You've Been Warned

I stand on the sidewalk a half block behind them and miles away from being able to collect all my thoughts and emotions about this new development. There’s so much to think about; there are so many angles to consider.

That’s when I realize what I should be doing.

Don’t think, just shoot.

I reach for my camera. If I’m quick enough, I’ll get them tongue kissing before the light changes.

Only I don’t feel anything where I’m reaching.

No camera. No shoulder bag. I forgot to grab it when I bolted out of the Comfort Diner.

Shit fire and save matches! I think.

And I remember who used to say that—my dead father.

Chapter 77

“WHAT?” SAYS MICHAEL.

I start to repeat myself, but he heard me the first time. He just can’t believe it. Or is it me he can’t believe?

We’re standing before floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room of the Wall Street apartment his company provides for out-of-town VIPs. Apparently there are a lot of them, because we’ve only been able to meet here a few times. Those were romantic interludes, however, and something tells me there’ll be a lot less sex tonight.

“Are you sure it was Penley?” Michael asks. “This isn’t just a fantasy you’re having?”

“I’m positive. I saw it with my own eyes.”

I’m trying to put myself in his shoes. Less than forty-eight hours ago he was rescuing me from a Brooklyn hospital before they could check me into a padded room.

Now this bombshell.

Maybe I’d be a little skeptical too. Especially when I tell Michael that I didn’t have my camera with me. He knows I practically sleep with it.

So with no pictures—no proof—all I’ve got is my word and his trust in me.

“And you’re sure it was the same guy she set you up with?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes, it was that ‘cute guy,’ Stephen.”

“That would mean...”

“Exactly,” I say.

“But how could she know? We’ve been careful.”

I shoot him a dubious look. “I distinctly recall the Maytag club, among other things.”

“Still, I’d know if she knew. Penley would be trying to kill me, not playing games.” He begins to pace, thinking out loud. His neck and face are getting very red. “She sent this guy out to dinner with you on a reconnaissance mission? I mean, the woman has balls, but we’re talking King Kong cojones here.”

“It doesn’t seem so crazy if she only suspected we were involved.”

“Trust me,” he says. “What you’re telling me is crazy no matter how you slice it.”

The word seems to hang in the air—right above my head. Crazy. Does he think that’s what I am? Also, he’s starting to get very pissed. Maybe even at me. I do not need one of your meltdowns here, Michael.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” I say.

Michael abruptly stops pacing. He comes over and takes me in his arms. “Of course I believe you,” he says. He tacks on a loving squeeze lest there be any doubt.

But there is doubt. I can hear it in his voice. I see it in his eyes. He’s not really sure what to think.

Of all the ways I thought he might react to the news, uncertainty wasn’t in the mix. I could understand his anger, and even resentment. I could tolerate a twinge of jealousy. No man likes to share a woman, regardless of whether he loves her.

Nonetheless, when the emotional dust settled, what I hoped for from Michael was that he’d see this the same way I now do—as an opportunity. No longer the only adulterer in his marriage, he won’t have to worry about being raked over the coals in a divorce settlement. Once and for all, he can do what I’ve always wanted him to do.

Dump Penley.

“So now what?” I ask.

“I want to sleep on it,” he says. He stares at me for a moment. “You’re absolutely sure it was her, though, right, Kris? You’re certain.”

“Yes,” I answer. “I saw them.”

I’m sure of it.

At least I think I am.

Chapter 78

ALL NIGHT I TOSS and turn, thinking about Penley and Stephen, and whether Michael believes me. Or for that matter whether I believe me.

The only silver lining is that I’m spared again from the dream when morning arrives. If only I could figure out how to live the rest of my life without sleep, I’d be all set.

When I arrive for work, Penley does a double take. “You forgot what day it is, didn’t you?” she says.

I smack my forehead. “You’re right, I did.”

Once every two weeks, Penley steps in for me and walks Dakota and Sean to school. I get the morning off.

Michael calls it her “guilt trip,” but I don’t think guilt has anything to do with it. If it did, it would mean she’s aware of what a bad mother she is. And about that she’s definitely clueless. Rather, in her oh-so-twisted mind, Penley probably sees subbing for me as a required sacrifice. Community service, with her children.

“Well, since you’re here,” says Penley, “the chaise cushions for the patio need to be brought out for the summer. Make sure you thoroughly clean the furniture first, okay?”

“No problem,” I say.

“And the cushions, of course.”

“Sure thing.”