Evelyn turned to him as he drove. “How long are we talking?”
“Retirement.”
“Get out of here. Are you serious?”
Brant nodded.
“And it pays well?”
“My divorce lawyer prefers I don't divulge that information.”
“I see.” Evelyn faced forward. A moment passed before she spoke again. “I suppose that's why you're splurging tonight, with dinner at The Cattleman's Club.”
“Best steak in all of Austin, in my opinion. It's become my fave.”
“Your fave,” Evelyn repeated. Brant knew her next words before she spoke them: “I'm ordering the most expensive steak they've got.”
“An 80-ounce surf and turf with lobster tail, I believe. You must be hungry.”
“I am. I may opt for dessert, too. Of course I'll need a doggy bag.”
“Of course. That should cover your groceries for the next few days.”
“Possibly.” Evelyn, grinning, patted his leg. “I always did like giving you a hard time, Brant.”
“Turnabout is fair play, Ev. As I recall you enjoyed being on the receiving end of a hard time equally well.”
“Perhaps.”
Their conversation turned toward Evelyn's job at the bank and how she missed not having to work. Brant, on the other hand, explained how he loved his work and hadn't enjoyed work so much in a very long time. Conversation paused when they reached the restaurant. An attendant valet parked the car as Brant escorted Evelyn inside. They'd arrived early and so enjoyed a drink at the bar before being seated.
Brant, intuiting Ev's intentions, allowed her to steer the conversation. After all, she'd asked to see him again; he was curious to see how long she'd wait before bringing up the topic of divorce. It surfaced midway through cheesecake for dessert. She had ordered surf in turf, although the steak hadn't been nearly as huge as Brant had suggested. She'd have plenty, though, to eat tomorrow.
Evelyn said, “This is nice, going out to dinner with you. I've missed it.”
I'll bet you have, Brant thought.
“Last year was rough on us,” Evelyn elaborated. “We both said and did things we regret. We needed time and space. Anyone would. These papers you want me to sign... I don't think we should be so rash. You know?”
“I know.”
I know you dislike working for a living
I know you realize I've bounced back from being downsized
I know you've sown your wild oats and are ready to head back to the homestead
I know you haven't dined anywhere as nice as this since you left me
I also know that if I don't talk too much you'll take me to bed
“My god, Brant, you're such a great lay.”
“I can't recall you ever having a complaint.”
“Either I'd forgotten just how good you are, or you've improved. Which is it, stud?” Evelyn teased.
“Probably just the seafood you had for dinner.”
“Oysters, yes. Lobster, I'm not so sure that makes a difference.”
Evelyn, smiling, draped an arm across Brant's bare chest and snuggled her naked body closer to him.
She said, “I still can't believe you traded the BMW in for that sporty SUV.”
“Why is it so hard to believe I bought a Range Rover? We were discussing buying a new car before I lost my job. That very model, in fact.”
“Yes, I understand. But the plan had been for us to swap and trade in the Infinity. It's ten years old, you know. We might be separated but I don't see why we wouldn't stick with that plan.”
Brant didn't reply.
“What is it?” Evelyn asked. “I can see your wheels spinning.”
“Who said I traded the BMW?”
“You didn't trade the BMW?” A hopeful expression lit on her face.
“No, I didn't.”
“Then we can trade. We can sell the Infinity and split the money.”
“I don't think so.”
“Fine. You keep the money. It's worth it to me. Besides, some doohickey failed and I had to have the damn thing towed to a repair shop last month. Did I tell you?”
“Not that I recall, though you may have sent a text that I missed.”
“Whatever. It was a major pain in the ass, let me tell you. Perhaps I can follow you to your place later. I truly appreciate your letting us trade vehicles.”
“I said no such thing. You simply assumed, as you often do.”
Evelyn, taken aback, said, “But you don't need two cars. I, on the other hand, need reliable transportation. Do you want your wife stranded on the side of the road next time the car decides to break down?”
“Of course I don't. I don't want my daughter left stranded, either.”
