Don't Trust Her

by Elizabeth Boles

  “I’ll go, too.” Blanche offers a half smile. “We’ll help you.”

  This makes Faith beam. “Y’all promise?”

  “I do,” I say.

  “Me too,” Blanche adds.

  “And until then, we won’t discuss this anymore,” I say. “What’s done is done. Is everyone in agreement?”

  They nod.

  One story down. Two to go. I have the feeling that Faith’s will be the easiest of the group. Next is Blanche’s turn.

  “Do you want to say what happened to you?” I ask.

  “Not really.” Blanche twirls the cigarette in her fingers. “Just for shits and giggles, I’ll talk. But after a smoke break.”

  She rises to go out onto the back deck. “We’ll be here, waiting,” I tell her.

  When she disappears out the door, Faith clears her throat. She wants something. I ignore her. There is a raw patch in my gut from her betrayal. It’s a small thing and it will heal, but it needs time.

  “Court. There’s something we need to talk about.”

  Too bad I can’t get out of this by ignoring her. “What’s that?”

  She shoots a quick glance to the back door. “It’s about Paige. I don’t think she killed herself.”

  Chapter 27

  Just like that, the weepy Faith is gone and the bloodhound has surfaced. Oh, it was always writhing underneath, waiting to reveal itself. It was naive of me to think that it would go away for a while, maybe drown in the quagmire of Faith’s kleptomania.

  Wishful thinking.

  This is all about that damn fourth card.

  She watches me closely, waiting for an answer, waiting for me to give her the go-ahead and say whatever it is that she needs to purge from the depths of her psyche.

  My gaze darts to the upstairs gangway. Is it not enough that we awoke to find Paige dead and discovered she is Charlotte? Why does there need to be more to this story?

  But as I’ve said, Faith is a relentless hunter. When she is on the scent, it can be all-consuming.

  Yet, do I entertain this? Do I hear her out or shut her down?

  And damn it, why is she saying anything to begin with? Paige ate too many pills. It is cut-and-dried. There is nothing more to make of the situation.

  But if I don’t ask her, she’ll tell me anyway. I can tell by the stupid throat-clearing thing she keeps doing.

  Lightly I say, “Why do you say that?”

  She licks her lips and leans across the table. “I remember something she told me once. About a cousin of hers. He committed suicide—with pills. Since then, Paige never took sleeping pills or any narcotics if she could help it.”

  “I guess she changed her mind.”

  “No,” Faith says. “I don’t think so. Paige had firm beliefs.”

  I sigh with disappointment. “Faith, all I know is what I saw, and what I saw was a bottle of pills—an empty bottle of Xanax. She took those tablets—the whole bottle. Maybe Paige originally thought that she could face us. Maybe she changed her mind.”

  Faith grunts in disbelief.

  I push on. “She drank a lot last night. You know as well as I do that alcohol and sleeping pills don’t mix.”

  “She meant to see us today,” Faith murmurs. “She said so in the letter.”

  I shrug. I can beat a dead dog all day, but that isn’t going to change the fact that it’s dead and it’s a dog.

  “I don’t buy it,” she adds for good measure, giving me a purposeful stare that’s supposed to get me to ask her more details, because Faith is so smart at puzzling things together.

  I glance toward the back door, wondering if we have time for dirty details. Through the glass, Blanche sways back and forth, taking luxurious drags of her cigarette—even while ice falls around her.

  “Court.”

  “Okay. What do you propose happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Faith. You’re thinking something. Don’t make me beg.”

  She shrugs. “It just seems strange to me, that’s all. First, we were brought here by our blackmailer for her birthday. Then last night, Paige and Blanche have an altercation—”

  I lift my palm for her to stop. “It was not an altercation.”

  “Well, whatever it was, it was tense on Blanche’s part. The next thing we know, Paige is dead.”

  “By her own hand.”

  Faith’s head twitches to the door. She’s running out of time and knows it. “I don’t think so. Listen, you want to see the good in people. I know you do. You’re a lot like your sister in that. But I’m telling you right here and now that there’s something below bar going on.”

