My Wife's Li'l Secret (25 page)

The night before the trial,  I plagued with bad dreams. Nightmares, actually.

Olga was swimming in the hotel pool. She was no longer in prison!

Cruikshank was wearing my towel and standing on the balcony of my hotel room, smoking one of Girly’s cigars.

Then Cruikshank, Olga, and I were in one of those terror-filled roller-coaster rides. Just the three of us. I overhear Cruikshank and Olga plotting to shove me off it during the ride.

Then Bradley and Cruikshank are having drinks. Without me.

“I’m handling Cruikshank’s case,” Bradley tells me, his arm around Cruikshank. “He doesn’t have to pay me because friends help each other out.”

I awoke to find myself drenched in sweat.

I rushed to take a shower, then dressed. I was so nervous about the outcome of the court case, you’d think I was on trial. I skipped breakfast and arrived early at the courtroom.

Olga shuffled in, looking rail-thin and nervous, her protruding eyes darting all over the place. Like a drug addict.

“My attorney says I have a good case,” she whispered to me, then wriggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, okay, that’s good,” I said. “Great to hear that.”

“Did you see Cruikshank?”

“Shh!” someone said, and she shut up.

Bradley sat next to Olga’s Balinese attorney, Mr. Khan, and basically instructed him on how to proceed.

Mr. Khan appeared very eager to take his orders from Bradley and did as he was told. The scary part was, the entire session was held in Indonesian, which meant that none of us, except Olga’s attorney, understood what was being said.

Olga kept looking at me, mouthing, “Tell them I’m Olga, not Nadia. Tell them!”

I nodded but said nothing.

Ten minutes into the proceedings, the judge stood up and began to leave. The bailiffs moved toward Olga.

I turned to Bradley. “What’s going…?”

Olga looked equally confused. “What’s going on?” she demanded from Khan.

Mr. Khan began talking softly to Olga.

“What happened?” I asked Bradley. “Did they postpone?”

Bradley shook his head. “Trial’s over. They sentenced her to fifteen years.”

My jaw dropped. “That quickly?”

“You bastard!” Olga’s scream pieced the room. “You did this! You dog! Vlad and I will get you. I will never rest until I get you. Your death will be painful. I will bury you alive, you motherfucking –”

The bailiff grabbed her and swung her around, his baton raised. That shut her up.

So shocked was I, I didn’t even get a chance to gloat.

Or give her the finger.

Damn
!

****

Three hours later, to my utter joy, Cruikshank received a nineteen-year prison sentence.

My day was getting better by the moment.

I was ready to leave Bali. But before I did, I had one last person to visit – Cruikshank.

A shackled and cuffed Cruikshank shuffled over to me in a white, collarless cotton shirt and three-quarter beige cotton pants. At first, I didn’t recognize him. He had lost a tremendous amount weight, his hair was shaved, and the bones of his face stood out. He looked like an AIDS patient.

I guess a lack of fine whisky and expensive restaurant meals paid for with my credit card would result in such a dramatic weight loss.

He sported a wary look as he took a seat across from me.

“How you doing, mate?” I asked in a mocking voice. “Heard you’ve been shitting your pants? Huh?”

His eyes narrowed.

“You should request for one of those big diapers. But then again, with your shaven head, they may start mistaking you for Ghandi.” I slapped the table as I guffawed.

“You going to get me a Ukrainian attorney or what? I want to appeal.”

I shook my head and leaned in to whisper, “I’m doing fuck all for you.” I smiled when his lips thinned.

“You did this to us,” he said in a low growl.

“Did what? Everybody keeps saying that. I wish people would explain –”

“You planted the drugs. I didn’t have drugs.
You
did it.”

What I wanted to say was
Yes, you cockhead, I set you up
. But I couldn’t for obvious reasons. So I did the next best thing. I gave him a cat-got-the-cream grin, then winked.

His breathing became erratic and his nostrils grew large.

“I know that if you could," I said, "you would wrap your girlie hands around my neck and try to choke the shit out of me. Right?”

He didn’t answer, but his nostrils grew so big, he looked like he had four eyes, two of them missing eyeballs.

“But don’t worry, Aristov is probably going to get you out. Use his connections, pull some strings, and get you out of here? Right, my
friend
?”

“Aristov is dead, you bastard. You know that already. He. Is. Dead.”

For a few seconds he squinted at me. Then he leaned forward and looked me in the eye. “I think you did it. You killed him.”

My jaw dropped.

I looked behind me, then pointed my index finger at my chest, my eyebrows raised.

He nodded slowly.

