Call Me! Page 8
“I’m an investor. Businesses, Real estate, horses, you name it. If there’s money in it, I’ll find it!” Then he says, “What about you, Dani? What do you do?”
“I’m a housewife.”
Roy laughs. “I know better than that! Our Ben has kept me informed through the years. It must be terribly exciting to be a private investigator.”
“The truth is I get very little work. Most of the time I’m a housewife, and quite content to be one, though I wasn’t aware you and Ben spoke on such a regular basis.”
“I check in with him once or twice a year, though now that I think about it, he never calls me. What’s with that, Benny Boy?”
Ben says, “I figure you’re so busy all the time! I’m always afraid I’ll interrupt some high-level business meeting. You’re always in motion. I was just telling Dani, you’re a force of nature!”
Roy says, “Well, thanks, but you’ve managed to do something I’ve never accomplished.”
“I can’t imagine what that might be,” Ben says. “You’re wealthy, successful, brilliant…you’ve had a wonderful life.”
“I can’t complain, and thanks for calling me brilliant. But with all my success, I’ve never found true love, and that’s the greatest success of all. I’m truly happy for you!”
“Thank you,” Ben says. “That means a lot to me.”
As Roy looks at me his eyes tear up. I wonder how he does that. Does he keep a cut onion in his pocket and rub his eyes with onion juice when I’m not looking?
He says, “I’m happy for you, too, Dani. Because Ben’s not only my best friend, he’s also the best human being I’ve ever met. Of course, I don’t have to tell you how special he is!”
“True,” I say, “But it’s always nice to hear my husband complimented.”
“I’d never do anything to hurt him,” Roy adds, holding my gaze.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t. I mean, what type of friend would?”
Ben says, “Thanks, Roy. You’ve always been a good friend.”
Monica brings Roy another drink and asks if we’d like something.
“I think we’re good,” Ben says. He and I are still nursing the drinks we ordered before Roy showed up.
“Benny never could hold his liquor,” Roy says. “I could tell you stories, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass my best friend. Not in front of his wife, anyway.”
Ben shows a smile, but it’s a sad one.
I know what’s going on in Ben’s mind. He’s feeling guilty for all the negative remarks he made about Roy. Now he sees Roy’s looks have faded a bit, sees him in a wheelchair, sees him drinking too much. Of course, Roy’s enjoying every moment of Ben’s discomfort, narcissistic bully that he is. And what makes him truly evil is he’s pulled me into his ugly game so I can watch him dismantle my husband’s ego.
What a complete bully he is! I can’t imagine what sort of high he could possibly get by emasculating my husband in front of me. According to Ben it’s been going on since the day they met.
Dinner arrives and we dig in. The men talk to each other about their college days, and I try to remember everything Carter Teague said and did last week, and everything Roy, as Joe Fagin, said and did.
The one thing I keep coming back to is Joe’s final comment: “This is the best birthday present I ever had!”
At the time I thought he meant I was the first part of the present, like an appetizer to whet his appetite, and having sex with his “wife,” Carter, was the rest of the present. I know some couples watch porn together before having sex, and I figured Carter and Joe had taken this concept to the next level. Perhaps they intended to take it up another notch as well, since they offered me three grand to have sex with them. I wouldn’t have done that for any amount of money, but what if I had? Poor Ben would be even more devastated.
Now I realize Roy’s best birthday present ever was what’s taking place tonight. He’s beaten my husband again, and he’s piling on the compliments so he can pull the rug out from under Ben. He took my husband’s pride and joy, me, and reduced me to a stripper for his pleasure. I had yelled, “I’m not a whore!” and he said, “Maybe not, but you’re certainly a stripper.”
Well, when it comes right down to it, it’s Roy’s word against mine about seeing me naked, and there’s no way Ben would believe such a cock-eyed story if I deny it. Ben knows I was out very late Friday night, and that’s an issue, but on the bright side I destroyed Carter’s cell phone, so there’s no photographic evidence. Even if Roy drags Carter Teague in here, it’ll be my word against theirs. I’ll convince Ben that Roy’s trying to put one over on him. I tell myself if it goes down that way I shouldn’t act defensively. I need to laugh, or roll my eyes like I would if someone were making up a story about me as a joke. Maybe I’ll listen to the whole story, as if spellbound, and say, “Absolutely true. Then I flew back home on my flying unicorn!”
Every now and then, as they’re talking, Roy turns to me and gives me a wink. He’s a disgusting pig of a man, and I hate myself for being a part of his game. I’m convinced he wants to destroy my husband’s faith in me tonight, and I feel sick, cheap and degraded about it. Worse, I feel disloyal to Ben, who’s done nothing worse than brag to his old college roommate about how wonderful his wife is.
