Half Empty (First Wives Series Book 2)

by Catherine Bybee

  Trina lifted it up and remembered when she’d picked out the image to print. Very few of the pictures captured her in a relaxed state. Much as she had to be an actress for everyone watching, it wasn’t a job she was good at. But this picture was caught with Fedor whispering in her ear. She still remembered his words. “Just think, everyone in this room is going to have sex tonight except you and me.”

  She had laughed and whispered back, “I knew your mom had something going with Steve.”

  Steve had been Alice’s nurse. While there was no way Steve was doing anything with Alice, Trina had kept the joke going with Fedor and Alice whenever spirits were low. Even Steve played along from time to time.

  The wedding picture in her hand had captured a genuine smile between the both of them. No one would have guessed after seeing the image that their entire wedding and marriage was a farce. They looked the part of a couple in love. Truth was, Trina loved and respected Fedor for everything he had done to make his mother happy in her last days. She meant everything to him, to the point of marrying Trina. Something Alice didn’t think she’d see her son do before she died. It hadn’t been a complete surprise that Fedor couldn’t cope with her imminent death after a stroke left her oblivious of everything around her.

  Still, Trina cussed her dead husband for his choice.

  She’d lost a friend and gained a life she hadn’t wanted with his suicide. Maybe he thought he was doing them all a favor. She’d never know. Fedor hadn’t left a note or ever indicated his desire to die.

  “You know something, Fedor?” she said to the empty room. “You never struck me as a coward. Mama’s boy . . . but for the right reasons. But not a coward.”

  The room screamed its silence.

  “Nothing to say?” she asked again. “I thought so.”

  Trina padded back into her room and closed the door behind her. With the ghost flushed simply by looking beyond the door, she welcomed the warmth of the bed and the quiet of the house.

  Until her phone rang.

  She didn’t recognize the number, and the name for it was written as Wade, You Owe Me A Dance, Thomas.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, little lady.”

  Trina’s heart kicked and her lips spread into a huge grin. “Wade?”

  “Is someone else calling you little lady?”

  “What are you doing?” She chuckled.

  “I’m checking up on you. Thought maybe something had happened, since you haven’t called yet.”

  She tucked her bare feet beneath the covers and pulled her knees into her chest. “I didn’t realize we had a phone date set up.”

  “It was implied.”

  “Well, bad on me, then.”

  He laughed. “Did you survive the inquisition of your friends?”

  “Barely. Did you survive the flight home?”

  “With lots of whiskey.”

  “Oh, you’re traumatized.”

  “I survived by thinking of how calm you were on our flight out of hell and felt the need to man up.”

  “Glad I helped.”

  He paused. “Are you home yet?”

  She looked around the room she once called home. “No. I’m in New York, actually.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve put off dealing with the house here long enough.”

  “Sounds painful. How are you doing with that?”

  She glanced at the closed door. “I’m okay. It’s not the easiest thing I’ve ever done, but it isn’t the hardest either.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  Trina processed his question. “Uhm, ah . . . ,” she stuttered. “Avery is here with me.”

  “The blonde pit bull?”

  Now Trina was laughing. “I’ll be sure and tell her you said that.”

  “Come on, darlin’, I thought we were friends.”

  “She won’t bite.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Yeah, Trina did, too. “She’s protective and apparently my disappearing act brought out her mom gene.”

  “Does she have kids?”

  “No . . . but my guess is when she does, her kids won’t think about crossing her.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  She moved the phone to the other ear. “I have a confession to make.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I might have listened to your latest album today.”

  Wade paused, and when he started talking, she could tell his ego had been stroked. “Might have, or did?”

  “Did. I even recognized a few of the songs.”

  Silence.

  Trina bit her lip.

  “And?”

  She hummed a bit. “It was all right.”

  “All right?” he asked, deadpan.

  Trina tried not to laugh. “Yeah, one of the songs was even pretty good.”

  “One?”

  She giggled in silence.

  “Well, uh . . . I’ll see what I can do about impressing you with my next album.”

  She snorted and gave in to her laughter. “You are so easy.”

  “You’re pulling my chain,” he said.

  “So easy.”

  “You’re the most unusual woman I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “Me either,” he confessed.

  “I like your music, Wade.”

  There was relief in his voice. “Well, thank you, little lady.”

  “Don’t expect me to ask for your autograph the next time I see you.”

  It was Wade’s turn to hum. “So I am going to see you again.”

  “If,” she retracted. “If I see you again.”

  “Oh, no, no, no. You said next time. I’m holding you to it.”

  Her heart warmed. “You’re an insufferable flirt.”

  “And you’re flirting back.”

  “I’m teasing. Not flirting.”

  Wade made a ticking noise on the phone. “Fine line drawn between those two things. If you’re flirting, your cheeks would be rosy and warm.”

  Trina placed the back of her hand to her cheek.

  Oh, shit.

  “They’re warm, aren’t they, Miss Trina?”

  “No,” she lied.

  “Why do I doubt your ability to tell me the truth right now?”

