Home Wrecker Read online

  “No secret love notes. Nothing.”

  “So how do you know for certain that he’s fucking her?”

  Marlene gave me a come-on-now look. “You know as a woman we just know. Besides, I can smell her pussy on him whenever he’s been with her. It’s kind of tart, like maybe she only cleans it once a day.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “That’s nasty.”

  “She’s nasty. The skinny bitch. Smiling in my face whenever I see her, as if she’s really pulling something over on me. Pathetic.”

  “Maybe she’s smiling because she knows you know,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  “Then she’s a skinny, pathetic, arrogant bitch for thinking her inexperienced pussy is that good.”

  I took a sip again and nodded. “Inexperienced or not, Marlene, it must be something to have your husband swimming in it.”

  Marlene looked at me. My honesty had stung. She flipped open her cell again.

  “Why are you calling him?”

  Marlene hit the TALK button to send the call. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice filled with frustration.

  I frowned. Shook my head. I never understood why women did that. Stressed over a man.

  “Fucking asshole.” Marlene slammed her phone down on the bar counter.

  “Why did you marry him, Marlene?”

  “You’ve seen him. Thirty, a face as pretty as Brad Pitt, a body as delicious as the Rock’s.”

  “So he’s attractive. That can’t be the only reason you married him.”

  Marlene looked at me, then down at her phone and sighed. “He can fuck.”

  “What?”

  “I said, he can fuck.”

  I spit out a little of the Cosmo and laughed. “Are you serious? That’s why you married him?”

  Marlene passed her hand through her hair again, something she did when she was aggravated. “I’ve been married twice before, Lisette, to men who were my age and were on my level, both mentally and financially. They were nice, decent men. Good conversationalists. Driven. Had good credit. Pretty much what you’d want in a man.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “So what was the problem?”

  “For all of the good qualities they had, there was one problem. A major problem.”

  “Let me guess . . . they couldn’t fuck.”

  “They had dicks, but had no clue how to use them.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I’m serious, Lisette! They were so unfamiliar with their own tool, that I spent too many damn nights taking care of myself after they were supposed to. It was frustrating. Eventually I got tired of fucking myself and started fucking other men. My first husband caught me cheating. That’s why the marriage ended. I divorced my second husband before he could catch me.”

  I laughed again, finished off my Cosmo, and cued the bartender with my index finger for another. “So Steve put it on you, huh?”

  “Steve fucks like he invented it. I met him at the gym. He used to pursue me daily. At first I used to brush him off. I mean, I’m almost fifty. I couldn’t possibly mess with a man fifteen years my junior, right?”

  “But you did.”

  “He was persistent. Always approaching me with his sexy ways and his sexy pretty boy smile. Always ready with the compliments. I finally gave in one day, and agreed to go out with him to dinner. I figured, what was the harm? It was just dinner.”

  “I’m guessing it turned into a long dinner and an early breakfast.”

  Marlene closed her eyes briefly. I could tell that she was reminiscing. “Lisette,” she said, opening her eyes, “I didn’t plan on sleeping with him that night, but with the alcohol, his looks, and the fact that it had been months since I’d had any, we ended up going back to my place.”

  “And you were ready to marry him the next day, right?”

  Marlene finished her wine, did the same finger motion to the bartender, and said, “Trust me. . . . If you fucked Steve, you’d be hooked too.”

  I closed my eyes a bit. “I doubt that.”

  “Steve’s good, honey. Damn good.”

  “And now the secretary is getting some.”

  “Yes. The bitch.”

  “And instead of having to hear any crap about being divorced for a third time, you’re calling him practically every five minutes?”

  Closing her cell again, Marlene said, “Yes. I don’t need to hear the shit from anyone. I don’t want to deal with the judgmental stares. Of all of my friends and family, I’m the one who can’t keep a man.”

  “Have you tried catching him in the act?”

  “Of course. Surprise visits to his office. I’ve come home a day or days early from business trips.”

  “And you’ve never caught him?”

  “Never.”

  “But he comes home smelling like tart pussy?”

  “Yes.”

  The bartender brought our drinks and flashed us a smile. He was an attractive brother with an athletic build. Watching his muscles flex, I wondered if he could fuck the way Marlene said Steve could. I stopped wondering when he walked over to a man sitting three bar stools down from us and gave him just too much attention.

  Always the good looking ones.

  I looked back at Marlene. She was a mess. Attractive. Fit. Successful. Yet she was irritated and jealous because a man she knew she was too good for was giving her dick away.

  I took a swallow of my fresh Cosmo. “Why don’t you just set him up?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Set him up. Hire a hooker to fuck him.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s wrong.”

  “You could have been in an accident and that’s why you’re calling him constantly. Isn’t it wrong that he’s ignoring your calls?”

  Marlene didn’t answer.

  I continued. “Isn’t it wrong that you’re emotionally stressed from the fact that the man you married is giving your dick away? The dick that he vowed would only be yours?”

  Marlene looked at her phone, whispered, “Fucking asshole.”

  “Forget a hooker,” I said. “A hooker’s not good enough.

