Antidote to Infidelity (54 page)

Oh my God. This is
it. Crunch time. The open door to Revengeville. What now?

Do I want it, don
’
t I want it? Is this
really
the antidote to Will’s infidelity? Will getting even
really
ease the
pain? Will I regret it? Hate every minute? Or
love
every second and
re-live it ever after with vengeful satisfaction?

Oh help.

Avoiding his eyes, I
’
m sucking air so sharply I
’
m practically
panting
. I
can
’
t think, I can
’
t focus, I can
’
t
decide
. . . until an
open-legged image of Will’s hospital whore, clad in full flirty uniform and
crochless panties, pops up and seals the deal.

Snapping, I sprawl
across the table, catching Mike completely off guard with a clumsy, desperate
kiss. Cupping his face like I do Will
’
s, I try to clear my
mind, let go, play out my rightful role. But as his fishy tongue swims into my
mouth and his hand comes to rest on my thigh, I freeze.

This doesn
’
t feel right. At
all. Oh God, not even close.

As reality kicks in
and I
realise
what’s happening, I’m blinded by a kaleidoscope of
memories; Will, upside down on a blazing summer’s afternoon; Will leaning in
shyly to steal his first kiss; Will, down on one knee asking me to marry him;
Will, crying silent, joyful tears as he gently cradles his newborn children.

Oh, what have I
done? What was I thinking? I need to stop this now – I need to go home.

It wouldn’t matter
if this was the most spectacular, sensual kiss in the world - the truth is, it
would
never
be right. It could
never
mean anything and I’d
never
enjoy it . . . because these lips aren
’
t Will’s.

And to be quite
honest, they aren’t anywhere near as snoggable as I imagined. 

Appalled with
myself, I struggle free,
then catch a fleeting glimpse of Bianca fighting her way towards us like a
charging bull. Clip-clopping over at break-neck speed in towering stilettos,
she shoves me into my seat with a frosty scowl before swiping the crockery
flying and staring daggers at Mike.

“
How
dare
you?
”
he snaps, regarding Bi with
humiliated contempt as he fishes a chunk of broken glass out of his prawns.
“
What the
hell
do you
think you
’
re doing?
”

I stare at Bianca,
immediately siding with Mike despite my change of heart.

He has a bloody good
point. What the hell is she doing?

“
Just . . . making
sure
,
”
Bianca seethes, coolly holding
his stare.
“
You devious
bastard,
you crafty fucking
snake
, I didn
’
t recognise you with
your
clothes
on.
Different hairstyle, same arsehole.”

Utterly aghast and
sensing things are about to go horribly, embarrassingly, irreversibly wrong, I
grab for Bianca
’
s wrist to drag her
outside.

I miss.

Green eyes flashing
with fury, she lunges across the table and swings for Mike, catching him square
on the chin with a hefty right hook. As his chair reels backwards and he lands
head first, legs aloft, in the foaming fountain, I squeal,
“
Bianca, you silly
cow
,
you
’
re
bang
out
of order!
”

Turning my back on
my insane friend, I scuttle to help Mike to his feet as the burly security team
burst through the entrance, seizing Bi by the arms.

“
Oh I am, am I?
”
she sniggers, taking a vicious
kick at Mike as he attempts to clamber back over the slippery wall.
“
Well you listen good, princess.
Before you go jumping head first into bed with Doctor Evil here, you wanna make
sure it
’
s
you
he
wants to jump.
”

“
What do you
mean
?
”
I wail, dabbling Mike
’
s busted nose with a napkin,
“
It
’
s none of your business
what
I do. I know you
’
re
jealous
and all buddy-buddy with Will, but I
’
m a big girl and I
’
ll do what I
like
!
”

“
Oh I know
that
, Sally,
you always
do
,
”
Bianca spits,
wagging her finger under my nose.
“
But do it knowing
this: the last time I saw this
prick
in action, he was standing naked
over my hubby spanking his saggy arse with a ping-pong bat!
”

As a medley of
shocked
‘
ooohs
’
and
‘
aaahs
’
ripple around the restaurant,
I gasp in horror, drop the blood-smeared napkin and scramble across the floor
away from Mike.

Turning to see his
eyes narrow and his swelling jaw drop a foot, I know he, too, has recognised
Bianca. And I
know
she
’
s telling the truth.

“
Bi . . . I,
”
I cry, turning to grab her
hand. She snatches it away with an angry toss of her hair.

“
No, Sally,
”
she snaps, wriggling out of
the bouncers
’
grasps and
smoothing her red leather jacket.
“
This jealous cow
’
s done what she came to do, now
you
’
re on your own.”

