The Perfect Affair (23 page)

“L
et’s go, kids!” Sherri stood in the mudroom of her home, happier than she’d felt in a while. The time she and Randall had enjoyed the night before had been just what they needed. A year ago, if someone had told her that this time in her life would be more topsy-turvy than a theme-park roller coaster, she would have begged to differ. But the truth of the matter was her life had never been more chaotic. She hadn’t been totally satisfied with her prior humdrum existence, but she definitely wanted to get off of this crazy merry-go-round. Today, for the first time since she’d heard the name Jacqueline Tate, she felt hopeful for her marriage, her family, her future.

She laughed as she heard Albany and Aaron bounding down the stairs. “I beat you!” Aaron said with his usual competitive exuberance. “Get back, girl, and watch how an expert operates!”

“I’ll watch how you—”

“That’s enough!” Sherri interrupted, laughter punctuating her words. The children’s bickering was just another sign of the household’s return to normalcy, and she was determined to milk it for all it was worth. “If y’all don’t straighten up, I’m going to tell your father.”

“Ooh,” was the stereo sound delivered by daughter and son.

“Yeah, y’all act like you’re scared, but if I discuss the possibility of relieving you of your allowance . . .”

“Uh, okay, Mom, let’s talk about this,” Aaron said, as diplomatically as if he were running for office.

“Mom, we wouldn’t want to bother Dad with such trivialities,” Albany added. “He works too hard for us to get him upset.”

As the children preceded her into the garage, Sherri locked the door and pushed the unlock button on her keychain. Within minutes she had backed the SUV out of the garage and was heading down the street. It had been so long since the family had been together to celebrate one of Randall’s accomplishments. She wanted everything to be as perfect as it could be. She glanced over at Albany, satisfied that her jeans were contemporary yet stylish and her blouse was age-appropriate. They’d had their share of fights over wardrobe, so she was glad that had not been an issue today. Aaron tended to dress like his father, and today’s look of jeans and a T-shirt boasting PSI’s logo was no exception. For a second, Sherri questioned whether or not she should have sported a T-shirt with the company’s logo in orange and beige, but looking down at the tan sundress that she’d paired with multicolored flat sandals and a large brown belt, she felt appropriately dressed.

They reached the building where the Atwater Achievement Module’s science fair was taking place. Randall, along with the students who helped to tutor the kids, had made sure everything had been set up in top-notch fashion. All of the equipment was the latest, and the best money could buy. There were microscopes and centrifuges, Petri dishes and other items scattered about. Sherri saw Randall and waved.

“Come on, guys. There’s your father.”

“Hey,” he said, giving her a quick kiss before greeting his children.

“This looks cool, Dad,” Aaron said.

Albany didn’t respond. She was too busy trying to look cute for a handsome boy eyeing her from across the way. Randall and Sherri both noticed it and rolled their eyes. “Glad you came to the science fair now, Albany?”

She shrugged and changed her focus. “It’ll be okay, I guess.”

“Go ahead and handle your business,” Sherri said to her husband. “We don’t want to keep you from what you should be doing. Just came over to say hello.”

“I’m glad you did. I want you to meet the guy who runs the program when I’m out traveling. Kids, you can go check out the exhibits.”

“Make sure your phones are on and available,” Sherri added. “I don’t want to have to come looking for you.”

Sherri met some of the people connected with Randall’s program and then joined the others in walking around. Among the children and teens in attendance she watched with humor as her children tried to set themselves apart as “the man of the hour’s ultimate seed.” The more they heard their dad’s name mentioned, or saw the work of his students displayed throughout the room the more they interacted with the participants—especially Aaron—to show their special connection to what was happening that day.

Afterwards, the foursome headed to a popular restaurant for dinner. They settled into a booth and, once the waiter came back from dropping off menus and water, placed their orders.

“Today was fun,” Aaron said, looking through some of the brochures he’d acquired.

Sherri smiled and placed her chin in her hand. “I enjoyed it too. Kind of reminded me of how we used to hang out when y’all were little. Now everyone’s so busy with their own activities. I think we should do this more often. Don’t you, Albany?”

“Yes,” Albany said while texting on her phone.

“Put that phone down.”

“Why? We’re not at our dinner table.”

“We’re at a dinner table; they all count.”

She huffed, but put down the phone.

“Did you get Tay’s number?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t huh me,” Randall said, sitting back and looking at his daughter with humor. “I saw y’all talking just before we left. He’s a good kid. Smart too.”

“That your new boyfriend?” Aaron asked. He looked at his parents. “She has a new one every week.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay, y’all, stop fighting,” Sherri chided.

