5PM (13 page)

“It’s just a cartoon, son.” He smiles at me and hugs me, and I pick him up to carry him to his bed. He looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. “Mummy and Daddy are having some troubles, Isaac. We will work them out. Daddy’s not leaving.”

“I like it when you and Mummy are happy. I love you so much, Daddy.”

I place him on the mattress of his bed and cover him with a blanket. I look at his face and see a glimmer of a smile. Giving him a kiss on the forehead, I say, “I love you too, Isaac.”

Walking away, I wipe a tear from my eye and begin to wonder how I can fix everything. Can I even consider myself worthy of keeping the love of the family I hurt so much? The last twelve years have gone quick, but it’s a long time to be with someone. I can’t imagine my life without Talissa. There is nothing I would want more than to climb in next to her, holding her, and kissing her,  and then to sleep the night away together. Then to see her face first thing in the morning...

I know it won’t happen tonight, and I know they say time is the best healer, but I don’t want too much time to pass before everything is okay again. Tomorrow starts a new workweek. I will bust my balls to get the Pellmont advertising campaign underway and get a sale within a month. I’ll put in for time off and take Talissa and the kids away to an island resort somewhere. I need a rest and a bit of time to get my life back on track. I know I have so much to make up for with my wife.

Why did I let my penis make so many stupid decisions this week? I walk back to the computer and see that Babygirlblonde is now offline, and probably very pissed at me. The chat with BluesGirl88 has also been closed, and there’s a chat request from a Fiona17 waiting for me. I have absolutely no idea who she is so I decline and shut down the chat program.

I haven’t checked my emails all day, so I go in and have a look. The name I see of the last thirteen emails sends a shiver up my spine.

BluesGirl88.

I can’t look at them, so I delete each one of them, and then work through my work related emails. It takes me a good half hour to read them all and take notes of what I need to work on this coming week. Since it was a long day full of sex, drugs, and booze, I hope the notes make sense when I take them to work and go over them in my office.

A new email has arrived in that time from BluesGirl88 again. I decide perhaps I should read it.
“Terry, how many times do you have to be warned? If I can find your email address, do you think it’s hard to find your phone number? And then do you think I can’t find where you live? Say goodnight to Isaac and Matilda. I hope they sleep safely.”

Against my better judgement, I reply.
“You stay away from my family, you psychotic slut. If you so much as ring my house, I’ll have the cops on your arse in a second.”

I hear a message come through on my mobile phone a minute later, and I pick it up from my desk and read it. It’s from ‘Unknown Contact’ and says,
“You didn’t say anything about sending a text message.”

I drink the rest of the rum in my glass and fold out the sofa lounge in the study with the door wide open. I double-check the security system around the perimeter of the house and then I do a last minute check on both of my children. If that bitch tries anything tonight, I’ll be sure to wake up when the alarm is tripped.

I undress down to my underwear and lay on the sofa, my back feeling like there’s an iron bar running down along my spine. Tomorrow is sure to be a ten-cup of coffee day.

My mobile phone lights up as another SMS comes through. Once again, it’s from Unknown Contact. My hand shakes as I read the words on the screen.
“Prepare for the second worst day of your life.”

DAY 8

The worst thing
about waking up so tired on a Monday morning is to know you will have a really shit day, especially when your wife forcibly wakes you an hour before you have to be at work. She’s still angry, and the day hasn’t started well for her.

“Brittany’s mother rang and said she hasn’t heard from her daughter since yesterday morning. Apparently, she was off to see a boyfriend and hasn’t been heard from since,” Talissa says.

“Oh, shit. What do we do then?” I ask.

“I’ve already called in at work. I won’t be going in today. I’ll call the agency and see if I can line someone up for tomorrow as backup. Brittany’s mother is pretty distraught, though.”

“I’m sure she’s big enough to look after herself.”

“She’s only seventeen, Terry. She’s still a little girl.”

No way! I had sex with an underage girl? “Excuse me,” I say and make a run for the toilet and bring up what little’s left in my stomach from yesterday. I know Brittany was online somewhere yesterday, but how can I tell Talissa without bringing attention to the fact I’ve been in contact with her. And now I face the knowledge that I’m a paedophile.

“Something wrong?” Talissa calls out.

I wipe my mouth and answer, “I drank too much yesterday, it’s my own fault. I need a shower.”

“I better take you to work then. You look like crap, and we still have stuff to talk about, which we’ll do tonight.”

I’ll have to hurry. I’m looking at being late as it is, but I can’t go in smelling and looking like this.

