Every Woman Needs a Wife (2 page)

“Since I’m paying for half of this affair, what’s in it for me?”

That
might work!

Fingers of doubt sent a chill through her; she knew Vernon would have every excuse in the book.

The fading sunlight cast a subdued glow into the car. Leaning back in the cool seat, she realized that asking for a divorce while the woman he’d been sneaking around with for the past six months was looking on wouldn’t leave him any breathing room. And she didn’t mind one bit if he choked on what she was about to serve up.
If
she could find the courage. She reached into her purse, grabbed her equipment, and placed it in her bra, tucking it out of sight.

Brown and yellow leaves danced in the chilly October wind as Brandi left the security of her car and inched her way toward what could be a total liberation or her worst nightmare. Doing the unthinkable tugged at her mind, but common sense kicked in. How long would the pleasure from killing them last? She had to find a better way.

Walking up the cobblestone path, she gazed at the house her accountant said Vernon had paid for out of their business account. Taking a long, slow breath, she knocked on the wooden door.

Moments later, a tall, blonde with deep-set blue eyes and a curvaceous figure some women would give an ovary to have, appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a sheer red robe and not much else.

Gathering her strength, Brandi abandoned her rehearsed lines. “Good evening, Tanya. I’d like to speak with you and my husband,” she said, breezing past the mistress into a spacious, tastefully furnished living room.

“Husband? Wait a minute,” the woman shrieked, grabbing for Brandi, who shimmied just out of reach. “You must have the wrong house. Your husband’s not here.”

“Oh, yes he is,” Brandi shot back, outrage fast replacing fear as she stood facing Vernon—a man whose charisma, handsome face, and tall, muscular build had put moisture in the driest panties. “That man right there on your sofa is actually married…to me.” Brandi flashed her wedding ring in the woman’s face before venturing further into the room. The table had been set with a candlelight dinner for two. The scent of grilled steak, mashed potatoes, and apple cobbler mingled with the fresh citrus smell of the house. Somehow, Brandi didn’t think that the cozy little dinner would grace Tanya’s lips—or Vernon’s.

A quick glance at the mistress showed a flash of pink coloring the woman’s high cheekbones before her sensuous red lips tightened into a hard line. She was strikingly pretty, with a heart-shaped face and classically pert nose. She looked as though she belonged on the pages of
Cosmo
or
Vogue
rather than hidden away in a bungalow on the south side of Chicago.

Vernon, dressed in a casual suit that complemented his warm brown skin, short-cropped hair, and piercing dark brown eyes, had been lounging
comfortably on a plush maroon sofa in the living room when Brandi stormed in. He had one leg thrown over the arm, a glass of cognac in one hand and a remote control in the other. He quickly switched off the television, leaving only the faint sound of music drifting in from the dining room. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and his thin mustache twitched just before his jaw dropped. He jumped up, spilling the warm amber liquid onto the cream carpet. His mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, looking like a fish waiting for the first available hook. The action seemed to swallow every other sound in the room.

Unable to conceal a satisfied smile, Brandi used the calmest voice she could manage. “I want her to come live with us.”

This time, Tanya’s jaw dropped. Her face went from slightly tan to white as chalk in mere seconds. But the mistress recovered a lot faster than Vernon, whose mouth still hadn’t closed. Brandi’s lips lengthened into something between a sneer and a smirk.

“We’re going to end the deception you’ve got going and save some money, too. As your wife, and the person who’s footing the bill for this affair, I don’t think this is an unreasonable request.” Brandi leaned in close enough to catch a whiff of his earthy cologne. “The nerve of you to charge her upkeep to the business. You
wanted
to get caught.”

“Baby, I’m just waiting on Jeremy and Craig, I—”

Brandi put up a single hand before whirling to face the woman who had entered her marriage like a bad odor on a windy day. Tanya stared back at her as though she had lost her mind. Brandi was beginning to question her own sanity, but watching her oh-so-handsome husband lose his cool had its own rewards.

Finally, Vernon backed slowly away, almost stumbling over the glass end table, putting some distance between him and his pissed-off wife. “You’ve got a lot of balls showing up here.”

