Tara picked it up. Scrawled in black magic marker was a name: Britney. Tara frowned. She took it over to her Mac in the living room. Tara had no idea what might be on the disk or who this Britney chick might be but Lorraine had planted a little seed in her head and now Tara’s suspicions were growing.
She slid it inside her computer and waited. A screen appeared with an icon she hadn’t seen before. Her computer didn’t like whatever she’d just inserted.
File Unrecognizable.
The uncooperative file on the mysterious CD was protected. It seemed to be a text file of some sort but she still couldn’t get it to open. Clem’s computer was a PC so it was a compatibility issue she couldn’t resolve. She needed to a PC to access whatever was on that disk. Tara grabbed her cell phone and dialed.
“Hi, Lorraine, it’s me. Your laptop’s a PC, isn’t it?”
Thirty minutes later, Lorraine and Tara were staring at the screen of the PC laptop. Lorraine had a sarcastic expression on her face.
“I told you, didn’t I? Men. All the damn same. Who the fuck’s Britney?”
“No clue,” Tara answered. A box on the screen asked for a password. Tara left it blank and hit the enter button in the hope the file might open but nothing happened. She was no techno geek by any stretch of the imagination.
“Hmmmm…” Tara sighed.
“Shit,” muttered Lorraine. “Why the fuck does he need to password protect it? That’s your evidence right there. Okay, let’s figure this out. What’s Clem’s mother’s name?”
“Louise.”
Lorraine typed the letters into the password space then hit the enter button again. It didn’t work.
“He ever have a dog?”
“Buster.” Lorraine re-typed the password. Nothing.
“Crap!”
“Mother’s maiden name?”
“Crowther.”
Lorraine hit the keys. Nothing.
“Fuck!”
“Middle name?”
“James.”
Nothing.
“Bullshit.”
“We could be here all day trying to guess his password, Lorraine.”
“Fuck. I’ll go to the restaurant and I’ll catch the bastard red-handed.” Lorraine was starting to get on her soapbox again. Tara’s eyes widened.
“No you won’t, Lorraine.”
“Tara, if Clem’s cheating on you, wouldn’t you rather know for sure than build a resentment that’ll burn you up because he’s never gonna tell you about her so you’ll end up hating the very man you’re so damn crazy about? Do you really wanna be as fucked up as me? Yeah, I admit it. I’m fucked up but that’s what the male species has done to this girl!”
Tara looked downcast. Lorraine had made her point.
“Okay,” Tara said quietly. “I’ll go to the restaurant.”
CHAPTER 4
Tara didn’t often drive into downtown, especially at night. If it wasn’t for the GPS in her SUV she’d be totally lost. Her mind was racing as she sped north along Interstate 35. The skyscrapers of downtown loomed large on the horizon. She’d changed from her usual casual attire something more presentable; a chic black dress and heels. After all, what woman doesn’t look cute dressed like that? She thought. And if she was about to catch her cheating husband with some tart, she was going to make sure said tart would see that Mrs. Drew wasn’t some frumpy old stay-at-home wifey. But what would she do if Clem was getting all snugly with another woman when she got there? That would be it. Over. How could she ever trust him again? There’s no way she could stay in a marriage with a cheat and a liar. No way.
What would she say to him? Or to this Britney slut? To the both of them sitting there like two little lovebirds? Would she create a scene? What if Clem got mad? No, he wouldn’t. Clem was too cool for that. He’d try and weasel out of it with some damn lie that would sound so fucking convincing she’d have no way of knowing if he was telling the truth or not. Shit. Lorraine was right. The resentment was already building inside her.
“Take the next exit,” said the dulcet-toned female voice of her car’s navigation system.
“Okay, shut up,” Tara mumbled through tight lips.
Friday night at Bella Luna was always packed with diners. This was definitely a ‘reservations only’ establishment. It was a large, stylish, upscale restaurant in the heart of the downtown business district. The décor featured deep orange walls with dark Japanese wood tables and chairs though the cuisine was decidedly Tuscan Italian. Its low lighting gave the place a distinctly warm and inviting ambience. There was the usual clientele of suited corporate types sitting at tables with a sprinkling of beautiful women.
