The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

  I was almost asleep when he walked into the bedroom and turned on a bedside lamp.

  “You weren’t sleeping, were you?” He came around to my side of the bed and stood looking down at me.

  “I was.”

  “I’m hurt. I thought you’d be waiting up for me. You know how I miss you when I’m gone.”

  My eye started twitching. I gave him a tight smile. “Of course I missed you. But I thought you’d be tired anyway.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Never too tired for you. I brought you a present.”

  I sat up and waited.

  It was the red and black corset I’d seen in his suitcase. I took it from him, and the smell of Incomparable wafted over me. The sick bastard wanted me to wear this after she had.

  “Here are the stockings that go with it. Get up and put them on.”

  “Why don’t you let me pick something out and surprise you?” I didn’t want them touching my skin after they’d been on her body.

  He threw the corset at me. “Now!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bed. “Arms.”

  I lifted my arms, and he pulled off my nightgown so that I was standing there in only my panties.

  “You’re getting fat.” He pinched the flesh on my waist and made a face. “I’m going to have to buy you a girdle soon. Don’t make any plans for the rest of the week. You’ll be spending it with the trainer every day. We have dinner at the club on Thursday, and I’ve bought you a new dress. It had better fit.” He shook his head. “Lazy bitch. Now put on the outfit your nice husband went to all the trouble of buying for you.”

  I pulled the stiff fabric up over my hips and stomach. It was tight, but I managed to make it fit. My face was hot with shame, and I had to look up at the ceiling to keep from crying. When I had fastened the stockings, he made me do a pirouette for him.

  He shook his head. “Looks like shit on you.” He pushed me down. “All fours.”

  I fell to the floor, the hard wood sending waves of pain through my knees. Before I could brace myself, I heard his pants unzip and felt him behind me. He was rough, and I felt like I was being torn in two. When he finally finished, he stood up and looked down at me. “Still the best around, Daph.”

  I felt my body go weak as I slumped to the floor in anguish. Had all of this been for nothing? Was he already tired of Amber? Now that I had allowed myself to envision a life away from him, there was no way I was giving up. One way or another, I would be free.

  Sixty-Five

  She must have given him an ultimatum. I heard him whispering on the phone in the bathroom last night, telling her he needed more time. She’d better play her cards right, I thought, or it could all blow up. Jackson was not a man to be threatened. I’d seen her the day before when I stopped by the office, and I could tell. She was definitely pregnant, at least three months along. I wondered if it was a boy or girl. I don’t think I’ve ever prayed so hard for anything in my life since Julie died.

  All of us walked on eggshells all through dinner. I could hear his phone pinging with texts from the dining room. At one point he got up, threw his napkin on the chair, and stormed from the room. Minutes later he was back, and I didn’t hear any more texts coming in.

  After I put the girls to bed, we watched a documentary on penguins. Finally, around ten, he looked at me.

  “Let’s turn in.”

  To my relief, he washed up, got into bed, and fell asleep. I lay there in the dark, wondering what was going on between them. I had started my period last night and had just gotten up to take something for my dull headache, then got back into bed and fell asleep.

  I thought I was dreaming. Something bright was hurting my eyes, and I tried to turn but found myself immobilized. My eyes flew open. He was straddling me, shining a flashlight at them.

  “Jackson, what are you doing?”

  “Are you sad, Daphne?”

  I shielded my eyes from the light and turned my head to the side. “What?”

  He pushed my cheek so that I was looking into the light again. “Are you sad that you got your period? Another month and no baby.”

  What was he talking about? Could he have somehow found out about the IUD? “Jackson, please, that hurts.”

  He turned the light off, and I felt the cold steel of the gun against my neck.

  He clicked the flashlight on again. Then off. On and off while the hand holding the gun pressed against my neck. “Are you laughing behind my back every month? Knowing how much I want a son?”

  “Of course not. I would never laugh at you.” The words came out in a whisper.

  He slid the gun from my neck up to my face and positioned it over one eye. “It would be hard to cry without an eye.”

  He’s going to kill me this time.

  Then he moved it to my mouth and ran it around my lips. “It would be hard to talk about me without a mouth.”

  “Jackson, please. Think of the children.”

  “I am thinking of the children. The ones I don’t have. The son I don’t have because you’re a withered-up old prune. But don’t worry. I have a solution.”

  He moved the gun to my stomach and drew a figure eight. “It’s okay, Daphne, if you’re too used up to carry a baby in here. I’ve decided we can adopt.”

  “What are you talking about?” I was too afraid to move, worried the gun would go off.

  “I know someone who’s going to have a baby, and she doesn’t want it. We could take it.”

  My whole body tensed. “Why would we want to adopt someone else’s baby?”

  I heard him cock the gun. He leaned over and turned the lamp on so that I could see.

  He smiled at me. “There’s only one bullet. Let’s see what happens. If I pull the trigger and you live, we’ll adopt. If you die, we won’t. Sound fair?”

  “Please . . .”

  I watched in terror as his finger moved back and held my breath until I heard the click. The breath whooshed out of me, and a cry escaped my lips.

  “Good news. We’re going to have a son.”

