by Marnie Cate
"You're too good to me, Jeremy." I placed the plate of food I made before him.
"This looks great." He cut into the steak I cooked to perfection.
"I just want to make you happy, Jeremy." I cut off a piece of meat from my plate and chewed.
"Just keep being sexy, babe, and keep that smokin’ hot bod to make everyone envious and we’ll be fine. You're going to have to work double time to keep looking so hot." He grinned, and then took another bite of his meal. "If not, your cooking might be reason enough to keep you around."
I should have left then. My head screamed, Run. It is not worth this. Start again on your own.
I couldn't run away. I accepted this life. It wasn't all bad. I had a beautiful house, no money worries, and he was a very giving lover. I would accept this life and pretend I believed his promises, because I had a plan of my own. I would be his happy housewife because, in the end, he was right – he would never hurt me again.
Everything went back to normal. He returned my credit cards. He even increased my allowance and talked about all of the vacations he wanted to take me on. Jeremy pretended nothing had happened. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was before and I promised I would do my best to make him happy. But, this time, I would be smarter.
Twenty
Thomas was disappointed I was going back to Jeremy. A month after I returned, I lied and told Thomas I was going to leave Jeremy, but I needed to secure my future. He was key to the first part of my plan.
Step One – secure a good job.
Thomas was ecstatic I had ‘come to my senses’ and was leaving that ‘son of a bitch’. When I left Jeremy, I would be added on full-time with benefits. Thomas promptly sent me several manuscripts to work on. We agreed I would not be put back on the payroll until after the divorce. In the meantime, we kept our original payment agreement. He assured me my first year of paychecks would reflect the bonuses I earned while I was still with Jeremy.
It was easy keeping my job a secret. I had plenty of time in my day to edit and still take care of everything Jeremy expected. One of the perks of my editing job was meeting interesting authors with even more interesting backgrounds. One of the first authors I worked with was Jack Winter.
I edited his books before my marriage, and after. Jack seemed to still have dozens more on the back burner. Jack wrote 007 type thrillers, but edgier. His detailed novels came from years of undercover work as an FBI Secret Service agent. After my first edit of his latest work, he was so thrilled he said he owed me one.
I greedily took Jack up on his offer. He once told me his specialty had been surveillance. With nothing to lose, I told him my story and asked if he could find out how much of a cheat Jeremy really was. He agreed to help me.
After a month, he called and asked to meet with me to talk about my issue. He picked a place in West Hollywood.
I had the driver bring me to one of the boutiques on Rodeo drive. Walking into the store, I called a cab. By the time I entered the store, grabbed the first thing off the rack I knew would fit, purchased it, and left, the cabbie was waiting.
When I arrived at the restaurant, my heart was hammering. Is this what Jeremy feels like when he meets them? You're not doing anything wrong. This is not the same.
"Caitlyn?" Jack asked, standing and holding out his hand. "So nice to meet you in person. I won't lie. I was expecting a librarian, not a model."
I gave him my most charming smile. "You flatter me, Mr. Winter."
He was not the only one taken back. Jack was in his late forties. His salt-and-pepper hair was fashionably styled, and he wore a sharp fitted navy blue suit with a silver tie. If only I wasn't married.
He distracted me from my indecent thoughts by pulling out my chair. Handsome and a gentleman?
Sitting across from me, his face turned serious. He slid an envelope to me. "Please, call me Jack. I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. Caitlyn, I don't think you want to see this."
He was right. I didn't want to see it. I had to see it.
"There is no need to hide the truth from me. There is no fairytale expected. I know you want tell me my husband is not a womanizer, that I am his one and only. Let me guess…this holds a picture of a big breasted blonde who is either giving or receiving pleasure, right?"
His face paled. "He’s really hurt you, hasn't he?"
I placed my hand on his, "Sweet Jack, I'm not hurt or even jaded. I’m being real. I feel liberated. You’ve done me a great favor. Now, shall we eat? My treat?"
"Are you ready to order?" The waiter appeared as if on cue.
