I’d never seen Laura in such a rage, and the way she was shouting obscenities you would have thought she had Tourette’s syndrome.
I held tight to the dashboard, as she took a sharp turn onto I-95. “Laura, slow down!”
I felt bad that I had left Gavin in that predicament. However, he was busy helping David, and I thought he’d agree that Laura needed me more than he did.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” she screamed, while pounding her fist on the steering wheel.
“Laura, this is not worth risking your life for, and I certainly don’t want to die. Please, slow down.”
The powerful engine of the 911 Carrera whined loudly as Laura threw it into fourth gear. It might have seemed as if we were traveling at the speed of light because the convertible top was down on the car, but I swore that if the car were equipped with a set of wings, we’d have been airborne.
“I can’t slow down.”
I pulled my hair to the side and held it to keep it from whipping at my face. “You can’t slow down because the car has suddenly become Christine-like and it’s causing you to drive us into a crash and burn on I-95?”
“No, because if I slow down, I’d be able to turn the car around and drive back to the club. And if I get this car anywhere near David he’ll end up with tire tracks across his face.”
“Okay, point well taken. However, unless you have crash helmets stored under the seats, and a pop up roll bar on the car, I don’t think it’s a good idea to drive fast enough to break the sound barrier.”
She managed to slow down to eighty miles an hour. I eased up on chewing my fingernails, which I’d managed to trim down to the bloodline.
“What a freak. I hate him,” Laura hissed vehemently. “What’d he do, find her at the circus? My God, the crystal ball waxer, the-eye-of-the-newt-and-toe-of-a-frog woman was right! He was dishonest. I had a gut feeling that something wasn't right, but I would never have guessed he was married.”
Laura’s voice cracked as she choked back tears.
“I thought he was the best thing that ever happened to me. I thought our relationship was great. We really enjoyed each other, and overlooking the fact that he’s a lousy dresser wasn’t easy. I tried not to dwell on his idiosyncrasies, like leaving his toenail chippings lying on my bathroom floor as if they were going to biodegrade themselves into the ceramic tile. I even accepted him wearing pantyhose.”
“David wears pantyhose?” I was stunned. I’d never once thought of him as being light on his toes. Also, I was confused as to why a gay man was dating a straight woman--as well as being married.
“He wears them under his wool dress pants because the wool makes his legs itch. What did I ever see in him?” Laura cried out angrily. The emotion of anger must have somehow been hotwired from her brain directly into the gas pedal, because I almost got whiplash as the car accelerated.
“I’m sorry David turned out to be such a jerk.” I tried to be as consoling as possible while hyperventilating, as the taillights of the vehicle in front of us were one--maybe two inches from our front bumper.
Laura laid on the horn and radically swerved, my body flung to the right, as we passed the old man in the car she’d almost ran over.
“Laura, I don’t want to preach to you at a time like this, but I have a child whose wedding I would one day like to attend. Let’s go to my house where we can talk or just take the next exit and pull the car off to the side of the road. I’m able to think better with my feet planted firmly on the ground, as opposed to sitting in a car that’s going so fast I can hear the wind whistle through my ears.”
Laura acquiesced and slowed down to the speed limit. She drove silently for miles as if she were in shock and unable to utter a single word. I however, rattled on about the tortuous devices I’d like to use on David for putting her through such heartache.
She finally decided to exit off 1-95 onto an eerily quiet country road. It was pitch black, there was cow-pie stench in the air, and neither of us knew exactly where we were.
“What you and Matt had together was perfect. Something I’ve never achieved,” Laura said quietly, as she pulled the car off to the shoulder of the road. The sound of gravel crunched under the tires as she brought the car to a stop.
“Why do I get my heart broken so many times?” she asked.
“Laura, I feel so bad for what David did to you.”
It was at that moment that I’d thought back to the day I’d walked into Laura’s office and she was on the speakerphone with David. And in my head, I heard David say, “I can do this. I can keep it together so Laura will never find out.” I’d been so preoccupied with my own life that I had failed to put the pieces together. Especially since Laura had expressed her worries at least twice to me. She loathed cheating husbands.
