Derailed (40 page)

“Jeez!” I scratch the back of my neck.

She looks at me. “Oh, no, look what I’ve done – I’ve really embarrassed you.”

“Nah, I’m alright,” I lie, suspecting she may be hitting on me.

She smiles. “Let’s just say…” her face tilts to the ceiling, “you were amazing, and when I awoke, I was disappointed that it was a dream.”

She was disappointed? Seriously? Shit, I think she is hitting on me!

She nods.

“I…I dunno know what to say.” I think she may be hitting on me.

She smiles at my discomfort and tops our glasses. As I drink, my phone vibrates. I dig into my pocket for it. 

“Rival?” Scarlett asks, licking the rim of her glass again, her eyes fixed on my face.

“Nah. Rival’s history. It’s Liefie. Probably looking for me. Kids…” I take the call.

It isn’t Liefie, it’s Arena telling me that Rival isn’t invited to the funeral tomorrow. Her request to attend was declined. Now I’m deeply bothered.

“Okay,” I say and hang up.

“Rival’s history?” Scarlett asks. “Really?”

With a nod, I get up and prepare to leave. 

“So soon?” She gets up as well and follows me to the door. 

“See you tomorrow?” I say as we face each other at the entrance. 

“Yes, and thank you for your support,” she says before she leans in and gives me a hug. “I really appreciate it, Ritchie.” The way she says my name is…different. Even her hug is different – I’m really taken aback with the way she presses her body against mine. I’m aware of her breasts, her thighs and her perfume. To be honest, it’s a little intoxicating. But highly inappropriate. Bradley has not been buried yet.  

RITCHIE

It’s the day of Bradley’s funeral. I, together with Bear, Arena, Liefie, Vlad, Holly, and Phoebe are attending. All except Rival. Of course she’s terribly distraught. My sister tells me that she’s been crying all of yesterday and is now unable to get out of bed. Not knowing what to do, and feeling really helpless, I focus on Holly and Phoebe.

Together with Girly, Arena dresses them in the little dresses Scarlett couriered over for them to wear to the funeral.

Concerned for Rival, and now angry at Scarlett for putting her through this anguish, I go to see her.

“I’m sorry ’bout the funeral and stuff,” I say, sitting on the edge of Rival’s bed.

“Thanks,” she mutters, wiping her eyes.

“Can I get you anything?”

“I’m okay,” she says.

It’s weird that we’re talking to each other like strangers, considering we shared a bed for almost a year. Considering we planned our future together. The rift between us is so huge and irreparable, it will take a miracle to shrink. A bout of sadness hits me.   

“We have to leave now,” I say. “But I will keep an eye on the girls.”

She nods.

I walk to the door. At the door I turn and look at Rival. For a few moments we lock eyes. Then I walk back, take her in my arms, and hug her. She hugs me back really hard, and somehow, I feel her apology in her hug. She’s stubborn, so I don’t expect an outright apology from her. “I’m sorry things turned out the way it did,” I say, taking the high road.

“Me too,” she whispers.   

I extract myself from her grasp and leave with her girls.

When we arrive at Scarlett’s house, I knock and enter her bedroom with both girls. To my surprise, Scarlett looks really good – sexy, black knee-length dress, high heels, and a black hat with a net.

“Don’t you both look lovely,” she says to the girls.

Both girls cling to my legs.

“Except for this,” Scarlett says, reaching for the photo album Holly clutches.

Holly swings it out of reach.

“Holly, you can’t possibly take that with. It’s old and tattered and…look at it – it spoils your princess outfit.”

Holly shakes her head from side to side. 

“I’ll let you paint your nails?”

Holly doesn’t respond.

“I’ll buy you a toy?”

Holly remains tightlipped, the photo album firmly in her grasp.

“HOLLY!” Scarlett snaps. “Give me that goddamn album!”

“No!” Holly cries. “Will not!”

Scarlett lunges at Holly, but I step between them. “I’ll handle this,” I whisper to Scarlett.

“It’s going to ruin our outfits,” Scarlett says.

I don’t get it – the kid is clutching onto her only tie with her dead father and Scarlett’s worried about her outfit? But I’m not going to chastise Scarlett in any way because I have other plans. I take the kids outside her bedroom and hand them to Scarlett’s sisters, Cassie and Dina, who seem like nice people. When I go back inside the room, Scarlett is in front of the mirror touching up her makeup. 

