Betrayal (30 page)

“What the
hell
is this?” Ariel shouted as Preston came into the room with Michele resting comfortably underneath his arm, like they were a couple.

At the sound of Ariel’s voice, Michele’s eyes popped wide open. Her worst nightmare was now reality. Not only had Ariel returned, but she had brought Trey with her. Obviously, they were there to tell Preston the truth. She would have to do some fast talking to get Preston to believe her. She started to confront Ariel, but decided to see how this was going to play out. Maybe Ariel and Trey wouldn’t say anything; if that was the case, then neither would she.

Preston looked from Ariel to Trey, and back again. He was shocked. He didn’t expect Ariel home for another few days, and he certainly didn’t expect to see Trey. Preston released his arm from around Michele, and pointed his finger at his wife. “And what the
hell
is this?” he shouted back. “You have the audacity to bring your lover into my house again!”

“Whoa,” Trey spoke up. “I’m not her lover, Dad.”

“Don’t sit there and lie. I know all about you and my wife!”

“Your memory is back?” Ariel and Trey said in unison. They looked at each other in amazement. It was apparent that one day Preston’s memory would return, however they didn’t expect him to conceal his recollection.

Preston walked closer to them. “Yes, it’s back, and now I know everything, thanks to Michele.”

Ariel stood up and glared at Michele. “What did she tell you?”

“The truth,” Preston spat out. “She’s the only one I can trust,” he said, looking over at his assistant.

“Preston, don’t believe anything she said. She’s a liar.” Ariel pointed her finger at Michele for emphasis.

“What?? And you’re not! To think I trusted you and
him.”
He nodded his head at Trey, as if his son was a stranger.

“Dad, please sit down, so that we can explain,” Trey pleaded.

“Don’t bother. I already know the sordid details. You betrayed me. Now get the hell out of my house, you Judas!”

Trey cast his eyes to the floor in shame. It was true. He had committed the ultimate sin by sleeping with his father’s woman, but was in no way a Judas. His actions were not premeditated. He hadn’t set out to destroy his father. “Dad, please, please let us explain exactly what happened,” he begged.

“I said don’t bother. Michele has told me everything. Now if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police and have you escorted out,” he said, crossing the room and picking up the phone.

“Did she tell you that she was in cahoots with us?” Ariel said.

Preston dropped the phone and turned toward his wife. “What did you say?”

“I said that Michele was part of the cover-up. She knew all about our affair and agreed to help us keep it a secret,” Ariel blurted out, turning the tables.

Preston swung around to face Michele, who was standing with her back against the wall, afraid to move. “Is this true?”

Pretending like she was drunk, Michele hung her head and didn’t answer. She was trying to think of a clever response, something, anything that would exonerate her, but her mind was a blank slate. The lies she had told Preston definitely wouldn’t work now that Ariel and Trey were there to dispel them—so much for fast talking.

“Michele, is this true?
!!” Preston screamed.

“She can’t answer, because she’s lying,” Trey interjected.

Preston took one look at Michele’s body language—she couldn’t even look at him—and knew instantly that she had also been deceiving
him. His head started spinning, and he felt faint. He had bought Michele’s lies without explanation, only to find out that she was playing him for a fool. Preston slumped down in one of the living room chairs from the weight of all the deception.

“Dad, you gotta believe me; I didn’t know Ariel’s identity when I first met her at the Black Door. I swear to you our affair started off innocently. I would have never even looked in her direction had I known she was your woman,” Trey said, speaking in a low tone.

“Preston, it’s true. We both had on masks, and besides we hadn’t seen each other in years. I know I was wrong for going to the club in the first place, but you had put me off so many times that I was frustrated.” Ariel knelt down in front of her husband. “Preston, I’m not trying to use that as an excuse. I know I was wrong,” she repeated. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me,” she asked, lightly touching his knee.

“Don’t touch me.” He moved his leg. “You slept with my son.
My son!”
he screamed. “How could you?”

“Preston, I swear I didn’t know who he was. You gotta believe me.”

“Okay, let’s just say that’s true, how can you explain the evening at your apartment? Michele told me she caught the two of you.” He turned to his assistant. “Or was that a lie too?”

“No, Dad, that was the truth,” Trey admitted. “That evening I had come over to Ariel’s apartment to tell her that it was over. One thing led to another, and—”

Preston cut him off. “Oh, you had to tell
her
it was over? I take it she still wanted to fuck you, even after she found out you were my son?” He looked down at his wife. “Get out of my sight. You disgust me.”

Ariel slowly stood up, then sat back down on the sofa. “Preston, please listen. It was all a huge mistake. I love you and only you,” she said, on the verge of tears.

“Yeah, right! You love me so much, not only did you fuck my son, you lied about it, and then after I lost my memory, had the gall to walk down the aisle in a white dress and recite vows in front of God
and all of our friends, knowing damn well that every word you recited that day was a lie!”

He spoke with such venom in his voice that Ariel was taken aback. In all the years that she had known Preston, she had never seen him this angry. His face contorted with every word that came out of his mouth, causing him to look like a different person. This wasn’t the sweet man that always had her best interest at heart. No, this man was completely different—a stranger. “Preston, my vows were not a lie. I meant every word,” she said, in an attempt to sway him.

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!”
he screamed. “I’ve had enough of your lies.” He then focused on his son. “I just want to know one thing. I remember getting the fax from Senator Oglesby saying that you owned the Black Door, and him telling me that I could forget about any chance of securing the nomination because of your club, but here I am a justice. How did that happen?”

“Dad, I knew that sitting on the high court was your lifelong dream, and I wasn’t going to let my involvement with the Black Door stand in the way of that, so I called in a favor,” Trey said, preferring to leave out the details.