* * * * * 

We all pack
into the car, and the first stop is Isaac’s school. Talissa and I don’t say much on the journey as we always ensure we don’t argue in front of our children, no matter the circumstances. I battle to stay awake in the car and can’t put my finger on how much sleep I actually got last night, but I know it wasn’t much. Maybe two hours of broken sleep.

Matilda is happily singing along with some of the songs on the radio, her mother joining in, too. Once again, I’m reminded of how adorable my wife is and with so much going on and knowing her husband cheated on her, she can still smile and show joy in front of our children. If I can keep her after all this mess, I won’t fuck it up again.

I close my eyes, and I see them all there in my mind looking at me—Emily, Lauren, Hannah, and Brittany. All blonde and beautiful and each of them have had sex with me. In my dream, they’re pointing and laughing at me, as I stand naked before them with nothing to cover my nudity and nowhere to run. A fifth blonde joins them and tells them to stop, and when they don’t, she pulls a sword from a scabbard and swings it in a semi-circle, slicing off each of their heads. She looks at me and tells me we can now be together once she takes care of Talissa…

I open my eyes and see the time is eight-fifty a.m., and I’m pretty sure we should make it in fifteen minutes to my workplace. Looking at my wife behind the wheel, I hold back the tears threatening to flow from them. I have to get it together. My colleagues can’t see any weakness, not even Roger.

“Why can’t you drive today, Daddy?” Matilda asks.

“Daddy didn’t sleep well, and when he doesn’t sleep well, he could have an accident,” Talissa says.

“When is Miss Brittany coming back? I like her, Mummy. She is so pretty and funny, and doesn’t even get angry when I ask her why she’s on Daddy’s computer.”

Daddy’s computer! What the hell was she doing on there?

“I’m sure she was just checking her emails or social media updates,” Talissa glances at me.

“I don’t know what that means, Mummy.”

Remaining silent on the remainder of the car trip, I breathe a sigh of relief as we stop out front of the real estate branch where I work. Standing out front and watching as we pull up, Emily smokes a cigarette.

“Is that the woman you drove home the other day?” my wife asks.

“Yes, that’s Emily.”

“And you fucked her in OUR lounge room yesterday?”

“No. And don’t we watch our language in front of our kids?”

“What does fuck mean?” Matilda asks.

“See what you did,” I point at Talissa.

“Just get out and go to work, you prick,” my wife screams at me.

I do as she says and see our little girl has started to cry. Things continue snowballing, and I try to wave to Matilda before Talissa drives away.

“Rough start to the day?” Emily calls out.

“Long story, Em. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’ve used up those pills you gave me.”

She puts out her cigarette. “Come see me after morning brief, and I’ll fix you up some more—for a price that is. I have a proposition for you, too. Would be good for both of us.”

“I don’t need more trouble. Yes, you’re sexy, and yes, I had fun the other day, but I’ve fucked up my marriage so badly. We can’t do it again.”

I open the door to the building for her. “I understand, Terry, but what I have in mind doesn’t involve sex with each other. Please, just hear me out when I tell you later.”

Her hand touches mine for a brief second as she grabs the door near me. She smiles at me then looks ahead as we make our way to the staff room. When we reach the closed door of the staff room, we stop and look at each other. She pushes ahead of me and turns the doorknob, and as we enter, the faces of Roger, Kate, George, and Phelps look back at us.

“Nice to greet us with your presence you two. Grab a coffee and take a seat. Then we’ll start the Monday briefing,” Phelps says. It’s a lucky thing Emily walked in late with me or else Phelps would probably tear me a new one.

“Sorry boss, car trouble. The wife had to drive me in,” I offer my excuse.

“Monday induced CBF,” Emily says.

“What?” Phelps asks.

“Couldn’t be fucked. I’m no good on a Monday until midday.”

Phelps opens his mouth but offers no direct comeback. Emily and I go about making our coffees as everyone else gets ready for what will probably be a boring half hour listening to Phelp’s drabble. I fill two mugs of coffee, attracting a few stares and then look at the table to see the only vacant spots are next to either Kate or Phelps. Picking the lesser of the two evils, I sit next to Kate, who offers a sad smile seeing the state I’m in.

The meeting starts with Phelps talking about sales target for the upcoming month, then Kate’s auction success on Saturday with a property achieving a twenty-thousand-dollar higher than expected purchase price, and then his request for me to follow up with the Pellmont property.

“I met with her on Friday. I can say it all went well. I’ll be dropping over some paperwork later,” I say.

Phelps nods and continues with the meeting. I tune out and Emily catches my eye sitting opposite me. She has a pen sitting on the edge of the table, and I see her nudge it off with her elbow, trying to make it look like an accident. It rolls on the floor and ends up closer to me than her.

“Oops,” she says.

