Betrayal (23 page)

Preston jumped up.
“What!
Not in my own house!” he screamed.

Michele threw her hands up to her face as if she were crying, when in actuality she was hiding a broad smile. Her off-the-cuff lie was extremely effective, and Preston was finally steaming mad.

“How dare they have sex in my home? I can’t believe it! And to think I trusted both of them. Once I get through with them, they’re going to regret the day they betrayed me!” he ranted, flailing his hands in the air.

Michele had gotten the desired response from him, but she still didn’t want Preston to breathe a word. If he confronted them at this point, they would dispute her lies. She needed more time to pussy-whip Preston. She wanted him totally smitten with her, so by the
time the truth came out, he wouldn’t know exactly who to believe—her or his cheating wife and son.

“Do you think it’s wise to confront them now?” she asked, looking at him pointedly.

“Why not?” Preston didn’t see any reason why the cards shouldn’t be laid out on the table. The game was over, and now it was time for the blinding truth.

“Look at their track record. They’ve done nothing but lie to you since day one, and what makes you think they won’t lie once you confront them?” she asked, but didn’t give Preston a chance to answer. “Your best bet is to catch them in the act. And in order to do that, you need to set up surveillance cameras. That way you’ll have tangible evidence to support your allegations.” Michele was speaking so fast that she nearly ran her words together.

“Hmm.” He thought for a second. “I guess you have a good point. On the other hand, why do I need tangible evidence? You saw them firsthand, and Ariel has already confessed her affair to me.”

Shit!
Michele wasn’t prepared for that question, but she wasn’t going to be outdone at this point. “Don’t forget that you’re married to a partner in a law firm, and what if she uses her firm to rake you over the coals in a heated divorce suit? Just because she has money of her own, doesn’t mean she won’t go after yours. You know what they say, ‘It’s nothing worse than a woman scorned.’ I realize that you’re the scorned one, but you never know how she’ll react if you ask for a divorce,” she said, quickly throwing in the
D
word. “You’ve worked too hard to give up half of your fortune to an adulteress who’s been sleeping with your
son,”
she said, adding that little sting at the end.

Preston hadn’t thought that far ahead, but Michele was right. If Ariel was determined to live her life with Trey, she wouldn’t be living it with any of his hard-earned money. “I guess you have a point.”

Michele silently breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally seeing her point of view and she was ecstatic. “Preston, we need to let them believe that everything is status quo. The best game plan is to let them think we know nothing, and once we’ve gathered enough evidence, they’ll have no choice but to confess, and then the ball will be
in our court,” she said, subliminally incorporating herself into the equation.

Preston couldn’t believe that his marriage had gone from happy to helpless in less than twenty-four hours. Not only had Ariel cheated before they got married, but she had also committed adultery with his son! He and Michele were busy talking about Trey and Ariel, and hadn’t really touched on last night. He felt like a hypocrite. Here he was talking about his wife’s affair, when he had fucked his assistant. He rationalized that his actions were justified, more like a knee-jerk reaction to his wife’s betrayal. Besides, Preston had no intention of sleeping with Michele ever again. It was a onetime thing, and he planned on keeping it that way.

THE JUDGE
had recessed the trial early for the weekend, and Ariel was elated. She had planned on meeting Trey in D.C. so that they could finally tell Preston the truth, but since she had a few extra hours to spare, she decided to go and visit Mrs. Grant, her foster mother. Mrs. Grant had no clue that Ariel was in town and would be pleasantly surprised. Ariel left the courthouse, jumped in a taxi, and headed over to Greenwich Village to Magnolia Bakery to pick up some of their famous cupcakes. Mrs. Grant still had a houseful of kids, and what child could resist the frosty sugary delight. Ariel enjoyed bringing treats for the kids. They were always so appreciative of every little thing that she brought over. It reminded her of being a child, and looking forward to visitors who came bearing gifts for the orphaned children. Most times it was just a pan of homemade oatmeal cookies, or a buttery pound cake, but to her it was monumental, since she didn’t have parents to shower her with birthday or Christmas presents.

Loaded with an assortment of two dozen mini-cakes, Ariel hailed a taxi, and headed up the West Side Highway. Twenty minutes later, the cab was pulling up in front of Mrs. Grant’s two-storied frame house. As
a kid, Ariel thought that the house was humongous, but looking at it now, it seemed small and frail. The pale yellow exterior was in dire need of a paint job; the gutters were overgrown with vines, and a few of the windows needed to be replaced. She walked up the rickety front steps and pushed the bell, but it didn’t ring. She balanced the pastries and her briefcase with one hand and knocked on the door.

“Baby girl!” Mrs. Grant exclaimed, opening the screen door. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Why aren’t you in Washington with your husband?” Mrs. Grant asked, standing in the doorway.

“Are you going to let me in or are we going to stand out here on the porch for our visit?” Ariel asked, still balancing the cupcakes with one hand.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said as she held the door open wider, “come on in.”

“Here, these are for the kids.” Ariel handed over the pastry boxes. “Where are they anyway?”

“Chile, they in school, thank God.” She chuckled.

Ariel gave Mrs. Grant a warm hug, and then walked into the tiny living room, which was littered with an assortment of toys. Ariel removed a doll and a set of LEGOs from the sofa cushion and sat down. “Mom, why haven’t you gotten the house painted? I sent you money for repairs last year,” Ariel asked, the moment she sat down.

“Now, don’t go fussing at me,” Mrs. Grant said, wiping her hands on her apron and sitting in one of the living room chairs. “I put the money you give me in the bank, to save for these kids’ education. They all ain’t gonna get scholarships like you did, and I wanna make sure that they get a good college education, so that they can take care of themselves, and not depend on the government for handouts the rest of their lives.”

