Derailed (9 page)

“Talk to me, Ritchie.”

“I’m not happy about this, Rival,” I say as I slip on my sports wrist watch.

“This…as in?”

I turn to look at her. “I’m not happy that you are trying to seduce Bradley, okay?”

“But…but…Ritchie, you know what my plans are, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but Rival, you’re with me now – things have to change, Rival. You have to change the course of your plans.”

“But I want to get back at Scarlett, Ritchie. I need to. How do I do that if –”

“Rival, you have won.”

“No, I haven’t, Ritchie. He’s still with her.”

I shake my head.

“She wagered with me, Ritchie. A dollar. I have to win. I have –”

“You
have
won. They’re not happy.”

“– to wipe the smirk off her face. He’s still with her. That means I have not won, Ritchie, and if you’re expecting me to abort my plans, then –”

Clearly, she hasn’t heard a word I’ve said. “You’ve become Scarlett,” I finally say.

She jerks back. “What?”

I point to her clothes. “Look at you. All glamorous at ten in the morning, looking like Scarlett with your…your
Columbian
jeans, and your black ink around your eyes and fancy hairspray and…and
two
lipsticks? You’ve become the very woman you despise.”

“Don’t say that.”

I nod. “You’ve morphed into your nemesis, Rival, and –”

“Stop saying that!”

“– you’re hell bent on winning…what? Bradley? Then what?”

“I…I…” Her eyes scud.

“What happens to us after that?”

She doesn’t answer.

“It’s time to stop.”

She shakes her head.

“Rival, if you want to be with me, if you want us to work, you have to re-think your plans, or else –”

“Or else? You’re giving me an ultimatum now?”

I take my time before I answer. “I love you, Rival. I wanna marry you and start a life with you. I wanna protect you from the storms of the world, keep you safe. I need you. You’ve agreed to move in with me, agreed to marry me, yet you still keep your room at Bun’s?”

“But Ritchie, it’s only until we tell Brad –”

“One hundred percent of you – that’s what I need. One hundred percent. Nothing less. Because…that’s what I’m giving you in return.
All
of me. I’m an all or nothing guy. It may be a flaw of mine, yeah, but I’m wired that way. All or nothing. That’s me. So, yeah, you
could
call it an ultimatum.”

She shoves all her fingers into her hair, a confused look on her face.

“Think about it. Take your time. I’ll give you...three days.”

“You’re kidding me! You’re actually giving me an ulti –”

“If, after that, you choose not to refocus, I’ll understand.”

“Ritchie!”

“I’ll really miss you, but I
will
understand.” I walk out of my bedroom.

She follows and watches me from the landing as I run downstairs and toward the front door. 

“Ritchie!”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob and turn to look at her. She looks beautiful in her Columbian jeans and top that shows off her figure we’ve both worked hard on. For Bradley. She does not look like Scarlett. Even with two lipsticks at the
same
time, she looks fresh and lovely, and just looking at her makes my heart leap around my chest.

Knowing Rival and her stubbornness, knowing that she still has her room at Bun’s, that means that this could very well be the last time I see her. The thought of that leaves me drained, and I immediately regret issuing her an ultimatum. But I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do. So I run back up the stairs, take her in my arms and hug her.

“Ritchie, you are being very –”

I cut her off with a kiss, which she doesn’t return. “I love you, Rival.” I place my hand over her heart. “But, I need you to search this. It is time.” Before she can respond, I turn and run down the stairs and out of the house.  

RIVAL

As I watch Ritchie run off, confusion reigns over me. An ultimatum? Where’s all this coming from? What changed so that he could flip like that?

As the moments pass, my confusion morphs into anger. How dare Ritchie tell me what to do? Just because I love him and he loves me doesn’t mean that he can issue me with ultimatums. Who does he think he is? And three days? He expects me to call him in
three
days? Doesn’t he realize what Scarlett has done to me? How she’s wounded me? Does he expect me to just turn the other cheek? No friggin’ way am I going to do that. He can go jump for all I care. Seriously. I don’t have to listen to him. He can go to hell. I leap to my feet and go on to finish dressing. An ultimatum. Pfft!

