Hating My New Husband

by B. B. Hamel

  I shake my head and walk past him. “Seriously, you stink. Go shower!”

  “Want to shower with me?” he calls after me as I head upstairs.

  “Maybe if you had warned me ahead of time,” I say, smiling to myself.

  I can hear his laughter as I disappear into my room. As soon as I’m alone, the cocky attitude completely dissipates.

  This is it. This is the beginning. We’re going to lie to a federal agent. If we get caught, we’re going to jail.

  He knows it as well as I do. There’s an edge between us right now, and I can see the worry on his face.

  I can’t let that get to me. It’s time to play my role, that’s all this is, just playing any other part.

  Agent Long is very punctual. Typical of a Fed.

  The doorbell rings at exactly ten in the morning. Davis looks at me, a slight frown.

  “Ready?” he asks softly.

  “Ready, honey.” I smile and take his arm. “Let’s go welcome our guest.”

  He grins at me, leans down, and kisses me softly on the lips. It’s an intimate gesture, something a husband would do with his wife. For a second, it startles me.

  “Just getting into character,” he says softly, and does it again.

  This time, I don’t flinch. I let my lips linger, kissing him a third time.

  “Come on,” I say, squeezing his arm.

  We answer the door together. I smile, trying not to let my stress show through, but then again, of course I’m stressed. Even if this were real, I’d be stressed.

  This man has the power to destroy us.

  Agent Long frowns at us. He’s barely taller than me, maybe five foot five at most, nearly a foot shorter than Davis. His hair is dark and slicked back. He’s wearing a dark jacket and pants, a cheap-looking suit that barely fits. He actually looks like a child wearing his father’s clothing.

  It almost makes me want to laugh.

  But his eyes are serious. They’re ice blue, almost harsh. He stares at the two of us, not showing any emotion as he takes a badge from his jacket pocket.

  “Agent Long,” he says, flashing the badge and placing it back into his jacket.

  “Of course, hello, Agent Long,” Davis says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  They shake hands and the man turns his eyes on me. “And you must be Carly.”

  “Hello,” I say. We shake as well. His grip is strong and he doesn’t smile.

  “Shall we?” he asks.

  “Come on in,” I say.

  He looks around as we walk down the hall, making little noises in the back of his throat like he’s judging every little detail. We head into the kitchen.

  “Coffee? Tea?”

  He shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

  “What can we do for you, Agent Long?” Davis asks him. We sit around the kitchen table as Long digs in his bag and pulls out a small rectangle. He hits a button and a red light turns on.

  “This is a recording device,” he says. “I’d like to record our conversation. Do I have your permission?”

  Davis blinks. “Yes,” he says.

  Long looks at me.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “It’s recording already. Now, this is an informal visit, nothing serious. I won’t be drilling you today.” He attempts a smile, but it’s sinister. I wish he wouldn’t bother.

  “Sounds good,” Davis says. “I love getting drilled.” He grins at his stupid joke.

  I sigh. “Sorry. My husband is a little on edge.”

  “Why?” Long asks.

  “Obvious reasons,” I say, gesturing at him. “We have a federal agent investigating our marriage. I think that would put anyone on edge.”

  Agent Long nods sharply. “Yes, that is true. But if your marriage is real then you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Perfect,” I say, smiling at Davis. “Hear that, sweetie?”

  Davis nods. “Loud and clear.”

  Agent Long clears his throat. “I understand you signed a prenuptial agreement,” he says to me suddenly.

  I’m a little taken aback. I glance at Davis, who just smiles a little uncomfortably.

  I sigh. “Yes, that’s true,” I say finally.

  “Why?” Long stares at me.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I ask softly. “I’m not here for his money.”

  “Still, these things, they don’t always last. Rich men get bored, they move on. The wives suffer.” Long shrugs a little, as if what he’s saying is obvious and universal. “The prenup takes away any protections you might have had.”

  I bite my lip. “A risk I was willing to take.”

  He nods. “And you, Mr. King? Why ask her?”

  “Davis,” he says, clearing his throat. “And my lawyers advised it. Ah, when you have as much money as I do, you have to be… careful. You have to protect yourself. And anyway, the prenup allowed a certain settlement for her in the case of a divorce, agreed upon in advance.”

  “That’s right,” Agent Long says. “Three million, if I’m not mistaken?”

  I frown a little, and I hope the agent doesn’t catch it.

  “That’s right,” Davis says. “We agreed it would be more than fair.”

  “Hardly seems fair,” Long says, cocking his head. “Three million won’t keep her in this lifestyle, not by a long shot. Mrs. King, did you think this through?”

  I sit there, stunned. “Why are you asking this?”

  “It’s part of the investigation, ma’am.”

  I take a breath and slowly let it out. “Three million is nothing,” I say softly. “I won’t deny that. I’m not going to pretend like I think it’s some huge settlement. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? I don’t want some settlement waiting for me if I can just divorce him. This is a marriage, Agent Long. I didn’t ask for more, because there isn’t anything else I want.”

