Secret Lives of Cheating Wives

by Curtis Bunn

“I’m going to walk for about an hour,” she said. “That should be about two miles.”

  Eric nodded his head. “Okay.”

  Rhonda plugged her earphones into her Samsung cell phone and headed out. It was more like a date than a walk.

  She left her cul-de-sac and headed right, about a quarter-mile down to the next street and turned right, toward the subdivision’s entrance. She turned left and continued down another neighborhood street, passing men mowing lawns and kids playing basketball in driveways.

  She was intentionally slow, not wanting to build up any perspiration. But her heart rate increased as she got closer to Lorenzo’s house. She texted him: If you’re home, come outside. I have a gift for you.

  She made a right on his street and passed three houses before reaching his. Lorenzo was standing at the front door, hands on hips. When their eyes met, he smiled and shook his head, which gave her relief. He looked happy to see her.

  “And what’s the gift?” he said, grinning.

  Rhonda looked down at her body and back up at Lorenzo.

  “Oh, well, you should come in.”

  He held the door open and Rhonda, without hesitation, walked in.

  “Don’t you look cute in your workout gear?”

  “I plan to walk every day—every day that you are home around this time.”

  “If that’s the case, I will make sure I’m here.”

  They walked to the den. “Have a seat. Can I get you something?”

  Rhonda was purposeful and efficient. She did not engage in small talk.

  “Unfortunately, I only have about forty-five minutes. And I didn’t come over here to eat.”

  And with that, their secret affair was set. Up to three times a week, Rhonda would leave Eric at home to walk—right to Lorenzo’s house, where they would engage in the kind of intense passion she so lacked at home.

  “What’s going on with you, girl?” Olivia asked as she and Rhonda had dinner one weekend at Yebo Beach Haus in Buckhead. “I haven’t seen you in about three weeks.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve been back to work for a week and I see you every day.”

  “I’m talking about us doing this, hanging out. Things must be better at home.”

  Rhonda did not want to lie, but through her affair with Lorenzo, she realized she could be keen at deception. So, she said, “I will say this: I’m getting some good sex right now.”

  “Oh, shit. Go ’head, Eric. I knew my boy would bounce back.”

  “He’s trying. He’s cut back on eating—at least around me. And he goes to the LA Fitness a couple times a week. That’s all I need to see—an effort. I was pissed because he took me for granted, like I should accept him looking any kind of way.”

  “Well, Rhonda, you actually should. He’s your husband. You married him for his looks or the man he is?”

  “Both. If I blew up thirty pounds and he found that unattractive, I would understand. He likes to look at me and find me attractive. I get that. It’s the same with me. He’s my husband and I’m attracted to all the things about him that I love. But I also liked that he was a fine, handsome man with a nice body.

  “And, wait—I know you’re not coming at me like that. You’re the same woman who constantly talks about needing a fine man, eye candy.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not married. When you’re married, it should be about the man, not how the man looks.”

  Rhonda turned defensive and irritated.

  “Who are you to determine what anything should be like for me?” she said. “You manage your life, I’ll manage mine.”

  “Don’t get mad. I’m keeping it real.”

  “It’s not about keeping it real. It’s about keeping it right,” Rhonda snapped back. “And I mean Eric has to keep himself right. I have to keep myself right for him. That’s it, that’s all.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “And I’m saying let’s skip the subject. What’s going on in your love life since you’re so interested in mine?”

  “You shouldn’t be so touchy. I thought you said you were getting good sex. You’re acting like you ain’t had none.”

  Rhonda was not going to be lured into more conversation about her love life or marriage. “Are you getting any?” she asked Olivia.

  “I will be, if you must know.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “Remember the guy we saw at Suite Lounge. . . Lorenzo?”

  A knot filled Rhonda’s stomach. It was hard for her to act casual.

  “Oh, that guy? I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “I never said that. Said I had to think about it. I thought about it and I think I’m gonna give him some.”

  “How do you know he wants some?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. Have you been talking to him? Is he interested in you?”

  “You were there—he wants me. I haven’t talked to him much since that night, but I did text him the other day and he texted me back.”

  “So, what did you say? What did he say?”

  Rhonda tried to sound as if she were being inquisitive, not nosey. But Olivia picked up on it.

  “Why you so interested?”

  “I’m asking questions like you do. You told me you were holding out and not that interested in the guy. Now you’re throwing it at him.”

  “I’m not throwing it at him. I’m saying I like the fact that he hasn’t been chasing me like most men. He made himself more interesting by not acting too interested.”

  “And that’s it? Sounds like a game to me.”

  “It is a game. You’re married—you don’t know what it’s like out here. You have someone. As a single woman out here, you’d better be up on your game to survive.”

  “Who has time for all that?”

  “It’s better than being in a marriage you don’t want to be in. I’m not saying that’s you. I’m saying that was me. I don’t like being single. But I didn’t like being married to the wrong person, either. So, I have to play the game to control my happiness.”