  My stomach pretzels. She wants me to say that Paige’s death wasn’t an accident. If this idea isn’t chopped off at the knees before it’s given a chance to take hold, Faith will dial in on it. The idea will fester in her mind until it’s all she’s thinking about.

  “The fourth card,” she insinuates.

  “Forget about it,” I snap.

  Her face crumples. “I know what I saw.”

  I go over to her and sit at her table. Her hand strokes the stem of her wineglass, and I take it.

  “You’re cold.”

  I rub warmth into her flesh and smile gently. She melts a little.

  Good. “We’ve been through so much today, Faith. Can’t we let this rest? I understand what you’re saying, I really do. But right now we have to focus on getting out of here and letting Derek know about Paige.”

  She nods absently. I can’t tell if she’s listening or if she’s more fascinated with her own inner voice that’s twisting history.

  “What do you think?”

  She shrugs. “If it makes things easier…”

  “Yes,” I say hopefully.

  “Then I’ll forget about it.”

  Good girl. “There’s so much else to deal with, and usually the simplest explanation is the best.”

  She grimaces.

  “I know you don’t want to hear that our…friend committed suicide. Whether it was accidental or not, she died with those pills beside her.”

  Faith shivers. “You know me, I’m just thinking too much, is all. I guess I want something to take my mind off what happened.”

  “We all do. None of us want to be here.” I nibble my lip. “Maybe we should try our phones again.”

  “Yes.” Faith beams a little too innocently. “That’s a good idea.”

  She leaves the table to check her phone, and I slide mine from my pocket. Still no signal.

  The back door opens, and Blanche enters, stomping ice from her shoes. “God, it’s colder than a witch’s tit out there.” She must see the worry on my face and adds, “Sorry. I’m having a problem being sensitive.”

  “It’s okay. Still no phone signal.”

  “Weird,” Blanche says. “Maybe it’ll be on later, once the storm ends.”

  I restart my phone. It seems to take forever for the black screen to flare to life. When it does, the words NO SERVICE sit like a beacon in the top corner.

  Blanche crosses back to her couch, dragging the acrid scent of cigarettes behind her. I return to my previous spot as Faith enters the living room, fluffing her curls, a smile on her face as if what’s happening is not actually happening.

  “Blanche, are you ready to begin?” Faith asks before sipping more wine.

  “Sure.” All the energy is gone from Blanche’s voice. “I’ll be happy to. But I’ll tell y’all right now that I’m not going to say I’m sorry for what I’ve done. Because I had permission.”

  Faith’s gaze scours over Blanche. “Permission?”

  “Uh-huh.” Blanche drains the last of her wine. “Paige gave it to me.”

  Chapter 28

  Blanche drags herself over to the kitchen, grabs the bottle of wine, and pours herself another fishbowl full. She stands in the doorjamb swirling her drink, staring out the window.

  After a moment she drifts back to the couch, taking the bottle and glass with
her.

  “Six months ago, Jeremy and I were over.” Blanche waits, letting her words sink in. “We were barely speaking, and we sure as hell weren’t touching each other. It got so bad that he moved out.”

  She pauses and takes a big gulp of wine. Her fingers graze the couch’s arm, sweeping back and forth hypnotically. “You know when people say that they just drifted apart? That’s what happened. We drifted apart like two fucking boats at sea. When you first get married, it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. That it’s impossible for the two of you to have distance between you.” Her gaze cuts to me, and her eyes mist. “Do you remember what that felt like? The closeness of new marriage?”

  “I do.”

  “You think it’ll never change, but slowly things start to fade and you start taking things for granted. Then the bright colors of your life turn gray. And then one day you wake up and wonder what happened? Who is this person lying beside me?

  “I didn’t know who we were anymore. We couldn’t agree on anything. We were at each other’s throats, unable to come to a consensus on the simplest shit—where to vacation, what type of toothpaste to buy. It was that bad.”

