by Kaira Rouda
Will knew he couldn’t let her go. She was his lifeline to fun. As long as he kept his lives separate, Carol would be happy and so would Lauren. He would seem like a good guy to Carol, a swell husband instead of a fuck up. Meanwhile, Lauren was hope and great sex. But she was turning to leave.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her toward him, pulling her into an embrace. He held her firmly, one hand on the small of her back, pressing her into his body. “I love you. I have to be with you.”
Lauren stopped struggling to pull free. She rested her head on his chest, and Will thought he heard her crying. “I can’t do this anymore. You want both of us, just like it is. It’s wrong. It’s crazy.”
The sound of a group jogging drew close to them. Will looked up too late, letting Lauren go as the Crystal Beach High School track team started to run past them, each kid giving them a close look. My God, Will thought stricken, what if one of them knows Marni? He and Lauren stood side by side, frozen, as the last of the kids jogged by. One was a guy who had enough red facial hair to be in his thirties, Will thought, and the other was an overweight girl with black hair. The girl stopped in front of them.
“Mom?”
“Hi, honey,” Lauren answered. Will realized this must be her daughter, Kiley, a reluctant sports participant, Lauren had told him. She was flushed bright red, sweating profusely, and appeared, like her mom, on the verge of collapse. He wished he had a water bottle for the girl, poor thing. She was a little heavy, but she had a cute face aside from an unfortunate nose piercing and big round holes in the lobes of her ears. That had to hurt, he thought.
“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Kiley said, bending to put her hands on her knees while somehow staring straight into Will’s soul, a skill all teenage girls possessed.
“I lost my phone and this man helped me find it,” Lauren said, curling her lips as if something smelled bad while taking a step farther away from Will. She held her phone up in the air as proof of her story.
“You lost your phone on the beach? You hate sand, and there’s no sand on your phone,” Kiley said, standing to full height again, her force towering over both adults, at least Will imagined so when in fact she was shorter than he was. His palms were sweating.
“Well, glad it all worked out, Ma’am,” Will said to Lauren, anxious to grab his bicycle and head home. Lauren shot him a look that froze him to the sand.
“Kiley Potts, let’s get going,” a man called through a bullhorn from a car on PCH.
“Do you see how humiliating this is, Mother?”
“You’re right, Kiley. I’ll let you quit,” Lauren said.
“Really?”
“Go tell the coach and I’ll drive you home!” Lauren said. Her voice had taken on a cheerleader quality Will enjoyed hearing. He always appreciated her enthusiasm. Carol was never that excited about anything.
Kiley took one more look at Will through squinted eyes, and then turned and ran toward the road and car with the bullhorn and the coach.
“Well, that was close,” Will said, brushing imagined sand from his palms. “She’s a cutie.”
“Are you kidding me?” Lauren said, shaking her head back and forth.
“No, I mean she is a little overweight. Track would be good for her actually,” Will said, wanting desperately to get on his bicycle and pedal away. Lauren was staring at him, mouth open.
“You are such an idiot. We are so busted. You realize Kiley is in Marni’s class at the high school. They’re not friends, but they know each other. You realize that, don’t you?”
“So? She doesn’t know who I am, silly. I’m just a Good Samaritan who found your phone. That was brilliant,” Will said, feeling a pinch of worry but mostly pride in how quickly Lauren thought on her feet. She really was an incredible woman, even if she was overreacting at the moment.
“She’s not stupid, Will. Only her mother is,” Lauren said as she walked away from him, following the route in the sand that her daughter took to reach the road.
“Lauren, wait,” Will said, running to catch up. “We can talk more tomorrow, okay? I have a plan. I haven’t followed through on it but now I know I need to do it. I will. I promise.”
Lauren turned and faced him, even though her daughter could be watching them. “Don’t you dare call me until you execute your so-called plan. Oh, and you can tell your wife to stop stalking all of my friends on Facebook and Instagram. It’s creepy and pathetic.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Will asked, but Lauren was running toward her daughter who was waiting for her on the road, hands on her hips. He loved watching Lauren run, he realized. He’d never seen her move that quickly before and it turned him on. He shook his head. It was time to grab his bike and head home. Hopefully Carol liked his Instagram post as much as everybody else—except Lauren—had. He needed to ask Carol how to make a post private, he reminded himself, as he unlocked his bike lock. The sun had set but if he hurried, he’d be home before it was completely dark.
