How to Kill Your Husband (2 page)

“
Mama
!”

“
Hey
! What's going on, man?”

“I planted a lima bean!” he announced, holding up a plastic cup filled with dirt. George was fair-skinned like his father, the color of a sugar cookie. He was a small boy, but he had a big head and large eyes. He wore khaki pants with a white golf shirt, and although all of the children were dressed similarly due to the dress code, Claire thought her boy was the most handsome fourth grader at the school.

“How was he today?” she asked his teacher, Mrs. Flores.

“He's great,” the woman said immediately. “One of the few I
don't
have to worry about—
Justin, spit that out
! I'm sorry,” she said and turned back to Claire. She put a hand on George's head. “He's great. Still don't have anything bad to say about him.”

“Good,” Claire said with a smile. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” the teacher said and wiped her brow. She turned away quickly. “Justin!
Get over here! No! Right here!
”

Claire walked away giggling. She never went to college, but education would have been her major if she had pursued a degree. Sometimes she regretted her decision, but scenes like that reminded her how sweet it was to sit behind a desk and deal with
adults
for a living.

“Can I get a new game?” George asked on the way back to the car.

“What kind of game?”

“For my Playstation.”

“You got a new game for your birthday.”

“I beat it already.”

“You've got another birthday coming sooner or later.”

“What? That's like, that's like
a year
from now!”

“You'll still want it then,” Claire said with a grin.

“Huh?”

“Maybe this weekend,” she said. “We can get you a
used
one from GameStop.”

“I hope it doesn't have a lot of scratches.”

Together, Claire and her husband brought in almost a hundred and fifty thousand a year. Not many children of such well-to-do parents would have to get used toys, but those video games were fifty dollars or more these days. It was hard, but Claire was determined to teach her children the value of a dollar.

“Can I sit in the front?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

The boy rushed ahead of her, but Claire didn't have to chase him down. She parked with the passenger door next to the curb so he wouldn't have to go in the street. He was already seated and buckled in by the time Claire caught up.

“Did you make that card for your Daddy?” she asked when she started the car.

“
Oh yeah
!” George Jr. reached between his legs and ripped open his backpack. After a bit of rustling, he came up with a blue folder. He fumbled through it for half a minute and then produced a single sheet of paper with drawings on it. He handed it to his mother, and Claire immediately cherished it like it was an original Van Gogh.

Anniversary
was misspelled, Daddy was as tall as a house, and one of Mommy's legs was relatively two feet longer than the other, but Claire had never seen anything so precious.

“Aww. This is great. You did this all by yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“It's very good work.”

“I know. I'm going to be an artist when I grow up.”

“I thought you were going to the Air Force like your daddy,” Claire reminded him.

“I am,” George Jr. confirmed. “I'm going to draw pictures from up in my jet.”

Claire put her Lexus in drive and headed for Clarke Middle School. George Jr. chatted the whole way there. He was going to make quite a conversationalist one day—but Claire wasn't too concerned with the items on his lunch tray and the order he ate them in. She was a good listener, though; she nodded often and said
Hmmm
every time he stopped for a breath.

* * *

They couldn't park directly in front of Stacy's school because of the buses, so Claire met up with her middle child in the visitor's parking lot. Stacy got out at the same time as George, so she was always ready and waiting—usually on the steps of the gymnasium. Claire saw her there, and she saw that Stacy wasn't waiting alone. Once again there was a boy with her. He didn't attempt a hug or anything when Stacy got up to leave, but they looked like they wanted to.

Like her mom, Stacy was tall for a girl, but she had no problem showing off her long, yellow legs. She wore knee-length dresses and skirts whenever the weather permitted. She was only in the sixth grade, however, and the boys were not yet aware of the treasure they had among them. Well, most of them weren't.

“Why can't you ever pick me up
first
?” Stacy asked when she got to the car. Her hair was long like Claire's, and she wore it in two ponytails today. She had on a tight, pink T-shirt with the word HOTTIE printed across the chest. Her watch was pink, the ribbons in her hair were pink, and her lips were pink; naturally so. This was Mommy's bubblegum princess.

“You sure aren't having a hard time waiting,” Claire said as Stacy climbed in the back. “Every time I pull up you're with some knot-head boy.”

“No, I'm not. I'm usually with Crystal.”

“Where's Crystal now?” Claire asked, backing out of her parking spot.

“She got detention.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“You don't even know what she did.”

“All right. Tell me what she did.”

“She went to the bathroom without asking the teacher.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“She did ask at first,” Stacy said. “But he wouldn't let her go.”

“That's against the law,” Claire said. “You're not going to have me believing that.”

“That's against the law,” George Jr. said.

