by Nesly Clerge
“I’m sure you’re imagining it.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Be nice. I think you think he’s cheating again because you’re feeling so insecure. Which you shouldn’t.”
Chelsea shook her head. “That Bentley you admire so much? I’ve told you before: The more expensive the gift, the more egregious the infidelity. At least, that’s been Garrett’s pattern so far.”
Penelope’s laugh was hollow. “I’d consider that a fair exchange, as long as the bastard was as good-looking as Garrett and had as much money or more.”
“What price can you put on the kind of pain that rips your heart out?”
“Sorry, Chels. Just trying to get you to lighten up.”
“I’m either going to follow him or hire a private detective.” Chelsea turned on the light in her spacious walk-in closet and began to look for an outfit she might feel less embarrassed about wearing.
“Can’t follow him in your new car. You’d have to rent a clunker. He’d find out about a P.I. They’re not cheap. Leave it alone, Chels. What you don’t know won’t hurt you. If it were me in your Ferragamos, I’d fight fire with fire.”
Chelsea walked to the door, with a light loose sweater half-slipped on. She pulled the sweater over her bosom. “I’m not following you.”
“Get a hot man on the side and make sure Garrett finds out. The old dose-of-his-own-medicine thing. Maybe how that feels will penetrate his thick skull. And you’ll have some fun in the bargain.”
Chelsea turned and stood in front of the double-wide built-in shoe rack. She stared blankly at the floor-to-ceiling array of expensive footwear. Who’d want her? What kind of man would she want? He’d have to have some of Garrett’s more favorable characteristics and be free of the worst ones.
Luke Thompson’s handsome face and warm eyes came to mind. If only she could be loved by a man like that, whose keen sensitivity was so beautifully expressed as it was through his writing.
Chelsea felt her cheeks flush. She’d never dated an African American. If she had, what might her family and friends have said? Segments of society had loosened its stranglehold on mixed marriages. Not that it mattered, especially if she cared for the man and he cared for her.
She shook off the useless musing and selected a pair of shoes that matched her slacks and wouldn’t hurt her feet if theirs turned into an all-day shopping spree. She eased her feet into the loafers. No way to compete appearance-wise with Penelope. She might as well be comfortable.
Penelope was right about one thing: Garrett had no idea how betrayal felt. She’d made sure of it. She wondered if he’d even care. Whatever keeps you off my back, babe. Especially if it meant he wouldn’t be expected to put her on her back a couple of times a week, or even just once.
Penelope looked in from the closet doorway. “Are you ready yet?”
Chelsea stared straight ahead. “Maybe I am.”
CHAPTER 22
Luke reread Chelsea Hall’s e-mail on Goodreads then clicked on her profile page. Attractive. Not a lot of information about her posted there, but she seemed normal. And sincere.
It was more than a sense of obligation that led him to respond: her comments fed his need to be valued and respected as a writer.
Chelsea, thank you for the kind words. I’m delighted you enjoyed A Dark Walk. It’s refreshing to know someone appreciates my work. Thank you in advance for the forthcoming review. I look forward to reading it.
Luke startled when the front door was slammed shut with force. He went to the door of the room he used as his office. Brandi glared at him from the den. Her hard gaze met his quizzical one, but she didn’t greet him. Face pinched, she made her way into the kitchen and flung her keys and purse onto the counter.
Luke went to her. “What’s wrong?”
“Six fucking years.”
“What’s happened, babe?”
Brandi pulled out a stool from under the counter and plunked onto it. “I got laid off. Without any notice. Got to work and found the pink slip and a check for two month’s pay in an envelope on my desk. Then I got politely escorted out.”
Luke wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “That’s awful. I’m sorry it happened, but it’ll be fine. Someone with your skills can easily get another job. An even better one, where you’re appreciated.”
Brandi shoved him away. “It’s hard enough that we’re barely making it. I’m the only one bringing in a decent income, and now that’s gone.”
“I know you’re upset, sweetheart, but with what we have put away, the check they gave you, and what I earn at work, we’ll be fine until you get another job. I know that won’t take long. You’re brilliant.”
“We’ve got enough for all of three months. That’s it. What you bring in certainly won’t make me feel secure in the meantime. Part-time work. Of all things for a grown man with a family to do. Just so you can sit in front of your damn computer hours on end, and for no money. You were offered a teaching job, but did you take it? No.”
“I told you it—”
“Takes away from your fucking novels that don’t sell. Do you know how much pressure being the breadwinner puts me under? Do you even care? You’re so selfish. Irresponsible. You’re the one with the balls. Act like it.”
“Calm down, Brandi. Before you say anything else you’ll regret.”
Brandi slid off the stool. “Do not tell me to calm down. You want to know what I regret?” Tears filled her eyes. “Never mind. Talking about reality with you is useless. It’s like talking to a three-year-old.” She sprinted up the stairs and did what he knew she would.
Glasses in the cabinet clinked when the door to their bedroom above the kitchen slammed, shutting him out.
CHAPTER 23
Brandi had plunged the knife in deep and twisted it. Another skill she was brilliant at, when she had a mind to use it, which occurred with more frequency these days. James would tell him only a passive schmuck would let his wife talk to him like that.