When he calls me, I will tell him to shove off. He
will
call me. He can’t live without me. The last time I stayed away, he was lost and made me promise never to stay away. He will
not
be able to live without me. I know that.

For the rest of my day, even though I’m somewhat distracted by Ritchie’s comments, I don’t worry too much. Ritchie will call.

Around lunch time, I look at my phone. No missed call from Ritchie, no texts. Mm. Well, the day’s not over yet.

5 p.m. No call from Ritchie.

I drop off my kids at Bradley’s, but instead of going to Ritchie’s house, I head back to my room at Bun’s where I still have my clothes and other stuff. Luckily, neither Bun nor Raya ask questions. 

Yes, I keep the room, because I’m too scared to give it up. It’s my security blanket, and I feel better having it. Also, I figured once my kids know about Ritchie and me, and once Bradley knows about my plans to share my life with Ritchie, then only will I give up the room. I didn’t realize Ritchie had a problem with it.

The room is cold, stuffy, and unwelcoming. A far cry from the warmth of Ritchie’s house that has become my home for the last couple of months. I draw back the drapes, throw open the windows, and light some candles to change the ambience. It doesn’t do much to lift my mood or shift the gloom. 

Having nothing to do, I crawl into bed and attempt to read. Now I can catch up on my reading with no interruptions. Perfect. But I have trouble focusing. My mind keeps drifting to Ritchie. What is he doing right now?

Every time my phone goes off, I scramble for it, thinking it may be Ritchie.
Hoping
it is Ritchie. It isn’t. It’s just annoying reminders on my calendar.

9 p.m. Ritchie hasn’t called or texted me the entire day. I peep into his back patio. He’s not there waiting for me. Teaching me a lesson, is he? Well, I will not cave and call him. He is not that handsome, he is not that good a boyfriend, his hugs aren’t so good that I should abort my plans, my ongoing vendetta against Scarlett. I want to win our game. I want to win the bet. I want to win. I
need
to win. I fall asleep around 2 a.m.

Chapter Seven

RIVAL

At 7 a.m. I awake and immediately reach for my phone. No messages from Ritchie. I can’t believe it. He’s just stayed away from me. Well, let’s give him more time. I’m sure he will eventually call. Or appear on my balcony with flowers.

At 6 p.m. that evening, Ritchie has not made contact with me. I’m surprised at his determination. It seems like Ritchie means business. Well, I’m not going to sit around and wait – I call Bradley.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says.

There, see?
Sweetheart
. I have ever-ready Bradley on speed dial. I don’t need Ritchie and his ultimatums.

“You guys wanna go to dinner?” I ask in a somewhat breathy voice.

“Sure.”

“Sweet,” I say, my voice still flirty.

“No,
you’re
sweet,” he says.

With a pleased smile I hang up. Ritchie better watch out or he could be history in no time. 

When I arrive at his place, Bradley is out on the patio waiting for me. Alone. Before I can stop my car, he rushes over, opens the passenger door, and gets in.

“Drive!” he says as he buckles up. 

“Where are the kids?”

“Being put to bed. Drive, drive!”

“Oh.” I’m taken aback. I didn’t mean for us to go on a date.

“Drive, drive!” he repeats in an urgent voice.

I slip the car into reverse and ease out of the driveway. Just as I do, the front door of the house flings open and Scarlett steps out.

“Go! Go! Go!” Bradley says.

I step on the gas. “Am I the get-away car?” I ask with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says in a conspiratorial voice.

I laugh and brake at the next set of traffic lights. I recall the time when he and Scarlett disappeared for the weekend of his birthday. I was so confused as to why he wouldn’t return my calls, or why he didn’t seem to want to spend the day with us. How the tables have turned.

He smiles at me. “You have such a great laugh. I’ve forgotten how enchanting it is.”

I reward his compliment with a smile.

His eyes glaze. “You’re so beautiful.”

Please don’t.

He reaches over and touches my cheek.

Please don’t.

If I expected Bradley to make the evening pleasant or to lift my mood, I was wrong. The evening is a disaster. Bradley drinks fast and gets drunk really quickly. Since I’m not drinking, I notice his slurring, I tire of his repetitions, I ward off his unwanted touch, and eventually, I find myself surreptitiously checking my phone for messages from Ritchie. When I find nothing, I excuse myself, go to the bathroom, and spend ages there. It’s a relief when it’s time to go home. 

