THE GREAT PRETENDER

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THE GREAT PRETENDER Page 17

by Millenia Black


  In the end, no one but her mom would ever know. Telling her mother was the same as telling no one at all. Of course, Tracy would more than likely talk it over with Olivia’s grandmother, Beverly, but that was a given.

  Olivia clipped the papers back onto the clipboard, returned them to the receptionist, and picked up a pamphlet near the window that read PREGNANCY OPTIONS.

  Once she had returned to her seat, Tracy adjusted the lapels on her coat and reached for a copy of People magazine.

  They were both deeply engrossed in their reading material by the time the nurse opened the door, calling Olivia’s name. Replacing the pamphlet, Olivia unconsciously took a deep breath and followed the nurse down a long corridor where she was weighed, had her blood pressure checked, and her temperature taken.

  Outside in the waiting area, Tracy sent prayers to heaven. She asked for forgiveness for encouraging her daughter to kill her first child. She prayed that Olivia be all right when this was all over. She realized that the removal of the baby didn’t mean the removal of the problem as a whole—not by a long shot.

  •

  “I think we should go to New York,” Tracy said that evening as they were jogging around the block. When Reginald was in town and the weather permitted, they liked to go running in the evening at sundown.

  Reggie looked over at her. “Why New York? I was thinking the Caribbean—you know, Jamaica or Saint Thomas…something tropical. And much more romantic than New York! ”

  Tracy laughed. “Oh, please! You can create romance anywhere. Besides, we haven’t seen Mervena in over a year, not to mention all the shopping I can do in Manhattan.”

  “How come your family never comes to Florida? Whenever we see them, it’s always on our dime. Mervena’s never even been to Florida, has she?”

  “No, she hasn’t, but don’t get technical, Reggie. That’s just a ploy because you don’t wanna go to New York—and we both know it.”

  Reginald grinned. He did not want to go to New York. He wanted to go to the tropics, where they could rent a lavish bungalow on the beach, make love in the Jacuzzi, laze around in the shade, and dance in the nightclubs. He just wanted to be alone with his wife and try as best he could to put distance between the present and the turmoil of recent years.

  “Regg, can’t we go just for a few days? We can always go to the Caribbean afterward and take the girls, can’t we? Hey, slow down. I’m beat.” Tracy slowed to a jog and wiped her forehead with her towel.

  “Yeah, I suppose we could do that,” said Reggie, reducing his speed. “What are the odds of Olivia coming with us?”

  “Not good,” said Tracy heavily. “You know, today in the doctor’s office, I prayed for so many things. I prayed that nothing would go wrong in there. I prayed she would get over this Sean idiot. I really prayed that she wouldn’t live to regret aborting the baby. And most of all”—Tracy breathed deeply as she jogged—“most of all, I prayed that she would get over this wall where you’re concerned. It just breaks my heart, Reggie.”

  “Well, you know that it bothers me, too. I haven’t been able to think about anything else since I got home—” Reggie was interrupted when their neighbors, the Ledfords, drove past, calling out to them. “Hey, did you remember to send a get-well basket or something over for the grandmother?”

  “Of course. Don’t you remember I told you Olivia and I dropped it off one evening?”

  “You did? Hell, I don’t remember. I guess my mind’s been too cluttered.”

  “Yeah, we took it over weeks ago. Mrs. Ledford’s doing much better now, by the way. I think she only spent a few days in the hospital, at most. But, anyway, back to this trip…I think we’d better just leave Olivia alone for the time being. If she doesn’t want to come, leave her alone. Let’s hope she’ll realize that she’s just wasting energy, you know?”

  “Yeah, I suppose. But, I don’t like it, Tracy. I don’t like it one bit. I think the time’s coming when I’m going to have to sit her down and force her to hash it out. The bottom line is, I am her father. She can’t go on ignoring me forever.”

