Fem Dom

by Tony Cane-Honeysett

  “Yeah, Dan Ellerby.”

  “Daniel Ellerby,” Tara repeated, as she turned her attention to the espresso machine for a second caffeine blast.

  “He’s the headhunter who found me the job at Bergensons, remember?”

  “So where did you two lovebirds go?”

  “Ocean Breeze. It’s a nice restaurant.”

  “I wouldn’t know. You’ve never taken me there.” Tara was in a combative mood and Clem knew she was spoiling for a fight. “And why were you meeting him?”

  Tara folded her arms and leaned back against the counter as she watched Clem swallow a handful of vitamin pills.

  “Because it looks like I’ll be needing him,” Clem said flatly. Tara bit into her bagel. If this was Clem trying to play the sympathy card she going to react the way she figured he expected her to.

  Tara snapped. She threw her half-eaten bagel into the sink.

  “Are you having an affair, Clem? Tell me the truth!” Her eyes drilled into Clem’s. He stared back at Tara in disbelief.

  “What are you talking about?” He looked stunned.

  Tara walked over to where he was sitting and stood over him with her hands on her hips. She repeated the question with precisely the same tone. “Are you having an affair? Simple question. Yes or no?” She was as furious as Clem had ever seen her.

  “No, I am not having an affair. What is wrong with you?” Clem said firmly, completely dumbfounded by the allegation.

  “You’re lying to me, Clem. I know you’re lying.”

  “Where the fuck is this coming from, Tara? Is that why you’ve been acting so weird? This is why you haven’t been sleeping in our bed?”

  Tara’s unblinking eyes stayed on him like a tracer bullet locked onto its target. Clem stood up and glared back at her. “You’re being ridiculous, Tara, I don’t have time to have an affair even if I wanted to.”

  “What’s more I know who she is,” snapped Tara.

  “Then please tell me because I’ve got no damn idea what or who you’re talking about.”

  Tara walked up to Clem, got right in his face and said it.

  “Mistress Krystal.”

  “Who?” Clem looked completely dumbfounded. Tara pulled the business card from the pocket of her sweat pants and held it up in front of his eyes. He studied it closely then read it aloud.

  “Mistress Krystal. Professional services? Who in God’s name is that?” He shrugged.

  “You tell me.”

  “How should I know?”

  “It was in your jacket pocket.”

  “My jacket pocket? That’s insane.”

  “Is it? You’re telling me you don’t know how it got there?”

  “Nope. No clue.”

  “What do you think this card is?” Tara asked, already knowing the answer more than she’d ever admit.

  “Could be a fucking magic act for all I know or care. Jesus!” Clem shook his head seriously wondering about his wife’s mental state. He snatched the card out of Tara’s hand and studied it more closely. He flipped it over and read the scrawled writing on the back.

  “Tuesday – 5 o’clock.”

  “Recognize the handwriting? Huh?”

  “Not mine. Looks like mine,” Clem admitted. “But it isn’t.” Tara waited for a better answer but it wasn’t forthcoming.

  “Well, naturally you’re going to deny it.”

  “Tara. Calm down. I honestly have no idea who in God’s name this Mistress Krystal person is.”

  “Who’s your friend on Calloway Avenue then?”

  “My friend? Have you been following me?”

  “I’m not a complete idiot, Clem.”

  “You have been following me, haven’t you? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I hired a private investigator.”

  “What?!”

  “I’ve got videotape of you at 1611 Calloway Avenue so there’s no point in you denying it!” Tara clenched her fingers as her whole body tensed up. Clem was guilty and there was no way out now.

  He looked at Tara and smiled. He ran his hands through his already messy hair, as Tara stood like a black widow spider ready to devour a fly stuck in her web. She was red with rage. But now Clem looked at Tara with a quiet calmness that annoyed the crap out of her even more. He had no intention of trying to calm her down. In fact, he decided to fan the flame that was burning inside her and get some payback.

  “Yes, I pay a woman for her services and yes, I’ve seen her a few times. So what?”

  “You fucking bastard! You’re unbelievable! How long has this been going on? Tell me! How long?” Tara demanded.

