Totlandia: Summer (16 page)

Suddenly she wanted to throw up. She ran to the trash can.

He jumped up and followed. Gently he held her head.

Then he held her to his chest. They stood there, silently.

“You can cry,” he whispered.

“No,” she said fiercely. “No—and you shouldn’t, either.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “When Mandy comes on Tuesday, I think the three of us should have a conversation. Clear the air. No more vague comments. She’s going to give it to us like it is, no matter how bad.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered. “Is this going to be our lives, from now on?”

She didn’t want to hear that. Otherwise she’d throw up again.

She walked out of the room and into Dante’s nursery.

She stared down at her sleeping son. No one would take him away from her.

He’d always be the love of her life.

Monday, 22 July

1:32 p.m.

Brady’s financial manager, Scott Frederick, had made it quite clear: he needed to see Brady as soon as possible. And because “the utmost confidentiality is needed regarding the topic at hand,” Scott had insisted that they eat in his office’s private dining room. They ordered in from one of Brady’s favorite restaurants, Loma Linda.

As it turns out, the issue of concern was one Brady had already anticipated: he was about to lose his million-dollar investment in Art Cross’s financial fund, Treasure Island Mutuals.

Scott’s prediction was so dire that he shook the whole time he explained it. At one point he tripped over his words as he apologized for sending over a signature statement with the wrong financials. “Please believe me, Brady, when I tell you it was an honest mistake.”

“Scott, please—calm down. The purchase recommendation was mine, remember? I own up to it. You’re off the hook.” He looked for a way to change the topic, quickly. He found it on Scott’s credenza, where a picture of two tots—obviously girls, and twins at that—sat on his desk.

Brady picked it up. “Very cute. They’re, what, almost two years old here?”

Scott nodded. Finally a smile reappeared on his face.

“Exactly the same age as my son. Small world, isn’t it? We should get them together sometime.”

Scott’s smile faltered, if only for a moment.

That’s the problem with these workaholic dads,
Brady thought.
They don’t realize that the time they have with their kids is so short.

Suddenly he missed Oliver. He couldn’t wait to pick up the little guy from his ex.

Brady finished his steak quickly.

4:44 p.m.

“I think it’s time.”

Barry’s voice over the cell phone’s speaker was giving Brady a headache. The guy never took no for an answer.

No wonder he’s such a good attorney,
Brady thought.
I should hire him to handle all my business, not just this stuff concerning Foot Fetish.

Still, Brady wasn’t going to give in to him on this one point: Ally was never to know he purchased the company for her.

“It’s not as if she’s got some long-lost uncle who threw down that kind of money,” Barry countered.

“I get that. Really, I do. But you can see my dilemma, can’t you? If she hears that I bought it for her, she won’t accept it, and the whole scheme falls apart. So do me a favor and come up with something that will make her jump with joy at the opportunity to run it again.”

“You’re both nuts, you know? About each other, too, I might add.”

“Oh, yeah? Until she comes to her senses and takes my calls—let alone allows me to tell her how I feel—I say we play it my way.” Brady paused. “Are you sure the old ‘long-lost-uncle idea’ is a nonstarter?”

Barry’s response was a dial tone.

Brady might have been pissed about it, just like he should have been more angry over Art’s fund debacle. But just as he pulled into Jade’s driveway, he had something more important to be angry about: the number of vodka bottles in Jade’s recycling buckets out by the curb.

Was Pudberry off the wagon?

Brady stormed into the house.

“Where is he?”

Brady’s demand took Jade by surprise. She put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh! He’s asleep in his crib.”

“What? No, I mean Pudberry!” Brady pushed his way beyond her and the foyer, into the house. “I saw all the liquor bottles in your recycling cans. If Pudberry is drinking again, he’s out of here!”

Jade turned white. She was glad that Reggie was on a jog. She couldn’t let him take the blame for her stupidity. She drew herself up straight and with a stern voice, declared, “Those bottles aren’t his. They’re mine. But I—I’ve quit drinking—not that it’s any of your business.”

“As long as my son stays in this house, your behavior is very much my business.”

