She sat next to her tenant and couldn’t help glancing at her.
The bikini top left little to the imagination, Alice caught herself thinking. It had to be two sizes too small and she was spilling out of it. No wonder her husband had been gawking before. Libbie was drop-dead gorgeous.
“I wouldn’t have figured this a day for sunbathing,” Alice said.
She was herself wearing jeans and a long-sleeved blouse.
“The sun is strong. Most of the time there’s no wind and it gets really warm. Wait a moment, you’ll see.”
Alice gave her the benefit of the doubt and leaned back. Sure enough, the breeze died and it was perfect. After a few minutes, she rolled up her sleeves.
“See?” Libbie asked with self-satisfaction.
“Yeah, but I’m dressed. You’re… not.”
At that, Libbie straightened up. “You don’t think I’m being inappropriate, do you? You said I could use the backyard and…”
“Oh no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Alice confirmed. “I’m just surprised. You don’t expect beach behavior at this time of year, you know? But at least Tom enjoyed the view.”
Libbie grinned. “Nice to know I still got it.”
Alice didn’t reply. Instead, she glanced sideways at her and inspected her body again. She definitely still had it, all right.
For a few minutes, they talked about mindless things such as TV shows, movies, and neighbors. People would start decorating for Halloween soon and Alice promised that it would be spectacular. Well, not so much the displays as the sheer number of people who fell off ladders or accidentally set themselves on fire.
“It’s not funny,” Alice began with a wince. “But it’s kind of funny.”
Libbie winked. “Totally understand. Hey, we could make a night of it, driving around the neighborhood while scanning for the Darwin Awards.”
Tom came out of the kitchen with a garbage bag. He waved at them on his way to the trashcans.
“Alice?” the tenant asked.
“Yes?”
“You don’t think I went overboard dressing this way, do you? I didn’t mean to be too underdressed, especially in front of your husband and…”
“Oh no, Libbie. It’s okay. I trust Tom completely.”
“Great. That’s good to know.”
Just as Tom was heading back toward the side door, a visitor appeared on the street. Alice straightened up in her chair and she couldn’t help but snort back a laugh.
“What is it?”
“You see that girl?” Alice pointed to the visitor with her chin to be inconspicuous because they could be seen from around the house where Tom met the young person.
“Yeah?”
It was a teenage girl. She was almost as tall as Tom, her figure slender and flawless. She wore a plaid skirt which stopped above her knees and a tight T-shirt that was almost sheer. From her position, Alice could see the outline of her bra. Her blond hair was in a high ponytail.
“That’s Marissa Sigley. You know, the girl who has a thing for my husband?”
“That’s her?! She’s gorgeous.”
“And she knows it, too.”
In the distance, they could hear her talk to Tom. There was a clipboard in her hand and they heard something about her collecting funds for one school project or another.
“You’re sure she’s only sixteen?”
“Her Sweet Sixteen was a month ago. Her parents invited us just to be polite, but we didn’t go.”
“You think she wanted Tom to be there?”
Alice was taken aback. “No. It strangely makes sense now though…”
“Yesterday when I mentioned that teenagers have strong hormonal urges, I mentioned that boy. But I suppose it also applies to girls.”
Libbie reached for her phone, tapped the camera icon, and took pictures of Marissa.
“So, first you say that Rusty is a stalker and now you think Marissa is planning to murder my husband?”
“No,” Libbie answered with a laugh. “It’s just that at that age their impulses are stronger than their self-control. Don’t you remember being a teenage girl?”
“I never stole anyone’s husband.”
“But have you ever thought about it?” Alice kept her mouth shut. “Because that’s what’s really important. Intent.
After that, it’s only a question of opportunity. I’m sorry, here I go being serious again.”
“It’s okay.”
“You have nothing to be jealous of, Alice.”
“I’m not jealous!”
“And you have no reason to be,” Libbie says, reassuring her with a gentle stroke on the hand. “Marissa might be young and beautiful, but you have her beaten, hands down.”
“Tom would never do anything improper.”
