Prologue:
Sure, we'd had a fight that day. But what was new?
When he didn't come home at dinnertime, I called the office. "Oh, I have to work late," he'd told me. "Sorry about that."
No mention of this being our two-year anniversary. Okay, I thought. I'm a good wife. I can do this. I can take dinner to my husband.
So what if I hadn't been a good wife so far? We fought more than we talked. I couldn't remember the last time he'd touched me. I would make this marriage work, dammit. I'd given up everything for him. My family, my friends, my home, my job.
My parents hadn't liked him, but they'd passed away in an accident six months ago. I'd flown home, alone, for the funeral. My best friend Aaron's face had lit up when I hugged him, but that was it. At the end of the funeral, I knew that my best friend was gone, too.
The anniversary dinner I'd made was ruined. No matter. There was a restaurant just outside Jonathan's law firm. I waited while they prepared dinner for two, and then smiled patiently when the upscale bistro charged me an arm and a leg.
I entered the building carrying a load. The front secretary was gone, either for the day or taking a bathroom break. I didn't want to wait; I had hot food in my arms.
The glass elevator rode up to his floor. As I left it, I passed by the conference room. Jonathan's boss was working late with some men that didn't work at the firm. Must be prospective new clients, I thought to myself. He gave me a little finger wave and I continued on my way to my husband's office.
I opened the door slowly, quietly. His lights were turned down low, way low. How could he work without light? If he'd fallen asleep, I didn't want to disturb his rest.
And then I heard the moans. The sounds, wet flesh slapping against wet flesh. I flipped on the bright, fluorescent lights.
The secretary was taking a break. I knew from personal experience that this was a ten minute break, max.
Rage filled me. Not hurt. They broke apart, as if they could deny the act by being separated. As if I wouldn't notice that they were stark naked, with their groins shiny, covered in body fluids.
"Happy anniversary, darling," I said brightly.
I could tell by his face that he'd completely forgotten.
"Kathy, how do you take your lasagna? It's still hot," I warned.
I set the bag down on the small credenza next to me and ripped it apart. The rip sounded indecently loud in the quiet office.
I opened the lasagna and watched the steam rise. I scooped my hand in, burning my fingers. It was damn hot, but I didn't care.
I flung handfuls at her. She screeched in bloodcurdling screams, the selfish twit. As if I wasn't burning too. As if I hadn't been burned first.
I barely heard Jonathan's shouts to stop. Glass broke as I flung the champagne at him, narrowly missing his head and smashing against his computer instead. Liquid leaked into the machine, fizzing and snapping, and I finally felt the tiniest bit of satisfaction.
Jonathan rarely cared to back up. He arrogantly assumed that his computer would never crash.
I never noticed when he approached me, demanding that I stop. There was so much screaming from Kathy, and yelling from me. He grabbed my left arm, and I doubled up my fist and smacked him with my already-burned right hand.
That was how the men from the conference room found us. Kathy sobbing, covered in bright red skin, either from burns or lasagna.
Jonathan still naked, one side of his face covered in the red tomato sauce and his eye nearly swollen shut underneath. Oh, and his shiny purple tallywhacker, still covered with Kathy's sauce, flapping in the breeze.
"What the hell's going on here?" Jonathan's boss roared. The men with him snickered. They were foreigners, and screamed money. Armani suits, although one wore a traditional looking head wrap. Probably needed the prestigious New York law firm for an oil deal.
"I'm pressing charges," Kathy still sobbed. "She struck Jonathan, and I'm already blistering from the burns."
It occurred to me at that moment that I hadn't yet struck her.
I was across the room in two seconds. My best friend Aaron had taught me well. The hit resounded with a satisfying smack, and her head whipped in slow motion, like watching a pro boxer on TV. Blood from her mouth sprayed the wall beside her. And more importantly...gone was a front tooth.
Jonathan came at me, only to find his boss blocking his path.
"Don't touch her," Walt said calmly.
"What do you mean, don't touch her? She's my wife, I do as I please."
"You've done enough."
"Yeah, well, too bad you can't."
There was dead silence following this statement. Even Kathy stopped her hideous sobbing.
Everyone knew that Walt had a little bedroom problem. We all knew it, but no one ever, ever said it out loud.
"If it wasn't for your father, I'd have done away with you long ago," he said to Jonathan, as he led me from the room.
"Gentlemen, please, return to the conference room. I'll only be a moment," he tossed over his shoulder to the waiting men.