A tall statuesque hostess greeted Tara at the front desk. “Do you have a reservation?” Her glossy red lips smiled perfectly like a model in a Revlon cosmetics magazine ad.
“No, no. I’m here to see, er…some people who are dining here tonight.”
“Their name? I can tell you which table they’re sitting at,” the helpful hostess suggested.
Tara couldn’t see past the bamboo partition, which separated her from the main room full of diners. She was nervous. This could be a very weird situation.
“Er….Drew. Clem Drew is the name,” Tara replied, straining her neck for any sign of her husband. The hostess checked her list of reservations. A perfectly manicured fingernail stopped two thirds of the way down the page of her leather bound book.
“Here we are. Drew. Plus one.” The hostess smiled at Tara. Tara’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it.
“This way.” The tall hostess walked into the main room.
“No!” Tara blurted out, causing her guide to stop and turn around with a puzzled look. “It’s a surprise. Just point out where they’re sitting.”
“Oh, okay. Table eighteen. Just through there to your right,” the hostess indicated. Tara sucked in a lungful of air and walked slowly in the direction of the hostess’s elegantly outstretched arm. Her eyes darted around the busy room like a nervous fawn surrounded by a pack of wolves. She walked as nonchalantly as she could muster past the various groups eating, drinking and conversing at their tables. There was a lively hubbub of chitchat as servers went about their duties. And there, right where the hostess had pointed, Tara spotted a pretty brunette: a young thirty-something sitting alone at a table for two.
With a cocktail in her left hand, the woman deftly texted on her iPhone with the other, obviously waiting for Clem. The brunette glanced up with an expressionless stare, noting Tara’s approaching presence. It wasn’t Justine but yes, that was her. That was Clem’s whore all right. Maybe Clem was in the restroom or at the bar or maybe…
“Tara?”
The voice was unmistakably Clem’s. Tara spun around to see her husband sitting with a very distinguished older gentleman.
“Oh! Hi!” Tara gushed with an embarrassed smile. “Glad I found you,” she blustered as Clem and his dining companion got up from their chairs.
“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Clem looked genuinely concerned. Tara’s Plan B speech kicked in on cue.
“Oh, no. Yes, I mean! Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine but I was worried you might have needed this.” Tara pulled out Clem’s mysterious CD from her shoulder bag. Clem smiled.
“Oh, honey. That’s okay. No, I don’t need that. I’ve already copied it onto my hard drive.” Clem turned to his guest. “Hank, this is my wife, Tara.”
“Good evening, Tara. Hank Britney, pleased to meet you,” the older man smiled warmly, extending his hand to shake Tara’s.
“Hank’s one of our biggest clients.”
“Used to be the biggest till the new guys came to town. Very thoughtful of you, Tara. Not many wives would go to so much effort just on a hunch.”
Tara smiled weakly and shrugged. “No big deal. I just thought it might’ve been important.”
“Care to join us?” Hank suggested.
Tara would loved to have joined them both especially
as she was all dressed up for the evening and now in serious need of a stiff drink. She felt incredibly silly barging in on them like some jealous wife who thought her husband might be cheating on her. Fancy that! But Clem wouldn’t want her to stick around. Tara figured if she sat down the conversation would be geared to include her and then the whole point of Clem meeting this Hank Britney character would be wasted. Tara looked at Clem for some clue that he might want her to join them.
“Looks like we’re short of a chair,” Clem said which was enough of a hint for Tara to leave.
“You two carry on. Love to join you both but I’m meeting Lorraine and her new flame at McCormicks,” Tara lied. “Gotta get going. Nice to meet you, Britney. Sorry, Hank!”
“Likewise,” Hank smiled.
Tara pecked Clem on the cheek and departed. She couldn’t get out of the place quick enough. She felt so ridiculous. How could she have been so wrong? It was Lorraine’s fault. That bitter, twisted woman had screwed up Tara’s usually very levelheaded thinking. Her anger was now directed away from her innocent husband and focused on Lorraine as she hurriedly exited Bella Luna.
