It was at basement comedy night. Gary, our close friend, frequented the stage there because as long as we could remember, he was always coming up with new twisted tales he could spin into a comedy routine. He was hilarious and gifted, yet content to stick it out at the local basement comedy club. One afternoon during a barbecue in our backyard, Gary and Shawn drunkenly joked about Shawn taking to the stage, my boyfriend pretending he could do it better than the professional and that he was loaded with ‘arsenal’ he could use. When Gary laughed and said Shawn could succeed in putting the ass in arsenal, the deal had been sealed with a handshake. Shawn would have a week to prepare his routine.
During the lead-up, I teased Shawn that deals made under the influence of alcohol, don’t stand up in court and that he could back out of it to save the humiliation. I loved my boyfriend, and he was many fine things and could have me laughing at his jokes, but he wasn’t a comedian who could pull off a routine in front of a hundred-deep expectant audience. But he maintained his position. A dare is a dare, Blythe, and I’m a man of my word.
When Friday night arrived, I saw the first tell-tale signs that he was indeed nervous. We pushed our way through the crowd who were already a few drinks down and positioned ourselves at a reserved table right in front of the stage. The same table we sat at every second Friday. Comedy night was our thing, so were our monthly games night where our teamwork skills always irritated even our closest friends.
We watched Gary put the whole room in stitches, and I watched as Shawn’s knee nervously bounced at a dangerous speed. Placing my hand over his, I gave a reassuring squeeze and he mouthed the words ‘I love you.’ He was about to do something stupidly brave, and I couldn’t have loved him more for it.
“And now I have a special guest with me tonight. You’ll have to go easy on him as it’s his first night on stage… ever.” The crowd cheered, and I started to sweat with nerves.
Would the crowd be forgiving of Shawn’s first time? Or would they throw rotten tomatoes if he epically failed?
“And we all know how we like to welcome our newbies,” Gary continued with an evil grin as everyone started stomping their feet on the wooden floor, sending the room into uproar. I looked to Shawn who seemed torn between commitment and the desire to run. Nobody knew who he was yet, there was still a chance to make a clean exit. “Make sure to save the heckling for at least the second bad joke. So, let’s welcome my very best friend… Shawn Cooper to the staaagggeee.”
The crowd cheered once more, and after taking a deep breath, Shawn rose to his feet and climbed the five steps up to Gary, squinting against the spotlight shining in his face. They shook hands and Gary jumped from the stage and sat where Shawn had been moments before.
“What have you done, Gary,” I teased.
He winked and said, “Have a little faith in your man, Blythe.”
We both turned to the silent man on stage, and as he cleared his throat too close to the microphone, it sent a loud, sharp twang through the speakers. The room fell silent, and the only thing I could hear was the beating of my heart in my ears.
“I’m not a comedian,” Shawn started, and a few nervous giggles could be heard behind me. “I’m not even going to be giving you a comedy routine tonight.” Giggles turned to murmurs, and I looked to Gary who stared straight ahead, wearing a proud smile. “My girlfriend, Blythe… well, she warned me not to get up on stage and make a fool out of myself with my lame attempts at making you laugh, because the only person who ever laughs at my dad jokes, is sitting right here in front of me.” Shawn met my gaze and I smiled up at him. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and she seems to think the sun shines out of ass, which is more than what my own mother thinks.” I laughed because it was true. His mother was a tough nut to crack. “We’ve been coming to Old Joe’s since the first week we started dating, so I thought of no better place to do this than here.”
The audience caught on to something and it was a mix of encouraging cheers and whistles.
“What the hell is he doing?” I murmured to myself.
Shawn met my gaze once more, and this time he held it while he jumped from the stage the way Gary did moments earlier. The spotlight followed until it illuminated us both. Shawn fell to one knee the same time as my heart lodged in my throat. Taking my hand in his, he held the microphone and a gleaming ring in the other.
“Blythe Blakely,” he said, eyes brimming with love. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming the only person who will ever laugh at my jokes, and be my wife?”
I laughed through tears, nodding as he slid the most exquisite ring on my finger.
“She said yes!” he said, sending the audience into raucous applause. Placing the mic on the table next to us, he pulled me toward him until his soft lips met mine, and we sealed our own deal. He moved his kisses over my cheek and to my ear when he whispered, “Just you and me, babe. Nothing will ever break us.”
8
“I
’m sorry, Mrs. Cooper…” Wendy, the bank manager looks nervously between me and the computer screen, “but the joint bank account has insufficient funds for me to transfer money to a new account.”
I smile although my palms grow sweaty at the unexpected news. “That can’t be right. I checked two days ago and there was still money in there. Shawn and I never withdraw from that account.”
Wendy purses her lips together, a sign she has more bad news. “Well, it appears as though he has.”
The wind is knocked clean out of me.
That asshole.
I was only planning on taking half, playing by the rules of separation etiquette. But it seems the man I love hasn’t only turned cold on our relationship, he’s decided to freeze me out of our financial assets, too.
I lean forward on my elbows, my heart racing. “Well… how much did he take?”
