Deception (3 page)

"What is wrong?" She sounds panicked.

I exhale. "Tracy, I found something while rummaging through Rich's desk this morning. And I'm not sure what I should do about it."

"Do you want to come over? I'm home alone. Where are you?"

"Are you busy? I don't want to put a damper on your―"

"Get over here," she blurts out before I can finish.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting in her backyard holding a martini. "Tell me all about it girl. Tell me everything."

I tell her why I was rummaging through his desk and what I found. "It had well over thirty text messages, but I couldn't get myself to look at them all. Part of me was in shock, another part was feeling guilty for going through his personal stuff, and another part was downright sick. All of the texts were to and from someone named Olivia."

"And you’re sure that these messages aren’t from before you two got together?"

"The latest message was from Valentines of last year." While trying to recall what we did on Valentine’s Day, I'm reminded that I spent it alone because Rich was in Chicago on business―or so that's what he told me.

"Am I the only one that you've told?"

"Yes. I called Laura but she didn't answer her phone. I’ve been going crazy, needing to talk to someone all day."

"Well, let's try to think this through and figure out what you should do. If you confront him now with little information to go on besides what you read, you may end up wrong and then lose his trust. But if you don't confront him now, you may never be able to trust him ever again because you’ll always wonder. But…if you go with plan C, you could always do a bit more digging before you say or do anything. And I could even help."

"Where do I even start?" I ask, feeling defeated.

"Check his current cell phone for an 'Olivia' listed in his contacts. Look for any text messages that may be suspicious. Look through his desk some more. Review the rest of the text messages on the phone you found. That's where I'd start. Hopefully in the process, you find out that it's not even his cell phone."

"I should get home before he starts to wonder what’s up."

"Don't start feeling guilty for what you found. It’ll show on your face and then, yes, he will start wondering what is up. You have every right to find out if that phone is his, and if it is, why he felt the need to be with someone else."

Getting up, I hug her. She kisses my cheek. "Call me, no matter what time it is."

"Thank you for always being there for me."

• • • •

Standing in front of my dad's grave, I’m not sure why I ended up driving here instead of going home. After sitting down, I brush off the grass and weeds from around the stone. “I wish you were here with me right now. I’m not sure what’s happening to my life, but it feels like it's crashing down around me. I'm afraid of what the next few days and weeks ahead are going to reveal. I don't think I can take having my heart shattered one more time. I don't think I can get through it. I miss you so much. You were my rock, daddy. You were the one there to pick me up and hold me up every time life got hard." I sob so hard that my whole body trembles.

After watching the sun go down, I find my composure and plant a kiss on the headstone. Walking to the car, I feel stronger. But I still know that I have to figure out what comes next.

When I get home, Rich is in the office typing on the computer. My stomach begins to ache. "You can do this," I advise myself.

Taking a deep breath, I stand in the doorway. "Hi."

Rich raises his head in my direction. "Hi. I’m glad you're home. Did you have a good time shopping?" he asks, looking down at the bags in my hands.

"Yes, it was nice. Did you eat?"

"No, I was waiting for you. You took a while. I was getting ready to put some burgers on the grill and make a salad."

"Burgers and salad sound good."

After turning off the computer, he gets up from the chair. He walks in my direction, and then pauses. "Are you all right? You look like you've been crying."

"I stopped at my dad's grave."

He nods in acknowledgement and plants a kiss on my cheek. "He's watching over you."

"Yeah. I know. Let me put my bags away and I'll help you prepare dinner,” I respond, turning to make my way upstairs.

"I think we have a couple of steaks we can throw on too,” he adds, walking in the kitchen.

We decide to take our dinner to the living room and watch a movie. While flipping through the movie selections, he clears his throat. "So your mom planned a cruise for next week?"

"Yeah, she said that she spoke to you about it. Will you be able to take time off?"

"I think so. I have to move a few things around, but I should be able to make it happen."

Surprised by his response, I offer a smile. "Great. It’ll be nice to have my family together. We haven't done much since my dad died." He nods, not taking his eyes off the television.