Walt pulled me into his office and got ice from his posh little bar.
"Did you know about him and Kathy?" I asked.
"I'm sorry," was all he said in response, as he tended to my hand. "She won't press charges, Victoria. I'll threaten to fire her."
"Thanks, but Jonathan will."
"You know I'll help you where I can."
"I'm sorry about his comment to you."
He was silent for a moment, his eyes closed in pain. "I guess everyone knows, huh?"
"But no one else would be so hurtful as to voice it," I said.
It was then that I got a bright idea. The idea to spread a rumor, a different rumor - than the one of me catching Jonathan and Kathy.
A pretend rumor of Jonathan's upset at catching me...
"Walt," I said.
His unibrow rose.
"Can you threaten Jonathan somehow? To keep silent about tonight? Cover the whole thing up?"
"I have something to blackmail him with," he said slowly. "Why?"
I wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him to me. I whispered huskily, in a new voice I would term my Lolita, and said, "I think we can help each other out."
Chapter 1:
My name is Victoria Jenkins and that's how I was known. Victoria Jenkins, the wife of Jonathan Jenkins, attorney at law. Now I'm just Tori, the ex-wife of Jonathan Jenkins. Not that we'd been married long for me to be bitter enough to change my name. It was Jonathan's idea, actually. Victoria was much more proper than the shortened version of Tori, which I'd grown up with, so I used my full name during my brief marriage.
What I was bitter about was being the proper housewife, wearing the proper clothes, making the proper conversation. And when I found Jonathan banging his secretary on our two-year anniversary, I even did the proper thing and stormed out. I think what pushed me over the edge was Jonathan calmly telling me to get used to it. If we were going to stay married for any length of time, he wasn't about to be bored with one woman, not when there were so many other luscious gifts out there. By the way, luscious gifts to Jon were boob jobs. Why can't a man talk this way before you marry him?
So I did what any normal, un-bitter, willing to soon-be-divorced housewife would do. I decided to find the secret to a happy divorce. Happy for me, not for Jonathan. He had the happy marriage; I would have the happy divorce.
The first step was easy. I slept with all of his friends, his colleagues, and even his boss. I made sure to brag about each one of them, stoking egos, crooning about how wonderful each one was compared to Johnny. (He hates having his name shortened.) Ooh, and the size of each tamale. I'd never had anything so big, so thick, so wonderful in all my life. They all sucked it up. Do men not have measuring tapes?
It took no time at all for the divorce. I guess having a husband that knows people in high places comes in handy. And better yet, sleeping with people in high places works out pretty good, too. Thanks to Johnny's boss, I got the whole house, everything in it, the cars, the checking account. Do I feel guilty over this arrangement? Hell, no. Johnny got his secretary, right?
I sold the house, the furniture, and Johnny's car. I had a good-sized nest egg sitting in my now individual account, so I called up my best friend Aaron and decided to move back across the country. Aaron's a cop, living in the small town in Colorado where we grew up. I hadn't spoken to him in a while, he and Johnny never got along.
"Hello?" Just the sound of his voice made me homesick.
"Aaron."
"Shit, Tori. It's the middle of the night. Sorry -Victoria." Jonathan had not only disliked having my name shortened, he didn't like me talking to my childhood friend at all.
"It's alright. Actually, I decided to go back to Tori. I'm divorced now." There was dead silence.
"Where are you?"
"I'm still in New York. I've decided to drive back home, take the scenic route, have a vacation. You're still my best friend, Aaron."
"Shit, you want me to fly out and drive back with you, don't you?"
I didn't know how to dignify that without resorting to begging, and I have a lot of pride. It comes from my Native American great-grandmother. I got her deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and skin that tans without burning. From my white father's side, though, I got wavy blond hair. If you asked me, it was totally incongruous with the Cherokee features. However, guys dug it.
Aaron sighed. "Let me sleep, Tori. I'll fly out tomorrow."
It took Aaron most of the day to fly. I picked him up at the airport, he just had a couple of carry-ons. I flew into his arms, and he hugged me tight. Aaron is the most handsome guy I know. Blond hair, blue eyes, dimples. A muscular physique, but not too muscular. More sleek, like a cat. Paired with a mellow, easygoing personality.
"What am I going to do with you? I haven't talked to you in a year and a half and you call me out of the blue to have an adventure driving cross-country. I leave my partner in a lurch, taking time off, and here I am. Let's go have dinner." You could count on Aaron for an insatiable appetite.