Luke returned to his office and lowered himself into the chair at his desk. He should stand up for himself, but at the moment, he felt defeated. Torn between fulfilling an obligation to Brandi and fulfilling one to himself. He got up and paced.
James had warned him about being pressured to marry Brandi, and doing so for companionship rather than true love, and he’d been right. But he’d stated at the altar that it was for better or worse, and not until death would they part. How many more times would he have to say those words until they stuck?
He wasn’t going to go through the turmoil of another divorce. It wasn’t worth it. Not this time. Not ever again.
He felt broken. Trounced by Brandi, his harshest critic. She was right, though: He was a failure. His books weren’t selling. That was his fault. Because he spent most of his time writing and hardly any on marketing, as though wishing for better results would change anything. Success as a writer was a long shot. He’d known that, but that desired outcome and its companion prosperity retreated further away each day.
His attention returned to the computer screen, still open to Chelsea Hall’s message. It seemed the only words of encouragement he’d heard in longer than he could remember had come from a stranger. Now more than ever, he needed some of that kindness. He sat and positioned his fingers on the keyboard, adding to his as yet unsent reply.
Thank you for believing in me. It matters more than you know. I was pleasantly surprised to learn we both live in Waltham. Maybe we can meet for coffee one day (my treat) so I can thank you in person.
He double-checked for typos and hit Send. Then realized such an invitation was probably a mistake. That was the thing about mistakes and missteps, wasn’t it? Even a second later was too late to take them back.
What if Chelsea said yes? Brandi’s reaction to his meeting a fan was all too easy to imagine. He’d have to lie to her, if he kept the meeting.
It was doubtful that Chelsea would agree. But what if she did?
He’d make some excu
se. He had enough problems with Brandi as it was.
CHAPTER 24
A few pieces of leftover chicken were placed onto a plate and into the microwave. Over the hum of the appliance, Luke heard footsteps thump down the stairs. A red-eyed Brandi, without looking at him, opened the refrigerator and stared at its contents. He drummed his fingers on the counter. Watched the numbers on the timer perform a digital countdown. Felt the three minutes last an eternity.
Brandi grabbed a soda and sat at the counter. Luke tucked four chilled beers into the crook of his arm and grabbed his plate with his free hand. No way was he going to eat with his wife’s energy nuking him. He’d eat in the basement. In peace or, at least, quiet.
He guzzled the first beer then ate a drumstick, followed by a second beer, a thigh, a third beer, a wing. After he drained the fourth beer can, the effects of the alcohol and Brandi’s silent treatment collided. He scrolled to James’ number on his cell phone. At “Hello” he began talking non-stop.
After a few minutes, James interrupted him. “Dude, you been drinking. Don’t want to be unsympathetic, but let’s talk about this shit when you’re sober. Maybe in the morning. Get some sleep, man.”
Luke turned off the phone and stared at the blank screen, wondering what was wrong with his friend. Probably interrupted him in the middle of doing the horizontal mambo with his wife. Or someone else. It would be a long time before Brandi danced with him again.
It was too far to go back to his office for his laptop, and best to avoid Brandi for a while. He’d wait a half hour or so. If she was still in sight, he’d grab the laptop and retreat. Fast.
He turned his phone back on. Went back to his Goodreads page. Maybe it would help to read Chelsea Hall’s praise one more time before trying to write amid the tempest threatening to break loose in his house.
She truly was a beautiful woman, with a kind face and enigmatic blue eyes framed by thick shoulder-length auburn hair. He leaned back and closed his eyes. What was it like to caress skin the color of cream? To see the blush of orgasm spread across her skin? These were precarious thoughts. He wouldn’t be having them if his life was more fulfilling. And if Brandi didn’t consider him a loser.
He opened his eyes. There was another message for him. From her.
Luke—may I call you that?—you obviously have talent. Lots of it. And I’m certain you have many fans who would agree with me. Some people hesitate to post their thoughts about what they’ve read, for whatever reason. Be patient. The praise will come. You’ve earned it.
No response from her about meeting for coffee. Relief and disappointment competed inside him. It would mean a great deal to sit face to face with a fan, even for just a quarter of an hour.
Please … call me Luke. Chelsea—means seaport; like a port in a storm. I’m glad you think I have talent and that praise is forthcoming. But my wife thinks otherwise.
He hit Send. He should regret revealing something so personal, especially as a criticism about Brandi. It was disloyal, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.
That’s because you’re drunk, fool, he muttered.
Luke shrugged. Should know better than to drink and write. That only leads to regret. And heavy editing.
CHAPTER 25
Upstairs, a cabinet was slammed hard. Then another. Luke’s eyelids felt too leaden to lift. His head drummed. His mouth was like drywall, his breath rank. It was morning, judging by the bit of light fighting its way through the grime on the small basement window.
He sat up, stiff from sleeping uncovered on the ratty sofa. Brandi had left him in the basement. Probably hadn’t even come down to check on him. He rubbed his eyes and face. Noticed the shot glass and nearly empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table. When had he gotten the tequila?
