Naughtier than Nice (9 page)

After leaving Frankie's home, she needed to decompress. She needed to destress.

Olivia McBroom-Barrera was dressed in a lipstick-red, deep-V bow-tied backless party mini, one of those skintight numbers that she couldn't put on without inhaling. It molded to the shape of her body as if it were a new layer of designer epidermis. Drink in hand, she glanced down at her Lucite and leather T-strap Manolo Blahniks. Those shoes were an emotional favorite. She inhaled and her mind retrieved the sight, sound, smell, feel, and taste of so many memories. She inhaled and loved the scent of the new perfume on her skin. Hair light brown with highlights, down over her shoulders, now shaven on the right side. Silver jewelry. Men stole glances at her as if she were a queen sitting in the nude. Tipsy. She was at Bar Nineteen 12 in the Beverly Hills Hotel. Swank. Comfy chairs. Sofas. A DJ was in the back playing house. The bar was private, exclusive, but very chill, very elegant. Expensive. Food cost about forty dollars a bite. Her husband, Antonio, was next to her, his hand in hers. She leaned over and kissed him. Then they sat back, cuddled, and watched the pretentious party.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“I bet that table of women with fake faces will spend over five thousand on drinks.”

“Nine hundred dollars a glass. They'll spend ten thousand before the night ends.”

Her cellular buzzed. She looked down and saw a message from her sister Tommie.

Just showered. Checked on Frankie. Checking to make sure you made it home.

Tell Blue g'night. Tell Monica her favorite auntie said g'night.

Livvy put her Samsung away, slid it back inside her clutch, smiling, thinking about her sister Tommie and her great love affair with her fiancé, Blue. Tommie had returned to university, obtained her degree, all while running a household, working, blogging, and being a mother in training. It was an enviable relationship. Her baby sister had grown into being a responsible woman, and one day soon the wedding bells would ring. Maybe Tommie would be the first McBroom to have a child. Livvy had wanted to have a baby a decade ago, but now she wasn't so sure. Just then she saw Tony's attention was fixed somewhere else, on someone else, on a beautiful Indian woman who bore a resemblance to the actress Mindy Kaling. Deep brown skin, curvy. Designer clothing. Well put together. She sat at the bar alone. A moment later a tall European man, a Brad Pitt, entered the bar, went to her, kissed her.

Livvy nudged Tony. “Mind paying attention to the sexy bitch sitting next to you?”

“You were distracted. Was that work?”

She removed her phone from her clutch, let him read the exchange, satisfied his jealousy, then kissed him gently. He kissed her neck, sucked her lip, spoke to her in Spanish. She sucked his tongue, spoke to him in Spanish; they made out like newlyweds. Married ten years. Not easy years at all.

She remembered how her marriage had been from the start. Tony kissed her and she remembered the night she first met him. It was at a Halloween party. She was twenty-two, young, naive,
insecure, and arrogant. It had been a random meeting at a costume party in Ladera Heights. He was dressed as Dracula. She was the devil in a bustier, leather pants, and six-inch heels. They had slow danced. He had kissed her just like this, with passion that came from his soul.

When the kiss ended, there was a change.

She saw her husband glance at another woman at the end of the bar. High-end little black dress paired with expensive pink suede ankle boots with metallic gold accents. The heels were by Miu Miu. The woman was alone in a bar where sexiness and the need to play with strangers hovered in the air the way smog did over Los Angeles. The woman yielded a furtive glance, then a flirtatious smile, before she turned away. She sipped her drink and toyed with her necklace, legs bouncing with hidden urges, and she looked at Tony again. She twirled her long black hair. She was seeking a man, but she was sitting at the bar, buying her own drink, for now, maybe to keep a well-dressed stranger from slipping her Rohypnol. There were a lot of misogynistic and opportunistic assholes in Los Angeles, vile men waiting to slip a woman whatever was the latest Mickey Finn, so a woman partying alone had to be careful from which fountain she drank.

Olivia felt that the woman wished that Tony were here alone. The flirty woman couldn't sit still, couldn't stop staring, was restless. Tony couldn't stop stealing glances either. Olivia was a woman and a woman knew the desires of other women. Olivia said nothing about Tony and his wandering eyes.

Tony traced his finger up and down her thigh as he asked, “Livvy, did you ever see him again?”

“Did I ever see who again, Tony?”

“The mystery guy you had your little affair with.”

“He doesn't contact me, never has since it ended, if that's what you're worried about.”

“If he walked in and shook my hand, I'd never know it was him.”

“Your indiscretion changed me. How it was presented. The shock of it. How I was demeaned.”

“You're changing the subject.”

“The subject has never changed, Tony. It's been the same subject since it happened.”

“What do we have to do to get past that?”

“I don't know. I'm trying. I really am trying.”