With a grin, I threw out my hands. “You give me way too much credit, Cruik.” Then I leaned in again and whispered, “You and your whore are going to be here for fifteen years or more, while I’m out there having fun. And when you come out of here, the cops are waiting to interrogate you about the death of Viggo. That’s
life
imprisonment.” My grin grew wide as I stood up.

All he could do was stare as I confirmed his suspicions.

“By the way, Nadia, she says ‘Fuck you!’ She’s really happy to live freely without you and your whore running her life. She did this,” with a smile, I stuck up my middle finger at him.

He jerked back in his seat. “Nadia? She said that?”

I nodded. “Sure did.”

He squinted at me, a look of disbelief on his face. “Nadia?”

"Baby Gareth’s mother.”

He stared, speechless.

“I know
everything
. Think I don’t know? I found out. You fucked with the wrong guy, Cruik, ’cause the thing about me, you should know…I fuck back.”

Leaving him staring after me like the bald, bug-eyed cretin he was, I turned and walked out of the prison and in to a waiting cab.

As we drove toward the hotel, my sister called.

When I told her the good news, the lengthy sentences for both of them, she was ecstatic.

“Wow! But can she contest the GPOA later? Say it was fraudulently obtained?”

“Yeah, sure, but from within her jail cell. When she is released from prison, the kids will be old enough to handle her and her petitions. If she bothers to come after them, that is.”

“Okay, but don’t get too complacent. She could be suddenly pardoned and released. It’s happened before.”

“Yeah, I know, and that will always be my worry.”

“But we will fight it, Ritchie. You aren’t alone. Brad obtained her signature, not you. He has so much to lose if the shit hits the fan.”

“True. But with Brad on my side, I feel safer when it comes to the kids.”

“We owe him,” Arena said.

“We sure do. Big, big time.”

“When are you coming home?”

“I’m coming home now.”

It sure felt good to say that.

“But I feel like getting wasted first.”

She laughed. “Hurry up, you have a wedding to plan. I’ve done some planning, too. Lined up a bakery for the cake, enquired about some garden equipment we may need for the ceremony…it’s all happening.

“Sweet!”

Back at the hotel, I slammed a few whiskies, packed, and left Bali.

Brad and Scarlet stayed a few days longer.

On the plane I ordered more whisky, and by the time I got to Sydney, I was wasted, but happy.

In fact, knowing that I could finally live in peace without Olga and Cruikshank’s hold on me, without Aristov’s terrorizing, knowing that Nadia and Gareth was safe, knowing my daughters couldn't be taken from me for a long time, made me feel like singing.

I asked the cab driver to stop on the way. I picked up orange juice, M&Ms, and cigars, then headed to my castle.

“They won’t be coming back,” I said to Girly as I handed her the cigars.

“No?”

I shook my head. “They’re gone. It’s just you and me with the kids now.”

After a few moments of appearing thoughtful, she shook her head. “She’s coming back.”

“Nah!” I said. “Trust me.”

“Trust
me
,” she said before she walked away, leaving me staring after her.

I didn’t know what to think. But after a while, I decided not to worry. I would handle whatever came my way, I told myself. With Liefie by my side, I could take on anything and anybody.

The moment I arrived in Sydney, Bradley and I swung into action. I filed for divorce, transferred all our assets into my name, and petitioned the court for full custody. I focused solely on my marital affairs and worked late into the night with Bradley to speed things up.

As Bradley explained, Nadia and I could live as husband and wife, which was the plan, but I didn’t know if I could really trust her.

What if she wasn’t really an innocent party in this whole sordid business? She was legally a Ukraine National, which meant she could up and leave Sydney anytime with my girls. Sure, I could fight her, but what a battle I would have.

So on paper, I was in charge, had full control of all my affairs, and was almost untouchable, thanks to Bradley Murdoch. On paper.

After the wringer I had been put through, I didn’t have the energy to fight anyone. I felt exhausted and burned out. I longed for peace and quiet, routine, eight hours of sleep, and even the luxury of being bored.

All that aside, I was super excited to call Nadia and give her the good news. She could return home, and we are going to be a family again. I couldn’t wait to make that call.

****

“Liefie?”

“Yeah…?”

“It’s me, honey. Time for you to come home. I’m booking you on the next flight to Sydney, baby.”

She let out an ear-splitting scream, which resulted in Gareth screaming.

“I waited and waited for this call!” she said when she had calmed down. “I can’t believe it. It’s happening. I can’t believe it!”

“For sure, for sure.” I filled her in on Cruikshank and Olga’s sentencing.

The line went silent.

“Lief?”

“Ritchie…are you…Ritchie, are you serious?”

