Having Fun with Mr. Wrong (36 page)

What a ridiculous sight. She sickened him.

“Not for long, Anabel. No divorce court will look kindly at your actions. A responsible officer of a corporation doesn’t wipe the operating account dry. Obviously, you had other plans than business, and I plan to sue you for the money back. Make no mistake. Do you realize I had to fire most of my accounting staff today? Men and women I’ve trusted. All because of you.”

She laughed, apparently delighted with the chaos she’d caused.

“You’re drunk, again. How can you expect to have a relationship with me? Your relationship is with this.” He knocked the silver Tiffany cooler holding her bottle of pinot grigio off the table. It bounced on the cement and rolled to a stop.

She tried to get up from the chaise lounge, but stumbled and fell. Her precious Maltese dogs ran up to her, whimpering, and licked her face.

He watched her in disgust and didn’t bother to help her up.

“You’ve become a pathetic mess, Anabel. We don’t go out anymore because of your drunken sloppiness. You’re an embarrassment. I’ve pleaded with you to get help, but you’ve refused.”

She stood, losing her balance, but regained it and in an attempt to appear in control, she straightened her hat.
Literally helpless
. She retrieved the wine bottle that had rolled to the edge of the screen enclosure and dumped the last of it into her glass. “
You’re
the one who’s going to need help, Michael. Because I’m divorcing you. And I’m
not
going away quietly. By the time I’m through with you and your business, there will be no Maddox Industries. I’ll get the best lawyer in town, and you’ll be leaving Palm Beach in disgrace.”

“We’ll see who leaves Palm Beach in disgrace, Anabel. My bet is it won’t be me.”

Without further argument, he left the mess that once had been his loving partner and wife and went to his bedroom. Michael packed his suitcase. He’d go to New York for the weekend. He called his pilot to get the jet ready. Then he phoned his lawyer to set the wheels in motion to press charges against Anabel and prepare for a nasty divorce settlement. He’d rebuild his business. As for Anabel, she’d abandoned him years ago. There was no fixing what was left of their marriage.

Nor did he want to. He was moving on. Finally.

****

Guido worked tirelessly at the World Trade Center construction site. He loved being the foreman on the job, but hell if Carmala didn’t haunt his thoughts every minute on the job site. Even though it was late March, the day was an unusually cold one. Yet it was a Friday, always good. For what, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he had any special plans or anything.

Kevin Colby, the super who reported to him on the job, bounced over to him. “Come on, Guid. The last beam is being lifted now. Photo ops and signing time. The camera crew is calling for the foreman.”

Guido had to admit he was very proud of his current job. They were lifting the last beam on the World Trade Center, Tower One, the largest tower of the WTC site.

The crew of twenty construction workers, a few hire-up managers, the press, and a large crowd behind police barricades watched as the very last beam was lifted to the one-hundred-and-second floor. The American flag flew boldly at the top, as well as it should.

A news reporter anchored for a spot in front. After the beam was placed, he faced the cameraman. “Folks, we’ve just witnessed the last beam placement for World Trade Tower One.” He turned toward Guido, “This is Guido Cortollo, the foreman on the World Trade rebuild. How does it feel seeing the job finally complete?”

Temporarily blinded by the bright lights and stunned with the question, Guido’s heart thudded hard against his chest. He wasn’t prepared for a comment. “Well, uh, it certainly is a great sense of accomplishment. Without the hard work of our fine crew”—he turned and waved toward the crew that quickly gathered in a tight circle behind him—“none of this would have been completed on schedule. We’re
all
very proud.” Guido felt his grin stretch from ear to ear.

The newsman thanked him for his time and pushed through the crowd toward the big bosses.

Whew! Guido was glad that was over.

“Hey, buddy, good job,” Kevin said. “You know the boss said we can cut out early today, and I don’t have to get back to the fiancée right away. Why don’t we go out to get a couple brewskies at O’Molly’s?”

“Sure, why not?”

****

O’Molly’s Restaurant and Pub was covered wall-to-wall with fire rescue and police patches from departments all over the country who had participated in the nine-eleven rescue efforts. Guido had always liked coming to this joint. They made great chicken soup, and that was what he wanted to get the chill out of his system. Frequently, over the past year, this was where the guys congregated for an after-work beer.

