Hittin' It Out the Park (28 page)

“Um, there's one more thing I have to say . . .”

“What's that?”

“I don't think it's a good idea for you to call me anymore.”

Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped, as if she'd experienced a particularly vicious physical assault. “It's gonna be hard not being able to hear your voice, but I'll leave you alone if that's what you really want.”

“That's the way it has to be.”

“Okay, I'll delete your number,” she said solemnly.

“I'm really sorry, Sexy.”

“I know you are.”

Once again, she simulated sobbing sounds, only this time, she was much louder.

“Please don't cry, Sexy. One of these days, you'll find a good man for yourself,” Randy said, attempting to console her.

“No other man can take your place,” she said shrilly. Realizing her voice had emerged high-pitched and indignant, she softened her tone. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, Randy. No idea how much I love you. But you won't have to worry about me contacting you again. Bye, Randy,” she said, choking out the last two words and then hanging up abruptly.

Although she'd given Randy the impression that she couldn't bear to linger on the phone with the man she'd loved and lost, the truth was, she had to rush to the nearest Planned Parenthood center before they closed for the day. Sexy had one more trick up her sleeve, and to pull it off, she needed an extra pack of birth control pills.

*  *  *

A shiver of excitement ran up Sexy's spine as she bypassed the doorman by craftily blending in with a trio of leggy blondes who looked like a group of models as they entered the chic SoHo building where Randy and Cheryl lived. She made her way to the elevator, and the concierge, busy with a delivery person, didn't seem to notice her.

With the keys to the Alstons' apartment in her Prada bag, Sexy could barely suppress a smile as the elevator ascended.

Inside, she frowned as she took in the ridiculously large apartment that was decorated almost entirely in white. The stark white walls were adorned with white abstract prints. There was a white, L-shaped, sectional sofa placed on a huge black-and-white tribal rug. Oddly shaped white table lamps were set upon white tables. All that damn white was blinding. The only splashes of color were the overabundance of fresh-cut flower arrangements that were set in white vases throughout the apartment. There were so many flowers, the place held the heavy floral scent of a funeral parlor.

Sexy would have had more time to snoop and get into mischief if Randy and Cheryl were out of town at an away-game, but being that they were only as far away as the Bronx at Yankee Stadium, she couldn't risk dawdling and possibly getting caught.

Still, she couldn't resist taking a quick tour of the place, which was much larger and grander than the luxury apartment Randy had rented for her. Hmph! She'd make sure he made up for this slight in other ways.

The white theme continued in the master suite with a white chaise lounge and antique chairs in the sitting area. And of course there were bouquets of flowers on every available surface.
Geez! What is it with this chick and her obsession with flowers?
In the bathroom, the cavernous shower was tiled with pearly white marble, and a white, excessively fluffy, sheepskin rug was placed on the floor outside the shower and a matching rug beside the sunken bathtub.

Sexy took the pack of birth control pills from her bag and burst into laughter. Ironically, the ivory-colored birth control compact matched Cheryl's color scheme perfectly.

She considered hiding the pills in the medicine cabinet, but a cursory glance informed her that Cheryl would easily spot them inside the generously sized unit. She had to stash them in a place where they wouldn't be easily noticed. But first things first. She marched to the kitchen. The place sparkled with stainless steel, top-of-the-line Viking appliances. She scanned the contents inside the stylish French-door refrigerator, trying to figure out what food to spike with the birth control pills she'd crushed up before leaving her apartment.

But the fridge was poorly stocked with only low-fat yogurt, a few pieces of fruit, containers of arugula and other leafy greens, and a luxury brand of bottled water called Tasmanian Rain. Sexy sneered at the water that was packaged as attractively as an expensive bottle of wine. She'd heard about the trend among celebrities to drink pure rainwater, but Cheryl wasn't a celebrity and she had a hell of a lot of nerve trying to act like one. Before she'd hoodwinked Randy into marrying her, Cheryl had merely been one of thousands of unknown models. And Sexy was certain her tastes hadn't been so refined back when she was clawing her way through the competition to get the next moderately paying modeling gig.