“Well, Matt did have a stupid accident and died, leaving me alone.”
“But the positive aspect of dying is that Matt never intentionally hurt you, unlike Robert who degraded me by sleeping with bimbos. Women who felt a well-accessorized outfit should include whips and black leather masks. Then there were the Bambi Bimbos, some of them so young, you’d think they’d have to be home before the streetlights came on. Now David…a married man!”
As Laura sobbed, I was at a loss for words. “I’m really sorry. You obviously mesmerized the man to the point of giving him complete amnesia, not remembering he was married.”
Laura let out a faint whimper of a laugh between sobs, as she pulled a tissue from her purse and honked into it. “What makes men think they have the right to cheat on their wives?” she asked while wiping away tears with the back of her hand.
“Let’s just say, some men cheat for the same reason dogs fornicate in public--because they can. Simple as that, they don’t need a reason.”
“Oh God, I’m a kept woman. People will label me a mistress.” Laura moaned and rested her head on the steering wheel.
I had tried to run my fingers through my hair, but they got stuck. I pulled down on the visor and looked in the lighted mirror to see that the wind had spun my hair into the shape of a tornado. A look similar to the Cone Heads from the old Saturday Night Live shows.
Out of nowhere, bright flashing blue strobe lights had appeared behind us. The glare in the visor mirror practically blinded me. “Laura, get up,” I said, while anxiously nudging her.
She pulled her head up off the steering wheel and squinted as she gazed into the rearview mirror. “What is that?”
“Well, we’re either going to be beamed up into some alien spacecraft or that’s the cops behind us.”
Like clockwork, we’d both turned to look behind us. A blur of headlights from three cruisers pointed in our direction.
“Driver, step out of the car with your hands in the air!” demanded the loud bellowing voice.
“We’re being arrested! I warned you not to speed.”
“They don’t arrest people for speeding.”
“They do for eluding,” I said. “Traveling at supersonic speed, who knows how long they’ve been chasing us.” The cramped confine of the front seat had finally taken a toll on my leg, causing a Charlie horse to shoot up the back of my calf. I quickly reached down to rub the back of my leg.
A thunderous voice commanded, “Passenger, do not--I repeat do not attempt to go for a weapon! Sit up straight with your hands in the air where I can see them.”
I quickly righted my body and lifted my hands in the air. My fingers trembled; my leg ached.
“Ugh! I can’t wait to talk to the brainless commando in charge,” Laura said through clenched teeth.
“Driver, step out of the car. Hands in the air!”
With full lips pursed into a tight knot, she reluctantly obeyed and stepped out of the car, while symptoms of Tourette’s returned. As she stood beside the car with her hands raised high, a police officer barked orders at her.
“Now, get down on your knees, lay flat on your stomach, and stretch your arms out to your sides!”
Laura’s
long platinum mane had fanned like a veil, as she spun on her heels and squinted into the glaring beam of headlights. “Are you completely insane? I’m wearing Dolce and Gabbana! Besides, I’m a lawyer, I know my rights, and I demand to know why you are treating me like a criminal!”
While Laura’s words were still resonating along the dark country road, two police officers rushed to handcuff her while she tried to wiggle away.
“Laura, stop or they’ll get you for resisting arrest,” I said, just as I noticed a man holding a small camera on his shoulder, filming the scene. “What the hell!”
At that point, I had jumped out of the car. A big, burly figure had rushed toward me and tried to place the handcuffs on my wrists, while I had hopped in a circle on one foot. Sharp pains stabbed at my calf. The rather large woman officer had warned me not to resist arrest, while I’d tried to explain that I wasn’t running away, but that I had a Charlie horse. She’d finally managed to cuff my wrists.
“Ow! Yeouch! Ooh! Yow!” I whimpered, as she pulled me along to stand next to Laura at the back of David’s car.
