Society Wives (11 page)

Sage laughed with her and she felt her heart beat.

“My Jets are screwing up bad, Dali.”

“I can see that.” She rolled off his lap and sat beside him. “Let's take a vacation.”

“Okay,” he said, only half listening.

“Let's take one now!”

“Now!” Sage reared his head back. “Babe, I can't leave work now. It's too busy. Besides, I…” Sage stopped talking.

“You what?”

“It's just not a good time.”

“I know, but I'm talking about a quick excursion. Some place quiet, secluded and sexy.”

“How about right after the Super Bowl?”

“No, Sage. We need this getaway now. I barely see you and by the time you get home at night, you're so exhausted you go right to sleep. We haven't made love in weeks. I miss you.”

Sage sighed. “I'm sorry, babe. Work has been…crazy.”

“I know. It's been crazy for me, too, which is why we could use this.”

“Let me think about it.”

Nadalia pouted. She was used to getting what she wanted from him. “Sage,” she whined.

“The Super Bowl is just a few weeks away and then I'll take you somewhere for a quick getaway or maybe even a whole week.”

Annoyed, Nadalia stood, blocking the TV with her hands on her hips.

“Are you cheating on me, Sage?”

“What?” Sage grabbed the remote, hit mute and looked at Nadalia with his entire face scrunched into a curious knot. “What would make you say that?”

Nadalia crossed her arms. “You love sex and you haven't touched me. If you're not screwing me, then who are you screwing?”

“Now you're just being ridiculous!” Sage shook his head and held Nadalia by the shoulders. “Babe. I'm not cheating on you!” Sage threw his hands up, exasperated.”

Nadalia searched his eyes for any indication that he was lying. She surmised that her heart would cloud her judgment anyway and stomped off. If he was cheating, she'd need proof.

“Dali!” Sage called after her. “Jeez!” she heard him say behind her back. “Okay. Let's go somewhere.”

Nadalia almost ran back to the room. “Really!”

“Yes. Put something together right after the New Year. Something quick.”

Nadalia yelped. “Okay. I have the perfect getaway lined up.” She kissed Sage. “It will be great.” Nadalia headed out to make the plans. “I hope I don't have to wait until then to get some from my husband,” she teased.

Nadalia took the stairs two at a time as she ran up to her bedroom to retrieve her iPad to book their getaway. She noticed she had missed a few calls on her cell phone and thumbed through her missed notifications. The one that surprised her was the missed call from Pearson. Curious to see what she had to say after her less than becoming behavior the night before, Nadalia dialed her back and stood with her hand on one hip as she waited for her to answer.

“Nadalia,” Pearson said when she answered.

“What do you want?”

“You're mad, of course. I just called to apologize for last night. I didn't mean to raise a ruckus.”

“Pearson. You always mean to raise a ruckus. You ruined my party.”

“Nadalia, please…” She heard Pearson sigh. “I'll make it up to you. In fact, I'll make it up to all of you. Dinner. My treat—over at Monty's by the pier. When would you like to go?”

Nadalia didn't answer right away. She thought about it for a minute. Did she really want to go to dinner with Pearson? “Fine, but not Monty's. I'll choose the place.”

“Whatever.”

“Pearson!”

Pearson laughed. “I'm kidding, geesh. Loosen your panty straps. Relax.”

Nadalia found herself chuckling, too. When Pearson wasn't getting on her nerves, she did manage to make her laugh. She was the only wife besides her who had the courage to speak her mind, although she didn't doubt the Vonnie had it in her. Ryan didn't. “How about this Friday, right after Christmas. I'll let you know which restaurant I choose. Does seven o'clock work for you?”

“Works just fine. I'll call the other girls to invite them.”

Nadalia thought about it. In all the years that their husbands had been friends, this would be the first time that the wives would be hanging out without them. She wasn't sure how she felt about having Ryan come after last night, but if the men were fine, then she'd be fine.

“See you then,” she told Pearson and ended the call without another thought.

Nadalia planned to find the most expensive restaurant along the gold coast and enjoy every morsel on Pearson's dime.