Wendy swallows hard, no doubt wishing she’d taken a few extra seconds with her last customer so some other staff member could deal with me. “All of it. Your husband took all of it.”
“All of it? As in every single cent?”
That fucking asshole!
She nods and a few clicks later she adds, “He emptied it yesterday, and by the looks of it, he came into the bank and withdrew it in cash.”
I feel a surge of rage and not just for my cheating husband but because of the bank’s incompetence. “He withdrew over eighty thousand dollars in cash and no one thought to alert me, the co-signer to the account, that he was doing so?”
“Mrs. Cooper, I’m sorry. Contact should have been made, and in all honesty, I’m not sure why it wasn’t.”
“Is there a way of getting it back?” It’s a stupid question, I know it as soon as I say it, but I’m clutching at straws.
“Since he withdrew it in cash, there’s no way of tracing where or if it’s been spent. Once again, I’m very sorry.”
I feel the need to be sick, and not because I need the money. Along with our joint account, we have our personal accounts, but Shawn has no right to take what isn’t his. His half, yes. But by doing this, he’s proving playing fair is no longer in his nature.
How could a man, who once loved me, now think so little of me?
Hooking my handbag over my arm, I hurry from the bank, my heels clicking loudly atop the marble floor. Once outside, I scan the street, at a loss on what to do next. I need a lawyer, that much is evident. But what I really want is a stiff drink. I weave through the busy lunchtime crowd until I see Amero’s hotel bar, an elegant and often quiet place to have a drink away from any rowdy patrons.
“Blythe,” Caleb the barman greets with a smile. He stops polishing the crystal glasses and focuses solely on me. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”
I sit on a barstool and place my handbag next to me. I know I look rattled and Caleb must see it, too, because his eyes narrow slightly. “I know. You know how it is… life gets in the way.”
He gives me a small smile while starting to make my martini,
one of the many he’s made for me over the years. “I do know. So, how’s Shawn?”
A fucking dead man.
“He’s fine. Much the same. Busy, busy, busy.”
Busy being a lying bastard.
Caleb seems unconvinced, but sensing I’m not going to elaborate, he busies himself making my martini. Pulling my cell free, I find Shawn’s number, my thumb hovering over the call button. I need to know why he’s playing these games. We hear of these types of malicious stories happening to other married couples, but never once did I think Shawn would be capable of such a thing. Caleb slides the martini over and moves to serve another patron. I take a large gulp, keen for some liquid courage and press call. I listen to the ring tone, twisting the olive stick between my fingers.
“You’ve reached Shawn Cooper. Leave a message.”
I’m half-tempted to leave a string of vile curses but know it won’t work in my favor. I end the call and try again. By the third time of not answering, I concede he never will.
Instead, I dial his work number and wait.
“Welcome to Usher and Gainsburg, this is Courtney, how may I help you?”
Hmm… what happened to Becky?
“Hi Courtney,” I start. “I’m needing to speak with Shawn Cooper as a matter of urgency, please.”
“Shawn Cooper?”
“Correct.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no Shawn Cooper working at Usher and Gainsburg.”
“Perhaps because you’re new you haven’t heard of him, yet. He’s in the acquisitions division.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ve been working here going on a year, and I can promise you, there is no Shawn Cooper.”
I sigh in frustration. “Okay, Courtney, can you please put me through to Darryl Kinsworth, same department.”
“That I can do. Have a great day.”
She puts me on hold, and I wonder how she can know of Darryl but not Shawn.
“Hello, Darryl speaking.”
“Darryl, it’s Blythe Cooper, Shawn’s wife.”
There’s a pause before he responds, “Oh, hey, Blythe. It’s been a while.”
“Last Christmas party, in fact.”
At that last Christmas party, I caught you with your pants around your ankles banging Linda from accounting in your boss’s office.
“Look, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I asked to be put through to Shawn, and your new receptionist doesn’t seem to know who he is.”
“I, um… I’m not understanding, Blythe. Why would you call here to speak with Shawn?” Gotta give it to him, his acting skills are top-notch. But my patience is already wearing thin without Darryl’s inquisition.
“Because he’s not answering his cell. Look, I don’t know what he’s told you about us, but I really need to speak with him.”
“And I understand that, but Shawn doesn’t work here anymore.”
“Darryl, this isn’t the time for jokes—”
“Blythe, I can tell you with a hundred percent certainty that Shawn doesn’t work here anymore and hasn’t for almost a year.”
“For almost a year?” I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched for the second time today. “What the hell do you mean he hasn’t worked there in almost a year?”
Darryl appears genuinely perplexed by my reaction. “Well, he never returned to work after we closed for Christmas.”
“Well, did… did he say why?”
“I thought perhaps you could answer that. There was no resignation submitted or anything. He just… never showed up.”
The room begins to spin around me, and I clutch the bar for support.
What the hell is happening?
What the hell has my husband been up to for the past year?
It seems everything in his life has become one giant lie—not just his marriage.
“Blythe?” Darryl checks to see if I’m still on the line. “I really don’t know what to make of this. Obviously, he didn’t feel comfortable in telling you.”
“Obviously,” I concur. “Th-thanks,” I stammer, ending the call.
