Dishonor Thy Wife

by Belinda Austin

  The ringer was persistent and each ring of the bell caused my head to pound. “Coming,” I finally yelled.

  Who the hell is it? I tucked my shirt into my pants and staggered to the door. I did not invite anyone over, ever. “Leave me in peace. Just go away.” I rubbed my forehead against the door, begging the intruder to, “Please go. Quit ringing the bell. You’re driving me crazy!”

  Shit! It was probably my buddies come over to cheer me up again by bringing women over. Last Friday night was a fiasco. I woke up in bed the next morning between two floozies with no recollection of what happened. The women both smiled at me and even given all I had been through, and put others through, and the exhaustion, and the booze, I had still been able to perform admirably. The bottom half of my body was definitely alive.

  Whoever was ringing the doorbell was part bulldog.

  Probably a damn salesman or Jehovah Witnesses, I thought and flung the front door wide open.

  “Ronni?” She came to me, traveled all the way from Austin to find me because she missed me. My heart that I believed dead began to beat and a healthy color returned to my skin until she squeaked, “Brad, you’re alive! You have been hiding in Canada and faked your own death? How? Oh!”

  She swayed on her feet and her face drained of color. She was about to faint so I reached out my arms and caught her.

  I carried her over to the den, gently spreading her on my couch so she was comfortable with a pillow tucked under her head.

  I sat down next to her with one arm leaning against the back of the couch and my hip touching her waist. I no longer felt drunk or tired and my entire being pumped with the excitement of her. Alive! And all because of her. Her. Her.

  She fluttered her eyes open. Her eyes were dull, like there was no life inside.

  She peeked a look at me through her fingers and then sat up and screamed.

  “I’m sorry, Ronni,” I quickly said because fear was returning to her pale face that she was looking at her husband’s ghost. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I am not Brad. Your husband is dead.”

  “You’re Jayden Tremblay,” she said, and pushed herself into the couch.

  “I’m Brad’s identical twin brother.”

  She reached back her hand and slapped me hard.

  “I deserved that.”

  She knew, she knew. Recognition dawned in her eyes. She recognized me and I felt exhilarated because this meant there was no need to explain because she knew everything, except that I murdered her husband.

  And she looked as if she wanted to cut my head off!

  “You’re the man from the picture in Brad’s pocket. He lied about a computer trick to place two Brads in the photo. You and Brad played a trick on me. You’re Brad number two, the kind, sensitive, loving Brad, the missing link between Brad number one, my hard uncaring husband of six years and Brad number three, the insane murderer.”

  I cringed at the words, insane murderer, realizing she did deserve an explanation. I paced while telling her about how we met in Philadelphia, as if talking about a medical experiment gone bad. “I’m different than Brad,” I said defensively.

  “You fooled me into thinking you were Brad in order to sleep with me. No, you raped me. Ignorance is not submissiveness. Having sex under false pretenses has got to be rape!” She jumped from the couch, clenching her fists.

  “Well, you moaned and groaned under me, lady, so there’s a glitch in your rape theory. You wanted me badly. You writhed in my arms as if I was the drug you craved. You opened you legs and invited me in whether you want to admit it or not.”

  She turned beet red. “Was the joke worth it?” she said in a choked voice.

  “Ronni, the masquerade started out as funny but believe me, the charade lasted longer because of you.”

  “Because I was such a stupid idiot!”

  “No, because you were so good in bed.”

  “Because I was a whore!”

  “No, I’m not wording this right. We never thought how our masquerade would affect other people. It was just supposed to be for two weeks. I never meant...”

  “For the joke to last longer, because after you met me you realized how dumb I was, how gullible, and how easy I was to get into bed.”

  “You misunderstand.”

  “Oh, I understand alright—you made it very clear. You wormed your way into my bed, pretending to be my husband. You and Brad had a good laugh about me!”

  “I never told Brad about us. I did not expect to want you like this, to need you like air. I never expected to care about you.”

