Betrayal (13 page)

“I was taking a siesta.”

“Really?” She looked at him strangely. “It’s not like you to sleep during the day.” Michele had been working with Preston for over a year, and during that time she’d never known him to take a nap.

“I take them on Sundays from time to time, but today was a rare occasion. I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he explained.

“Why? Did you have a late night out with the boys?” she joked.

Preston flashed back to the reason why he had had a restless
night. The dream instantly played back in his mind like a bad porno movie. He thought about whether or not to tell Michele. On the one hand, he wanted to discuss the dream to get another person’s opinion of what it meant, but then again, he knew it was just his guilt working overtime. “No, nothing like that. Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

“About what?” Michele asked, still standing in the doorway.

“Well …” he hesitated, knowing that what he was about to say would sound ridiculous, but maybe if he talked about it, he wouldn’t have any more recurring nightmares. Before he could tell her the reason for his sleeplessness, the telephone rang.

Michele quickly walked to the edge of his desk, and picked up the receiver. “Good afternoon. Justice Hendricks’s office, Michele speaking. How may I assist you?”

“Hello Michele, what a pleasure hearing your voice.”

“Good afternoon, Congressman Forester,” she said, ignoring his seductive tone.

She covered the phone with her hand, and mouthed to Preston “Do you want to take this call?”

His first thought was to have Michele say that he was in a meeting, but he knew there was no reason why he shouldn’t talk to Laird; it wasn’t like the man had actually slept with his wife. “Yes, I’ll take it.”

“Hold on, please. He’ll be right with you.” She pressed the hold button, picked up the contents of Preston’s out-box, and left. Her hands were full of mail, so she couldn’t close the door behind her.

“Laird, what can I do for you?”

“You seemed a little annoyed this morning, and I was calling to make sure everything is okay.”

Preston was indeed annoyed with Laird, but for no good reason. He wanted to get over his unfounded feelings, so he told Laird about the dream—sans the nasty details.

As he was confessing his subconscious, Michele was at the door listening. She had gotten up to close his door, but when she heard Preston say that he dreamed Ariel was having an affair, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her first thought was that his memory had
returned. She stood on the side of the door, out of his eyesight, and continued listening.

Laird let out a loud roar. “Now that’s preposterous. You know how dreams are—one minute you’re seeing snowflakes fall in the middle of July, and the next thing you’re an undercover agent for the secret service looking for terrorist cells.”

“That’s true. I think it’s just a result of my experience at the restaurant.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Well, let me put your mind at ease. I may be a dog, but I draw the line at sleeping with someone else’s wife, let alone yours. All my lovers are free and single.”

“That’s good to know.”

They chatted for a few more minutes and then ended their conversation.

Michele was disappointed. She wanted to hear more about Preston’s dream, but he ended his conversation before elaborating further. She sat back at her desk and couldn’t help but think that Preston’s short-term memory was returning. She picked up the phone to call Trey, but got his voice mail. Michele hung up. She realized that there was really nothing to tell. She would just keep an eye on Preston for any sudden changes in his personality. Besides, she thought that it would be in her best interest if Preston’s memory returned with Ariel out of the house. At least that way she would be able to paint the truth in her own colors.

TREY WAS
spending the afternoon with Mason Anthony, the manager of the Black Door Two, the sister club located in the meatpacking district. BD2 catered to a younger, hipper crowd, and membership was thriving thanks to Mason’s ingenuity. He had created new theme rooms that didn’t exist in the main club, and the members loved the Mani/Pedi Spa suite where they could get toe-sucking pedicures and finger-licking manicures. They also loved reciting poetry in the Naked Poet Sanctuary. The Disco was a throwback to Studio 54, where members partied hard until daylight, and was a huge hit.