“Dead serious, Lief. My only concern is that Russian attorney in Sydney. Aristov’s nephew, or something.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about him. He was a victim too. My guess is that he will be only too happy to be free of Aristov.”

“Really? Well, that’s good then. Really good. Hey, did you buy your wedding dress?”

“I did, I did, I did! You have to see it. It’s so lovely, Ritchie. It has crystals on the bodice and the veil…and I bought little white dresses for the girls – for the flower girls. And I got a lovely dress for Arena as well, and…”

I let her ramble on about her wedding dress for a few minutes and basked in her excitement.

“You there, Ritchie?”

“I’m here. Always here.”

“This is…this is…” She sniffed loudly. “To hear you say that…I’m so happy, I don’t know what to—”

“Better pack then. Stop crying and prepare to come home.”

“I’m already packed.”

“Great!”

“I was thinking, let’s get married on the 22 of November,” she said. “How ’bout it? It’s a Saturday, and the weather, it’ll be just right, and then –”

“Absolutely. Anything you want.”

“Great!” she said. “That’s awesome! I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I!”

“Ritchie?”

“Yes, Liefie?”

“I love you,” she said in a voice dripping with adoration.

“I love you too.”

“Hey, Army wants to talk to you?”

“Sure!” I said. “Give her the phone.”

“Howzit,
boet
?” Army said.

“
Lekker
, Army. How are you?”

“Ya, I’m okay. Congratulations. Heard Liefie say you’re getting buckled.”

“Ya, ya!” I said. “Soon. Small wedding, just the family,” I hastened to add. “Renewing our vows. Start afresh, you know…”

“Ya, ya! Well, let me know if you need some heavy artillery for the wedding. You know, to keep out the Aborigines and the Asians. Heard they’re taking over in Australia. Hannetjie and me, we can provide security if you like. I can smuggle in a couple of AKs.”

That loud gasp I heard in the background had to have come from Liefie.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll let you know, Army,” I said. Good luck to anyone wanting to drill sense into her.

After I hung up, I sat and stared into space. Liefie and I were going to get our life back and our happy ending. Soon it would be like none of this happened. Was there a rainbow outside, I wondered? There ought to be one. Maybe even two.

****

My dream that night was fragmented, strange. Liefie and I were having sex in my old bedroom, in my defiled bed. The one I had shunned. Yet, I seemed strangely comfortable and at ease in my surroundings.

In my dream, Liefie feels great under me, her body pliant and yielding as usual.

“This feels fantastic,” I say as I drape her thighs over my shoulders and bury my shaft deep into her silkiness.

“Best ever,” she says, and raises her hips to mine like we're clinking glasses of Verve Cliquot. “God, I missed this.”

After a few moments of vigorous pumping on my part, she wriggles out from under me. “Swap!” she commands, rolling her index finger in the air.

I oblige and flop on my back while she straddles me, planting her palms on my chest for leverage. She bobs up and down, moves from side-to-side, fast, slow, fast, very slow, then fast again, her breasts flying around.

I cup her arse hard and grind her to me, inching deeper into her.

She leans in and slides her arms around my head, the muscles of her pussy gripping my shaft, her nipples brushing against my chest.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you too,” she returns and kisses me. “But I need to come, baby,” she whispers between wet kisses.

“Yeah? Okay then,” I say, and I shove her back. She leans right back, placing her hands behind her, allowing a glimpse of me fusing with her. I’m so turned on by the sight, I thrust harder into her, syncing with her rhythm. With a loud groan she comes – a whimpering, shuddering heap on top of me.

Then it’s my turn – I pump so hard, I lift her into the air before I burst inside her. We lie spent in a tangled, slick mound.

“Wow!” I say, moving her hair away from her face.

Like she always did, she smiles and gently kisses my lips several times. Instead of rolling off me and preparing to spoon like we usually do, she jumps off me and begins to dress.

“Where you going?” I ask, frowning at the sight of her slipping on sexy black panties, a black see-through bra that shows of most of her tits, and suspenders. Sexy stuff.

“To Aristov’s,” she says, walking up to the mirror and putting on some bright red lipstick.

She peers at her face in the mirror.

“What do you mean?” I demand.

She looks at me in the mirror and says, “Once a week I have to have sex with Aristov. To keep him happy, remember? Been doing that for years.”

“Whaaat?!” I bolt upright and stare at her in disbelief.

“Relax, Ritchie,” she says as she slips on a pair of stilettos. “It’s all gonna be okay, remember?”

“No, it ISN’T!” I yell. “You’re my fucking wife!”

She whirls around to glare at me. “Don’t you yell at me!” she says, one hand on her hip, pointing at me with her other hand.

