Lovers and Liars (11 page)

S
he would never forget the summer of 1971.

The aching loneliness and emptiness had begun early in her marriage, a few years after Belinda was born. Or even earlier. Nancy loved Abe. There was no question of that. But she never saw him. He was never there. Oh, he would come home at night, flash a vague smile at her, but then he’d lock himself into his study until late in the evening. Sometimes he’d wake her with his hands and mouth, in the middle of the night when he came to bed. It seemed like those moments were the only times they shared.

She knew she was a fool to complain. She had everything any woman could ever want. She had a dynamic husband who loved her and showered her with furs and jewels and homes. She knew Abe was proud of her. They went out several nights a week. Abe’s friends were all business associates; their wives were like her, attractive, dripping diamonds, perfectly coiffed. Abe always had a boastful comment:
“Doesn’t she look great?” Everyone always agreed with Abe.

Other evenings, Abe went out alone. “Strictly business,” he said.

Nancy knew better.

She knew it wasn’t always business. She knew there were other women. She told herself she didn’t mind. Because Abe loved her and no other woman would ever take her place.

And there was Belinda. Her beautiful daughter. Nancy loved her fiercely from the moment she was conceived. Abe was ecstatic that she was pregnant, for there was nothing he wanted more than a son. During her pregnancy he treated her like a princess, the way he had during their courtship. Nancy had never loved him more, had never been happier. She pretended other women didn’t exist. And then Belinda was born.

Nancy knew—although Belinda didn’t—that Abe had never forgiven his daughter for not being a son.

He was so disappointed he couldn’t hide it. He was so disappointed he was angry. He was so disappointed he was indifferent to the tiny human being who was his own flesh and blood.

Nancy told herself he would get over it. She loved her tiny daughter. She wanted to do everything for her. But she was Mrs. Glassman, and Mrs. Glassman had to have a nursemaid and a nursery and was not allowed to be like other mothers. She was not allowed to change diapers or feed her daughter or answer her cries at two
A.M
.

Nancy failed to conceive again, and she knew that she was failing her husband. The silent accusation was always there. She gradually became aware that Abe had refocused: As soon as Belinda was old enough he intended to marry her off, so she could give him a grandson.

Nancy had always been faithful to Abe. Adultery was not even in her vocabulary. And though she and her daughter weren’t close, when Belinda was forcibly sent to camp that summer, Nancy thought that she might die from the
desperation and loneliness of her life that Belinda’s leaving seemed to expose.

Just before camp started Abe had hired a new driver. He was twenty-one, a would-be actor named Jack Ford. Nancy didn’t look at other men, but she seemed to notice him. At first just a little, then constantly. Especially when they were thrown together every day. Abe was spending a lot of time out of town on business, leaving Nancy with the car and driver at her disposal. That summer was one endless shopping spree. In an attempt to enrich her life and take away the loneliness.

He was blatantly sexy, certainly one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. He held the door for her, said good morning and good night, and she found herself too flustered to respond. She was careful to drop her gaze from his compelling eyes before he could read her thoughts. For she was starting to fantasize about him—and Nancy was appalled at herself.

They had a home in South Hampton, on the beach. They went there every weekend in the summer. Abe would fly out late on Friday nights, while Nancy usually stayed from Thursday morning until Sunday because she wanted Belinda out of the hot city. The weekend after Belinda left for camp, Abe had to go to Los Angeles on business, and Nancy had no desire to stay in the sweltering city alone. She left for the Hamptons. Jack drove her in the limo.

She wasn’t really a drinker, but she’d had Jack pull over in Hampton Bays at a liquor store, and she sipped Scotch for the next thirty minutes until they got to the house. She began to wonder if she was making a mistake coming out alone for the weekend. The house was vast—twenty-five rooms—and Nancy was suddenly filled with dread.

She didn’t want to be alone.

She still didn’t know quite how it had happened. They arrived late; the staff was asleep. Nancy was a little drunk and getting more depressed by the minute. Jack carried her bags in, and she had almost swooned with gratitude when he said, his voice full of concern, “Are you okay, Mrs. Glassman?”

She started to cry, but she managed to stop. “Yes, I’m fine.” She looked at him.

He had brilliant green eyes, full of compassion, that searched hers. Waiting. Somewhere along the line he had taken his cap off. His hair was dark gold, streaked with shimmering lighter strands. His tie was loosened, his shirt collar open.

“I’ll get the rest of your bags,” he had said.

When he came back in she asked him if he’d like to have a drink. Just companionship, she told herself.

And then he took her in his arms.

It felt so good.

“God, you are beautiful. It’s so hard working for you, day after day …”

His arms were strong, and he wouldn’t let her move away. She didn’t want to move away. He was kissing her and he tasted so good. His body was hard and hot and Nancy was trembling beneath him—not from fear, but from desire. She needed him desperately, and it was an explosion.

He kept saying things, wonderful things. “You’re so beautiful … I’ve wanted you for so long … I can’t stand it … God, you drive me crazy … I think I love you …”

He thought he loved her
.

She wanted him to spend the weekend, but there was the help to consider. And her guilt. And the fact that she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted to ask him to stay at a local motel so she could meet him, but she was afraid to. Instead he left at sunrise the next morning.