  Rhonda’s happiness had come to depend on her encounters with Lorenzo, and she did not want it threatened by anyone, especially her friend. So the next ninety minutes she spent with Olivia were torture. She wanted to speak to Lorenzo. Since she couldn’t, she got what answers she could through Olivia.

  “So what’s the deal with that guy, what’s his name? Lorenzo?” she asked. “I hope you really like him.”

  “I always liked him. But I wasn’t sure I was going to take it where he wanted it to go.”

  “Where did he want it to go?”

  “He wanted me to be his woman. I wasn’t ready for that. I still don’t want that.”

  “But you want to sleep with him?”

  “It’s a new day. Not a better day for women, but it’s a new day. We take what we can get in some cases. In some cases, we take what we want.”

  “So now you want Lorenzo?”

  “I’m going to find out if I want him. If I don’t, I’ll move on.”

  “And sex is the way to find out if you want him?”

  “It’s one way.”

  “Isn’t that the one way that puts you in a no-win situation? Look, if you give him sex without building a relationship, how do you think he’s going to look at you? You think he’s going to want to build something with you if you give him sex so easily, so quickly? That’s the quickest way to lose his respect.”

  Rhonda was well aware that she had done exactly what she told Olivia not to do. But she had already done it and couldn’t take it back. And she didn’t want to take it back because it was good and liberating. And she did not want Lorenzo to have Olivia, too.

  “I thought about that,” Olivia said. “Men can do all kinds of stuff without anyone questioning them. But if I woman decides to play the field or test the waters or whatever, we’re the worst creatures on earth. You know that’s been the case for a long time. But that’s changing.”

  Rhonda
could not disagree with the double standard. She did not want Lorenzo sexing her friend, though. It was not like she had any right to weigh in or determine anything he did. But she was going to do her best behind the scenes to protect what she considered her territory.

  “I don’t want you to put yourself out there and have that guy thinking you’re some kind of desperate chick who will do anything for sex because there are so many more women than men,” Rhonda said. She was almost embarrassed by the statement. She hoped Olivia did not see through it.

  “I ain’t doing all that thinking,” Olivia said. “I’m gonna find out if I really like the guy enough to get with him. It couldn’t be long term. He’s a bartender, for goodness’ sake.”

  That surprised Rhonda. Lorenzo had told her he would be opening a restaurant. How could Olivia, who knew him before Rhonda met him, not know that? Or was she telling the truth and he was lying? Suddenly, it was no longer about keeping Olivia from Lorenzo. It was about learning about Lorenzo.

  “A bartender—not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she said. “But I thought you said he owned a restaurant.”

  “Owned a restaurant? He barely owns a car. He’s a nice guy, but I met him through his cousin, who used to go to my church. Said Lorenzo is a great guy, but doesn’t have nothing but dreams. That’s it.”

  Rhonda suddenly became confused. Did Olivia know of what she spoke? Had Lorenzo deceived her to impress her and thereby get her into bed? And what did it matter; she only wanted sex with him anyway?

  She excused herself and went to the bathroom, where she texted Lorenzo.

  I’m here with Olivia and she says you want her and she’s going to give you some. What’s that about?

  You’re telling me something I never heard from her. I haven’t seen or talked to her. But I’m glad you care.

  Rhonda cared, but she didn’t want to care.

  Should I care?

  I’m glad you do. But you shouldn’t worry about Olivia. I’m not interested.

  Men don’t have to be interested to have sex.

  That sounds overly judgmental.

  But it’s true, right?

  I’m sure it is for some men. But I think you should judge me for me.

  All I can do right now is judge.

  What are you wearing?

  What?

  Why don’t you cum over here so we can work it out.

  What time?

  And just like that, all the concerns over Olivia and her throwing herself at him and if he was a bartender or restaurant owner. . . all of it rinsed down the proverbial “who cares?” drain. Rhonda wanted to protect what she considered hers.

  She returned to Olivia and tried to move the conversation toward work or family or the TV show Power—anything other than Lorenzo.

  When ten o’clock came, she paid her portion of the bill, placed her wallet and cell phone in her purse and headed for the door.

  “You seem anxious to get home,” Olivia said. “Must gonna get some tonight.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I will get some. Call Lorenzo. Maybe he’ll give you some.”

  “I think I will. Tell you about it tomorrow.”

  She smiled, knowing Olivia would be rejected. “Please do. I want to hear all the juicy details.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  FACING TRUTHS

  STEPHANIE

  Wilhemina found the text message from her mom curious, so she called Stephanie.

  After the pleasantries, the child went in. “You don’t want me to come home this weekend?”

  “I was thinking next weekend would be better, that’s all. There is an August Wilson play that opens on Friday, Gem of the Ocean. I saw it years ago. It’s excellent. And I’d like to take you to it.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “Him, too.”

  Stephanie then took a risk.

  “But if this weekend is better for you, then all right.”

  She knew her daughter—she was an actor who loved plays. So Stephanie attacked her weak spot.

  “I actually read Gem of the Ocean for a class,” she said. “August Wilson is my favorite playwright. I can’t wait to see it on stage.”