“He changed you from the nice Olivia Lynette McBroom I married to the naughty woman you are now. It's not the sex. It was the change. It was a change no one has seen, only me, behind closed doors.”

“It was an awakening, both from him and from you.”

“And now you've modified and funkafied your hair. Like a sudden makeover. Women do that to announce a change.”

“Is this about my hair? My side-shaved, swept-to-the-side funky hairstyle too much for you? We can get you a Mohawk.”

“It looks too damn sexy. That hair and that hot dress make you look seven years younger. Every man here watched your ass as you walked by like they were following a bouncing ball to keep up with the rhythm of a love song.”

“I have a nice ass.”

“That nice ass is married to me.”

“You can't stop people from looking.”

“Well, I don't like it when you smile back at them.”

“It's for you, Tony. Tonight, this is for you.”

“Tonight?”

“Tomorrow will be a brand-new day.”

They sipped their drinks. Livvy thought about her mother. She thought about when the widow Mrs. Wimberley met Mr. McBroom and married. She thought about the type of love her mother had had, the type found in romance books. Then she thought about her own marriage, what it had become.

Heavy in heart but light in tone, Livvy asked her husband, “Did you enjoy Paris?”

“I'd never seen that side of you before.”

She said, “Everything changes. People change in time. Or when traumatized.”

“Are you comfortable here? Should we go back to marriage counseling?”

“It's not ideal, but I'm not uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable for a long time. Was hard to make love to you for a long time. It's better now. Everyone goes through something that changes them forever.”

Olivia glanced at the girl at the end of the bar. The eye contact, the blatant rousing of sexual interest, the repeated stolen glances, the way she sat with her back straight due to being excited, the way she positioned herself so she could continue watching Tony from the corner of her eye, the smile whenever Tony smiled in her direction, the blush that came after—Livvy watched every response, even noticed when Tony tried not to look that way too long to keep from coming off as being perverted.

It was like Morse code, as if sensual messages were being sent back and forth.

Same as it had happened in Paris. Just like it had happened in Canada.

Olivia said, “The way the two of you are carrying on right in front of me, this is insulting.”

Tony sipped his drink. “What are you talking about?”

The girl had been admiring Tony too long.

Livvy put her Hardy Perfection cognac sidecar down.

She stood, adjusted her dress, pursed her lips.

Livvy stared across the room at her rival.

Livvy picked up her drink again, frowned as she began her well-paced sashay directly toward the overly flirty, svelte Asian woman sitting at the bar.

Livvy knew the woman saw her coming across the room, could tell by the way she adjusted herself on her bar stool, turned her back to Livvy and Tony, then raised her drink and sipped.

Olivia stood next to the woman, stared at her drink. Crème de la crème slurper, served in a Waterford crystal goblet, made with Bacardi Reserva Limitada, D'Ussé VSOP cognac, Neveux Artisan Creamery organic honey, English lavender, split-bean Tahitian vanilla ice cream, and Ghirardelli chocolate caramel fudge, garnished with edible gold flakes and a Swarovski Nirvana Montana blue-crystal ring, accompanied with a selection of truffles on a sterling silver truffle tree. Olivia hadn't had one of those since Paris. The drink was beautiful, sexy. If a man tasted that good, she would stay intoxicated. The woman shifted in her discomfort, faced Olivia. She leaned away and gave uneasy eye contact.

The Asian woman was at least six feet tall in her bare feet, with long, sexy legs. She wore five-inch heels. Her body was toned like she was Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolyta. Olivia was five foot five and wore five-inch heels, still no match for the woman's height.

In a hard, unpleasant tone, Olivia said, “Happy New Year.”

The woman evaluated Olivia from head to breasts, then from breasts to her shoes, then asked, “Is there a problem?”

Olivia posted up and evaluated the woman the same way, maintained eye contact, counted to five, then reached and took one of the woman's truffles, bit into it, chewed, then said, “You tell me. Is there a problem? Am I in the way tonight?”

“You're American.”

“Did you expect my husband to show up alone?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Are you his mistress? Is this a game you're playing?”

“I am afraid I must invite you to leave my space immediately.”

Olivia wasn't afraid.

She had played basketball, and most of her opponents had been taller. She had had to prove herself and go up against many women and many men since she'd been born. Same for Tommie and Frankie. The entire McBroom family had had to fight many outsiders to gain their respect.

Olivia took another truffle and gave her a daring glare.

The woman said, “That was rude. Have I unintentionally done something to offend you?”

“You were staring at my husband. That was rude. You've admired him the last twenty minutes.”

“I'm sorry, but I felt him undressing me with his eyes.”

“He was.”

“I'm flattered.”

“Do you want to meet?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Is he your fantasy? Are you looking for an adventure?”

