Sleeping with the Frenemy (9 page)

Tears kept falling from her eyes even though she continued wiping them away with a tissue. When a drop splashed on her wedding picture, Genevieve wiped her palm over the plastic covering. During the four-hour drive, she had flipped through her wedding album and cried uncontrollably as she remembered the day she and her Deborah had been so happy and in love.

“Oh, my dearest, how I miss you so,” Genevieve whispered and took out the picture of her and Deborah kissing behind their wedding cake.

It had been two weeks since she lost her Deborah. She left Las Vegas and drove back home after she received the phone call from the police saying Deborah had driven their car off a ravine. When she finally returned home, Teresa was sobbing and Gilberto held her, both dark faces pale. The two detectives were polite but distant, as if they had told family members many times before about the death of loved ones. When she declared they were mistaken, that Deborah would never do such a thing, they showed her the suicide note found near the bedside table. She grabbed the letter out of their hands and barely read the words as her eyes went blurry. She then crumbled to the floor, allowing the darkness to overtake her.

Now she sat in the car in the parking lot with the dreaded duty of telling Deborah's sick mother that her daughter had committed suicide. Genevieve pulled down the visor, wincing at her bloodshot eyes and splotchy face. She looked a mess, tired from lack of sleep. The only way she could sleep was by taking sleeping pills, since she didn't have Deborah lying next to her where she could hold her close and rub against her, whispering how much she loved her.

How would she ever go on without the only woman she loved with her entire heart and soul?

“Mrs. Murnay?” Gilberto's voice came through the speaker in front of her. “We've been sitting here for almost an hour. Visiting hours will be over soon.”

Genevieve curled her lip. If she wanted to sit here all afternoon, she had the right! No servant from some underdeveloped country would tell her what to do.

Her nails cut into her palms as she inhaled deeply before she ended up yelling at Gilberto. She'd let his indiscretion pass since he too was mourning the loss of his mistress and had been unbelievably shaken by what had happened, placing the blame on himself.

“Give me three more minutes to pull myself together,” she said to him, pressing her finger over the button for him to hear her. He gave her a muffled yes, then the line cut off.

Pulling back her shoulders, Genevieve closed her wedding album and placed it on the seat next to her. She opened her bag, pulled out Deborah's suicide letter, and held it up to her face. She rubbed it against her cheek, swearing it had Deborah's scent. It didn't smell like her at all. Placing the letter on her lap, she pulled on her new gold necklace with Deborah's wedding ring attached to it. She brushed a thumb over the diamond-encrusted band and kissed it.

When the back door opened, Genevieve nodded at Gilberto and got out of the car. She put on her sunglasses and tugged down the hem of her knee-length, linen sleeveless sundress, one Deborah had loved on her, and walked up the front steps and into the building.

A few patients in wheelchairs sat next to groups of people, as well as some with canes, walking down the hall with the aid of the nurses. Genevieve gave them no mind as she walked up to the front desk. Two women sat, one on the phone while the other typed swiftly over a computer keyboard. When Genevieve cleared her throat loudly, the older, stocky-looking woman with salt-and-pepper hair glanced up from the monitor.

Genevieve nodded and smiled the best she could, even though her lips trembled. “Good day, I'm here to see a patient. Her name is Cora Whilby.”

The nurse's brow wrinkled and she shared a look with the younger, black-haired nurse who hung up the phone. “And you are?” the nurse asked.

“Mrs. Whilby is my mother-in-law. I'm here to tell her news regarding her daughter.” She swiped a finger under her right eye to stop the flow of tears.

The older nurse with the name tag Fiona gave her a melancholy look. “Um…please wait right here while I get the doctor.”

She turned and walked away before Genevieve could speak and her temper grew. She was footing the bill here and there was no excuse for her to be left alone the way she was. She glanced down at the other nurse and tapped her fingers on the desk. “I've traveled all this way to talk to Mrs. Whilby in person about her daughter's death. I don't understand why I can't just go straight to her room.”