  Part III

  Sixty-Six

  Amber left the apartment on East Sixty-Second Street carrying a small suitcase, her credit card, and a wad of money. Jackson had called earlier to let her know he’d be there by nine in the evening, and she was going to make sure he walked into an empty apartment. She was tired of this waiting game. One day he was going to tell Daphne, and the next day he had an excuse for why he couldn’t. She wasn’t going to take it any longer. This was showdown time.

  She’d booked a room at a small hotel under a different name. The note she left said simply:

  I’m afraid you don’t love me or our son. I don’t think you have any intention of leaving Daphne to marry me. If you don’t want this child, I will see that he doesn’t come into this world.

  With great sorrow,

  Amber

  At ten past nine her cell phone began ringing. She ignored it. In a few minutes it rang again, and once more she refused to answer. This continued for twenty minutes, and then he left a message. Amber, please. Don’t do anything foolish. I love you. Please call me.

  Amber heard the pleading and panic in his voice, smiled, and turned off her ringer. Let him call all night and wonder where she was and what she’d done. She turned on the TV and laid down on the bed. This would be a long, boring night, but the time had come for a drastic move on her part. I’m not going to be the patsy again, she thought, and fell into a fitful sleep.

  She’d gotten up several times through the night to go to the bathroom, and each time she checked her phone. Call after call from Jackson, and messages and texts that alternated between begging and fury. The last time she got up was four in the morning, and finally she slept uninterrupted until eight o’clock. She got up and called room service. Decaffeinated tea and yogurt were delivered twenty minutes later, along with the morning paper. She scanned the pages with little interest, and then she waited. And waited. And waited.

  At two i
n the afternoon she punched in Jackson’s number. He answered before the first ring was complete. “Amber! Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”

  She whispered into the phone with a quivery voice. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I love you, but you forced me.” She let out a quiet sob to emphasize her pitifulness.

  “What are you talking about? What have you done?”

  “I have an appointment in an hour, Jackson. I’m sorry. I love you.” And she hung up.

  Let him stew with that for a while, she thought. Her phone rang again, and this time she picked it up on the fifth ring.

  “What?” she said.

  “Amber, listen to me. Don’t do this. I love you. I love our son. I want to marry you. I will marry you. I’ll tell Daphne tonight. Please. Believe me.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Jackson.” She made her voice sound weak and tired.

  “Amber, you can’t go through with this. You’re carrying my son. I won’t lose my son.” He sounded furious.

  “You’ve forced me to do it, Jackson. It’s your fault.” She heard him sigh, and then his tone changed.

  “No, no. I know I’ve been dragging my feet, but it’s all for us. I was waiting for the right time.”

  “That’s just it. It seems like the right time is never going to come. I can’t wait forever, Jackson. And neither can this appointment.”

  “You would actually kill our child? I can’t believe that. Our beautiful little boy?”

  “I can’t have this baby by myself and unmarried. Maybe you think it’s all right, but I wasn’t raised that way.”

  “I promise you we’ll be married before he’s born. I promise. But come back to me, Amber. Where are you? I’ll come get you now.”

  “I don’t know—”

  Jackson cut her off. “We’ll go back to my apartment. You can stay there. Forever. Please.”

  Her lips curled into a catlike smile.

  * * *

  Jackson was there within the hour. She got into the back of the limo and gave him what she hoped was a pitiful look. His lips were white, and his face was set in a scowl.

  “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

  “Jackson, I—”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. “How could you threaten to kill our child? To hold him hostage.”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  He dropped her hand. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to my son. Or to you.”

  There was something in his manner and voice that unnerved her, but she shrugged it off. Of course he was angry. Worried. He wasn’t acting like himself.

  “I won’t, Jackson. I promise.”

  “Good.”

  They went back to the apartment, and she coaxed him into bed. They stayed there until dark, Amber begging him for forgiveness while trying to ensure that their plans were still on track.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked him.

  “Starving. How about an omelet?” Jackson said, throwing the covers back and bouncing out of bed. Amber followed him to the kitchen, and he began to crack eggs into a bowl. Now is the time to get down to it, she thought. Before he changes his mind.

  “I’ve been thinking, Jackson. You’re not going to move out of the house, are you? It was yours before you married her.”

  Amber had wanted that house from the first day she saw it. She wanted to be the mistress of the house, have Bella and Tallulah have to listen to her. They would be guests in her house now, and Bella would feel the sting of her hand if she continued with her shenanigans. The first thing she was going to do would be to have a portrait of herself done—one of those full nudes while she was pregnant. She’d hang it in a place where they’d have to see it every time they came to visit. She’d make it so miserable for them that they wouldn’t want to come for weekends, and she’d make sure that Jackson didn’t care either. In time, she would make him see that they were little bloodsuckers, just like their mother.

  “I can’t very well kick her out when I’m the one leaving the marriage,” he said, flipping the eggs over.

  “I suppose you’re right. But . . . she hates that house. She’s told me how pretentious she thinks it is. I really don’t think she deserves it. She’ll probably move her mother in with them. Do you really want that beautiful house to belong to her? Will she even keep it up?”