Ariel couldn’t be mad at Mrs. Grant’s intentions. She had a big heart and always put the welfare of her foster children before her own. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me that? I would’ve taken the money and put it in a special account for the children, and paid for the paint
job myself. This house is falling apart around you,” she said, looking up at the water-stained ceiling. “I understand you want to help the kids, and I admire that, but you have to take care of yourself too. Before you say no, I’m going to have a contractor come over next week, and give me an estimate. I’ll take care of the bill. You just make sure you show him everything that needs to be done. And I mean everything. Okay?”

Mrs. Grant looked slightly embarrassed at being chastised by her foster daughter. “Okay, baby girl. I will. Now I know you didn’t come all the way out here to talk about this old house. How you been doing? How’s your husband?” Mrs. Grant never missed an opportunity to talk about Preston. She was so proud to have a Supreme Court justice as a son-in-law, and often bragged about him to her neighbors and church members.

“I’ve been good, just busy that’s all. And Preston is doing okay.”

“Well, I’d say he’s doing more than okay.” Mrs. Grant got up, went over to the cocktail table, and rustled through the many papers and magazines that crowded the surface. She picked up a folded newspaper, and handed it to Ariel.

Ariel took the paper. “What’s this?”

“Read it and see,” Mrs. Grant said, and sat back down.

The paper was folded to the society page of the
Chronicle
, and it was an article about the cocktail party for the president elect. The article itself was basically a rundown of Washington’s Who’s Who, and was unimpressive to Ariel, but what caught her eye was the picture of Preston with the president elect. Her husband looked quite handsome in the black suit that she had bought for him a few months ago. “Actually, I was supposed to be at this party with Preston, but I couldn’t go.”

“And why not?” Mrs. Grant didn’t understand why Ariel would let Preston go to such an impressive affair alone. Back in her day a woman’s place was with her husband. “What’s more important than standing by your husband when he’s meeting the next president of the United States?” Now it was her turn to chastise.

“I would’ve loved to have been there, but I do have a career of my
own,” Ariel said, slightly annoyed. “Mom, things are not like they were when you were married.”

Mrs. Grant cocked her head to one side. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that my world doesn’t revolve around Preston. I wasn’t put on this earth to supply his every need.” As Ariel continued with her ranting, she looked at the solemn expression forming on Mrs. Grant’s face and realized that she was offending the older woman. She then lowered her voice and changed her tune. “Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. I realize that your generation has different views on marriage and family than my generation, but it doesn’t make one opinion better than the other,” she said, trying to smooth things over.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, baby. I just want you to be happy, and appreciate what a good man you have.” She pointed to the article. “Just look how fine he is.” She chuckled, putting her hand to her mouth.

Ariel looked at the picture again. She then did a double take. In the foreground were Preston and the president elect, but in the background, smiling like a contestant in a beauty pageant, was Michele. At first Ariel hadn’t paid her any attention since her eyes went right to Preston, but there Michele was, smiling and profiling like she was hosting the party. “What the hell was she doing there?” Ariel said, underneath her breath.

“What did you say, baby?”

“Oh, nothing, Mom. Excuse me. I need to make an important call,” Ariel said, getting up and going into the kitchen for some privacy.

Ariel called her home number, but the phone just rang. She then called Preston’s cell phone, but her call went straight to voice mail. She started to call Michele, but decided against it, since Michele would probably gloat about schmoozing at the party with the important dignitaries. Ariel needed to talk to her husband and find out why he had brought Michele with him. She began to panic.
What if Michele told him the truth?
She dialed Preston’s private office number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey, how are you?” Ariel asked once he picked up.

“Oh, hi. I’m fine, and you?” Preston decided to take Michele’s advice and not tip his hand, so he pretended like everything was perfect.

He doesn’t sound any different. I’m just being paranoid
, she thought. “I saw your picture in the paper today.”

“Really?” He’d been totally preoccupied dealing with his newfound memory, and hadn’t read any newspapers.

“Yes, it was a picture with you and the president elect; also …” She hesitated, not knowing if she should bring up Michele, and then thought why the hell not. “Michele was in the picture too. What was she doing at the party?”

“She was there in a working capacity,” he said point-blank.

Ariel still had the article clenched in her hand, and looked at the picture again. Michele did have on a conservative-looking dress, and wasn’t showing any cleavage, like she normally did. “Oh.” Ariel didn’t have any other response. What could she say? After all, Michele did work for Preston. “Were there any other assistants at the party?” she wanted to know.

“As a matter of fact, Senator Oglesby brought his assistant, and so did a few of my other colleagues.”

“Oh, okay.” She felt relieved at hearing that Preston wasn’t the only one with his assistant. “Well, I’m coming home today, since we’re off for the weekend.”

“You think that’s necessary? Shouldn’t you focus on the case? Don’t get me wrong; I’d love to see you, honey, but you’ll just be preoccupied with paperwork if you come home. Why don’t you concentrate on winning your case and come home when it’s over.” Preston wasn’t ready to see his wife just yet. He was still trying to wrap his mind around her disloyalty and until he sorted out his feelings, he preferred not to see her face.

“Well, I do have some files to go over, but I miss you so much—”

“I miss you too,” he said, cutting her off. “Tell you what, once you finish your case, we’ll go away for a mini-holiday. How does that
sound?” Preston nearly bit his tongue as he said those words, but if he didn’t want Ariel to become suspicious, then he had to pretend like their relationship was rock solid.

“That sounds heavenly.” She smiled. “Okay, honey, I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”