“Did you say her da-daughter's
death
?” The young nurse stammered in surprise.

“Ye-yes. Didn't you hear what I ju-just said?” Genevieve mocked the little nurse, her anger growing further by the moment.

“
Ohhh
…this is an unfortunate coincidence. It's probably best if you wait for Dr. Vernon to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Genevieve snapped and took off her sunglasses.

“Mrs. Murnay?”

Genevieve turned toward the familiar voice. Dr. Shane Vernon held out a hand toward her, which she took. The first time she met the fifty-something doctor with the amazing bedroom eyes and fetching smile, Genevieve felt a tug low in her stomach. She thought for a brief second about having a fling with the doctor, but since she was faithful to Deborah, she'd never do such a thing. The benefit after her interactions with Vernon was that she went home to her wife, who helped ease her frustrations with her wonderful mouth and hands.

“Hello, Dr. Vernon. I wish I could say it's a pleasure seeing you again, but I have unfortunate news to tell Cora about Deborah.” Genevieve covered her mouth and turned her face to the side. “My-my wife passed away a few days ago. I'm here to tell her mother about it.”

When Vernon took both her hands in his, she dropped her head, hoping he would hold her close in his brawny arms. He didn't, but simply squeezed her hands, finally releasing her. “If you follow me, I'll take you to Mrs. Whilby's room. We can talk there.”

Genevieve found it odd the way Vernon recommended they go to her room rather than say they'd speak with Cora. She followed by his side as he held out an arm behind her back.

“I hate to tell you even more bad news, since you look like you've barely recovered from what has happen to you wife. I'm so sorry for your loss.” Vernon patted her back and Genevieve nodded, weeping silently as he gave her his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes, and as they took the elevator up to the fifth floor, she almost pulled him in close, but didn't since they were joined by another doctor and nurse.

“Dr. Vernon, I have the strange feeling you have something more to tell me regarding Cora,” Genevieve said as she finished her crying fit.

When the elevator doors opened this time, Vernon took her arm. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but since I was Mrs. Whilby's main doctor, it's my responsibility to tell you she passed away late last night. We were in the process of calling you when you suddenly arrived.”

They stopped in front of the doorway of the room where Cora had stayed. A chunky black nurse was making the bed. Nothing of Cora's remained in the room.

“This is a shock,” Genevieve said wearily and leaned against the

doorway.

Vernon folded his hands in front of him. “I thought perhaps someone here called you, and that was why you came. Such a shame that mother and daughter died within days of one another. Was she ill?”

Genevieve shook her head and hugged an arm around her waist. “She had an accident. She drowned.”

“Oh my dear, Mrs. Murnay, my deepest condolences,” he said and rested his hand on her shoulder. Genevieve gave him a shy smile.

“At least we know they're both in a better place. It's…I miss my beautiful wife so much,” Genevieve said in a hoarse whisper and wrapped her arms around the man.

“Right now it's painful, but it will pass,” Vernon assured above her head and patted her back.

Genevieve held him tightly, wanting to forget her pain and lose herself in a warm body. Vernon's manly scent, with a slight smell of mint, rose over her face and her nipples grew hard. It had been so long since she had a reaction to a man. She should feel horrible, debasing Deborah's memory, but needed the comfort.

“You're such a kind man,” Genevieve whispered and pulled away, wiping her face. She caught the large nurse rolling her eyes, and Genevieve bit her lip, restraining herself from putting the ugly woman in her place.

When Vernon's face grew flush, Genevieve smiled up at him and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“You'll be happy to know before Miss Cora's death, her son came to see her,” the nurse revealed as she walked over to them. “I'd never seen the woman so happy and energetic. That son of hers was such a nice young man. So polite and considerate to his mother's needs.”

The room seemed to spin before Genevieve's eyes.
Son? What the fuck?

“Excuse me, you must be mistaken. Cora didn't have a son, only a daughter, Deborah, my wife.”

