by Unknown
“Just a few more minutes and you won’t feel anything,” she comforted herself.
Picking up the phone, she dialed the only friends she had left in this entire world. With desperation she tried to fight against the tears that were building but ended up sobbing through the tirade to her annoyed sister.
“Shea, calm down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” Sharlice said into the phone before screaming at ShyAnne, “Get in here. Shea needs us.”
Another line connected with a click. “What is it, darling? Please tell me it’s not that no good husband of yours again.”
“ShyAnne, you’re not helping,” Sharlice chided, then her voice softened, “What’s wrong, Shea?”
“It’s her,” Shea hissed. Another intense wave of fury caused her skin to heat, the tears sizzling away. “Turn on your television. She’s back.”
“What are you talking about?” ShyAnne snorted.
“When I spoke to Rich on Tuesday, he said he was coming home in a few days. Well, it’s Friday and she’s home. So where the hell is my husband? Home! That’s where he is. He has to be with her. I just know it.” Her voice cracked as the final words of the rant left her mouth and her throat constricted with the emotions of that knowledge.
“You don’t know that. Maybe he’s…”
“He’s what?” Shea interrupted. “Having a sleepover like some kind of child? Come on, don’t patronize me. You have said all along, ShyAnne, that you thought this Kate girl was trouble. Do you not remember the text messages at Thanksgiving? Now I have proof that’s he been using that little slut for the sex he’s not getting from me.”
The doorbell rang, and Shea’s heart jumped into her throat. “Hold on, girls, that might just be him.” Her hurried pace was accentuated by the clicking of her heels on the oak hardwood. She hurried down the few stairs to get to the door, excitement replacing the worry that had been eating at her. Maybe he did still love her.
As she dropped the phone from her ear, she heard Sharlice mumble, “Wouldn’t he have a key?”
After taking a deep breath, her enthusiastic hands smoothed down the front of her blouse, then ripped the door open as her body prepared itself to jump into the arms of her husband. But everything skidded to a halt when a man she didn’t recognize was standing on the porch. His dark blue jacket was halfway zipped, his starched white shirt barely visible underneath as he shifted nervous weight from one foot to the other. He smiled, his white teeth standing out against his olive-toned skin. “Shea Spencer?”
“Yes.” Surprise struck, radiating through her like the vibrations of a tuning fork.
The man she’d thought was a salesman knew her name. “This is for you.” He handed her an official looking envelope. “Please sign here,” he said, extending his clipboard.
Shea scribbled her signature then, in a completely dazed state, closed the door. Her heart hammered in her chest, knowing what the manila envelope contained and not wanting to see the white and blue papers that would mean the end of her marriage. She’d worked for a law firm and recognized being served. Cotton replaced her tongue and, despite the incessant urge to vomit, she couldn’t find the saliva to moisten it.
Numb fingers slid beneath the seal and slid the contents out. It was exactly what she’d expected; Rich wanted a divorce.
The room started to spin and her mind couldn’t focus. As her knees began to give out, she gave into the laws of gravity and sank to the floor just as tears flowed down her cheeks. Anguish took over and her shoulders shook with sobs. This wasn’t happening. Not again. She would not let another man walk out of her life to leave her for a woman they found more attractive or more interesting or whatever the hell Rich saw in the pale-skinned, mousy Kate Callahan.
The thoughts only added to the jealousy and anger that were quickly overtaking the pity, sadness and fear.
“Shea! Shea!” The muffled shouts from her sisters came from the phone that had fallen to the floor next to her. “Shea, are you there?”
Shaky hands fumbled with the phone, somehow managing to find her ear. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Who was it?” Sharlice asked.
“Yeah, since we’re guessing it wasn’t Rich,” ShyAnne sneered his name.
“He wants a divorce.” Shea sounded so surprised, and honestly she was. She and Rich had a great marriage—once. They had both had their share of infidelity, but they had worked through it. She had forgiven him for sleeping with Kate months ago, and well, he never knew about hers, so it was as though it never happened. Her lips tipped upward at the corners. He really is a fool to not have noticed. Did he think I’d taken up a vow of celibacy in the months Reese and I had been working so many hours of overtime? I didn’t want to have sex with my husband and cheat on my lover.