“Didn't nobody ask you,” Stacy said.

“
Didn't nobody
?” Claire hit the brakes and eyed her daughter in the rear-view mirror. “Girl, it sounds like you need to go back in there. Didn't you have English class today?”

“
Nobody asked you
,” Stacy said to her little brother.

“That's better,” Claire said. “And don't talk to your brother like that.”

George Jr. sat up straighter and smiled. Stacy slouched and fastened her seatbelt.

* * *

Humboldt High School was right around the corner. Claire was glad for that because her oldest child had a sour disposition on most days. Nicole was fourteen years old. She was goofy at times, sometimes mature. Bold and beautiful some days, and insecure on the others; basically all things that came with that confounding age. She began to develop early—when she was just eleven—and Claire thought that had a lot to do with her daughter's social issues.

But Nikki was in high school now, and she didn't stick out like a sore thumb anymore. She was a freshman built like a senior, but that was a lot better than having that body in middle school.

The busses were already pulling away by the time they got to Humboldt. Claire parked in front of the main entrance, but she still didn't see her daughter milling around with the other restless souls. She sighed and checked her watch. It was already three-thirty. George Sr. wouldn't be home until after six, but she had a lot of getting ready to do on this special night.

“You want me to go find her?” Stacy asked, undoing her seatbelt.

“No, I don't,” Claire said. “You keep your hot-tailed self right there.”

“I'm not
hot-tailed
!” Stacy whined.

Claire frowned at her in the mirror. “You know how old I was before I let a boy wait with me after school?”

“I don't know,” Stacy said. “But I know it was a
long time ago
. He was probably a
caveman
.”

That cracked little George up.

“Oh,
ha ha
,” Claire said.

“How old
were
you, Mama?” George asked.

Claire turned and smiled at him. “Thanks for asking, young man. I was a senior in high school,” she told Stacy. “And that boy was your
daddy
.”

“We were just sitting there,” Stacy said. “We didn't hold hands or nothing.”

“Or
anything
,” Claire corrected.

“Anything.”

“I don't like girls,” George Jr. said.

“That's a good boy,” Claire said.

“They don't like you, either,” Stacy said.

“That's enough,” Claire said. She checked her watch again. “Darn this girl…”

“There she go,” Stacy said.

Claire looked up and was happy to see Nikki emerge from the building. “There she
is
,” she told Stacy. “Or there she
goes
. You've got homework tonight.”

“I already have homework.”

“You have more now.” Claire had plenty of reading and grammar worksheets at home. Sometimes the lessons she assigned her children were harder than the stuff they brought from school.

“
Man
,” Stacy groaned.

“Ah-ha, you got homework!” George Jr. teased.

“Now you're getting some, too, for gloating,” Claire told him.

“That's okay. I like homework,” he said. And that was true. Claire couldn't do anything but smile at him.

Nicole Hudgens approached the vehicle on her mother's side with all the enthusiasm of a three-toed sloth. Of all her children, Claire saw more of herself in the oldest girl: Nikki was tall and dark-skinned with large eyes that were serious most of the time. She had her mother's legs and breasts, but she considered this figure a curse at this point of her life. Today she sported baggy jeans and a long-sleeved button-down that was equally over-sized. She wore her hair down, with a large bang hanging over her left eye.

“Another bad day?” Claire asked when Nikki opened the door.

“It was alright,” the brooding beauty said.

“If you keep walking around looking like that people are going to think you're depressed,” Claire warned.

“She needs a boyfriend,” Stacy offered.

“
I/She do/does not need a boyfriend
,” Claire and Nikki said at the same time.

Claire met eyes with her oldest daughter in the rearview mirror and smiled at her.

Nikki smiled back, and then rolled her eyes—lest anyone think her and Mommy shared a
moment
.

CHAPTER TWO

CLAIRE'S GIFT

Claire didn't think she could pull it off, but she was a
determined woman
when she
pulled into her two-car garage at 4:15 p.m. She went over the game plan in her head and then started barking orders.

“George, hurry and get up to your room. Change out of those school clothes and get started on your homework—”

“But what about my—”

“I'll bring a snack up there.” She spun in her seat. “Nikki, you guys are eating early tonight.”

“Can we eat pizza?”

“There's a tuna casserole in the fridge. I need you to put it in the oven for me—and some rolls. How much homework do you have?”

“A lot.”

“What about you, Stacy?”

“I just have to read this dumb story.”

“Okay, I need
you
to make a salad for me.”

“You said you were giving her more homework,” George Jr. reminded his mother.

Stacy kicked the back of his seat.

“That's right,” Claire said. “All right. I'll make the salad myself. Did y'all get the cards?' she asked her daughters.