After a long dinner at which I thought Aaron would never stop eating, we went back to my room. I'd never booked him a room; hell, I had a king sized bed. And this was Aaron, after all. We'd had countless sleepovers growing up and were always in each other's homes.
Although I thought twice about it when I was just falling asleep. By unspoken agreement, we'd kept the conversation light, avoiding the subject of my marriage. He knew I would talk when I was ready. He also knows I tend to bottle things up. The bottling up is my downfall. Makes me talk in my sleep, which Aaron knew from various childhood sleepovers. I woke up the next morning to see him watching me. It startled me enough to make my heart race. That in turn made me grumpy.
"I hate it when you do that. It creeps me out." I said.
He grinned and tugged on my hair. That grin said it all. It told me he did indeed remember how much I hated that.
"You didn't talk in your sleep last night."
Whew. I'd managed to hold it in. I am the Goddess of Self Control. I felt my chest swell with pride.
"You just cried softly." Stick a pin in me. Burst my bubble.
I got up and showered, getting dressed while Aaron took his. It was a no-makeup kind of day, my hair was given a quick blow dry and then I decided it was too wild. I stuck it up in a loose scrunchie and we were off.
I drove, since it was my car. Besides, I needed something to grip while I told him about the shambles of my marriage.
Sharing my marriage with him was a difficult job. Aaron had been my protector all through school. I had been a scrawny thing, 95 lbs soaking wet. Unfortunately, ten of those pounds were all hair. Hair down to my waist, never any boobs. Training bra straight up til my senior year. And, of course, no boyfriends whatsoever.
Aaron, on the other hand, was pursued relentlessly. Straight-A student, football star, perfect in every way. The summer during our junior year I stayed with my Aunt Rose in Kansas and got a brilliant idea. I returned to school more filled out. Suddenly, members of the opposite sex were interested in me.
Billy Herrera was one so interested. We'd gone out a couple times until Billy copped a feel and came up with a handful of Kleenex. My popularity ended, my flat chest returned, and Aaron spent his senior year with constant black eyes from defending me. On the upside, all that fighting got him into the police field.
"I guess you want to know what happened." I started.
"Only if you're ready to tell me."
"I caught Jonathan with his secretary. And - he told me he wasn't ready to call it off. If I wanted to stay married to him I was going to have to learn to share, basically."
"Fucking bastard."
"It's my own fault. I should have known better than to meet someone, have a quickie wedding and move across the country with stars in my eyes."
"Tori, it's not your fault. Tell me you kicked his ass."
"Not exactly. I did sleep with all his friends, co-workers, and boss, though."
Stunned disbelief. Then he hooted with laughter.
The trip was a long one, and we spent the entire time catching up. He told me about his partner on the force, Jake Henderson. They seemed to be well-matched personality wise, and shared the same goody-two-shoe values. Not that I'd say that to Aaron's face. All in all, they were pretty good friends as well as partners.
I tried to tell him about my married life and my friends without sounding like a complete idiot. Which was really hard to do. I gave it to him in a flat, unemotional voice. I knew Aaron like I knew myself, and he would insist on hunting down my ex. So I focused instead on the divorce, my settlement, and assured him that I wouldn't have to mooch off him. Aaron's face softened.
"You're never a mooch, Tori."
I looked away, determined not to cry. No tears. This was a turning point in my life. Why, I was practically a rich widow.
Except for the having a dead husband part.
Three days later, and totally exhausted, we finally arrived in our home state of Colorado. I drove straight to Aaron's, and he helped me unload my few possessions. Personal possessions, because most of everything purchased in my marriage was sold.
"Spare bedroom?" he asked.
"Just til I find someplace, okay?" I assured him, still not wanting to mooch. It seemed to upset him.
"Dammit, Tori, you can stay as long as you want."
"No, Aaron. I'll find my own place."
I unpacked my suitcases and wandered into the living room. Bachelor pad. Everything in the house was black lacquer. Yuck. Aaron was on the phone and quickly hung up. "I took steaks out for dinner. Do you want to go out to the pool and soak up sun?"
"Sounds good to me."
"By the way, lots of times my partner swings by for dinner. You'll like him." I turned around halfway up the stairs.
"I would've."
"What do you mean by that?"
"If your partner had been a her instead of a him, I might have. I am totally and completely sworn off men of every size, shape, and color."