As he peddled up the big hill toward home, he wondered if he would ever be able to execute his plan. He’d fantasized about it so often. It was the only solution, he realized. He wished he could write it on the family calendar, in his color. Pick a day and just do it, write it in green Sharpie so he couldn’t balk, wouldn’t be able to change his mind. But this was one thing Carol wouldn’t be able to plan for him, even though she was pushing him to do it by trying to control him. He wished she would let him do what he wanted, for both of their sakes. But she wouldn’t. So he had no choice.
He was on his own.
JUD
This house felt so big to him compared to his desert hideaway, he thought, as he walked in the back door.
It wasn’t that it was that much larger than the desert house, he supposed, but it was somehow more stifling, more confining in its largeness. In the desert his home was mid-century modern, with clean lines and very sparse, sophisticated furnishings; it welcomed the outside in with a continuous flow. Here, Sarah had added “beachy” cottage elements to their stark contemporary, seashells and sea glass cluttered some of the counters. He had tried over the years to teach her about fine art and architecture, but she was more interested in being a mom, playing tennis, and baking cookies. That was fine, nothing wrong with that. She was a great mom. He had tried taking her to Paris once, but she had just wanted to shop instead of tour the great art museums. It was best, he’d decided a while ago, that he kept the desert and travel to himself. He liked his life compartmentalized. She’d always said she looked forward to traveling with him once Ashley left home, but hopefully she didn’t really mean it.
“Hey, Dad,” Ashley said, running to give him a big hug as he entered the kitchen. “How was Paris?” She’d been seated at the island, holding hands with The Boyfriend. Jud refused to learn his name, hoping he’d been an anomaly. Ashley hadn’t ever dated before and now this boy was like an appendage, an unwelcome presence in his already over-cluttered home.
“How’s the most beautiful girl in the world doing?” Jud asked, focusing on his gorgeous daughter, still stunned as she grew more perfect every day. When he examined her facial symmetry, there wasn’t a thing even he could correct. “What are you two working on? Homework?” Jud nodded in the direction of The Boyfriend and the young man stood, tall and bulky, and approached him, presumably to shake his hand. Jud held up his hands like the kid was a bank robber. “Sorry,” he said to the boy. He hated this type of man on a visceral level and never trusted them to shake with respect.
“We’re working on our Stanford apps,” they answered in unison, turning to each other glowing. This was a huge problem, Jud realized. He could not allow Ashley to marry young, and especially not to a meathead. Look what had happened to him and Sarah. He’d learned a lot lately about how to find your soul mate; and they just didn’t exist in high school, or college, he was sure of it.
“Ashley, you are attending Harvard in the fall. It’s settled,” Jud sa
id, a pronouncement that he directed to The Boyfriend. “This whole notion of Stanford even rivaling the best school in the world. Ridiculous. End of discussion.”
“Well look who is finally home,” Sarah said walking into the kitchen. She was his careful invention of perfection. She entered the room like a virginal beauty queen, carrying a bouquet of bright white flowers of some kind in her arms. He noticed she didn’t come over to him, though, and there was no kiss on the cheek even. An interesting development, he thought, realizing she must be angry with him. He needed to take her on a date, he reminded himself.
He watched as his wife filled a large glass vase at the sink and placed the flowers into the crisp cold water.
“Blake, could you lift these onto the island? Once the vase is full, it gets so heavy,” Sarah said.
“Happy to, Mrs. Nelson,” Blake said, hurrying around the island.
“Sarah,” Jud said, walking over to his wife and kissing her cheek. He held her forearm in his hand. “I’ve missed you this week. Have you lost more weight?”
“That’s code for I look bad,” Sarah said, her smile fading immediately as she pulled away from him.