  “Because you’re not a naturally trusting person?”

  “I trust that I have wiggled under your skin enough to make your cheeks warm when you’re talking to me.”

  She ignored her hot face.

  He started to laugh.

  “You’re really full of yourself, Wade Thomas.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But I have a confession to make myself.”

  “Oh?” This she wanted to hear.

  “Yeah, my cheeks are warm right now, too.”

  “Are we done in here?” Avery stood in the center of Fedor’s bedroom, hands on her hips, and looked down on all the boxes they’d managed to pack.

  Trina had decided the best way to flush out his ghost completely was to tackle his personal space and get it out of the way.

  “I think so.” She looked at the stack of suits all tucked into garment bags. “Let’s see if there is something other than the Salvation Army or Goodwill to donate these to. I can’t help but think a college student in need of a good suit would be more appropriate.”

  “Good point. I’ll get online and see what’s out there.”

  She looked at Fedor’s tray of watches, all designer, all expensive. “Suicide prevention,” she said aloud.

  “What?”

  “I need to donate the money earned from the sale of all this to organizations that help prevent suicide.”

  “That sounds very philanthropic of you.”

  Trina thought of the conversation she’d had with Wade about her future. Although the sale of the Hamptons home and all its contents was only one task, it certainly gave her something to occupy her time.

  “It isn’t like I nee
d the money.”

  Avery snorted. “I might.”

  Trina shot a look at her friend. “What?”

  Avery shrugged. “I burned through a million dollars this year.”

  Avery was one year out from her divorce and the five-million-dollar agreement between her and her ex. The money should have set her up for life.

  “A million dollars?”

  “Well, nine hundred and forty-five thousand.”

  “How?”

  Avery sat on the edge of the bed, hands on her knees. “There is the Aston.”

  The fancy car would account for a quarter of the million gone.

  “Okay . . .”

  “I shopped a lot. Shoes, handbags . . . jewelry.”

  “Three quarters of a million dollars’ worth?” Trina couldn’t imagine. And she had more money than God.

  “I shopped in Paris, and London . . . and Rodeo Drive. There might have been a couple of chartered flights.” Avery looked embarrassed.

  “A couple?”

  “Okay, five.”

  “At what, thirty thousand each?”

  Avery glanced at the ceiling. “No, more like twenty K . . . each way.”

  “Two hundred grand on plane tickets.” Trina did the math.

  “Right, not including first-class tickets everywhere else I went. When I wasn’t on Sam’s jet.”

  Trina sat beside Avery on the bed. “Your money isn’t going to last if you keep burning it like that.”

  “I know. I should probably invest some of it.”

  “You should probably invest all of it and put yourself on a budget.”

  Avery winced.

  “Or get a job.” Trina smiled.

  “I like my lifestyle.”

  “Didn’t you say you married Bernie to get your parents off your back and out of your life?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you think is going to happen if you run out of money?”

  Avery leaned her head on Trina’s shoulder. “You’re right. I know. I’ve been living in la-la land for a long time.”

  “Unless you want to shackle yourself to another sugar daddy, this time for real, I suggest you figure it out.”

  “I’m not good at anything other than shopping and spending.”

  “Don’t forget partying and making everyone around you smile,” Trina added.

  Avery lifted her head from Trina’s shoulder. “My marketable skills are zip. I hated school, never really held a job. I’m about as privileged as they come,” she confessed.

  Trina scanned the room full of Fedor’s things. Expensive things. The desire to call a one-stop auction house or estate sale agent was huge. But they would want a big cut, and the money sent to charity would be less. An idea started to form in Trina’s head.

  She stood and crossed to the set of watches collecting dust. She picked up one she couldn’t name and handed it to Avery. “What do you think this is worth?”

  Avery took it, rolled it around in her hands. “It’s an Omega . . . so somewhere between two and three thousand.”

  Seemed like a lot of money for a watch.

  Avery put the watch back and pulled out a different one. “But this, this is a Piaget. You can’t get out of that store for less than twenty grand.” She peered closer. “This has constellations, I’m guessing it’s one of their higher end models.”

  “How high?”

  Avery shook her head. “I have no idea, as much as a hundred grand.”

  Trina squeezed her eyes shut. “For a watch?”

  “Could be. I’ll have to look it up.”

  “It was just sitting in his closet. I’m afraid to look in the safe.”

  “Is there a safe?”

  “Yeah, a couple of them, the biggest one is in his office.”

  “Do you know the combinations?”

  Trina shook her head no.

  Avery looked around the room again. “This place is holding a fortune, not to mention the house itself. You sure you want to give it all away to charity?”

  “Feels like blood money.”

  Avery lost her smile and Trina looked away.

  “You didn’t kill him.”

  Her eyes landed on their wedding picture. “I didn’t save him either.”

  “That wasn’t your job.”

  “I was his wife.”

  “Trina.”

  She placed both hands in the air as if to stop Avery’s words. “I know it was in name only. I’ve still been dealing with that guilt for a year.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty. You didn’t ask for this.”