As Tara waited outside and waited for the valet kid to bring her vehicle, her blood rush subsided and she collected her thoughts. Clem was just having a business dinner. He wasn’t having an affair after all. She was happy. Okay, that was all rather embarrassing and unnecessary back inside the restaurant but her worst fears were not realized. Tara was hugely relieved. That was the first and last time she would ever let Lorraine warp her thinking. Clem was a good, hard working husband and she needed to remain supportive through this difficult time for him. She would not be so easily manipulated again. Tara was mad at herself for listening to Lorraine in the first place. That woman was damaged goods when it came to the male gender. Her instincts were always wrong and she was wrong again this time. She wanted to call her right then and there and tell her she’d figured it out all cock-eyed but Tara knew she was in too much of an emotional state and might regret what she’d say.
Back in the sanctuary of her travertine tiled bathroom, a calmer Tara soaked in her Jacuzzi tub with its air jets gently pumping out bubbles, merlot in hand. She hummed along to the soothing tones of a Nora Jones CD playing softly and tried to mellow out before Clem got home. She’d been soaking for nearly an hour and was ready to get out but was just too relaxed and warm to move.
“Hey, you.” Clem threw his tie in the closet and walked over to the tub causing Tara to snap out of her meditative state.
“Oh, hi, honey. I’m sorry, that was so dumb of me tonight.” Tara said quietly, still feeling guilty for thinking Clem might be cheating on her. Not that Clem any inkling of Tara’s motivation for showing up at Bella Luna. Or did he?
“Sorry? What for? Hank Britney was impressed. He thought you were my secretary at first. Even Justine’s not that efficient.”
“I was worried I’d made you look like some forgetful idiot,” Tara lied. She was more worried Clem had found her out. He pulled off his shoes and sat on the side of the bathtub.
“Britney had already seen my Power Point presentation for the direction I want to take the agency next year. He loved it. That guy carries a lot of clout so it’s good to have him in my corner. Any of that merlot left?”
“On the kitchen counter.” Clem headed downstairs. “Clem?” Tara called out.
“What?”
“I love you, honey.”
“Ditto.”
Tara slid her shoulders back under the foamy water, relieved that Clem wasn’t mad at her and that he hadn’t figured out her ulterior motive. Seemed he was in a good mood for a change, too. A rare occurrence indeed. Maybe things on Dunkirk Crescent weren’t so bad after all. A warm and fuzzy feeling drifted through Tara. Okay, maybe she was a little drunk but so what? She felt good.
By the time Clem came back up to the bedroom, Tara was already in bed asleep. Maybe Clem might have had carnal thoughts on his mind but that wasn’t going to happen now. He got undressed quietly and got into bed. Leaning over, he gently kissed Tara on her brow so he wouldn’t wake her, and then rolled over to turn off the bedside lamp and go to sleep. Tara turned over slowly and sleepily to snuggle up a little closer to Clem. As they spooned together silently in the dark, she slid her arm around his stomach. She felt a slightly raised bump on his skin.
“No more squash,” she whispered.
Next morning, Tara was feeling particularly perky as she stood over by the toaster waiting for her hot cinnamon bagel to pop up. Clem walked into the kitchen, immaculately dressed as always and in Tara’s eyes looking even more handsome than usual. Clem was carrying a dark blue suit.
“Morning, honey.” Clem dumped the suit on the counter. “Can you drop this at the dry cleaners today, sweetie?”
“Sure. I’ll take it in this morning.”
The toaster dinged and the two bagel halves popped up, filling the kitchen with a delicious cinnamon aroma. Clem leaned across Tara, grabbing one of the halves and pecking her on the cheek.
“Thanks. See you later.” Clem headed for the garage.
“What about dinner tonight?” Tara called out.
“I’ll call you later!” Clem shouted back. Well, at least that was better than ‘don’t wait up.’
Tara’s Lexus pulled into a parking space outside Cho’s Dry Cleaners. She felt good that Clem’s mood seemed so much lighter than it had been over the previous three nights. Obviously, the dinner with Hank Britney had given him a sense of security which had also alleviated Tara’s sense of insecurity. How quickly feelings can change over the shortest time, Tara thought.