Aaron rolled his eyes. "You're not his type anyway. You're too quirky for anyone I know."
Unfortunately, Aaron was right. I was unusually quirky, and I seemed to attract strange characters. It was a problem I was working on.
I went upstairs to change into the skimpiest suit I owned. After all, I was white as a ghost. Although, in a week I'd have a full-on golden tan. How lucky was I to have the Cherokee skin? I walked outside to the pool and heard voices talking quickly. There was silence when I appeared until Aaron opened his big mouth.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, Tori. Where'd you get those?" I glanced down at my average-sized chest, puzzled. Then it dawned on me.
"Oh, you mean Sara and Sally? They finally appeared after high school. I guess all those years of praying finally paid off."
"Wow. You're such a - girl. You used to be flatter than me."
I narrowed my eyes at him and turned to his friend. I was vaguely aware of Aaron introducing his partner, but I was speechless for a moment. Standing before me was no less than a god. Dark hair but amber eyes made for an interesting combination. And muscles as far as the eye could see. I never thought I was the type of girl who was attracted to a bodybuilder, but here the guy was in trunks and no shirt and all I can do is salivate. He must have stood at 6'2", and did I mention the muscles?
His lips turned up slightly at the corners. I snapped my mouth shut and tore my gaze away.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Tori. I've heard a lot about you. I hope we can be friends."
Yum. I had a brief moment where I was thinking more than friends. Reality brought me down to earth, and the usual depression sunk in as the knowledge of my failed marriage crashed down around my head. Who would want me? You could dress me up, but my husband still preferred the lowly secretary.
The three of us had a good night. We ate, we relaxed, we swam, we drank. Aaron and Jake were fun to be around, although I couldn't seem to keep my eyes off Jake. There was no way I'd let either one of them know, though. They'd get the wrong idea, and the right idea was that I was not interested in any type of male/female relationship. But don't get me wrong. I also was not interested in a female/female relationship.
Sex I could handle. A relationship, no way.
It wasn't long before Aaron was yawning, followed by Jake. Myself, I'm a night person.
"I think I'm gonna shower and hit the sack," Aaron said.
"'Night," I chimed.
"Yeah, I'm tired too," Jake answered. "I'll see you tomorrow, man." They did some weird handshake thing.
"I'll lock up, Aaron," I said, since someone had to see Jake out.
I waited - oh okay, I watched while Jake toweled off. He put on his shirt and shorts, and slid his feet into sandals. We walked to the front door.
"So, Tori. If you need anyone to take you around or anything, let me know. I know Aaron can't take more time off, but I can."
"Thanks, Jake." I was unsure how to take this. Friendship would be great, a casual night in the sack would be great, but was he coming on to me? This could be awkward considering he's Aaron's friend and partner, and I was about to shoot him down. "I would like you to know - I'm not looking for any kind of relationship right now."
"Everyone can use a friend, Tori."
This was simpler than I thought. "Yes, a friend would be good."
"Of course, are you planning on staying single forever?"
I thought about it. "Yes."
"No kids ever in your future?"
"Even when I was married, there were no kids in my future. I don't know if I'm cut out to be the maternal type. And I'm definitely not cut out to be the wifely type."
"That's too bad, Tori. You'd make a perfect wife and mother." Jake smiled at me, and lightly kissed my cheek. It was a sweet, brotherly type of kiss. I could hardly object to it. Right?
I fought the urge to throw myself at him.
When Aaron went to work the next day, I spent the day cleaning his house. I made some dinner for the three of us, figuring Jake would be coming home with him. I wasn't disappointed. Afterward, Aaron and Jake decided we would watch movies so a run to the local movie store was in order.
"Okay, Tori, you made dinner so me and Jake will go get the movies." Aaron decided.
"Wait a minute. If you and Jake are going, it's going to be blood and gore or porn, right?"
"What else is there?"
I sighed. "I'll give you a choice. You can have porn, as long as there's men-on-men action."
Both guys turned wide-eyed faces toward me.
"They do that?" Jake whispered.
"Okay," Aaron said, when he could speak again, "change of plans. You can go with Jake and pick out what you want, except for the porn - and I'll clean up."
"Okay." Jake agreed quickly. Too quickly.
We left in Jake's SUV and drove to the rental store. As we got out, there was a group of men sitting in the back of a truck in the parking lot. He placed his hand possessively on my lower back as he steered me inside. I didn't say anything, since he was being so protective. It would have been kind of sweet, except for the fact that I was stuck on the sensations. His hand spanned my lower back, leaving a hot imprint that sent shivers up my spine.
