Every Woman Needs a Wife (19 page)

Avie grinned. “Then we had to wait, because I didn’t do the store thing on Saturdays or Sundays. Sneaking in between while I was outside playing wouldn’t work because John’s father was home. So we didn’t resume operation ‘lose my virginity’ until the following Monday.”

“Girl, you’re so crazy.” Brandi stretched out on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

“This time John’s penis made it all the way in and he pulled out and gave me a couple of thrusts and then—it was—”

“Damn, time to go,” Brandi said. “You’re making me frustrated!”

“The next time—it was all out-screwing and that was the only time it felt all right. But then suddenly three of his boys appeared out of nowhere, dicks in hand, demanding a little piece of the action. No one was running a train on my ass, so I grabbed two of John’s baseball trophies and swung out. I hit him first, then Jeffrey who was standing at the edge of the bed took one upside the head. Two of the boys backed away, but one said, ‘She’s only a girl.’ Well this
girl
lifted the trophy to hit him as he came toward me, then surprised him by kicking him dead in the nuts. He hit the ground. I looked at the other two and said, ‘You sure you want some of this?’ Both shook their heads and took off.”

“Girl, remind me not to piss you off.” Then she leaned rolled onto her side. “So what happened on the next trip to the doctor?”

“I was looking forward to my mother finding out that I no longer was a virgin. Unfortunately, the patient-doctor privilege kept the doctor from telling about my escapades with John. He told me that he could never tell her, but at seventy-five dollars per visit, he was always glad to see us stop by.”

Brandi let out a hearty laugh.

“He told me about different types of birth control and introduced me to condoms. Anything other than condoms would have required a consultation with my mother. So condoms became the weapon of choice.”

Brandi laughed so hard she almost peed.

“Now see, that’s a first-time story.”

“Not every first time is like that,” Brandi said, thinking back to her thirteenth birthday. “What happened to me was no laughing matter. I’ll tell you about it, but just not right now, okay?”

“A
re you sure about this?” Avie asked Brandi, peering at her over their to-do list.

“Yes, very sure.”

“Do you want the truth or the version that will let us remain friends?” Brandi laughed heartily. “You know we’ll always be friends,” she said, grinning, “especially since you saved my tail that day in eighth grade.”

“Yeah, Big D was about to spank that ass.”

“Was she ever! All she had to do was sit on my skinny behind and it would’ve been all over.” Brandi chuckled as Avie slapped the desk, shaking with mirth. “I think that chick was borderline butch even back then. But Big A had her covered.”

“You bet your ass. Had to teach that zombie a thing or two. All right,” Avie said, rubbing her hands together. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let me hear what you’ve done so far.”

“Actually, I did what you instructed me to, and maybe a little more.”

Two months earlier, Avie’s lips had set into a grim line as she said, “I’m advising you as a friend, not as a lawyer. You feel me?”

Brandi had nodded, leaning in close.

“Here’s what you do first…”

Brandi left Avie’s office and went straight to a bank on LaSalle Street. Minutes later, she sat demurely in front of the private banker she hadn’t used in decades and said, “I’d like to open a savings account, please.”

The woman politely smiled, “Okay, Mrs. Spencer, we’re going to—”

“No, I’m going to use my maiden name.”

That was the first step. She sold some jewelry and cut corners on household expenses. Then Brandi slowly squirreled away what money she could without Vernon’s knowledge. Some of the money went into her new account, but most of it went into a safe-deposit box in the bank’s vaults. Those funds definitely wouldn’t show up as part of the marital assets in a divorce proceeding, no more than the house Vernon had bought for Tanya Kaufman.

Four weeks later Brandi met Avie halfway between their offices for lunch at Café 200. They chose selections from The Carvery and took a seat in a booth in the far left corner of the diner.

“Girl, I did exactly as you said and then some. I had Vernon spring for two new charge accounts and replaced our furniture with less expensive pieces.”

“So what happened to the other stuff?”

“I moved it into storage. I’m keeping those. I also added a few other pieces to take with me as—” she cleared her throat, “—the
consolation
prizes.”

“Oh, come on,” Avie said, between bites, “Vernon’s not
that
dense. He has to notice something.”

