Every Woman Needs a Wife (7 page)

“Time to make some changes?”

“No lie,” Brandi said with a nod. “I certainly don’t want any more of his used dick.”

Avie took a big bite out of her chicken pesto sandwich and scribbled a few notes. “You also shouldn’t leave the marriage without some green-and-white tissue to wipe your tears on—”

“Yeah, the crisp kind that comes in several denominations,” Brandi said, folding her fingers as though she held a stack of cash inside. “The
large
ones.”

“Damn straight,” Avie said, perking up. “How do you want to pull this off? You know I’m not in for playing Mrs. Nice.”

Brandi sat back down in the chair, popping open the lunch box. “I’m not sure. I don’t want the girls to suffer.”

“You mean no more than they already have?”

She had a point. A really good one, too. When was the last time Vernon did something special with them? He had taken them to a client’s house a couple of times—a Mrs. Kaulman or Kaufman or something like that. But that was about business, not about the girls at all. “You know, everything we’ve built together: the business, the house, the cars, the assets—half of it belongs to me.”

“Actually, more, since you held up your end of the bargain,” Avie said, scribbling more notes on the bright yellow pad while making headway on her sandwich. “Being faithful to him, making a good home for him and the girls counts for plenty. You can’t take the soft road on this, baby girl.”

Brandi’s gaze focused on the wall behind the desk. Degrees hung between pictures of Avie with her husband, Carlton, and three children—Carlton II, Carrington, and Marilyn. The two friends had all but married Brandi’s girls and Avie’s boys off in the stroller. “Vernon practically insisted I have the children right away. I think he thought that it would make me put up with his crap—”

“And let’s face it, you have. The children didn’t have anything to do with that,” Avie said in a grim tone. “I told you to watch out for him after that time he met with Mr. Adams and painted you right out of the picture. He played right into that man’s male chauvinist attitude like a champ, acting as though the company didn’t run without him.”

“Oh, that was an ego thing,” Brandi said, dismissing the memory of the painful episode with a simple gesture. “He can’t admit that I’m just as important to the business as he is.”

“Let Carlton try to pull that crap. I’d give him directions to his own ass-whipping so he wouldn’t be late.”

Brandi laughed, realizing that Avie always had a way of lightening up the heaviest mood. When they met at Fisk, they never realized that one day Avie would own a law firm, or that Brandi would marry Vernon, arrogance and all, and start a business with him. She also never thought that she would have two children to look after, when she swore up and down after her thirteenth birthday that she would never have them. God must’ve seen that as funny because he gave her two girls, and she worried every time they stepped out the door. Just like her mother had worried about her. And that worry was warranted. She was lucky she had even been able to have children after the surgery she’d had at thirteen to repair her damaged body.

Finally taking a tiny bite of her sandwich, she said, “Vernon’s a good man, but it seems that the more successful we’ve become, the more he’s changed.” She rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “We’re able to give our children anything and everything. My girls won’t have to wait years to explore opportunities; they can create their own—like we swore on our wedding day.”

“And I thought
that
would never happen,” Avie said softly. “Remember how Vernon’s dad almost cut him off completely because he had him all lined up to marry Veronica? Boy, did that girl have mud on her face.” Avie laughed, a harsh sound that didn’t mesh with an angelic face and model-perfect features.

“Don’t be bitter ’cause she tried to get into Carlton’s pants.”

Avie’s smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed to slits. “Wouldn’t have been a problem if I wasn’t already in them.”

“What did you do to her that day?”

“I’m not telling on the grounds that it may serve to incriminate me.”

Brandi roared with laughter, remembering how Veronica had stood up in the middle of Avie and Carlton’s wedding, opening her wide mouth to object when the pastor said, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Avie had yanked off her veil, hiked up her white dress, and stormed down the aisle, train and all. “Can I see you outside, please,” she demanded, yanking the wafer-thin woman by the hair, giving her no choice in the matter. All heads and eyes stayed glued to the mahogany doors, waiting for an outcome.

Avie, composed and all smiles, appeared five minutes later. Veronica wasn’t heard from until three months later. By then she had packed up and moved to California.