Just thinking about Reese had her body overheating with the desire he always sparked in her. With his sleek black hair and intoxicating steel gray eyes, and a body that belonged in a magazine, he had her from the first smile of his perfect lips.
Despite all that, Rich belonged to Shea. He had a kind heart, a sexy body, and had vowed to give her both…until death, do they part. Death, do us part. ‘Til death, do you part.
“Girls, I’ve got to go,” Shea told her sisters. Their voices asked a thousand questions she didn’t have time to answer, interrupting the thoughts that were quickly becoming a plan of revenge and retribution. “Listen, I really need to do something. I’ll call you later.”
“Shea,” the tone of Sharlice’s voice was a warning, “don’t do anything stupid.”
“You know me,” Shea reminded them.
“That’s what has us worried,” ShyAnne said under her breath.
Shea chose to ignore the snide comment and focus on what needed to happen in the upcoming hours. If she played her cards right, she would be completely vindicated by tonight—and that two-timing bastard, she once called her beloved would get what was coming to him. The corner of her lip curled into a smirk. With any luck, his whore will be with him.
The smile on her face grew as the plans began to come together in her mind. She knew exactly what she would do. The events unfolded in her mind just as though the future was revealing itself.
After changing into something more comfortable—and more conducive to her plans—Shea made her way over to the scene of Rich’s betrayal. She’d seen this little apartment before, even parked in the same spot in the parking lot. The same elderly man with his poodle passed her in the hall as she walked toward the lock that would be so easy to pick again.
Reese had taught her that little trick too, every time they went to his wife’s family’s little cabin that sat completely secluded up the canyon.
The older gentleman smiled, and Shea returned the gesture. The white furball cradled in his arms growled at her, but the sound was quickly muffled by an age-spotted hand. “Sorry, miss, he’s usually so friendly.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled, then continued her journey.
Standing outside the familiar door, she revisited the satisfaction of a few days ago when she easily shredded the various pieces of satin, lace, and feathers that once had adorned the spindly body of that hussy. The slut did have good taste though, nothing off the Wal-Mart clearance rack in that girl’s panty drawer. It seemed to have all been from Victoria’s Secret, Frederick’s, or some online lingerie peddler. Shea hoped Rich wouldn’t recognize the expensive, all leather bustier and panty combo she didn’t have the heart to shred.
The door was open in a matter of seconds, and Shea again crossed the threshold into the den of sin. It was quite different from what she’d left behind. The picture in the entry—the one of the man-stealing hussy on the back of her poor unknowing boyfriend—no longer wore the mark of her cheating. Shea frowned. It had looked so much better with ‘whore’ written across it. But someone had carefully cleaned off the red lipstick.
“Well, that just won’t do,” Shea whispered, pulling the tube out of her purse and raising it to fix what someone
had destroyed. But if Rich cleaned it off… Her hand paused midair. She certainly didn’t want to give any warning that something was amiss. If Rich had been the one to wipe the stain from the face of his mistress and her boyfriend… He’s an even bigger fool than I thought.
The tube slid easily back into her bag and she continued to survey the scene that had been returned to order. Inside the bedroom, curiosity got the best of her, and she slid the drawer open to find only a black nightie occupying the spot that had once been overflowing. Her fingers slid over the fabric, and she could imagine the dark lace against her pale skin as Rich’s hands eagerly removed it. He had a way of making the process of unwrapping his lover more erotic than the actuality of making love.
Her tongue slid over her bottom lip before teeth bit it, she anticipated the reunion and redeclaration of their undying love for each other. She tossed the black lace over her shoulder and continued her search of the tidy apartment.
The bathroom was lit by the late afternoon sun that poured through the glass block windows. Her feet carried her further into the room only to pause in front of the mirror that nearly covered the entire wall above the sink. Big blue eyes widened, horrified by the unbecoming outfit.