“What are you saying, that Katie is driving the BMW now?”
“She runs a lot of errands for me.”
“A nineteen-year-old girl doesn't need a 7-series BMW. Hell, she doesn't need an Infinity either, but that does make more sense.”
“Believe what you will. All I'm saying is I'm not switching vehicles with you.”
Evelyn rolled away from him. “Fine. The car situation would go a long way toward mending our relationship, but your car, your call.”
“I agree.”
“Don't be an ass. I bring you home and let you screw me and this is the thanks I get? Don't answer that. No big deal. You've got a good job now – great, actually. My attorney – yes, I have an attorney, too – my attorney says you should be providing spousal maintenance while we work things out.”
“I won't fight you on that. Let the lawyers settle it. Once they have, you'll receive your money. I'm sure Katie will be just as timely with maintenance payments as you were with child support.”
“God, Brant,” Evelyn said as she rose out of bed, “I can't believe we let it get this far. But we can work everything out, I'm sure. The lawyers will work things out financially until we can work things out between ourselves.” She pulled a pair of jeans from the dresser and began to step into them. “I just need your current address. All the paperwork I received still lists our old address. I can't believe your attorney didn't catch that error. Does he chase ambulances on weekends?”
“No. I didn't hire an ambulance-chaser to represent me. The address is correct.”
“What?”
“The address is correct.”
“I heard you. What the hell do you mean the address is correct? We sold the house.”
“Yes, I know. I bought it. My ambulance-chasing attorney—”
“Submitted an anonymous bid for you, you goddamn sonovabitch.”
“What do you care? It sold for more than the previous bid, which you wanted to accept. You got your money, just like you wanted. You've gotten everything that you've wanted. You should be happy.”
“Why the hell would you do this to me?” Ev pulled a blouse over her head and breasts and jabbed a finger at him. “You never liked that house to begin with.”
“Not true. I liked it fine, just didn't see the need for it. Sure, maybe once we started a family, but we decided to wait.”
“And you need it now, you and Katie?”
“Katie, Jenna, an office for my team—”
“Who the fuck is Jenna?”
“Jenna is Katie's friend, from Java Joe's.”
“The place where Katie works.”
“Well, sort of. Katie works for me now, as my personal assistant. Executive assistant.”
“Personal executive assistant. Wow. And her friend lives there, too. You certainly have enough room.”
“Exactly.”
“Jesus Christ, Brant. A daughter and her friend doesn't justify a house that size, nor a 7-Series BMW.”
“You're certainly entitled to your opinion,” Brant said as he got out of bed and started gathering his clothes. “You should see what we've done to the library. It's not just Stephen King novels and cookbooks anymore.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, let's see it. I cannot believe you're doing this to me. I'm sure the place looks as empty and pathetic as when I left.”
“Sure. No problem. Meet you there.”
“Daddy, you're home.” Katie threw arms around Brant and kissed his mouth as he stepped in from the garage. She stopped suddenly when the doorbell rang.
“That's Evelyn. She found out about the house.”
A devious grin crossed Katie's face. “Oh, boy, she must be pissed.”
“Fit to be tied,” Brant agreed. “Where's Jenna?”
“In the great room. We've had a few drinks.”
“I could tell when you kissed me.”
“I'll behave in front of Ev.”
Brant didn't care. He answered the door.
“Hi, Katie.” Evelyn flashed a phony smile as she strode inside.
“Hi, Ev.”
“Brant tells me you work for him now. How you like driving the BMW?”
“It's bitchin'. Daddy is the best.”
“Bitchin',” Evelyn sarcastically repeated. “Where should we start? The library? Is your friend Jenna here? What's up with the two cars in the drive. Wait, let me guess. Jenna has a friend over, too.”
“No,” Katie said. “Those belong to the witch bitches.”
“Witch bitches?”
“One thing at a time,” Brant said. He whisked Evelyn in the direction of the wet bar and great room. “Let's start with a drink. You could use one. We all could.”