"What are you drinking?" I pointed at Jack's drink.
"Scotch on the rocks."
"Perfect, make mine a double. And I want a steak. Rare. And mashed potatoes." Food Jeremy would shame me for eating.
Jack stared at me in surprise. "I'll take the same. The lady seems to know what she wants."
Jack and I ate our meal. We had such pleasant conversation despite the circumstances. We talked for hours.
We discussed my life before Jeremy and my plans for the future. Jack was interested in why I became an editor and how I ended up in L.A. The time passed by too quickly.
"Would you like to order any dessert tonight," the waiter proposed.
"You need to try their chocolate cake. It’s out of this world," Jack insisted.
"Oh, I couldn't," I resisted.
"Bring us the cake. We can share," Jack said with a wink.
Jack had been right. It was the best chocolate cake I ever ate. I wasn't sure if it was the rich chocolate with the sweet cherry drizzle or the fact he fed me my first bite. As the fork slid from my lips, our eyes never left each other's.
"What did I tell you? Worth the calories?" Jack smiled and took a big bite. Handing me a fork, he said, "Go on. Help me finish it, Caitlyn."
There was something about him that excited me. He seemed so formal, but there was a hint of danger. I had edited his books. How many of the steamy scenes were real life events versus his fantastic imagination. Did he think the same thing about my edits?
For some reason, I wanted to find out more. It wasn't wrong, right? I was divorcing Jeremy. What would be wrong with having a little bit of fun myself?
You aren't that girl, Caitlyn. Eat your cake and say your goodbyes. Yes, the little voice in my head was a damn buzz kill.
After we finished up, Jack insisted on paying the bill. Instead of calling a cab, he asserted he would drive me back to Rodeo. I was enjoying his company so much I couldn't resist. Jack surprised me when a silver Mercedes pulled up with a driver.
Settled in the luxurious back seat, Jack slid in next to me. "Don't mind Patrick. He’s discreet, if nothing else. Are you going to open the envelope? It might be better to do it when you’re not alone."
I had been holding the manila envelope on my lap since we left the restaurant. Nervously, I peeled back the clasps and slid the photos out. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to breathe.
It was worse than I ever imagined. Three dozen photos of my husband with various women in a variety of sexual positions lay in my hands. Three months of infidelity before me. He had been busy.
The most upsetting was a photo of him with one of the blondes on his desk in my condo. He had been brazen enough to bring a woman into my home and have sex with her. Where was I? Was I in the house at the time?
Angrily, I flipped through the rest of the photos. My stomach tightened. How many nights had he made love to me after being with these women?
Jeremy definitely had a type – oversized breasts with a vacant look of unintelligence. All of them dressed in outfits he chose. I knew this because I had a closet full of the same kind, which he had chosen for me. In my case, wearing the whorish clothing meant I was 'Mrs. Whitaker.’ So, what did the other girls get out of it, except for the jewelry?
I slipped the images back into the envelope and sighed. I'll not cry.
"I am sorry…" Jack started to say before I interrupted.
"No, I knew it was happening. There is a blonde in there that keeps reappearing. Do you have her name?" I asked coldly.
"I do." Jack reached inside his jacket and withdrew an envelope. He opened it and pulled out a slip of paper. The white paper had neat handwriting on it that read: Ginger Sky. Cocktail Waitress at Sonny's Playhouse. Twenty-one. No family to speak of. Condo on Grand.
"You're kidding me right? She lives two blocks from my house. How can a cocktail waitress...?" I didn't need to finish my question. He didn't need to tell me the answer. Jeremy must be paying her rent.
When we arrived at the boutique, I was shaking. "Can we drive a bit more? I’m not ready to go home yet."
"Patrick, take us on a tour. The lady is new in town," he said, winking at me.
Patrick looked at us in the mirror and nodded.
Slipping the paper back in the envelope, I forced a smile. "Thank you."
"You’ll be better off without him, Caitlyn. Do you have a good attorney?" Jack asked. His silver eyes were so sincere.
