Lovers and Liars (57 page)

“We’re getting divorced.”

“Well, this is news!” She laughed, for once in her life at a loss for words.

“Abe isn’t going to leave his wife, but I’ve decided I like being a mistress. It suits me.” She grinned. “Rather, I like being
his
mistress.”

Her mother had no response.

Mary started to the door, then paused and kissed her shell-shocked mother lightly, hardly touching her flesh, on each cheek, European-style. “Ciao,” Mary said.

Let’s see you top this one, Mom.

She laughed.

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“W
ho are you?” Vince said, but he knew.

Abe looked at him and thought, Jesus, Mary is married to this? “Abe Glassman. Let’s talk.”

Vince scowled. “Me and my buddy are in the middle of dinner.”

“Yeah, well, let it get cold. We got a few matters to discuss.”

“I believe Mary and I already discussed them.” Vince put his hand on the door. “Why don’t you go back to L.A., Abe?”

“Listen, punk,” Abe said. “Mary told me all about your discussion, and you’re lucky I didn’t break your head open for touching her—got that?”

Vince drew back. He was big and strong, but he wasn’t a fighter and never had been. He instantly recognized the street-tough quality of the man standing in front of him, and his withdrawal was instinctive. He said, but not as hard as before, “She’s still my wife.”

“Not for fucking long.”

Vince was sweating. “Say what you came for, and let me get back to my dinner.”

“I want you to take off work tomorrow, and you’re all gonna fly down to Vegas so you and Mary can get divorced. Got that?”

“What’s the rush?”

“None of your fucking business, kid.” Abe reached into his breast pocket and removed an envelope. He threw it at Vince. It hit him on the chest, but Vince caught it before it fell to the floor. “What’s this?”

Abe folded his arms.

Vince opened it and looked at a stack of hundred dollar trills. He looked up.

“Count it,” Abe said. “That’s ten grand for a day of your time. And a no-contest divorce. You’re lucky I’m feeling so generous. And if you want to stay healthy and in one piece, you take the money, put it in your bank account, and be at the LAX private terminal tomorrow at eight
A.M.”

Abe smiled and walked toward the door. “I can let myself out.”

Vince watched him leave. He heard Ron come up behind him. Ron whistled. “Jesus! Vince, you’d better do as he says.”

Vince didn’t answer. He was angry because he was being strong-armed, and even angrier because he knew there was no way in hell he would turn his back on ten grand. Especially since he wanted the divorce anyway.

“Vince, you know he’s superpowerful. Maybe Mafia. He’ll break your legs or cut off your balls or something if you don’t do as he says.”

“Shut up, Ron,” Vince said. Wondering how in hell Mary had managed to snag Abe Glassman. And why.

He was also figuring out how early he’d have to leave to make it to the airport by eight.

114

T
hey returned exactly one week after their wedding, on a sunny, warm Monday afternoon. Jack dropped Belinda off at her house, telling her he’d return that night with some of his things. They had decided with little hassle that Jack and Rick would move in with her, although Jack would obviously have to spend more time in L.A. when he was working. Her place was much bigger, and Rick could have the downstairs without intruding upon their privacy.

He gave her a long, hard kiss before letting her out of the car. Then, to his surprise, he grabbed her hand as she was slipping out, pulled her back, and held her tight for another minute. He nuzzled her hair and released her, gazing at her, but he found that he couldn’t return her smile.

“Sure you don’t want me to come and help you pack a few things?” she said.

“I have some business to attend to first, and I think I should break the news to Rick alone.”

“Hurry back,” she urged and he nodded, wondering how any woman could look so good, so vital, so fit, so compelling. He shifted into first and cruised away.

He thought of Abe Glassman, and then he thought of Belinda. His wife.

His thoughts strayed to the past week of sheer bliss. He hadn’t intended to spend a week with her. He had intended to go to Glassman directly after the wedding. But somehow it had happened—a honeymoon with Belinda Glassman, the woman who was now his wife.

If he let himself, he knew he could fall in love with her.

He was, in fact, dangerously close to doing so.

He quickly shut off his thoughts.

He blocked out all kinds of emotions and concentrated
on the upcoming confrontation—which he had been living for, probably for the past seventeen years—ever since that cocksucker had had him worked over with brass knuckles to within an inch of his life. He felt grim. His pulse was racing. He had a fleeting image of Belinda standing at the curb, in jeans and a tank top and denim jacket, smiling, eyes shining with love, disheveled from the wind, telling him to hurry back. He imagined Glassman’s face, the expression of incredulity, disbelief followed by rage, when he told him.

