G-Men: The Series (3 page)

“Okay,” she had acquiesced, “I’ll go get it and meet you at your house later.”

‘Later’ had turned out to be the following morning before school. I’d called Becky telling her that my father had gotten home from work earlier than usual. He was taking Mom and me out for steaks at The Elite Cafe downtown. It was his favorite restaurant. He insisted on taking us there at least once a month. Mom was simply tickled that he’d gotten home early, for once.

I’d driven my car over to pick Becky up for school, as I’d done every morning since getting my driver’s license.

I had held my pee, just as she had instructed me to do, in order to get the most accurate reading. I had covered my mouth to stifle my screams as the result came through loud and clear: knocked up.

My father is going to kill me.

My trip down memory lane was interrupted when I heard the sound of our garage door opening. Jack was home. I hurried to put the finishing touches on dinner.

I heard him talking as he came in through the garage to the family room. Our house had two stories with a loft from the second floor. Our master suite was the loft. The house was only two years old, and I hadn’t finished decorating it yet. Jack had been on me about that, telling me I procrastinated far too much, and reminding me that most women would love to furnish and decorate such a gorgeous house with no worries about money or the confines of a budget.

I figured he was probably on his cell phone talking work on his way up until I realized the conversation was live. I heard a female voice laugh coyly at something he must’ve said.

Who the hell is with him?

“Sammie,” he called out from the main hallway.

“I’m in the kitchen, Jack.”

He entered the kitchen, setting his briefcase inside the door. A tall but petite, well-manicured woman was following behind him. She had perfect features, perfect make-up and she was dressed in a dark grey business suit that was tailored to accent her slim, yet shapely, figure. Her long, blonde hair flowed well past her shoulders. She had exquisite eyes. They were a mixture of greenish blue, almost a deep grey color to match her business suit.

“Sammie,” he repeated, “I want you to meet Susan Reynard, my new administrative assistant at the office.”

Oh, fucking great.

“It’s Samantha,” I replied, pasting what I hoped was a sincere-looking smile on my face as I held out my hand to clasp hers. “Very pleased to meet you, Susan.”

She afforded me a smile, showing perfectly even, white teeth. Naturally, her nails were professionally manicured and matched the shade of lipstick she was wearing on her full, pouty lips.

“Samantha,” she purred, “It’s such a pleasure meeting you as well. Your husband told me what a beautiful home you have here and he sure wasn’t exaggerating.”

“Yes,” he remarked, “if only I could motivate Sammie to finish furnishing it. Hey, perhaps Susan could help with some ideas on what the house needs to bring it all together. She’s done an awesome job on my office.”

“Oh, Mr. Dennison,” she gushed, almost blushing, “I just narrowed the choices down. You made the ultimate selection. Your husband has great taste by the way.”

“Now, Susan,” Jack admonished with a smile, “There’ll be none of this
Mr. Dennison
stuff. It’s Jack.”

“Yes, Jack,” she replied obediently. “I keep forgetting.”

I felt like a voyeur watching their interaction as I remained clueless as to why she was even here. I was hoping my husband was going to clue me in.

“Sammie,” he said, as if sensing my curiosity, “I invited Susan to dinner. We have some work to finish up and I thought we might as well work here in my office. I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, babe.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” I lied. “I’ll just set another place.”

“Can I help?” Susan asked.

“Everything’s done,” I replied. “All that’s left is to take our places.”

Dinner was strained. I felt like an intruder on both the small talk and office talk between Jack and Susan. She looked to be about in her mid-thirties, if that. She certainly hung on Jack’s every word. I tuned them out, resuming my jog down memory lane.

I thought back to the ugly scene that had taken placed when I’d informed my parents that I was pregnant.

“I didn’t even know you were
dating
anyone,” my father had blurted out in pure confusion. “Why haven’t we met the boy?”

My mother had been less vocal, simply wringing her hands, like she always did when my father was upset or displeased about something. She constantly ran interference when I had occasion to disappoint him.

I hadn’t been sure how to explain what had happened without fear of my father hunting Jack down and killing him in cold blood. I merely told them that we were both drunk one night and it just sort of happened. In other words, I mostly lied. I had been stone cold sober at the time.

I remember my father’s face turning red. He’d been livid about my behavior.

“No daughter of mine is going to be regarded as some party tramp,” he bellowed. “I want the name and address of this boy, and I want it now! He’ll damn well make this right. I’ll see to that.”

“Now, Sidney,” my mother had whined, “Keep calm, remember your blood pressure.”

Six weeks later, Jack Dennison and I had been married in a small civil ceremony in a judge’s chambers. The judge was one of my father’s closest friends.

Jack had been able to graduate high school with his class.

My parents gave us a seven-day cruise for our honeymoon. They purchased a two-bedroom condo for us as a wedding gift, and Jack was given an entry level position in the office of my father’s company. My father had fixed the situation for us. He had a knack of doing just that. Unfortunately, no amount of my father’s power or influence could force Jack to love me.

“Sammie? Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking the memories of our shotgun wedding out of my mind for now. “What did you say, Jack?”

“I wondered if you made dessert.”

“Of course, Boston crème pie,” I replied, getting up to clear the dinner plates.

“Oh, none for me thanks,” Susan said. “I ate too much as it was. I’ll have to work out twice as long tomorrow morning.”

I watched as Jack openly admired his assistant’s physique.

“Speaking of which,” he said, “Susan belongs to a great fitness club just a couple miles north of here, Sammie. Perhaps you two could meet mornings and work out together?”

That was Jack’s not-so-subtle way of reminding me that I needed to get into shape. He worked out faithfully each day. Sometimes in the morning before work he stopped at his men’s club and sometimes after work. His physique was perfect.