“Of course, Alice. If I were you, though, I’d still keep an eye out. For her, I mean. Not Tom. He’s a gentleman, there’s no doubt about that. But Marissa? Teenage girls? Sometimes they act without thinking about consequences.”
“Right,” Alice said. “Right…”
She trusted Tom implicitly. Of course she did. And she knew all too well what a slippery and treacherous slope jealousy could be. But still, for the first time in her life, she found herself doubting her husband and his ability to resist a woman’s charms.
Chapter 9
The dubstep music was so loud that Libbie could feel her insides trembling. She ordinarily didn’t like this sort of music, but the DJ was mixing it with a Rihanna hit. It was a strange combination, but it worked.
She walked through the club, which had been built in the belly of an abandoned textile factory. She felt people all around her. She could smell them, feel their heat closing in on her. It reminded her of the hospital. That was the last time she had been in a crowd like this.
Here, however, no one paid attention to her. Not yet, at least. The colorful lights flashed quickly, the strobes harmonizing with the music. It was euphoric.
She was wearing a black satin halterneck wrap dress that hugged her figure. The neckline plunged dangerously low and the hem stopped well above her knees. It was only when the lighting pattern changed that she began to get attention. Men who were dancing with their dates turned her way. Libbie saw more than one woman glare at her angrily.
It was perfect.
She reached the bar and ordered a negroni. It wasn’t long before the first slimeball hit on her.
“Hey,” he said, displaying sheer volumes of eloquence.
He was tall and his hair had more chemical products than hers. His silk shirt had three buttons undone. His cocky smirk did nothing to rehabilitate his image. He was downright smarmy.
“I’m waiting for someone,” she said, sipping her Campari-sweet vermouth-gin cocktail.
“Let me wait with you.”
About to reply, Libbie changed her mind. She smiled, came closer to him while holding her glass between them, and craned her neck as if she wanted to whisper. He reeked of CK One.
“I’d rather swallow a glass of flaming bleach than spend another minute with you. Okay? Thanks for playing.”
Flustered, the man didn’t know how to respond and retreated. Libbie grinned to herself, turning away.
The bartender gave her an appreciative smile, having witnessed the scene. She was proud of herself. Where was the fun in scoring a point if no one saw you?
“Another,” she said, slamming her empty glass down before her. She should pace herself. She was out of practice.
Waiting for her second drink, she turned and studied the crowd. Why were people so depressing? So… one-dimensional? Everyone was just as dull as perfect Tom and his perfect wife Alice.
She took a long sip of her new drink, waving some money in the bartender’s direction.
In the time it took for him to take a couple of bills and give her change, another guy had moved in beside her. Head shaved, hipster beard, puppy-dog eyes.
She took her drink, paused to give him a look so withering he visibly shrank away from her, and then turned her back on him. She didn’t know why she’d even come here. Seeking something.
Distraction, perhaps. Action, yes.
Not some carpet-chinned lightweight who no doubt wanted to have actual conversation and share his feelings and maybe even call her the next day.
She moved onto the dancefloor and started to twist and sway in time to the beat. Closing her eyes, she let the lights play on her lids, trying to lose herself.
Maybe that was why she’d come here. To lose herself, if only for a few minutes.
A sharp bump on her arm jolted her back to awareness, a cold splash on the back of her hand as her drink jerked and nearly spilled. What the…? She felt a flush of anger, a surge of rage.
A guy. Black hair, dark eyes and a Who cares? look plastered all over his face.
He’d bumped into her, but he wasn’t going to apologize. He was too busy eyeing the low-cut front of her dress, weighing up his chances.
Libbie fought to control her anger. She took a step toward him, took a hold of his shirt with her free hand, and hissed, “You owe me a drink, dude.”
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Then his expression faltered. She was sure he’d just seen how close she was to losing it. That rage that was always bubbling so close to the surface inside her.
“I…” he said, finally finding words and then seeming to lose them immediately. “Sorry.” That shrug again. He nodded toward the bar and gave a smile that was somewhere between conciliatory and scared.
She liked that. Within seconds of meeting this guy he had no idea where he stood. But he didn’t flee. He was clearly drawn, clearly interested.