  They slowed to a brisk walk then, making their way back to the house, reminiscing about years past, when Olivia and Valerie were children and so much easier to control.

  And for a moment—albeit a brief moment—it was as if Reginald had never been to Orlando.

  •

  When they got back into the house, Tracy jogged straight into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. The phone rang just as she tossed one to Reggie, where he sat on a barstool. She moved to glance at the caller ID box in the stationary nook.

  “Hello?” Tracy said before taking a drink of the cold water. She heard dead air. “Hello?” she said again. Then the line was suddenly disconnected.

  “What did the ID say?” asked Reggie when she shrugged and replaced the receiver.

  “Out of area…It’s probably one of those credit card companies again, or some place like that. Come on, let’s go get a shower before dinner.”

  The phone rang again before they made it to the stairs. “I’ll get it. You go on up.” Tracy went back into the kitchen and quickly glanced at the caller ID. Once again it read OUT OF AREA. “Hello?”

  She heard someone briefly clear her throat and then say, “Hi, can I speak to Reginald Brooks, please?”

  “Sure. May I tell him who’s calling?” Tracy rolled her eyes as she took another sip of water, thinking, I knew it was just another damn card company selling something.

  “Yes, my name is Renee Jameson.”

  “Uh…Renee Jameson of…” She waited for the name of the creditor.

  “I don’t think I follow.”

  “Ms. Jameson, what company do you represent?” Tracy was losing patience. She was hot and sticky and needed a shower. She didn’t want to be bothered with these pesky solicitors.

  “I don’t represent any company.”

  The tone in the woman’s voice brought Tracy’s hand to a halt as she was about to take another sip of water. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I mistook you for a telemarketer. Forgive me. What did you say your name was again?”

  “Jameson. Renee Jameson.”

  “Could you hold, Ms. Jameson? I’ll see if Reginald’s available.” Placing the call on hold, Tracy jogged up the stairs to the bedroom.

  •

  She found Reggie in the bathroom with the tweezers. He was pulling the few gray strands that had invaded his head of dark hair. She made eye contact with him in the large mirror. “The phone is for you.”

  “Yeah? Who is it? Can I call back?” He examined his hairline for other grays.

  “I guess you can. It’s a woman named Renee Jameson.”

  It would later occur to Reginald that if he had just had some kind of warning, a hint or a premonition of some sort, he may have been able to hide his shock at hearing Renee’s name come out of Tracy’s mouth.

  Unfortunately, he was caught completely off guard, and Tracy saw the shock register in his eyes before the tweezers hit the marble sink—and most importantly, before he could recover.

  Slowly, Reggie picked up the tweezers and resumed his inspection. “Tell her I’ll return the call from the office in the morning.”

  “Sure.” Tracy went into the bedroom and picked up the receiver. “Hello, are you still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Reginald says he’ll call you back tomorrow morning from the office.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. Thank you.”

  Replacing the receiver, Tracy closed her eyes.

  She felt a strange fluttering sensation in her stomach. If she questioned Reginald about the call, it would surely mark the end of the incredible relationship they had begun rebuilding.

  Besides, who was she to cast the first stone? Had she herself not been living in a glass house?

  Chapter 21

  Dana Petrel inconspicuously observed her boss as he dictated details regarding a trip he and his wife, Tracy, would be taking to New York. She
noted no difference in his appearance this morning. He wore a perfectly fitted suit with a blue tie and the usual cuff links.

  Dana knew, priding herself on being an extremely good judge of character, that Reginald Brooks was an impeccable businessman. He wanted no detail missed or overlooked. All of his instructions had to be followed to the letter; all bases had to be covered. She admired those qualities in Mr. Brooks. In fact, she admired them more than she had ever admitted.

  From the day she was hired, she’d found it difficult to keep her attraction to her boss under wraps. He was a dreamboat, one of the most magnificent-looking men on the planet. If he had ever asked her out, she would’ve quit the next day in favor of dating him. Alas, he had never asked her out.