“No, not at all. It’s just that I worry about you,” Jud said. That was true. She was an important part of his practice, his image in the community. He needed her to flourish, to look vital. This fall he’d noticed her becoming increasingly fragile, a butterfly floating in a world full of toxic dangers. It was just a matter of time if she didn’t eat properly. Time was something he was accustomed to stopping.
“We’ve made an executive decision,” Sarah said, ignoring his concern. He was trying for heaven’s sake. “We’d all like to go out to dinner tonight.”
Jud’s heart sank. He had been looking forward to an evening at home after being on the road for a week, a home-cooked meal, maybe even a fire in the fireplace after dinner, the light dancing around the room as they shared a good cabernet. He forced a smile. “Of course, whatever my ladies would like.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” Ashley said. “Mom, we should go now. Carlos is coming in an hour and a half.”
Who’s Carlos? Jud thought.
“Ashley’s voice coach,” Sarah said, answering the question he didn’t ask.
“I thought we agreed she didn’t need one, she won’t be pursuing singing as a career,” Jud said, feeling that familiar tightness in his jaw that happened when things weren’t going his way. He didn’t like the feeling, not at all.
“The school drama teacher really thinks she has talent. And since she has focused on sports for so long, this is a chance to broaden her interests,” Sarah said, smiling at Ashley as if Jud wasn’t even in the room. As if she were the one paying for all of this. His daughter had been scouted by all the top schools for her volleyball prowess and GPA, not her songbird ability. She would be fine without voice coaches.
“Sir, all due respect, but Ashley sings like an angel,” The Boyfriend said.
Jud ignored him.
“Dad, it’s one night a week for an hour. I won’t lose focus on the other things, promise,” Ashley said, standing up from the barstool and giving him a hug, instantly diffusing his growing anger.
“Yes, good. That’s it. Would hate to see you lose sight of the goal when we’re in the home stretch of senior year,” Jud said. He knew the odds of actually bumping into his daughter during one of his trips to the desert were remote, but if she stayed here, out West, the odds increased. He’d feel more comfortable with her in Boston. And she needed to dump The Boyfriend.
“Let’s go. Our reservation is in ten minutes,” Sarah said, trying to change the subject.
“See ya,” Jud said to The Boyfriend, happy to be getting his women to himself.
“Blake is coming to dinner, Dad,” Ashley said.
“No. I’d like it to be just family, Ash. I’ve been on the road all week,” Jud said.
“Right. Well, we’ve been here all week and Blake is family to me. Why don’t you two go have a nice romantic dinner,” Ashley said. “We’ll eat something here.”
She was defying him because of The Boyfriend. And what could he say? What should he do? Stomp his foot and demand that she come with him, yank her forcibly by her hair to the car? Punch her smug boyfriend in the nose? No, he realized, those tactics—tactics his dad would have utilized—were barbarian and inappropriate, and besides, he couldn’t hurt his hands. He needed to use his words instead. Tom had found him a therapist and so far, he had suffered through five sessions. He was practicing not being what his bitchy therapist described as “a self-centered toddler, a narcissist.” He knew he wasn’t one of those, despite what the awful woman therapist said. But some of her words had helped him pretend to be better, do better.
“Ashley. I’m so disappointed in you. I missed you this week and looked forward to catching up. I guess it will be another time,” Jud said, using some of the words the therapist had taught him. He was to be “disappointed,” not “angry.” He should not expect that his wife and daughter do everything he said. They were “individuals,” strong women with their own lives, she had told him. He smiled. His jaw was tight but he was in control. His phone rang. He glanced at the number. He needed to take this call he realized as the screen lit up with Tom’s name. He never called him at home, not unless it was urgent. That was the rule. “Excuse me,” he said, and hurried out of the room. Sarah gave him a look as if he’d become an alien, and Ashley tilted her head in a perplexed lost puppy stare.
He hurried into his office and closed the door. “Yes, what is it?”
“Hey, sorry to bother you at home but you need to meet him tonight. He’s insistent. You have what you need. Just remember the deep breathing exercises. He’s waiting at the steak house, Sylvia’s. He’s there now, call me after,” Tom said. Jud imagined Tom sitting on the edge of his couch at his condo, as nervous at this moment as Jud was. Tom had handled hiring the private investigator. He had promised Jud he had what he needed to “eliminate” the threat. Jud hoped he was right.
