THE GREAT PRETENDER (2 page)

On the way
back up to her bedroom, Valerie Brooks saw her mother practically running down the stairs, toting her gigantic Donna Karen shoulder bag. “Mom, Ginger Ledford, from across the street, just stopped over to tell us her grandma was rushed to the hospital. She’s having kidney problems.”

Her mother barely stopped to look at her. “What? Oh, that’s awful! We’ll have to go visit her. You’ll have to tell me more about it tomorrow, honey; a friend’s waiting for me at the
Ivory
.” Then, Tracy was through the doorway and Valerie heard the ascension of the electronic garage door.

She must think
we’re stupid
, thought Valerie, heading back upstairs.
As if an idiot wouldn’t know that she was up to something
. Valerie had suspected for quite some time that her mother was involved with another man. She didn’t know who on earth it could be, but she knew there was definitely
somebody
. When she reached the top of the stairs, Valerie walked past her own bedroom and went into her parents’ room.

At seventeen, she had grown into quite a snoop. She was habitually slinking into her parents’ and her older sister Olivia’s bedrooms to dig into their belongings for information. It had become a regular habit of hers since she was about twelve, and a lucrative habit indeed. As a result of her shuffling and digging, Valerie discovered many, many wonderful bits of information.

She knew when Olivia had started her period. She knew when she had gotten involved with her first boyfriend—her first
real
boyfriend. She knew things Olivia would never have told her at the times that they’d happened.

It was this practice that had planted the seed of suspicion about her mother.

Now as she conducted her routine inspection of her parents’ large bathroom, Valerie was convinced that her mom went to see a man. The distinctive fragrance of
Realm
lingered in her mother’s wake, and her favorite lipstick was left opened on the marble vanity table. Valerie shook her head and went down the hallway to her own bedroom.

As she entered her room and closed the door she was thinking,
Damn it…how can I find out who he is
?

“A
rrrrhhhhaaaa!” roared Franklin Bevins as his back slowly arched into a perfect C. Tracy could always drag a deliciously primal roar out of him. She had the sweetest nest he’d ever had—and he’d bedded a few.

Once he recovered, he rolled from her body, slipped off the condom, and went into the bathroom to wash. Frank gazed at himself in the full-length mirror. Thanks to regular workouts, his body was taut in all the right places. He kept his hair well-groomed and visited his barber weekly. Standing six feet tall, his striking features and enigmatic eyes were what most women found utterly irresistible…including Mrs. Tracy Brooks.

When he returned to the bedroom, she was fast asleep. “Bitch,” he muttered to himself. It never failed. She knew he didn’t like her to spend the night, but she didn’t seem to take the hints.
S
he is quite lucky to be Mrs. Reginald Brooks,
he thought. He actually didn’t believe in screwing married women, but Mrs. Brooks here was a major exception. She was
Reginald’s
, and that made all the difference in the world—particularly in light of Reginald’s Orlando “business.”

Franklin quickly went over to the bed and tapped Tracy’s thigh. “Up, up, up. It’s time to go home.” It was already after one in the morning—damned if he’d get any sleep tonight! “Come on, Tracy, get up…and from now on, if you can’t make it before ten, just stay home. I can’t afford to go to sleep at one-thirty in the morning when I’m up at five.”

Once dressed, Tracy wiped sleep from her eyes, found her purse, and walked to the door. “You know I have to wait for Reggie to call at night. I can’t risk him becoming suspicious if I’m not home at that hour.”

Lying in the bed, Frank tugged at the sheets and turned his back. “I need to get to sleep.”

Tracy stared at Frank’s form under the covers. When had he begun to treat her like some common whore from a brothel? And why?

Unbeknownst to Franklin, she’d grown to value this relationship far more than she let on.

She opened the door. But just before it slammed, she threw over her shoulder, “Watch it, Frank. One of these days, I may not come back at all.”

But they both knew she would.

The following evening
, Reginald landed in Miami just as the heavy rain began to fall. He was exhausted. The years were definitely not being kind to him. In fact, they had practically been mean. Between Renee and Tracy, he wasn’t sure whom he wanted to find out about what first. For the past few months, he’d actually been thinking of coming clean—of telling both women the other existed.

Could he do it?

He’d always thought he never would, but somehow, more and more with each passing month, he desperately wanted to…Hell, it felt like he
needed
to. The compounding lies, the covering up, had created a wall that blocked him from the prospects of happiness. Reggie didn’t know how much longer he could continue to successfully hold everything together—and the threat was frightening.

As he made his way to the airstrip’s parking lot for his Lincoln Navigator, he made yet another attempt to pinpoint the catalyst for his unhappiness. When exactly did this begin?

I’m unraveling
.

No one would believe it. Not Reginald Brooks. Not the man who always had everything under control. And he’d
always
kept things
under control.

Neither woman had ever suspected a thing. But many a night had passed when he lay in bed with one, and scenes would play themselves out in his mind about how she would react if she knew the truth.

This
has to end
, he thought as he dodged a puddle. He was not fully conscious of it, but a decision had been made.