I reached over and touched his hand. The feel of his skin sent a chill through me, which only added to the warmth building inside me. I let my hand slip onto his leg, leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "You didn't let me pay for dinner. How can I ever pay you back for all you’ve done?"
"You don't owe me or anyone else a damn thing." He cupped my face gently. His eyes shone with a silver spark of anger.
My mind left my body. I leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't the old Cailtyn trying to dominate. I wanted to feel alive and desired. I was not a leftover to be discarded.
At first, I felt his hesitation, but he relented, and pulled me into his arms, kissing me back. He tasted sweet, like the cake we had just shared. With my senses heightened, I inhaled his musky cologne.
His kiss was like none I had ever shared before. It was a long, slow kiss. He didn't jam his tongue down my throat. Instead, it was tender and loving. It was the kind of kiss you saw in the old movies…the kind I always dreamed of. The fire I felt made the feelings I shared with Jeremy feel juvenile.
Sliding onto his lap, I pressed myself against him. His hardness pushed against me as I began to kiss his neck. When I returned to his mouth, he stroked his hands along my back. He broke away, and then trailed his lips down my décolletage.
I reached down to unbuckle his belt. The ache in me was building, and I wanted Jack. Now. No feeling of shame, just sweet release. He held my hand, stopping me, and gently slid me off of him.
My heart was beating uncontrollably. "Why did you stop me? Don’t you think I’m sexy enough, like all of Jeremy's whores? I know you want this, too."
"It is not that, Caitlyn. I want nothing more than to whisk you off to my bed and make love to you for hours. We could have a quick one, right now, but you know this is wrong. The time isn’t right. This isn't you. This isn't what you want," he said softly. "You’re better than him, Caitlyn. You would regret these ten minutes of desire for the rest of your life."
He was right. I was better than Jeremy. I shifted back to my seat and we rode in silence. After a few minutes, he reached over and put his hand on mine. The small touch, the small act of tenderness filled my heart more than what I had almost tempted him to do. Tears fell from my eyes.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a monogramed white handkerchief. "Here. This is clean."
When he dropped me off at the boutique, I kissed him on the cheek and crushed the handkerchief into his hand. "Thank you, again…for everything."
"If you need anything, Caitlyn…anything, you let me know." He handed the white linen back to me. "Keep it. I have others."
My heart fell as I left the company of a real man, knowing I would soon be back to pretending I was the perfect wife to someone who didn't deserve me. The only consolation I had was the tools I needed, which Jack had armed me with. I was more confident than ever that I would be able to bring Jeremy down.
I hid the envelope of Jeremy's indiscretions and the handkerchief with the manuscripts I was editing. Jeremy's demands that I always dressed in the latest fashions ensured I had a walk-in closet of my own. He never went in there. Just in case, I made sure to hide everything deep in the back, behind the rows of clothing.
Seeing the pictures had confirmed what I already knew; we were over. There was no chance of saving us. I wanted revenge, but my plan had changed. Oh, I was still leaving Jeremy, but now, I had a new task.
Step one had been ensuring my financial future was secure. In addition to my own income, I made it a point to hide every last dime I could get out of Jeremy's excessive grocery allowance. I found ways to cut corners. He couldn't tell I bought discount chicken or store brand products. As long as I was careful to hide the evidence, he would never find out.
Jeremy's favorite scotch was not reordered. Instead, it was magically refilled with a cheaper, less expensive brand. As long as the bottle held the impressive name, Jeremy never noticed. He held the glass, letting the ice cubes melt most of the time. I doubted he really knew what a good scotch should taste like.
The same plight fell upon his designer shampoo, protein powder, coffee, and cologne. All were refilled with a lesser priced version. Anything I could swap out was changed.
The same applied to my clothing allowance. Second hand clothing came home with expensive tags. One of the easiest ways to have Jeremy hand over cash was for me to talk about cosmetic issues. Jeremy thought my endless Botox and facials kept my face young and new.