As Bianca, ever the
lady, gives Mike the middle finger and stalks out of the restaurant, a thousand
eyes burn into me as I slump into my chair. Choking back tears, I glare at the
drenched doctor before me, trying to come to terms with what I
’
ve just witnessed. And, of
course, the alarming fact that my debonair dinner date is little more than a
husband-spanking sexual predator.

All at once, as the
wide-eyed well-to-do of Nottingham look on, face-slapping clarity strikes. This
isn
’
t about
me
.
It never has been.

“
Mike,
”
I say shakily as he squelches
back into his seat,
“
It’s not
me
you want, is it?
”

“
No,
”
he snaps, without hesitation,
wringing out his sopping shirt with a frown.

“
Have you
ever
wanted me?
”
I demand, knowing full well
that if the answer is ‘no’, I
’
ve been screwed
right royally. For the past three weeks.

“
You wouldn
’
t be my
first
choice,
”
he sighs, pressing the
ice-stuffed tea towel he
’
s been handed to his
mouth,
“
But I can explain.
”

“
DON
’
T
!
”
I snap, shuddering as he pats
my hand.
“
Don
’
t you
dare
.
”
Then, realising I need
some
form of justification, however lame, for my own sanity, I hiss,
“
Yeah, you know what, go on -
explain away. Let
’
s hear it, Mike.
”

Feeling like the
world
’
s biggest fool, I
fold my arms and wait, along with the rest of the restaurant who, by now, are
understandably somewhat enthralled.

Squirming and
soaked, he attempts a knicker-twister but crashes and burns.

“
Let
’
s not do this Sally,
”
he begs.
“
Not here, eh?” Then, with a
wicked wink, “How about we go back to my place?
”

“
How about you get
fucked
?
”
I scream, aiming a crusty
bread roll at his head.

“
You don
’
t send a girl flowers, take her
to dinner and string her along like a yo-yo when really you
’
re wanting to
shag her
husband
. . .
”

“
Look
,
”
Mike snaps, losing his cool as
the seeded cob bounces off his cheek and the meanest heavy mutters
‘
pervert
’
.
“
I
’
ve
never been anything but
honest
with you. I don
’
t
need
this shit. I
asked you here tonight to talk about
Will
. Or, more to the point, him
leaving
you
. It
’
s not
my
fault you
’
re so far up your
own arse you see what you want to see.
”

“
What I . . . what I . . .
what
?
”
I cry.
“
What was I
supposed
to
see? You take me home, call me beautiful, dry clean my shirt, turn up where I
work . . .
”

“
I dry cleaned
Will
’
s
shirt,
”
he corrects me cockily, toying
with his cufflinks.
“
And I only took
you
home because I met your hubby in the waiting room and knew he
’
d be waiting. As for the
Strikers,
hell,
that had nothing to
do with
you
. What bi-guy in his right
mind
’
s
gonna turn down the
chance to get his healing hands on an entire pro hockey team? I mean,
come
on
.”

Charming charade
caput, he pours himself a fresh wine, revelling in the spotlight as he and our
captivated audience await my response.

“
Oh,
sure, the players I
get,
”
I hiss, launching
the condiments at him.
“
But Will? He
’
s a
married man
for
Christ
’
s sake!
”

“A married man who’s busy
dipping his wick elsewhere,” he scoffs, ducking the vinegar. “I’ll admit it, I
saw a fit guy with a roving eye and fancied my chances. Still do, as a matter
of fact.”

Stunned, I can’t
hold my tears as he mocks,
“
Oh, don
’
t play the poor scorned wifey,
you
don
’
t want him. He
’
s a
complete bastard
and
a lowlife
and an
adulterous shit head.
We
’
ll get on like a house on fire.
Drink, fuck, watch footie.
What’s not to like?”

“
Will
’
s not
gay
,
”
I say through gritted teeth as
the eviction posse approach us.

“Too true,” he agrees, before
mouthing “yet” behind his hand with an arrogant nod.

Flinging a flurry of placemats,
I scream “No. No
yet
. Not now, not
ever
. Will loves
me
, do
you hear me -
ME
!”

“Yet he bones Becky!” he laughs
cruelly. “We
all
bone Becky, the hospital bike!
One day, like old Howie, he
’
s gonna wake up and realise
that women - paah! Screw that, they
’
re just not worth
the
hassle.
You’ll get
your marching orders, he’ll get his bollocks back, I’ll get
my
share of
the spoils - we’ll
all
be happy!”