Veronica had been a thorn in Avie’s side since she and Carlton had gotten together. Brandi had had no such problems with another woman. Now she had a big one. “I’ve given my life to my family and to the business. There’s never been time for me…”

“And whose fault is that?”

Brandi held Avie’s wedding picture in her hands, trailing her finger across the happy smiles of the bride and groom. “And to think I turned down Michael Cobb, a Fisk man, for Vernon.”

“And Michael was fine, too—and upstanding,” Avie mused.

Brandi blinked to clear her vision, thinking of the one she let off the hook and tossed back into the water. “Vernon was a driven, intelligent, but compassionate man in the beginning—all the qualities of a Morehouse man. His only flaws were that famous Morehouse arrogance and being a little under his father’s thumb. And I accepted that. Unfortunately, his ‘flaws’ have snowballed into something I can’t bear.”

Avie took a sip of Dr Pepper. “Time to pull the rug out from under the Black Stallion.”

“Yes, it’s time to stop playing at being married, stop giving so much, and start saving my money. My future, Sierra’s, and Simone’s depend heavily on the intelligence I went to Fisk to cultivate.”

The fact that she had to think that way at all angered her beyond reason. The moment she got pregnant, Vernon had all but insisted she turn the business over to him and stay at home. They had a major argument, one that lasted the entire pregnancy. She worked up until a week before the due date, stopping then only because Sierra had decided to come a few days early. If Brandi had her wish, they would have wheeled her to the delivery room on the copy machine. Pregnancy was a bitch. She couldn’t even keep water down for the first month and spent several days on intravenous feedings to get some nutrition. The smell of food had facilitated payments to the porcelain god so many times, she thought about just moving into the bathroom. She didn’t know how Vernon talked her into doing it twice. He had pushed for a third and fourth. She told the doctor that if she got pregnant again, despite regular use of birth control, he could wake her up after the kid came out and she’d cut and tie the tubes her own damn self.

“Avie, it’s time to get down to business.”

“
Just
so you know, I’m gonna treat you like a real client.”

Brandi grimaced. “So, after all I did when you bought this place—washing the windows, painting these walls, and scrubbing the floors—now I have to pay full price? What happened to the family discount?”

“Girl, please, when have you ever paid for me to represent you?”

Brandi’s heart pained as she looked up at her friend. “I’ve never needed you this way before…”

Avie blinked twice before laying the legal pad on her desk. “I’m giving you a list of things to do. I want you to sleep on this tonight. Some of it’s a little under the radar, but you’ll have Vernon by the short and curlies.”

Brandi turned to face her lawyer. “The who?”

“Pubic hairs. Trust me, it’s better than putting a vise grip on his balls.”

After what Avie had done to Vernon’s father—the man didn’t have any “short and curlies” left—Brandi knew her lawyer and friend was capable of bringing any man to his knees.

In some ways she already felt sorry for Vernon.

A
s Brandi slid a sly glance at Tanya, standing on the doorstep in all her glory, she saw more than a way to get back at Vernon. She now had an opportunity to strike a blow for every wife who had unwittingly shared time, space, and dick with the unknown and had walked away with a bruised ego, insecurities, and less than their fair share of the financial power they’d helped to build. This was one lesson she wouldn’t fail to teach Vernon, and Tanya would be the main source of his pain.

Brandi and Vernon’s family were still inside partying like tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough. And probably for him, it couldn’t. She stared at the “other” woman. Moments stretched between the two women before Brandi lifted her fingers to her temples, asking, “You said something earlier about my girls. How do know my daughters?”

In a somber tone, she answered, “He’s brought them by a few times, but just recently. They call me Mrs. Kaufman instead of Tanya.”

Realization slammed into Brandi like a crappy old car with a bad set of brakes. “So that’s who they were talking about. He really did set you up in the database as a client. That mother—”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Tanya said softly. The breeze ruffled her hair, causing it to fly in her face. She moved it away with the soft sweep of her hand.

“You know, Tanya, I’ve heard women say all the time that they need a wife; now’s my chance to pull it off” Brandi said, thoughtfully. “And if you’re game, I’d love to teach Vernon a lesson he’ll never forget.”