“You look good,” I say.

She turns her body to look at me.

“You do.”

She smiles.

“Not too much like a widow,” I say with a chuckle.

“I hope not. I’m sick of black, Ritchie.”

“Yeah, but…it looks good on you. I’ve never seen such a good-looking widow before.”

She beams. “Join me for a drink?”

I look at my wrist watch. “It’s 9:45 a.m., Scarlett.”

Her response is to walk over to a cabinet, remove a bottle of vodka, and pour two doubles. She walks over to me, stands close enough for me to smell, not just her perfume but also her scent, and hands me one. “Heard you like Russians, so…” she smiles, “
Nas da roveie!”

“Used to,” I say with a smile. “Now it’s Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!” I knock back the neat vodka. “Good…shit,” I croak. 

“You like it? I have more.”

“Later.”

“For sure.” She remains where she is and looks into my eyes.

“Mrs. Murdoch?” a voice calls.

“Just a moment!” Scarlett says. Quickly, she shoves the vodka bottle and glasses into the cabinet, pulls off her hat and flings it onto the bed, and races over to the window. “Come in,” she calls in a forlorn voice.

The funeral director enters the room and finds Scarlett staring out of the window, her eyes filled with tears. “How are you doing, my dear?” she asks in a tender voice.

Scarlett lifts and drops her shoulders. Then shakes her head, her bottom lip trembling.

Wow! Is she for real?

The moment the funeral lady leaves, I pick up her hat from the bed and place it on her head.

She smiles. I tuck a few stray strands behind her ears.

“Your eyes, they’re really blue,” she says.

I shrug, and for a few moments, we stand in silence.

“You need to let Rival attend the funeral,” I say, my hands resting lightly on her shoulders. 

Her smile vanishes.

“People are starting to feel really sorry for her,” I continue, increasing my grip on her shoulders. “That means they’re not feeling sorry for you. That’s not smart.”

She cocks her head at me.

“Show nobility.” My hand moves to cup her face. Her lips turn toward my hand, while her hands move to rest on my waist.

“Just five minutes or so,” I say, dropping my voice to a whisper and pulling her in for a hug. “Okay?”

“Five minutes only,” she finally whispers.

“Good girl.”

I hold her back so she can see my smile. Fire with fire—that’s the only way when it comes to Scarlett. Can’t wait to call Rival and tell her the good news.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

RIVAL

I’ve never dressed so fast in my life – quickly I throw on a black dress, a pair of black pantyhose and a set of pearls. Five minutes. That’s all I will have at Bradley’s funeral, but it will have to do.

I race over to the funeral and struggle to find a parking spot, but the parking lot is packed with cars. I locate Bear’s Mercedes and double park behind it, then race inside the venue. With each step, my anxiety grows. Taking several deep breaths, I gear up to see Bradley for the last time. 

It’s a state funeral, and the hall is crammed with people I don’t know. The moment I enter the room, buzzing rolls through the room like a Mexican wave –
There’s Bradley’s killer.

I’m intimidated. By the venue, the people, the umpteen cameras recording the funeral and the flashing lights of the cameras. It’s not the way I envisioned a funeral to be.

I glance at Scarlett, sitting with my girls on either side of her, wearing matching dresses and little hats, pretending she’s their mother. The white handkerchief in her hand is a great prop, and she plays the part of the grieving widow to a hilt. Ignoring the accusing looks from everyone, I try to stay focused and move ahead.

Even though I know what to expect at a funeral, the sight of the coffin stops me in my tracks. Straight away, tears gush down my cheeks. Ritchie rushes to my side and helps me forward. Even though only a small section of his face is visible and even though he looks ashen, Bradley still looks handsome. He looks at peace. Phoebe runs up and clings to my legs. Holly doesn’t.

As I look at the pale face of the man I was once devoted to, the man who shared all his dreams with me, I take comfort in his final words to me, the words of George Jean Nathan that are carved in my mind:
“A man reserves his true and deepest love…”

Then I talk to Bradley.