  Davis smiles a little. I can see the surprise in his eyes. My tone is angry but serious, and I actually feel a little bit of that anger. How dare Agent Long suggest my fake choice is somehow stupid? He doesn’t know me.

  Long just nods. “Very well. May I look around the house?”

  “Of course,” Davis says quickly.

  We stand and follow the Agent as he looks around. He checks the refrigerators, the cabinets, underneath the couch, between the cushions.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask him, and the man just gives me a look.

  We fall back into silence. I wander next to Davis and take his hand, almost by instinct. I look up into Davis’s eyes, feeling stressed, and he smiles at me. We kiss like we did before we answered the door, and I catch Agent Long looking on with a slight frown.

  We wander the house, and finally he starts upstairs. He heads up the steps, and a thought hits me.

  Holy shit. If he goes into my room…

  My room. Not Davis’s room. Long will realize we’re sleeping in separate bedrooms. The game will be over.

  Shit. Fuck.

  As we head up the steps, Long in the lead, I look at Davis. My eyes are wide. I nod up, hoping he understands.

  He just smiles at me in response.

  Shit. He hasn’t figured it out yet.

  We get to the top of the steps and Long starts down the hall.

  “What are these?” he asks, gesturing at each door.

  “Guest rooms,” Davis says right away.

  I glare at him, and I see his face slowly fall.

  He understands now, the idiot.

  My heart’s hammering fast as Long opens the first door. It’s an empty room, nothing special. He glances around before moving on. The next room is another little office, this one mostly empty aside from books. I think of it as the library.

  We come further down the hall, getting closer to my room. Davis is agitated, clearly fidgeting, trying to figure out what to do. My mind’s reeling.

  “Up there is the bathroom,” Davis says, pointing straight ahead. “We just had it redone.”

  “It’s very nice,�
�� I say quickly.

  Long ignores us. He steps up to my room.

  Fuck. Fuck. All my clothes are out. I’m not exactly a neat person.

  He turns the knob.

  “Hello!”

  We all stop. A woman’s voice comes up from downstairs.

  “Who is that?” Long asks.

  “Davis? Where the fuck are you?”

  “Avah,” Davis says. “That’s my, uh, my…”

  “She’s his coworker,” I say for him.

  Davis nods. “Coworker. Yeah.”

  “Avah Jackson,” Agent Long says. “I’m aware of her.”

  “We’re up here,” Davis calls out.

  “You left your fucking suitcase in customs, you dumbass. Seriously, I bet some…” She trails off as she reaches the top of the landing and stares at the group of us. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Avah, this is Agent Long,” Davis says.

  Long walks over to her and they shake hands. “Nice to meet you,” Avah says.

  “Likewise. We were just taking a little tour.”

  “Oh, you’re getting the tour of Davis’s messy house?” Avah grins.

  “Not messy anymore,” I say. “Not since I moved in.”

  Avah laughs and Davis grins nervously.

  Agent Long doesn’t react.

  “That’s right,” he says. “Are you joining us?”

  “No, no,” she says. “I was just dropping off a suitcase.”

  “Do you often do menial tasks for your employer?” he asks her.

  She looks startled. “Ah, only when he’s forgetful,” she says, and forces a smile.

  Long nods. “Very well.” He looks back at me and Davis. “Shall we continue?”

  “Right. Of course.” Davis walks over. “Thank you, Avah.”

  She nods. “Sure thing. Have, uh… fun.” She hurried back down the stairs.

  “This way, Agent?” Davis motions toward the third floor.

  Long nods and follows him up. My heart skips a fucking beat.

  Holy shit, that was so close.

  The rest of the tour goes easy. Long looks in Davis’s room, but fortunately Davis is much neater than I am. Long doesn’t go through the drawers, so he doesn’t notice that there isn’t any women’s underwear or clothing.

  Long is much more interested in the office. He lingers a while in there, looking at books, frowning at the computer, at the desk. Davis shoots me a look, but I just shrug.

  Finally, Agent Long seems satisfied. We go back downstairs, where a suitcase is leaning against one wall conspicuously. Long glances at it as we pass into the kitchen again.

  He places the recorder down on the table as we sit.

  “I’ve completed the initial inspection,” Long says. “I would like to visit again in one week. Will that be acceptable?”

  “A week?” I ask him. “Is that standard?”

  He hesitates. “In certain cases.”

  “I see,” I say to him, not smiling. “One week feels excessive.”

  “It’s an unusual case, Mrs. King.”

  “Fine,” I say, looking away. I hope my little haughty act feels natural.

  “We’ll do what we need to do,” Davis says.

  “One week then.” Long stands up. “Next time, please, no interruptions.” Long gathers his things and walks to the door without another word.

  We see him out. The man walks down the stoop and hurries away, heading down the block, his head held low as he plows forward.

  We drift back inside and both collapse against one wall.

  “Shit,” I say. “Oh, shit. That was so fucking close.”

  “Avah saved our ass,” he says.

  “I know. Oh my god.”

  “You know what this means, right?”

  I cock my head. “What?”

  “You have to start sleeping in my room.”

  I clench my jaw. “I don’t know about that.”