“I know who I saw and heard. I even talked to the man.” The nurse placed her hands on her broad hips and tapped her foot. “His name is Wade and he comes from Woodberry Creek, Georgia, a place I know very well since my family is from there. He spent a few hours with Cora and she even introduced him as her son.”

“Mrs. Murnay, are you well?” Vernon asked as he rubbed her arm.

Black spots appeared in front of her eyes. “Why wasn't I told this Wade had come for a visit?” she asked quietly.

“I believe your wife called to give the okay for her brother to be on the visitor's list.”

Something is very wrong here. Deborah would've told me if—

A loud ringing reverberated in her ear and she glanced between the two standing before her. “Can you tell me what Wade looked like?”

The nurse scratched under her chin. “He was a skinny thing, wearing blue jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a blue baseball cap. I also found it strange he wore a jean jacket in this heat. His hair was black and short.” The nurse snapped her fingers. “He had a nice smile and even with his scruff on his face, he had the cutest little mole near the corner of his mouth.” She pointed to her mouth where the mole would be.

Genevieve grabbed hold of the doctor's arm and squeezed. The mole
Wade
had was in the same area as Deborah's.

“Do-do you remember what Cora and Wade talked about?” Genevieve asked the woman, her chest heaving as she put two and two together.

“Well, other than him mentioning returning to his home, he told Cora a Sharon Wade would be waiting for him. Funny how the boy has a sweetheart with the same last name as his first.”

Genevieve gritted her teeth and shook her head as the ringing grew to a sharp whistle. When Vernon spoke to her, she couldn't hear a word he said.

Deborah didn't have a brother.
She had lied…lied…she LIED
.

Did that mean she wasn't really dead? Her body still hadn't been found—

“Mrs. Murnay!”

Genevieve snapped out of her thoughts and looked at the doctor, who held both her arms.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Your face has become very red and your pulse is racing. Do you want to sit down? Michelle can get you a glass of water.”

Genevieve moved away and fisted her hands together, her body seething in rage. She had been made a fool of by her lying, cunning wife.

“I need to leave. I just remembered something important.”

Both the doctor and nurse called out her name, but Genevieve didn't stop and ran toward the elevator. The doors opened immediately and she got in alone. Once the doors closed, she banged her fist against the wall.

That deceitful cunt had tricked her!

By the time the elevator doors opened, Genevieve had composed herself as she walked down the hall. When her cell phone went off, she almost didn't answer, but when the number popped up from one of the detectives on Deborah's case, she answered.

“Hello, Detective Penning,” she replied smoothly, hoping he told her they found Deborah's body. If they didn't, she would know then that Deborah was still alive.

“Hello, Mrs. Murnay. We have news about your wife's possible drowning. The car has been located. I'd rather we talk in person—”

“I'm not near my home. I've gone to tell my wife's mother she's dead. I'm four hours away,” she said as she walked out the building and toward her car.

“Perhaps it's better if you hurry back soon. When we pulled out the car, we found something of interest.”

“What is it?” she asked in a hurried voice and barely acknowledged Gilberto when he held open the door for her to get in.

“A long gold necklace with a diamond attached. We were expecting to find the body, but it seems to have vanished. Your wife's body could have been pulled out from the force of the water since the windows were broken.”

Gilberto's voice came through the speaker, asking her if they should drive. She turned off the speaker as she listened to the detective talk. When the conversation ended with her promising to see him as soon as she returned home, Genevieve opened the wedding album and proceeded to tear the pictures into little pieces until only one remained—of her and Deborah staring at one another with love in their eyes.

The next thing she planned to destroy was Deborah—when she found her. She would punish her for leaving her the way she did.

The honk from a car horn made Deborah walk over to her bedroom window as she fingered gel into her damp hair. Standing in only her bra and underwear, she watched as Bridgette, wearing a cute white sundress with her bright red curls wrapped in a white scarf, got into a police car. She hugged the driver, which had to be her brother Bryan, who had the almost same color shade of hair. The car drove away as Rotquel barked loudly from the front window. Bridgette's next-door neighbor, who gardened in the front of her house, shook her fist in the direction of the barking. Deborah laughed, and with one last tug on her hair, went over to her dresser to choose what she'd wear for the day.