He walked back into the kitchen.
“Uh, sorry, Dad,” Ashley said, their eyes meeting for a moment before she turned back to The Boyfriend.
“No problem. Hey, that call was work. I’ve got to go meet a fellow surgeon for a drink at Sylvia’s. I’ve been blowing him off for a month, but it won’t take long. Why don’t you come over in an hour or so, Sarah? We can have dinner there,” he said, hoping he sounded calm.
“That place is really good,” The Boyfriend said.
“Sarah?” he said, glancing over at his wife. “Good plan?”
“Sure. Just text me when you need me. Sounds romantic,” Sarah said, her voice flat, her eyes glassy.
“Okay then,” Jud said, turning to leave noticing Ashley was holding The Boyfriend’s hand. Jud wondered if they had sex. Of course they had sex. He’d ask Sarah about it. Good dinner discussion. He wished she would eat so she wouldn’t look so much like a victim of some awful disease. He’d make sure she ordered steak tonight.
He drove too quickly to the restaurant and pulled into the valet stand, jumped out of the car, and hurried into the restaurant, ready for battle. The over-smiley, overweight hostess greeted him by his first name and started to take him to his favorite table, a two top in the corner.
“Oh, no, sorry, I’m meeting someone here first for a drink. But can you save that table for when my wife arrives?” Jud asked.
“Of course, Sir, I’ll try my best,” she answered, as Jud spied the traitor he was meeting in a corner booth. He took a deep breath and walked toward the man, a man who was trying to ruin his life. He pulled out the chair, nodding to Dr. Brad Bennett.
“Dr. Nelson. Good to see you again,” Bennett said. They’d met only twice before, but for some reason Bennett had fixated on Jud. Jud presumed because he was the most renowned plastic surgeon in Orange County and Bennett’s practice paled in comparison. What Bennett wanted, though, Jud couldn’t give him. Superior talent was a gift from above, and only J
ud had it. A shame really.
Jud shook his head and stared into the candle flickering in the middle of the table. The white linen tablecloth offered hope. He imagined himself playing the video game Call of Duty. Jud was a surgeon, proficient and efficient at the video game. In the gaming world, his opponent’s greasy round face was already in his crosshairs. Jud smiled. This would be a kill. In the Call of Duty world, Jud would no-scope him—a quick, clean kill. Jud was just learning that skill. But he’d soon be proficient. A kill was a kill.
“I know you know why we’re here. We both know what I saw, what I can prove. And nobody ever needs to know your dirty little secret if you give me what I want.”
Jud smiled and stared across the table as the kill continued to speak. He imagined a target superimposed on the man’s ugly face.
“The new patent you’re working on. I want a share of the overall proceeds and the exclusive rights to perform the procedure in my office. We can call it the Nelson-Bennett Procedure, with you retaining naming rights,” Dr. Bennett said, his voice soothing, his brows knit, concerned, as if he were talking to a sick patient and not the best plastic surgeon in America. The man had gall, that’s for certain. “Dr. Nelson?”
Ah, the mark had finally stopped talking, Jud thought. He reached for his glass of cabernet, barely touched. His favorite waiter, Scott, had arrived and delivered his wine unasked, and had left just as quickly. He was Jud’s favorite for many reasons—efficient service, full pours of his favorite drinks, and assuring his steaks were perfectly cooked. Scott was smart, too, and discreet. Jud had eaten at this restaurant regularly for the almost two years it had been opened. He felt at home here, in control of his surroundings. It was fortunate Bennett had chosen a place where Jud was so at home, but it wouldn’t have changed things if they’d met at the Jack in the Box across the street. He took a deep breath. And then another. He used the motion of swirling his wine inside his glass for time, for reflection.
“Yes, Dr. Bennett. That sounds like a wonderful, albeit illogical solution to our predicament,” Jud said, making sure to keep his voice calm. “The more logical solution would be for you to go fuck yourself.”