“I’m just glad y’all aren’t fighting anymore,” Albany said.

“Mom and Dad were fighting?” Aaron asked his sister.

“You didn’t notice all last week when they kept talking to us but not each other?”

“What were y’all fighting about?” Aaron asked.

“Grown folks’ business,” Sherri replied. “But we kissed and made up, didn’t we, baby?”

Randall winked as he responded, “We sure did.”

J
acqueline waited for several moments, wanting to be sure that the light dose of sleeping medication she’d mixed with Miss Elaine’s evening meal had taken full effect. So far her searches had proved fruitless, but she still wanted to know if there was any information that her “patient” had on Randall, Sherri, or the kids that could prove useful. She tapped lightly on Miss Elaine’s bedroom door before opening it and walking to where the older woman lay peacefully sleeping. Looking down at her for several seconds, Jacqueline experienced a range of emotions; some, like caring and a tiny built of guilt, felt like foreign objects in her body. A memory slammed into her mind—another woman: old, kind, and wise, just like Miss Elaine.
Grammy.

She looked at the nightstand beside the bed, and before she realized what was happening, picked up the pearl-handled brush that had been placed there. She sat on the bed and slowly, tentatively, reached for Miss Elaine’s curly silver locks and began gentle strokes. Tears formed in her eyes as faded memories of happier times swirled in her mind, the pictures fuzzy and distorted, but the feeling of warmth unmistakable. She’d been happy once, had felt cared for and loved.
That’s the feeling I want to have again
, she thought, brushing away tears as after one last stroke she replaced the brush on the nightstand.
That’s what I want to feel again with Randall by my side.

She stood and idly walked around the room picking up first one thing and then another. Miss Elaine’s was not a cluttered house. Most items had a place and were in order, so it didn’t take Jacqueline long to realize that nothing of value to her was in this room. She walked back into the living room, reached beneath the coffee table, and pulled out two large photo albums. She made quick work of looking through the pictures, some old, faded, and in black and white, others very recent. She paid particular attention to several pictures featuring Sherri and her brother, Nathan. He looked professional, and attractive. Another time, another place, and Jacqueline would have loved a closer get to know. But it was too late. Randall had her heart.

These thoughts were making her melancholy, an emotion that Jacqueline didn’t handle well. So she went down to her room and picked up her phone, choosing to be productive instead. Following the advice that Marco had provided, she went to her message box, entered a variety of codes, and within minutes was sending text messages between her phone and Randall’s. A devilish smile formed as she thought of how very clever was the job she performed. According to Marco, Randall would not know that a thread of additional messages had been added to the first one, unless he scrolled beyond the initial text. Since Jacqueline hadn’t been in contact with him directly in over a week, and had only sent a text that one time on the way to New York, she doubted that Randall would have an inkling of what she was doing. Until it was too late.

She sought and found the initial text and the test message she’d sent right after Marco’s tutorial. She reread the first one that she’d sent Randall:

The only thing that was better than the message she’d written as herself was the one she’d concocted to look as though it came from Randall’s phone:

“That was good, girl,” she muttered, sliding her thumb over the words. “Let’s see, this was sent last week. What should I say to up the ante a bit?” She thought for several seconds and giggled at what she was getting ready to do, then let her thumbs fly across the keys.

 

Grammy stood there, serene and enchanting, gazing at her with soft brown eyes.

“Grammy?”

“Yes, child.”

“Grammy, you came back!”

“I did.”

“I’m so happy! Is Sissy here, too?”

“Yes, child. Come with me.”

Jacqueline eased away from the wall and began to walk toward her, watching the ground to avoid glass and blood.When she looked up, Grammy was gone. But she was there, the other woman, this one mean and ignorant and smelling of gin.

“You’re a very bad girl,” she said, raising a hand that clutched a thick, black belt.

“No, Mommy!”

She protested, but still the belt came down: once, again, countless times.

Jacqueline awoke to tears wetting her face. She sat up, clutching a pillow against her chest, working to quell her erratic breathing and calm the wretched fear.

Repeating this thought, she turned on her side, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

A
few days later, Sherri was on the Internet when she heard the front door open. “Good afternoon, Sherri. It’s just me.”

“Hi, Blair.”

“I got your mail.”

“Oh, good.” Sherri walked out of Randall’s office and over to the table. “I’ve been waiting on an answer to my proposal about teaching part-time at the alternative school across town. They said they’d mailed me something.” She flipped through the mail and stopped when she got to a padded envelope. “This may be it.”

