Taste of Reality (24 page)

“That’s fine. I probably won’t get to it today, but I’ll do it first thing on Monday.”

“Then I guess the other thing we need to do is decide how we’re going to split up the bank accounts and the furniture,” he said.

I’d already thought about the money, but I figured I’d wait to see what he had to say about it.

“How are you wanting to handle it?” I asked.

“Well, I think it’s only fair that we split up our savings accounts based on how much we’ve deposited into them.”

“Which means?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t saying what I thought he was.

“Meaning that whatever I’ve put in over the last few years, that’s what I expect to get back out, plus interest.”

“You do realize that by law, whatever we’ve accumulated together belongs to both of us.”

“No, I don’t realize anything. I earn five times what you do, and it’s only right that I get every bit of what I’ve worked so hard to save.”

“Well, I’m not going for that. We’re splitting any money that we have fifty-fifty, and I’m not budging.”

“Anise, do you think I’m going to let you take fifty percent of everything, when you’ve probably only contributed a small percentage of the total balance?”

“No, I don’t expect you to
let
me do anything, but I’m sure the judge will see things a lot differently when he finds out you deserted me for another woman.”

“This is bullshit. And I guess you want fifty percent of my 401(k) as well, too?”

“No, actually I don’t. Because I don’t agree that any working person should collect fifty percent of an ex-spouse’s retirement plan. Maybe if I didn’t work and had children to take care of, it would be different. But I work every single day, and I save money toward my own retirement. So all I’m talking about are the checking, savings, and CD accounts we have.”

“We’re still talking about at least a hundred thousand dollars, and a lot of that came from my yearly bonuses.”

“Regardless. We’re splitting that money fifty-fifty, David, and if you try to take any more than that, then I’ll change my mind about not wanting part of your 401(k).”

“Why are you doing this?”

He sounded like a child throwing a temper tantrum, and what he didn’t know was that I wasn’t doing it because I wanted a ton of money. I was doing it because of how he’d betrayed me.

“You asked for all of this, not me,” I said. “We’re both at fault to a certain extent, but I know you don’t expect to walk away with everything and leave me nothing. Because it’s not going to happen.”

“What about the furniture, then?” he asked, raising his voice.

“We need to figure it out.”

“I’m taking everything that I brought when we first got married.”

“I expect you to.”

“And I’m also taking our master bedroom set and the furniture in the great room.”

“You know, David, I can see right now that we’re going to have to let our attorneys deal with this.”

“Why, Anise? Why can’t we work this out on our own instead of running up legal bills?”

“Because you don’t want to be fair, that’s why.”

“Like I said, this is bullshit.”

“No, it’s not. It’s what you asked for when you went out and screwed some bitch,” I said, and hated that he could still agitate me.

“I screwed someone else because I was tired of looking at you.”

“And if you keep talking, you’ll be lucky if you leave the courthouse with ten pennies.”

“You know, those petty threats really don’t become you.”

“Call them petty if you want, but I’m not playing with you. Because even though I’m more than willing to give you a divorce, I’m not about to be left high and dry financially.”

“You know what? This conversation is going nowhere, so I’m out of here,” he said, and clicked the phone in my ear.

Which was fine because I didn’t have anything else civil to say, anyway. I knew divorce was the right way to proceed, but I wasn’t going to walk away with nothing. I couldn’t believe he’d suggested that I should. But I knew that splitting the money equally wasn’t the problem, and that it had everything to do with my not begging him on hands and knees to come back to me. David thought quite highly of himself, and he was disappointed to hear that I, too, wanted to end this marriage. He didn’t want any part of me, but he couldn’t stand the idea of me successfully moving on without him. He couldn’t stand the fact that I didn’t need any man in my life or that I didn’t mind being alone.

For that reason, I was glad he didn’t know about Frank.

F
RANK’S SUBDIVISION
was more ritzy than I imagined. There were groups of evergreen trees at the entrance, and each house I passed must have averaged five to six thousand square feet. Some were brick, some were stucco, some had a mixture of both. Every lawn was beautifully landscaped with concrete or brick circle driveways. A few had exquisite-looking waterfalls or huge boulders in the middle.

I continued around the curve, searching for the address he’d given me right before leaving work. When I saw 12002 on one of the brick pillars, I drove into the driveway. His home was to die for. I lived in a forty-eight-hundred-square-foot house myself, but it seemed only a small guest house compared to his. The brick was light tan and the windows were bayed all the way across the front. It was every bit of five to six hundred thousand dollars, and I wondered how a director of training could afford all of this on his own.

I turned the ignition off and stepped out of my SUV. Then I walked up the sidewalk leading to Frank’s front door and pushed
the button on the intercom system. I waited to hear his voice, but he opened the door instead.

“So you made it?” he said.

“Yeah, I did.”

He wore jean shorts and a black pullover and looked even more attractive than he did at work. I walked in and he reached to hug me before closing the door, which left me wondering what his wealthy neighbors would think if they caught him doing it.

“Come in and make yourself comfortable,” he said, pointing to the sunken living room, which was decorated in light tans, blacks and blues. I slipped off my sandals, followed him, and took a seat on the sofa. Contemporary jazz played through the built-in sound system. He sat next to me, and for some reason I felt uncomfortable. Not because I didn’t want him sitting so close, but I think it was because this whole thing between us was still so new. Time was passing, and I knew I had feelings for him, but I still wasn’t used to the idea.

“About an hour ago, I started wondering if you were really going to come,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I guess because you seemed so hesitant when I first invited you this morning.”

“Well, I’m here now” was all I could say.

“That you are,” he said, and stared at me the way he always did.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you. Wanna see the rest of it?”

“I’d love to.”

We stood and moved toward the dining room.