“Maybe I will,” I replied. It was my standard reply to his nagging. If it shut him up for a day or two, then it worked.

After dessert, they both took mugs of coffee and went to Jack’s office, which was on the second floor. I cleaned up the kitchen, thankful that I didn’t have to continue to make small talk and observe Jack’s beautiful and shapely assistant. Maybe it was time I did focus on myself. Our daughter Lindsey had encouraged me before she left for Cornell to do just that.

“Mom, you never do anything just for you,” she’d stated. “It pisses me off, too.”

“Why would it piss you off?”

“Because Daddy indulges himself and you never do anything just for you.”

I’d argued that her father loved working out, buying new clothes for himself, and preening about. I just wasn’t sure I would get that much enjoyment or satisfaction from it.

“At least you should try,” she argued. “You need a hobby of some sort, besides looking after me and Daddy, especially now that I’m going away. I worry about you, Mom.”

“I’ll be fine, Lindsey. I swear that I’ll find something outside of the home to do once you’re gone, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Lindsey,” I’d replied, laughing. “You do realize that you’re a nag, right?”

I wiped the countertop off, thinking about my beautiful daughter. I missed her terribly. I knew that I would. We were close, very close. She’d made everything over the years worth it. Jack loved her - that was abundantly clear. Maybe that was all I could have hoped for under the circumstances.

I’d wanted more children, but Jack wouldn’t budge on that topic. He’d gotten a vasectomy when Lindsey was seven years old, due to my pressuring him for another. He came home one day and said I could put my diaphragm away (not that it had gotten much use anyway). He’d taken care of the problem, stating that one child was enough.

Jack had come from a family of four children. They’d struggled financially. He’d been the oldest and when his father had taken off when he was just twelve years old, he’d borne a lot of the responsibility while his mother worked two jobs. She’d finally remarried when Jack was sixteen, but by then, he’d had his fill of caring for his younger siblings. He hadn’t gotten on with his stepfather either. Even now, he had very little to do with his family.

The phone rang. I picked it up in the kitchen.

“Busy?”

“Hi Bec, just finished up the dinner dishes. What’s up?”

“Not much. George is in Chicago on business for a couple of days. I wondered if you wanted to hang out tomorrow. I figured you might be having Lindsey withdrawals.”

My friend knew me too well.

“That sounds great. I’ve been thinking I’m in dire need of having a spa afternoon. What do you think?”

“Let’s do it,” she said. “Meet me at Cappelli’s at noon. We’ll do lunch first.”

I was showered, wearing my sexiest nightgown and reading a book on my iPad when Jack came to bed. He was fresh from the shower, his brown locks still damp.

“Tired?” I asked.

“I’m beat,” he said, pulling the covers up and fluffing his pillow. “The light doesn’t bother me, though. Go ahead and read.”

I closed my iPad and set it on the nightstand. I switched the lamp off next to it and rolled over, scooting close to Jack.

I lowered my lips to his, kissing them gently. He wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me closer, his tongue briefly tracing my lips.

“Good-night, Sammie.”

“Jack, I kind of thought maybe we would make love tonight. It’s been a while.”

“Samantha,” he sighed, a bit of impatience in his tone, “I told you how beat I am tonight. Rain check?”

“Sure,” I said, rolling away from him. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

I lay in the darkness, a single tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. Within minutes, I heard Jack’s even breathing signaling that he was sleeping.

What the hell was wrong with me? Becky said I was still gorgeous. That presumed I’d been gorgeous as a teen or as a twenty-something. I figured best friends were obligated to say things like that. Jack had never said that to me, though. I wanted Jack to think I was beautiful, or ravishing, or goddamn sexy.

My thoughts went back to the honeymoon cruise my parents had given us. Jack had been attentive then. He’d romanced me, charmed me, and we had sex every day of the cruise, sometimes even twice. The sex wasn’t what I’d expected. Jack avoided kissing during sex. He had a tendency to be a bit rough. I attributed it to the fact that Jack had been pressured into marrying me. Still, I loved him, for whatever reason.

Once we returned from our honeymoon, I’d busied myself decorating our new condo, buying baby furniture, and outfitting the nursery.

Jack’s family hadn’t bothered to acknowledge our marriage or the impending birth of our daughter. They did, however, periodically hit us up for money.

My father had started Jack out at a generous salary. Money had never been an issue for us, though I suspected this was all new for him. He loved having money and sometimes flaunted it a bit when he got together with his buddies while they were home on summer breaks from college.

Jack’s mother and step-father had come to the hospital to see Lindsey shortly after her birth. Jack’s mother, Louise, had commented that Lindsey was probably set for life. It was a strange comment. I’d looked over at Jack to see his reaction to her comment. He’d remained impassive to it. The truth was, I think he somehow enjoyed the fact that we were financially comfortable in life and that the rest of his family continued to struggle. I knew deep inside that was the only reason he’d allowed my father to force our marriage. Jack was set for life, too.

I turned over on my side, clutching my pillow beneath me. Why had I settled, though? Perhaps contentment was all that mattered to me. I’d busied myself with Lindsey and her activities, and Jack had participated as well. He’d coached her softball team and never missed her soccer games, school concerts or plays. He’d taught her how to drive, and was extremely protective of her when she’d started dating. He was the one who had insisted on taking her to Cornell for freshman orientation. I knew that he loved Lindsey. I just couldn’t figure out why he’d never come to love me.

I finally drifted off to sleep with the feeling of loneliness and uncertainty gnawing within me.

^{chapter 2}

Becky and I spent a lovely afternoon at the spa. We were massaged, given facials, waxed, manicured, and pedicured. We were now sitting in the sauna, white towels wrapped turban-style around our hair, another wrapped around our torsos.