“Drab does not suit you.”
If she was going to win Rich back from the little whore, this boring, all black cotton and denim get-up would not bring him running into her arms. Shea reached for the hem of her t-shirt and ripped it over her head, exposing a black bra.
The counter that had been empty when she visited last was now full of the lotions and perfumes that had been a key to gaining her love’s heart. On the edge of the bathtub was a bottle of shampoo and bubble bath that must have also been in Arizona with the home-wrecking slut. One swift flick of her thumb, and her sinuses were overcome with the sickeningly sweet scent of coconut. Her initial reaction to the hideous smell was punctuated by a sneeze, and she closed the lid, setting the bottle back down on the edge of the tub before turning the knobs to start the water pouring into the large, white basin.
After adding a dollop of vanilla scented bubble bath, Shea turned back toward the counter and ran her fingers over the various bottles arranged there. A spray of perfume dissipated into the air, and Shea sniffed, inhaling the scent that Kate had been wearing the one time she had been close to her. Another exaggerated sniff and her body suddenly ached to bathe in the scent of the woman who had stolen her husband’s heart.
As the tub filled with water and bubbles, the scent of vanilla wafted through the air. Shea quickly shed the rest of her boring clothes, stuffed them into her bag then eased down into the hot water and relaxing foam.
“Mmm.” A moan escaped her lips. “I have to give it to her, Kate has great taste in men and bubble bath.” Rapid heartbeats sent anxiety speeding through her bloodstream, and she filled her lungs with a vanilla-coated breath and tried to relax by reminding herself that the skank still had hours before she’d even be leaving the station. Her eyes were suddenly very heavy and drifted closed despite her best mental arguments. Her head rested against the cold porcelain.
Shea awoke with a start. Cold water caressed her skin in bubbleless waves. The dim light proved that it’d been more than just a catnap. She jumped out of the tub, grabbed the towel off the rack, and quickly dried off her pruned skin. A few swipes of the putrid lotion that smelled like a florist’s shop, and she slipped the lace and satin over her head. Turning from one side to the other, she admired the beautiful woman staring back at her.
“How could he not love this?” she whispered through a smile as her hands smoothed the satin over her flat stomach. Heels. I need to find a pair of heels.
Fifteen steps back into the bedroom brought her into a pathetically small closet where the perfect pair of shoes was lying haphazardly on the floor; black, four-inch, patent leather platforms that would bring her lips even closer to Rich’s.
Holding the door jamb for support, Shea slipped her toes into the beautiful shoe. It was a tight fit even without her heel in the pump. There’s a price for beauty, Shea! A thrust and a groan later, and her feet were completely encased in their shoe-shaped vises, which sent cramping pains up her calves.
With cautious, painful steps, she walked toward the bed, suddenly very curious as to what kinds of things Rich’s precious whore kept in the nightstand next to her bed. A notebook, a pen, and a remote control.
What, no condoms? Was the hussy trying to trap Rich with an ‘unplanned’ pregnancy? Before he came back to Shea’s bed, a blood test would have to be taken, to prove that he hadn’t contracted anything from the little tramp. A shudder ran up and down her spine at the thought of what Kate might have given him.
Absent-minded hands thumbed through the notebook, finding only empty pages. Her heart skipped a beat as a picture fluttered toward the floor. Every jealous cell in her body recognized the glimpse of the man. Rich.
She picked up the picture between her index finger and thumb to verify what she already knew. He was seated casually in a chair, facing the camera, with his hands resting on his thighs. His eyes were twinkling right through the paper, flirting with her, loving her while his lips pulled into his signature smirk. All the relaxation of her bath vanished in a flash, replaced by fury. Turning it over exposed familiar handwriting that nearly brought her to her knees.
Never forget that I love you.
Her hand wrapped itself around the photograph, crushing it into a ball before she threw it back into the drawer. She then made her retreat to the kitchen. The clicking of the shoes was annoyingly loud as they met the tile near the stove.
