The Rich Girls' Club (20 page)

T
wo months to Election Day.

Morgan powered off her cell phone, computer, and television. This was the first Saturday of the year that there was no meeting. No girls were coming to her home.

Magnum had gone from being confrontational about her catching him in Brooks’s bed to cutting off all communications with his wife. He was no longer working at the spa. She didn’t know where he was but prayed he wasn’t staying with Brooks, and Morgan’s pride wouldn’t allow her to call Brooks to confirm what she didn’t want to acknowledge. If Magnum was at Brooks’s house, he could stay there.

“How in the world did I get here?” she asked herself while pouring herself a glass of champagne. She picked up the flute and the bottle, then went to the clubroom.

Sliding back the patio door, she stepped onto the balcony, took a deep breath. She set the bottle on the table and looked out over the trees. In the distance the mountains appeared to connect with the blue sky. Normally on Saturdays at this time, she’d be greeting Storm, complimenting Hope, and kissing Brooks.

Tears streamed down her face. Her house was no longer a home. This was not the life she wanted. This wasn’t her first time being alone, but it was the first time since her childhood that she’d felt lonely. Abandoned. Isolated. Ostracized.

She laughed, traded her flute for the bottle. She had it all. Everything that money could buy. And she was miserable and tired of being sick every morning. She knew what she had to do.

“That’s my plan that Brooks Kennedy is benefitting from. Mine, you hear me!” she shouted toward the mountains. A faint echo bounced back.

Morgan gulped the contents of the bottle. She held her breath until she sucked air. “Forget them,” she said, hurling the bottle toward her swimming pool.

She missed. Glass shattered. She’d call the groundskeeper on Monday to clean up her mess. She went inside, powered on her phone, called her travel agent. “Book me a flight to Sydney. All five-star accommodations and a personal driver.”

“But of course,” her agent said. “When are your departure and return dates?”

“Departing three days from now and I’m not coming back until Christmas Eve.” Morgan turned off her phone, tossed it on the nightstand, then lay across her bed staring at the ceiling.

By Christmas Eve the election would be over, and if her marriage was still worth salvaging by then she’d do that. If not, she’d go home to her parents’ for the holidays. One way or another she’d share festive moments with someone she loved.

Had Morgan alienated the people closest to her? Her solitude was a blessing and a curse.

Morgan grabbed her cell phone and powered it on. Alienation was a choice. All she’d done was her choice. She dialed Bo’s number.

Immediately he answered, “Hey, you okay?”

“I will be. I’m calling my doctor first thing Monday morning. I’ve decided not to keep the baby. If you don’t mind going with me, I could use the support.”

“Just tell me what time you want me to pick you up and I’m there.”

“Thanks, Bo.” Morgan ended the call.

What Bo didn’t know wouldn’t matter in about forty-eight hours. It was easy for a man to say, “Keep my baby,” but when it came time for him to be a real dad he’d probably develop a bad case of amnesia and become an absentee dad.

Her body. Her life. Her choice. She’d made the hardest decision she’d have to live with the rest of her life.

Morgan could initiate forgiveness. Call Brooks and apologize for intentionally making her best friend feel like shit. And if her man didn’t want to be found, Morgan was not the type of woman to hunt him down.

Magnum would have to come to her. If he wasn’t back by Christmas, all of his things would be in storage before the New Year.

“Hello.” The voice was inviting.

“Hey, can you come over?” Morgan asked. “I’m hungry.”

“I was hoping you’d call back. I’m on my way.”

“Thanks. I’ll open the gate and leave the door unlocked. Wear something sexy,” she said, ending the call.

The simple connection lifted her spirit. Morgan showered, slipped into a sexy teddy. Brushing her teeth, then her hair, she smiled at herself in the mirror. The doorbell commanded her attention. “I said I’d leave the door open.” She dabbed perfume behind each ear, strolled to the foyer.

Not peeping through the hole, she opened the door wide. Her smile vanished. The person standing before her was not the person she’d called.

“What do you want? There is no meeting today.”

Hope stepped inside. “I came for the video footage on Bailey. We don’t need you but we do have to have that tape. I’m not leaving without it.”