  “Then if you care so much, why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

  “The charade got all mixed up. I was in over my head and did not know how to untangle the mess.”

  “Oh, so I’m a mess?”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “No, you’re the mess, you sick sonofabitch!” She shoved my chest and I fell on the couch.

  “I tried to tell you that last night. Remember I told you, I am not who you think I am? I was going to tell you that night at dinner and then...and then…”

  “You stood me up.” She closed her eyes and trembled. “The attention you paid to Traci was the cruelest trick of all. Traci refuses to believe her father is dead. She rides that rocking horse you made her for hours. How could you do that to a child? How could you hurt her that way?”

  “I never thought...”

  “No, I guess you don’t think.” She towered over me where I was sitting. “Just so you get what you want, to hell with the rest of us. You’re just like your brother, a selfish spoiled brat who thinks of no one but himself.”

  Her purse had fallen off the edge of the couch. She reached down and picked it up.

  I had not explained things correctly, had not expected her to just show up at my door. There was a time when I rehearsed what I planned to say when confessing the truth but weeks and weeks passed, a lifetime ago, and my windpipe rusted with nerves.

  All I could think about was she is leaving me.

  She is walking out on me, which was ironic since Ronni never really walked into my life. She had never really been mine. She was always Brad’s wife. She never once said I want you, Jayden. I need you, Jayden. Good night, Jayden. I needed to hear her say the words even if I had to force her.

  I have to stop her!

  Ronni opened the front door and before she could escape, I slammed it shut, trapping her between my arms. She stamped her foot down but I was too fast for her and jumped out of the way.

  Tears came to her eyes.

  I locked my eyes with hers and tried to look sincere so she would believe me and forget what a liar I was, forget my deception, make her…I felt weak at the knees. She was doing it to me again, making me aware of only her. There was only Ronni. The world narrowed down to her and what she was making me feel. I could barely breathe, could hardly think what to say because I wanted to lose myself in her, open her up like a flower in the morning opening to the sun.

  Her eyes glittered. “Oh, no, are you going to rape me again?”

  Ouch. That hurt. “Rape?” I snorted. “You enjoyed every second of our lovemaking. You screamed out for more every time. You could not get enough of me. Admit it, Ronni.”

  “You conceited, arrogant man! I thought you were my husband,” she said in a biting voice. “And not my…not my…Oh, my God!”

  “It was me Dammit!” I pounded my chest with my fist. “It was me you made love to like you meant it. It was I who made you scream out with passion. I may have answered to my brother’s name but I never acted like Brad. I was always myself whether you want to admit it or not. What did Shakespeare say? A rose is a rose by any other name. I am who I am whether I say my name is Jayden or Brad. A name does not change the person. You can deny me all you want, but I’m still the drug you crave.”

  “Screw you and your logic. A creep is a creep by any other name,” she recited in a mocking voice. “That’s not Shakespeare speaking; it’s Ronni O’Bo
yle, a wronged wife, a harmed sister-in-law, an injured woman.”

  I pounded the door with my fists. “I’m not my brother, goddamnit! Get that through your thick head. Brad and I were nothing alike except in physical appearance.”

  “Well you sure had me fooled,” she drawled. “That was you skulking around Brad’s funeral, wasn’t it, hiding under an umbrella like the big bad wolf?”

  “I wanted to see how you and Traci were doing. I was worried about you.”

  “Hah!”

  “I had every right to attend my brother’s funeral.”

  “Hiding in the shadows? I saw your name in the book at the viewing. I didn’t see you there.”

  “So that’s how you got my name and address. I forgot about signing the book at the funeral home and I was not skulking.” I pointed to my face and said, “What was I supposed to do, make everyone think Brad came back to life? I didn’t want to explain.”

  “Because you’re a sneaky jerk. If I did not come here looking for you, I never would have known. You would have let me go through life wondering if Brad had a split personality and feeling guilty for that poor woman’s death.”

