The Other Woman (36 page)

Anyway, he storms out with Ritchie, I’m in tears, and my daddy is furious. What a mess.

All because of Rival. All because of some stupid nutcracker who has my husband wrapped around her finger. Her
middle
finger it seems. How? How the hell is Rival managing to charm Bradley in such a way that he is willing to put his dream of becoming prime minister on the line for her? I’m so confused about her sudden influence on Bradley.

****

SCARLETT

I leave Bradley to simmer down. Tomorrow when he is calm and rested, I will tackle him.

In the meantime, I purchase a new bed for us.

Bradley comes to bed after midnight and ignores me. Even though I’m really disappointed, I refuse to get mad. He needs time. That’s all.

The following evening, I greet him at the door dressed in a tiny pair of shorts, an off-the-shoulder top, a pair of PVC-and-silver stilettos, and a whisky in hand. “How was your day, honey?” I ask in a throaty voice.

“Shitty!” he snaps, almost snatching the whisky out of my hand.

Right.

He loses his briefcase, removes his tie, and heads off to find the kids.

Grouch.

About twenty minutes later, when he’s on his third whisky and staring out of the TV room and into space, I walk up to him. “You need to relax, sweetheart,” I say, rubbing his back in a calming manner.

He shrugs me off him. “My arrest is in all the fucking papers, Scarlett. How can you tell me to relax? Huh? Everyone’s calling me to see if I’m okay. ‘Is it true, buddy? Mate?’ Fucking arseholes! They are just nosey, that’s all.” He gulps at his whisky.

I do believe that a lot of people are envious of our lifestyle, our happiness, so yes, they would probably gloat. But gloat away, you lesser mortals, I say to myself. We will have our name cleared in no time. Of that, I am sure.

Bradley stops pacing and cocks his head at me.

“What?”

For a few moments he stares, a thoughtful look on his face. “I have to ask you again, Scarlett, did you do—”

“No, Bradley. Do you think I’d want Mabel’s broken tablet? And a camera that fell out of Noah’s ark? Really? Is that what you think of me?” I’m hurt that he could even ask that. I mean, Norman gave me the top of the range SLR camera for my birthday, complete with every overpriced accessory I
didn’t
need; why did I have to steal Mabel’s old camera?

“Well, it’s just that…nobody has the safe combination, Scarlett. Just you and me.”

“Rival may have it.”

He shakes his head. “I changed it after she was busted for drugs. And the detective, he...he pointed out so many flaws in our police report, Scarlett.”

“Flaws? Like what?”

He turns his body to face me. “Like the safe. He believes it was opened using a
combination.
He thinks that somebody deliberately broke the lock to make it look like it was a theft. There is no need to break the
inside
of the safe’s lock once it has been opened, Scarlett. It’s…wrong. Like it’s been staged.”

“Well—”

“Then there’s the window. Broken glass
outside
the house? That means it was broken from the
inside
. Our house locks – no forced entry? So just how did the burglar get inside?”

“Maybe…I don’t know, Bradley, but maybe whoever it was had obviously installed cameras around and—”

“There were none, Scarlett. Ritchie checked.
Doubled
checked. I had him check above the safe, around the alarm keypad – he found nothing. Nothing! ” He flops into a chair and runs his fingers through his hair. “How the hell do I recover from something like this?”

I walk over to him and drop to my knees. “It’s all Rival’s doing, Bradley. I’m telling you.”

He shakes his head. “Did you see her? She’s fragile. Incapable, Scarlett. Not shrewd and smart. No way. These moves, they were calibrated, calculated, and someone had to have a
tremendous
amount of patience to pull it off. Rival isn’t that smart. She struggles with a
microwave
when we go on holiday. She doesn’t even know how to use a hammer. There is no way she could pull off something of this magnitude.”

I peer at my husband, the clueless idiot I married. If he keeps up this protectiveness over Rival, I am going to fucking lose it, and use a hammer on both of them! Can’t he smell the stench of scorned woman? Baffled as I might be about many things, I know it’s Rival. Yes, Scarlett Murdoch is, for the first time in her life, baffled. If I had to be really honest, I’ll even admit that I am impressed by the sheer ingenuity of the framing. (The Framing of The Shrew. Wouldn’t that make a great book title? Not that I’m a shrew. I’m a nice person. Just don’t rile me, that’s all.)

Anyway, the crimes are petty, so why the hell is Bradley stressing so much? It isn’t like someone framed us for
murder
or something.