“All he ever did anyway was come in, eat, hit the library, the bathroom a couple of times, shower, then roll into the sack and possibly get some nookie. Now he’s gone so much that when he does come home, he says something like, ‘Oh, you’re changing the furniture around—looks nice.’” Brandi laughed. “Yeah, all right. Changing the furniture? Suuuuure!”

“Okay, have the house appraised, then quitclaim—sign over—your interest in the house to Vernon and remove your name from the mortgage. Then start banking your portion of the mortgage payment, but leave Vernon’s money in your joint banking account to handle the house and maintenance bills. Never take more than you’ll actually need.”

“At the rate things are going,” Brandi said, lifting her glass in salute, “he’ll need it more than I will.”

Avie leveled hazel eyes on Brandi. “It’s better than the other way around.”

“While searching for a new place, I also checked out schools in the area for the girls. Next week, I’ll put earnest money down on a sweet little piece of property in the Hyde Park area.”

“You can’t do that! That will have to come out in the divorce. You’re killing me here.”

“No, the paperwork says ‘renting,’ but the day after the divorce is final, the money I put in will be converted to an actual down payment.”

Avie took a sip of Dr Pepper. “Why go through all that? Why not just wait?”

“’Cause the house might be sold by the time all this is done.” Brandi gazed out at the heavy lunchtime crowd streaming in from the AON Center, where Avie had her office. “So the paperwork and earnest money means the house will stay off the market and I can move right in whenever I want.”

“I can’t believe you did all that in less than four weeks,” Avie said, checking off a few things on her notepad. “It normally takes people six months to pull that off.”

“Well, that’s just your part of the plan. I might need your help on something else I need to do.”

Avie tensed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Uh-oh. Sounds like you’re about to get me into some bull.”

“No, actually, it’s time to tie up the loose ends. Everything’s set, except for one last piece of business.” Brandi pushed away her half-eaten plate.
“Piece
being the operative word.”

“I get it—the mistress.”

“Riiiiiight,” she said, eyeing the approaching figure of a gorgeous man whose dark brown skin, intense eyes, and muscular body reminded her of her husband.

“Vernon took the down payment for Tanya’s house out of our business account, thinking our accountant, being a man, wouldn’t drop the information to me. Fortunately, Michael values our business and pulled my coattail with not-so-subtle hints.”

Avie grinned, scooping up a little mashed potato. “Doesn’t hurt that he still has a thing for you.”

“Old love dies hard.” Brandi’s fingertips glided over the coolness of the glass. “And I think I missed out by not being with him.”

After Michael clued her in, time and research revealed everything she needed to know about the other woman. With all that Brandi had done to secure her finances and plan for a move to a new house in the heart of the city, she wasn’t as angry anymore. Instead, she felt in control and ready for her new life. To hell with Vernon!

Then she had showed up at Tanya’s house, handling both of them like a pro. Now one of her “problems” was God knows where, sulking like
he
was the victim. The other one had landed on her doorstep, with Vernon’s wallet in hand and every bit of cash still intact, and was now pulling her house together. How cool was that?

Three hours later, she was still hanging around Avie’s office, hesitant about putting her signature on their petition for legal separation. Instead, she grabbed a white notepad and began making notes for a new business plan. She knew she couldn’t show up at The Perfect Fit because Vernon would create a scene if it would serve his purpose. As she had every half hour for the past three hours, she placed another call to her assistant. “Renee, is he still in?”

“I just checked with Jackie,” her rushed voice came through the line. “He tore out of here driving a U-Haul about thirty minutes ago.”

“A U-Haul? He’s still in that thing?” Brandi held back a chuckle. Lissette had called to give her a heads-up. Then she and Jeremy’s wife had put their heads together: Lissette called the towing company, but Brandi supplied directions to its final destination. Vernon hadn’t guessed that the car was actually holding ground in their garage. But if he was home where he was supposed to be…

Brandi began packing her things. “So he’s gone for the day?

“Looks that way.”

“Great,
now
I’m on my way in.”

Renee took a long, slow breath. “Are you sure? It’s about two-thirty, the day’s almost over.”

“I might need you to work late so we can get some things in order.”

