Bad Habits Part 32

Cain stared down at the spreadsheet. He had to be sure of his answer. Be sure of how to leverage it effectively between Keith and Andrew. How to maybe make this the opportunity to free himself. "It's a two year old engagement. There are a lot of moving parts and some of them out of my division. I'll need...time."

Keith nodded, his eyes wild with excitement. "Okay, take the time. I want this to be your number one priority." He walked over and extended his hand. "I think, together, you and I can take this company into the future. It's a risk, but I get the feeling you want to be your own man. Am I wrong?"

Cain answered, "No, you're dead on."

Bunco! Bunco!

It was the third dress she had changed into. She couldn't decide on anything at this point, particularly the attire of the snotty women she would forcibly mingle with tonight. From their attire at the club, they appeared preppy and tailored. She expected it to be more of the same. She considered pants and a log sleeve s.h.i.+rt. But none of that had true appeal. So she settled on the soft pink Tahari dress with the squared bodice and a daffodil yellow thin sweater to wear with it. It was a warm night, but she could get away with it.

Stepping back, she looked herself over in the mirror. There wasn't much more she could do for the evening. Besides, she had to question her motives again. Did she really care what Maryanne and her snotty friends thought? Or was she more interested in seeing Cain again this evening?

She refused to answer herself. Instead she busied herself with slipping on her sandals, and then headed for the door. Careful on her tender foot, she stopped mid-step at the opening of the door and the arrival of her husband. He paused, eyes lifting to hers, travelling over her and taking in every detail of her appearance.

"You look beautiful," he said with that wolfish grin she knew too well.

Simone exhaled. She descended the remaining steps carefully. She should have chosen her flats. The pained foot wasn't a slave to fas.h.i.+on. It appeared that Keith noticed too. "Maybe you should stay in. I can cook for us. We can talk. d.a.m.n it, babe, been thinking about you all day."

She looked away and over to the ceramic dish where the extra set of keys lay. "Excuse me," She maneuvered around him. Keith, of course being Keith, stepped in her way.

"You smell nice. I want to make up."

Simone stepped out of his reach, careful to not be touched. She swiped at the locks of hair over her left eye, tucking them behind her ear. "Not sure how long this card game or whatever it is will last. Don't wait up."

"Wait," he said moving when she did to block her pa.s.s.

"Keith? Would you move?"

"One more thing, then I'll leave you alone. I've called the doctor mother recommended."

Simone closed her eyes shaking her head. "Not for you, for me. This time I'll go. How's that? See? I'm willing to change. I'll meet with the therapist, get it all out and, then maybe we can go together."

"d.a.m.n it!"

"Simone?"

"Back off! Just leave me the h.e.l.l alone!" she said, pus.h.i.+ng past him and tossing the door shut behind her. She felt like s.n.a.t.c.hing her hair out from the roots. He needed to take his a.s.s to therapy, but she wouldn't. She was done. Marching away, she looked back twice, half expecting to see him following. But of course he wouldn't dare make a scene. She trudged through the gra.s.s, her heels sinking in the soil and causing her to put more pressure on her already swollen foot. Halfway to the Gatlin's house, she nearly reconsidered.

No matter. Once she arrived on their doorstep, she knew an evening here would be less of a bore than the one at home dodging her husband's advances. She could hear laughter. She fixed herself and stomped her foot so the clumps of dirt could fall away from the soles of her shoe.

The door flung open just as she pressed the buzzer.

"Simone, welcome! Everyone, Simone is here!" Maryanne said.

Simone's eyes narrowed on the host. Maryanne wore jeans and a casual polo cotton top. Simone crossed her arms shyly over her front, conscious of her attire once more. Maryanne beamed a bright smile. "Come in! Tish, Beth, Suanne, ladies, our guest of honor is here."

Maryanne took her hand. Simone was forced to follow out of the vestibule, in through the foyer, and then in to a living room that was larger than her own. The furniture had been moved. There were three card tables set out. Two of them were filled, the third half way. The pale faces of all in attendance focused on her. Maryanne stepped back as if Simone were her pet project. "Isn't she lovely? I told you all she was lovely."

"h.e.l.lo, dear," Bonnie said. She stepped in with jeans and a powder blue polo short sleeve s.h.i.+rt like her daughter. She sipped at her Sangria followed by two others. Simone smiled and nodded.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Okay! Let me make the introductions."

"Simone, this is Tish." She pointed to a redhead, with green eyes and face full of freckles. A beautiful young woman.

"Hi." Tish nodded.

"Susanne." She pointed to a dark haired, darker complexioned woman with bright blue eyes casually dressed like the others.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Beth." Maryanne introduced a pet.i.te blonde that could pa.s.s for a relative.