She hadn't spoken to Bridgette since that time in her kitchen, although the redheaded pixie was constantly on her mind. In part, Deborah kept her distance because of the nightly erotic dreams about the woman that left her bed soaked from her sweat. Deborah flexed her hand, her wrist somewhat achy, most likely due to the amount of times she'd masturbated over the past few days. At least her sex dreams didn't wake her, shivering in fear from the last nightmare she had about being decapitated by some unknown figure.

Since she'd been so busy cleaning the house and going back and forth on foot in town with even more cleaning supplies and things she needed, she didn't have any time to check for more information online about her death or even call her mother to see how she was doing or if she had any visitors
.
Today she'd go back to the café and hop on a computer, then roam around Main Street and check out the street fair Bridgette had mentioned. Maybe she would purchase a few more nice outfits, other than her typical T-shirts and mundane capris and shorts she'd been wearing.

Pulling out a yellow T-shirt, the color she had to wear because Saturday was yellow day, she lifted up her arms to draw the shirt over her head. But Deborah stopped midway and dropped her arms, eyeing the T-shirt. She sent it flying, and it landed on the bedside lamp. She pulled out a dark red tank top instead.

When she was fully clothed and her hair and makeup was to her liking, she grabbed an oversized bag she bought yesterday. With the sky clear and the humidity and heat not as intense as it had been over the past week, Deborah had a feeling it would be a wonderful day.

* * * *

“I can't get enough of Oscar's pancakes,” Bryan said as he took one last bite off his plate.

“You're ignoring my question,” Bridgette pointed out as she took a sip of her coffee. “Your divorce is final after you and Angie sign the papers next week?”

Bryan rubbed the back of his neck and tapped his fork on the side of his plate. Bridgette reached across and placed her hand on his. His pinkie came over hers and he glanced back at her face, sadness lurking in his eyes.

“Yes. My selfish actions ruined my marriage of seven years.”

“Oh, Bry, stop beating yourself up about it. You couldn't—”

“Couldn't what? Stop from cheating on my wife, my college sweetheart who made a home for us? I've betrayed her trust and destroyed everything we had together. She can't bear to be around me knowing I was unfaithful and, to rub salt in her wound even more, with another man.” Bryan wiped his palm over his mouth. “I've lied to her the moment we first met by not being up front about my sexuality.”

Bridgette's heart ached for her brother, who'd been grappling with his homosexuality for so long. She had warned him not to get married to Angie, whom she loved having as a sister-in-law, but knew right from the start their marriage wouldn't last—all from Bryan being gay and his deep feelings for Russ, his best friend from high school.

“Russ should be here supporting you instead of gallivanting across Mexico for the summer. What a schmuck.” Bridgette said the last part under her breath.

“Red, don't blame Russ for what I did.” He held up his hand when she began to argue. “I know it takes two to tango, but I was the one who went to him that night and acted in a way no married man should. My lust got the better of me.”

Bridgette finished the rest of her coffee as Bryan's face became red. “By lust, you mean the feelings you've had for one another for years and were too stupid not to admit before you got married?”

“It exploded in more ways than one.” Bryan shook his head and pulled out his wallet when the waitress left the bill on the table.

“Hold up, I got this. I know you're low on cash from giving Ang the house and most of your savings. Next time, you treat,” Bridgette said.

Bridgette could hear Bryan grinding his teeth, and when she glanced to the right, a group of people were whispering to one another as they looked at them. She rolled her eyes. The small-town gossip mill was in full effect since it concerned the police chief's son and the offspring of Woodberry Creek's most respected judges.

“Ignore them,” Bridgette said and grabbed the bill. Bryan stood when she did and stared right at the people, who continued to whisper loudly. They stopped and stared at their menus as he passed.