Aggravated, Sexy slammed the refrigerator closed and began searching the cabinets. She spotted a dark brown bag with a label that read:
Ethiopian Fancy. Dark Roast Coffee.

She recalled that this was the African coffee that Randy had mentioned when they were at the Empire State Building together. The same coffee that Cheryl was passionate about and drank several times a day. A sneaky smile crept across her face.
I got you now, bitch!

After mixing the crushed pills into the coffee grounds, Sexy traipsed down the long corridor, admiring the lithographs on the wall as she made her way back to the master suite to plant the compact that contained the remaining pills.

T
wo weeks later, Cheryl and Stephen were sitting in her living room sipping coffee and talking nonstop when Randy came in from the bedroom wearing his pajamas and robe.

“Hey, baby. It's about time you dragged yourself out of bed,” Cheryl said cheerfully. “Want some coffee?”

“Cheryl, can I speak to you a moment?”

“Well, good morning to you, too,” Stephen said irritably.

Randy didn't even bother looking at him. “Privately,” he said, heading back to the bedroom.

Cheryl looked at Stephen and shrugged. “I'll be back in a minute, sweetie.”

“Okay.” Stephen looked at his watch. “I want to get to Bloomie's before the lunchtime rush.”

Randy was sitting on the bed when Cheryl walked into the room. “What's up, baby? Something wrong?”

Randy stood up. “Cheryl, I was looking through your night table, and I found these.” Randy showed her an ivory-colored birth control compact. “Do you mind telling me why you have them?”

“What? I don't know whose they are, but they're not mine.” She took the compact from Randy and opened it. Six of the little yellow pills were missing. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“That's what I want to ask you,” Randy said, a tremble evident in his voice. “All this time you told me you wanted a baby as much as me. Were you joking?”

“Are you serious? No, of course not,” Cheryl said indignantly.

“So outright lying, huh?” Randy's voice was rising with each word. “Didn't want to ruin your beautiful body, huh?” He stood up. “But why didn't you simply tell me that, Cheryl? Of course I want to have a baby, but if you didn't want to, why didn't you tell me, you know? Why fool me like this?” He walked over to the window, and stared out for a moment before turning back toward her and shouted. “I guess you and your sissy friend out there have been having a big laugh over ‘young country boy,' huh?”

“Randy, I don't know what the hell is going on, but you need to get ahold of yourself.” Cheryl walked over and placed her hands on Randy's shoulders. “Where did you say you found these pills?”

Randy roughly pulled away. “In your night table, where you keep them, Cheryl. And if they're not yours, tell me who else keeps their birth control pills in
your
night table? I sure as hell don't use them.”

“Well, neither do I!” Cheryl shouted, though she was still trying to keep her temper while she figured out what the hell was going on. “I don't know whose pills these are, I don't know how they got in my night table, but I do know I don't like being accused of doing something I'm not doing. Why would I tell you I'm not taking birth control pills if I really were?”

“To keep me in shackles.”

Cheryl's mouth dropped open. “Randy, this doesn't even sound like you.”
In fact, it sounds a helluva lot like that skanky-ass Sexy. I should have suspected that Randy was keeping in touch with that skank behind my back. What kind of shit has she been feeding Randy?

“Why? Because I don't sound like, ya know, a pussy-whipped country hick? Someone you can twist around your finger? Someone you can keep using and using while you lie to me about wanting my baby?” Randy plopped down on the divan and cradled his head in his hands. “Cheryl, how could you do this to me?”

A pussy-whipped country hick, huh? Yeah, Sexy's gotten to him.
“Baby,” Cheryl said, dropping to her knees besides him, “you've got this all wrong. I haven't done anything to you. Randy, I want to have a child as badly as you. You know that.”

“Then why are you taking those pills?” Randy demanded.

“I'm not taking any damn pills,” Cheryl shouted. “Will you get a grip?”

“YOU have the nerve to get pissed off at me, now?” Randy jumped up. “I have to get the fuck outta here.”