"Ciao, bella."

Maryanne chuckled. "Beth has a new gardener, she's been practicing her Italian."

"That's not all she's been practicing," A pretty brunette snorted. Soft giggles erupted amongst the women. Beth blushed.

"Hi, I'm Joan."

"h.e.l.lo," Simone said as the others were introduced. Her head spun with the names. The only one she seemed to remember was Joan. She didn't quite look the part of a cutout Stepford wife as the other ladies. Simone was led to the table where Joan and Bonnie sat.

"Sangria, darling? What will you have? White or Red?" Bonnie asked.

"White?"

"Good choice," Joan winked. "The red tastes like s.h.i.+t."

"Now, Joan, manners," Bonnie admonished.

Simone smiled, "I'll get it," Maryanne offered, and then rose to fix herself a drink. Simone could barely hear her thoughts over the laughter at the other tables. She sat patiently waiting to be served. "Here you go. Put some pineapple in it. Mother ate all the strawberries."

Bonnie rolled her eyes and sipped her Sangria. "You should have put them in the pitchers, not as an aside dear."

"So, Simone, where are you from sweetie?" Joan asked, picking up her wine gla.s.s.

"New York."

"Ah, I love New York, or did before I got married and had my monsters. How do you like Castle Rock?"

"It's lovely. Everyone is," Simone smiled.

"Bulls.h.i.+t, honey, the place is boring as-"

"Joan," Maryanne cut in. "Simone is new. Let's not scare her off just yet."

Joan rolled her eyes. "That's right. Let's pretend. Fine, welcome, Simone! You'll love it here," she winked. Simone chuckled and took a sip of the white wine mix, with the pineapples floating in the bottom. It was delicious. She'd never had Sangria before, but she could get used to them quick. Her eyes went to the set up. On each table were spiral notebooks, pencils, dice, and bells. Simone wasn't sure what this game meant, but she was certainly curious.

"Have you played before?" Bonnie asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"No, first time."

"Don't worry, hun. It's a h.e.l.l of a lot better than Bridge. That's what these girls were used to. Bunco was my idea. Sangria was Maryanne's. Been a favorite of ours since," Joan said. Simone noticed how Maryanne kept staring at her. She wondered if Cain was upstairs.

"Girls! Everyone listen up," Maryanne said. The other ladies grew quiet. She now had the floor. Since Simone is new, let's show her how it's done while we wait for the others. Mother, you be the scorekeeper."

"Perfect, I like bells!" Bonnie said ringing the bell.

"So this is how it's done," Maryanne began. "We play against each other in teams. Two to each table. Our table is the head table and that table is where Tish is, is the middle. And that table where Beth is, is the bottom. Mother rings the bell. We roll the dice."

"Ladies! I'm here!" The door opened with a woman sashaying in, followed by two others. Simone looked up, Maryanne turned in her chair and everyone watched her emerge. The moment Simone saw her she remembered her, and when the woman looked at her she knew she did too.

"Oh who gives a s.h.i.+t?" Joan said under her breath, rolling her eyes. Simone looked over and Joan shrugged. She mouthed. "I-can't-stand-her."

Maryanne was up to her feet. "Buffy! Now you know we couldn't start without you. h.e.l.lo, Mich.e.l.le, Debbie. Come in ladies. You know the drill." She hurried over on her toes and gave her friend Buffy air kisses. Buffy gave a chuckle, but her eyes narrowed in on Simone. Maryanne took her hand. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back the other day. I was busy with Mother and the decorators getting ready for the party this Friday. Come on. Let me introduce you to our guest of honor."

Simone set her wine gla.s.s down. She was trapped. She didn't even think of running into this woman. Now she wished she had. "Buffy, this is-"

"Simone Livingston, right?" Buffy extended her hand. Simone accepted it and shook it. "We met already, didn't we, Simone?"

Maryanne frowned. "You did?"

Every eye in the room was on Simone. Especially Maryanne's who had a mix of shock and confusion. Joan chuckled. "Come now, Buffy thinks she knows every d.a.m.n body. Can we get the game started?"

"Oh, I met her. I called you the other day, Maryanne, to tell you I met your neighbor with your husband at Costco. They were having lunch."

Maryanne narrowed her eyes on Simone. The hush over the room was instant. She looked around at the stares and tried to speak plainly. Tried because it was one of the most uncomfortable moments. "We did meet. I was shopping at Costco and Cain was there for lunch. He and I were talking when Buffy arrived."

"Costco? Why would Cain go there?" Bonnie's nose bunched up.