“Uhhhh, I need to warn you that um…well, um…people are acting a little strange.”

Brandi stuffed the last of Avie’s documents in her briefcase, making a mental note to work up the energy to sign the damn things. “About what?”

“Uhhhhh…”

“Come on, woman, my temperature’s set to ‘wracked nerves’ today. Spill it!” Renee lowered her voice to a whisper. “Someone’s standing in front of me. We’ll talk when you get here.” She hung up.

♥♥♥

Brandi pulled “her” new Lexus out onto I-94. Switching on the radio, B.B. King’s “The Thrill is Gone” bellowed through the airwaves in his soul-filled voice.

Brandi let out a small bitter laugh. “Well, I knew that from the second verse and the chorus, romance was the first to pack its bags.”

As the Lexus moved with traffic, she remembered how she thought that she could solve it with just one clever move. After the first month of several visits with her under-the-bed backup, her husband’s trifling behind had yet to tickle her with what he called a little “below-the-waistline sunshine.” Unfortunately, mentioning her frustrations had only made things worse. His attempts to close the gaps with phone sex only grazed the surface. Personally, she wished that grazing would take place in an area only God, her mother, and Vernon had seen more than once.

Vernon had promised to be more attentive. He’d promised to make their marriage the central part of his life—and with each failed promise, they settled more comfortably into a coexistence that was closer to friends than husband and wife.

Given the opportunity, she’d retire her Doc Johnson products just to have that delta between her thighs humming a precision tune all on its own. So she had hatched a plan. If he wouldn’t give it up willingly, she’d have to smack him across the forehead and take it. A wife could do that, right?

With the children safely tucked away at Avie’s, Brandi put her plan in motion. Wearing a sheer purple gown with lilac trim, dinner waiting lovingly on the table, she had greeted him one evening at the door and dropped to her knees. Soon screams and moans mingled with the liquid sound of heated activity as she worked him over with the technique of a professional.

That night she had sat in the emergency room trying to explain to the doctor why her husband lay on an examination table with an erection that wouldn’t go down without a muscle relaxant and a day’s rest, vowing that maybe next time she’d be a little gentler.
And then again
, she thought,
maybe not
. Problem solved.

Then the next day, Michael had called her into his office and filled her in on a few things. New problem. And a completely new set of challenges that had nothing to do with bedroom aerobics and everything to do with bringing back her insecurities full force. Was she too fat? Was she inadequate in the bedroom? Was she lacking in the mothering department?

♥♥♥

Brandi strolled into the office thirty minutes later amid the curious stares of her employees. Renee, wearing a smart black suit and silver blouse, hair in a curly shag, swiveled in the desk chair, simply holding out the little pink messages without saying a word.

Brandi stared at the fleshy redhead for a moment. “And good afternoon to you, too.”

Renee dipped her head, giving her a sheepish smile. Uncharacteristic for a secretary who was known for being a straight shooter. “Vernon was in rare form. Didn’t know if you were going to tear off a few heads or not.”

“And why would I do that?” Brandi asked, suddenly a bit nervous about all this secretiveness. “None of you have done anything to me.” Turning slowly, she peered out at the other inquisitive employees staring right back at her.

“Well…you know how some women get when they’re on the verge of… divorce,” Renee said.

Brandi lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. “And just how did you know that?”

Renee swallowed hard, eyes darting around the room. “Uh…uh…Fabian told us.”

“And how did
she
find out?”

Renee grimaced and hesitated.

“Renee…”

“Thomas told her,” she mumbled.

“Thomas?”

“Your
cousin
Thomas. He was at your house last Friday and told Fabian
that you invited your husband’s mistress to live with you.” Renee placed a single hand over her chest. “I told them it was bull. No wife in her right mind would bring a woman her husband was sleeping with into her home. No way!”

Murmurs swirled around them, blending with the smooth jazz playing overhead. Brandi pulled off her black blazer and loosened the tie at the neck of her floral blouse. She stared openly at Renee, weighing how much to tell her. She decided on a simple, “You’re wrong.” She cast a wary gaze over her shoulder, before facing her secretary again. “But everyone thinks I’m about to go off on them because of that?”