Once they settled into a booth, beers and soups served, Kevin said, “Guido, I know it hasn’t been too easy with the breakup with Carmala. I’ve asked before, and you didn’t want to talk, but I thought I’d offer a listening ear. In case you’re ready.” He leaned in and patted him on the arm.

Guido drank down half of his dark ale and nodded. Yep, he needed it off his chest. He revealed the entire story, including his indiscretion—the safe, fictional version, of course. He had an image to uphold, after all.

Kevin shook his head. “It’s sad. One indiscretion and a four-year relationship evaporates, just like that.”

“It wasn’t the only thing. I know now that my possessiveness and…”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself. It takes two.” Kevin finished the last of his soup and pushed it aside. “Those executive types, it’s hard for a guy like us to feel like we’re on the same page. I know what you’ve been going through. Ever since Susie got the promotion to bank supervisor, I’ve seen changes in her. I question whether we’ll make it to the altar—but let’s keep the subject on you and Carmala. I’d say, buddy, you shouldn’t give up hope. Those types they don’t rush into anything. You need to strategize, plan your next steps to get her back…”

Kevin continued to talk, but Guido drifted off. Kevin was right, of course. Guido would have to plan, methodically, the best way to convince her to give them a second chance. His desperation had led him to a few ingenious moves already. Since Carmala didn’t bother to change her cell phone passwords, he’d found a way of tapping into her phone. He got her text messages and voice mails, and even found a way of accessing her home computer. Now he could gather information on what she was doing, what nights she was in, when she went out with the
putanas
…

“Hey, Guido.” Kevin snapped him back to the present moment. “I didn’t mean to depress you, buddy. Come on, the next round will be on me. Let’s talk about something else.”

But there was
nothing
else in the world Guido was interested in talking about. He lived, breathed, and drank thoughts of Carmala, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Yeah, she was an obsession, but it was his obsession to have and he wouldn’t give it up. No matter what.

****

Jon Barlo stared at his models doing the practice run for fall fashion week. Everything fell into place; it’d be another fantastic season. Life was out of kilter without Carmala Rosa in his life. She was such a doll, so sweet and innocent. He wished he could somehow, some way, make it all up to her.
Poor Carmie.
She had to think he was an awful person. Still, he hoped that one day she’d talk to him again. They had some fun times ahead, he just knew it. If all went well, she and her little posse wouldn’t be able to resist the plan he had in mind.

Carmala ought to thank him. He
had
helped her get away from that onerous boyfriend of hers.

And poor Guido, what a mess. What the hell did he think he was doing? As hot as he was, Guido was not gay.

The last model walked down the catwalk.

“Okay, girls that’s a wrap. We’ll reconvene Monday and do a full walk-through.”

Jon had a couple of hours to play with. He needed to grab something to eat, pick up his dry cleaning, and get to a show for a client’s one-man act at some obscure theater downtown. Shoot, he had forgotten where it was. Maybe his assistant Millie knew. He glanced around his showroom. It was already deserted. He Googled the play name and located the theatre.

Jon walked briskly down Fifth in the freezing cold weather. Good thing he had his overcoat. He grabbed a cab—his driver had the night off—and headed downtown.

He stepped out of the cab and noted the area was unusually crowded. Then he remembered. They were laying the last beam at the WTC site that day.

Fortunately, his client had his tickets waiting for him at the theater’s will-call so he wouldn’t have to wait in line for them. He’d grab something to eat on the fly.

“Where you runnin’ to?”

The familiar voice stopped him in his place. Warily he looked in the direction of the deep-throated sound. It was Guido. Jon hadn’t seen Guido or talked with him since the morning he left Jon’s apartment.

“Ah, hey, Guido, how are you?” Jon attempted to act casual, but he heard his voice shake.

“Fine, how’s things with you?” Guido moved closer. Close enough Jon could smell liquor on his breath.

“Guess today was a big day for you, huh?” Jon’s hair rose on the back of his neck. He feared what Guido would do next.

“No more small talk. You bastard…I begged you not to say anything.”