Reggie drove home, feeling the weight of the lives on his shoulders.

Once he was
in the house, he went straight up to his bedroom, dropped everything, and stretched out on the bed.

He would try sleeping off the melancholy mood. But he knew it wouldn’t work. When he awoke, he would still have a knot in his chest.

Deep down, Reginald Brooks knew the end was near. He himself would ultimately bring everything crashing down around both families.

Olivia Brooks was
also
depressed.

The moment she turned her Toyota Camry into the driveway and realized her father was home, she cringed.

At twenty-one, Olivia was a very sharp, perceptive young woman. As such, she knew that there was more going on with her father than
other people
knew. He was always guarded—maybe even surreptitious—and she’d noticed it for years. Her father’s presence always made her uncomfortable, and she found it especially taxing to be around him when he returned from Orlando.

Now as she opened the garage door, Olivia prepared to have his presence in the house.
Oh, boy
, she thought.
Here we go…

But t
o her surprise, neither her father nor anyone else was anywhere in sight.

Good
.
I get to go straight to my room
.

When Reginald awoke
, he could hear water running in the bathroom. He smiled as he rolled over and stretched his powerfully built body to its full height.

Tracy was home.

He left the bed and went into the bathroom to find his wife bent over the tub. She was drawing a bath. Saying nothing, he walked up close and wrapped his arms around her.

His palms settled over her breasts.

Tracy had heard Reginald enter the bathroom, and she mentally prepared herself for his attentions. She only wished she’d had time to do so physically. They were going to make love, and she was already tender from an encounter with Frank that afternoon. She knew it was foolish to see him on the very day Reginald was due back, but when Franklin was determined, he was difficult to resist.

“You’re home?” she said.

“Yeah,” replied Reginald. “Do you remember what I told you last night?”

“Of course I remember, babe.” Tracy kept her back to him but smiled in spite of herself. “Has it been like Chinese algebra all this time?”

Reggie chuckled. He pressed against her. “What do you think?”

They made love in the large roman tub.

Afterward, they showered, and Tracy wanted to faint. She ached beyond belief. She vowed to glue her legs together for a solid month.

Later, when Reginald went downstairs to the kitchen for food, she lay on the bed and phoned Frank to set up their next interlude. She was disappointed when she got his voice mail…

Downstairs, as she
slipped a plate into the microwave, Olivia smelled her father enter the kitchen. He never wore anything that wasn’t made by
Escada
, and for that, there wasn’t a scent in the world she recognized more.

“Hey, Liv, what’s up?” Reginald tapped her shoulder.

“Nothing much,” she replied. She set the microwave for a minute and a half and then turned. “How long have you been home?”

“Not long—a few hours. I was beat…I was practically asleep before I hit the bed.”

Olivia crossed her arms. She willed the microwave to heat faster.

“What’s for dinner?” asked Reggie, glancing at the stovetop.

“Leftover salmon.” She rubbed her palms on her sleeves and gazed at nothing in particular…Their kitchen’s wallpaper was nice…The copper pots that hung over the island were very…copper. Olivia faced the microwave again.

“You won’t believe what I managed to pull off,” said Reginald, checking out the saucepan of salmon. “I can hardly believe it myself, and I haven’t even said anything to your mother yet, but after this next trip to Orlando, I’m going back to my old schedule. I know I’ve been saying it for years, but the time has come…And the first thing I’d like us to do is plan a vacation! We all really need to spend some time together. It’s long overdue.”

Olivia avoided eye contact. “What was your old schedule? I don’t remember anything but this.”

“Well, I fly up once or twice a month for meetings and for oversight, and that’s only for a night or two each time. It’ll be rare that I’ll need to stay any longer than that. It’s going to be wonderful. We can make big plans…I figure we can take a long vacation to spend solid family time together.” Reggie spooned some rice. “You know, catch up on lost times.”

How can you make up for ten whole years of “lost times”
? Olivia thought.

“Well, Dad, I have a lot of things to get done in the next few weeks. You know, with school and all.”

“Oh, hold on there, Olivia. Are you telling me that you won’t be able to find two minutes to spend with your family? We haven’t really been able to spend much time together—me, you and Valerie—in years. You’ve got to make the time, Liv. You can always do some homework and studying on vacation if need be.”

“I don’t know, Dad. I’m seriously busy. I have quite a few projects to do, and I have to spend a lot of time at the library doing research. I just won’t have the time. You should be able to understand, right?” With that, she took her plate from the microwave and left the kitchen.

Reginald watched her go. As usual, he almost called her back, wanting to have it out with her, but he was afraid to. He feared the litany of accusations that may come out of her mouth if he broached the subject of her attitude toward him. He knew why Olivia avoided him.

Up until now, Reggie had resigned to leaving things the way they were, to accept the change in Olivia. What was the use of trying to make things better when one day they could easily become so much worse?

He looked out the kitchen window and noticed that the rain was still coming down in sheets. The weather mirrored his mood…

He needed to see Franklin. He needed to unload some of this on him, bounce his plans off his number one confederate.