“Okay, I want to see some identification from both of you,” barked the gruff officer who just handcuffed Laura.
“That would require I be David Copperfield,” she said tersely, as she stood with hands cuffed behind her back.
One of the officers quickly retrieved our handbags, and pulled our wallets out to identify who we were. That’s when “officer nasty,” badge number 243, began reading us our Miranda rights.
“Wait a minute,” said Laura. “Why are you arresting us?”
“Come on lady, give me a break. You’re in possession of a stolen vehicle.”
“A what! Excuse me but this car belongs to my boyfriend, David Bartholomew. Well, technically he’s no longer my boyfriend, but he was up till thirty-five minutes ago.”
“Nice try lady, but the car is registered to Cynthia Cornwall.”
“Cynthia Cornwall?” Laura repeated. “That name sounds familiar.”
“It should if you live in Providence. Her daddy owns half of everything in town. He’s a huge investment tycoon.”
Laura looked at me incredulously. “I thought she looked familiar. Yeah, I recall seeing her picture in the newspaper for some benefit her father was sponsoring. However, it was only a head shot. Seeing tonight that there’s only three feet of her is what threw me off. Ugh! What a weasel David is. He was picking me up in his wife’s car?”
As we stood on the shoulder of the road, Laura angrily stomped her Pradas into the gravel, when she noticed the man with the camera. “And exactly who is this bozo?” she snapped, while looking him up and down.
All at once, the answer to her question blasted through my head like a Vegas slot machine--lights flashing--bells dinging. I recalled an old TV program where two half-naked prostitutes kicked and screamed, while two officers put them into the backseat of a squad car. I had heard they resumed filming to bring back a new version of the program.
Are they filming us for a new Cops show?
Twenty-four
As I walked the two blocks from the parking ramp to the office, I mentally laid out my personal to-do list. Pick up the “Buns of Steel” video to work on my buns of jiggle. Call the vet to find out how to get cat spray out of sofa cushions. Make an appointment to get Buster’s gonads clipped and buy a bottle of shampoo.
Nicholas had tried to rid Buster of what he’d called “a funny smell” and inadvertently used up a half bottle of shampoo. The cat foamed up each time he walked through the sprinklers.
That morning as I pushed through the doors of my office building, I felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment in myself. While caught up in my own world, it never dawned on me that Laura might have needed to lean on me occasionally. I’d never recognized her fragility until her breakup with David, and as I boarded the elevator for the twelfth floor, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for all I’d had, while Laura was hurting.
Gavin was beyond thoughtful. He’d made a welcome-home-from-summer-camp sign for Nicholas and insisted on going with me to Hope Elementary to pick him up. My heart melted as he and Nicholas bonded over an exchange of camping adventures on the drive home. As I listened, I’d thought about Matt. All the things Gavin had taken time to teach Nicholas over the ten weeks we had dated were things Matt couldn’t wait to teach our son.
It was bittersweet knowing Gavin had filled in to do what Matt never had the chance to do and Nicholas was changing because of it. He seemed surer of himself. Possibly, because I was in a stable relationship and because Gavin had become a father figure in Nicholas’s life. He no longer felt like an outsider with his friends, especially the day Gavin showed up unexpectedly for his first day of school and Nicholas pulled Gavin along to introduce him to his classmates.
Gavin had made life special for Nicholas and me. It had felt as if we were a family. He was the missing link that helped mend the broken fences of our hearts, and brought new meaning to our lives in a very familiar way.
The elevator doors opening to my floor was reminiscent of the awaking of my mind. I’d felt especially saddened by Laura having been betrayed by David. Taking the blame for failing to protect her from playboys like that, I saw Laura pacing around my desk like a tigress at the Roger Williams Park Zoo. I knew I’d never let her down again.