Even though I’m not an attorney, I doubt we’d get any prison time even if convicted (which we aren’t going to be) of these ridiculous crimes. Everything will work out, so if Bradley could stop acting like a fucking child and chill, we can resume our lives.

Besides, I have other pressing matters that bother me.

I haven’t told Bradley about the three cancellations to the dinner party I planned next week. That is three cancellations out of
five
. I can always replace those who bailed, but it infuriates me that these people, friends of ours, would ditch us so quickly. Innocent until proven guilty, my arse. My fair-weather friends. Wait till I get to be first lady. They will come crawling to me, and I will look at them as if they are maggots.

Suddenly, Bradley jumps to his feet and grabs his car keys.

“Where you going?”

“Out for a drink,” he mutters.

“You haven’t had dinner.”

His wave is dismissive. “Not hungry.”

“What about the kids?”

“Give them dinner without me.”

Really? Am I his fucking housekeeper? These are his brats, not mine. “What about me, Brad?”

He stops, spins around and yells, “What about you, Scarlett? Gimme a break, will you? I just need some alone time. You don’t have to tag alongside me every fucking time I leave the house!” He storms out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

For a moment, I am stunned. Bradley has never spoken to me like that before. Then I get mad. How dare he? Who does he think I am –Rival?

That is when I lose it – I run after him, ready to scream at him to change his attitude, and demand that he show me the respect I deserve from now on. But when I see Mabel and her ugly, spinster daughters sitting on her patio craning their necks to get a better look at us, I stop in my tracks. Obviously, they’ve heard Bradley yell at me.

Humiliated and furious at their glee, I give them the finger. Immediately, I regret my actions. Too late – now they have the satisfaction of knowing that I am upset.

Mabel’s jaw drops, while her daughters return my wave.

“Thief!” one of the sexually frustrated fuglies mouths.

“Slut!” the other doggie-bag-loving, polar-fleece-wearing imbecile says.

That sends me over the edge. “Go fuck yourselves, you cretins!” I hiss before I go inside and slam the door shut on their laughter.

I’m sick of them. Always sitting on their balcony watching me with beady, accusing eyes as if I really took their garage sale stuff. I will fix them. Wait and see.

As for Bradley, he’s acting like a fucking pussy, not a grown man, not a successful attorney, and most certainly not like a future fucking prime minister.

Rival! It’s all her fault. I want to strangle her for causing colossal chaos in my camp.

At midnight, I’m still awake, and Bradley has not returned home. He ignores all my calls and texts. I look across at Mabel’s house. All the lights are off. Quietly, I draw on a black hoodie over my head and creep over to her house, two bottles of pool acid in my hand.

Quietly, I point the nozzle at the grass and write the letters w-h-o-r-e in bold on her precious lawn that she spends hours admiring. Thereafter, I remove the scissors from my pocket, cut off every single velvet rose from her garden, and strew their petals around the destroyed lawn. I hum as I saunter back into my house.

I told you; don’t fuck with me.
Warned
you.

****

RITCHIE

I am surprised to get a phone call from Bradley at 7 p.m.

“Hey, mate!”

“Hey, Big, can you join me for a drink?”

“Eh, can’t man, kids are asleep. Where are you?”

“On my way to the inn for a drink. Man, I really need it.”

“Swing over here,” I say. “I’ve got plenty booze. A river of it.”

He takes me up on my offer and downs three shots of Jack Daniels within ten minutes. “Fuck, Big, this is just shit, I tell you. The charges themselves are no big deal. Probably get about twelve months’ probation, which I can live with. If found guilty, that is. But the smear, the tarnishing of my reputation – that sucks. I’ll always be known as the shonky attorney, and that, Big, that really fucks my head in. Like a power fuck, man.”

“I can under—”

“Who’d wanna hurt me like this, Big? I’m a good guy, man.”

I shrug. “You are, and it beats me.”

He falls silent for a while as he stares deep into his whisky glass. Then he turns to me. “Do you think it could be Rival?”

Shit!

“Rival…” I shake my head, twist my mouth, then throw out my hands. I have to make it convincing.

He nods. “You heard Milton.”

“Yeah, I did. He’s nuts.”

“And Scarlett too thinks it’s Rival.
Convinced
it’s Rival. Says it reeks of scorned woman.”

I choose my ramble carefully. “Yeah, well, you never know, even though…like…man, I don’t know…”

He doesn’t answer, just stares at his drink.

“But, Brad, isn’t Rival like, on a million drugs that are keeping her spaced out?”

“Exactly. That’s what I’m trying to tell Scarlett. My exact words, Big.”