This was not the time to argue. She did not want Hope to see her invited guest. Morgan briskly walked until she was out of Hope’s view then she ran to the clubroom, unlocked the file cabinet, retrieved the DVD, and ran back. Approaching the foyer, she took several deep breaths, slowed her pace to a stroll before Hope saw her.

“Here you go. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Hope said, walking out the front door then getting into her sports car.

Morgan shut the door, watched through the peephole until Hope’s car was out of sight.

Exhaling, Morgan thought, “Thank God they didn’t bump into each another.” She stood in the doorway until she saw the car and person she was expecting.

“Hey, you,” he said, walking in with a bouquet of white roses.

Morgan shouldn’t have had Bo deliver all of those red roses to Brooks’s house. Her intentions had been the same as the night she’d caught Magnum in Brooks’s bed…bad.

“These are beautiful. Thanks.” Morgan closed the door and set the vase on the console in the foyer, then glanced up at the painting hanging over their heads.

“What exactly are you hungry for?” he asked, following her to the bedroom.

“If you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk. The wrong words might alter the moment.”

His strong chocolate hands massaged her shoulders. His tender lips pressed against the nape of her neck.

Morgan released a long, slow, “mmm,” when his hands traveled under her armpits then gently fondled her nipples. Her body quivered.

He led her to the sofa, faced her toward the wall. Pressing on her shoulder, he bent one of her knees to the floor, then the other. He leaned her forward onto the cushion. Her chin rested on her shoulder as she watched him brace himself on his hands.

Slowly he started doing pushups. Each time he came up he paused long enough to kiss her clit. Kisses transformed to licks, and licks to sucks. Just when she was about to cum, he slid his dick inside her.

He rested his body atop hers. Grinding on her ass, he humped deep with each stroke. His strong arms held her, gave her a false sense of security. His lips caressed the nape of her neck, his hand slid between her thighs, one finger lightly circling her clit.

Morgan buried her face in the cushion and screamed as her entire body exploded, releasing the emotional pain and welcoming the pleasure. His dick throbbed repeatedly. She could’ve fallen asleep right there with his dick inside her.

He led her to the bathroom, filled the tub with water, washed her body. Drying her body from head to toe, he tucked her in at noon, then left.

N
ot having the meeting with the girls at Morgan’s house was painful.

Hope had brought the video of Goodman that she’d gotten from Morgan. Storm had elected to stay with Chancelor, as opposed to coming to Brooks’s for the Saturday meeting.

Storm professed her loyalty was intact when she’d told Brooks, “I’m here if you need me.” But for the first time Storm’s dedication to the plan appeared to come after her relationship. She’d told them, “I need to spend quality time with my man.”

Since when did Chancelor come before the girls? When did any of their men take priority over the group?

There was no Bloody Mary and mimosa bar. No chef-prepared meal. No clubroom in the West Wing. The two of them sitting side-by-side felt awkward. Neither of them wanted a drink. Brooks wanted to get through watching the tape then move on with her day.

“It’s not as adventurous as Storm’s or my footage, but it’s enough to control Bailey.”

Brooks didn’t respond. She sat in her living room with Hope watching the DVD of Morgan servicing Goodman. Brooks’s sex sessions with Bailey had been different from what she witnessed on the flat screen. Suddenly she missed the way Bailey made love to her. She closed her eyes, imagining the last time he’d bathed her. In her mind his finger was pressing against her clit. Mentally she held it there, shivered, exhaled, then opened her eyes.

“You okay?” Hope asked, staring at her.

“Yeah. Just a little tired,” she lied. The screen was black.

Hope said, “Well, I’m going to make copies for everyone and return the original to Morgan. I’ll download this to a computer, set up a meeting with Goodman, and give him the footage. I have to do this within the next few days to make sure it’s not too late for him to scale back his campaigning, especially since Johnathon has given Bailey his support. Can’t let them build up too much momentum.”

“What about Tony? You think he’ll follow in Randy’s footsteps, drop out and support Goodman?”