“I'm good,” Katie said. “Another drink'll make me loop-dee-looped.”
“Make mine a double,” Evelyn said, rolling eyes.
Brant introduced Jenna, who poured Evelyn and herself a margarita, as Brant uncapped a bottle of beer for himself.
“I noticed the dining room set,” Evelyn said. “This new job of yours must be a goddamn doozie.”
“Daddy is building the biggest, most badass computer network in the world.”
Evelyn, guzzling her margarita, looked to Brant for confirmation.
“It's going to be amazing,” he agreed.
“As big as Google,” Katie added.
“Not as big physically,” Brant conceded, “but equally significant. More so.”
“Big as Google? Just you and girlie-girl and the lush in the booty shorts and top that barely covers her tits? Yeah, right.”
“Make 'em bounce,” Katie urged and Jenna laughingly accommodated.
“Enough is enough, girls,” Brant said. “Put the claws and boobs away. No need to be catty. If you follow me, you'll see we've set up cubicles in the sun room.” Brant went on, albeit in a very general manner, how he'd hired a core team to work in a virtual office spanning five remote sites (six if you counted Kansas but he planned to shut it down). His team would occasionally meet here to discuss mission-critical issues and the sun room would serve them well.
“But that's not all,” Brant continued. “You wanted a tour, follow me.”
Next on the stop came the library. Jenna, not wishing to miss any excitement, tagged along. Candles had burned down low and a fire still burned in the fireplace and firelight danced in the reflective eyeless faces of paintings on the wall.
Evelyn strode in carrying her drink. “These must be the witch bitches,” she said.
“Brainy Witch, Goth Witch, and Skinny Witch. I'm not sure what happened to Fat Witch and Sassy Witch.”
Evelyn gaped at the sight. “Where the hell did you get all these books? And furniture, and – I can't believe it – and honest to goodness bearskin rug.”
“The books came courtesy of a business partner,” Brant explained.
“The bearskin rug was my idea,” Katie said.
“It's actually very comfortable,” Jenna added.
“Very comfortable?” Ev said but before anyone could reply Brainy Witch came lugging a thick tome. She said:
“Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Wilson, you should see this.”
Brant glanced at the page the book was open to, a spell of power and knowledge to be imparted on a person, place, or thing.
“You were thinking this would be great for the library?” Brant said.
Brainy Witch, smiling, nudged glasses higher on her nose. “Yes, Mr. Wilson. I knew you'd want to see this.”
“You are smart. Make note of the page and we'll discuss later.” Smart and cute. Way cuter, now that he thought of it, than Sassy Witch. Probably much smarter, too.
“Thank you.” She turned and walked away.
“Well, aren't you something with all your young women,” Evelyn said.
“This isn't everyone,” Katie said.
“What?” Ev said.
“The fat one and the sassy one,” Jenna said, “are both sleeping.”
“Sleeping here? Come on, Brant,” Ev said, “let's continue the tour.”
The home featured one bedroom on the main level, the second-largest of the four. It had been set up, Brant said and Katie elaborated, as a business suite for his team. They found the door to the room shut.
“I suppose this is where your sassy young women are napping.”
“I said they could use the room,” Jenna confirmed.
“What's going on?” a voice from behind the door said. Then the door opened and a slightly disheveled female with weary eyes opened the door.
“Hey, Sassy,” Brant said, “sorry to interrupt your rest.”
“No worries. Just catching a few Zs but I'm awake now. Kimber is still sleeping, though. Evelyn peered into the room, practically seething now. She turned to Brant and said:
“What else have you done?”
Katie replied first, “We bought new furniture for the bedrooms upstairs, too.”
“Well, what are we waiting for, let's see the new bedroom furniture.” Ev drained her glass as she stormed down the hall to the stairs. “I see you bought a new goddamn umbrella stand,” she said as she left the empty glass on a small table in the foyer beside it.
“I always liked having an umbrella stand,” Brant said.
