The Other Woman (27 page)

****

RIVAL

I have to see how my family is doing after the burglary, so the moment I wake; I switch to watching the recorded surveillance.

I watch their horror at being robbed, the cops on the scene, plans to call RIO, their insurance company, and finally, their joy at being able to have everything stolen replaced with brand new stuff.

Good, everything is going according to plan.

I return to Scarlett’s book and begin to work on it. The original book remains intact. In case my book doesn’t sell, I will still have the original to hand over to the cops one day.

I seldom leave my room – I just work long and hard on the book.

A sociopath’s journey into man-stealing, friend-sabotaging, and generally an insight into how a sociopath operates.

I didn’t expect to have fun re-writing this book, but I do. I am so amazed at how energized I have suddenly become. Stealing something valuable of Scarlett’s feels utterly delicious.

I’ve decided to title my book
Ramblings of a Psycho Bitch,
or RPB.

Scarlett’s book is far too large and comprises of years of tales, so I’ve decided to only publish the first part of it. Maybe later, I would consider a sequel. If I have the time or energy, that is.

I log onto Amazon.com, and after a few frustrating minutes, I log off. It’s too hard for me, which is disappointing.

Whose help can I enlist?

Ritchie. He’s smart. Across the board smart – not like Bradley, who is only good at law. Ritchie likes to win, so he doesn’t give up until he triumphs. Bet he will want to conquer this.

Laptop in hand, I seek out my neighbor and friend, who I have avoided since he was best man at Bradley’s wedding. It is late, and I’m sure the kids are in bed, so I expect to find him on his patio.

I am right. “Hey, Pig!”

“Hey,” he says, dropping his feet from the table and sitting upright. “Glad you’re here. I, eh, I wanna apologize—”

“For what?” I ask, taking a seat next to him.

“For…for…” He lifts and drops his shoulders. “Bradley’s wedding. I know you were mad, but—”

“Apology accepted.” I grin at him.

“What? Just like that? I…I mean—”

“That’s okay,
Big
,” I say. “You can make up by helping me.”

“Oh?”

“I wrote this book, and I want to self-publish it on Amazon, but I’m finding the uploading process a li’l daunting. Don’t know if you can help. In fact, I doubt it, but—”

“You
doubt
it, eh?”

“Well—”

“Didn’t know you were writing a book. What’s it about?”

Like I am going to tell him. “Eh, you know
Fifty Shades of Grey
?”

His eyes light up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah?”

“Not that.”

“Oh.”

“You…you know
Harry Potter
?”

“Yeah, yeah?”

“Not that.”

“Oh.”

“You know
Twilight
?”

“Y…eah…?”

“Not that.”

“Rival!”

I laugh. “It’s just a book for chicks. A novel. A lot of rambling, like I’m doing right now.”

“Ah.” He smiles at me.

We huddle around the laptop as he tries to figure out the procedure to upload the book.

“Rival, your laptop is too old,” he says, squinting at it. “You need a new one if you’re gonna be a writer.”

“Okay, I will shake the tree, and when the money falls, I will purchase a state-of-the-art laptop. Hozzat?”

His head shoots up to look at me, his eyebrows raised. “Why—”

“Ritchie, all I really have is three hundred thousand dollars, proceeds from the sale of my house. I need to add to that to buy myself a home for me and my girls. So I’m watching my pennies.”

He sits back and stares at me.

“I live frugally, so as not to have to touch it.”

“Rival,” he shakes his head, “what happened to you – it’s just wrong. You can sue them. Get an attorney—”

Now is not the time to remind him that if I do sue Bradley, I would have to summon him to court to testify against his best friend. Instead, I say, “Maybe I will one day. But right now, I don’t wanna stress and get myself worked up. Don’t want to land in Dunhill again.”

“Okay, I get that.” He turns his attention back to the internet and focuses. Sometime later, he sits back and slaps his thigh. “Done.”

“Really?” I cover my mouth with both my hands.

He nods and wriggles his eyebrows at me. “Wanna hit
publish
?”

I smile, and feeling like I am about to roll the dice in a high-stakes game, I rub my clammy hands together, lean in, and click
Publish
.

“Right. Rival Murdoch, of Sydney, Australia, you are now a published author.”

“Oh, wow!” I slam back in my seat.

Ritchie reads and explains a few things to me on how to read sales and royalties.

“Look,” he says, when he sees my attention wandering, “don’t be too disappointed if you don’t make any sales. At least you’re a published author. How many women around you can say that?”

“Sure,” I said, understanding his need not to give me false hope. “I’m expecting nothing. Thank you so much.”

“You are welcome, Rival.” He smiles at me.

I give him a kiss on the cheek and leave.
Please let someone buy this book,
I pray as I make my way back home to my old laptop to watch my reality show. Even if I sell just one lousy copy, I will feel so great. I can then tell my kids that I am a published author. And I can buy a new laptop.

****

RIVAL

I stare at Ritchie’s text.
Can u come over need ur help

It’s after 9 p.m. What could he possibly need help with? But of course I will help. I reply right away.
Ok
.

I tear myself away from my laptop and make my way over to Ritchie.

“Hey!” I say, looking into his eyes, which are shiny tonight. “What do you need help with?”

He thrusts a large box at me, his eyes shining. I cock my head as I read the writing on the box. “Toshiba? It’s a…laptop?”

His head bobs. “Sure is. Dual processor, solid-state drive, backlight, and on-screen touch feature…" His voice brims with excitement. “Open it. C’mon, c’mon!”

I don’t take the box from him. “You bought this for
me
, Ritchie?”