  I flinched.

  “And what about Barbie? Did you step into Brad’s shoes with his mistress?”

  Ronni cared about me else, she would not appear so hurt. “Say it, Ronni,” I said in a husky voice and massaged her shoulders, slow and sexy. “Say, I want you, Jayden. I need you, Jayden.”

  She yanked her shoulders from my grasp. “You think I need you? You think I need any man?”

  I reached my hand down to her thigh and crawled up her skirt with my fingers. God help me, she did not stop me. She could not stop the moan rising from her throat because her own body was a traitor.

  I breathed heavily into her hair. “I can make you want me.”

  I lowered my head and kissed her neck with hot, moist lips.

  She pushed her head sideways to give me access and wrapped her arms around me.

  I shoved my leg between her knees and pushed her legs open so that she sat on my thigh with her back against the door. I massaged her with my knee in slow sensuous circles.

  “I want you, Jayden,” she moaned, her words barely coherent. “You’re right. My body needs and craves you, Jayden.” She panted and closed her eyes.

  She was burning for me. Her words excited me beyond belief. It had been so long, forever since we made love and my body pounded with desire, but our reckoning was too important to mess up with just sex. I echoed back her words from several months ago: “Do you believe that a couple can begin again?”

  I waited for her answer, swaying on my feet and staring from bloodshot eyes haggard from drink and fatigue. I locked my eyes with hers, demanding her response, staring at her from the same blue eyes of her dead husband, a brother I murdered. I did it for you, Ronni. I killed for you, to protect you. I showed her more than once my love for her by the notes with the roses.

  She took a deep, raspy breath. “You can never, ever get me to say I care about you, Jayden. I love you Jayden. You may seduce my body but never my mind, soul, or heart.” Her eyes flashed daggers. “What about Barbie, Jayden?”

  She called me by my name just so there was no mistake that she was talking about me, so there could be no confusion about who slept with Barbie when Jayden was dallying in Austin pretending to be Brad.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “The phone sex? The clever little ploy when you pretended you did not know Barbie was Brad’s girlfriend. You slept with Brad’s wife, surely you must have kept Brad’s girlfriend happy when you were in Austin posing as your brother. Barbie would be less of a moral lapse than a wife, less of a guilt trip, and more pleasurable. After all, who can resist the exquisite Barbie?”

  “She’s not exquisite,” I said in a flat voice. “You have nothing to be jealous of. Barbie is nothing to me. I do admit she threw herself at me, but I never fucked her.”

  “No, you fucked me over.” She shook her head and tears clouded her eyes. “I would have to care about you to be jealous.”

  I brought my face closer to hers and emphasized my words. “I don’t want any other woman. Only you. Just you.”

  “I don’t care a fig about you, Jayden Tremblay,” and her bottom lip trembled.

  “Stay with me.”

  “I...I...I have to go.”

  “Get to know me.” I reached out a hand and touched her cheek as if she was a rare flower.

  “I hate you!”She slapped my hand away and slung her purse across her shoulder.

  I did not try to stop her from leaving nor even ask where she was staying.

  Chapter 72

  JAYDEN

  I poured another drink. I was back to before she ever rang my doorbell and feeling even more sorry for myself. Ronni left me with a hurting heart. I had wanted her to care about me, respect me, and say that she thought I was a decent human being.

  There was nothing I could do or say that would make her not resent me. She was right—a creep is a creep is a creep by any other name, by any disguise.

  I did not want to think about the niece I left behind, the most innocent one in our charade. Traci felt like a daughter and abandoning her caused guilt, loss, and grief.

  The doorbell rang again.

  I flung the door open and then leaned casually against the door, one eyebrow lifted, hiding my pain behind an arrogant mask.

  “Oh, get that grin off your face, you jackass,” Ronni said. “My, uh, cell phone is dead. Can I borrow your phone so I can call a taxi?”

  “I'll take you to your hotel.”

