Maybe a job was just what she needed. It would give her some clout of her own. She would be somebody besides Mrs. Bradford Bentley. She was going to call Marilyn and ask her about real estate classes at Long and Foster as soon as she finished her nap. She yawned, put on her eye mask and pulled the covers up.
As soon as her head touched the pillow, she jumped back up. She had felt something odd under the pillowcase. She moved her hand around inside until her fingers touched something soft and wispy, like nylon. She yanked it out, snatched the mask off her eyes and held it up. A black G-string stared back at her. She had never owned such a thing in her entire life.
Dammit. She gritted her teeth to stop the scream from exiting her throat. The fabric felt like a hot flame on her fingers. She threw it on the floor and kicked off the bedcovers. She couldn’t take this anymore. She was going to kick that bastard out now and then call the lawyer.
She grabbed the G-string, held it out between two fingers and ran out of the room and down the stairs without bothering with the silk slippers sitting neatly at the edge of her bed. She skipped down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
When her bare feet reached the carpeted basement, she was breathless. But she didn’t stop. She ran straight into the media room. He wasn’t there, so she spun around and ran down the hallway to the exercise room. Bradford was lying flat on his back on a bench, lifting a 150-pound weight. She ran up beside him and threw the scanty G-string in his face. It caught on his nose and dangled down his cheek.
“You bastard!” she shouted. “I am so damned sick of this.”
“What the hell!” He shook the G-string off his face, then carefully dropped the weight into the rack. He sat up on the bench and glared at her. “Jesus, Barbara!” he exclaimed. “You scared the crap out of me! Do you know how dangerous that is? You trying to kill me or something?”
Oh, he was good, she thought. Trying to turn the tables on her. Well, he should be good at this. He’d had plenty of practice. “What is that?” she yelled, pointing to the offending object. “I demand to know. And I want the truth.”
He reached on the floor for the G-string and held it up. He narrowed his eyes. “Where did this come from?”
“You tell me,” she snapped. “I found it inside my pillowcase just now.”
“You found this inside your pillowcase?” He looked as surprised as she’d been when she’d found it.
“Yes. And it wasn’t there this morning. Who does it belong to? Sabrina? Or have you already moved on to someone else?”
“Barbara, really. I’ve never even seen this before. Are you sure it isn’t yours?”
Barbara stomped her foot. He knew good and darn well it wasn’t hers. “I won’t have this going on in my house, Bradford, or any of your nonsense anymore. I’m sick of it.”
He held his palms out, faceup. “If I try to explain what I think may have happened, you won’t believe me.”
“You’re right, I won’t, because you always lie. Whoever left this for me to find is sick.”
He stood up. “I agree. I’m really sorry about all this.”
“And … and as far as I’m concerned you can pack …” She paused and stared at him suspiciously. Come again? He was agreeing with her? And apologizing? He must be up to another one of his tricks. “Don’t bother apologizing. And don’t bother lying. I don’t want to hear it. Just—”
“I admit it, she was here.”
Barbara stopped cold. “Who was here? Sabrina?”
Bradford let out a deep breath of air and nodded his head. He looked eager to talk about it. “She showed up at the golf course this morning and caused a big scene in front of my buddies, so I left and came home. A few minutes after I got here, she rang the bell.”
“So you took her to our bedroom and had sex with her?” Barbara sneered. “That solves everything, doesn’t it, Bradford?”
“I didn’t take her into the bedroom, and I didn’t have sex with her. Hell, I didn’t even know she was up there. I know it looks like I did, if you found this.” He held up the G-string, his face appropriately twisted with disgust.
She narrowed her eyes with doubt. “I don’t believe you, Bradford.”
“I’m telling the truth. Honest to God, I swear it. I let her in, and we talked in the living room for a few minutes. Or argued, rather. Then, after about ten minutes, she said she needed to use the bathroom. I guess she snuck upstairs and slipped this inside your pillowcase. She was planning to do this all along.”
“How does she even know which side of the bed I sleep on?” Barbara snapped.
He let out a deep breath. “Oh … well.”
“You’ve had her here before, haven’t you?”
He nodded reluctantly.
“In our bedroom?”
He nodded again.
Barbara swallowed hard. This was new. As disgusting as it was, he was admitting it. “How many times?”
“Only once—about three months ago.”
“Where was I?”
“On that overnight shopping trip to London, when you took the Concorde with Rebecca and Robin.”
“Oh, Bradford. How could you?” She nearly sobbed. “It’s not enough to screw her, you had to do it in our bed?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry about this whole thing with her. It was stupid. But at least I’m trying to be honest with you now.”
Barbara was beginning to think that maybe she was better off not knowing.
“And I’ve got another problem,” he said.
She frowned. What more could there be?
“It’s turning into a Fatal Attraction kind of thing, and I’m worried.”
Barbara’s frown deepened. “What do you mean, ‘fatal attraction’?”