Jade had hoped to keep her cool with him, but she was quickly losing her temper. Brady could be so hotheaded! Even Kimberley had noticed it. She’d mentioned once seeing Brady on the playground scolding Oliver, and how it had scared her. It had embarrassed Jade to the point she felt the need to apologize for him.

Well, she’d make sure he knew she wasn’t going to do that any longer. “Since we’re on the topic of disgusting behavior, Kimberley told me—”

Brady looked sharply at her. “Kimberley? What the hell does that slut have anything to do with us?”

“Not us—
me
,” Jade shot back. “She’s my friend. And she says—”

Brady’s laugh was anything but joyous. “Are you crazy? She’s not your friend! She’s using you to get to me.”

It was Jade’s turn to smirk. “The whole world does not revolve around you, Brady. My God, it’s time you got over yourself.”

“I’ll be the first to agree with you, Jade. I wish you could convince Kimberley of that. By the way, feel free to ask her how you and Oliver made it into the club. She was your number one fan. Or maybe I should say, she was
my
number one fan.”

His…fan?

Jade shook with rage. “So now you’re telling me that you slept with her, too?”

But of course he was.

She hated seeing Brady nod, to watch him shrug it off. And yes, she could tell he was ashamed to admit this to her. Still, she didn’t want to believe him. She wanted to prove him wrong, just this once—to prove that someone could like her without wanting to get to him.

She grabbed her pocketbook and headed for the door.

Brady followed her. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To Kimberley’s. I need to hear it from her, too.”

Brady didn’t try to stop her.

When she got to Kimberley’s house, she reapplied her makeup to cover up her tears. As a friend, she owed Kimberley the benefit of the doubt.

She hoped Kimberley deserved it.

5:24 p.m.

“My God, Jade, your timing couldn’t be worse. Both the kids have diarrhea.” Kimberley’s three-year-old daughter, Hailey, clung to her shoulders, sobbing. “Serves me right for allowing them to sleep over at Sally’s house. Despite all her breastfeeding and organic crap talk, her kids are always sick! I’m surprised the CDC doesn’t send over a HazMat team every month to fumigate that place for the rest of us.” She set the little girl down in the bathtub with her four-year-old brother. “What’s so important that you’re ruining a perfectly good afternoon with me?”

Jade winced at the barb. Obviously Kimberley still smarted from all the times Jade had come up with excuses to avoid play dates. “I…I need to ask you a question. And please be perfectly honest with me.” She took a deep breath. “Have you ever had an affair with my husband?”

Even as her children splashed and jabbered, Kimberley froze, scrub pad in hand.

Jade’s hope was that Kimberley would turn around angrily and accuse her of being an awful friend for even suggesting such a thing. She wanted to feel awful for doubting someone who had worked so hard to be her friend.

The tub’s mirrored tiles allowed Jade to watch her friend’s face as she broached the question. Through the looking glass, she saw Kimberley’s eyes widen and twinkle. She saw the triumphant smile on Kimberley’s lips.

She saw her friend blush with pride.

But by the time Kimberley turned around to face her, the only thing on her face was a look of innocence. “My goodness, Jade, why would you ever think that? You know I’m the best friend you’ve ever had—well, in the club anyway. Those women are
sooooo
catty. They’ll say anything to break us up. Hey, do me a favor and grab a diaper in Hailey’s room. She won’t like it, but too bad. In one night, I’ve washed enough stinky panties for a lifetime.” With that, Kimberley went back to breaking up a fight over a rubber ducky.

Jade wondered,
That’s it? No righteous indignation? No questions as to who may have said it?
And no concern over how I may feel about it?

As Jade watched Kimberley with her children, the memory of the lavender thong she found in the cupboard on Thanksgiving came back to her, as well as the Secret Cupid incident, when, at the PHM&T Valentine’s party, she had received an anonymous gift of a similar thong. At the time, Kimberley had pointedly called her attention to the guilty look on Brady’s face.

Jade also remembered the look of shock on Kimberley’s face when she’d divulged Brady’s affections for Ally.