Maybe this one would do.
For now.
~ ~ ~ ~
Saturday evening and here Alice was, pressing the car’s LOCK button on her key fob and heading across the parking lot to the big glass doors of Pierson Newport’s head office.
She’d felt bad leaving Tom home alone, but he’d assured her it was fine. “How else are you going to make vice president and keep me in the style to which I hope to become accustomed, sweetie?” he’d joked, ushering her out of the door.
“No parties, you hear me?” she’d told him. “And no inviting Marissa Sigley over while I’m out.” She’d tried to ignore the slightly sour taste the quip had left in her mouth, triggering memories of Libbie’s warnings about the dangers of obsessive, lust-filled teens.
Jokes. Banter. That was the basis of their marriage. But was it hiding something? Were they trying to mask something terrible from their past? It was best not to wonder, Alice decided.
Some things were best left alone.
She paused before swiping her ID and waiting for the glass doors to swing smoothly open. The place was in darkness, at least. That was good. She’d come here to work on her pitch.
Tom had been right about not sweating the presentation until she had the content fixed, but sometimes it helped to visualize things with a few graphics. It was far easier to juggle Photoshop and the sprawling Excel spreadsheets on her big office screens than on her laptop at home.
And coming here gave her space to think without distraction. To clear her head.
She hated to admit that Libbie’s innocent warnings had been playing on her mind.
Seeing Marissa Sigley out front this morning, chatting and laughing with Tom. The kid was breathtakingly beautiful and she sure as hell knew it.
And Tom did, too.
He wasn’t that kind of a guy, though. Alice knew that. He would never stray, and certainly not with a kid.
She sure doesn’t look like a kid, though, and she’s past sixteen.
She heard the words in Libbie’s voice, that gentle, warning tone.
Maybe all guys were that kind of a guy in the right—or wrong—circumstances.
There was a light on in one of the back offices that led off the open-plan space. The dim light of computer screens. Had a machine been left running, or was someone working here late on a Saturday in the dark?
She approached warily.
“Hey, Walter,” she called, letting go the breath she’d been holding. “Or should I say SwelterificJones?”
He looked up with a start, a guilty expression on his face. Not working late: playing. Every time she used the name of his gaming avatar h
e told her how much he regretted having divulged his online identity to her.
He’d told her the name came from an old joke, long buried in his childhood. She’d never worked out if the name was a fond memory or if it had been a name used by school bullies to taunt him that he’d now reclaimed as his own.
Walter was tall and skinny, with an easygoing smile and mid-brown hair that always seemed to have recently outgrown its cut. She’d known him since she’d joined Pierson Newport five years before.
“Ali.” He was the only person to call her that. “You working on a Saturday?”
She moved into the dark office. “Mapleview,” she said, the one word enough for him to nod knowingly. He got how much was at stake. Since Tom had quit last year and gone freelance, things had been tight. “I came in to work on the big screens. Just like you, Swel’.”
She nodded toward his twin screens, a shoot ’em up game frozen on one, while the other showed the same scene from a different angle along with columns of figures and graphs. The game looked a lot more complicated even than the spreadsheets Alice had been juggling all day.
“You can’t do all this at home?” she asked.
“What can I say? I like the office ambience. That, and the network here is so much faster than anything I have at home.” It was a running joke that he was saving up to buy a really good gaming system for home but somehow he never quite got there.
He picked up the headphones he’d removed when she arrived and waggled them at her. “Promise I won’t disturb you.”
“It’s fine.”
Alice’s office was two along from Walter’s. In truth, she didn’t much mind. She’d come here for the peace, but Walter’s easy presence didn’t really change that.
“You want coffee?” she asked, knowing he’d always say yes. Gaming and caffeine, the two real loves of his life.
He followed her through to the small kitchen area and then stepped in to make the coffees himself.
“Everything okay?” Had he sensed her mood?
She shrugged. “I guess. Yes, it is. Just things are a bit difficult right now. Money, you know.”
“Don’t I?”
He handed her a latte. He hadn’t even had to ask what she wanted.
“Tom still working at home?”