  Over the years, Dana had learned that following his lead was the best way to keep the atmosphere calm and serene at Hart-Roman. She had also learned that it was a sure way to make herself indispensible.

  As such, she was careful not to appear too observant of her boss’s demeanor this morning, so she half observed, half listened to his instructions. He wanted round-trip, first-class tickets, a suite at the Plaza Hotel, tickets to a Broadway musical, and a rental car awaiting them at the airport. As she scribbled the information down, Dana tried to pinpoint what it was that disturbed her today about her boss. Was it a professional issue, or was it a personal one? She watched him for a few more minutes and decided—personal.

  To anyone who didn’t know him well, the troubled tone of his voice would’ve gone unnoticed. The extra effort that it took for him to remain focused on what he was saying would have been overlooked. But Dana knew him well. She knew him well enough to know that on this morning, there was trouble.

  •

  Once Dana had left his office and closed the door, Reggie tapped his pen on the desk and took a deep breath. It would do no good to explode on Renee.

  Just as he reached for the telephone to call her, Dana buzzed him with a client on the line. He spent more than fifteen minutes pacifying the gentleman on a matter of miscommunication, then proceeded to place his call to Renee. She answered on the second ring.

  “Hello, Renee.”

  “Reggie! I’ve been worried sick,” she said with exasperation.

  “Renee, you cannot call me at home. Are you crazy? How did you get that number?” Reginald rose from his seat and faced the window. He commended himself for remaining calm.

  “Home?” Renee paused. “At home?” She hesitated before saying, “You say that as though you live there.”

  “Well, I’ve been staying there for the past few…for a while. You know, for Valerie’s sake.” The lies weren’t coming as easily as they used to. “Anyway, it’s nothing for you to worry about. I sleep in a spare bedroom. Why did you call there?”

  “I told you, I’ve been worried! I’ve left several messages on your cell phone and at your hotel, and we haven’t heard from you in a while, Reggie. Why haven’t you called? What’s going on? How’s Valerie doing?”

  “Well, she’s been…she’s been hanging in there.” The words were like sawdust in his mouth. “How’s everything there? Denise okay?”

  “Yes, she’s fine. Everything’s fine. All we need here is you. So, you still have no idea when you can get away for a visit?” Her voice was desperate.

  “Oh, I wish I could get away right now, but I can’t. Between work and keeping my focus on this whole situation, I’m stuck for a while.”

  “I miss you! God, I miss you so much. We both do.”

  “I miss you guys, too.” Reggie sat back in his chair and sighed. “I tell you what…I’ll try my best to get up there in the next few weeks. But it’ll have to be a very brief trip, okay? And, Renee, please don’t call the house again. If you need me, call the cell phone, and I promise I’ll call you back as soon as I can. It won’t do for Tracy to find out about us. Do you understand that if she knows, she’ll hang me out to dry when we split up?”

  “Yes, I do understand about that, Reggie. I promise I do. I’m sorry. I just need to hear from you and know that everything’s okay? Promise you’ll call me everyday?”

  “I promise. I’ll make it a priority, since I know you’re so worried, all right? Now you kiss my little girl for me and tell her Daddy loves her.”

  “I will. I love you, Reggie.”

  “Me too. Bye.”

  Reginald hung up and laid his head on his desk. He felt sick.

  Something has to give.

  •

  Miles away in Orlando, Renee squeezed her eyes shut and blindly placed the phone in its cradle. She remembered the sound of his wife’s voice. Confident. Self-assured. And very, very comfortable.

  Renee wondered about the current Mrs. Brooks. How did she feel about Reginald? Did she want to save her marriage? Did she want Reggie back? Did she think that having him in the house would bring them closer together? What was her story?