“Are you asking me if I want to meet your husband?”

“If you want company, my husband and I would love for you to join us and share a drink.”

“This is an unexpected twist.”

“Why did you think I came over here, if not for that?”

“I assumed I'd committed lèse-majesté, if that is the mot juste, and you'd left your king and your slice of sovereign land and come to throw your drink in my bloody face. You looked very angry.”

“Not angry. Since you're eye-banging him, in my face, then looking at me, sizing me up as well, I wanted to extend the proper invitation to sit with us, come meet us, have a drink, make new friends.”

“You're beautiful as well. He's a lucky man. You're lucky to have a man who loves you like that.”

“Thank you. You're in a crowded bar and don't seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“This pretentious place is interesting. It's like you either belong here or they look down their noses at you and shake their heads and roll their bloody eyes. Everyone is obsessed with their modified looks. So much Botox. I am out of my element. With her maturity, I doubt if Julia Roberts would get noticed here in Miley Cyrus–ville. But the hostesses are rude, and that makes me feel like I'm at home in the UK.”

“Love your accent. Your dry humor is cute.”

“If only I could have majored in sarcasm at university.”

“You're British?”

“I'm Chinese with a little Japanese in my blood. Born in Wales. Grew up in Aberystwyth. Lived in Cardiff and Swansea as well. Went to university in Bangor. Wales is in England to the west. Irish Sea to the north. You hear Wales in every syllable I speak, and that makes it hard for Americans to understand me. The bloody accents here are horrific. I understand the words separately, but put together they make no sense. Women make all statements sound like questions. I am in a room of inebriated caricatures.”

“Waiting on someone? I should have asked you that before offering our company.”

She bit into a truffle. “No. I am traveling alone. My first time to the United States.”

“You're staring at me again.”

“I'm amazed by your skin. Not a single blemish. It's like staring at a pretty doll's face.”

“Thank you. I'm in skin care. Have my own business.”

“Impressive. One look at you and I'll bet the clients are banging at the door each morning.”

“My husband, he's a well-respected doctor.”

“You're really husband and wife?”

Olivia sipped her exotic drink, bit into her sensual chocolate truffle. “Married ten years.”

“You've survived the seven-year itch.”

“What's your occupation?”

“I'm also a doctor.”

“Really? Where?”

“At London Bridge Hospital.”

“Your area?”

“Cardiology and cardiac electrophysiology.”

“That's impressive, but you're in a part of the world where few actually have a heart.”

“So it seems. They are killing children in Gaza, but here, every dull conversation in this bar is about fantasizing about being a movie star. Everyone here loves to talk about themselves. They're dropping so many names ten street sweepers will have to work overtime to clean up afterward. I'm becoming underwhelmed by the arrogance, sense of superiority, self-importance, and entitlement.”

“What brings you to Sunset Boulevard?”

“Here on what I guess I would classify as a last-minute holiday from London.”

“Here to take advantage of the weak dollar and the men's weakness for Asian women.”

She smiled. “Since there is no visa required for entry, and I didn't fancy returning to Anguilla, Barbados, or Turks and Caicos—not this time—I decided to take an eleven-hour flight from Heathrow to LAX and see this part of the world. Other than on television and in movies, I had never seen up close what the former Brits in this part of the world did after they defected from the UK. So far, not impressed. Horrible architecture. Compared to Paris, everything looks like it was designed by a two-year-old.”

“I sense a heartbreak. Am I wrong?”

“I found myself suddenly single and decided I needed to get away from everything familiar.”

Olivia whispered, “Are you a woman betrayed? Have you been cheated on?”

“I have been cheated on. I found out he had a mistress and an outside child. Had to escape. And now I am a heart specialist who has a broken heart that she has no idea how to fix. Oh, the irony.”

“I had to escape once upon a time. It was the worst yet most intoxicating time of my life.”

“How do I go from this being the worst era of my bloody life to its also being the most exciting?”

Livvy said, “And where are my manners? We never properly introduced ourselves.”

“My name is Ashley Li.”

“I'm Olivia.”

“
Olivia
is Latin, means a symbol of peace. I need peace. Maybe this is a positive sign.”

“I know you. You're a beautiful bird who's lost her wings.”

Ashley Li sipped her drink. “What is your husband's name?”

“Antonio Barrera.”

“He's Latin. Antonio. In his language his name means ‘beyond praise.' ‘Highly praiseworthy.'”

“And what does your name mean?”

“
Ashley
normally means ‘one who lives in the ash tree grove,' but tonight, as I sit in a classy bar in Beverly Hills and finish my second Velvet Goldmine, an amazing drink that costs five hundred American dollars, my name means ‘woman from Wales who came to North America in need of peace and praise.'”

“Trust me and my husband with your wounded heart tonight; you can have peace and praise.”