His Goodreads page was open on his phone. Why? Then he remembered.
Stupid damn fool. Certain he’d lost his only fan, he typed again.
Chelsea, please forgive me. The message I sent last night was inappropriate. My sincere apology.
He signed out and checked the time: 8:07. Time to pick up the pace. His restaurant shift started at nine this morning.
No way to avoid going upstairs. No way to avoid Brandi. All he knew was that he wasn’t in the mood for an argument or to be subjected to more of her vitriol. Not with a raging hangover.
Luke crept up the stairs, each step amplifying the sensation in his head. He heard Brandi in the office, talking on the phone. What he heard halted his steps.
“My life is crap. There’s no money. Nor does Luke care about it, not as long as I’m bringing it in. I’m fed up with making his life easy so he can pretend he’s a writer. Most of the little he does earn from waiting tables goes to his ex-wife. And that son of his—such a rude little twit. As though my life isn’t miserable enough. I’m sorry I ever married him. He’s worthless. Refuses to act like an adult.”
Her comments should have shamed him. Instead, they enraged him. Luke continued across the room silently then dashed up the stairs and into the shower. No way would he be late for work. In fact, he’d be early. Anything to get away from her.
As his foot hit the bottom step ten minutes later, Brandi came out of his office.
“Where are you off to?” she asked.
“Where do you think? This worthless child-man has to work.”
“I didn’t realize … Luke, I’m sorry you heard that. I thought you were still—”
“Save it.”
This time he was the one who slammed the door.
CHAPTER 26
Luke and James sat in silence on a bench in the restaurant courtyard. The ten-minute shift break was welcome. Luke nursed a cup of strong black coffee—his fourth. Even though the sky was overcast, he squinted his eyes against the gray light.
“Okay, dude,” James said. “You don’t get drunk. Not like that. Start talking.”
“Brandi got pink-slipped yesterday. No advance warning or anything.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Then she dumped on me. Wants me to quit writing and get a full-time job. Wants me to teach kids who think anything more than 140 characters is as much as they can write or read at one time.”
“That old horse again. Still, she has a point. The bills have to be paid.”
“I overheard her tell one of her girlfriends that I’m worthless; that Tim and I make her life miserable. She’s dissatisfied with her life. She’s not the only one.”
“You hope it was a girlfriend.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When’s the last time you and Brandi bumped your nether parts together?”
Luke rubbed a vein pulsing at his temple.
“Dude, takes that long to answer, it means you have to try to remember. If you haven’t asked her for it, you need to ask yourself why. If she hasn’t nagged you for it, might mean she’s getting tickled elsewhere.”
“She’s too proper to do that. Too unimaginative, if I’m frank.”
“Unimaginative or not, she’s the kind of woman who goes after what she wants. And gets it. Who knows that better than you?”
“Still—”
“And to tear you down like she did? To your face and to someone else. When a woman’s loyalty and respect slip for her man, she might let someone else slip it to her.”
Luke glared at him.
James held up his hands. “Just saying.”
Luke propped his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. “I can’t go there.”
“I read something interesting in the Bible the other day.”
Luke peeked at him from between his fingers. “You read the Bible?”
“I’m a well-rounded guy. As I was saying, I read that men are supposed to love their wives as they love themselves, and that wives are supposed to respect their husbands.”
“That’s basic common sense.”
“And part of the problem. People do love others the way they love themselves. How many people do you k
now—besides me—who really love themselves? You don’t love yourself.”
“What’s not to love?”
“I’m serious. You wouldn’t second-guess yourself like you’re doing if you did.”
“I’m really not up for this conversation right now.”
“Up for it or not, it’s gotta happen. We’re talking real life, dude. Maybe a woman doesn’t love her husband all romantic like after they been married a while, but she’s supposed to treat him with respect. Not nag his ass. Man’s gotta feel respected first, loved second. Especially in his own home. That’s just the way it is. She wanted you to marry her. You did. You’re good to her. Brandi ought to treat you like a king.”
“She wants me to contribute more financially. She’s justified in feeling that way. But she knew the situation when we married. It’s not like it was sprung on her after the honeymoon.”
“The woman needs to have a little faith in you. And she needs to stop dissing restaurant service. I’ve been in the biz for years. And I make a damn good living at it.”
“The difference is you’re a manager, soon to be promoted to area director. I wait tables.”
“Customers love you. You’re the only one here who gets a twenty-five percent tip most of the time, and has people willing to wait to sit in your section. You know how many diners call to ask us to save them a table for your section when you’re working? Some don’t even come in unless you’re on shift.”
“I didn’t know anyone did that.”
“All the time, dude. They find you charming and love that a one-day famous author takes care of them.”
“Nice to know someone thinks I fulfill my obligations.”
“What are you going to do about Brandi?”
“The only thing I can. Avoid her as much as possible, until she calms down.”
“Brandi don’t calm down. Unless she gets her way.”
“Then I suppose she’ll have to stay upset, and I’ll have to see about making the basement more comfortable.” Luke groaned. “My luck with women sucks.”