Over the eight months since I went back to him, I squirreled away almost half a million dollars. Neat hundred dollar bills were bundled and stacked in shoe boxes. I was nervous, at first, the penthouse would burn down, but I couldn't risk putting the money I earned into a bank.
I justified every dime I hid. Every time we had sex, every meal I made, every event I attended as his date, I considered it a job with a payment due. He never went without, so I didn’t feel any guilt.
He wasted money on his mistresses. Ginger was set up. I had to worry about me. With that decision, Step Two would shake up his world.
It was time to meet the mistress.
I had to ask Jack for one last favor. I needed to know Ginger's schedule. I knew it was wrong to reach out to him again, but I needed his help. After hanging up the call, I felt confused. I would have loved to meet him again and explore the feelings he ignited in me, but I knew he would never let anything blossom. He was not the type of man to pick up a rebound.
Jack: 8:00 AM The Original Gym. Treadmill 30 minutes. 7 days a week.
Caitlyn: After?
Jack: Varies.
Caitlyn: Jeremy?
His normal immediate response to me was silent. Five minutes passed before I decided I couldn't wait for his answer.
Caitlyn: Come on, Winter. I know he’s with her still.
Jack: This week he goes to her at 9:30 AM. Leaves around 11:00 AM
Caitlyn: I hate him. Thx for being honest. Can you keep tabs 1 more wk?
Jack: Don't get hurt.
Caitlyn: Too late
Twenty-one
Ginger stuck to her schedule for the next two weeks. When I was ready to make my move, I asked Thomas' partner, Jacob, to help me create a new image. He was delighted by the idea.
Jacob was a makeup artist who specialized in realistic prosthetics. We had what he called ‘a Caitlyn makeover party’, where he tested out so many different new ‘Caitlyns’. Over many hours and bottles of champagne, we finally settled on an Auburn wig, fake eyelashes, blue contact lenses, and an altered nose. By the time he was done with me, even Jeremy wouldn't have recognized me.
Dressed in a workout outfit, I arrived at the gym Ginger frequented twenty minutes before her arrival. Jack told me which machine she always used, and I chose the one next to it. When Ginger arrived, she gave me a smile and hopped on the treadmill. At the end of her thirty minutes, we smiled at each other again, and then she left to the weight room.
I stayed on the tread
mill another twenty minutes, fuming. I watched her leave, and had the urge to follow and confront her. Patience. Four months, then you’re free. This was the day my countdown started. I was leaving soon and there would be no stopping me.
The second day, I was running when she joined me. She smiled brightly, and said, "You’re back. It is so nice to see a familiar face."
I smiled at her, but kept running. After her time was up, she said, "I hope to see you tomorrow."
The next few days were the same. She greeted me, and I smiled. By day seven, I was antsy. I wanted to end this ruse. This time, when she arrived, I was ready.
"I was hoping you would show up," I said. "It is nice to have company."
"Isn't it!" she said, way too excited by my attention. "My name is Ginger. What's yours?"
"Justice. My father was a lawyer." I copied her same perky tone.
"Nice. I love this song. Don't you?" Ginger babbled the entire time we ran. She continued past her thirty minutes, and then squeaked when she realized the time. "Eek, I am going to be late. I guess my boyfriend will just have to shower with me today."
Forcing a giggle, I said, "I bet he will hate that."
Instead of her getting ready, she grabbed her bag and hustled towards the door.
"See you tomorrow, Ginger," I called after her.
That evening, when Jeremy came home, I made a fantastic meal. A green salad with colorful veggies and a balsamic drizzle. His favorite pasta dish, with homemade bread sticks.
"Babe, you out did yourself," Jeremy crowed as he filled himself. "You’re too good to me."
"I hope you saved room for dessert. I made your favorite."
He beamed when I carried out the desserts. I made two personal chocolate soufflé’s. One with a special chocolate that was used to help with constipation and one made from a fine chocolate. One had a raspberry sauce. One had a cherry drizzle. Yes, like the one I shared with Jack. Guess which one I gave Jeremy.