She came back to the city a day early. Jack brought her bags up to her bedroom and left many hours later. Monday morning Nancy found out she was pregnant. Five weeks pregnant with Abe’s child. He would be ecstatic. She didn’t tell him.

All she could think about was Jack.

There was no turning back. They spent the rest of the month sneaking around, usually meeting first thing in the morning after Jack had dropped Abe at the office. Again and
again, Nancy postponed telling Abe she was finally pregnant.

And then one morning, when Jack was driving himself deep and thick inside of her, their bodies dripping streams of sweat, slapping rhythmically, he froze.

Nancy opened her eyes, looked at his expression of complete shock, and knew Abe had walked in. She made a strangled sound, pushing him off, twisting, grabbing the bedspread and holding it up, her gaze going to the door.

Belinda stood there, white-faced and wide-eyed. She turned and ran, blond braids flying out behind her.

15

A
be had always loved sex.

He had loved it the first time he’d jacked off in the bathroom at home at the age of nine. He loved it even more the first time he’d had a girl, who was actually a hooker named Mabel who hung out around Eddie’s candy store where he picked up the slips. He had been fourteen.

After that he’d become something of a menace. He was always grabbing the girls at school, the older ones who had developed breasts. Fortunately Abe was tall for his age and lean, not skinny. He seemed to have missed adolescent awkwardness. He was magnetic rather than handsome—some might say forceful. He would not accept no for an answer. But he seemed to have a talent for zeroing in on the girls who said yes, and they seemed to like him too. He was both enthusiastic and well-endowed.

At seventeen he became a bit more cautious after he had gotten a senior named Beth pregnant. She wanted him to marry her, of all things. Abe laughed in her face. He
couldn’t even be sure the kid was his. She married another senior four months later.

The college years were best. There was tail everywhere. Good girls didn’t—but so many others did. And Abe knew how to get the borderline cases over the edge. Then, too, there was Amanda Lee, Luke Bonzio’s mistress.

She was a blonde and gorgeous, with knockers that would drive any guy crazy. Abe wasn’t stupid. He knew she was off-limits. Still, he had to have her. And already, even at the age of twenty, he was used to getting what he wanted. Always.

Bonzio never found out.

Amanda Lee fell madly in love with him.

When Abe grew tired of her, he had trouble getting rid of her. He finally paid her off.

Nancy had been different.

She was a lady through and through. It was why he had fallen in love with her, why he had married her. He knew she was a virgin, just like he had always known his wife would be a virgin on their wedding night. He didn’t make love to her until that night, and then he was careful about how he made love to her, careful not to be crude, not to touch her too much. He tried to be gentle, not to hurt her, but, of course, lost control. He had never had a virgin before.

She didn’t climax, but then, he hadn’t expected her to. She didn’t enjoy it, but he hadn’t expect that either. Women like her didn’t.

Abe desired his wife but not the way he wanted other women. He made love to her as inadvertently and politely as possible. At the office he had a new secretary with a mammoth set of mammary glands, who also gave the best blow job he had ever had. He would never dream of asking Nancy to do something like that.

She was the perfect lady, the perfect wife, and the day she gave him his son, she would be the perfect mother too.

Until that very hot day in July when he had picked up the phone and overheard her conversation.

He had been in L.A. on business. Well, with pleasure
thrown in. California had an endless supply of big-breasted blondes—a bonus to a lucrative deal. His latest mistress was a starlet who was so good he was debating making her into a star. He might buy a studio or buy her a role. He already owned five percent of North-Star, and half the Board owed him. He could get her in there. He was pleased with himself and life in general, having just closed a fantastic multi-million-dollar deal to build a hotel complex in Palm Springs. He was in a magnanimous mood.

He had come home on an earlier flight than planned, and instead of going to the office he decided to make some phone calls from his study.

Purely by chance he had picked up Nancy’s line. And would have hung up, except that the man’s voice was familiar. He was saying something about “tomorrow,” and Nancy said, “We can’t. Abe’s back.”

At the sound of his name he realized he was listening to the chauffeur, the tough kid, Ford. Who was laughing. “So what? That hasn’t stopped us yet. I’ll come by as soon as I drop him at the office, like always. I’ve got to see you, Nancy. I
need
to see you,”

She was silent. “Jack, I’m worried. What if he finds out? What about Belinda?”

“Don’t worry,” he said huskily. “I’ll worry for both of us. Just hang in there. I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” Then, “I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

Abe had been momentarily stunned.

He found her in her bedroom, sitting on the bed by the phone. At the sight of him she went white. He reached her in three strides, his arm going out. “No-good cunt,” he shouted, and the blow swept her off the bed onto the floor.

Nancy shrank. “Abe,” she whimpered.

“I should kill you!”

“Oh, God!” Nancy moaned.

Abe grabbed her, yanking her up, hurting her and not caring. “How long have you been fucking around on me?” he roared. “How long, damn you!”

She was trembling and crying. “It was a mistake, I swear—”

“How long!”

“A few weeks.”

“And before Ford?” He had her pinned to the wall. “Answer me!”

“No one,” she moaned. “I swear, he was the first …”

He wrenched her face back, ignoring her whimper, then threw her on the bed. She rolled when she saw him coming, scrambling to the other side.