After dinner, the moment of truth arrives.
ROY SAYS, “BEN, you’ve never said a word about my wheelchair.”
Ben looks uncomfortable. “Well, I figured you’d explain if you wanted us to know.”
“But weren’t you even concerned for me?”
“Well, of course I am! But I don’t like to intrude.”
Roy stares at Ben, enjoying the fact he’s making him squirm.
I say, “Tell us, Roy. Why are you sitting in that wheelchair tonight?”
Ben gives me an odd look.
Roy pushes the chair back a few feet and stands up.
Ben’s mouth drops.
I clap my hands in a bored, mocking way.
Ben gives me another strange look, and I realize I might be playing right into Roy’s hands. So I say, “I knew he was faking the wheelchair.”
“Really?” Roy says. “Tell us how!”
“Your hands aren’t calloused.”
Roy looks at his hands. Ben says, “See? That’s what makes her a great private eye!”
“Good for you, Dani,” Roy says, none too pleased.
He sits back in the chair and wheels it forward. “The truth is, I’m considering buying the company that makes this particular chair, and I wanted to try it out.”
Ben shakes his head with apparent admiration and says, “Who else would do that? This is why you’re so successful.”
“You might be right,” Roy says. “This particular company’s in Louisville. Do you ever get to Louisville, Ben?”
“Gosh, it’s been a while,” Ben says.
Roy turns to me. “How about you, Dani? Does your work ever take you to Louisville?”
I look him in the eye with a steely stare. “Rarely. Why do you ask?”
He holds my gaze and says, “I was there this past weekend.”
“Did you wheel yourself all the way here from Louisville?”
He laughs. “You’re a saucy little thing, aren’t you! Actually, I had this chair waiting for me at the Westin. I’ve only tested it outside for two blocks, and it wasn’t easy. I admire those who use them all the time.”
I nod. “Me too.”
He says, “Reason I asked about Louisville, I had dinner at Simon Claire’s in the Brundage Hotel. Have you tried it?”
Ben says, “We celebrated our anniversary there last year.”
“Did you get a room and have wild, passionate sex? Please say yes!”
Ben looks at me.
I say, “Would I be telling too much if I said I could hardly walk the next day?”
Ben smiles, relieved.
Roy, all smiles, says, “So. You’re a tiger in bed, are you, Ben?”
Ben shrugs.
He hands me his cell phone. “I took some pictures of the place. Is it just the way you remembered?”
A cold chill goes through my veins as I take the phone and see the first picture. It’s a young blonde sitting in the parlor, face turned downward, texting something on her cell phone. The next picture is a close up of a napkin with red lipstick on it with the words Call Me! and a cell phone number.
My cell phone number.
The next four pictures were taken in my hotel room by Carter Teague, who was apparently snapping them from behind me while I was removing my clothes, facing Roy. She caught me in various stages of undress, including my entire naked backside, and sure enough, she even managed to squeeze off a shot of my full frontal nudity before I jumped behind the chair.
It dawns on me if I hadn’t turned on the small lamp behind me, these images would have never been visible. It’s also clear Carter Teague forwarded the pictures to Roy’s phone while I was getting dressed. I destroyed her cell phone, but Roy already had the photos.
His “best birthday present ever” continues.
“Let me see,” Ben says.
“Shall I share them with Ben?” I ask Roy.
“Your choice,” he says, evenly.
“They’re a little hard to make out, sweetheart,” I say. “Do you have your glasses with you?”
Ben reaches inside his coat pocket for his glasses and puts them on.
“Good!” I say. “Though I’m not sure you’ll be overly impressed with the quality. No offense, Roy.”
I note the stunned expression on Roy’s face before handing his cell phone to Ben.
BEN SCANS THE pictures and frowns.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he says.
“They’re nude photos of a woman,” I say.
Ben places Roy’s phone on the table.
“I know that,” he says. “What I don’t understand is why Roy wanted to show them to you.”
I look at Roy.
“Why would you feel comfortable showing me nude pictures of you and a hooker?”
Roy grabs the phone and starts flipping through the photos. What he sees is I’ve erased the photos of me and left the ones he took of him having sex with Carter Teague after I left. I may not be a successful private eye, but I’m a good one. I know how to get evidence, and how to destroy it. As a plus, even though I’m not a gym rat, I could possibly hold my own against Roy should he decide to throw a punch at me.
“I don’t know how you did that,” he says angrily, “but this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
Ben and I exchange a look.
“I saw that!” Roy says.
“Sorry,” I say, “but you seem upset.”
He’s more than upset, he’s livid.
“Don’t celebrate yet, sweet meat. I can still pull the photos from my SIM card.”