  “Your offer of a ride is unnecessary,” she stuttered.

  “Oh, I think it is a necessity. You came all the way to Canada on my account. The least I can do is drive you safely back to your hotel.”

  I grabbed her arm and escorted her into the garage. I slammed my fist against the garage door opener and the heavy door opened, letting moonlight shine into the garage.

  After treating her roughly, I opened the passenger car door and bowed like a gentleman.

  Ronni merely stood there watching me mock her and rubbing her arms as if she froze inside.

  “Are you afraid to ride in a car with me, Ronni?” I secretly fumed at her mistrust. I could have screwed her earlier when she lay on the couch helpless or when she leaned against the door, moaning for me. It had taken all my self-control to resist my urges. I could no longer settle for just sex with Ronni. From now on, she would have to come to me of her own free will. I was tired of skulking about, her words, and hiding under an umbrella. I really intended to drive Ronni back to her hotel, leave her there for good, and get on with life.

  I pushed her onto the car seat immediately regretting my rough treatment.

  “Your car is a black Mercedes, just like Brad's car,” she said in a nervous voice.

  I patted the hood of the car. “The devil's transport. Like all identical twins, Brad and I have, had, a lot in common. We were once the same zygote in our mother’s womb until we split in two. He went his way and I went mine, but we both ended up buying the same year and model. We have the same tastes.”

  “Like having phone sex with Barbie Simpson,” she muttered.

  “That was Brad, not me.” I slammed the car door shut and the car rocked on its tires.

  I floored the gas and backed out of the garage rather recklessly. “Put on your seat belt; it’s going to be a rough ride.”

  Her hands were shaking when she snapped on the seat belt.

  “Ronni, why did you come all the way to Canada to see me? Do you personally visit everyone in Brad’s viewing book from the funeral home to thank them for coming to the services?”

  “I saw your name and address much earlier on Brad’s travel bag with Air Canada travel tags. The bag had a bloody knife in it.”

  My leg tensed and the Mercedes gained speed.

  “Did you know Brad had a wife in Canada?” she said.

  �
��Yes,” I said and my voice sounded strained. “I prefer not to talk about Vanessa.”

  “Yes,” she said in a flat voice, “I know what Brad did.”

  We drove the rest of the way in silence but I was aware of her seated beside me every millimeter of the way. I felt her the way I sensed my own heart beating, my own lungs breathing, and my own brain jumping about.

  In no time at all, I jerked the car onto the parking lot of the Chateau Victoria Hotel.

  “How did you know where I'm staying?” she said suspiciously.

  I reached into my pocket, yanked out a business card of the hotel, and threw the card at her. “This dropped out of your purse,” I snapped. “So you see, Ronni, I know where you're staying anyway, whether I give you a ride or not.” I twisted the car into a parking spot and slammed on the brake. “Are you still frightened?” I leaned across to her, one hand on the steering wheel, my other arm across the seat, and my thumb a hairline away from her neck.

  “No.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “You little liar,” I said, chuckling. “You're scared of how I make you feel.”

  “Shut up,” she said and I laughed even harder, crueler, recalling her words. As long as you get what you want, to hell with the rest of us. You are just like your brother, a selfish spoiled brat who thinks of no one but himself.

  Why deny myself what I know she really wanted? She was tense from my presence, tied up in knots. Sex would ease the tenseness she was feeling and relax her body so she would be numb and tingly all over.

  Ronni accused me of being a selfish spoiled brat and to hell with everyone else. I would never hear any kind words from her and certainly did not need any more shit from her. I should just live down to her expectations, and think of myself, my wants, my needs, and I needed her so desperately I ached. All my blood seemed to rush to one part of my body so that I was heavy and filled with lust for her.

  I would never see Ronni again after tonight any way. She would fly out of my life. Why not say good-bye to my beloved sister-in-law with fireworks? One more time for the road, for old time's sake, right here in the car, in my car, not my brother’s vehicle.