He couldn’t do it.

   Rick took the news with bemusement, a touch of indifference, and some surprise. Mostly, it seemed, he wasn’t sure how he felt about moving. Jack assured him that it didn’t have to be done in a day or even a week. That seemed agreeable to Rick, who finally asked, “What’s she like?”

“Gorgeous,” Jack said, smiling.

“I guessed that already.”

“Well, she seems like a real tough cookie, but underneath she’s soft as a kitten. Smart, tough, and opinionated—too damn opinionated. And,” he added, remembering the movie
Splendor in the Grass
, “she’s a romantic—although you’d never guess, not for a while.” He realized he was smiling. He would never, ever have guessed, if they hadn’t watched that tear-jerker together.

His thoughts were filled with his wife and the time they had just spent together. He relived every moment. He wondered if it was too late—if he was falling in love with her, if he was already in love with her. He could barely wait to get back to Laguna Beach. And strangely, he felt relief, now that the charade and his plan for vengeance were over.

His agent, Sanderson, called, catching him just as he was about to walk out the door—to her.

“Jack, brace yourself.”

He tensed. “What’s up?”

“There’s an article in
The Star
about you. It’s called ‘My Life as an Escort.’ ”

The feeling that plummeted to his intestines was sick
and heavy and dread-filled. “You’d better read it, Jack. And call your lawyer. We’ll sue the lousy pricks.”

Jack hung up. He didn’t have to read it. He knew what the article said.

And he knew who had planted it.

   “If you want to see Mr. Glassman, you will have to call for an appointment,” his secretary said firmly, big breasts heaving in indignation that he should attempt to storm the fortress.

He ignored her, walked past, heard her protesting, heard her calling security. He opened the door. Glassman was on the phone, cigar in his mouth. He looked up, froze, said, “Hold on, will you?” and put his caller on hold. He leaned back, looking very amused. Jack shut the door behind him and came forward, smiling tightly.

“Well, well,” Glassman said. “Another surprise visit? Don’t tell me you didn’t learn your place, boy? At the bottom of the garbage heap?”

Jack’s smile broadened. He said nothing.

Abe stopped smiling, his keen radar noting that his adversary was not afraid, nor was he angry—he was poised like a predator. Abe sat up. “What do you want? You’ve got about two minutes before security comes and throws you out.”

“I want,” Jack said slowly, “congratulations.”

Abe stared, then gave a short bark of laughter. “For what? Shortest career in history?”

“For my marriage.”

Abe’s gaze was penetrating.

“To your daughter.” Jack smiled. He laughed.

Abe lunged to his feet.
“What?”

Jack laughed again. “How do you feel about having a grandson with the last name of Ford? Because you can bet we’ve been working on it.”

“You little cocksucker!” Abe roared. “I don’t know how you did it, but I’ll undo it—before you can even blink!”

“What’s wrong, Glassman?” Jack taunted. “Or should I call you Abe? No wait—Dad?”

“You have a lot of balls,” Abe yelled, “to dare to use my daughter to get at me.”

Jack laughed coldly. “It was a stroke of genius, wasn’t it? I knew there had to be some way I could avenge myself. Appropriate, wouldn’t you say?”

“You think you can win? Beat me? You think I’ll stand for this? You stupid bastard! I don’t know how you did it, but your marriage is over before it even begins—I can guarantee that.”

Jack laughed. “How does it feel? How does it feel to have your enemy as a son-in-law? Huh? How does it feel, you fucking bastard? And I’ll never agree to a divorce—never. You’re stuck with me until the day you die.” He was snarling.

“We’ll see!” Abe growled back. “How could Belinda be such a fool to let herself be conned by you?”

“Does it really matter?” Jack asked. “And if you think you’re going to have your thugs work me over again, think twice. My lawyer still has that letter telling everything, only now it’s been updated. If I go, I’m taking you with me—old man.”

“Get out!” Abe roared. “Get out while you can. But if you think I’ll give Belinda a single penny while she’s married to you, you’re wrong. She gets nothing! Nothing! If she has your son—
he
gets nothing. Not one fucking penny!”

“How does it feel to lose?” Jack said brutally, and then he walked out.

But the elation he had felt in his fantasy of this moment of triumph did not surge forth.

Instead he felt sick.

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