As I near the house, Bradley gestures to a parking lot. “Pull over.”

“I don’t think it’s a good –”

“Pull over!”

Reluctantly, I do.

“Kill the engine.”

I turn off the engine and look at Bradley in the dark.

“Reminds me of them days,” he says, revealing white teeth. “Remember how we used to make out in the back seat?”

I give an embarrassed chuckle. He leans in, grabs my face and kisses me, his tongue probing my mouth.

Because I am angry with Ritchie, and because I’m on a mission to oust Scarlett, I don’t stop him. I’m also curious – how will it feel? I’ve wanted this for so long, craved it and dreamed of it, so how will it feel to make out with Bradley? Will it stop me from missing Ritchie? Will it perhaps make me want to get back with Bradley?

I quickly get the answer I’m looking for. Bradley’s tongue in my mouth feels like…well, like raw steak. Like I am eating a piece of cold, raw steak
early
in the morning.
Before
I have my coffee. It’s totally unlike Ritchie’s warm and generous mouth, which I can never get enough of. 

As he kisses me, Bradley’s hands roam over my breasts, down my stomach and over my thighs. His touch is all wrong – my body stiffens at his touch, his hands feel rough, invasive, and involuntarily, my thighs clamp together. 

It’s Ritchie. He’s here. Right between us. I pull away, angry at Bradley for not leaving Scarlett, angry at Scarlett for causing me to feel this way toward a man I once loved with all my heart, and
furious
at Ritchie for deserting me and causing me to miss him so much that I feel like crying. I shove Bradley away.

“What?”

“I don’t want to be your mistress, Bradley,” I snap, straightening my top and pulling down my skirt. “I’m not like that.”

Slowly he runs the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“With me it’s all or nothing. I don’t want to be the other woman. I want to be the only woman.”

“Rival, it’s not so easy for me to leave Scarlett.”

Yes it is. It bloody is. Do it and let me feel like a winner.

Without a word, I turn on the ignition and slip the gear in reverse. I’m not taking this shit anymore. He has to leave Scarlett and come back to me. Now that I have broken up with Ritchie, I feel a desperate need for Bradley to leave Scarlett.

“I have commitments with her, you know.”

I glance at him, then look at the road ahead.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really want to be with you. I just need time.”

I pull into his driveway, slip the gear in park, but keep the engine running.

He leans in and kisses me lightly on the lips. His scent is all wrong, his stubble feels like sandpaper against my cheek, his lips are dry, and his whisky does not in any way smell like Ritchie’s breath, even though logic tells me it should. Suddenly, I feel a terrible ache for Ritchie.

“Night,” I mutter as tears well in my eyes and blur my vision.
Damn you, Ritchie! 

Random Seduction Tip

Okay, so you’ve successfully seduced your target. Now what? Sit on your sexual laurels and become complacent? Allow familiarity and the minutiae of everyday existence to creep in and spoil the fantasy you’ve painstakingly worked to create? Allow laziness and lassitude to sidle in and snip at the energy from your coupling?

To prevent a reversal of the effects of your seduction, you need to keep things fresh and alive. How? With refresher seduction sessions. A second, third and fourth seduction may be necessary. In fact, seduction should be ongoing, until you tire of it. Until you seek a new challenge. To ensure you are never forgotten and always longed for, you need to infect the seduced with one last unforgettable sexual seduction, then leave immediately. Right away exit from the scene without an explanation. When your discarded lover thinks about you, he will remember that last time, and perplexity and bewilderment will have him chasing after you for the rest of his life.

RITCHIE

She hasn’t called. It’s been three days. I can’t believe it. It’s really tough without Rival, I have to admit. Night times are the hardest – I struggle to fall asleep without her in my arms. I miss her warm body, I miss the way she burrows into me when we sleep, I miss her legs wrapped around mine. At night, Rival becomes most needy and won’t sleep unless she’s touching me. Even when it’s hot, she’ll say, “Let’s just touch feet, okay?” I like that. I thought she liked it too. I was obviously wrong, or she’d have been here by now
. Suck it up.