“Yeah, well you seem so at ease with this whole thing. Like you…you…
enjoy
it!” My voice is rich with a mixture of disgust, disbelief, and anger.

“Why are you complaining? She asks as she sashays over to me, still half naked. “Aren’t I great in bed? Huh?” She bats her eyelashes a couple of times. “Don’t I always come up with new moves for you, keep things…fresh in the bedroom? Where do you think I learn all that from?”

“Please don’t say that. Please don’t! Please don’t!”

Her eyes turn granite and as she stands above me, arms akimbo, suddenly it’s Olga smiling mockingly down at me, not Liefie. “We have Aristov to thank for our amazing sex life, Riiitchie. He keeps up to date with the latest fuck trends and passes it onto us, hon. We do weekly
refresher
courses
!” She throws her head back and laughs.

At the sight of Olga in front of me, I shrink back in my bed, assailed by disgust and horror. “Who did I just fuck?” I demand. “Are you Liefie or Olga? Tell me.”

Her smile turns coy. “Take a guess,” she says as her hand travels slowly down her neck, over her breast and rests lightly between her legs. “Get it right and I will let you join us tonight. You can watch or participate; it’s up to you.”

I roll my body away from her, my lips curling in contempt. “You…you’re Olga! You’re dirty, filthy!”

“Wrong!” she says with a laugh. “I’m Naha...dia!”

“You…you…” Distaste and revulsion overwhelm me. “Nadia…no, no, no! Jayzus! You didn’t even take a shower.”

She lifts and drops her shoulders. “Aristov won’t know. So many times I didn’t shower after being with him and I came straight to you.” With a smile on her face she makes a spraying gesture. “Perfume! You couldn’t tell.”

I put both hands on my head. “I…I can’t do this anymore! Please let this be a dream. I can’t do this!”

“Oh, c’mon!” she says as she climbs on the bed and does a slow, supposedly sexy cat-crawl toward me.

“I can't do this anymore!” I scream, trying to burrow into my bedroom wall, blinded by rage. “Get out!”

“C’mon, you know you want me,” she purrs as she continues moving toward me.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE I HURT YOU!”

“Pig! Pig! Pig, wake up!”

I opened my eyes and stared into Girly’s sleepy face. “Wha…?” I looked around me. It was all a dream.

“You scream. You wake children up.”

“Oh, eh, sorry,” I muttered.

“You want water?” she asked in a gentle voice.

I shook my head. “Go to bed. It’s okay. Thanks.”

She nodded, then shuffled out of my room.

I jumped out of bed and paced in the dark, my heart slamming in my chest.

The dream was so real, and Liefie was so matter-of-fact about it. In fact, she seemed
anxious
to get to him. I think that was what troubled me the most – her wholehearted acceptance of the situation, as if she looked forward to it. I looked at the wall clock—2:52 a.m.

It’s just a dream! Just a dream! Just a fucking dream, Ritchie. Get over it!

It took me two hours to fall asleep again, and I changed positions to avoid falling back into the dream. That nightmare. The dream troubled me so much, I was quiet the entire day.

The next evening I did not dream about Liefie.

I dreamed about Aristov. He and I are at a campfire, and he is regaling me and a number of guys about his escapades with women.

“She knew nothing about pleasing me,” he explains. “I took her hand and showed her how.” He pats his groin, a lewd smile on his face. “She got really good very quickly.”

He’s talking about Liefie! He’s talking about my wife, the bastard!

“I’m not a selfish man, I shared, gave all my men a sample of her.” He looks around at his morons. “How was she? Good, right? Tell us, tell us!”

“You’re talking about my wife!” I finally yell, jumping to my feet.

“Okay then,
you
tell us how she was,” Aristov says.

“She was great,” I say. “Amazing, in fact. She…she came alive in bed.”

Suddenly I cross my arms and place my face over them and start to cry. “Please don’t say those things about her,” I sob. “I love her. She’s my wife. The mother of my children. Please don’t say those things about her.”

“You’re a pig! Pig! Pig!” the men say.

My body starts to shake. “I’m not!”

“You’re a pig! Pig! Pig!”

“Pig, wake up!”

My eyes flew open and I looked into Girly’s face.

It was just a dream.

“I’m okay,” I muttered to Girly before once again sending her off to bed.

Like someone picking at a scab and watching it bleed, I lay in the dark and combed through my dream, trying to remember every bit of it, and each time I did, I bled pain and anguish.

I loved Liefie so much, it broke my heart that her past was fast forming a solid, six-foot retaining wall between us.

Again, I couldn’t fall asleep, but I didn’t mind – who wants to go to sleep knowing what nightmares and disturbing dreams await them?

I didn’t need bad dreams – I was living one.