  Trina squeezed her eyes shut and felt moisture gather. “Fedor started having feelings for me.”

  Avery paused. “Oh, no.”

  Trina’s eyes started to mist. “At first I thought it was just our friendship. We seemed to be able to talk about anything. He was losing his mom, so we talked a lot about that. But he started lingering and looking at me differently.”

  Avery set the watch down and placed a hand on Trina’s shoulder. “Did he say anything?”

  “He started to one night, at dinner. I felt it coming and made a comment about how nice it was to have a male friend who wasn’t trying to make more out of our friendship. He got the hint. Not that it seemed to stop his feelings. If I had let him talk, or maybe tried to feel something more for him . . .”

  “Stop it. This isn’t your fault.”

  “I know that, intellectually. Still doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could have been working through this.”

  Trina started to cry for the man she never loved. “I pushed it out of my head. Coming back here reminded me of all the conversations and little things.”

  “We can close this down and come back another time.”

  Trina shook her head. “No. I need this behind me.” She turned a full circle. “Who knows, maybe there will be something in this house to clue me in to why Fedor did this.”

  “Losing his mom and falling in love with someone who isn’t feeling the same is a strong reason,” Avery pointed out.

  “I know, but Fedor wasn’t that weak. Or at least I didn’t think he was. He was a man who found solutions. Even with his overbearing father.”

  “There is a solution to Ruslan?”

  “Yeah, ignore him.”

  “That didn’t work for us last year.”

  No, it hadn’t. Ruslan had researched Alliance, the company that arranged her and Fedor’s marriage, and went after Lori. Not in a legal way, but by kidnapping her brother and attempting to hold him hostage for proof that their marriage wasn’t completely real. By the time that unfolded, Ruslan’s people were either dead or gone forever, and no ties to Ruslan had been kept intact. Which prevented any legal action against the man. Yet they all knew who was behind it. Since that day, Ruslan had dropped out of the picture. After six months, Trina shook loose the bodyguards and extra protection.

  Fedor’s estate had ended up in the company lap, which Trina said she would manage, and Alice’s estate had ended up in Trina’s bank. None of which Trina had wanted. Ruslan, on the other hand, wanted it all. There simply wasn’t any way he was going to get it. Fedor hated his father, and from what Trina had figured out, the man had abused his wife before they divorced. So Alice and the entire Everson family hated him, too.

  Avery picked up the expensive watch again. “I’m going to look this up and call a locksmith. I’d feel a lot better if all the six-figure stuff was somewhere safe. Just talking about Ruslan makes me feel like he’s outside, listening and ready to try his hand at burglary.”

  “He would never dirty his own hands.”

  “Still.” Avery tossed the watch in the air, caught it. “Hiding stuff in plain sight only works for so long. Once we get appraisers and movers in here, nothing will be hidden.”

  “Let’s figure out what we’re looking at before we hire anyone. Then maybe we should consider a guard.”

>   “Sounds good.” Avery started to leave the room.

  “Oh, one more thing.”

  Avery turned.

  “Five percent, or whatever the going rate is.”

  “Five percent of what going rate?”

  “You need a job, and I need someone to manage all of this and sell it for as much money as we can get. It will be like reverse shopping. Considering you’re the knower of all things high end, I think you’re perfect.”

  Avery used the watch as a pointing stick. “You want me to work for you?”

  “Why hire a stranger when you’re right here and already doing the job?”

  “I don’t know anything about estate sales.”

  “Me either. But I need to learn. When we’re done here, there is Alice’s house in Germany I haven’t even been to.”

  “You’re not going to keep it?”

  Trina shrugged. “I don’t speak German.”

  Avery grinned.

  “It gives us something to do,” Trina said.

  The air in the room felt lighter. “There is a lot here. More than just a closet to go through.”

  Trina agreed. They thought they’d only be there for a long weekend, but when you found a watch worth a hundred thousand dollars sitting in a drawer with a dozen of its brothers, the job became bigger.

  “Five percent?”

  “Or whatever the going rate is.”

  Avery smiled. “You’re on. But if I screw up, or don’t know something . . .”

  “I would have guessed that watch to be a few hundred bucks. Probably sold it for thirty.”

  “Got it. The bar is set low for messing up.”

  “Go, find a locksmith. One that isn’t named Guido.”

  Avery turned and left the room. “On it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The ranch had a state-of-the-art recording studio that sat separate from the main house. It made life easier when Wade wanted to work. No need to head into Austin, or even Houston, where he’d have to deal with hotels and fans. Right now was time for rest, reflection, and living. Although he wasn’t sure what rest looked like.

  He turned on the lights and walked past all the expensive recording equipment and into the studio he would eventually sit in completely alone to record.

  Half a dozen guitars lined the wall.

  A smile crept onto his lips. He remembered his first six string and sitting in the senior quad at his high school, writing his first song. The instrument was an extension of his fingertips. Or so he’d been told the first time he’d shared his music. It was like he was born to it. Considering he’d never taken lessons to play the thing, he couldn’t argue.