We settle on watching
The Hangover
. We've both seen the movie quite a few times, but it never gets old. He sits at one end of the couch. Lying down at the other end, I rest my feet on his legs. Throughout the movie I can’t help but think about the TracFone and what he could possibly be hiding from me. I keep glancing over at him and he looks as distracted as I am. A few times our eyes meet and we grin or quickly look away. I’m trying not to look like something is up, but it's hard.

Once the movie ends, Rich leans over and rubs my arm. "Can I take you to the bedroom?" he asks, grinning. Quite surprised by his words―it's not Friday after all―I grab his hand and we stroll upstairs.

After taking our clothes off, Rich turns off the bedside light and I get in bed. He lies down next to me and kisses my neck. Then he reaches my mouth, occupying it, while I try to get the text messages out of my mind. He brushes the hair away from my ear. "Are you okay?" he asks, noticing that I’m pre-occupied in thought.

"Yes, of course," I say, breathy, and then pull him in for a kiss. All the while, I try to remain focused on what we’re doing―what I'm supposed to be doing.

Chapter Three

Sunday

April 14, 2013

1:07 a.m.

Unable to fall asleep, I lie in bed listening to the sound of Rich snoring. I venture downstairs and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. Passing by the office, I notice that he left the light on. Reaching in to flip the switch, I see his iPhone sitting on his desk. I contemplate if it’s a good time to search through his contacts and messages.

Hearing him snore upstairs, I rush to his desk and grab the phone. Rushing back out, I hurry down the hallway to the bathroom. After shutting the door behind me, I slide myself down to the floor and press the power button. Anticipating the home screen to appear, my finger freezes in place. I stare down in disbelief. The screen asks for a combination.
He put a lock on his phone?
No, no, no. He can't have his phone locked. Why does he have his phone locked?

I press a variety of number combinations, hoping that one of them will unlock the phone. But none of them do. Laying the phone down on the floor, I stare at the wall.
How am I supposed to find out anything now?
"Damn it," I say a bit too loud.

Getting up from the floor, I bend down and grab the phone. After slowly opening the bathroom door, I look out cautiously. All I hear is the sound of Rich snoring upstairs. I tip-toe back to the office and put the phone on his desk in the exact position that it was found.

After turning the light off, I meander to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I stand at the patio door, looking up at the night sky. Despite wanting to look at the rest of the text messages on the TracFone, I convince myself that it’s too risky since it's upstairs in my bedroom closet. I decide to go to bed and wait until tomorrow instead.

• • • •

Waking up to the sound of the front door closing, I turn and look at the clock on my nightstand, it’s five o’clock. Interested to see where he could be headed off to on a Sunday morning this early, I get up and stumble downstairs. Looking out the window, I see his SUV in the driveway, which means that he went for a run.

I head back upstairs and snuggle back into the bed. I pull the covers up to my ear, close my eyes, but sleep doesn't come. My mind starts racing again. Turning over on my back, I think about grabbing the TracFone. His runs normally take atleast an hou
r—
a whole hour to figure things out.

I get out of bed and walk to the closet, reaching up on the shelf for the phone. Taking it in my hand, I decide to stand by the bedroom door to hear the front door open when he returns. I flip the phone open and the main screen shows. Glancing at the battery icon on the top right, I see it's showing one red bar―there's not much power left. After pressing a button, the contact list shows. Only one number is listed. I try to make a mental note of what it is.

I press another button and the text message list pops up again. Scanning the list, I reach the ones that I didn't read yesterday.

Outgoing Message (February 14, 2012 1:05pm):
I'll show you just how lucky you are tonight {{wink}}

Incoming Message (February 14, 2012 12:54pm):
How could I be so lucky to have you? xoxo

Outgoing Message (February 14, 2012 12:51pm):
I was able to get out of my meeting early, so I'm leaving Chicago now. I'll call you when we land. I made plans for dinner at 6 at our favorite restaurant.

Incoming Message (February 14, 2012 12:32pm):
Haven't heard from you. Please tell me you’re coming over tonight.