Chapter 18

Ryan

Christmas had finally come and this time, Ryan was particularly anxious as she prepared for the evening. Anderson told her that his parents had flown in to spend the holidays in New York this year and would be joining them for dinner. His mother especially enjoyed the lively vibe that electrified her home town during this time of the year. They were to spend a few days in their condo down in Battery Park, and a few days at their home in the Hamptons before flying back to LA right after the New Year.

She was under tremendous pressure to cook or have an impressive meal catered, as well as serve as a referee between Frannie and Anderson's mother. From the moment those two met, they were enemies, exchanging snarls instead of smiles. They were polar opposites in terms of their upbringings. Phoebe, who was brought up under the bright lights of Hollywood, was cultured and had traveled the world by the time she was ten. Frannie on the other hand, hadn't seen an airplane up close until after Ryan had married Anderson. As far as Frannie was concerned, all that fancy talk and fancy clothes didn't make Phoebe any better than anyone else.

Ryan was still on a little bit of a high since this morning when Anderson showered her with lavish gifts for Christmas. He'd done better this year than in the past and that made Ryan both happy and nervous. She was happy about the beautiful tennis bracelet, diamond earrings and custom designed fur coat from Miso Furriers, but it also made her question his motives. After their intense sex the other night following the blow up at Nadalia's house, Ryan woke up the next morning to find the house empty. Anderson showed up later that night without an explanation of his whereabouts. She gave no resistance other than a cold shoulder. Everything had returned to normal until he surprised her with all those great gifts earlier.

The doorbell sent a jazzy tune reverberating throughout the house and Ryan ran to the door to let in who she thought were the caterers.

“Merry Christmas, honey,” Frannie choked out with her raspy voice. “I came early to help with dinner.” She walked past Ryan. “Where's that husband of yours?” she said, heading to the kitchen with bags.

Ryan stood, still holding the doorknob, willing her insides to stop twirling. She was already anxious and her mother's early presence would only add to that. “Merry Christmas, Ma.” Ryan closed the door and sighed. “Anderson is upstairs taking a nap.”

“A nap!” Frannie looked at her watch—the Rolex that Ryan had purchased for her birthday last summer. “At this time of the day? He should be down here helping, making merry with you over some fresh baked bread as it wafts through the corridors of this big old house. It's Christmas for Christ's sake.” Frannie stopped and sniffed the air. “How come I don't smell anything? Aren't we supposed to be having dinner here this evening? Did I make these desserts for nothing?”

“I catered. I thought I told you that I didn't need you to come over early. I've got everything under control.”

“Oh you do?” Frannie looked her up and down. “Then why do you look like you just ran through a field of poison oak?”

Ryan gasped and touched her face. She looked in the mirror in the vestibule and almost cried when she saw the red blotches. The stress had made a physical appearance.

“Oh no!”

“Relax! Something told me you needed me.” Frannie went into the powder room and came back with a wet hand towel. “Come on in here and sit down for a moment.” She still had her purse hanging off her arm. “Here.” She placed the cool towel over Ryan's face.

Ryan cried, letting the towel absorb her tears. Anderson's parents' impending visit was getting to her more than she realized.

“Hold that.” Frannie took Ryan's hand and placed it over the towel. “It's a little cold, but keep it there. Do you have any allergy medication here—some fresh ginger, maybe?”

“I have allergy pills in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom upstairs,” Ryan said.

“Good, go get some while I boil this ginger. I'm half Jewish you know, and we have lots of remedies for stuff like this.”

“I know, Ma,” Ryan said as she headed upstairs for the pills. When she returned, her mother was at the door letting the caterer in. “Merry Christmas. You can bring that right over here,” Ryan said leading the handlers to the formal dining area, and then she ran into the kitchen to get the envelope that contained their pay.

Frannie peeked inside the chafing dishes. “So much food! Who else is coming to dinner?”

Ryan didn't want to say their names. “Um.”

“Um? We're having dinner with someone named Um?”

Ryan rolled her eyes. “Anderson's parents are in town. They're coming for dinner.”

Frannie stood silent for a few moments. “If that woman says one word to me other than hello, I'm going to—”

“Ma!”