“To be honest, I'm not into anything like that. To be honest again, I've never done anything like this. I've never gone to a fancy
pub
like this hoping for . . . whatever usually happens at fancy pubs like this to happen to me.”

“You're hoping someone sees your long legs, your sweet hairstyle, realizes you're wearing fuck-me boots because you crave a wicked night to take away the angst inside, to give you the acceptance you desire, to praise you the way you deserve and make you come the night away so you can forget the asshole who has done you wrong. You want to escape that memory and get away from everything negative you left on the other side of the pond. You're sitting here drinking your liquid courage, and if someone doesn't make a move, you will get the nerve to because you want to get laid for the sake of getting laid, for the sake of making a statement to yourself, and because you refuse to sleep alone because now you know the man you loved was off fucking some other woman while you worked your ass off. He made a fool of you. He humiliated you. You know what you need. You know what you want.”

Her breath caught in her chest, and her voice softened. “Yes. I wanted that, all of that, tonight.”

“Then I will leave you to your chances. I'm sorry to hear about your heartbreak, and I do hope that you enjoy your night and find peace during your stay here in the Americas. I'll go back to my husband.”

“Wait, Olivia.”

“Olivia Barrera. People call me Livvy. Shall we part ways now?”

“Don't leave so bloody soon, Livvy, unless the offer you were extending was rubbish.”

“You're not ready for this level of entertainment.”

“Let the alcohol take hold and I will be ready for anything that doesn't include a pokey or a cheese-eating surrender monkey. I don't want to just say yes like I've lost the plot or I'm a slag. I am a lady.”

“Tell me what you want, the pace you prefer, and I will try to make it happen.”

“I don't want to spend the evening sitting in a bloody American bar tipsy and alone.”

“If you fancy company, lounge with us. We can chill, drink, and chat. You and Antonio are both doctors. He's a vascular surgeon, so both of you are intellectuals and in fields that are highly regarded and respected. I can see that you're professional and girly with a love for fine drinks and expensive shoes. I feel your pain, so I'm sure a particular type of friendship with us will be very easy.”

She laughed. “God, if I keep staring at you I think I will develop my first girl crush.”

“It's the alcohol. That's why wannabe starlets are in the bathroom doing lines and making out.”

“When a woman is betrayed by a man, when she becomes the cuckquean, sometimes she feels more comfortable around a woman. It will be impossible for me to trust another man for a long time.”

“When I was where you are, it was a hard choice, but I preferred to make him the cuckolded too. I refused to stand in the arena of cuckoldry alone. He had secrets, so I created another life for a while.”

“Does he know?”

“He knows some. Not the guy's name. Has no idea where we met to have our sexual encounters. He knows enough to make him jealous, enough to lose sleep at night over not being satisfied with the incompleteness of my answers to his questions. Enough to not take me for granted anymore.”

Olivia put her nails on Ashley 's skin, moved them up and down, slowly scratching an invisible itch. Ashley Li closed her eyes and moaned. A moment later she opened her eyes, evaluated Olivia, then reached to her, touched her face, her perfect skin, wiped a bit of chocolate from the corner of her lip, then put her finger inside her own mouth, tasted chocolate, hummed like the flavor was new and exhilarating.

Olivia said, “Say yes and walk from here to there. Or say no and I'll walk alone.”

“I'm but one word away. One word and about six meters away from being naughty, or a two-letter word away from being alone tonight, in America, with thoughts of an unworthy man across the pond.”

As an old lover had once murmured to her, Olivia whispered to Ashley, “Yes or no, baby?”

“I've never done a threesome. I've been interested but never have.”

“So you're interested?”

“I've been interested from the start, just too nervous to get up from this bloody bar stool. I have to remind myself that I am far away from my family, from my sisters and brothers, from my colleagues.”

“No one will know but us. We're professionals and have the same concerns with discretion. I have sisters, two sisters, and family, so I understand the powerful need to keep parts of our lives private.”

“I will need another drink.”

“No problem.”

“Tonight I can stop being the doctor.”

“You're on holiday. Make it a holiday to remember.”

“I can also stop being the boring, well-behaved daughter.”

“Let us welcome Union Jack to the land of Old Glory red, white, and blue.”

“Yes, Olivia Barrera. Yes. My answer is yes.”

Ashley Li gathered her clutch, adjusted her form-fitting dress, signed off on her drinks, then winked and waved good-bye to the gay bartender. Ashley stood up. So tall. Towered over Olivia. Livvy adjusted her red dress, one that kept easing up toward her waist; gauged her level of tipsiness; and walked next to Ashley, taking slow steps by Hollywood-heads chatting. They navigated through the crowd. Livvy guided the tall Asian woman with the Welsh accent toward her smiling husband.