Outgoing Message (February 14, 2012 9:36am):
I'm trying

Incoming Message (February 14, 2012 9:04am):
Can we christen my new sofa tonight? I have a special Valentines outfit waiting for you.

Incoming Message (February 13, 2012 3:24am):
I can now go to sleep. Thank you for calling me so that I can hear the sound of your voice. That sexy voice!

Incoming Message (February 13, 2012 1:58am):
I'm awake. Can you call me?

Outgoing Message (February 13, 2012 1:56am):
Awake and thinking of you.

Outgoing Message (February 12, 2012 2:48pm):
Thank you for the incredible lunch date...and dessert.
☺

Feeling like I'm going to be sick, I run to the bathroom and hurl into the toilet. My pulse quickens and my face becomes hot. Anger rages and I throw the phone before I can even think. It goes flying out of the bathroom and across the bedroom. It smashes against the dresser and lands on the floor in pieces. As soon as I realize what I’ve done, I run to it, dropping to the floor. While I gather the pieces, I realize that I don't have the battery. While reaching under the dresser, I hear the front door open downstairs. "Shit." I push myself up and run to the closet. Reaching up, I put the pieces of the phone back under the stack of clothes on the shelf.

Rushing back to the bathroom, I shut the door behind me. While staring into the mirror, I try to decide what to do next. I'm not ready to confront him yet, and I need to talk to Tracy again. Taking in a deep breath, I open the door and go lie back in bed, pulling the covers over my head.

Minutes later, Rich walks upstairs and into the bedroom. I don't move. He puts his clothes into the hamper and walks to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He turns on the shower, and the sound of the water lulls me back to sleep.

I'm awakened by Rich hovering over me. "I have to go out for a few. Your mom texted that she won't be making it to church today."

Barely awake, I nod. He walks away and I glance at the clock, it’s seven-eleven. I need to get up and ready for nine o’clock church service. My mom and I have been meeting up for Sunday morning service every week since my dad passed.

I get out of bed and head downstairs to grab my phone to call her. Walking over to the table in the entryway, I notice my phone isn’t there. But I remember leaving it there last night. Once I make my way to the kitchen, I see it lying on the counter next to the coffee maker. While certain that I didn't leave it there, I try and shake it off. The phone reads that I have one unread text message.

My mom:
Good morning Ames. I won't be making it to mass this morning. I’m still not feeling well. Please don't worry, I just want to rest. Call me later today. Love you.

How did Rich know that she texted me? Was he looking through my phone? Did he read the text as it came through? Putting my phone down, I contemplate going to church alone, but decide to pass today. Today’s the day to gather myself and do a bit of confronting.

• • • •

While exiting the shower, I hear my phone ringing downstairs. After drying off and getting dressed, I head down to see who called. I have one new voicemail, it's from Tracy. She asks if I want to spend the day with her and a few friends, so I call her back.

"Amy."

"Hey, Tracy. I'm surprised you're awake so early on a Sunday morning," I quip.

"Hey now, go easy on me. Fine. Alison texted at eight o’clock to see if we could do something today. I wasn't exactly awake when she did. But I am now," she jokes in return. "So do you want to join us? We want to go to the beach. Alison is calling Laura to see if she wants to come too."

"Sure, I guess I'll go."

"Is everything all right? Did you find anything else out from yesterday?"

"I did look at his iPhone, but he has a lock on it."

"No fucking way, Amy. He's setting himself up for being guilty."

"I know. But, in his defense, he could have it locked because it’s also his work phone. He may have a lot of important contacts and information in it. You know, if he should happen to lose it, it would be awful."

"That excuse sounds good and all, but do you really want to believe that?"

"I don't know what to believe," I say, overwhelmed by the whole situation. "I read more of the text messages on the TracFone. It made me vomit, literally."

"That’s it. You need to get dressed because we’re going to the beach today. We’re going to figure out what you do from here. You have to fill me in on what the texts said. Actually, take the phone with you. We can snoop through it for you. It’ll save you the heartache of having to see anything more."

"I'm not sure the phone works anymore," I say, cringing. "I kind of smashed it up against the dresser."

She lets out a small giggle. "Oops. Well, then we'll have to come up with a Plan B."