Upstairs, Evelyn found the study undisturbed. It still functioned, temporarily Brant explained, as his computer room-office.
“This is my room,” Jenna said. It, too, hadn't changed much.
“I presume this is Katie's room, with all the nice new furniture,” Ev said as they passed the next bedroom.
Brant shot looks at Katie and Jenna and nobody replied.
Then, when they reached the master bedroom suite, Evelyn stood aghast, taking it all in: new California king-sized bed, mirrored ceiling, new 50-inch flat screen television mounted to the wall, new love seat, chairs, mirrored dresser and small desk area, and...
“Good lord, Brant, how many women have you had up here?”
“Evelyn...”
“Take your hand off me.” Then the other items in the room registered: large stuffed bear on the bed, another, even larger, bear in a corner, the frilly Daddy's Rules book Katie had created sitting on the dresser, along with a bottle of lube, furry handcuffs, stainless steel vibrator, decorated paddle, anal beads, and assorted perfumes, gum, and jewelry, including some of the candy variety. Evelyn said, “Holy shit. You're fucking your own daughter.”
“Katie is your daughter?” Jenna said, astonished.
“Daddy loves me,” Katie explained, intoxicatingly wrapping an arm around his waist.
“You're sick, Brant. Sick. You too, you little slut,” Ev said.
“Now, Evelyn...”
“Don't now Evelyn me. God, I can't believe I let you screw me tonight. You manipulated and controlled me.”
“I did no such thing. I simply understand how you operate and let you steer me into bed.”
“You'll be hearing from my attorney.”
Evelyn's eyes became glassy as she rushed away. A moment later, the front door slammed shut. Then Brant turned to find Katie's eyes equally glassy, chin quivering.
“You fucked her,” she said.
Brant didn't reply. He simply tried to console her with a hug
but received a similar response when she pulled away from him and shouted “I hate you” before rushing away.
“You're a real piece of work,” Jenna said, opening the cap on her ring for a spoonful of coke.
Brant turned the conversation around with: “If Katie ever does any of that shit you snort, I'll kill you.”
After a stabbing glare Jenna went to her room to do her drug. Then, from downstairs, came screams followed by the sound of shattering glass. Brant casually went downstairs to see what he knew he'd find. Katie tossing bottles of liquor around the room. She'd shattered the mirror behind the bar and several bottles of beer. He caught her chucking a bottle of Jim Beam into the flat panel television in the great room. He watched as she busted a few more bottles of beer and only moved to action once she stopped to cut eyes at him.
“You fucked her. I can't believe you fucked her tonight. I fucking hate you,” Katie shouted.
“You don't hate me,” Brant said.
“I do. I do fucking hate you. I can't believe I let you fuck my li'l girl pussy, Daddy.” She reached for another bottle to throw but Brant stopped her short.
“That's enough,” he said. “You're going to hurt yourself.”
“I don't care. I want to hurt. I want to die,” Katie bawled.
“No, you don't.”
“I do. I hate you, hate you, hate you.” She kicked his shin and tried to claw him with her free hand.
“Stop, damn it.”
She didn't stop. If anything she grew more frustratingly emotional and irrational than ever, kicking, screaming, crying her eyes out. Cheap, girlish mascara ran down her face and it seemed she might completely lose it.
So Brant slapped her face, which calmed her down but didn't entirely placate her.
“You're overdue for maintenance punishment, sweetie. Daddy doesn't want to do it but he has to.”
“No, Daddy! No!”
“Would you rather Daddy put you on a bus for Wichita Falls?”
“NO!”
Brant slapped her again, dragged her thrashing body up to their bedroom. And, after a thorough blistering of her bare bottom with the paddle, fucked her nine ways from Sunday. He sensed an audience while he did so, and at one point thought Jenna had entered the room, either as a voyeur or would-be participant, or possibly to intercede. He didn't, however, find Jenna nor any of the wiccans in the room. Afterward, Brant cradled his whimpering, shivering daughter in his arms until she calmed.
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