  She could see his wheels turning.

  “Well, I did have it long before I met her. Let me see what I can do. Maybe I can persuade her to let me have it.”

  “Oh, Jackson! That would be wonderful. I love that house. We’re going to be so happy there.”

  The only thing that would make her happier than moving in and staking her claim would be if Daphne had to move in to Amber’s one-room hovel. She knew she was being a bitch, but she didn’t care. Daphne had been spoiled for far too long. It would do her good to see how it felt to have the designer shoe on the other foot. She might have pretended to be Amber’s friend, but Amber knew that, deep down, Daphne still considered her the help. Reaching down like Lady Bountiful to help poor, pathetic Amber. It infuriated her to realize that Daphne had never considered her a threat. Daphne thought she was so much more beautiful than Amber, was so secure in Jackson’s love for her. Well, guess what, Daphne. He loves me now. He belongs to me now. And I’m giving him a brand-new family. You and your brats are obsolete.

  Sixty-Seven

  It was finally happening! Jackson had called her that morning and asked her to come to the New York apartment to discuss something “serious.” Daphne didn’t need to wonder what it was about because, thanks to a lesson with private eye Jerry Hanson, she’d learned how to clone a cell phone. She’d been privy to texts between Amber and Jackson for the past month. She had to give it to Amber, that disappearing stunt of hers was a stroke of genius. Jackson would do just about anything to ensure he didn’t lose the son he’d been waiting to have for so long.

  She arrived at five o’clock, and when she walked into the apartment, she could smell Amber’s perfume. The two of them were sitting on the sofa.

  She pretended to be shocked. “What’s going on?”

  “Sit down, Daphne,” Jackson answered. Amber said nothing, merely sat there with a tight smile and a malicious look in her eyes. “We need to talk to you.”

  Daphne continued to stand and looked at Amber. “We?”

  Amber looked down at her hands, but her lips were still curled in a smile.

  “Whatever is going on, just tell me.”

  Jackson leaned back and stared at her a long moment. “I think it’s pretty clear that we’ve been unhappy lately.”

  Unhappy lately? Daphne wanted to say. When have we ever been happy? “What are you talking about?”

  He stood up and started pacing and then turned to look at her. “I’m divorcing you, Daphne. Amber is pregnant with my son.”

  For their benefit, Daphne feigned shock and sank into the chair. “Pregnant? You’re sleeping with her?”

  “What did you expect?” His eyes traveled up and down her body. “You’ve let yourself go. Fat, slovenly, and lazy. No wonder you couldn’t produce a son for me. You treat your body like shit.”

  It took everything she had not to tell them how stupid they both were. Instead, she pasted on a sad expression and looked at Amber. “How long have you been sleeping with my husband?”

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen. We fell in love.” At this, she looked at Jackson, and he took her hand in his.

  “Really?” Daphne’s voice rose. “Then how long have you been in love?”

  “I’m sorry, Daphne. I never meant to hurt you.” Her eyes told a different story. It was obvious that she was relishing every moment.

  “I trusted you, treated you like a sister, and this is how you repay me?”

  She sighed. “We couldn’t help ourselves. We’re soul mates.”

  Daphne almost started laughing, and a sound escaped that she hoped they mistook for a
sob.

  “I’m really sorry, Daphne,” she repeated. “Sometimes these things just happen.” She put a hand on her belly and rubbed. “Our children will be related, so I hope in time you’ll come to forgive me.”

  Daphne’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? Are you cra—”

  “Enough,” Jackson interrupted. “We want to get married, and I want to do it before my son is born. I’ll make it worth your while to give me a quick divorce.”

  Daphne stood. “I have a lot to think about. When I’m ready to discuss it, I’ll let you know. And I don’t want her there.”

  As soon as she walked out of the apartment and out of their line of sight, she broke into a smile of her own. It was already worth her while, but she wouldn’t tell him that. How can you put a price on your freedom? But she’d take the money for her children’s sake. Why should Amber have it all? No, she’d make sure that the settlement was generous, and then she’d grant him his quick divorce.

  Sixty-Eight

  Amber closed her eyes as the manicurist massaged her hands with creamy lotion. She’d told the girl that she was getting married, and immediately she’d gushingly suggested a French manicure. How completely tacky. She opened her eyes and looked at her left hand. It was the first time she’d taken the Graff diamond—one carat larger than Daphne’s—off her finger. She smiled and watched as the polish went on and then suddenly pulled her hand away.

  “I don’t like that color. Take it off and let me see what else you have,” she demanded.

  The young woman obediently gathered more bottles and set them before Amber. She took her time looking them over and finally chose a champagne nude. “This one.” She pointed to the bottle and sat back in the leather chair. She’d had the works today—massage, facial, pedicure. Tomorrow she would look beautiful, and all her dreams would become a reality as she stood before a clerk of the court and became Mrs. Jackson Parrish. Jackson’s divorce had become final just in time. The baby was due any day, and she wanted to be Jackson’s wife when he was born. Jackson had been in a state of ecstasy about the coming birth of his son, and he wanted a huge wedding to introduce his pregnant new wife to all of his friends.