"Yup."

Forty minutes later, Tracy is ringing the doorbell. I greet her at the door and she stands there looking at me without saying a word. "What's the matter?"

"What is that parked in your driveway?" she asks, pointing to my new car.

I smirk. "Rich bought it for my birthday."

"Well, I guess there has to be more to the text messages because there’s no way that a cheating boyfriend would buy his girlfriend a car that costs over $300,000." She gasps. "Holy shit, Amy."

"I know," I say, having thought the same thing.

"We’re taking your car today," she says, smiling wide. "Alison and Laura can take their own car."

When Laura and Alison arrive, I'm in the middle of showing Tracy the inside of the car. "Damn girl," Alison remarks, getting out of her Jeep.

"Hi," I say, feeling embarrassed. I've never been the flashy type, or to put myself on display for having money. And this car does the exact opposite of that.

"Is this your car?" Laura asks.

"Can you believe it? Rich got this for her birthday," Tracy says, in shock.

"Wow."

"So which beach are we headed to today?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Not sure, we haven't gotten that far in our planning yet," Tracy says.

"I know of a little beach about an hour from here. Do you want to do that?" They all nod in agreement, not taking their eyes off of the car.

An hour or so later, we’re parked down from the Love Shack and they’re remarking how nice this little town is. We take our beach towels, umbrellas, and bags, and head down to the beach. It's evident that it is going to be packed today. People are already laid out and in the water. We find a spot to spread out our towels and umbrellas a bit to the left of the Love Shack.

Laura has me tell the girls what I discovered yesterday. Alison convinces herself that he's guilty, and Tracy seems to be in agreement. But Laura remains quiet, looking disgusted, when I summarize what was read on the phone. Laura’s known me since we were kids. She's been through a lot with me, and she's helped me get through a lot. I think she doesn’t want this to happen to me, especially at this point in my life.

My phone chimes, so I search for it in my bag. It’s Rich:
Stuck at work, I will be home later than I anticipated. I'll call you on my way home.

I read the text out loud and Alison shoots me a muddled look.

I text back:
Okay. I'm at the beach with the girls. Won't be home until late.

After turning my phone off, I shove it down to the bottom of my bag. "I'm done talking about it. I want a day to relax and take in the sun," I say to the girls, wanting nothing more than to push everything out of thought.

"Please promise us that you won't confront him until you do a bit more digging, all right?" Tracy asks, shooting me a knowing glance. I nod, but I’m not sure that I'll be able to do that.

We spend the rest of the morning taking in the sun and reading, while chatting about celebrities, fashion, and life.

"So, Laura, is everything okay with your sister?" I ask, remembering our Friday exchange.

She puts down her magazine and groans. "She’s pregnant," she announces, disappointed.

"Oh goodness."

Laura's twenty-seven year old sister, Sarah, hasn't necessarily had an easy and successful life. She's been through countless jobs since barely graduating from college. Laura even managed to convince Rich to hire her as a receptionist at his firm, but that lasted only six months. He had to let her go because she was calling out so much. She still lives with her parents and has been temping at various places since. She can't seem to get her life together.

"Yeah," Laura says, pressing her lips together and shaking her head. "She's in a bad situation." We all offer looks of concern.

In the near distance, music begins to play. A disc jockey is set up on the patio of the Love Shack. We look at each other, wide-eyed, in excitement. "This place rocks," Alison exclaims, bouncing to the beat of the music.

"I told you guys that I found a gem," I say, enthusiastic.

Needing to find a restroom, we decide to have lunch on the patio of the Love Shack. We’regreeted by Izz
y—
or maybe it's Ana, I don't recall who’s who. She recognizes me the moment she greets us. "Nice to see you, ma'am. We’re happy you decided to visit the Love Shack again," she says in her most annoyingly, high-pitched voice. The girls smile in response. I snarl at them. Izzy―or Ana―doesn't even pick up on it. She escorts us to our table, letting us know that Marcus will be over to take our order.

"Did she call you ma'am?" Tracy asks, laughing, when Izzy―or Ana―walks away.