  “Oh – long enough.” Clem sat back down.

  Tara wanted to beat the living crap out of him. Why didn’t she have a rack full of implements she could tear him up with? She paced the kitchen in a fury, tears welling up in her eyes. How could Clem be so blunt about it? He didn’t even seem to give a shit.

  “In fact, I’m going to see her this afternoon. Why don’t you come along, too? I’d like you to meet her,” Clem said, coldly.

  “How fucking dare you!”

  Smaaack!

  Tara slapped his face hard. It hurt but Clem kept his cool.

  “Two o’clock. Come with me,” Clem suggested, deciding it was his turn to eat breakfast. Tara couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “Don’t be such an asshole, Clem!” Tara wasn’t sure whether he was being serious or sarcastic.

  “I’m serious, Tara. You need to meet her. It’s only right we clear the air with this.” Clem walked over to the toaster and dropped in two slices of wholegrain bread. Tara was lost for words. She paced the kitchen some more, thinking of what response to give Clem. Her future flashed in front of her; separation, divorce, selling the house, leaving Minnesota…

  “Okay! Two o’clock. You fucking asshole!” shouted Tara as she stomped back upstairs.

  While Clem finished his breakfast, Tara was so uptight from their conversation that she had to let off steam somehow. She took off to the gym and spent the next hour punching the heavy bag alone in the cardio-boxing studio.

  Baaam! Baaam! Baaam!

  As she wailed away, so many thoughts were running through her mind. Every time she imagined Clem with Mistress Krystal, or whoever this mystery woman might be, she pummeled the bag with harder and harder right crosses and left hooks and uppercuts and haymakers…

  Baaam! Baaam! Baaam!

  She felt like beating both of them to a bloody pulp and breaking their bones. Maybe that’s exactly what she would do. After all, she’d learnt how to throw a punch and what better way to show how you really feel?

  Baaaaam!

  Tara slumped down to the ground exhausted. Where had her control gone? She was now totally devoid of all control. She didn’t have Clem where she wanted him at all. Quite the reverse, in fact. Caught on tape and guilty as sin, yet he was still the one controlling their situation. But why was he being so fucking blasé and unemotional about it, like it was no big deal? Did he have no remorse whatsoever? No feelings for Tara in the slightest?

  It was just past noon when Tara emerged a sweaty mess from Bodyworks Fitness. There was no way she could go to Calloway Avenue looking like that.

  Back at Dunkirk Crescent, she showered and got dressed. She rehearsed what she was going to say to Mistress Krystal or whoever the fuck this whore might be. First of all, she’d tell her the truth and that she wasn’t Angelina. After that, she had no idea what she would say. Fuck, this was it! Maybe Clem would prefer to be with this person rather than be married to her. That’s why he was acting like he didn’t give a shit about their marriage. Boy, this could be a brutal meeting between the three of them. Her attempt to shame and embarrass Clem and his bitch could backfire and she could end up looking stupid. This had all the hallmarks of being totally disastrous.

  Tara put the finishing touches to her make-up and went downstairs. It was one thirty and Clem was waiting, dressed very casually in the same sweat pants and
tee shirt he’d been wearing all morning. At least he’d run a brush through his hair.

  “Ready?” Tara sneered as she walked past him towards the door to the garage. Clem followed silently. “I’ll drive,” she said.

  Neither of them spoke on the way to Calloway Avenue but Tara was getting increasingly anxious the closer they traveled towards their destination. Clem looked out the window like a kid going on a day trip. His ambivalence was infuriating Tara but she bit her tongue, too wrapped up in her own emotions to engage. This was about to be a pivotal moment in their marriage and Tara’s life. Her stomach was in knots and Clem’s attitude was confusing her. She wanted to scream and to cry at the same time but she had to keep it together. Her mind was racing a million miles an hour. How could he be so callous? Didn’t their marriage mean anything to him? Had he ever truly loved her? Her heart pounded as they drove in stone silence to their destination and to Tara’s destiny.