There was no return address on the envelope, but the address label looked professional enough. She opened it and pulled out the contents. There was a short, typed note on a blank sheet of paper, and several more papers beneath it.

She moved on to the other pages. There, in black and white, was a series of text messages and emails between Randall and Jacqueline, another after another after another.
I don’t believe this shit.
She looked at the headings and noted that the dates went back a month or more, most sent to Randall’s work e-mail address, and some to his phone. Some were short, mere terms of endearment or declarations of love. Others were more revealing.
I’ll try to get away tonight
, one of them said. And another:
Baby, you know I want to be with you and I will. But I can’t leave Sherri while her mom is sick. She goes to North Carolina next week. We’ll be together then.

Eyes widening at this comment, Sherri hurriedly went to her Outlook calendar and checked the dates against when the e-mail had been sent. Sure enough, it was sent on a Thursday, the week before she’d gone to see her mom. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to cry, or scream, or break something. But she was so numb that she could not move.
This cannot be happening,
she repeated over and over. But it was.

She reached for the phone. Renee answered on the second ring. “What’s going on, girl?”

“I’ve got proof.”

“Hold on a minute,” she said, her voice lowered. “Let me close my door.” After a couple seconds she came back to the phone. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“I just got a package.”

“From who?”

“Who else? That bitch, Jacqueline!”

“What was in it?”

Sherri told her, and read some of the exchanges.

“This is crazy,” Renee finally said.

“This is what I feared the most; that that bitch was telling the truth and Randall was lying.”

“Wait a minute, Sherri. Are you sure those are real e-mails? I wouldn’t put it past that scheming heifah to just type some stuff and mail it.”

“They look real to me, with Randall’s work e-mail address. It looks like she just printed them out.”

“This is messed up.” Silence, and then, “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go into a meeting. But listen, don’t do anything drastic until you know for sure about those e-mails. Talk to Randall and really listen to his side. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, girl. Call me later.”

“I will.”

 

She heard him when he came in. They were alone. She’d had Blair take the kids to the mall, thinking things might get ugly. It might get loud. But now, four hours had passed since she’d opened Jacqueline’s package. Enough time for her to have calmed down. Enough time for her not to rip Randall’s dick off as soon as they both were in the same room.

“Sherri?”

She took a breath, listened as his footsteps grew silent. He’d left the hardwood floors of the living and dining rooms and was now coming up the stairs.

“Baby,” he said when he reached their suite, “didn’t you hear me calling you?”

She answered without looking at him. “I did.”

“Oh.”

Imagining the look on his face caused her heart to crack. She knew him so well—every expression for every emotion. But then, considering the messages he’d written to Jacqueline, she doubted if she’d ever known him at all.

Randall walked over, his face showing concern. “What’s the matter? Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

She said nothing, just handed him the contents of the mail Jacqueline sent.

For a moment he was silent. “What the hell?” he finally mumbled, almost to himself. He scanned the other papers before crumbling the papers and throwing them on the ground. “This is bullshit, Sherri. I didn’t write that crap!”

“I didn’t want to believe it. But you can’t argue with black and white.”

“It’s obvious she created these to make it look as though we were corresponding. But I swear to you, baby, other than one or two times when I responded to a professional question, I’ve never e-mailed that . . .” Randall ground his teeth together, so angry that he was glad there was distance between him and Jacqueline right now. He wasn’t a violent man and had never hit a woman. But right now, if he saw Jacqueline, he’d knock her smooth out.

He picked up the papers, smoothed them out, and peered at them closely. Then he went over to his briefcase and came back with his cell. Sitting across from Sherri, he put the call on speaker. “I’m going to call my tech guy,” he told her. “Find out how Jacqueline could have done this because as God is my witness, this was set up.”

A half hour later, Randall and Sherri had moved their conversation downstairs to Randall’s office. Using the office phone, he called his tech guy, who said that indeed an e-mail account could be accessed from a remote location and explained how, by using her computer or phone a person could create a false chain of text messages and e-mails. Sherri finally said she believed him, but honestly, Randall felt it was more because she was tired of dealing with the whole situation.

His wife wasn’t the only one. He was more than tired too. So he excused himself for a moment and went down to his office. There was someone he needed to call.

“Listen,” he said when the call went to voice mail. “This has got to stop.Your trumped-up e-mails didn’t work. My tech guy was able to explain your stunt in five minutes. I’m on my way upstairs to sleep with my wife. If you contact us again, in any way—e-mail, text, phone, whatever—you will regret it. The authorities will be contacted, as will human resources at
Science Today
. This isn’t a warning. It’s a promise. For the last time I’m telling you in no uncertain terms. Leave me and my family alone.”