I had to move away from him in the video store, just so I could regain my breath. Compromising on the movie, we settled on a comedy. We had just climbed back into the car when Jake turned towards me. A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead, and his eyelids looked heavy and sultry. God, the expression in his eyes was of a man starved, as hungry as the look in my own eyes, I'm sure.
"Would you like to go out sometime?"
I looked at him, puzzled. Didn't we have this conversation? Like, last night?
He continued, "Just you and me?"
"Um, no." My voice was definite, as I chanted mentally, fight the urge - fight the urge - fight the urge.
He just smiled and we drove back to Aaron's. I was a little confused as to where this left us, but Jake didn't seem confused. He was calm, easygoing.
Just like Aaron.
We got out of the truck and walked up the front steps. Before going inside, however, he placed his hand on my shoulder to halt me.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to go out? As in a date?"
"Yup. I am sure."
He leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of my bare shoulder. I was wearing a halter-top that tied around the neck, leaving both shoulders bare. His lips were as hot as his hand was earlier and I paused on the porch for a few moments, giving him time to press a few more of those steamy little nibbles on my skin.
"Umm. You taste like sugar. My very own Sugarpie."
He was smooth, very smooth. But not smooth enough.
"Still sure." I opened the door and walked inside, leaving him to follow.
The three of us watched the movie, and more than once I sensed Jake's eyes on me. When it was over, I retired to my room, a little desperately.
I consoled myself with the thought that I would let Aaron and Jake have some manly time together. To do whatever manly men do.
The next morning I awoke and smelled breakfast. Following my nose down the stairs, I gave a quick glance around. There was no Jake. I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed. Aaron poured me a cup of coffee.
"It'll be 98 today. It's already 88. Jake's on his way, we're living in the water today."
"Not much else to do when it's that hot," I said.
"By the way, Tori..." His voice trailed off, and I looked up.
"Jake told me he asked you out."
I sipped the coffee and continued watching him, in silence.
"And you said no."
I continued watching. I wasn't going to give an inch.
"Tori, some response would be nice."
"What do you want? Sounds like you got the scoop."
"Do you like him?"
"He's nice. But I have issues."
"So does he."
"Honestly, Aaron. I don't need another relationship right now. Maybe not for a while. Maybe not ever."
"He likes you. A lot. I can tell." There was some silence before he continued. "The two of you are a lot alike. When you left, I missed you. Jake filled that void when we became partners. Now that you're back, I realize that he's so much like you that it actually helped when I missed you because he's as loyal as you are, and honest to the point of hanging himself. Just like you."
"He's a great guy. Really. But what happens if we go out and it gets ugly? Will you want to work with him knowing he's screwed me over?"
There was silence and my last sentence seemed to echo in the quiet kitchen. Lord, I sounded like I needed a therapist.
"That didn't come out right." I said, looking down at my coffee and feeling foolish.
Aaron came up behind me and encircled his arms around my middle. He kissed my temple, and whispered in my ear.
"He won't screw you over, Tori. No one will. You'd never allow it."
I allowed my best friend to hug me for just a moment, wondering why Aaron was still single. Still, as much as I loved Aaron, the wondrous sensations weren't there when I thought of him. Not like when I thought of Jake.
And then, tough girl that I am, slipped out of his embrace and gave him a cheeky grin as I headed back upstairs to find my swimsuit.
* * * * * *
The three of us sat in companionable silence for a while. I was thinking this was nice, quiet, the sun warm on my belly and thighs. I snuck a peek at Jake next to me and had a sudden urge to whip off my bikini top and let the girls swing free. I sighed, mostly to fight the urge to giggle. Aaron would probably not approve.
What was wrong with good, old-fashioned one-night stands? They were all the rage a few years ago. When did my best friend become all touchy-feely and insist upon a relationship for his friend?
"So what's on the agenda for tomorrow, Tori?" Aaron asked, cutting into my thoughts.
"Job hunting. I like quiet." Hint, hint. Why does everyone like to talk when you're relaxing, soaking up rays? "I think I'll be a librarian."
The idea sounded pretty good as soon as it slipped out of my mouth. So what if I had no training and no degrees behind my name? This was Small Town, Colorado, where computers were unheard of. The biggest technology here was rubber signature stamps.
* * * * * *