  Within what seemed like minutes, Tara was turning onto Calloway Avenue and driving slowly down the street with its mix of retail and residential structures. Daylight made the apartment building more easily recognizable than the night before. She pulled over and stopped her SUV outside the front entrance of number 116.

  “We’re here,” said Tara, stating the obvious.

  “Thanks. See you in an hour or so,” Clem said, getting out.

  “Wait! You’re not going in there alone,” Tara scowled as she got out and hurried around the vehicle to join Clem on the sidewalk. They walked together towards the front entrance.

  “I guess you can watch,” said Clem quietly.

  “You are such an asshole.”

  Clem opened the door to the building and they both walked into a small lobby full of apartment mailboxes and nameplates. The place was shabby with a very low rent look and smell about it. He pointed to one nameplate and read it aloud.

  “Lundquist.”

  “That’s her?”

  “Yes. That’s her.”

  Tara stared hard at the nametag. That was a typically Minnesotan name. Mistress Krystal was from Chicago. That couldn’t be her real name. So if this Lundquist person wasn’t Mistress Krystal, who in the hell was she?

  Clem rang the rusting brass button and the door buzzed open. Clem led Tara up two murky flights of stairs and into a long, dimly lit hallway. The interior had an ominous, spooky feel about it but Tara was beyond caring about the décor of the seedy place. She followed Clem towards one of the faded white doors. He stopped at number 304 and rang the bell.

  As they both waited silently for the door to open, Clem shot a slick grin at his jealous wife.

  “I hate you,” Tara said venomously. Her heartbeat was now in overdrive.

  The door slowly opened and standing before them was a young woman with dark brown hair and a warm smile.

  “Hello, Clem.”

  “Hi, Christine. My wife gave me a ride here,” Clem turned to his seething wife and introduced her. “Honey, this is Dr. Lundquist, my wonderful chiropractor.”

  Tara was dumbstruck. Dr. Lundquist held out her hand to shake Tara’s.

  “Nice to meet you Mrs. Drew,” the chiropractor smiled warmly. “Please come in.”

  Tara felt dumber than a box of rocks.

  “No, no. That’s okay. I’ll just do a little shopping and pick you up in…?”

  “Oh…an hour should have me cracked and realigned, I reckon. Right doc?” Clem smiled.

  “Absolutely,” Dr. Lundquist confirmed.

  Tara gave her husband the best fake smile she could muster. Clem puckered his lips to give her a goodbye kiss. Tara reluctantly offered him her cheek and he pecked it.

  “What a cute couple you two are,” Dr. Lundquist smiled. “Now. Let’s get to work on that stubborn back of yours.”

  “Bye honey. Don’t be late now.” Clem gave Tara a little wave before going inside.

  Clunk!

  The door closed shut.

  Chiropractor? Chiropractor?

  The word screamed out inside her head as she walked back down the stairs to the street. No wonder Clem was so relaxed. He obviously wanted to teach her a lesson. It was payback time for Tara and her ridiculous accusations against him. She was relieved but emotionally spent. Tara stood outside and took a breath of fresh air. She stood for a while in shock and then burst into tears. This was all so ridiculous. What was happening to her?

  As she walked back to her SUV, feeling completely drained, she felt a huge sense of relief that she’d got it all so terribly wrong. She didn’t care about being in control anymore. All she wanted to do right there and then was let out an ear-shattering scream. But she didn’t.

  Tara didn’t drive anywhere for the next hour. She just sat in her vehicle on Calloway and stared out the window. She’d put two and two together and got five. But none of this explained Mistress Krystal’s business card in Clem’s jacket pocket. Someone must have planted the card in Clem’s jacket. It was probably that asshole Kurt Fitzgerald. Had her visits to Mistress Krystal been a complete waste of time and money? The money she’d spent on Jack Kelsey was a big, fat waste for sure. But she also felt a huge weight had been lifted off her heart. Clem wasn’t cheating on her or lying to her. She had been wrong and was very happy about it. But now what?

  Tara was so wrapped up with her thoughts that when Clem finally appeared out of the brownstone and opened the passenger door, it felt like only a few minutes had passed. He smiled at Tara.