“Yes,” they said at the same time.

“Well sign them,” Claire instructed. “And write whatever you're going to put in there. Your father will be home at six-thirty. I want y'all fed and
smiling
and ready to get
out of our way
when he gets here.” No one moved, so she clapped her hands. “Chop chop! Let's go! Let's go!”

Everyone exited the car and headed in separate directions once inside. Claire went upstairs and replaced her slacks and button-down with shorts and a T-shirt. When she got back to the kitchen, Nikki was putting the casserole in the oven like a good girl.

Claire grabbed a Lunchable from the refrigerator and headed back upstairs to George's room. On the way, she stopped in the office and found a worksheet that would help Stacy with her double negatives. She got a multiplication worksheet for George. She dropped these items off and barely stuck around long enough for a response.

“
Thanks, Mom
!”

“
Aww, man
!”

When she got back downstairs, Nikki was still in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Claire asked her.

Nikki took a large serving bowl from the cupboard. “I'm making a salad.”

“I thought you had a lot of homework.”

“It's not that much,” Nikki said and looked away sheepishly.

Claire went to her and pulled her close for a sideways hug. “See, you
do
love me!”

Nikki grinned.

* * *

With
two
women in the kitchen, things didn't turn out so bad after all. Claire had her lobster tails thawing in the fridge already, and they looked perfect when she took them out. She put her large pot on the stovetop and grabbed a smaller saucepan for the wild rice. She skewered the lobster tails with wooden pins while waiting for the water to boil.

Behind her, Nikki sliced up tomatoes, mushrooms, and ham for their salad. Afterwards, she baked dinner rolls to go with the casserole.

At five o'clock the children's supper was ready. Claire thanked Nikki and then shooed her away so she could get started on her homework. Claire popped her lobsters in the colander and slid two potatoes in the oven before going upstairs to check on the terrible two. To her surprise, both Stacy and George Jr. were in their rooms working obediently. She praised them briefly then ran back downstairs to set the table.

* * *

By 5:45 the house smelled of
deliciousness
. Claire called the kids down for dinner, and she took a shower while they ate. When she got out, she slid into her
hot
red dress and did her hair as quickly as possible. She put on lipstick and a little blush for this special occasion and spritzed Fendi perfume on her neck, wrists and chest.

She checked herself in the mirror one last time at six-fifteen. The dress was perfect. It was strapless, and her bare neck and shoulders just begged for kisses. Her strapless bra pushed her breasts up, and they were full and inviting. Claire had more cleavage than a sixteenth-century aristocrat.

When she got back downstairs, the kids were already done eating and gone—except for Nikki. Not only had she cleared the table, but she had most of the dishes washed already. Claire walked up to her and put a hand on her forehead.

“What?” Nikki asked, backing away.

“Are you sick or something?” Claire asked good-naturedly.

“No.”

“Why are you being so helpful?”

Nikki shrugged. “It's your anniversary,” she said. “Aren't I supposed to do nice things for you today?”

“Who told you that?” Claire asked with a grin.

“You did,” Nikki said. “You tell us that
every year.”

“But I didn't have to tell you today,” Claire said. “I'm proud of you. You're becoming quite a mature young lady.”

Nikki turned away from the sink and looked at her mother's outfit. “
Wow
. You're busting out, Mama.”

“
Busting out
?”

“Like, like, your, your breasts. They're like, like,” she looked closer. “Are they gonna fall out?”

“Oh, yes,” Claire confirmed. “But not till I want them to.”

“
Ugh
!” Nikki said with a sour expression. “I don't want to think about you and Daddy—
Ah
! Now it's in my head!”

“Love is a beautiful thing,” Claire said and wrapped her up for a longer hug this time. “One day you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.”

* * *

At 6:42 p.m. Claire finally heard her man pull into the garage. She lit a candle on the dining table and went to down to meet him. She smiled and licked her lips when they made eye contact.

George Hudgens was definitely the strongest, purest, and most handsome man Claire had ever known. He wasn't in the military anymore, but he still did five hundred push-ups
every day
; usually half in the morning and the other half right before bed. He was a tall man, and he was stout. His torso was like the trunk of a mighty oak. His chest was carved like a sculpture.

He stepped out of his Navigator wearing black slacks with a blue golf shirt tucked in neatly. In one hand he toted the briefcase Claire bought him just a few months ago. In the other arm he cradled a huge vase stuffed with what had to be three dozen roses, some white, some pink. He looked up at Claire as she emerged from the back door and an eager smile lit his face as well.