“Anyway,
I c
ould find nothing to link
her
to the burglary, Brad.”

He nods.

“I questioned her, got nothing. The day I combed your property for bugs. Nothing.”

“Yeah…”

“She was cooperative. Even sorry. But mentally, she...like, I dunno, Brad. She doesn’t strike me as someone capable of pulling off such a crime. That’s my opinion, anyway.”

He nods and gives his drink his undivided attention for a few moments. “She looks good.”

“Huh?”

“Rival. She looks better each time I see her. Together.” He stares at his glass again.

Well…

“It wasn’t my idea,” he mutters.

He doesn’t have to explain; I know what he is talking about. “Yeah?”

“Two days in jail for someone like me…made me think, reflect. I feel like I have just awoken from a drug-induced sleep, Big. I thought more about her than anyone else. More than my kids, Scarlett…”

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe guilt, karma…but fuck, did I obtain clarity those two days. Nothing like metal bars caging you in to
free
your mind and bring clarity. Irony.” He takes out his phone and starts texting.

“Who you texting?”

“I’m…texting…Rival.”

“Wait! Why? What you gonna—”

He ignores me and hits send.

“What did you say?”

He shows me the screen.

Im sorry Rival

When I look at my friend, to my utter surprise, his eyes are glassy. We sit in silence as we wait for Rival’s reply. Less than a minute later, his phone buzzes. With a sad smile on his face, he nods.

I look expectantly at him. He flashes his phone at me.

Its ok Bradley
(smiley face)

I am surprised by Rival’s swift and sweet response. I expected her to ask what it is he’s sorry about. She didn’t. Curiosity gets the better of me. “Have you two been talking or something?”

He shakes his head from side to side. “The last I saw her was at my house the day I returned from jail.”

“Really? And she responded like that?”

“That’s Rival. She’s doesn’t hold a grudge, Big.” He helps himself to another Scotch.

That’s what you think, mate.

“She’s really forgiving.”

That’s what you think, mate.

“Besides, she’s a little slow, and she doesn’t get a lot of things. Not smart like Scarlett. Scarlett’s shrewd. Balsy.”

That’s what you think, mate.

He starts to text again.

“Brad?”

He pauses to look at me. “Relax, I’m just asking if she would like to see the girls this Saturday. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

He hits send and puts his phone down.

His phone buzzes right away.

With a small smile he turns his phone screen to me.

Yes please yes yes
(smiley face)

I nod and try to maintain eye contact with him.
Getting really friendly with her, are you?

Luckily, Bradley’s house is just two minutes away from mine, and he could probably get home without getting caught for drunken driving or smashing his fancy Porsche.

As I fall asleep, I think to myself, Bradley is protecting Rival against Milton, Scarlett, and even risking jail time because of her. He is remorseful, and he’s trying to make it up to her. What the hell is going on?

****

RIVAL

I smile at Ritchie’s text.

Ritchie: What r u up 2

Rival: Nuttin n u

Ritchie:
nuttin n u

Rival:
nutting n u

Ritchie:
nutting n u

I laugh out loud at our silliness. It’s been a couple days since I last saw Ritchie. Although I wanted to call him, I didn’t. I figured if he wanted to talk to me, I would have heard from him. Now I’m really glad to hear from him.

Ritchie:
Come over n have a drink wud me.

Rival:
Its late in my nightie tmorrow ok

Ritchie:
Come over now or I will come n fetch u.

I hesitate.

Ritchie:
Tell me I cant

Ritchie:
Dare me.

Ritchie:
Please dare me!!!!

I laugh again.

Ritchie:
take it off if its in the way.

With a huge grin, I slip on a robe and walk over to my balcony. Ritchie stands at the foot of the ladder he’s left outside my balcony, phone in hand, looking up at me. Even though it’s dark, I see the gleam in his eyes. He flicks his fingers at me.

Quietly, I climb down the ladder. As I near the bottom of the ladder, he reaches up, grabs my waist, and swings me around before he lowers me down and starts to kiss me.

I giggle as he kisses my lips, my neck, my breasts, his hands roaming deliciously over my back and butt.

“I missed you,” he whispers, cupping my butt and drawing my hips to his.

Is that why it took you so long to call me?

After a lot more kissing, he jerks his head toward his house. We climb down the bank into his property and make our way to his patio.

“You are very confident,” I say as I eye the glass of white wine that’s already poured.

“Something like that,” he says in a cheeky voice as he hands it to me. “What mischief have you been up to?” He takes a seat next to me.