“Any plans later on, after you get off work?” Bridgette asked as she paid the bill.

“Nope. I'm working a double. I don't really want to go home. I'm grateful Mom and Dad are letting me crash in my old bedroom until I can find a place to say, but I can't stand the way Dad looks at me sometimes. I know he's upset.”

“From your finally coming out?” Bridgette asked softly. She found that surprising, since their father was a very open-minded man.

“It's not that.” Bryan held open the door as they left the restaurant. “He's more upset that I cheated on Ang, and that I was never honest with myself and with them. He said he didn't raise his son to be a liar.”

Bridget winced and wrapped her arm around her brother's waist. “Give it time. Something else shocking will happen and you'll be soon forgotten.”

“Hopefully one of the high school football players will run naked through the town square like they did during last year's fireworks.”

Bridgette smiled. “Maybe that's something we can look forward to tonight when—”

Bridgette noticed Sharon coming out of the dress shop, holding two bags and walking down the sidewalk. She cupped her hands around her mouth, calling out Sharon's name. She waited for Sharon to turn, but she didn't. She acted as if she hadn't heard her name and Bridgette called out again.

“Sharon!” Bridgette yelled louder. People turned in her direction, while Sharon continued walking and went into the hardware store.

“That's so odd,” she muttered and took a step to cross the street when she was tugged back.

“Red, who were you calling out to?” Bryan asked.

“Sharon Wade. She lives across the street from me. She just moved in a few days ago thanks to Aunt Sandy, who she's renting from. Sharon's a little shy. I don't know why she didn't hear me when I yelled her name.” Bridgette wiggled her nose, ready to catch up with Sharon in the store. Maybe she'd want to walk around town with her, and they could go to the dance together.

Bryan rested his arm around her shoulders as they walked over to where his car was parked. “Go have your fun with your new friend.” He winked. “I'm on duty in ten minutes.”

“I hope to have a great day of fun with my new friend,” Bridgette replied saucily and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Bryan chuckled and unlocked his car door.

“Take care. Love you, Red.”

“Love you back,” Bridgette replied and kissed him on his cheek.

She waved as he drove away and hurried into the hardware store to catch Sharon.

You won't escape me for much longer.
Bridgette giggled over that thought and when she spotted Sharon in the paint aisle, she walked toward her with a skip in her step.

* * * *

Deborah dropped down on her heels as she found the can of paint she'd been searching for. The kitchen walls were in desperate need of a new coat, as did her bedroom. She decided on a nice mauve color that would go well with her dishes, and also the sheets and comforter she wanted to buy the next time she went out.

“Are we doomed to continue meeting in the aisles of stores? First tampons, now paint?”

Deborah almost fell on her ass as the familiar girlish voice spoke above her. She glanced up at Bridgette, who was close enough that her knee brushed her cheek. Deborah stood as her own knees cracked, holding the can of paint against her chest, and moved back an inch to give her more space.

“A funny coincidence?” Deborah asked as she looked down at the top of the paint can.

“Not really. I saw you walking and called out your name. You didn't even hear me, which I found odd, so I decided to follow you in here.” Bridgette smiled widely and tilted her head.

Shit. I have to remember my new name.
“I guess I didn't hear you. I was lost in my own thoughts,” she explained.

Bridgette gave her a not-so-subtle disbelieving look. “Sure, it was crowded outside.” She pointed at the two bags at her feet. “What did you buy?”

“A dress.” Deborah licked her lips. “And a few other items. My wardrobe is very lacking. I have far too many casual clothes. There was this lovely purple-and-white polka-dot halter dress in the window that I tried on. They had my size and since it was on sale, I went ahead and bought it.”

“Oh yeah. That's been in the window for a while. It's not really my style. A bit too vintage for my taste.”

Deborah laughed and shook her head. She'd thought Bridgette would be the perfect candidate for the dress. But if what she wore now was any indication, she was mistaken. The dress Bridgette wore showed off a slight bulging around her stomach area. For some reason it didn't turn Deborah off, but actually quite the opposite, especially with the bodice of her sundress straining across her chest.