George was thirty-six years old, like his wife. His skin was the color of a freshly baked croissant. He liked his head shaved completely bald, and Claire liked it like that too. George never allowed any facial stubble to mar his features. He had thick eyebrows and a stern countenance most of the time, but he looked seriously vexed as he eyeballed his woman this evening.

Claire stepped to him and put both arms around his neck. He was one of few men she had to look up to. George's gaze went from her eyes to her cleavage then back again.

“I would marry you all over again. Right now if you wanted,” he said.

Claire grinned and closed her eyes as they kissed. “Same here, soldier. Same here…”

* * *

When they got inside, the kids were eager to spend as much time with their father as possible, but Claire already had a strict schedule in her head, and she aimed to stick to it. She let them read their cards and say how happy they were to have such great parents. She let them
ooh
and
ahh
at her flowers, and she even let them see the nice meal she prepared for their wonderful daddy, but after that they had to go.

When the kids went upstairs, the night took on the romantic aura Claire envisioned. The lobster was succulent, the rice was soft, and the flickering candlelight reminded her of their first anniversary dinner at the Italian Inn, exactly fifteen years ago. They weren't so well-off back then, and Claire's ten-dollar lasagna dinner was nowhere near as tasty as today's lobster, but she loved George just as much now as she did then. Even more so.

After their meal, Claire led her husband to the bedroom for phase two of the evening's festivities. George hadn't seen their wedding video in years. He watched the whole thing on the edge of his seat, totally in awe of the digital work Claire had done on it. When the new commentaries started to play towards the end, George held on to his woman and laughed and almost cried at times.

When it went off, Claire popped in a CD so they could listen to their wedding song. George took her hand and brought her to her feet. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her very close. He buried his face in her neck, and inhaled her scents, and they danced slowly.

They were still rocking quietly long after the CD player went mute.

* * *

At 9:30 Claire left the bedroom to make sure everyone was getting in bed as they should be. No one was getting in bed as they should be. Nikki was on the phone in the den, Stacy was on her computer, and George Jr. was down in the kitchen picking at the leftover lobster.

Claire sneaked up behind him and startled him purposefully. “
Whatchoo doing down here, boy
?”

He jumped, and then cracked a smile when he saw Mommy was happy. “How come we didn't get lobster?” he asked, his lips glistening.

“You're getting lobster tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“No! Now go up there and brush your teeth.” She gave him a soft swat on the heiney to get him going.

“
Hey
!”

She followed him up and was glad to see that everyone was bathed and in their pajamas at least. She shooed them to their respective rooms, but Claire wouldn't retire for the night until they were physically in the bed and under the sheets. She kissed her little goblins goodnight one at a time and thanked them for their good behavior today. She set the sleep timers on the girl's televisions so they could watch one more hour of High School Musical.

“You're still busting out of your dress,” Nikki said when her mother turned off her lights.

“I thought you said you wanted another little brother,” Claire teased.

“
Eww
!” Nikki shrieked. “Get out of here! I'm getting another mental picture!”

Claire left the room laughing.

Her good spirits didn't go away when she got back to the bedroom.

George was in his pajama bottoms only. He sat on the corner of the bed breathing deeply, and Claire knew he'd just finished his push-ups for the night.

Look at my man
, she thought.

George's neck was massive. His traps were swollen like two small hills sitting atop his shoulders. His pectorals were huge and rippling, hard and smooth.

“Come here,” he said. He stared at her like he was hypnotized.

Claire closed the door behind her and stepped to him. She stood between his legs and put her hands on those well-defined traps. George put his hands on her waist then slid them down to her hips. He looked up at her and grinned.

“This is a new dress?”

She nodded. “How do you always know?”

“I never forget anything,” he said. He reached up and touched her breasts delicately, and then he slid his fingers down her stomach. Even after sixteen years, he still had the power to send a tingle down her spine.

“I love the dress,” he said, “but how do you get it off?”

She turned so he could see the zipper running down the back. He reached up for it then stopped himself.

“Wait,” he said. “Turn around.”

She did. George took her hands and looked up at her like he was going to propose again.

“You know, baby, I've loved you since the first time I saw you.”

“When was the first time you saw me?” Claire asked. She knew the story, but it was never a bad time to hear it again.

“I was in detention,” he said with a smirk. “It was after school, and most of the students were already on their way home. Mr. Jensen opened the door 'cause it always got stuffy in his room, and about twelve seconds after he opened it
you
walked by.”

“Twelve seconds?”

“I know it was twelve seconds because I was watching that damned clock,” George said. “But I didn't care about that clock anymore when I saw you.”

Claire put a hand on his cheek and grew a little misty-eyed.

“When he let us go,” George went on, “I ran out there looking for you, but ten minutes had already passed. I couldn't find you anywhere. I must've run around that school three times.”