  •

  The following evening, Reginald invited Franklin over for dinner, and when he arrived, Tracy was prepared. She was making peace with the fact that they were both bound by this massive, deceitful secret. After all, Frank had always been a constant in their lives, even before the girls came along. She couldn’t very well throw a tantrum whenever his name was mentioned, could she? So Tracy fought to accept the reality, and whenever guilt threatened to consume her, she recited the serenity prayer: “Lord, help me to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

  It seemed to be working.

  She could not change the fact that she’d had an affair with her husband’s closest friend. She couldn’t change the fact that Reggie had taken that assignment in Orlando and had been gone as much as he’d been at home. She also couldn’t change the fact that he had obviously met a woman.

  A woman? Or several women?

  It didn’t matter. He was here now, they were together, and they both had absolute control over what happened in their marriage going forward.

  Sure, they had almost lost their way—at least she knew she had almost lost her way—but they were getting back on track now. This reasoning enabled her to behave more and more naturally in Franklin’s presence. At least she’d stopped cringing at the mere mention of his name.

  •

  That night, she managed to convince Olivia to come down for dinner. Tracy was not sure if it was the coaxing that did the trick, or the fact that Olivia would have a chance to observe her mother and her Uncle Franklin in the same room together with her father. Whatever the reason, she had agreed to join them.

  Now, as they all chatted easily and passed bowls and saucers around the table, Tracy felt as close to normal as she could under the circumstances.

  “So, Liv, how’s school coming along?” asked Frank around a mouthful of mash potatoes. “How’d that Marjory Stoneman Douglas paper turn out?”

  Tracy saw Reginald flinch.

  Olivia smiled as she told about the ups and downs of writing about a woman as intriguing as Stoneman Douglas. “Yep, I learned a lot about her. I even learned that she stopped having sex at, like, twenty-three years old or something like that.”

  “What?” Valerie joined in. “How old was she when she died?”

  “She was in her eighties, I think.”

  “What? Gosh! That’s, like, sixty years!”

  •

  After dinner, they all hung out around the pool, talking until Olivia announced that she was going inside.

  “Hey, I’m gonna head home now, too,” Frank said. He moved to throw his empty Budweiser can in the trash. “Why don’t you walk me to the car and tell me more about this house hunting you’re doing? I know some good Realtors, if you need one.”

  Olivia’s eyes brightened, as she said, “No, I’ve already found a place, Uncle Frank. It’s in Weston.”

  “Weston?” This from Valerie and Tracy.

  “Weston’s so far north, in Broward County. Why so far?” asked Tracy.

  “That�
��s where I found the best deal. You’ll love it as much as I love it! It’s great. Just wait until you see it at closing.”

  Then Frank and Olivia left the pool area, chatting, with Valerie trailing behind.

  Reginald turned to Tracy. "Well, I guess she’ll really be out of the nest soon, huh?”

  She stepped into his arms, and they held each other.

  Chapter 22

  Roger Roman downed the last of his bourbon and returned to the bar for a refill.

  “How come I didn’t see this coming? Am I getting that goddamn old?” He paused. “Honey, you can’t be serious. A divorce? You want a divorce? For God’s sake, why?”

  Justine sipped her own cognac and said indifferently, “Roger, really. We’ve been drifting apart for years. You’re never home anymore, and when you are, all we seem to do is gossip about other people or butt heads about issues that are of no real consequence. Let’s face it, our marriage died years ago.” A mental bell sounded then, reminding her of her shrink’s recommendations. Though she respected the good doctor’s counsel, this was one point upon which she could not take his advice.

  She would never allow Roger to see her pain.

  For the past two weeks, she had had several appointments with Dr. Berenger. The sessions proved to be most advantageous. Everything was in the right perspective now. She no longer had thoughts of ending her life to stop the pain and humiliation. Her future looked bigger and brighter than it had in years. All she had to do now was teach this manipulative asshole a lesson. And it would be a painful lesson, one he would not soon forget.

  Roger moved toward the chaise that she occupied, attempting to touch her.

 

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