Secret Lives of Cheating Wives

by Curtis Bunn

  “You’re the shit,” she said. “You could easily take advantage of me, but you’re actually trying to do right by me. I appreciate that. More than you know.”

  “Of course. But let me squeeze that ass before you leave.”

  Juanita laughed uproariously. “See, some people. . . “

  “Nah, it’s all good,” Brandon said. “I want to see you happy. You deserve that. Want me to talk to your husband. I’ll tell him, ‘Dude, wake up. You got the freak of the week. Who doesn’t want that?’ ”

  “I’m sure that would not go over well, especially coming from you.”

  Then Juanita stood up, turned her back to Brandon and bent over. “I’m leaving. But go ahead. Squeeze it one last time.”

  Brandon smiled and grabbed two handfuls of her ass cheeks. “Damn, I’m gonna miss this,” he said.

  “Ummm,” she said. “Me, too. Me too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  STEAL AWAY

  RHONDA

  After cleaning up and putting on her dress, Rhonda decided she’d chat with Lorenzo for a few minutes before going home. It was almost one in the morning—the time she told her husband she would be home.

  They sipped on water. “That was good,” she said, “and I’m not talking about the water.”

  Lorenzo smiled.

  “Tell me something: Are you really going to open a restaurant? I ask because Olivia said you’ve been a photographer, created websites, worked as a personal trainer, was a host at a restaurant and on and on. She seems to believe you were lying.”

  “Wow,” he said. “She told you that? Well, I have had a lot of jobs. Not because I’m flighty, but because I have a lot of interests. I like the restaurant business the best.

  “The host job she mentioned was actually the general manager at a four-star restaurant in Buckhead. The photographer and website jobs she talked about are companies that I still have. And I never worked as a personal trainer; I told her I had a personal trainer at one point.”

  “Really? So what about the restaurant?”

  “You know where P. Diddy’s restaurant, Justin’s, used to be? That’s the space we’re considering.”

  “We?”

  “I have four partners—all friends who have their stuff together. They have owned spots before in Birmingham. I’m on board and we have the backing, the money. We’re just looking at the best location. So, Olivia. . . I really don’t know about her now.”

  “So, why me? You have so much going for yourself, Lorenzo. I’m married.”

  “I can see beyond that. I can see you. I can tell that you’re not necessarily a woman who would cheat. You believe you’ve been driven to this. This is out of character. I could be wrong. I’ve been wrong once or twice. But I don’t think I am in this case.”

  “Thank you for that,” Rhonda said. “But—”

  “Rhonda, you don’t have to continue to question me. You can if you need to, but I’m not only with you for sex. I’m not.”

  “What else could it be? I’m not leaving my husband.”

  “Sounds like you want to end it. Is that it?”

  “I never have been in this position and questions keep coming up.”

  “I don’t mind the questions. I don’t. But maybe you should really think about this. I respect your questions. I would feel some kind of way about you if you did this without questioning yourself or me. So, think about it over the weekend and let’s talk on Monday.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. It’s Friday. Now that we’ve had sex, you don’t want to talk to me again until Monday.”

  “I’m not going there with you. You’re taking something thoughtful and making it something sinister.”

  “Sinister? You and your words.”

  “You get my point. You’re making it sound like I don’t want to talk to you now that we’ve had sex.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. You deserve the benefit of the doubt, especially after not taking advantage of me that night when I was so drunk. . . You’re a gentleman, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “You need to go on home,” Lorenzo said, laughing. “Get some rest. Clear your head. Call me on Monday—unless you want to stop by during one of your walks. But don’t answer that. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Rhonda hugged him and whispered into his ear, “Too bad I’m taken. I’d let you be my man.”

  Lorenzo said, “If I wanted to be. You might not be as sexy single as you are married.”

  That comment made Rhonda step back. “Please tell me you’re joking. Don’t insult me like that.”

  “I truly was joking,” he quickly responded. “I’m sorry. I thought it would lighten the mood a little more. Too much heavy stuff. Come here. Let’s hug again.”

  They embraced and Rhonda made sure she did not look like she had just gotten sexed.

  At the front door, Lorenzo wanted to kiss Rhonda goodbye. “Let’s hug,” she said.

  They did and he opened the front door. Rhonda’s face turned flush when they stepped outside.

  “Lorenzo! Where’s my car? I parked it right there. Where’s my car?”

  “Oh, shit. Damn!”

  “Somebody stole my car. This is so messed up.”

  “I can’t believe this. Look, there’s no glass on the ground. They had to be professionals.”

  “What am I going to do? I can’t tell Eric my car was stolen from here.”

  “Where did you tell him you were going?”

  “To Whisky Mistress in Buckhead.”

  “Shit. We have to go up that way, report your car stolen, and then you can have him pick you up from there. It doesn’t matter where your car was stolen. You need the report to say you were in Buckhead.”

  “What about video cameras up there? It will show that I left.”

  “Trust me, for a stolen car, they won’t go to those extremes. They’ll file a report, put the car on a list, and that’s about it. If they happen to find it, you’re lucky. It’s important to you, but the cops will say there are more important crimes for them to pursue.”