  She curls her hand to a fist and closes her eyes. “I never wanted to be like that. I had grown up with parents who drank and fought. I didn’t want to fight with Jeremy. I wanted to work things out. But it felt like the more I pushed, the more he pushed back.”

  She takes a break and sips her wine. Pain wafts off her in waves. My chest constricts, and I feel her agony like a throb deep in my heart.

  She starts up again. “I had tried everything—counseling, writing down all the nice things I knew about him, telling him how much I loved him. I bent over backward, and he tried, too. But there was just nothing there. Our marriage had become a black hole. It sucked our energy and never gave anything back.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.

  Her gaze lands on mine. “Because you had enough on your plate with your mom. Faith”—her head whips toward the table—“I didn’t tell you because, well, I thought you had issues with money. Forcing either of you to listen to my woes wouldn’t have been fair.”

  “So you went to Paige,” I whisper.

  “Bingo.”

  Blanche refills her glass. Wine glugs as it rises in the massive bowl. She tosses the empty bottle in the nearby trash and curls up on the couch.

  “I didn’t know where else to go.” Desperation soaks her voice just before it breaks. “Do you know what that’s like? Not knowing who to tell about this awful secret you have? Because there is a lot of shame in admitting that your marriage isn’t working. Maybe not as much as you have, Faith, but there is some.”

  Faith’s gaze cuts to her hands.

  “One day I broke down and told Paige everything. Every last detail. She offered a solution.” Warning flares in Blanche’s eyes. “I am going to remind y’all that I will not apologize for what I’ve done. There is no going back, and even if there was, I’d probably do it all over again.”

  “Hold that thought.” Faith enters the kitchen and returns with a box of granola bars. “Anybody want one?”

  When did I eat? I haven’t. “I do.”

  I catch the bar she launches at me, and rip open the silvery wrapper.

  “I’ll pass,” Blanche answers.

  Faith’s crunching fills the room. She eats one bar in two bites. “I’m so hungry. Maybe I’ll just have one more.”

  “Paige listened to me,” Blanche continues, “and I didn’t expect much. Maybe she’d tell me to go back to counseling. Maybe she’d just be a shoulder to cry on. I didn’t want my marriage to end. Why would I have worked so hard at something for years just to watch it disappear? You know?”

  “What did she say?” Faith asks between bites.

  Blanche smiles bitterly. “She told me that Jeremy was most likely cheating on me.”

  My chest shrivels. “Oh, Blanche.”

  “It’s okay,” she says. “I was and am a big girl. I can handle the truth. So he was fucking around? That was another reason why I didn’t tell either of y’all. Would you have said something like that to me, Court—what Paige told me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Faith?” Blanche asks, waxed eyebrows arched.

  Faith picks at the base of her wineglass. “I wouldn’t think that Jeremy would cheat. You love each other.”

  “Even people who love each other cheat.” Blanche lifts her arms to the heavens. “But I proved my point. Neither of y’all would have said that, and that’s what I needed to hear—that my husband had one foot out the door. The question was—how to get both feet back in?

  “So that’s what I said to Paige. What do I do? She said— and I’ll never forget because it’s what changed my life.” Blanche stares off, and her eyes become glassy. “She said, Derek and I went through the same thing, but we worked through it. So of course I asked, how?

  “That was what she wanted. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, you know? She wanted me to ask. She wanted me desperate and I was. Y’all, I would have eaten dirt to get Jeremy back. My ego was on the line, right? I wanted us to be the way that we were, to come back together. I didn’t want to end up divorced. He was the love of my life, and in my opinion, that was that. Surely he wanted to save us, too.”

  There is a long pause as Blanche swirls her finger in her wine. She brings it to her mouth and sucks the liquid. It’s a strange, almost seductive move. I shudder.

  “I was ready to hear it—whatever Paige had to say, I was ready to try it. And then she told me—she and Derek, when things got bad, they found another couple and swapped partners.”

  My chest shrinks, squeezing my lungs of air. I stared at Blanche. Surely, I hadn’t heard her correctly. Surely, she hadn’t said what I thought?

