Lovers and Liars (46 page)

J
ack was whistling when he got back to his apartment.

Things were looking good.

Very good.

He picked up the paper and shook it, tried to read. He saw Belinda’s face. Felt arousal. Life was so ironic—she was a pawn now in an ugly game, but she really did turn him on. The front door opened, and although Jack couldn’t see the door from the kitchen, he heard voices—Rick’s and a husky female voice he remembered from yesterday, belonging to the very pretty dark girl, Lydia.

Rick was saying, “Yeah, but they should have known all along!” And his tone was different from the brooding, hostile one Jack was used to. Happy. That was the only way to describe it.

“What are they, mind readers? Like you, smartass?”

They both started laughing—giggling, really.

Jack had to smile. Rick had never sounded like this—like a normal kid. It thrilled him.

“Oh, Jack. Didn’t know you were home,” Rick said, stopping in his tracks and dropping Lydia’s hand. He flushed.

“Hi,” Lydia said, flashing him a big smile.

“Ignore me, Rick, Lydia. Sorry, kid, but I’m going to be in for a while, if you guys can handle it.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Lydia said quickly.

“We rented some movies,” Rick said, holding up a bulging bag.

“You guys gonna have a movie marathon?” Jack asked. Lydia was leaning against Rick. A hand on his shoulder. Very affectionate.

“Yeah,” Rick said and shot Lydia a warm glance.

Wow! Jack thought as they disappeared. He decided he’d hole up in his bedroom and do some paperwork there, give them some space. He was so delighted to see Rick with a friend and a girlfriend all in one—especially an obviously nice girl.

The TV was on now, and their conversation had ceased. Jack poured himself a cup of coffee, glad to be distracted. He picked up the paper and stepped out of the kitchen.

They were sitting on the sofa, necking.

Jack hesitated. Break it up? Ignore it? They obviously couldn’t do anything while he was home—but what about later? Should he even bother to stop them? She was an innocent girl. He said, “Rick, may I speak to you, please?” and walked into his bedroom.

Rick came in, turned to him, and Jack frowned. He wasn’t sure what to do.

“Close the door,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Look, Rick, I know that you two are going to do what you want to do. I mean, I can make it difficult for you, but eventually you’ll find a way.”

“Jack—”

“Wait. Lydia is a nice girl. I think you should treat her with respect.”

“I know she’s a nice girl,” Rick said seriously. “A
very
nice girl. Don’t worry.”

Jack smiled, immensely relieved.

“And she happens to like me too,” Rick added.

“I can see that. Listen, I want to tell you something about women—girls—that it took me years to realize. Women are much more emotional than we are when it comes to sex. A guy can screw some broad and not give a damn who she is, walk away, and never think twice about it. But most women can’t have sex without becoming emotionally involved. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Rick nodded. “I think so.”

“I mean most regular woman. You’ve had experience only with hookers. That’s different.”

“I know.”

“Lots of girls at Lydia’s age aren’t ready for sex—emotionally.”

Rick nodded.

Jack was surprised he wasn’t defensive. “Maybe you should just be friends with her and use that phone number I gave you.”

Rick scowled. “I don’t want to screw those whores anymore.”

Jack shrugged. “End of lecture. Just wanted to give you something to think about.”

Rick nodded, closed the door, and sat on the couch beside Lydia, who snuggled up against him instantly. Making him feel warm all over again.

“Was it bad?” she asked.

Rick laughed. “He told me that you’re a ‘nice’ girl.”

Lydia started cracking up, and Rick joined her.

89

V
ince closed the front door behind him, leaned on it, and stared at the kitchen-living area, which was a shambles as always. Mary would be home any time, he thought indifferently, walking toward their bedroom. He supposed his timing sucked. He pulled a suitcase out from under the bed and opened all the drawers in his bureau. He began piling clothes in.

The stab of pain shafted him again, through a general feeling of numbness. When had the pain started to give way to the numbness? He wasn’t really sure.

Last night, facing the overwhelming realization that he had lost Belinda—no, that he had never even had her—had been the most awful, painful time of his life. He had driven around in circles all night, grieving and hurting. He had finally gone home at dawn.

Now he was exhausted, numb, with these intermittent moments of aching. It was time to start over, really start over. That meant separating from Mary. He wanted to get his things out of here as soon as possible. Maybe before she got home. He couldn’t handle a scene with her, not today, not when he was feeling so low.

God, had he ever been a fool.

It had been a fantasy for him to think he could have anything more than an affair with a woman like Belinda.