  He can pass that off as a mistake. A one time lapse in judgment. He’s human. It wouldn’t happen again. What you need is a friend. A friend is much worse. She can say he’d been coming on to her behind your back. She can say that he’d promised to give her what he gives to you.”

  “Lisette . . . are you serious?”

  “Your friend can say that he’d threatened to flip the script by telling you that she was the one coming on to him. You wouldn’t take her word over his because he loves you. That’s what your friend can say came from his mouth.”

  “Lisette . . .”

  “Do you have a friend that would do that?”

  “Lisette . . . I . . . I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  “Catch him in the act with someone you know, and your friends and family can’t say shit.”

  “But . . . but . . .”

  Marlene paused and fiddled with her glass.

  “But what, Marlene? Do you want to continue being unhappy?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to continue playing second fiddle to tart-smelling pussy?”

  “No,” Marlene said.

  “Then set him up. Get someone that you trust.”

  “But . . . but . . .”

  “But what, Marlene?”

  “But . . . I don’t have any friends that I trust like that.”

  Silence overtook our conversation as Marlene watched me watching her.

  Set him up.

  Set him up and no one could say shit.

  That’s all she had to do to regain control.

  I stared at her intensely. Marlene was a good woman. Honest and down-to-earth. Like any other woman, all she wanted was to be loved, respected, and to get some good dick. She didn’t deserve Steve’s shit.

  “I’ll do it,�
�� I said.

  Marlene’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I’ll do it. I’ll set him up.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. He knows me. I’ve been to your house a few times. He’s had opportunities to come on to me.”

  “But, Lisette . . .”

  “Do you or do you not want out of this marriage?”

  Marlene opened her mouth to protest, but instead dropped her chin to her chest. “Yes,” she said.

  And there it was.

  She wanted out.

  I could make it happen.

  That’s when my career changed.

  4

  “I’ll pay you.”

  I looked at Marlene. “Excuse me?”

  “I . . . I’ll pay you for . . . you know . . . helping me.”

  We were still in the lounge. At a table this time. Sitting in a corner, away from bartenders and strangers trying to eavesdrop without making it obvious, but doing a terrible job. A small candle flickered in the middle of the table between us. Soft music sighed from speakers.

  The lounge had dim lighting. That, combined with the candle’s flame, cast an eerie shadow across Marlene’s pale face. She was looking off to the right, too embarrassed or ashamed, or both, to look at me.

  “Are you calling me a whore, Marlene?”

  Marlene’s head snapped back in my direction. “What?”

  “You’re offering to pay me to trap your husband. Am I a prostitute in your eyes?”

  Marlene’s mouth popped open. “Oh God, no! No! I didn’t mean . . . Oh God, no! Please, I . . . I didn’t mean to imply . . .

  I just . . . just figured . . .” Marlene paused, passed her hand through her hair, took a healthy sip of her wine, looked down at the designs in the tablecloth, and then back at me. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Lisette. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Please forget I said that. Just forget I said anything at all.”

  I watched her, but didn’t respond. She reeked of unhappiness. Her shoulders were slumped, her head was bowed, her body shuddered as she began to cry. She was defeated. Her posture. Her demeanor.

  This was why I stayed away from relationships. Relationships made you dependent. Being dependent meant you had no control.

  One time.

  I tried it one time.

  I was eighteen. He was twenty-one.

  He was Denzel handsome. Had P. Diddy’s style. Possessed 50 Cent’s body and attitude before Fiddy ever stepped on the scene. He appealed to me on a level no one else had before.

  I wasn’t myself when I was with him. All of the power I had was gone. I fell for him hard. Fell for his attitude, his style and his looks. He was sure of himself in a way that no guy I’d dealt with before had been.

  Had I been born a man, I would have been him.

  We dated for two years. The first six months were bliss. He was sweet, loving and considerate. Then month seven came and the tsunami hit. Sweet, loving, and considerate disappeared. Ignorant, controlling, and abusive took its place.

  Eighteen months.

  That’s how long it took before I woke up from whatever spell I’d fallen under and got medieval on his ass. He hit me, and I’d finally hit back. He kicked. I kicked. He tried to strangle me, I sent his balls up into his throat, Mike Tyson’d his hand. Things got ugly.

  Very ugly.

  To this day, I’m not sure why I put up with the emotional and physical abuse, but I am sure of one thing: if another motherfucker ever puts his hands on me, they better pray they kill me.

  Relationships.

  Looking at Marlene was all the justification I needed for avoiding them.

  “How much, Marlene? How much would you pay to get out of your marriage?”

  Marlene looked at me. Her mascara had run from her crying. She shook her head. “Lisette . . . I . . . I didn’t mean—”

  “How much, Marlene?” I said, cutting her off.

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Ten thousand. Are you willing to pay that much? What about fifteen? How unhappy are you? How much do you want out of this?”

  Marlene grabbed a napkin, blotted her eyes, and frowned at the mascara stain left behind.

  “Twenty thousand,” I continued. “To get him out of your life. Twenty-five thousand to make sure you’re family can’t scrutinize. Thirty thousand so that he doesn’t get shit from you. How badly do you want out?”