  “Swingers?” Faith coughs up a mouthful of wine. She sputters and gasps before her chest settles. “Y’all were swingers?”

  Blanche nods slightly. “It’s an open marriage, basically, but with only one set of folks. That’s what Paige had done.”

  “Paige?” Faith’s voice drips with doubt. “Our Paige?”

  “Yes, our Paige who blackmailed us, fucked men other than her husband. Yes, that Paige.”

  Faith clams up. She shoots me a look that begs for sympathy. I offer a wobbly smile because the truth is, I’m fitting it all together, too.

  My thumb scrubs at the label on my water bottle. My gaze slinks to the plastic because it’s easier to look at it than into Blanche’s scrutinizing eyes. She’s prepared for us to judge her.

  “So I signed up with Paige and Derek. I told Jeremy that we had one shot left to make our marriage work. I even went so far as to threaten him.” She glances at the ceiling, her gaze asking why? “I said, you better get rid of that hussy you’re screwing or else I’m going to file for divorce and take everything you’ve got. So he agreed. Then, Derek signed on and so did Paige.”

  There is a long pause, and Faith posts the question that I wonder. “How did you do it?”

  Blanche smiles tightly. “We met and had dinner. There was lots of alcohol involved—at least for me. We got cozy, loose, then split off. The kids had gone to their grandparents that night, so the house was empty. I took Derek back to our place while Paige kept Jeremy with her.” Blanche laughs spitefully. “That’s how it started.”

  I reach for Blanche. “You don’t have to tell us anymore. If it’s too painful, we understand.”

  She blinks at me in surprise. “No, I want to tell it all. I want to unburden myself. I want this monkey off my back. For too long I’ve carried it. Paige wanted y’all to know my secret, so here it is. We’d meet once a month and pair off. Everyone was happy. Jeremy got his little pussy on the side, and I saved my marriage—or so I thought.

  “Turns out that Paige and Jeremy were seeing each other on the sly. They were having a little affair.” Before Faith can argue, Blanche says, “Your precious friend stabbed me in the back. She fucked my husband witho
ut my knowledge. But eventually Derek and I found out. When they told us, Derek hit the roof.

  “Oh, Jeremy was all sorry. Of course he was.” She affects a mocking tone. “Neither one of them expected it to happen. It was so unintentional, and they couldn’t believe it. It was never planned, and they were so sorry.” Her voice hardens. “And all that shit.”

  Blanche’s chin collapses to her chest. She inhales deeply, and her head snaps up. Eyes glittering, she says, “So you see why I was angry at Paige. She talked me into screwing her husband and then stole mine.”

  “Maybe it was an accident, like she said,” Faith offers weakly.

  “Bullshit. That’s total bullshit. Now that I know she was the one who blackmailed me, I’m sure it was intentional. Hell, she went so far in the letter as to tell me that she would put photos of my infidelity all over town, exposing me for the slut that I was. I didn’t know if she had blackmailed me or if Jeremy had. Or hell, someone else. I just paid the money and wanted the whole thing gone.”

  My heart breaks for her. “I understand paying. But what about Derek? What did he do when they told you about the affair?”

  “He punched Jeremy in the nose. Then he stomped out and left.”

  “Oh,” I say sympathetically.

  “But that’s not all,” Blanche explains, triumphant if bitter.

  “What’s not all?” Faith asks.

  She lifts her glass and points at both of us. “The reason Paige and Derek weren’t spending her birthday together is because once he discovered her betrayal, he sent her papers.”

  Paige never mentioned this. “What?”

  Victory is smeared all over Blanche’s face. “Derek filed for divorce. He was cutting Paige off.”

  Chapter 29

  I have no words. It’s like being knife-punched in the throat. My esophagus tightens. Was the money I paid just an add-on? Presumably Paige had been gathering information and dirt on us for months—which already makes me want to vomit. But then she winds up actually needing the money because her husband was pissed at her?

  Way to go, Paige. You fucked up your life and ours. Congratulations.