  They went back inside, where Lorenzo went upstairs to change clothes. Rhonda texted Eric.

  We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. You want something while I’m out?

  A few minutes later, Eric returned her text.

  Nothing to get out this late but into trouble.

  That text made Rhonda uneasy. She pondered how to respond, but came up with nothing. So she didn’t.

  On the drive to Buckhead, she and Lorenzo were quiet for a while. Her mind was all over the place. It bounced around from her car being stolen, to her infidelity to her husband and marriage, to having to purchase a new car, to Lorenzo and how much more she liked him.

  Lorenzo’s mind raced, too. He thought of what his neighborhood was coming to that a car could be stolen from his driveway, how he had the ideal scenario with Rhonda—sex with no ties, how, as much as he enjoyed that and liked Rhonda, that she was another man’s wife and how dangerous that could be.

  “Is your husband the type to go off, to shoot me if he saw us together?”

  “What? No. Eric is calm—too calm, if you ask me. But he did go crazy that time I spent the night at your house. I hadn’t seen that look in his eyes or heard him yell and curse like that in a long time. He scared me.”

  “That’s great to hear.”

  “I’m sorry, but you asked.”

  “That’s part of the downside to this, Rhonda. If he found out, he could lose it and come looking for me with a shotgun, a knife, a bow and arrow. Anything.”

  Rhonda laughed. “A bow and arrow?”

  “I’m just saying that he could put all this on me and want to take me out.”

  “That’s not Eric. And he’s not going to find out. I can’t have that.”

  They arrived at Whisky Mistress and found a parking lot in a nearby strip mall that looked plausible for a car theft. Rhonda called police and it took about twenty minutes for a cop to
show up.

  “Damn, that’s how they take car thefts? They take their time coming out? That’s crazy.”

  “On the crime meter, it’s on the low end.”

  Rhonda shook her head. She called Eric.

  “Eric, you’re not going to believe this, but my car was stolen. . . It’s gone. I had some drinks, but I know where I parked. . . No, they wouldn’t tow it. It’s a parking lot. Other cars are still here. . . The police came and I filed a report. I can catch Uber home. . . You will? Okay. . . It’s lit over there. . . There are a few people here, but not many. . . Okay. Thank you.”

  She turned to Lorenzo. “He’s coming to get me.”

  “You can sit with me for about ten minutes. He should be here in fifteen or so.”

  “Do you think they will find my car?”

  “A better question is whether your car being stolen is a sign that we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “I should be asking that question, not you.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I don’t want to think about that right now. I’m hoping they find my car. I paid it off two months ago. I have no interest in another car note any time soon.”

  “I understand that and insurance will cover that if it comes down to it. But do you believe in omens? Karma?”

  “Not really? If I did, I’d be scared to death of what’s going to happen to me. And it would be something bigger than having my car stolen, I’m sure of that.”

  Lorenzo smiled. “I guess that could be true, huh?”

  “I’m going to get out. You should go. I don’t want Eric to see me getting out of your car.”

  “I would try to hug and kiss you, but you didn’t seem to want that earlier. So, I’ll simply say good luck.”

  Seven minutes later, Eric pulled up in his Lexus truck. The music was blaring. He had a drink in his hand.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Just having a drink, that’s all. Want some?”

  “I’ve had enough. Turn down that music.”

  Eric obliged. “So, where was your car parked?”

  Rhonda pointed. “Over there.”

  Eric drove up to the spot. She pointed again.

  “Right there?”

  “Yes.”

  He got out of the car and inspected the parking space she’d identified.

  “No glass on the ground. Must have been a real pro.”

  Rhonda nodded her head and thought, That was the same thing Lorenzo said.

  Eric got back into the car. “I guess this spoiled a good night for you.”

  “We had fun. But, yeah, my heart dropped when my car wasn’t where I left it.”

  “Well, you have the police report. And it’s insured, so finally we can get some value out of that. But they’ll likely find it somewhere abandoned nearby in a day or so. Thankfully you didn’t have your laptop in there.”

  “I know, right? I’m frustrated you had to come here. And if they don’t find it, I really don’t want to have to shop for a new car.”

  Eric did not respond to her comment. He had a buzz.

  “I’ve been thinking about your problem with my weight and I’ve decided that it shouldn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve been a good husband to you. I have given you everything I could, except a child. I wanted to do that, but you didn’t want kids. We’ve had our issues, gotten past them and been strong. I’m that same guy who paid for you to get your master’s degree and who took you on your first trip out of the country to Paris.

  “You’ve spent the last several weeks making me feel bad about myself, when I don’t have anything to feel bad about. I’ve been reliable. We don’t have any bills. We’re comfortable. But you’re not happy? But I’m not good enough?”

  Rhonda felt guilty. And foolish. Eric’s points were on point.

  “I didn’t say you were not good enough for me,” he went on. “And I didn’t say I wasn’t happy. I’ve been trying to say that I want us to be like we were. I have gained maybe some weight since we’ve been married. But so have you. You don’t hear me complaining.”