“I think we’ve seen enough photos, Roy,” Ben says.
“You think, Benny boy? You just wait. You’ll see.”
In the car, on the way home, Ben says, “Unbelievable.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve never seen him that out of control before. He didn’t know how to react.”
“I can’t believe he’d show me naked pictures of himself,” I say, shamelessly.
“Sad to say, that’s not out of character for him.”
“But why would he do that?”
“Ego. He wanted you to see the kind of man you could be with instead of me. Did you see the shock on his face when you handed me his cell phone?”
“It was like he got caught flirting with your wife.”
“He was flirting, and when you showed me his photos it shamed him like he’s never been shamed before. In Roy’s eyes, losing face in front of me is the worst possible insult.”
I glance at Ben’s face. He’s beaming. He catches me looking and says, “I can’t thank you enough for tonight. You’ve done me the biggest favor in the world!”
“How so?”
“Roy calls me a couple of times a year to gloat. Tonight, thanks to you, I’ve beaten him. Now he knows there’s nothing he can say or do to impress me. I expect we’ll never hear from him again!”
Ben laughs.
I laugh too, but I have a feeling he’s wrong about that.
When we get home, Ben asks if we can have sex.
“I know you’re riding a high,” I say, “but we have an arrangement, remember?”
“How could I possibly forget the arrangement?” he says. “If you do it now, I’ll let you skip my birthday.”
This is a good offer. His birthday’s a full day. This is a late night quickie.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” I say.
“How about right here in the kitchen?” he says.
“I’ll do it wherever you like. But first I have to pee.”
“I’ll make it easy on you,” he says. “My bed, two minutes.”
“Can’t wait!” I say, feigning enthusiasm.
I run up the stairs, brush my teeth, toss on a negligee, and catch my reflection in the mirror. Then mouth the words, “Don’t look at me like that, Sofe!”
I get almost to the stairs, then run back to my vanity and search till I find the Daisy, by Marc Jacobs.
Sophie’s perfume.
I dab some on the back of my right hand and make my way down the staircase. When I get to Ben’s bedroom, I remind myself to be fun and flirty. He’s earned this, and I want to do my very best.
Ben’s lovemaking sessions normally last between five and fifteen minutes, depending on whether he’s in the mood for three or thirteen minutes of foreplay. But tonight is a whole different ball of wax.
He’s doing subtle things to me down there. I put the back of my hand over my mouth and make little pretend whimpers while taking in Sophie’s scent. Ben likes the sounds I make, and continues what he’s doing, and before I know it, I’m pretending it’s Sophie, and he’s doing all the things I imagine Sophie doing.
Ben has never approached my body in this manner, and I have to say the little whimpering sounds I’m making are no longer make-believe. I take in Sophie’s scent, think of her, and Ben does his thing, and suddenly I’m moving my head back and forth, making sounds I don’t recognize. The pleasure’s building. I’m breathing faster and faster, my heart’s racing, my face is flushed. My back arches, falls and arches again without any help from me. I’m dizzy. I’m euphoric. I’m…I’m about to explode!
Suddenly I yell, “Give it to me!”
Huh?
Did I really say that?
Ben’s more surprised than I am. But he obliges me. And as he does, I immediately go from physical to mental, which means I no longer feel the flush, the excitement, the sexual engagement. Is it because he’s a man?
No.
It’s because I confused myself.
Had I been excited thinking of Sophie? Yes. But if so, why did I yell for Ben?
I needed him.
I’m more confused than ever. But not so confused I miss the signals Ben’s giving me. He’s nearly done, so I make the passionate sounds he’s hoping to hear, and let him kiss me. I kiss him back, and touch him in ways that bring him a swift and happy ending. Then I lie in Ben’s arms a respectable length of time, kiss him goodnight, trudge up the stairs, climb into my bed, and cry myself to sleep.
WEDNESDAY MORNING
“THAT’S THE MOST insane thing I’ve ever heard!” Sophie says.
She’s talking about dinner with Roy, not sex with Ben. I haven’t told her about Ben, and probably won’t. I’m at my real office, not the one at home, and we’ve been on the phone more than two hours, dissecting every detail of what transpired last night at the restaurant with Roy.
I know lots of women who have guy friends. I have some too, but this is the type of conversation I could never have with them. With guys, you tell them the story, they ask a question or two, you’re done. But a
girlfriend will ask for the exact wording of each comment, and the tone with which it was spoken. What did he mean by that? will be dissected, debated, and analyzed fifteen different ways before the next comment is parsed. It’s a matter of layering one detail on top of another, no matter how minute, after factoring in such things as facial expression, nuance, history, wardrobe, eye color, skin tone, bone structure, fragrance, wind velocity, and curvature of the earth.