“Well she better watch it.”

“Just help me set the table,” Ryan huffed. If her mother kept it up, she'd never get rid of the nervous blotches.

In the midst of their preparations, Anderson came down the steps in all of his Hollywood glamour. His descent resembled something from a movie.

Ryan's heart skipped a beat when he rounded the bottom of the staircase and headed toward her in the dining room. He had freshened up and even smelled handsome.

“Afternoon, Frannie,” he said in his deep, debonair tone.

“What's up, Andy? You're looking dapper. Is it because momma and daddy are coming for a visit?”

Anderson ignored her.

“How was your nap?” Ryan asked.

“Good.” He kissed her. Ryan was surprised. “What happened to your face?” he asked.

“I just got a little too stressed out over preparing for dinner.”

“Well relax. There's no need to be stressed. They're not spending the night.” He chuckled.

Anderson leaned over and sniffed the pans lining the antique buffet table. “Clara Mae's, I suspect.”

“Yes. I wanted to make sure we had delicious soul food your mother could appreciate.”

“Niles' family does it best. It smells great. Well, they called just before I got in the shower to say they were on their way. They should be here soon. I'll get a few bottles of wine from the cellar. Maybe you should put a little make up on. Is that what you're wearing?”

Ryan touched her face. “I haven't gotten dressed yet, Anderson,” she said.

“Go ahead and get yourself ready, honey. I'll be happy to greet your in-laws for you when they arrive.” Frannie's Cheshire cat smile spread across the length of her thin face.

“I'll take care of that,” Anderson said, admonishing Frannie with his eyes.

She tossed him an innocent look and followed Ryan upstairs.

Ryan heard the doorbell as she dressed.

“They're here!” Frannie sang as she sat on the side of their bed.

Ryan examined herself in the full length mirror. The red dress hugged her waif frame and she added a white belt to add the illusion of definition to her waist. She wore the bracelets and matching earrings that Anderson had given her earlier. She pulled her blond tresses into a roll and quickly curled the edges into spirals.

“You look fine,” Frannie said. “Now let's go greet the beast!” She pulled Ryan's arm, dragging her along and calling her on her obvious attempt to prolong the inevitable.

Frannie lifted her chin as she drew closer to Phoebe and Sheldon. Ryan watched the women look down their noses at one another as they entered the sitting room.

Phoebe looked gorgeous as always with her salt and pepper spiral curls cascading down the sides of her flawless caramel face. Her lips were painted her signature red and her opulent jewels and winter white pants suit spoke of her elegance. In contrast, Frannie wore skinny jeans that clung to her wiry legs a red, white and green Christmas sweater with riding boots.

“Frannie,” Phoebe said and nodded.

“Phoebe,” Frannie said and turned to Anderson's dad. They engaged in a quick, but genuine embrace. “Hey Chuck, how ya doin'?”

“Couldn't be better, Frannie and yourself?”

“Like you, I couldn't be better.”

“Ryan. You look lovely as always,” Sheldon said.

She heard Phoebe suck her teeth as she hugged her father-in-law. Anderson had inherited his mean streak directly from her, Ryan had always surmised.

Anderson was the darker version of his distinguished looking dad. Both were tall and handsome, but Anderson inherited his mother's caramel complexion, which was several shades darker than his fair-skinned father.

“Phoebe.” Ryan offered a polite nod in her direction.

“Ryan.” Phoebe nodded back.

“I'm starving. Let's get started,” Anderson said, placing his hand on his dad's back as they walked into the formal dining room.

“It smells great in here. Ryan, did you cook all of this?”

“Of course she didn't,” Phoebe answered for her.

Frannie cut a quick glance at Ryan. She didn't want her mother to fall into Pheobe's trap.

“We called in a favor,” Anderson said to his dad and smiled.

“Hmm.” Sheldon sniffed. “Good ole Clara Mae's. I can tell. I swear that food reminds me of my days back in South Carolina as a child. My grandma—the little woman that she was—would wring a chicken's neck and snap it so fast. Next thing you know we had dinner. I tell you, those were the good ole days.”