“That’s right,” Brandi shot back keeping in step with him. “I have my own pair, and right now I’m holding yours, too, my brother.”

“Where are the girls?” he demanded, finally getting his bearings.

Tanya’s shock finally gave way to anger as she folded her slender arms
across her full breasts, glaring at Vernon. “Wife? You, you didn’t say anything about a
living
wife! You said she died in childbirth and—”

The rush of words came to an abrupt halt as Brandi interrupted, with a bitter chuckle, “Yeah, right about now I think he wishes that was true.”

The temperature in the room rose ten degrees. Brandi smiled sweetly, watching Vernon creep away and slump back onto the sofa. His eyes darted around the room as he grimaced, mumbling something she couldn’t quite catch.

“Mr. Smooth himself, speechless? Definitely a first,” Brandi taunted, following him, then leaning in, lowering her voice to a breathy whisper. “But what can you say,
Mr
. Spencer? The marriage license is burning a hole in my purse as we speak.” She grinned. “I’d like to see you work a lie around this one.” And the man could tell them, too. He could lie well enough to make a hooker pay premium price for what she got free every day. Brandi had fallen for a few lines in her lifetime, sweeping the smallest ones to the side to keep peace in her home. Those days were over.

Vernon slowly stood to his full height of six foot two and glared down at his wife. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Check the record, Brandi. She’s a client.”

“Bullshit!” she snapped, head whipping around to the mistress. “A client? A
white
one at that?” Brandi lowered her gaze to the woman’s groin. “Wearing a robe so sheer I can see blonde hairs covering the gateway to heaven. Or should I say the gateway to hell, if she doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Tanya wrapped the robe closer, averting her eyes.

“And since I’ve had to be awful friendly with Mr. Dildo these past six months, she apparently knows how to get you over here.” Calm was returning slowly to Brandi. “If I have to use equipment to fulfill my basic needs, and I’m helping to run the business, taking care of the house, bringing home the bacon, frying it, and cleaning up right after, what the hell do I need you for?”

Vernon’s gaze flicked between the two women before settling on Brandi. “She’s
only
a client, Brandi,” he said, trying to use a convincing tone—a
tone that worked with their customers, but not with Brandi. Not anymore.

“You called me a client?” Tanya’s words, almost a resigned whisper, had savage simplicity. “A client? You asshole!” She pushed him back onto the sofa with a single hand, strolled to the bar, and poured herself a drink. Brandi almost joined her; she needed a damn stiff drink herself.

All three silently held their ground, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

Tanya’s statements only proved what Brandi thought—he’d spent so much time with the woman that she hadn’t suspected a thing. Brandi decided she’d delivered her opening lines just right. Now all she had to do was wait for Vernon to tighten the noose around his own neck. Arrogance could always do that to a man, and Vernon had arrogance by the bucketful.

Faint light crept through the vertical blinds and splayed onto the carpet as the icy silence created a sliver of uneasiness that only heightened the tension.

Vernon stood, rubbing his temples. “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

“No, we’ll talk about this right now,” Brandi shot back.

“Vernon,” Tanya began, “I think she’s right—”

“Shut up,” he growled, casting an angry glance at Tanya, whose alabaster skin blushed once again as he snapped, “You stay out of this!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” she replied evenly, soft curls billowing out around her shoulders. “You brought this into my living room and you’ve lied to me. I have every right to speak my mind.” The woman squared her shoulders, somehow growing her own pair of balls. The change was so subtle, it was neither movement nor sound.

The mistress was a startling contrast to Brandi’s honey brown skin, light brown eyes, wide, fleshy hips, and full breasts that always used to make Vernon’s mouth water every time he looked at them. Suddenly, Brandi felt a bit self-conscious about those extra fifty pounds. But then, her full-figured frame had never mattered to him—only her leading role in the business they started ten years ago had bothered him, causing more fights than she cared to count.

“Enough of this. This is not going to happen right now,” Vernon said, with a swipe of his hand. “Brandi, go home!”

