The Perfect Affair (19 page)

J
acqueline removed her oversized, Jackie Onassis–inspired shades. She was as cool as a winter breeze, dressed in a simple yellow halter-dress and Lanvin ballet flats. No one in the world, especially Blair, would believe that this same woman had arrived on this doorstep as a tackily dressed cleaning woman just two days ago. “Hello, Sherri. May I come in?”

Sherri stepped out onto her front porch and closed the door behind her. “Absolutely not.” She looked across the street and noticed a neighbor walking his dog and another one driving by, waving as she passed. Sherri waved back, and used the same smile she’d pasted on for the sake of that driver to keep herself from punching Jacqueline straight in the mouth. But she loved this neighborhood and had no plans to move. Holding in the rage might cause a heart attack or stroke, but she would not give this woman the satisfaction of making a scene. “How did you get through our security gates?”

“The same way I got into your husband’s bed,” Jacqueline replied, casually inspecting her nails before looking at Sherri. “Determination.”

Resisting the urge to curse, Sherri walked over to the seating area hidden from the street by an ivy-covered lattice. “Is that so?” she asked, as she sat and inspected her nails as well. Inside her head, however, were visions of Jacqueline’s head meeting pavement as Sherri dragged her from the porch to her car . . . by her feet.

Jacqueline joined Sherri in the sitting area. “Sherri, I came here in hopes that we could talk peacefully, sensibly, woman to woman. I don’t know you, and wish you nothing but the best. Honestly, I do. I believe you love Randall and the idea of a picture-perfect family. But life happens, and when it does, we have to adjust. Randall and I didn’t mean to fall in love with each other . . . but we did.”

Sherri turned so that she was facing Jacqueline directly. “You seem like a smart girl, so there are a few things I’m going to tell you. But I want you to listen carefully because I’ll only say them once. If you ever get up the nerve to ring my doorbell again . . . we won’t be talking.” She ignored the smirk on Jacqueline’s face and continued. “Randall and I have been married for over a decade, in fact, almost fifteen years. We are not only spouses, but best friends. There are no secrets between us.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I knew about you from the beginning, Jacqueline, when you set up the interview in LA. I know about the romantic dinner, the subsequent coincidental meetings in various hotels, and how you tried to incite suspicion by showing up at the door to our Vegas suite. None of this has been spontaneous, in my opinion. No, you planned this shit.

“I’ll admit it.The scent of perfume that wasn’t mine almost got me out of character. Almost, but not quite. I trust my husband.

“Randall was right about one thing. You are beautiful. But from your recent actions, including being on my porch right now, it’s obvious that you’re not too smart.” Sherri stood. “I’m going to go inside my house and call the police. Shortly after that, I’ll be heading to the police station with a copy of your picture and a request for a restraining order. I will also alert our homeowners association and the guards at the gate about the trespasser who somehow got past them and on to my street. And I’ll make sure that they keep the surveillance footage of your entrance, just like I’ll keep the footage captured by our
personal
security cameras of you on my porch right now.” Sherri nodded toward a camera discreetly tucked between two beams. “Now, get off my porch and out of our lives. Use your assets to get your own man, and stop this foolish, impossible attempt at trying to take mine.”

It had taken all Sherri had to remain calm, but Jacqueline’s smug look had her anger rising to the boiling point. She knew if she didn’t get away from this woman soon, things were going to get ugly.

“Goodbye, Jacqueline.” She turned and walked toward the door.

Jacqueline stood and walked to the steps. “Sherri,” she said, turning back after taking the first step down. “Since Randall tells you everything, will you let me know when he tells you where he found my panties? Albany came home early from her day trip with Lauren and I had to, uh, leave in a hurry. It was quite the romp we had in your bed. You know how insatiable he can be. I was wearing them when I came here. But not when I left. So they’ve got to be somewhere around that gorgeous, mahogany, custom-made four-poster.”

She took two more steps and turned once more. “Those TempurPedic mattresses really are amazing.” With a flip of her hair over her shoulder, she bounced down the steps.

Sherri followed, ready to go with this nervy heifah for fifteen rounds.