“What? Did I spill something on me?” Bridgette asked and swiped her hands down her front.

Deborah watched Bridgette's hands move over her body, and cleared her throat. She looked away and hefted the paint can up higher under one arm while she reached over to grab her bags with the other.

“Here, let me help you.” Bridgette grabbed the can, her arm brushing past Deborah's chest, right across her nipples that had grown into hard nubs. Deborah turned slightly to cover her body's reaction and took her bags.

“Thanks,” Deborah told Bridgette and walked over to the line to pay.

“You're going to paint something?” Bridgette asked in a slight teasing voice.

“Yes. I'm going to paint my kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. That's the plan I have for the next few days.”

“Need help? I'm quite the skilled painter,” Bridgette said as she placed the can on the counter.

Before Deborah could respond, the woman behind the counter rang them up. She chatted with Bridgette in a very friendly manner while Deborah watched in silence. The way Bridgette talked—flirted—with the woman wearing the tight T-shirt that showed a slip of her toned stomach had Deborah wondering if she and Bridgette once dated.

After Deborah paid for the paint, she didn't wait for Bridgette to finish her conversation. She had just reached the front door when Bridgette came up behind her.

“Wait up. Where's the rush?” Bridgette said, slightly out of breath.

Deborah walked outside and gave Bridgette a blank stare. “You looked pretty friendly with the woman behind the counter. I didn't want to interrupt, since I have more errands to run.”

Bridgette bit her lip and scratched her shoulder. Deborah had the insane urge to flick Bridgette's lip, but couldn't since her arms were full.

“Tammy and I used to date when I was in college. She's now in a committed relationship with her girlfriend of five years. I'm not attracted to her in the way you may be thinking,” Bridgette said softly, her mouth tilting and her eyes glowing.

Deborah cleared her throat in embarrassment over her jealous reaction. She waited for Bridgette to call her out on it, but she didn't. Instead, she took the paint can from her.

“So where are we off to now?” Bridgette asked as if the conversation never happened.

“You must have other things you want to do than tag along with me.”

“Nope. Nothing at all. I'd rather give you a tour of my town,” Bridgette replied and poked her elbow lightly into Deborah's side.

“Um, well…I was going to check my e-mail at the café down the street and get a cup of coffee.”

“Check your e-mail? Don't you have Internet hooked up yet? I thought that would be one of the first things you'd do because of your job.”

Deborah quickly scanned her memory to remember what she'd told Bridgette what she did for a living. When it came to her, she remained composed, although Bridgette stared at her in suspicion.

“My Internet installation has been scheduled for Monday. My clients know I'm taking time off to get settled in my new home.”

“Wow, no Internet yet? I bet you don't have cable either. How are you keeping busy and not dying from the boredom?” Bridgette asked as they started walking toward the café.

“Cleaning and fixing up the house, of course.” Deborah replied. “Now that I think of it, I don't have to check my e-mail. I can just go back home with my stuff while you continue to—”

“No can do, Sharon.” Bridgette clutched the can tighter and Deborah swallowed a laugh. Bridgette looked too charming for words, standing in a battle warrior-type stance. “How about we drop all this stuff off at my aunt's office so we can have our hands free to buy more stuff as we check out the tables and booths? Then afterward we can head back and get ready for the dance tonight. I can't wait to see you wear your new dress. What do you say?”

Deborah couldn't fail to notice the probing stare Bridgette gave her, scanning her body from head to toe. Deborah almost closed her eyes and smiled from the welcomed heat in her stomach area, as well as the way in between her legs grew damp. She was so glad they were on a crowded street because she was close to kissing her.

“All right. I'd love to,” Deborah relented.

“Great!” Bridgette said loudly and pulled on her arm as she led them toward her aunt's office building.

By the time they arrived, Bridgette was holding her hand and Deborah didn't mind in the least.