They were meeting at the driving range in Chelsea Piers, a sports and entertainment complex located along the West Side Highway, near Chelsea. Trey arrived first and went to the upper level that overlooked the Hudson River toward New Jersey. The view was scenic, with boats cruising up and down the river and houses dotting the shoreline along the Jersey side. He went inside the netted cage, took out his Big Bertha, and began practicing his swing. Trey had recently taken up golf, and was a natural. His form was perfect. He gripped the club, placing his right hand over his left, dropped his head, and
with his eyes focused on the little white ball, he angled his body and swung. The dimpled ball sailed over the netting, and hung high in the air, before sinking into the murky waters of the Hudson.

“Tiger, better watch out,” Mason said, clapping his hands as he entered the cage next to Trey’s.

“Yeah, you better tell him that I got game.” Trey laughed.

“The way you’re swinging, you’ll be ready for the PGA tour in a few years.”

“Years?” Trey wrinkled his nose. “I’ll be ready to sport that green jacket by next summer,” he said with a straight face, even though he knew he was nowhere near pro material.

After their jousting, the two men concentrated on perfecting their swing, and after an hour of practicing, they packed up their clubs and headed downstairs. Instead of having lunch at the Lighthouse, the restaurant located on the pier, which served mostly seafood, they headed over to the east side. They were in the mood for a juicy burger at Jackson Hole, so they tossed their golf bags in Trey’s Range Rover and drove over to Third Avenue. A half an hour later, they were seated in the restaurant, ready to chow down.

“Man, these burgers are so big, feels like I’m eating a small calf,” Mason commented as he wrapped his hands around the mammoth hamburger.

“Yeah, Jackson Hole is known for the size of their burgers,” Trey agreed, biting into his own petite cow.

“So, man, I hear that you’ve been rocking Lexi’s world,” Mason said, picking up a napkin and wiping mayo from the corners of his mouth.

Trey looked at him strangely. “And how did you know that?” He hadn’t breathed a word of their affair, and had planned on keeping it under wraps, since technically he still had a girlfriend.

“Didn’t you know that Lexington and Terra are best friends? Women are like sieves; they can’t hold water. They talk about
everything,”
he said with emphasis.

Trey knew that Mason was dating Terra Benson, the tobacco heiress, but he didn’t know that Lexi and Terra were friends. Truth
be told, he didn’t know much about Lexi. They had only fucked once, and not much talking had taken place during that time. All Lexi seemed to want was sex, and he was totally on board with that program. He wasn’t looking for a commitment, just somebody to screw every now and then when Michele wasn’t around. “No, man, I didn’t know they were friends.”

“Well, from what she’s been telling Terra, I’d say you got the girl’s nose wide open,” he said, ribbing his friend.

Trey blushed. He didn’t like his business in the street, but he trusted Mason to keep his mouth shut. “Just so you know, I didn’t plan on fucking a client. As a matter of fact, when she came on to me at Hirschfield Multimedia’s grand opening, I turned her down flat. But she called me at the club recently and invited me to come down to the Leopard Lounge. She looked so good that I just couldn’t resist, but, hey … a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

Mason was also at the grand opening, but he was preoccupied with Terra. They had broken up, but that night reconciled their differences. They kissed, made up, and made love in one of the private offices to commemorate the moment. “I totally understand,” Mason said, thinking back to that night over a year ago. “And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” As they were eating, Trey’s cell phone rang. He took the phone out of his pocket, and looked at the caller ID. It was Michele. He didn’t feel like talking to her. He was still a little pissed that she had blown him off to go to a party. He pressed the reject button to send her call to voice mail. No sooner had he put the phone back into his pocket than it rang again. He took it back out, and looked at the screen; it was Michele calling back, and once more he forwarded her call to voice mail. He didn’t feel like listening to another one of her lame apologies, so he turned the phone off before she had a chance to call a third time.

“Man, somebody’s blowing up your phone,” Mason commented.

“That somebody would be Michele.”

“Man, when are you finally going to give that girl her walking papers?” Mason knew that Trey was no longer into Michele—if he
were, he would have never slept with Lexi—and didn’t understand why he kept her hanging on.