I’m sorry, Bradley. I know you got distracted and did things that were out of character, but I believed you would come around, and you did. It was what you did in the end that mattered most to me – you set me free, you gave me your blessing and you acted totally unselfishly. I will always remember and take comfort in that. I once loved you the most in the world. Now, I will love you forever. I will never forget you and I will make sure our beautiful daughters never forget you too. Goodbye Bradley. I love you.

Five minutes. I lean in, kiss my ex-husband’s face.
Goodbye Bradley.

As I start to leave, Ritchie guides me out, his arm around my shoulders. 

“You gonna be okay?” he asks as he walks me to my car.

I nod and wipe away tears. “T…thanks for making this possible.”

He gives a dismissive wave.

“Look after my girls, okay?”

“Of course,” he says.

After one last glance behind me, I get into my car and drive off.

SCARLETT

I regret holding the wake at my home. These people will not leave. I can’t wait for it to be over. In the meantime, I do my bit and shake people’s slimy hands. Why didn’t anyone think of an anti-bacterial spray?

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Be strong.”

“Sure. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“That was really big of you, Mrs. Murdoch, to allow that psycho who killed your husband to attend the funeral.”

Finally, someone with something concrete to say. My shoulders lift and drop. “Thank you. Try not to hold grudges.” I hope that was self-effacing enough.

“Well, nobody would have blamed you if you refused to, Scarlett. But again, we all have newfound respect for you.”

I smile inwardly. Ritchie was right after all. He’s smarter than I thought. Can’t wait for all these fuckers gorging on the free food and drinks to leave so we both can be alone.

The moment there is a lull in hugs and handshakes, I quietly sneak into my bedroom and shut the door. I remove a small water bottle and take a sip of the vodka I poured in it earlier on.  As I drink, there’s is a knock at my door. Fuck! Can’t a girl get a little privacy?  But wait – what if it’s Ritchie?

“Come in,” I say in a honeyed voice.

Cassie and Dina enter my room. Fuck!  

“We just want to tell you how sorry we are for your loss,” Cassie says, wringing her hands.

“And we brought you a glass of wine,” Dina says, thrusting a glass of red wine at me.

“What, did you spit in it?” I ask in a sneering voice.

“No, no, no!” Dina says, sounding wounded. “Annie, I know we’ve had our differences, but today, now, I am genuinely sorry.” Her eyes become liquid. 

“Oh, fuck off, will you? And FYI, it’s Scarlett, okay?”

Dina jerks back.

“Ann…I mean, Scarlett,” Cassie says, her hand on her chest, “it’s not like that. We are so sorry. That night before the murder, we realized that we were wrong about the two of you. Bradley, he…he really loved you and it showed and…” Tears stream down my pudgy sibling’s face.

“Too late, sister blister! You were wrong and I was right, so…” I throw open the door, “get your fat arses out of my sight.”

Both bitches remain where they are.

“Go on, get out! I don’t have all day. Take your last season’s Target shoes and move it!” 

“Annie, I mean Scarlett,” Cassie says in a soothing voice, “we are genuine about –”

“Genuine my arse! You bought that house to show me up, didn’t you? Think I didn’t figure that out? You wanted to steal my thunder and that’s why you bought that house.”

“No, no, no! Bevan’s grandfather left him some money when he died. That’s how we

could –”

“Stop lying, you piece of ugly shit!”

Dina steps forward. “Scarlett, calm –”

“You shut your mouth!” I snarl. “Buying that Mercedes to compete with me. Huh? Do you really think your second-hand Merc is going to impress anyone? I drive a fucking Porsche, didn’t you get the memo? A brand
new
Porsche. Hello?”

Dina shakes her head, opens her mouth to speak, but shuts it again.

“What’s better than a brand new Porsche?
Two
brand new Porsches! Put that in your pipes and smoke it, bitches!”

Dina and Cassie exchange helpless looks.

“Let’s go,” Dina says.

I slam the door behind their fat arses. Whores! Bitches!

My father, who doesn’t believe in knocking, throws open the door and enters the room. “Annie, what’s going on? Why are your sisters crying?”

They’re at a fucking wake, that’s why.

“Cassie and Dina are being so mean, Daddy,” I say in a tearful voice. “I just lost my husband, yet they are so insensitive. Why do they torment me like this? All the time?”

“Okay, okay, I will have a word with them.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”