  Stephanie let out a sigh of relief. Her date with Charles would not be interrupted, as her lie about having to see Toya through her troubles on Saturday gave her a pass out of the house without question.

  To avoid Toya and Willie speaking, Stephanie lied to her sister. “He’s all upset and wants to ask you about what’s going on with me. I acted like it was fine with me, but it wasn’t. I know you probably want to tell him. I know you.”

  “I do want to tell him, but I won’t. It’s not my place. And I wouldn’t cause that kind of trouble for you. But I also don’t want to lie to him. So I won’t be calling your home number for a while. And if he calls me, I’m not answering. But you need to do right by that man before this whole thing blows up in your face.”

  Her words made sense, but nothing Stephanie did made sense at that point. She was deep in an “I want what I want” mindset, and critical words or logical thinking were not going to reel her in.

  Friday night, after dinner at The Cook and Her Farmer in Oakland, Willie suggested going to a birthday party for the former owner of Geoffrey’s, a nightclub that was a stellar staple for years between various locations. Stephanie had her mind on getting some rest so she could look her best for Charles and have the energy to perform the way she wanted.

  She knew her husband as well as she knew her daughter, and so she played to his personality.

  “If you really want to, that’s fine.”

  Stephanie knew that Willie took “fine” as code for “I’d rather not.”

  “It was just a suggestion,” he said. “We used to love hanging at Geoffrey’s.”

  “Yes, we did. Maybe we can find a movie at home and relax. I’ve had a long week—you have, too. Let’s relax. On top of that, I don’t know what’s in store for me tomorrow, dealing with Toya.”

  “I feel bad about that,” Willie said. “I hope they work it out. They haven’t been married as long as we have, but they have a lot of history.”

  “That’s true, but history doesn’t hold a marriage together, Willie.”

  “I didn’t say it did; I’m saying they’ve spent a long time together and it would seem like a waste if they split.”

  “Nothing in life is a waste. We learn from everything.”

  “What are you saying? You’re cool with them splitting?”

  “No. I’m saying it would not be a waste if they did. They had a lot of experiences together. They both learned from each other and grew. They wouldn’t be the people they are if they hadn’t grown together and learned from each other.”

  “They have eighteen years together. We have twenty-four. Those are a lot of years. You get past the early drama, and you believe you should be together forever. That’s what I see in them. That’s what I see in us. If it doesn’t happen, it would be a shame.”

  “Well, you’re right about that—so don’t do something to make me leave your ass.”

  Willie laughed. “What you see is what you have gotten.”

  Stephanie thought to herself: And that’s the problem. I’d like to see something else. Some energy. Some spirit. Some something.

  “That’s true, husband. I hope things are better for them. I will let you know tomorrow night after I see Toya.”

  “Tomorrow night? I thought you were picking her up at noon.”

  “I am. . . but I’m thinking this is a time when we could go visit Mama’s gravesite, have some lunch, go to a movie. . . I don’t know. Sort of keep her mind off their troubles while also talking about them.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to spend the whole day and night doing that,” Willie said. “Baby girl isn’t coming home until next week now. So I wanted to do something with you—a movie. We haven’t been to a movie since. . . I can’t even remember. And we both like movies.”

  S
tephanie considered that an indictment against Willie. He was more of a movie-lover than she, and yet he had not suggested a film in almost a year. That was the activity they had shared the most, and they were not doing that.

  “I will call or text you so you know what time I’ll be back,” she offered.

  “Text? You know that’s not me. Call me. What’s the big deal? It’s less effort to call than to push all those buttons.”

  “Willie, I will call. And I will try to be done early. I don’t want to dump her, you know what I mean?”

  “You want me to call Terry? Maybe I should see what he’s doing and meet him somewhere. Maybe he’ll open up to me and I can be of some comfort to him.”

  That was the last thing Stephanie wanted, so she jumped in with another fabrication.

  “Toya told me he was playing golf in the morning with some guys from college, I think. Or maybe it was coworkers. But she asked me to hang out with her to give her something to do. You know them: Every Saturday they usually do something.”

  “That’s true,” Willie conceded. “Man, I hope they work it out. But I’m glad you’re being a good sister.”

  “It’s me and Toya. We have to take care of each other.”

  They made it home and instead of identifying a movie, Willie put the TV on the Golf Channel, which was great for Stephanie; she had no interest in the sport and it would help put her to sleep. The sooner she dozed off, the sooner she could wake up and be closer to seeing Charles.

  When the morning came, she was exuberant. Lively. Excited. She anticipated an involved conversation with Charles, the attention he offered, the compliments and his touch.

  They had planned to meet at noon at the Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. Willie left the house first, which solved a big concern Stephanie had: How she was going to get her overnight bag out of the house without Willie noticing. But he made a Home Depot run before Stephanie went into the shower.

  “I might not be back before you leave,” he said. “So tell Toya hello for me. Keep me posted on how it goes.”

  “I will, honey.”

  She rushed out of the shower, got herself together, packed the small bag and headed to the city. When she arrived, Charles was already there, leaning against the rail and looking out toward Alcatraz.