  “I’m sorry I had to do it like that. You okay now?” Tara flung her arms around Clem and hugged him tight.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Tara said, burying her head in his chest, too embarrassed to look into her husband’s eyes.

  “I didn’t want to put you through that little charade but I figured it was the only way I’d be able to convince you I was telling the truth. You were ready to kill me back at the house. You were so furious, you weren’t go to believe anything I told you.”

  “I know, I know. I was so mad at you.” Tara opened her purse and tore up Mistress Krystal’s business card.

  “I agree that does look like my handwriting. But it’s totally bogus. I’ve honestly never seen that card before – ever. I swear to you. I have no idea how it got into my pocket but it’s obviously a fake card.”

  Tara knew there was nothing fake about that card. For the first time in a long while, she believed him. Tara pushed the start button of her Lexus and they headed for home.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing a chiropractor?” Tara asked, as she turned onto the interstate.

  “I’ve only just started seeing her. I go to see a chiropractor once – just once – and you hire a P.I. because you think I’m having an affair?”

  “That was the first time you’d seen her?”

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, boy. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’ve been gone so much that when I found that card I just…. oh, I don’t know. I guess I was just getting lonely and missed you. That’s what women do. We overthink stuff. I’m truly sorry.” Tara couldn’t help but smile at her foolish assumptions. “I’ve been such an idiot.”

  “And I’ve been a prick getting so crazy with work. I apologize for being so fucking wrapped up in my world and not including you.”

  “As long as you still love me,” Tara smiled, teary eyed.

  “Of course I do, you nitwit.”

  “And you don’t love anybody else?”

  “Well, I kinda fancy Jessica Beal and that Sofia Vergara chick,” Clem smiled.

  “That’s okay. I’ll let you have those two.” Tara laughed as they set off for home. Nothing that Clem said now could have such a devastating effect on their life. All was good. Then Clem broke the real news.

  “But we do have a problem, Tara. A real problem.”

  “Don’t mess around, Clem.” Tara looked at Clem and she knew by his serious expression that he wasn’t messing around. “Oh, shit. What now? Don’t do this to me.”

  “Fitz m
ade CEO. I’m done.” Clem sounded almost apologetic for failing to win the prize he’d so coveted for so long.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “I’m serious.”

  “You know that for sure?” Tara knew the consequences of Fitz getting the nod over Clem. Their life would be changing dramatically.

  “I’ve been well and truly stitched up. Fitz out-maneuvered me. My days at Bergensons are numbered.”

  Tara let the news sink in as she kept her eyes on the road and her hands on the wheel.

  “Well, we’re just gonna have to sell up and downsize. At least we’ve got our savings.”

  “That’s the problem,” Clem started.

  “What?” Tara glanced over at him. “You invested it all right?”

  “It’s all gone. Poof!” Clem waved his hands like an old school magician making a bunny rabbit disappear into thin air.

  “Clem!”

  “That hedge fund went belly up. We lost everything.”

  “Holy shit!” Tara swerved over to the curb and slammed on the brakes. “You mean we really do have nothing? Why didn’t you tell me this?” Tara was incredulous.

  “I didn’t want to worry you. I couldn’t change it. I figured I’d make CEO and get a big salary bump with bonuses and stock options and we’d recover our losses.”

  Clem looked as downcast as Tara had ever seen him. What an emotional roller coaster this drive was turning out to be.

  “I don’t know what to say. All our money’s gone?” Tara stared at her deflated husband.

  “Ever been to Birmingham, Alabama?”

  During the remainder of their journey home to Dunkirk Crescent, Clem told Tara about what Justine had heard from Rose and that Frank and Fitz had been conspiring together to undermine him. He told her how his meeting with Hank Britney had proved fruitless after all, after which Daniel Ellerby had painted a pretty grim picture of his prospects for landing any job anywhere even close to his level. And even living dangerously on the squash courts with Jack Perkins hadn’t left any impression with the board: only several on Clem.

  They talked about the logistics of relocating to Birmingham and how much money they’d lose on the sale of their Eden Prairie house. Their future looked financially bleak and uncertain. Suddenly, the freezing Minnesota winters didn’t seem quite so bad after all.