“I’m not so sure I would have chosen this particular dining room set, but it was a gift from my mom, and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings,” he said, referring to the cherry wood buffet and matching table. “I think I would have gone oak in color and probably would have bought a lighted china cabinet instead, but I can live with it.”

“It’s nice,” I said, but I agreed with him about the china cabinet, because I loved those as well.

We strolled past the winding staircase, down a hall and into the kitchen. It was every woman’s dream. Major cabinet space occupied each wall and a unique island created an elegant focal point. The marble countertops accented the entire room, and the glass breakfast table did the same.

“This is where we’ll eat when the pizza gets here,” he said, pointing toward the family room.

“Sounds good to me.”

We walked up the second staircase and took a look inside two guest bedrooms and two full baths. Then we entered the master bedroom suite, which had a fireplace, sitting area, double walk-in closets and a bathroom large enough to do exercises in. There was even a custom vanity for the woman of the house.

Frank showed me his home office, which was also on the second floor, and then we went back down to the main level.

“Tell me something,” I said. “How do you keep all of this so clean?”

“I don’t. I pay someone else to.”

“I have a cleaning service that comes every two weeks, but I would think you’d need someone much more often.”

“I do. I have someone come in twice a week, but one of those days is for washing and ironing my clothes and to cook a meal that will last for two days.”

“Must be nice.”

“It is, but if I had a wife, maybe she’d be willing to cook for me herself every now and then.”

He looked at me, waiting for a reaction, but I didn’t offer one.

He led me toward the stairway leading to the lower level, which was another house in itself. There was another family room, an exercise room, a billiards room, an office, another bedroom, a kitchenette, and a sauna. I was in awe of how well the house had been
constructed and how tastefully decorated it was. It looked like a woman had done it for him.

“You really do have a gorgeous home, and I love the decorating.”

“Thank you. It’s a lot of house for just me, but I’m hoping to change that one day. This bachelor lifestyle is not as appealing as it once was.”

“I can understand that. Nobody wants to be alone for the rest of their lives.”

Upstairs, we went out on the deck, which wrapped halfway around the back of the house, and came back inside. As soon as we sat down in the family room, the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably the pizza,” he said.

I positioned myself on the red leather sofa and scanned the modern artwork on the walls. I admired the six-foot artificial plant and thought about how I would love to have one exactly like it in my great room. I had one, but it couldn’t compare to this.

“I’m going to set this on the table, and I’ll be right back with the plates,” he said, and walked into the kitchen.

It would have suited me just fine to eat at the breakfast table, because Frank’s family room was a lot nicer than most I’d seen. But this was his domain, and his call, so I didn’t suggest we do anything different.

“What do you want to drink?” he asked.

“Sprite, Sierra Mist. Something without caffeine, because I’ve had too much of it this week.”

“What about ginger ale?”

“That’ll work, too.”

He made two trips between the kitchen and where we were sitting, bringing plates, a knife, glasses of ice and cans of ginger ale.

“I always sit on the floor when I eat in here, but you don’t have to,” he said resting on the carpet.

“Sitting on the floor is more comfortable to me, anyway.”

I scooted down and sat adjacent to him.

“Is the music okay, or do you want to start one of the DVDs?”

“What do you have?
Jungle Fever
?”

“Funny,” he said, and we laughed.

“No, actually, I picked up
Armageddon
because, believe it or not, I never saw it, and I also picked up
Pretty Woman
and
The Original Kings of Comedy
.”

“You’re kidding?”

“About which one?”

“The Original Kings of Comedy.”

“Why? Have you seen it already?”

“Yeah, and I loved it, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

“I guess I’m just surprised that you would rent a DVD with all black comedians.”

“I’ve seen all four of them on TV shows or in movies, and all of them are funny as hell. So it doesn’t matter to me what color they are.”

“I’m glad, but I’m still surprised.”

“You’ll get used to the way I am, eventually,” he said, taking a bite of pizza.

“I guess so.”

I bit into my piece and then drank some ginger ale.

“I was thinking you’d ask me why I rented
Pretty Woman
with it being so old, and because most men would never rent it because it’s sometimes categorized as a chick flick,” he said.

“It’s one of my favorite movies, but why did you get it?” I asked.

“Because in the movie, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere come from very different walks of life, yet they are extremely attracted to each other, end up falling in love and live happily ever after.”

“Oh, so you’re wanting to make a point?”

“Exactly. You and I were born of different races, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t compatible in other ways.”

“I agree. I never would have before, but I do now.”

We finished our food, drank a little more.

“There’s a couple of things I need to tell you before we go any further.”

I knew it. I knew this was all too good to be true. Him
and
this mansion. His family was either dealing mega drugs, was very well connected with the mob, or Frank really didn’t own this house. Because the more I thought about it, the more I realized I hadn’t seen one photo of him, a family member or friend.

“Will I want to leave right after you do?” I asked.

“I don’t think so, but I know what most people think when they come here and see how well I’m living on a seventy-thousand-dollar job.”

“So how do you?”

There was no sense pretending I wasn’t as curious as everyone else.

“My grandparents were very wealthy. My father inherited everything except a separate trust fund they willed to me, but I couldn’t touch it until I graduated from college and grad school. The other stipulation was that I had to be married before the funds could be released.”

His money was the least of my worries, so I asked, “What happened to your ex-wife?”

“She was black, I was white, and twelve years ago interracial marriages weren’t so acceptable in Mitchell. And when she realized her family was never going to accept us as man and wife, she left. Didn’t tell me she was gone, didn’t want any money. Just up and left with the clothes on her back and a few things from her closet.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Frank. I had no idea.”

“No, it’s fine, but I have to admit I loved her more than life itself, and my heart was broken for years because of it.”