“Guid, I—I don’t know—”

He moved in closer now, his face right in Jon’s face. Terror crept up Jon’s spine and froze him in place. He had never seen this side of Guido, although he heard plenty about it from Carm.

“You don’t know shit, do you? What the fuck, Jon? You ruined my life!”

Jon attempted to pull back, but Guido grabbed him by the arms. “I think it’s about time someone knocked some sense into you—”

Jon pushed at Guido’s iron grip, to no avail. Great. Guido was going to beat him up. Should he scream?

“You think I’m a fool to let you get away with it, don’t you?” Guido roughly shook him. Jon’s heart beat so hard against his chest he could hear it in his ears. He tried like hell to move. He turned his face away, but Guido only moved in closer.

“You might think you’re safe. But remember this, I’ll never forget what you did.”

And then, miraculously, Guido let him go. He gave Jon one last menacing glare and then smiled, more like a Cheshire cat grin, turned on his heel, and walked the opposite way.

Jon made his way to the theater and tried to get his banging heart to calm down.

What did Guido mean by saying he’ll never forget? Was he going to come after him?

Nah, he wouldn’t.
Guido was just hurt. Jon would let some time pass and then reach out to him. Surely, they could put this all behind them, couldn’t they? They were adults, not children.

****

Bill had special plans tonight. It was his and Jane’s first month anniversary, and he planned to take her out for a long, luxurious dinner with some chilled champagne.

A tap came on his door. He glanced up from his paperwork, and there stood the most amazing woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her long, sweeping blonde curls surrounded her lovely head. She wore a beautiful two-piece winter-white suit and pink blouse under an opened full-length white mink coat. Her inviting green eyes spoke of love. He appreciated the fact that she wore the fur, his favorite Christmas present to her.

Bill stood to greet Jane. He encircled her in a warm embrace, greedily kissing her lips, not caring who was still around the office to stare. Let them. They were newlyweds. This was his wife, and by God, he was proud as hell to show her off.

Jane inched away from him. “You’re going to muss me.” She smiled. “I thought we had early dinner reservations.”

“We do, my dear. I got these for you.” He grabbed the dozen long-stemmed red roses off his back credenza and presented them to her. “To my beautiful wife. Happy anniversary.”

Jane accepted the roses and sank her nose deep into them.

“Shall we, dear?” He grabbed his coat and guided her out of the office, wishing everyone a good weekend on the way out.

Bill and Jane were into their third course and on their second bottle of champagne. He could tell she’d felt the effects of the champagne by the way her eyes slightly drooped.

“Honey…”

He detected a slight slur. That was okay. He’d put his sleeping beauty to bed as soon as they got home. It was Friday, no work tomorrow.

“I was thinking. We should have a baby—now. I’m so ready, I can feel it in my bones.”

Bill almost choked on his champagne. He had to be careful to not show his nervousness. He was still working on things. He’d invested the best that money could buy with the doctors. They weren’t there yet.

“My biological clock is ticking fast. I know it’s only been a month, but…” She sipped her champagne.

He willed her to keep drinking. Maybe she’d get sleepy and the subject would be closed. At least for tonight.

The waiter served the main course. Ah, thank God, the conversation was saved by food, providing a convenient pause in a most uncomfortable conversation. Bill dug in, hoping she’d follow suit.

She didn’t. “My administrative assistant is due this summer, and we talk about the pregnancy all the time. I crave it, Bill. I want so badly to have a baby. Why aren’t we getting pregnant?”

Was she serious? Even perfectly fertile couples didn’t get pregnant that easily. “It takes time, dear. It will come. We’ve only been married a little over a month, for goodness sakes.”

“Yes, but we’ve been off birth control for longer than that.”

His heart dropped. She hadn’t told him that. So he wasn’t the only one with secrets. He wondered how long she’d been off the pill. “We have our whole life ahead of us. You’re in your first year of work. Slow down.”

“I’m afraid that we won’t get pregnant. We have to, this year. I want my first two babies before I hit thirty. The office has a very fair policy about maternity leave. I’ve already talked to the DA about it. He’s all for it. Said I can work from home and that a pregnant assistant DA might sway juries even more in our favor.” She chuckled at her own little joke.