“Everything okay?” Caleb asks, concerned. “You’ve gone ghostly pale.”
“Just fine,” I lie, downing my martini in one go. “See you next time.” I throw a twenty on the counter and exit onto the busy city street. I need my sister. I need to talk to someone who can offer an outsider’s perspective, because right now, I’m too riled up to think clearly. Dialing Samantha’s number, I wait, until once again, I hear her voicemail.
“What is with everyone lately,” I exclaim, drawing cautious glances from those walking by.
I dial once more and when it goes to voicemail, I leave a message. “Sam, please call me. I don’t know where you’ve disappeared to, but I need a voice of reason, and believe it or not, you’re it. Hope you’re okay.”
Ending the call, I ring through to Amanda at the office.
“Boss,” she answers almost immediately. At least someone isn’t screening my calls. “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to find me the best, most ruthless divorce lawyer New York has to offer.”
9
“W here are you heading off to looking all fancy and shit?” Amanda leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and wearing a Cheshire cat grin while admiring my off-the-shoulder classic black dress.
“I’m having dinner with Kane Alexander,” I reply, transferring some items from my handbag to my suede clutch.
“As in a dinner date?”
I laugh. “No, certainly not a dinner date. We will be discussing business. I’m sure he’s keen to talk me into taking on his mysterious project.”
“I’m sure that’s not all he’s keen on taking on.”
I snap closed my clutch and eyeroll toward her. “It’s definitely not like that, so get your mind out of the gutter. I’m hoping I can stir his pot a bit to get more answers from him.”
Amanda frowns, eyes radiating suspicion and humor. “Is stirring the pot code for something sexual?”
“If it is, I don’t wanna know what it means.”
We leave my office, and she takes a seat behind her desk.
“Should I call you with a faux emergency at say… seven?”
“I think I’ve got this. He’s harmless enough.” I make to leave but stop at the door. “Oh, and… can we swap cars tomorrow night? I’m on somewhat of a sleuthing mission.”
“Girl… you’ve got all the excitement going on. But, are you really trusting me with the Audi?”
“I am, but don’t ride people’s asses like you normally do. I want it back without a blemish.”
“And I want to hear all about tonight, no details spared.”
I wave goodbye and stop once more, the thought springing to mind. With all that’s happening with Shawn, I’d forgotten about Kane’s comment.
“One more thing. Do you know the original Red Riding Hood story?”
~
“Welcome, Ms. Blakely,” the middle-age balding maître d' smiles, opening the door so I can step inside. I’m momentarily shocked that he greets me by my maiden name since there’s no reason he should know it. I haven’t even used it for seven years. “May I take your coat?”
“Please,” I say turning my back to him and shrugging out of the coat. He disappears into the cloakroom, and I admire the restaurant foyer. It’s all beautiful parquetry floors, Victorian walls and brilliant chandeliers. If Kane is trying to impress, he’s already starting strong.
The maître d' re-emerges. “Mr. Alexander is waiting for you. Please follow me.”
I do so and bypass the few tables occupied with diners who look like they’ve all flown in on private jets.
“Stay calm,” I murmur, feeling nerves dancing around my stomach.
I’m led across the room to the one booth separate from the other diners, our own intimately lit chandelier hanging above.
“Enjoy, Ms. Blakely,” the maître d' says before departing.
Kane stands, holds out his hand, an
d guides me up the two steps. He pulls me close, kissing my cheek. I feel a rush of something I suddenly want more of, and when his lips brush my ear, the feeling intensifies.
“You look ravishing, Ms. Blakely,” he rumbles, and I smile knowing that, of course, he’s behind the maiden name antic. Kane pulls away and gestures for me to sit. I do so while he takes his place opposite me, immediately pouring me a glass of champagne.
“Very clever,” I say, unable to hide my smile.
He looks up through his lashes, his own smile ever so slightly tilting his lips. “Cooper just doesn’t… suit you.”
“Is that so? Well, I am still married, you know.”
He points to my hand, doubt marring his strong features. “Did you forget to wear your rings on purpose?”
I splay my fingers on the table and look at my naked ring finger. “No, it was intentional. But don’t get ahead of yourself,” I tease. “It has nothing to do with meeting you tonight.”
“Yet.”
Damn him and his smoldering good looks.
My words catch knowing it’s time to switch the focus away from me.
“You chose extremely well tonight,” I say, my gaze moving across the room, taking in all the finery.
“I’m happy you appreciate it. I know you’re a woman of good taste.”
His last four words are a subtle innuendo which have my thighs clenching. I shift in my chair, suddenly uncomfortable with the sexual frustration thrown upon me. I haven’t had sex in over a year, and I worry it’s starting to show. He studies my every movement, drinking me in.
Every. Last. Drop.
I hope to hell this man isn’t a mind reader because if he is, not even Jesus will throw his hand up to help.
Once again, I’m faced with having to change the subject, but Kane beats me to it. He holds his glass high, and I do the same.
“To you, Blythe. To our new business relationship and anything else that follows.”
We clink and hold each other’s gaze while we sip the champagne.
“Thank you, but I haven’t said yes, yet.”
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