  “We can’t fake this, Carly. It’s time to go all-in. You heard the agent, he’s coming back in a week.”

  I sigh. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  “Next time, he could look more closely.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “We got lucky.”

  “I know,” I say again.

  “Do you?” He leans toward me, grabbing my hand. “I’m not letting you go to jail because of me,” he says, and I see a fire in his eyes that I didn’t expect. “Do you hear me, Carly? No more fucking around. We’re doing this for real.”

  “Yeah. For real.”

  I stare into his intense eyes and I know there’s something happening. Right here, in this moment, something is shifting. I don’t know what it is, can’t put my finger on it, but some immovable rock in my soul just shifted a few centimeters in a direction I never thought possible.

  He smirks and kisses me softly. “That’s my good wife.”

  I sigh. “Asshole,” I say without conviction, and we head back into the kitchen together to nervously dissect every little detail with a relief I can barely afford to feel.

  12

  Davis

  Carly moves her things into my bedroom that night.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” she says as she drops her suitcase on the floor. “This is just for show.”

  “Right,” I say.

  She starts to unpack, tossing stuff wildly on the floor. I clench my jaw as she messily slings it all over the bed.

  “What are you doing?” I ask after a few minutes of this.

  “I’m unpacking,” she says.

  “You’re a tornado, just throwing shit all over the place.”

  “How else am I supposed to unpack?”

  I sigh and walk over to the dresser. “Here, I cleared out half the drawers for you.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  I stare at her when she doesn’t make a move. “Use them,” I finally say.

  She shrugs. “I could just throw it on the floor in the closet. I mean, that thing’s huge.”

  I glance over at my closet. My freaking perfectly neat closet. Sure, it’s a walk-in that’s the size of a small bedroom, but still. “No,” I say finally.

  “This is our bedroom now,” she croons. “We’re married, remember? What’s mine is yours?”

  I glare at her. “Not funny.”

  “I think it’s hilarious.”

  “Seriously. I’m a neat person, and you’re…”

  “I’m what?” She crosses her arms.

  “You’re dirty.”

  “I am not dirty,” she says firmly. “I’m not neat, but I’m clean.”

  “I don’t see a difference.”

  “All of my stuff is clean. It’s just… not organized.”

  “It’s thrown on the floor in piles. How do you think that’s clean?”

  “It’s not getting dirty. It’s just on the floor.”

  “Getting covered with dust.” I throw my hands up in disgust. “You’re an animal.”

  She laughs, clearly enjoying my distress, and throws a few more things on the floor.

  I can’t take it. I leave the room and head downstairs, grumbling the whole way.

  I pour two glasses of wine. I thought having Carly staying in my room with me would be fun, but I’m already starting to see some issues.

  Seriously, how is she so put together and gorgeous and yet such a damn mess? I got a glimpse into her bathroom earlier and it was filthy.

  If she thinks she can come into my bathroom and wreck it, she has another thing coming. I’m putting my foot down. I draw the line at makeup caking the sink and long girl hairs all over the tub.

  She’s going to clean up after herself. She’s not living alone anymore. I steel myself, sure I’m going to change her mind, as I charge back upstairs with the two glasses of wine.

  She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed when I walk into the room. She looks up, a little surprised, and holds up the book she has in her lap.

  “Our yearbook?” she asks.

  I frown a
little. “Huh. I didn’t know I had that.”

  “It was at the bottom of one of those empty drawers, so you must’ve seen it.”

  I shrug. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  I hand her a glass and she accepts it, sipping it before putting it down on the floor. I wince, but I decide not to say anything.

  I have to pick my battles.

  “It’s weird, looking at this,” she says. “We look so…”

  “Young?”

  “Yeah. And different.”

  “We were different,” I point out.

  “You’re not.”

  I sigh, sipping my drink while I study her for a second.

  “Why do you hate me so much, Carly?”

  She bites her lip and doesn’t say anything at first. I can see her battling with herself, and I wish I could be a part of that internal debate.

  I have some theories about why she hates me. I hooked up with her best friend at one point, which pissed her off. But I don’t understand why that would make her hate me.

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  I shake my head. “I have guesses, but honestly, I don’t think I did anything bad enough for you to despise me.”

  She snorts. “Of course you’d say that.”

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  She glares at me. “My problem?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve been good to you, even though you think I’m such a piece of shit. What’s your deal?”

  She stands up, suddenly angry. “Good to me? You’re using me, Davis. Like you always fucking have.”

  She storms out of the room, knocking over the wine glass as she passes. I curse and grab an old t-shirt from my drawer to clean up the spilled wine before chasing her down.

  “Wait,” I call out. She bursts into the kitchen, throws open the door, and grabs the wine. She pours herself another glass, this time a big one, and gulps half of it down.

  “I’ve never used you in my life,” I tell her, feeling pretty pissed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, you’re using me now, and you know it.”

  “Maybe now, but it’s not like you’re getting nothing in return. I’m paying you, and plus, you’re a big girl.”

  She clenches her jaw. “Fine, okay. Maybe this is partly my fault, too. But back then, you were such a dick.”

  “About what?” I practically yell, my frustration getting the best of me.