“She’s been harassing me almost daily. She calls the office five, six times a day. She shows up at the golf course.”
“This is ridiculous, Bradford!” Barbara exclaimed in alarm. “I don’t want her coming anywhere near me or our daughters.”
“She would never do anything like that,” he said firmly. “She’s wild but not crazy.”
Barbara wasn’t so sure. She thought about Sabrina coming at her with a butcher knife just before Rebecca’s wedding. “You need to call the police and get a restraining order.”
“What will I say to them? That a woman has been following me around? Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. I’m thinking of getting away for a week or two to give it a chance to cool off.”
Barbara tried to calm down. “Do you think that will help?”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Listen, why don’t you come with me?”
“Excuse me?”
“Our thirtieth anniversary is coming up,” he said. “I was thinking that we could spend a few days at the condo in Wintergreen or drive to the Greenbrier resort. We always talk about going there. Or at least we used to talk about it.”
Barbara couldn’t believe her ears. He wanted them to go away together? They’d grown so far apart, she wouldn’t even know how to act alone with him for any length of time. “You aren’t serious, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I know it’s been a while since we’ve done anything like that. You even hinted around about divorce a few weeks back. But that’s not what I want. A trip would probably do us a world of good.”
Barbara clutched her hands uneasily. His behavior was confusing her. A few moments ago, she had been about to do a lot more than hint—she was going to throw him out. She chuckled hesitantly. “I don’t know, Bradford. Things have been so bad between us for so long. Sometimes I think maybe we should just …” Did she dare say it? He was being so honest with her for a change. Did she really want to give up on their marriage?
“Maybe what?” he asked impatiently.
Barbara looked down at her fingers.
“We’ve built quite a life together, Barbara. We really should try to work things out. I’m willing to try if you are.”
She was silent for a moment. What if they we
re beyond trying? No, no. She couldn’t think like that. This was her marriage they were talking about. She had been Mrs. Bradford Bentley for thirty years now. “All right,” she said softly. “I’m willing to give it a try.”
“I’m thinking of getting involved in David Manley’s campaign for P.G. county executive.”
Jolene lowered the mystery novel she was reading to the bedcovers and turned to face her husband, standing on the other side of their king-size bed and removing his robe and slippers. He had just come up from watching TV in the family room.
“Huh?”
“I said, I may get involved with David Manley. I went by his campaign office last week. The election is coming up in November and they need volunteers.”
She flipped her weave off her shoulders and picked her novel back up. “Right, Patrick.”
“I’m serious.”
She eyed him from above the book as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “What about your job?”
He shrugged. “This would be part-time, evenings and weekends.”
She placed the novel facedown on the bed. “Where is this coming from, Patrick? You’ve never said one word about getting involved in politics before this very moment. I didn’t even know you were interested in politics. This is coming clear out of the blue.”
“Well, all you ever want to talk about these days is the house we’re building. But I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I’ve got a lot of ideas for Silver Lake and the surrounding area. I may even run for office myself one day.”
Jolene rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Patience, patience, she told herself.
“Make fun if you want,” he said. “But I’m serious about this. I’m really concerned about the kids around here, especially the young boys and the public school system. You drive a few miles up the road and they’re hanging out on the street in their baggy jeans and black caps starting trouble.”
“I admit it’s a problem. But we live in a gated community, and Juliette is in private school.” She shrugged.
“But those young boys are still our neighbors. They’re more than that. They’re our future.”
“Patrick, that’s all very honorable, but what can you do about it?”
“Some community projects might help, like a sports center, after-school programs.”
Jolene scoffed. “Patrick, please. What half of them need is prison. Look, I don’t mean to make fun, but c’mon. You know nothing about politics. Spend that extra time you’re planning to work on Manley’s campaign at Digitech if you need something to do. We could use the money.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere, and I’m tired of sitting behind a desk all day. I interact more with the computer than with people. I need a change.”
Jolene waved her hand. “Fine. It’s a free country.”
“Are you with me? I offered to plan and organize a fund-raiser in Silver Lake. They liked my ideas, and you’d be good at that.”
Jolene shook her head firmly and held her hand out. “Uh-uh. Go ahead if you want, but don’t ask me to get involved. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is with work and the new house. And I want to have a big housewarming party soon after we move in. We can invite—”
“Jolene, that’s not what I want to talk about now,” he said impatiently. “I could really use your help on the fund-raiser. It’s a chance for us to do something together and get involved with the community.”
“We are doing something together. We’re building a house.”
“No. You’re building a house.”
“See?” she said. “If that’s your attitude about the house when you know it’s important to me, why should I give a damn about this politics thing? My father was a judge until he retired, and you know I hate anything to do with politics.”
“Your father was appointed.”
“It was still very political.”
He sighed. “Can I at least get your word that you won’t interfere with my effort?”
“I said it was fine. As long as you don’t ask me to help and don’t use our money.”
“What money?” he asked sarcastically. “You’re spending it all on the damn house.”