He exhaled and said, “Soon, man, soon.” Though Mason was a good friend, Trey had never told him the real reason why he was still involved with Michele. He was embarrassed to say that he had gotten caught feasting on his future stepmother’s breasts, and that he was stringing Michele along so that she wouldn’t tell his father the truth.

“Well, in my experience, I’ve found it’s better to drop the deadweight before it drowns you.”

Trey nodded his head in agreement, because that’s exactly how he was feeling, like he was drowning, and Michele was the weight that was taking him under.

MICHELE KEPT HITTING
redial, but Trey’s phone went right into voice mail, a clear indication that he had turned off his cell. She was so frustrated that she slammed her phone on the desk. She needed to talk to him, but for some reason he was ignoring her, and it pissed her off. Michele wanted to tell Trey about his dad’s dream. Somewhere in the recesses of Preston’s mind, he was probably beginning to recall what had happened, and she decided to give Trey a heads-up.

She called the club, since he wasn’t answering his cell phone, but the answering machine picked up. “Trey, call me as soon as possible; it’s important,” she said after the beep.

Michele started to dial Ariel’s cell phone, but stopped.
Why should I tell her anything? Especially since she’s planning on having me fired
. Michele knew that Ariel despised her, and she felt the same way.

She thought for a few minutes, and realized that it wasn’t her decision to keep the truth from Preston in the first place. Trey and Ariel had basically forced her into secrecy. She only went along with the program because she was in love with Trey, and she thought that he was in love with her. A year ago, he was the doting boyfriend, catering to her every need. But now they were growing apart at a rapid pace. In the beginning of their relationship, she had hopes of
one day marrying Trey—not anymore. She had been attracted to his physical being before getting to know him as a person, and now that the sheets had cooled off, she realized that she wanted more than just great sex.

Michele suddenly started to feel trapped. She had been forced to keep Preston in the dark; now she didn’t see the sense in keeping her end of the deal any longer. She and Trey were drifting apart, and Ariel was going to have her kicked to the curb—that is, unless she helped Preston remember and then gave him her version of the truth. This, of course, would make her out to be as much of a victim as him. Michele would tell Preston that they made her lie. The more she thought about this idea, the more she liked it. As she sat there and plotted, another lightbulb went off in her head.

With a little prodding, I bet I can jog his memory
. Michele smiled at that thought. With Ariel in New York, she’d have more than enough time to weave her magic. Michele had been looking for the perfect person to usher her into the elite circle, and who better than a Supreme Court justice to give her validation? Once she exposed Ariel for the liar she was, Preston would no doubt divorce her without a second thought, and she would be there to help lick his wounds. Michele had never looked at her boss romantically, and wasn’t attracted to older men, but she was attracted to what they offered. Preston was powerful, rich, and sophisticated, and that combination was an enticing aphrodisiac. Michele was no fool, and realized that her relationship with Trey was dead in the water. It was time to move on, and she didn’t have a problem moving from son to father. After all, if Trey could have an affair with his father’s fiancée, then why couldn’t she flip the script and fuck Preston?

ARIEL WAS
on her way to meet a client and was running late. Traffic in midtown was at a standstill. There was an accident in one of the lanes, causing a major backup with buses, taxis, and cars lined bumper-to-bumper like a giant parking lot. She was tempted to get out and walk, but after the cab inched past the crash scene, traffic began to move again. She sat back and breathed a sigh of relief, but the flow only lasted for five blocks before the cars jammed up again. This time, instead of a fender bender, a bicycle messenger had fallen and spilled a backpack full of packages in the street. Some pedestrians stopped to help him retrieve the items, thus slowing traffic even more. Ariel looked at her watch; it was a quarter to three. Her appointment was in fifteen minutes, and they still had ten blocks to go.
I can run faster than this taxi is moving
, she thought.