“Hey, Mom!”

The sound of Aaron’s voice stopped her. She turned to see him walking toward her from the opposite direction of where Jacqueline now fled. His best friend, Hunter, rode a skateboard alongside him. She tried and failed to put a smile on her face.

“See you later, Aaron,” Hunter said, once they’d reached the Atwater sidewalk.

“All right, man.” Aaron fell into step beside his mother as they neared the porch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She opened the door and walked in, then held it so that Aaron could follow.

“Who was that woman?”

Darn it. He saw her.
Sherri had been so hoping that he hadn’t. “Nobody important.”

“Looks like y’all were arguing.”

“Well, we weren’t! Okay?!” Immediately regretting her outburst, Sherri took yet another calming breath. “Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“About what?”

“Not now, Aaron. I’m not in the mood!”

“All right. Geez.” Aaron walked toward the kitchen and Sherri headed for the privacy of the master suite.

Once inside, she closed the door and reached for the home phone. “Girl, I’m so glad you answered,” she said to Renee, “because I need to ask you a serious question.”

“Sure, anything,” Renee replied.

“If anything happens to me, will you raise my children?”

“Oh my God, Sherri, why would you ask me that?”

“Because I can’t raise them from prison, and if that witch Jacqueline shows up at my front door again, that’s exactly where I’ll be.”

 

Randall pulled into the garage and turned off the engine. His hands stayed on the wheel, clutching it tightly. He was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened, and how what he thought was a casual friendship had turned into Jacqueline acting like a love-starved fool! And coming to his office without his knowledge or permission, on the pretext of picking up papers?
For what?
This knowledge, after what she had pulled in Vegas, left him with a very bad feeling. The office.
Wait, she was there that day, right before I fell asleep. Could she have . . . ? No, I don’t think so. That notion is too far out, even for her
.
He sat there, rigid, as questions continued to plague him. Why had she gone back to the office? What was she looking for? What did she want? “James warned me about her,” he mumbled, reaching for his briefcase and iPad case. “I should have listened.”

He entered his home through a hallway that led from the garage to the kitchen. The first thing he noticed was that it was quiet. Too quiet for a weeknight at the Atwater house.The second thing he noticed was that there was no food on the stove-top, no delicious smells wafting up to tickle his nostrils and tantalize his senses. Given the events of the day, the bad feeling in his gut worsened. “Sherri.”

Loosening his tie after placing his briefcase and iPad on a table in the hallway, he mounted the stairs. “Baby, where are you?” He entered their room. Sherri was standing near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, foot impatiently tapping the floor.

Her demeanor stopped him cold. “Baby, what’s wrong?” “Don’t.” She held up her hands, as if blocking his words from reaching her body. “Don’t even stand there trying to look as if you don’t know what’s wrong.”

“How’d you find out?” Randall was genuinely confused as to how Sherri could know about Jacqueline’s visit to the office.

“How do you think I found out? She came over here, Randall. That woman had the nerve to bring her ass to my house!”

“How in the hell does she know where we live?”

“You tell me. And while you’re at it, tell me how she knows the style of our bed and the type of mattress.”

“S
herri,” Randall began in a pleading voice as he walked toward his wife. He stopped a couple feet away from her, dissuaded from going any further by her frown as much as anything else. “I swear to God, I don’t know what’s going on here. A week ago I saw her in Chicago and she was cordial but professional, and then we got to Las Vegas where she acted like she’d lost her damn mind!”

“People don’t just ‘go crazy’ all of a sudden,” Sherri replied, using air quotes for emphasis. “And you still haven’t answered how that woman knows the style of our bed.”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“Have you brought her to this house, Randall?”

“Of course not!”

“Have you slept with her?”

“No, Sherri, I told you that there was nothing going on with her and me.”

“You’ve told me a lot of things: that you had dinner in LA,” she began, counting on her fingers. “That she interviewed you in your suite, instead of the restaurant or the lobby or anywhere a man with an ounce of sense would have conducted it. That you went to a Broadway play together.”

“There was supposed to be a group of us. The others didn’t show up.”