She rolled her eyes and picked up her novel. She stared at the pages, but she was only pretending to read. How could she focus on fiction after he had just dropped this bombshell?
He lay down beside her and propped his head up with his hand, facing her. “What’s that you’re reading?”
“A novel, as if you care,” she said curtly.
He chuckled. “You know, you still look sexy to me when you get upset.”
She felt his hand move to her thigh under the covers. What the hell was getting into him? He knew they only had sex the first weekend of the month. And she certainly wasn’t in the mood now, not after his surprise announcement about getting involved in politics. She quickly shoved his hand away. “Not now, Patrick. I’m reading. Or trying to.”
He threw the covers off and stood up. He grabbed his robe and stormed out the door, probably to go back down to the family room and watch TV. Thank God. She was still savoring her lunch hour of passion the day before with Terrence. The last thing she was in the mood for now was Patrick.
She slammed the novel shut. Politics? Running for office? This was so unlike Patrick. Years ago, after he finally got his college degree in computer programming from the University of D.C., he had toyed around with the idea of starting his own computer firm. That spark of ingenuity had lasted for about a month. These days he went to work, then came home and parked his butt in front of the TV until he went to bed.
Politicians were leaders, and leaders were motivators. Patrick couldn’t even motivate his own lazy butt. So where the hell did he get some notion that he could run for public office? She blinked as a bizarre thought hit her.
Could another woman be behind this? Jolene shook her head. Nah. Affairs took lots of planning and scheming and running about. Patrick didn’t have it in him.
She’d give his idea a few weeks to play out. Let him tinker around at the edges of this crazy scheme and see how time-consuming it was. Then she would push him to ask for a promotion at work. They needed more money for the new house. This was no time for him to be thinking and acting like a damn fool.
She chuckled and opened the novel. Running for political office. Patrick? Puh-leeze.
Chapter 15
“How could you do this to me, Mom?” Ashley asked scornfully. “I’m furious with you.”
Candice barely had a chance to get out of her Ford Taurus before Ashley pounced on her. “What on earth are you talking about, Ashley?”
“I’m talking about you snooping behind my back,” Ashley snapped. “That’s what I’m talking about. You called Jolene Brown and asked her about Kenyatta. You’re spying on me.”
Candice shut the car door. She needed a second to think this through because she was guilty as hell. But how on earth had Ashley found out about it? As far as she knew, Jolene had no relationship with Kenyatta or his mother.
“I’m not spying on you,” Candice corrected her calmly. “I simply asked Jolene a few questions about him.”
“Oh my God. I am so not hearing this. What did you ask her? And why didn’t you come to me if you had questions about him?”
Candice walked up the path leading to the house, and Ashley followed close on her heels. Candice told herself to stay calm. Otherwise this would turn into a shouting match. The truth was that she felt a little guilty about what she’d done, especially since nothing much had come of it.
“Jolene, I hate to even bother you about this, but, well … it’s been on my mind.”
“I’m sure it has, Candice. But I really don’t know much about Kenyatta, or Pearl for that matter, or anyone else who lives in those town houses. You might try calling Barbara Bentley, since Pearl does her hair.”
“Well, that’s the problem. You see, if Ashley ever found out I was doing this, she’d be furious. And Barbara might say something to Pearl.
So …”
“Hmm. I see what you mean, Candice. Well, I do know another woman who goes to Pearl’s salon. I’ll call her and get back to you.”
“Would you, Jolene? I can’t thank you enough. And for what it’s worth, this has nothing to do with Kenyatta being, you know … with him being black. It’s more about his age. He’s older than Ashley. And the hair. He seems so … so radical. Now, for all I know he could be a fine young man. But I … I just want to be sure, you know. I’d do the same thing if he was white and older with purple hair or something. You know I—”
“I understand, Candice. No problem.”
Candice opened the front door and stepped into the foyer. It had been almost a month since she had placed that call to Jolene, but so far she had heard nothing back from her neighbor. Candice didn’t know whether it was because Jolene couldn’t dig up anything about the Jacksons or whether she had decided that she didn’t want to spy on Kenyatta for her white neighbor.
Candice placed her shopping bag on a side table in the foyer, then turned to face Ashley. “I asked Jolene what she knew about him and his mother,” she said calmly. “That’s all.”
Ashley folded her arms across her waistline defiantly. “That’s not what I heard.”
“Well, what did you hear?”
“That you asked Jolene to find some dirt on them.”
“That’s not true.” Candice knew that she wasn’t exactly innocent, but it was going too far to say that she had asked for dirt. No way. She had simply asked for more information. Now if dirt had come up … well.
Obviously, Jolene had talked to someone. But who? And what did she say? Thanks, neighbor.
“Well, you must have said something to Jolene,” Ashley said suspiciously.
“Who told you this, anyway?”
“Don’t even go there, Mom,” Ashley said indignantly. “How could you do this to me?”
P. G. County Page 10