Tara grabbed Clem’s suit and walked into see Mrs. Cho, an elderly Chinese woman who had apparently lost the ability to smile many years ago. She appeared through a rack full of cellophane wrapped garments with a pen behind her ear. Tara dumped the suit down on the counter and gave Mrs. Cho a particularly big smile, which had absolutely no effect on the Asian laundry owner’s po-faced demeanor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cho. I need this by tomorrow, please.”
“Okay. Drew, right?”
“Yes, Tara Drew. Oh, wait…” Tara quickly checked the jacket and pants pockets. “My husband always forgets to empty his pockets,” Tara smiled, finding nothing. “Well, he proved me wrong for once.”
She handed over the suit to Mrs. Cho who checked the jacket’s lapel pocket that Tara had missed. Mrs. Cho handed a business card to Tara.
“Check all pockets.”
Tara looked at the white business card while Mrs. Cho took Clem’s suit to the back of the shop. It was a rather nondescript card with just a name, number and description printed in black Garamond type: Mistress Krystal – Professional Services - 952-941-5051.
Tara stared at it then flipped it over. Handwritten on the back in Clem’s distinctive handwriting was written ‘Tuesday, 5pm’.
As Tara drove home she felt numb inside. Professional services? No, it couldn’t be what she was thinking it might be. This wasn’t right. Surely this couldn’t be a real business card. But then again.
Maybe Lorraine wasn’t so far off the mark after all. Just when she thought everything with her and Clem seemed hunky dory again she finds what was looking like a smoking gun. Maybe she was over-reacting. No, that card was pretty clear. She had to confront Clem about this. She wanted some answers. God, what a shock to her system this was, especially after the events of the previous evening. Tara slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. She rummaged through her bag for her cell phone and placed a call to her best friend.
“Lorraine?”
“Hey, honey. How’d it go last night?”
“We have to talk. Are you at the club?”
“Yeah, come on down.”
Tara waited in the café of Bodyworks Fitness as a spandex clad Lorraine walked towards her carrying two large protein smoothies. She was anxious to learn how Tara’s evening had gone.
“You caught the sonofabitch red-handed, didn’t yo
u?” she asked a pensive Tara. By the expression on Tara’s face, Lorraine figured she knew what Tara was about to say. “I knew it.”
She sat close to Tara to comfort her. “Here, try this -- Blueberry with whey protein. It’s good for you. Full of anti-oxidants.” Lorraine handed Tara one of the enormous purple drinks.
“I’m very confused.’
“Dammit, who wouldn’t be?” Lorraine commiserated.
“I felt like a complete idiot last night. I walked in on Clem like a crazed jealous wife and he’s there with some sweet, older gentleman having a business meeting.”
Lorraine was taken aback. “Really? Then why are you so pissed off?”
“Because I found this.”
Tara handed Lorraine Mistress Krystal’s business card. Lorraine studied it.
“Ooo, kinky. Where d’you get it?”
“It was in Clem’s jacket pocket.”
“Clem’s into kinky shit?” Lorraine asked rhetorically, keeping her voice low as club members mingled about them.
“What does that card say to you?” Tara asked looking straight-faced at Lorraine. “And that’s Clem’s handwriting on the back.”
“Oh, fuck. Like I said, it says to me that Clem’s into kinky shit.” Lorraine handed the card back to Tara.
“This is one of those dominatrix people, isn’t it?” Tara asked her more sexually experienced friend.
“Well, I’m guessing she ain’t a babysitting service but I could be wrong again.”
“Who else could this person be? I mean – this card…” Tara continued.
“Honey, if that card is genuine, then someone’s due for a whupping on Tuesday at five o’clock. That’s what that cards says.” Tara suddenly lost all interest in her protein shake. “Hey, I got plenty of ex’s who deserve an ass whupping,” Lorraine quipped.
“Why would Clem want to go to someone like that? That’s disgusting.” Tara seemed shell-shocked.
“Fucked if I know. But there are a lot of creepy guys out there.”
“You’re saying Clem’s a creepy guy?”
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