Hope’s jaw dropped. “What the hell? Are you okay, Brooks?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“Randall Wallace and Anthony Dennison are Republicans. You’ve got your facts twisted. Randy is the one that dropped out already and he’s given Tony his support. There’s no way Tony can drop out at this point and we don’t want him to. Sweetie, you’re still ahead of them all but Goodman is close…Lord, we’d better hurry up and get through this before you mess it up for all of us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We need Morgan. I’m making an executive decision. As soon as I leave, you are going to go to Morgan and clear up whatever differences the two of you have. I can’t do that for you. And I sure as hell can’t do this without Morgan.”

Brooks knew Hope was right. Strong as Brooks was, she was weak without Morgan. They were all weaker without Morgan. Magnum didn’t matter. She did not owe him an apology nor had she heard from him since that intruder had broken into her house.

“How much do you know about what’s happening between Morgan and me?”

Hope stood, retrieved the video, stared at Brooks. “I know that you, sweetie, are a selfish bitch. This plan started out as a good thing and it can still end up being great but not if you continue to sit on your high horse looking down on your girls. You take lies to your grave against your opponents, not us. We’re busting our asses for you! We’ve sucked dicks for you! Fought for your ass! I almost drowned in that damn pool for you and I never complained. But what do you do? You sacrifice all of us. All of us, Brooks!” Hope jabbed her finger into her chest and cried. “Me! Storm! Morgan! And Magnum!”

And, Magnum?
She definitely knew something.

Hope threw the DVD across the living room, then headed in the opposite direction.

Walking and ranting at the same time, Hope continued, “Make sure your locks and the code on your gate are changed, and since you refused ours, hire yourself a bodyguard until the election is over.”

All of what Hope mentioned was already done except the bodyguard part. Calmly Brooks said, “I have someone in mind to protect me. I’ll give him a call today. If he’s not available, I’ll need your help finding someone.”

Hope stopped in the doorway, turned to face Brooks. “If you don’t do what you know needs to be done, count me out, too. This is not a game. In case you need a reminder, you’re running for governor of California, for God’s sake.”

Another one of her friends had just walked out of her house. Hope got in her cranberry Corvette ZR1. The spinning of Hope’s tires created a cloud of smoke right before she zoomed out of the driveway.

Brooks went inside, got her purse, and drove to Morgan’s house. The gate was open. Unusual but hopefully a sign that she was doing the right thing. Brooks approached Morgan’s door, which was slightly ajar. Her heart raced praying her best friend was all right. She tiptoed in.

“Morgan,” she sang in a gentle tone.

There was no answer. She bypassed the kitchen, where nothing appeared out of order. She went to the bedroom. Morgan was covered to her neck with the sheet and comforter. She looked so peaceful as she slept but Brooks wasn’t leaving until they resolved their problems.

She would’ve been more comfortable in the living room but didn’t want to scare Morgan. Brooks selected a well-lit area, helped herself to a Bloody Mary, settled herself in the kitchen, and began reviewing documents on her computer.

Three hours passed. Brooks would wait all night if she had to, but if she drank one more Bloody Mary she’d have to get in bed with Morgan.

“Excuse me, what the hell are doing in my house?” The voice was loud, deep.

Brooks recognized the tone. She looked up and saw Magnum.

“I came to see Morgan.”

He stood behind a stool across the table from her. “You’ve ruined our lives enough.”

“I haven’t ruined any,” she paused. “You’re right. I have. I apologize for the bad decisions I made but I wasn’t the only one.”

“You’re sorry but you’re not sorry. Why the hell did you let Morgan in your house when you knew I was in your bed? You wanted her to find out about us. I’m never going to be with you again. And I’m never going to divorce my wife. I love my wife.”

Brooks gasped. “That was Morgan? You mean the person that invaded my house was Morgan? How do you know that?”

“He’s right. It was me. Now I want both of you…out of my house. Now,” Morgan said. She didn’t wait for a response. She exited the kitchen through the same doorway she’d entered.

This was not the right time to tell Morgan everything that she’d done with her husband. The three of them confessing at the same time would only create a shouting match and make the situation worse.

Brooks didn’t wait for Magnum to respond. She did as Morgan had asked and left.