  “I want you to be attracted to me. I want you to desire me. That’s the number one reason, Eric. I work at staying together. That’s important to me. I need you to have the same attitude about me, about being attractive for me, about me desiring you. I know how hard it can be to maintain the interest when you see someone every day. That’s why I try to look good for you. That’s why I wear a nightie to bed every night.

  “At the same time, Eric, you don’t do anything to make me feel attracted to you.”

  “I’m here.”

  “But honey, that’s not enough. We’ve been in a rut for a long time. Let’s face it. And I don’t think it’s shallow to want my husband to look good and to be healthy. You eat crazy, and you know it. To eat healthy is self-respect. I don’t think you’re respecting yourself.”

  They pulled into their subdivision. Eric did not respond for a few seconds. When they turned on their street, he said, “And you’re respecting me?”

  “I’m not disrespecting you.”

  “Oh, you’re not?”

  Rhonda did not hear Eric because her attention was elsewhere. As they pulled up to their home, she noticed a car in their driveway. The closer they got, the more the vehicle came into focus. It was her car.

  Eric pushed the remote control to the garage door, drove past Rhonda’s Audi 5000 and into the garage. He turned off the car and sat there, looking straight ahead. Rhonda’s heart pounded out of her chest.

  She was shocked and mortified—and scared. She did not know what to say, so she sat there in silence.

  Eric got tired of hearing nothing. “Isn’t that your car in the driveway?”

  “How did it get there, Eric?”

  “I thought you told me it was stolen from Buckhead.”

  “Eric. . .”

  “What? I really want to hear this.”

  “How did my car get here?”

  “I drove it here, that’s how.” Eric’s voice rose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Rhonda jumped out of the car and lowered the garage. She was sure Eric’s voice would carry so loudly that the neighbors would hear. She didn’t want that.

  Eric followed her into the house. She was not sure how to play it, so she tried to flip it.

  “Why are you playing games? Why would you take my car? That’s so childish.”

  “No, actually, it was brilliant. I needed to see who I was dealing with. If you told me the truth about where your car was, then I’d know you weren’t up to no good. But you lied, which told me everything. You’re a cheating bitch!”

  “Don’t call me a bitch.”

  “I didn’t. I called you a cheating bitch.”

  “I’m not dealing with you. You’re drunk and you’re evil.”

  “You’re half right. I’m evil because that’s how I need to be to deal with a devil. You’re fucking some guy who lives in the same neighborhood. Fucking him while I sit at home waiting for you. And I’m the bad boy fat guy?”

  “Who said I fucked anybody? How did you make that leap?”

  “You told me by all the lying you’re doing. You would not go all the way to Buckhead to stage a car theft if you weren’t fucking him. He’s the same guy you probably were with that night you claimed you spent with Olivia.”

  “What? Where did you get that?”

  “From you. Just now. You didn’t deny it. Plus, Olivia told me you haven’t been to her place in months.”

  “You called Olivia?”

  “Right after I used the spare key to drive your car home.”

  “Eric. . . ”

  “I’m listening. But I don’t know if I should because everything that comes out of your mouth is a fucking lie.”

  Rhonda was not prepared to address the onslaught of questions Eric had. All she had were lies.

  “Look, I’m not trying to get out of control here, Rhonda. I know everything. Now it’s about if you can be honest with m
e at all. You tell me the truth right now or it’s over. Period.”

  Rhonda had no other recourse. She did not have a lie that would save her as a last resort. The truth, though, was ugly. Her only option, she believed, was to be forthcoming. But she needed an answer to a question first.

  “Well, Eric, please tell me how you got my car.”

  “I shouldn’t tell you shit. But I will, just because. I was headed to the grocery store around eleven when I saw you coming into the subdivision as I was leaving. I thought you saw me; I waved at you. You didn’t see me, I guess. I whipped a U-turn, expecting you to be headed home. But you turned right instead of going straight.

  “By the time I got to the street and turned, you were walking to the door of some house that was not ours and some dude opened it. I was so angry and so. . . hurt. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to knock on the door. But I decided to text you, which you ignored. I sat in front of that house for at least thirty minutes. Then I decided to go home, walk back over there with the spare key and take the car—and then see what you would do.

  “So I came home and waited. I made me a drink. Then another and another and another. . . I think. I lost track. Just when I was about to come over there, you texted me to say you were headed home. I knew it was about to get interesting. And then you called back with the lies. That’s it. Your turn.”

  Rhonda felt helpless. There was nothing left to tell but the truth.

  “I met this guy—”

  “What’s his name?”

  “His name doesn’t matter. And please don’t do or say anything to him.”

  “Look at you—trying to protect your boyfriend. Listen, you cheating whore, I may be drunk, but I ain’t stupid. Why would I attack him? It’s not his fault. He did what he was supposed to do, as a man. A married woman offers him sex, nine times out of ten, he’s going to take it. It’s stupid for the spouse to get upset with the person your husband or wife is cheating with—unless it’s a friend or relative. If it’s a stranger, that person should not be your target. You’re my wife. You’re my target. Now tell me the truth.”

  “Eric, I don’t know what to say. I told you I was upset about your weight and I got really upset when you basically told me it didn’t matter how you looked or if we did anything exciting. I thought that was wrong and it created a divide.