“Technically, I
am
home.” Brandi dropped down on the sofa next to her husband, casually crossing one leg over the other. “Thanks to your stupidity, I own part of this one, too.” Then a sudden thought came to her. “Hey! You want me and the girls to pack our stuff and move in?” she asked, lifting a single eyebrow as though warming up to the idea. “It’ll be a little tight, but then again you’re used to tight places.” She glanced slyly at Tanya. “But then again, maybe not…”

Anger flashed in the woman’s eyes as she cast a narrowed gaze at Brandi, but when she spoke, it was to Vernon. “Deal with this! I can’t believe you pulled this crap on me!”

Glancing down, Brandi’s anger came back faster than she could rein it in. Tanya had a block of ice on her left hand large enough for a whole village to skate on—with or without lessons.

Tanya edged away from the not-so-happy couple. “You could’ve gotten me killed. Suppose she came here with a gun?”

“Actually, I don’t use those,” Brandi said, plucking an imaginary piece of lint from her navy pants. “But I
did
bring a knife. I got it from my friendly neighborhood hoodlums. They say it works a hell of a lot better than a gun. Less chance of discovery. Notice, I haven’t touched anything since I’ve been here.”

Tanya’s eyes widened as she swallowed hard. “Are you serious?”

Brandi shrugged. “The way I figure it, Biblically I have the right to kill both of you. You know, the adultery and casting the first stone thing and all.” She sighed wearily, placing a single hand on her chest. “But stones can be a little messy…”

Tanya glared at her, countering with, “But there is that
do not kill
line in there, too. You do
know
the Ten Commandments, don’t you?”

No this heifer didn’t come back with that!
Brandi leveled a stony gaze at Tanya, pissed that she had said anything at all, but then grinned anyway and answered, “Yes, Tanya, they’re in Exodus. But two books later in Deuteronomy it says that stoning the adulterers is A-okay.” She winked. “Now I’m down with that program. You first, babe.”

Vernon’s look was fierce, almost malicious. “You’re out of your mind!”

“No, stud, you’re out of yours,” Brandi shot back. “How the hell did you think you were gonna keep giving me the short end of the stick?” She lowered her gaze to his waist. “Literally—and think I wouldn’t figure it out?” She laughed. The outburst seemed to startle them both. “Normally, I can’t get my panties off quick enough. Now I can’t get a drive-by sniffing of dick. It doesn’t take a master’s to realize someone else is getting it, ’cause it certainly isn’t me.”

Vernon winced, glancing over his shoulder at the now-cold dinner, then into the corner, then slowly back at Brandi. Her gaze followed his, landing on the black briefcase she had given him for their last anniversary. He squinted, speaking through clenched teeth. “You’ve got things all wrong.”

Brandi folded her arms across her breasts. “Oh, really? There’s no problem here. I figure if you’re gonna sleep with the woman, don’t sneak around; just let me in on it.” She grinned, hiding the pain that shot through her heart. “I should at least get something out of it. If she’s reaping the fruits of my labor, she can come on home with me, help clean the house, wash your dirty drawers, and keep the kids.”

Brandi glanced at Tanya, who stared ahead blankly, her bottom lip held prisoner by perfect white teeth. “She can even put some money on the bills, too. I don’t have a problem with that. I’m all for
us
having a mistress as long as she does her share of the work. There has to be more to it than her just lying on her back to keep you happy. Hell, I wanna be happy, too. Clean my damn house, help a sister out—take some of the pressure off me.”

Tanya flinched as Brandi’s words chipped away at her dignity. She resembled a mannequin, staring at Vernon.

Brandi turned to gaze solidly into his face. Her fingertips smoothed over the soft material covering his muscular chest. She straightened the tie loosely draped around his neck. “If you’re going to have a mistress—and this marriage is all about sharing, honey—then I should have a mistress, too. Every woman needs a wife.”

Turning slowly to face a now-trembling mistress, whose eyes flashed with a glimmer of something that might have been pain, Brandi said, “Tanya, if you’re going to sleep with him, you need to earn it just like I
do.” Then she rose, covering the distance between Tanya and her. A new, shocking idea forming with each step. “And you know what? Since I pay most of the bills, and I’m part of the reason he looks good enough to make you want to spread your legs,” she said, swallowing her revulsion as she reached out to cup Tanya’s buttocks strictly for effect, “then I’d like some ass, too.”