“Count me in,” Tanya said with a wide grin. “I’m good with the ‘every-woman-needs-a-wife’ syndrome. Do you know what you’re in for?”

Tanya studied her hands for a moment. “I can cook, clean, organize, and I already know the girls.” Then she looked up, locking her bright blue gaze on Brandi. “And I’m hoping that on some levels that you’re a better
man
for anything that doesn’t require a dick.”

“Well, thanks to recent developments,” Brandi said, dryly. “I’ve got one of those under the bed.”

This might prove interesting. If Tanya became
her
wife instead of Vernon’s, it would be the best form of revenge. He would never live it down—at least not until well after Brandi had rammed the point home. Bend over and oil up, baby! This was going to be a mofo!

Fueled by anger that hadn’t really gone away, Brandi extended her hand to Tanya. “Wife it is. Go get your stuff.”

Tanya shook the hand firmly, then turned, ran to her car, pulled out a few of her bags, and followed Brandi into the house. Brandi gestured toward the foyer closet, and her new “wife” parked her items inside.

Strolling across the room to the turntables, Brandi fumbled, trying to locate the volume. She picked up the microphone, waiting for the piercing whine to subside before saying, “May I have your attention, please.”

All heads slowly turned in her direction. Tanya stood in the doorway, looking every bit the victorious woman instead of the spurned lover she had become during the confrontation at her house earlier.

Vernon sprang to life, jumping from the chair to stare at Tanya. The men followed his gaze, some admiring the new view, others with dropped jaws. The room went still as everyone stared at the only white woman in the room. Brandi gestured for her new “wife” to come stand beside her.

She grasped Tanya’s hand, holding it up in triumph. “People, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. My new ‘wife.’”

Murmurs erupted from every corner of the house.

Vernon’s father almost burst a stitch in his black suit as he yelled, “What!!!!”

But one voice carried over everyone else’s. “See, I told you she was bisexual.”

Avie whirled to face Vernon’s friend Craig, who scooted back as the lawyer reared up like a racehorse ready to trample over him to the finish line. “What did you say, Negro.”

“Nothing,” he mumbled weakly.

She lowered the dinner plate. “That’s what I
thought
you said.”

Alanna, Craig’s wife, crossed the room and punched her husband in the arm. The man’s light skin turned a gray color that matched his outfit. He retreated from his wife’s blow, patting his short-cropped hair back into place.

Brandi’s gaze returned to her guests, who were obviously waiting to see what came next. She felt a little disconnected, somewhere between dreaming and waking. How much did she want to tell their family and friends?

“Brandi, I will kill you!” Vernon growled. Craig and Jeremy held him back, flailing arms and all. A fist connected with Jeremy’s face. Jeremy, whose light brown skin was a perfect combination of his Black and Mexican heritages, ran a thick hand through his wavy hair as he cracked his neck to one side. Then he straightened his shirt, growling, “Chill out, man. ‘Cause if you hit me one more time, I’m gonna whip your ass before Donny gets a chance.”

Brandi stepped forward, pulling Tanya along with her. “My husband took the liberty of bringing this
wonderful
woman into our lives. And I can respect that. This is his mistress.”

Tanya held her head high, shaking her curls out about her shoulders as more than sixty pairs of eyes bore into her.

Brandi’s gaze rested briefly on each person, absorbing the shocked expressions with glee. “And, just like the Godfather, I’ve made her an offer she can’t refuse.” She patted the woman’s hand gently, almost lovingly. “She’s going to live here with us,” she said, breaking into a satisfied smile, “as someone who keeps the home end of things together for me—sort of like a wife—
my
wife. That way I can get something out of the deal other than hard work on my part and a little slippery action between the sheets on his. Way to go, Vernon. I love you!”

Quiet settled around them as necks craned back and forth as though a tennis match had unfolded right there in the living room.

“I told you not to marry that crazy bitch,” William bellowed, startling everyone with his pure angry baritone.

“Who are you calling a bitch?” Brandi’s mother demanded, nearly dropping her plate as she whirled to face the heavyset, bearded, bald-headed man. “Call her that again and I’ll beat the cow-walking bullshit out of your plump behind.”