“Cheryl, sweetie,” Stephen's voice rang out from the living room. “Sounds like you're going to be busy for a while so I'm going to go ahead and get out of here. Call me when you get a chance.”

Cheryl watched Randy as he ripped off his robe, pulled off his pajamas, and threw on jeans, a shirt and sneakers, not bothering to shower, shave or brush his teeth. The pills weren't hers, someone was trying to frame her, and the only person she knew devious enough to do something like that was that damn Sexy. But how had she managed to plant the pills? She couldn't worry about that now, though. If Randy left believing that she had really deceived him, he wasn't coming back. But how could she prove she wasn't on the pill?

“Randy, I want a baby as bad as you, sweetie,” Cheryl pleaded. “You know that. Why would I say I wanted a baby if I really didn't?”

“Because you're afraid of losing your figure,” Randy shouted. “It's like Sexy said; you're more worried about your looks than about us starting a family.”

“What does Sexy have to do with this,” Cheryl stormed back.
Damn it, I knew it!

“Nothing.” Randy grabbed his keys off the bureau. “She doesn't have a damn thing to do with it. Except maybe she's finally opened my eyes. All this time you've been calling her a conniving slut, but now I see you're the one who's been doing all the conniving.”

As much as she wanted to slap Randy for that statement, if she did, it was only going to hasten his departure. And if he left now, there was no doubt where he was headed, and she couldn't chance him heading there in the mood he was in. “Randy, listen, wait; how about I simply prove it?” she said as he walked toward the bedroom door.

He stopped and turned toward her. “How?”

“There's got to be some kind of blood or urine test I can take.”

“You mean . . . you'd be willing to take one?”

The way he said that made the hair on the back of Cheryl's neck rise. He acted like he'd already thought about it, but had decided against asking her. But Randy would never think of something like that. Whatever . . . the test would prove she hadn't been taking birth control pills. Then she'd have to figure out how Sexy had planted the damn pills.

Three hours later, Cheryl and Randy sat silently together waiting for the results. Both of their arms were crossed, and both stared straight ahead. It had taken them only an hour to find a diagnostics lab that could do the tests, and an extra three hundred dollars on top of the usual one hundred-dollar fee to get the results immediately instead of waiting two days.
Boy, is he going to feel stupid when the lab tech comes back and tells him the results were negative. And as soon as we leave here, I'm going to find Sexy Sanchez and kick her little skanky ass.

“Mr. and Mrs. Alston?”

Cheryl looked up, and Randy jumped up.

Two minutes later, Cheryl slumped back down in her chair as Randy stomped angrily out of the office.

S
howing no expression, Sexy sat next to Randy on her expensive crocodile leather sofa and listened attentively as he expressed his hurt and disappointment in discovering his wife had pretended to want a child while secretly taking birth control pills.

“Like I told you on the phone, I found the container in her night table, and even though there was almost a week's worth of missing pills—pills that she had obviously taken while claiming she was trying to get pregnant with my child—she still insisted that she didn't know where those contraceptives came from.” Grim-faced, Randy sighed. “She kept right on lying, even after we got the lab results that proved she took those pills. You were right; she'd been lying to me all this time.”

Sexy slowly shook her head. “When you called me and told me, I wasn't really serious about you making her get tested. And I certainly didn't think she'd go for it, anyway.”

“Getting tested was her idea! She offered to take a blood test, and that's what has me so baffled. I can't figure out why she'd take it that far, knowing she's guilty.”

I can't believe the bitch played right into my hands!
Sexy steepled her fingers in thought and then chose her words carefully. “Is it possible that she didn't expect you to take her up on her offer to be tested?” She peered into Randy's eyes, holding his gaze challengingly.

Randy thought about it, and then nodded slightly. “You might be right. Cheryl knows me well. She has me all figured out, and she knows I don't like to make waves in our marriage. Despite the damning evidence, she expected me to take her word for it, simply to keep the peace. She must have been shocked when I took her up on the offer, and even went so far as to go to the lab with her and wait for the results.”