And all this time I thought she was angry at him for me,
Jade thought sadly.
All this time, I thought she was my friend.

“Hey, gal pal! The diaper! Snap to it, okay?” The dismissively sardonic edge in Kimberley’s voice shredded most of her remaining hope that she might be wrong.

Most, but not quite all. There was still one way to know for sure.

Jade moved out of the bathroom and down the hallway. But instead of going into Hailey’s room, she went to the foyer, where she’d seen Kimberley’s purse.

Kimberley’s iPhone was in the front pocket.

She flipped to the cell phone’s list of contacts. Under the initials BP, she found Brady’s cell phone number. To find it, she had to pass the
A
s. The first contact was listed as ANDY. Coach Andy’s picture was beside it.

Interesting.

She then scrolled through the phone’s camera roll. Had they been stupid enough to take pictures together?

Apparently not. But what she saw still shocked her—the last two photos in particular. One was of Bettina, nude, tied to a spanking bench. The other was also a nude shot, but of Kimberley. Through the mirror in the room, the form of a man could be seen taking the picture.

Was it Brady?

No. But it did resemble Coach Andy.

At this point, at least she knew where she stood with her ex and her supposed bestie.

She stood alone.

I have to get out of here,
she thought.
I have to get away. Far away.

With Kimberley’s phone in hand, she stumbled out of the house, got in her car, and drove off.

She didn’t stop until she got to the Golden Gate Bridge.

As was San Francisco’s usual summer pattern, the one-hundred-plus temperatures in California’s Central Valley had sucked the Pacific Ocean’s frigid mist through the narrow passage leading into San Francisco Bay. It was late afternoon, and already the bridge’s bright orange spires were enveloped in thick, white tufts of fog.

Jade wasn’t wearing a coat. Did it matter? She was too numb to feel cold.

To feel anything.

I have no purpose,
she concluded.
Even Oliver is better off without me.

Before she could change her mind, she ran onto the bridge.

“You’re not really going to jump, are you?”

The fog was so thick that she heard Reggie before she saw him.

She whipped around toward the direction of his voice. As she squinted, she could make him out. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was jogging. But I stopped to keep you from becoming just another sad, nameless statistic—and a faint memory in your son’s life.”

“Do you really think he’d remember me at all?” She stared into the cold depths below.

“Nah. I’m just throwing you a bone.”

She came at him, fists flying. “Why, you sorry son of a bitch! Who do you think you are, anyway? You’re just some…some drunken bum!”

No matter how hard she hit him, he did nothing to stop her.

In time, she quit punching. But she couldn’t stop crying.

She felt his jacket go around her shoulders. It was too big on her and it slipped off at first. So that it would stay on, he cradled her in his arms.

They stood there silently listening to the cacophony of foghorns trumpeted by the cargo ships and ferries pushing their way through the bay’s eternal chop.

She whispered, “I’m still cold.”

He nodded and took her hand, pulling her gently back toward the car lot adjacent to Fort Point.

When they got into her car, she handed him the key. Instead of putting it in the ignition, he stared straight ahead for the longest time. Finally he asked, “What could he have done to bring you to this?”

She pulled out Kimberley’s cell phone and clicked onto the contact book. “This is Kimberley’s cell.”

Reggie winced when he saw Brady’s name.

Jade shrugged. “She’s also got Coach Andy’s in there.” She took the phone from him and opened the camera roll.

Reggie’s eyes opened wide at the shot of Bettina—and even wider at the one of Kimberley. He gave a low whistle. “Do you think they took them of each other?”

“No. The pictures must have been taken at different times, because it’s obvious that they are in different rooms. But I think they were taken by the same man. Look here.” She pointed to the reflection of the mirror behind Kimberley.

“That is certainly not Brady,” Reggie declared.

“I know that. I could tell immediately. And yes, I’m relieved. In fact, it’s Andy.” Jade’s voice was firm. “At the same time, I want to make something perfectly clear. I didn’t come to the bridge because of Brady. I knew very well that he didn’t love me when he asked me to come back into his life.”

Reggie tilted his head, perplexed. “Then…why were you here?”