“How convenient.” She sounded anything but convinced. “You’re spending time with a woman who’s obviously enamored of you, and then acting surprised that she got caught up!”

Randall walked over to the bed and wearily sat down. “I admit that we flirted around, but you know that about me, babe. I may toss a compliment out or give a wink, but it’s never more than that. Yes, all of what you just pointed out is true. I did all of those things. But I wish you could have been there to see the innocence of those meetings. Even while we were together in the suite’s
living room
. . . nothing happened. We sat in two chairs with a table between us. Once the interview was over, she left the room. And never came back—in any city, at any time.”

“And you didn’t go to her room?”

“Sherri . . .”

“Look. Don’t get mad at me because I’m asking questions. It’s because of something you did that we’re in this mess.”

“That’s just it. I haven’t done anything.”

Sherri shook her head, walking to the door. “Well, I guess if that’s true, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Still angry, Sherri went downstairs to find Blair. She found her doing homework at the breakfast nook. She sat down. “Blair, I need to ask you something.”

“Sure, Sherri.” Blair put down her book.

“Did anyone come by here while Randall and I were gone?”

Blair thought for a moment. “No, no one except the delivery guys. We ordered takeout both nights, as you suggested.”

“The people who delivered the food were guys?” Blair nodded, so Sherri asked, “And no one else that you know of came in the house?”

“Uh-uh. Oh, wait, except the housekeeper.”

“That’s not unusual. Lucia comes here every week.”

“It wasn’t Lucia.”

Sherri’s head shot up. “It wasn’t? Then who was it?”

“A substitute named Ruth. Lucia was sick.”

Sherri tried to remain calm as she reached for Blair’s iPad. “Can I see this for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Sherri went to a search engine and typed in a name. She clicked on images and soon saw the face that she’d wanted to slap just hours ago. She turned the iPad around. “Is this her?”

“Who?”

“The woman who came to clean the house.”

Blair burst out laughing but quit as soon as she caught Sherri’s unsmiling face. “I’m sorry for laughing, Sherri, but, no. Ruth looked nothing like this woman. This woman is gorgeous!”

Gritting her teeth, Sherri ignored the comment. “What did Ruth look like?”

“She was really plain: short hair, no makeup, glasses and really stained teeth. Oh, and she had an accent. She’s from Belize.”

Sherri exhaled, but her relief was short-lived. If Jacqueline hadn’t sneaked into the home unnoticed, how did she know theirs was a four-poster bed? A lucky guess? That was a possibility, but one that Sherri found highly doubtful. Randall swore he’d never sexed her. For now, she believed her husband. But where there was smoke, there was fire, and Sherri vowed to herself to not stop digging until she found the source of the flame.

 

Jacqueline stood back and admired her handiwork. All those years watching Phillip fiddle with computer hardware and software, and the recent crash courses with his partner, Marco, had definitely paid off. Setting up the network had been easier than she thought, especially since, not wanting anyone privy to her actions, she decided to tackle the installation alone. Now seven screens sat glowing before her, showing all of the key areas of the Atwater house. She’d just overheard Randall and Sherri’s heated exchange. When Sherri disappeared from the bedroom camera and reappeared in the kitchen, Jacqueline reached for another knob and turned up the volume. She listened intently.

When Sherri’s conversation went from questions about the cleaning lady to the next day’s activities, Jacqueline relaxed. “You’re so stupid,” she spat at the TV screen. “So easy to manipulate. Anybody with an ounce of intellect would have called the cleaning company, confirmed the substitution. That’s why this stuff is so easy.” She continued to mutter as she turned her attention back to the screen where the Atwater master suite was displayed. “All it took was a phone call and five hundred dollars and I was able to stop good old Lucia at the community gate.”

She watched Randall pace from one side of the room to the other, stopping at various points while deep in thought.

“Are you thinking about me, baby?” Jacqueline asked, her fingers searching for and finding nipples that she slowly rubbed into hardened peaks. “I bet you are. I’m thinking about you too. I know you miss me. And the very next time I get the chance to see you, I’m sure you’ll show me just how much.”