“Yeah. It’s a present. Now you can write to your heart’s content and churn out more books.” He starts to back away toward the kitchen. “Lemme get a knife. I’ll help you open it up.” He turns and heads toward the kitchen.

I stare at Ritchie’s back, my eyes burning with tears. What a beautiful man he is to do this for me. I don’t know Ritchie well enough for him to be
this
kind to me. It makes me think of Bradley. It was his kindness and compassion toward me that I missed so much.

He hurries back into the room and stops abruptly. “Oh c’mon, Rival!” he says when he sees my tears.

I shake my head, then reach to give him a hug. “Thank you,” I mumble. “I appreciate your kindness, Ritchie.”

“Eh…well…I—”

“You are a beautiful man,” I say, moving my face away to look at him. “Whatever happened between you and your wife…I don’t know, but she was a foolish woman to let someone like you go.”

At the mention of his wife, a look of sadness masks his face. With a slight nod, he hugs me back, and in his hug, I feel his melancholy, his loneliness.

“How can I thank you?” I whisper.

It’s a while before he answers. “When you sell one hundred books, you can take me to dinner,” he says with a small smile. “And I will order a Big Mac. With fries. Maybe even a chocolate sundae. With chocolate flakes on the top.”

I chuckle. “Count on it.” (Okay, so I stole the
count on it!
from Scarlett. I’ve stolen her book, why not her signature phrase?)

“I’m looking forward to it,” he says as he hugs me tighter.

I don’t pull away, even though I should. Ritchie’s aftershave is awesome, and I bask in his scent. All his running and swimming has resulted in a lean, muscular body that feels solid and even…a little…sexy.

We hug longer than necessary, neither of us appearing to be in a hurry to end the physical contact we obviously miss.

After a while he jerks back, clamps his large hands on my shoulders, and, avoiding my eyes, says, “Let’s get you rigged up with your fancy new laptop.”

I smile and look at the box on the table. “Sure.”

****

RITCHIE

There’s something different about Rival these days. She’s bubbly and upbeat. Her hair is shiny, her eyes are sparkling, and her smile…that’s the best part about her – it’s very Mona Lisa. And of course, her dressing has improved as well – her skirts are shorter, her jeans are tighter, she wears these tops that show her belly button, and it’s all kind of…sexy. When I hugged her, she felt nice. Warm and…
nice
. I said that already, I know.

As she darts around like a butterfly in my kitchen, humming to herself, I have to wonder, has someone taken away Rival and sent me her twin? You can’t blame me for being so suspicious. When a woman changes drastically – ding! ding! ding!

“You look happy, Rival,” I say, sauntering up to her, my eyes slanting.

Her head jerks to look at me. That secret smile appears again as she bites the end of her pen. “Do I, now?”

“Yeah, your whole…
being
is bright.”

“But do I look
good
?” she asks in a coy voice. “That is the question.”

“What do you – of course – you look great.”

“Good enough for Bradley to dump her and want me back?”

I sigh inwardly. There we go again
. He married Scarlett – when are you going to give up, Rival?

I haven't seen Bradley on a social level for a while, so I have no idea what is going on, but it seems like he is thawing toward Rival. That may be a good thing, but it might also be giving Rival false hope.

“Well, yeah. I think. I mean, you guys are making progress, right? He gave you a car. An almost brand new BMW. That’s a good start, I tell you.”

My answer seems to please her. She smiles. “And you? How’s your dating going?”

“Good, good!” I say.

“Yeah?”

I nod. “Gets a little tiring at times. Guess the dynamics have changed now that I have kids. I don’t have time to waste, so it would be nice if I can find someone who isn’t a nut job and wants the same things I…” I freeze when I realize what I just said. “Jeez, I’m sorry for using that term.”

She laughs. “It’s okay.”

I groan into my hands. “I’m such a dingbat.”

“You are. So what’s the craziest date you’ve had?”

I think about it. “Well, there was this beautiful girl I met on a dating site. Mixed race, with lovely long hair and really, you know, sexy. Anyway, we met for drinks at a bar. That went well, so we progressed to dinner, and finally, I gave her a lift home. But before that, we got into the back seat of the car and made out like crazy. She was wild, and it was—”

“On your first date?”

“On our
first
date…and she said, ‘Do you wanna come to my place?’ And I said, ‘Oh, yeah!’ Then she said, 'Let’s go, baby.' So we raced to her place all hot and steamy, and I thought, cool, I’m gonna get laid tonight, and I was humming. We get to her house, park the car, make out all the way to her apartment. She unzips me in the lift, drops to her knees and—”

“Whoa!”

“Yeah. When she opens the door to her apartment, her mother and grandmother are in the lounge watching TV and—”

“Oh, you’re kidding me!”

I shake my head. “Quickly, I zip myself up as she introduces us. Then she motions her head towards her bedroom. I’m like, heaps uncomfortable by then, because one, her mother and grandmother are living with her, and two, surely they would know we were having sex behind the closed door? It’s like, disrespectful, you know what I’m saying? ”

Rival laughs. Loudly.

“Anyway, my carnal desires take precedent over my sense of propriety, and grandmother or no grandmother, I plow ahead. We get, like, almost there. Then she says, ‘I love you.’”

“Whaaaat?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know her; we had just met. Her grandmother and mother were in the next room wide awake, and she was telling me she loved me. Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Thank you,’ and continued. Then she says, ‘Tell me you love me. Please, say you love me. Please!’ Her eyes were now bulging, and she had this desperate look on her face. I start to freak the fuck out.”