“Are you telling me you had to blackmail somebody, so that I could secure the nomination?” Preston asked, reading between the lines.

“Let’s just say I persuaded someone to do the right thing. And you sitting on the Supreme Court
is
the right thing.”

Preston couldn’t believe his ears. Not only had he been betrayed by the people closest to him, he had won the nomination not by his own merit, but by unsavory methods. “Who else knows about this?”

“Only Senator Oglesby,” Trey said, purposely leaving out Angelica’s name. He wanted to spare his father further embarrassment. He didn’t want him thinking that other people knew how he had won the nomination.

“I feel like such a fraud,” Preston said, shaking his head.

“Please, honey, don’t say that. You’re a brilliant man, with a stellar career, and if anybody deserves to sit on the Supreme Court, you do,” Ariel said, trying to redeem herself.

“Don’t call me
honey!”
he snapped. Preston closed his eyes, as if trying to digest everything that had been said.

Trey, Ariel, and Michele were all quiet. They watched Preston and waited. Michele had been busted big-time and knew that she didn’t have a leg to stand on. She wanted to flaunt her affair with Preston in Ariel’s face, but at this point, it wouldn’t do any good. Preston didn’t trust her anymore.

There was no doubt that Ariel’s marriage was over. The way Preston glared at her with such hate, she knew that they didn’t stand a chance of reconciling. She expected the fallout to be serious, but she was completely disillusioned, thinking that Preston loved her so much, that in time he would forgive her. Obviously, she was wrong. She now understood the reason for the coldness that she had felt earlier; it was like the house was trying to forewarn her.

Trey felt lower than a snake’s belly. It was etched in the “Man law” Bible that friends didn’t fuck other friends’ exes, let alone family dipping into another relative’s cookie jar. Trey had pleaded his case, and didn’t have anything else to say. He only hoped that the bloodline he and his father shared would take precedence over his ultimate act of betrayal.

Preston opened his eyes and glanced around the room at each and every one of them. “Get the hell out. I want all of you to get the hell out of my house,” he said, in a low, hushed tone, almost a whisper.

Though it was her home too, Ariel didn’t protest. The least she could do at this point was to give Preston his space. She wearily walked to the front door, with Trey following behind. Michele brought up the rear, as they all filed out of the town house, each feeling as guilty as sin.

The moment Preston heard the front door shut, he dropped his head in his hands and wept like a newborn. His world as he knew it was over, and now he was left with the aftermath.

EARLIER IN
the evening, Michele had pretended to be drunk; now her sole mission was to actually get smashed. On the way home in a taxi—since her car was still parked at the restaurant—Michele told the cabdriver to stop by the liquor store. To her dismay, it was closed. She thought about going into a bar and lining up a few shots of tequila, but she didn’t want to get pissy drunk in public, and then have to do the walk of shame past her doorman. She preferred to drown her pain in private—that way she could drink excessively, and pass out on the sofa without anyone knowing—so she had him take her home instead.

Upstairs in her apartment, Michele went straight into the kitchen, dropped her purse on the counter, and snatched open the refrigerator. It was practically bare, except for a container of Chinese take-out from two nights ago, a half-empty carton of orange juice, and a bottle of Prosecco. She had blown her budget on the designer evening gown for the Congressional Black Caucas affair, as well as on the expensive chemise. She couldn’t afford Veuve—her favorite—so the sparkling Italian wine would have to do since that was the only liquor she had in the house. She opened the bottle and tilted it up to
her mouth. Michele didn’t bother getting a glass, instead guzzling straight from the bottle. She wanted a quick buzz, so that she wouldn’t have to feel the sting of Preston’s words still ringing in her ears, over and over.

“
Michele, is this true?”
he had screamed at her, once Ariel told him that Michele was in on the entire scheme. She was so stunned by his ranting that she was afraid to speak. Preston’s demeanor was normally mild and understanding, but the way he lashed out at her was as if he were a different person. She thought that having sex with him would have softened his disposition with her, but she was dead wrong. Once Preston learned that she had also been lying to him, he really lost his temper. At that moment, all of Michele’s conniving plans vanished as if they had never existed. There was nothing that she could say or do to redeem herself, so she just stood against the wall like a deaf mute and listened in horror as Preston learned the ugly truth.

“Maybe once he cools down, I’ll say that I was trying to spare him the gory details of what had happened,” she said aloud between gulps, still trying to find a way to wiggle back into his bed.

She was three-quarters finished with the sparkling wine when she heard a knock at the door. Michele’s heart leaped into her chest. “Preston!” she whispered. Maybe he had had a change of heart, and had come by to commiserate. She put the bottle down, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and hurried to the front of the apartment. She pulled open the door without looking out of the peephole. “Pres—” she started to say, but stopped.

“Hello, Michele.”

“Laird, what are you doing here? And how did you get past the doorman without him calling up to announce you?”

“I got clout all over this city and know what to say to get into just about anywhere I want,” he said, easing past her into the apartment. “Besides, you said to stop by later in the week, so here I am. I bought champagne,” he said, as if that was his entry fee into her apartment, and handed her a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé.

Michele took the bottle and closed the door. She stood back and
watched as Laird strolled into her living room and made himself comfortable on her sofa. He took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie as if he were at home. Michele started to ask him to leave, but after the rejection she had experienced earlier, she wanted to feel desired. And though Laird wasn’t the man she craved, he would do for the time being.

She went into the kitchen and came back with two flutes. Michele sat the bottle on the cocktail table, removed the foil and wire, then twisted the cork off. She poured them each a glass, and sat down.