  Marlene stared at me. I stared at Marlene. This should have been an odd conversation for me. I was offering to trap a man for money. The conversation should have been awkward.

  But it wasn’t.

  For some reason, it felt like everything I had ever gone through in my life, everything I’d ever done or said, had all led up to this moment in Houston, Texas, at the Sofitel Hotel.

  “I . . . I would need evidence,” Marlene said. “Something I could use against him in court.”

  I closed my eyes a bit. The tone in her voice had changed. The flaccid look in her eyes was disappearing.

  “What would you want me to get?”

  Marlene’s shoulders rose as her back straightened. “I don’t want you to get anything.”

  “But you said you need evidence.”

  “I want to walk in on you fucking him.”

  Whoa.

  Right before my eyes, Marlene had changed. The victim was gone.

  “You want me to fuck him?”

  “Yes. And I want to walk in on it. I’ll have someone with me. A witness. They won’t know what’s going on. I want to walk into my home and catch you with him. I want to see you riding him. Fucking asshole. I want him out of my life.”

  “You’ve thought about this before?”

  “Never. But I’ve dreamt it. I’ve watched him fuck other women over and over in my dreams.”

  “How badly, Marlene? Trapping is one thing. Fucking him is another.”

  “Fifty thousand.”

  My heart stopped beating momentarily.

  Fifty thousand dollars.

  That was a lot of money.

  “Are you serious?”

  “I hate him, Lisette. He disrespects me every day when he looks at me with her pussy on his breath. I want him out of my life.”

  “And you’re willing to pay?”

  “Fifty thousand dollars, yes. Are you willing to do it?”

  Pink Martini was playing in the background. Their song, “Amado Mio,” from their CD Sympatique . I had the CD at home. I loved that song. Listening to it always put me in a mood. I listened to the song as Marlene waited for her answer.

  Was I willing to do it?

  Fifty thousand dollars.

  I closed my eyes for a sec, let the song sooth and entice me the way it did at home.

  Was I willing to do it?

  She said Steve fucked like he invented it. I listened to the song and wondered if it was true. Wondered if he could fuck me as good as the song soothed.

  Was I willing to do it?

  Fifty thousand dollars to be fucked by Pink Martini, live and in stereo.

  “Yes. I’m willing.”

  5

  “Have you done something like this before?” “You’re calling me a whore again.”

  Hand through her hair, Marlene said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just nervous. Well, not nervous. Shocked. That’s a better word. Aren’t you shocked?”

  I sipped my Cosmo. “Not really.”

  “How could you not be? I never would have thought I’d be having a discussion like this.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I said.

  “Is that what I am? Desperate.”

  “Are you?”

  Marlene ran her slender index finger around the rim of her glass. “Yes,” she said, “I am.”

  “Why do you care so much about what your friends and family think?”

  Marlene frowned. “My family can be brutal. To each member, especially the women, life is more about status and appearance than it is about happiness. I’m the blac
k sheep of the family. I’ve always believed in being happy. My mother hasn’t loved my father for years, but she would never leave him, even though she cheats on him as though it were her second profession. Each one of her friends are wealthy and have been married to their affluent husbands forever. God forbid my mother step outside of that circle and be with a man that treats her with respect. My sister is the same way. So are my aunts.

  “When I was caught cheating on my first husband, I caught so much hell. He was educated, came from a rich, strong background. In everyone’s eyes, I’d pretty much struck gold. When my secret was exposed, you would have thought the gates to hell had opened up.”

  “How could you be so selfish and stupid, Marlene? The man comes from good stock. Do you know what you look like running around on a man like that? Do you know how much shame you’ve brought to this family? People are talking. You’re making us the laughing stock of this community.”

  “I had to hear shit like that every day. It was frustrating. It was hard. It was hurtful.”

  “But despite the scrutiny, you left your second husband?”

  “I had this whole I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude going at that time. After having gone through it with my first husband, I figured what the hell. It’d be easier to take the lectures than to not get sexed properly, which would have ultimately led to me cheating again. So why not say ‘fuck it’ and leave him? It wasn’t always easy, though. Some days I wished I would have just stayed with him and been more careful about fooling around.”

  “Did your family have anything negative to say about Steve’s age?”

  “No, because he was well off. Besides, I think his looks blinded everyone.”

  “But now you can see.”

  “Clearly.”

  Music slipped in between the conversation. Jazz. Guitar. Sounded like Norman Brown. Maybe Johnathan Butler. Wasn’t sure which, but I liked it.

  “So when do you want this done?” I asked.

  Marlene looked at me, then off to the right, then left, then back at me. “When can you do it?”

  I thought about that for a moment. As I did, a couple walked into the lounge with a baby in a car seat. I looked at them and wondered. “How come you never had children?”

  Marlene shrugged. “When I was younger, I was too into my career. By the time I was ready, I had two failed marriages. When Steve and I married, I thought we were going to have at least one child, especially with the way my clock was ticking. I used to imagine having the prettiest or the most handsome baby with Steve.” Hand through her hair again, she said, “Fucking asshole.”