“What to use…? What to use…?” The unnatural sound of her voice caused the hair on the back of her own neck stand on end. But a case of goose pimples was not going to keep her from a bit of revenge.
Her hand wrapped comfortably around the handle of the largest knife in the butcher’s block just as a key slid into the lock. Now was the moment she’d anticipated. A glance over her shoulder revealed a closet that meant her only chance at a surprise attack.
Shea snuggled in against a jacket, which surely would have fit a Neanderthal, and sniffed the glorious smell of leather mixed with the natural cologne of the man who owned it. A stab of pain nearly brought tears to her eyes as she thought of the other scorned side of this horrible situation. Poor Jesse didn’t deserve what he was getting. If things didn’t work out with her and Rich, she would volunteer to comfort Jesse’s pain away.
Through the crack in the door, Shea could see Rich as he entered the apartment carrying roses, a paper bag, and a bottle of wine. The smile of his gorgeous face was breathtaking as he put the wine in the refrigerator and the vase of already blooming red roses on the table.
The first couple of buttons were open on his shirt, showing off the strength and sculpted perfection of his chest. The white of his shirt was a striking contrast to the black slacks that clung to all the right parts of his muscular legs and rear. He had been the most handsome man she’d ever seen, and the day he married her was one of the best of her life.
Crinkling paper brought her out of her ogling, and she watched while strong hands gently spread rose petals from the front door toward the bedroom. Anxious, sweat covered her body as if someone had doused her with water as her mind’s eye pictured the scene in the bathroom. The tub was still full and her bag still sat in the middle of the floor spewing the clothes she’d been wearing.
Water rushed through the pipes in the wall behind her, and deductive reasoning wasn’t needed to know that Rich had pulled the plug. She prayed he didn’t look too closely at the contents of the bag.
A happy little tune in the form of whistling came into the room before Rich did. When he came into view from her vantage point, he was just pulling something out of his pocket. Her curiosity piqued. She strained her eyes in hopes of seeing better. When the ring box came into view, vomit crept its way up the back of her throat.
Tears burned her eyes. I’m such a fool. Her fingers gripped the handle t
ight preparing to make her attack. We’re not even divorced yet.
“Oh, Kate.” The masculine sigh stung her heart. He sounded so happy. “I will make you mine tonight.” He pressed the ring to his lips and stuffed it back into his pocket. His next movements were quick and concise, lighting candles and making the apartment the most romantic place she’d ever seen.
Rich’s proposal to Kate was going to be so much more romantic than the quickie, Vegas wedding Shea got. After spending three and a half years at UNLV, she coaxed a proposal and wedding out of Rich. The timing had to be perfect. She’d waited for an alcohol-induced, passion-filled weekend when his parents and Nate weren’t around to object. Would he have even married her if she hadn’t dragged him in front of the King while he’d been so heavily intoxicated?
Self pity was not an emotion she wanted to feel in this moment. Anger was. Shea concentrated on the events unfolding in front of her eyes. If she hurried, she could do a little slice and dice, get her revenge by taking away the man Kate loved, killing the two-timing bastard who had committed a betrayal.
Her hand pushed gently against the door but when it squeaked, she paused. This would have to be quick. A deep cleansing breath stretched her lungs and she prepared to attack as soon as his back was turned. The wood in the palm of her hand was warm from being held so long. She switched hands, wiping off any sweat that might be there.
They say the first cut is the deepest and she intended to make hers count. He would know what hit him, and he would know who had delivered the fatal blow. She would do to Rich’s heart what he had done to hers—leave it broken and unable to function.
A key in the lock caused Rich to pause, his shirt expanded to capacity as his lungs filled with air. He was obviously nervous, but not for the thing he should be. The slut would say yes—if Shea gave him the chance to propose.
The door opened and his lips pulled into a smile when he saw her. Kate gasped, her hands flew up to her face and the soulless pits where her eyes should be glanced around at all the work Rich had done.