A woman like Belinda.

Independent, strong to the point of selfishness.

A sudden realization of just how selfish she was arrested him in his tracks. Had she ever given anything to him, other than her body, her nymphomaniacal passion?

The answer was an overwhelming no.

Vince paused, a pile of shirts in hand, wondering what
this realization meant. How could he have fallen so deeply for a woman so cold and uncaring? She had used him.

A flash of anger sparked.

And made him feel alive again, like a man.

The phone rang, and he was shocked to hear the voice of Abe Glassman’s secretary. She left a message that Abe had called and would Mary please call back. Vince hung up. What in hell was that all about? Why would Abe Glassman be calling Mary?

He packed, thinking about Belinda, trying to see her as she really was for the first time, instead of worshiping the ground at her feet. The picture wasn’t pretty. Mostly he kept remembering her selfishness. And the way she had led him around by the nose.

Making him feel insecure, jealous, bestowing her favors like a queen throwing crumbs to a beggar—Jesus!

He had a sudden perspective, one he didn’t like. She had made him feel like less than a man.

Anger vied with the sense of loss and hurt.

Out of her life.

The thought rose up to choke him.

He hated the bitch.

He was in the bathroom, throwing his toiletries into a paper bag when he heard a car door slam. He tensed. Bracing. Mary called his name. She appeared in the doorway, looking pale, disheveled, terrible. “Oh, Vince!” she cried, throwing her arms around him.

He hated this. He disengaged her and saw that she was crying. He felt like a shit. “I’m sorry about what happened,” he said.

“It was awful, Vince, a nightmare. I spent the whole night there, in jail …” She stopped.

Vince sighed. He threw his cologne in the bag.

“What are you doing?”

He hesitated, and her eyes went to the bathroom cabinet, now empty of every single item that belonged to him. “Vince?”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s over, Mary. I’m sorry. I’m moving out.”

“You’re what?”

“Moving out.” He walked past her into their bedroom.

“How could you!” she shrieked. “How could you do this to me when I need you!”

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. Our marriage is a sham—and you know it. You don’t love me.” He didn’t add that he didn’t love her either.

“You motherfucker! You’re kicking me when I’m already down!”

He slammed his suitcase closed.

“You’re moving in with her. With that cunt. Aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

“She talked you into this. To get back at me. Oh, goddamn it!” She sank on the bed.

“Mary, get yourself together. You’ve got Beth. You’ve been cheating on me. You’ve got your mother—and money. You’ll do okay. And Belinda and I are through. We broke up. I’m moving in with one of the guys from the crew. It’s for the best—for both of us.”

He picked up the suitcase, unable to do more than glance at her briefly. “Vince,” she moaned.

Suddenly he remembered, and he looked at her directly for the first time. “Abe Glassman called.”

“What did he want?”

“That’s what I want to know. Why in hell is he calling you?”

Mary paled. “It’s something to do with the shooting, I think. I mean, why else would he call me?”

Satisfied, Vince started for the door.

She followed him. “Vince, don’t do this. Please!”

He ignored her.

“Is it really over between you and Belinda?” she demanded tearfully.

“Yes,” he said, and he walked out without even looking back.

Never had he felt so lonely in his whole damn life.

90

“A
re you going out?”

Belinda was sitting on the bed in a short red silk robe, rolling up a stocking and attaching it to a black garter. “Hi, Nancy. Yeah.”

“Your arm shouldn’t be out of that sling yet.”

“It’s only for tonight. And I feel fine, pretty much.”

“Belinda—don’t go!”

Belinda looked up. Between her tone and her eyes, Belinda knew that somehow her mother was aware that she was dating Ford tonight. She stood and rebelted her robe. “It’s just a date.” Liar.

“With him.”

“Yes.”

Mother and daughter stared, unsmiling, at each other.

“Don’t be a fool,” Nancy said harshly, for the first time in her life full of certainty and conviction. “He’s going to hurt you, Belinda. He’s a user. Worse—he’s a liar.”

Every hair on Belinda’s body bristled—in defense of Jack. “What happened between you and Jack happened seventeen years ago,” she snapped. “Not only was he just a boy—the past is dead, and I’m not you. And as far as I’m concerned, your affair has nothing to do with me.”

“You’re going out with the man who destroyed your mother’s life, and you don’t think it has anything to do with you?” Nancy cried.

“I’m sorry that you fell in love with him, Mom,” Belinda said. “So he broke your heart. Well, you know what? You’re not the only one who’s had a broken heart—we’ve all been hurt.”