“Mischief? Me?”

He grins and tugs at a strand of my hair. “Yes, you.”

“As I said, nuttin’.”

“Mm. Milton is ready to take you down, you know that?”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “We need to get your alibi right for the day the BMW went missing. And the day it was returned.”

“Alibi?”

“Yeah. I have it all worked out.” For the next few minutes we work out dates, times, and then gear up to pencil in diary entries which will place me at his house at strategic times.

“All you have to do is ask, ‘Am I under suspicion? Because if I am –’”

“—I want an attorney, because I fear I’m not strong enough to handle this.”

“Good girl,” he says. “You can pull out your Get-out-of-Jail card – I’m a patient of Dunhill. My therapist has advised me never to talk to—”

“—The police without a lawyer. Got it.” I touch his cheek gently and smile at him. “
You’re
smart, Ritchie. I never would have thought about all of this.”

“Yeah, well, guess what? I would never have thought about all that
you
did. People think butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth – boy are they wrong. They have no idea how…how many
layers
there are to you.”

“Well, I’m taking all of that as a compliment. Every single insult and insinuation. I have a built-in app that that automatically converts all complaints, insults, insinuations – all converted to compliments like magic. And butter – it
always
melts in my mouth.”

He chuckles and taps the tip of my nose with his finger.

I lean in to kiss him lightly on the lips.

“The good news is, Bradley is defending you like crazy. Standing up to Milton.”

“Really?”

With his arm around my shoulders, he fills me in on the heated exchange between Bradley and Milton.

“Wow! I’m surprised at Bradley. Defending me like that in spite of him facing the prospect of prison.”

“Yeah. So am I. But it’s good.”

“He texted me the other night,” I say. “Asked me if I wanted to see the kids. Told me he was sorry.”

“I know. I was with him.”

My eyes turn large. “You were?”

He nods. “He expressed remorse over all the shit he’s done to you.”

“Now that…that’s…what I’ve been waiting to hear.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to tell you that. I think you’ve won, Rival.”

I remember to take a sip of my wine before I respond. “I haven’t won, Ritchie. I will only win when she is out of his life. When I have my life back. When
I
become first lady instead of her. When I steal not only her
husband
, but her
dreams
. All of them. Like she did mine.”

Ritchie slowly removes his arm from around me.

“What?”

His silence speaks volumes.

I put down my wine glass and move to straddle him. “I really missed you,” I whisper as I grab fistfuls of his damp hair and slide my tongue into his mouth, which tastes like a combination of toothpaste and whisky.

“Yeah? How much?” His voice becomes gruff and stilted.

“This much,” I say as I rub my crotch against him. Immediately I feel him growing hard.

He grabs handfuls of my arse and grinds me to his burgeoning erection.

In the still of the night, you can hear the sound of crickets, the whirring of the pool cleaner, and my moans as Ritchie’s fingers reach into my panties and hieroglyph my core. He’s such an expert that I grow limp on him. Suddenly, he withdraws his hand.

“Wh…at?”

He jerks his head toward the house. “Inside. I wanna fuck you silly in my bed.” He smacks my butt.

“Oooh, I’ve never been fucked
silly
before,” I say rubbing my butt.

He chuckles, and holding my hand, leads the way. We creep into the house and up in his bedroom, the one I decorated. There he does as promised – he fucks me silly.

“Stay the night,” he says in a voice slurred with sleep when I try to leave.

“I don’t want your kids to see me,” I explain as I try to remove his hands from around me, even though I’m loath to leave the warmth of Ritchie’s wonderful embrace.

“I’ll wake you up before they get up.”

“Um…” I have a lot to lose if Ritchie’s kids see us. They will tell Arena and Liefie about it. Or, even worse, they will tell my kids. All our kids go to the same school, so I can only imagine what would happen if our hook-up gets out.

“I promise, babe,” he says, drawing me closer and hugging me so tight, I can hardly breathe. “I’ll get you up at six. I’m good like that.”

Against my better judgment, I surrender, and we fall asleep, arms and legs entwined. I really don’t know what I enjoy more – fucking Ritchie, or the post-coital bliss that follows.

At 6:30 a.m., Ritchie snores next to me. So much for his waking me up. So much for him being “good like that.” After planting a kiss on his lips, I reluctantly stumble out of bed, slip on my nightie, and prepare to creep quietly out of the house. As I step out of his room, I collide with Girly.

“Jesus, God!” she says, both hands on her chest.

I don’t know who’s more shocked, she or me.

Shit! Shit! Shit!