"Oh please! Who gives a s.h.i.+t? Are we going to play or what?" Joan snapped.

Maryanne waved it off. "Cain likes the pizza there. Come on ladies. Let's play! Buffy, get a Sangria. You too Mich.e.l.le, Debbie."

Buffy gave Simone a snotty look that didn't go unmissed by Joan. "You heard her, Fluffy. Go get your booze," Joan said, leaning forward. Buffy tossed her hair and strutted off.

"Excuse me, dears," Bonnie said, taking leave of them, to follow her daughter. Simone watched as Maryanne paced a corner. She and her mother exchanged words and glances over at her.

"Maybe I should go."

"What? Why? Because of that stuck up b.i.t.c.h? Please. She did that on purpose. Everyone in here knows what she is. Besides, her husband is f.u.c.king her seventeen-year-old baby-sister. She says another word and I'll let her have it."

"Huh? That's awful," Simone frowned.

"That's Mulberry Heights. Beth is f.u.c.king her gardener and learning Italian. Tish had her ovaries clipped without telling her husband. Susanne caught herpes from her Pilate's instructor and is seeking a cure from her nutritionist who she is also f.u.c.king. And Maryanne?" She looked up. "I think she's f.u.c.king that Senator's son."

"Gerald Wellington? Senator George Wellington's son?" Simone asked.

"Yep, that's him."

"You sure?" Simone asked.

Joan chuckled. "Caught them one time at the club. Something is off with those two. He had her cornered with his hand up her skirt, and it looked pretty intense. She looked terrified at being busted. Probably scared her secret would come out. The man has a b.o.n.e.r every time she's near him. Even my husband mentioned how he's always commenting on how she should have been his."

Simone looked over to Maryanne. Their eyes met. Both of them had a new awareness of the other in that exchange.

Joan sat back, glaring at The Hollingsworth women. "This is what they do. That's why they invited you. It's all bulls.h.i.+t and that party too. Before you came, they were talking s.h.i.+t about your husband."

"Why do you stay if you dislike them so much?"

Joan chuckled. "It's the only excitement in this dead town. Can you believe fifteen years ago I lived in Prague and ran a million dollar law firm? Now I'm a f.u.c.king housewife with three kids I can't stand."

Simone didn't know what to say. These women were too much. Joan looked over. "Okay, I love my kids. But let me just say the best years are after potty training and before they ask for your car keys. Heed my warning."

Simone smiled. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Take those stairs over there and up. I'll cover for you."

"Thanks." Simone rose and made a quick exit, again considering the door.

Cain grunted. What he wanted to do was monster truck over the three cars parked in his drive way. It was ridiculous to come home and be blocked out of the drive and then forced to come back out and move his car after the invasion was over. Throwing the car in park, he rubbed the tension gathered in his brow. He'd been nursing a headache since that morning. Choices were to remain at work caught in the web of espionage of his new boss, or come home and shower while his wife was distracted with her friends.

Grabbing his briefcase, he threw open his car door and got out fast, walking up the steps. He entered to the chatter of women's voices, so he made a dash for the stairs.

"Cain!" Maryanne said, catching him before he completed the climb. He looked back into her eyes. He barely spoke before he'd left in the morning after throwing her out of the room. Surely she didn't want to get into it all now.

"What?"

"Been to Costco lately?"

Cain frowned. Maryanne crossed her arms, glaring. "You and I need to talk!" she seethed.

He shook his head and hurried up.

"What am I doing?" she mumbled, behind the closed bathroom door. The house was similar to hers. This was the bathroom that he saw her from. Simone looked over to the window and out to her own house. Truth be told, she came here to see him which meant she was in trouble. Usually, she'd never be this bold or self-destructive. The man was married. She turned to leave but stepped wrong on her foot. Wincing, she groaned, looking down at her ankle. The swelling was increasing. She limped over to the sink. Flashes of the night before hit her, along with the ache to her shoulder and hip. Simone removed her sweater. She checked the swelling and bruising on her arm. It didn't look as bad, though she had a hard time lifting it. She drew up her skirt to her hip, when the door opened.

Simone looked up into Cain's eyes. First shock, then confusion flashed behind them. Paralyzed by his sudden appearance, she didn't react until it dawned on her that she had her skirt hiked up. Quickly she lowered it.

"Ah...I-," she stammered.

To her surprise he stepped in instead of out. "What happened to you?" he asked.

Simone shook her head. "Nothing."

Cain closed the door behind him. "I see your bruises, Simone. What happened?"

She couldn't speak, as he came in closer. His hand gently went to her arm. "How were you hurt? Tell me. Tell me now."