“I’ll get it,” I say, and I bend down to retrieve it from the floor. Emily has her legs apart and a hand pulling her skirt up far enough for me to see that she’s wearing nothing underneath. I look away as quickly as I can and hit my head on the edge of the table as I lift to sit back up. My head throbs instantly from the solid collision with the wooden structure as if it weren’t already aching from lack of sleep and over consumption of alcohol from the day before.

Emily flashes me an evil grin. This bitch is pure sin, I wonder how the hell I can rid myself of this devil, not in a lethal way, of course. But so I don’t have to deal with her at work. I need to talk to Roger before I visit her in her office.

“Are you okay?” Kate asks me.

“Yeah, just a little
smack
to the head.”

Phelps carries on with the rest of his spiel, and I just want this day to end so I can get some sleep. I’ve already drained the first coffee, so I take a sip from the second. Maybe I could suffer a sudden heart attack and be taken to the hospital. It might also earn some sympathetic love from Talissa, and her inquest to what I did on Sunday may come to a sudden end. My mind spins some weird shit when I’m tired, and I should shut it off to these horrors.

Phelps asks Roger about his upcoming clients—a middle-aged couple selling a family home in the western suburbs in order to downsize. He has the potential to not only sell a house for the couple, but a chance to line them up with a viable selection of our own properties for sale. The boss is impressed with him, which is hardly surprising, but I don’t begrudge my friend for that.

The meeting finally comes to an end, and I refill my empty mugs with more coffee. Roger taps me on the shoulder, and this I know means he wants to have this chat. I need to do this.

I follow him and he pulls the door shut behind us. He takes his own seat, and I sit opposite the desk from him. “I did it again, Roger—three times, in fact.”

“You fucked Emily another three times? When did this happen?”

“Not Emily, another three women. There was Lauren Pellmont on Friday, a lady cop on Saturday and the babysitter yesterday. Multiple times too, each of them.”

Roger’s jaw drops. He tries multiple times to say something, and finally, just shakes his head.

“Yes, I know, Roger. I’m going to hell for this, especially the babysitter—she’s just seventeen-years-old. I could go to jail for that, Rog.” I stand up, waving my arms to emphasize what I’m saying.

“Calm down, Terry. You can get through this.” Then he frowns. “Did you say Lauren Pellmont?”

“Yeah, she seduced me in her bedroom. I passed out, and several hours later, I had to rush out of there because Talissa had rung the office to try to find me and gotten hold of Phelps, who told her where I was supposed to be.”

“Terry, excuse me, but did you say you had sex with Lauren Pellmont?”

“Yes, that’s what I said. Please try and keep up.”

“Geez, you are desperate to sell that place—she’s like seventy years old.”

What the hell is he talking about? “She was only twenty-six years old, and one hell of a hottie, Rog. I’m sure you would do her in a heartbeat.”

“There must be some mistake. The widow Lauren Pellmont is seventy years old, or close to it. There was a whole news article dedicated to her late husband, given his philanthropy and heroics back in his firefighting days. Go look it up.”

My head spins quicker than before. If the woman I had sex with isn’t the widow Pellmont, then what the hell have I done. Before I can get off my chair, Phelps bursts into the office. “Terry, my office, NOW!”

He turns around and heads back out before I can offer any kind of response. Roger looks at me. “Good luck buddy.”

“Thanks.” My legs take my unwilling body down the corridor to Phelps’s office, and I think I know what could be on the agenda for our discussion.

“Close the fucking door behind you,” Phelps says without looking up from a piece of paper, “and don’t bother sitting down.”

“What is it, Phelps?”

He looks up from his desk and stares with his little grey eyes right through me. “We have a serious problem. I just got off the phone with Mrs Pellmont, who has been away from her place for the last two weeks, only getting back home yesterday. So can you imagine her surprise when she finds brochures and a business card on her kitchen counter from our branch?”

“Sorry, boss. There’s been a big misunderstanding. I went there on Friday and this young woman said she was some sort of trophy wife for the old bugger. I took her around the house and…”

He cuts me off. “Do you not ever read the fucking news? Mr Pellmont was often seen with his dear old wife at charity events.”

“So how the hell did this blonde woman get in the house? This must be your fault as much as mine if not more. Who arranged the meeting with you?”

“It doesn’t matter. Mrs Pellmont said her bedroom was all messed up and smelt bad like people had been having sex. She’s gone so far as to threaten to get her bed sheets DNA tested.”

“I’ll make it up to her.”

“No, you won’t. She doesn’t want you anywhere near the house ever again. The only reason my branch still has the selling rights to it is because her late husband and I attended several events together, and also because I’ve assured her I’m giving George the property.”