Two weeks had passed since her devastating breakup with David. Although I knew it would take a while to recover, she’d pretended that she had already bounced back from the Jerry Springer-like episode. I believe her pretense, in part, was due to Cynthia Cornwall. Yes, she did have us arrested. However, the woman showed empathy and consideration. After identifying us in a line-up at the police station, Laura had a chance to speak with Cynthia. Laura tearfully told of how she didn’t know David was married and that she detested married men who cheat. Not only had Cynthia dropped the charges against us, she went a step farther and asked Laura if she knew of a good divorce attorney.
Gavin wasn’t at all upset that I had left him with David at the dance club. In fact, he had raced to the police station prepared to post bond for Laura and I. Thank goodness, he didn’t need to bail us out.
As for the person filming our arrest--yes, it was for a new Cops episode--and no, we did not sign the waiver agreeing to show our faces on camera. Besides, we didn’t have to worry about the segment airing since all charges had been dropped.
Laura turned to look at me as I walked through the doorway of my office.
“You are not going to believe this. I swear David does not have one shred of dignity left in him. The pathetic ass actually called last night and begged me to take him back. After I laughed for what seemed like a good five minutes I told him, ‘For God’s sake David, pull yourself up by the half a ball you still have left and get on with your life. Either make a commitment to get back together with your wife or make a commitment to get a divorce, but make a commitment to something!’” Laura said frostily, as she stopped to gaze out the window. The dismal overcast skies mimicked her mood.
“I think he’s under the impression I’m some dumb blonde who’d lie down and wait for his call. Ha! Hell would freeze over first. Men can be so self-righteous. When are they going to realize women are the dominate beings?”
Laura had always spoken in a very assertive manner. As sure as our past president defended his decision on Iraq, Laura had always defended womanhood and equal rights.
“Besides, I already have my eye on the new district attorney. Have you seen him?” she inquired adventurously, as she spun around to face me.
Anyone who didn’t know Laura would have concluded her inner emotional pool had dried up for one man, and uncaringly, she’d immediately tapped into a new reservoir of stimuli. However, that wasn’t true. I had always thought of us as polar opposites, when it came to men. They always ran from me as if I were Typhoid Mary. For Laura, even after she’d kicked them to the curb, even if they were technically not available, they continued to cling to her. That day in my off
ice as I looked at Laura circling my desk, I’d realized we were very much alike. Both of us riddled with insecurities from our past.
She had built-in radar for choosing men whose biggest flaw was they lacked the commitment gene--like her father, a Harvard graduate with the IQ of a genius who had the expectations of an army drill sergeant. Even when Laura was a child, he could never relate to her world of Barbie dolls, or the zealous way she overfed her guinea pigs until they practically exploded. At times, he could be cruel and moody. A symptom of most men born before Hollywood created the movie classic, Old Yeller, which enabled men to discover emotions they never knew they had. Only on rare occasions did Laura spend time with her father, as his commitment was to his work and his mistress, not his family. Hence, Laura’s extreme need for male attention and uncanny knack for choosing men who couldn’t commit.
“So, that was how you left it with David?”
I set my briefcase on the desk. She folded her arms across her chest and studied the floor. Clearly, she was still struggling with sensitive emotions.
“Yep. I just don’t know why I never saw that coming from him, being married, and all. How could he? Sure, eventually--even sooner than later--I would have tired of him and left, but dammit, he practically broke my heart.” She quickly wiped a fat tear from her cheek.
I pulled a tissue from the box on my desk. “Listen,” I said, as I gave her the tissue, while brushing away a platinum tendril of hair that hung in her eyes. “What’s important is that you kept the expensive diamond necklace and matching earrings. You did do that, right?”
She dabbed her eyes and honked into the tissue. “Of course I did.” The corner of her mouth curled up ever so slightly, as she tossed the crumpled tissue into the wastepaper basket.
“It’s incredible,” Laura said, as she looked me in the eye.
“What’s incredible?”
“The endless amount of snot and tears my body has produced over the past two weeks.”
“Yes,” I said. “If only it could fuel automobiles, women around the world would be rich.”
ONCE UPON ANOTHER TIME Page 24