Slices of Life (14 page)

“Uh-huh,” Tommy said. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I don’t believe you.”

Julia sidled by him. “I’m fine, T.”

She could feel Tommy’s eyes on her as she headed down the hall. “You know where to find me when you’re ready to talk about it,” he called after her.

Hating the feeling of running away, despite the fact that it was exactly what she was doing, Julia found peace in the staff restroom where she stripped down and stepped into the shower, and prayed for the water to wash away the stress that seemed to be closing in on her.

Why now?
That was the question foremost in her mind. She’d been dealing with the whole Christine situation for months now. No, more than a year, if she was going to be honest with herself. More than two years, really. Okay, three. She’d been dealing with it for three years. And those were only the dalliances she knew about as fact. Maybe Christine had been cheating on her from the very beginning.

Julia closed her eyes and set her forehead against the tile wall of the shower while the water pounded her shoulder blades. Twelve years? Was it possible Christine was unfaithful for all that time? But why? She seemed happy, as happy as Julia when they first committed to each other, first moved in together, toasted with very expensive champagne when Christine opened her law firm. Julia was there for every momentous occasion in Christine’s career. Happily. Supportively.

Faithfully.

The first one to raise Julia’s hackles was a client of Christine’s. The husband owned a trio of auto repair shops and thought Christine walked on water. If only he’d known Christine’s fingers did the walking all over his beautiful wife. Julia had popped by the office to surprise Christine with lunch and waited patiently in the lobby for her to finish up a meeting with the couple. When the group of them came out, there was something—
something
—about the way Christine looked at the wife, the way she kept her hand at the small of the woman’s back, gently directing her, the way the wife gazed up into Christine’s eyes. Julia knew that look. She’d had it on her own face. She knew the charm Christine could project, the way she could make you feel like there was nobody else in the room. That’s how the wife looked at her that day: like Julia had when she’d first become enamored with Christine. The husband was oblivious then. Probably still was. Men tended to be naïve that way, Julia knew, never thinking another woman might peak the sexual interest of his wife.

Julia never said a thing to Christine. To this day, she wasn’t sure why. She simply watched and waited and before she could decide what to do, it was over. The whole thing played itself out in about three months. The late nights “at work” stopped. Christine seemed much more present, much less removed, than she had been since she’d taken the couple on as clients. She bought Julia a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings. Julia took them as an unspoken apology and decided to just let it go.

That was the first one.

Six months went by before number two came along.

With a frustrated sigh, Julia changed into clean clothes, knowing she had some paperwork to finish up before she met with her next new client. In her tiny cubby—it was just too small to refer to it as an office—she turned the framed photo of a grinning Christine to face away from her, plugged her ear buds into her ears and hoped to blast the thoughts of her crumbling relationship out of her head, just as she had with the spin class. The lyrics of Sara Bareilles were just too poignant for her mood, so she scanned for something with a good beat and shallow, meaningless words, settling on a Britney Spears tune.

The paperwork killed a half hour. Back-to-back clients took over another two hours. Two men this time, a happy surprise since the majority of her clients were women. The first one was a walking stereotype, a large guy who was certain he knew more about the equipment and proper weight-lifting procedures than Julia did, and took great pleasure in finishing her sentences. Not to mention, he never looked above her breasts when she spoke to him. When she finally finished with him, she momentarily wondered if she could squeeze in another quick shower, just to wash off the unpleasantness he’d left crawling on her skin. The second client was a nice guy, middle-aged and determined to get himself into some kind of reasonable shape. He wasn’t a lost cause and Julia spent much of their time convincing him of this fact. He was a quick study and she predicted he would be one of those few people who actually got his money’s worth out of his gym membership by returning on a regular basis.

Lunch consisted of some yogurt mixed with granola she’d made herself last night. Julia wasn’t one of those fitness instructors who lived on rabbit food; she usually had a hearty sandwich—healthy, but hearty—packed along with several snacks, but lately she’d seemed to have misplaced her appetite. Strategically avoiding Tommy, who shot her a knowing look from across the row of treadmills as she scurried past, she ate quickly and headed for the Body Pump class she taught three times a week.

Early afternoon classes pulled in a completely different crowd than early morning or five o’clock. Entering the room, she quickly counted nine people, six of whom were regulars, two who she thought were completely new, and one she’d seen around the gym, but never in this particular class. Body Pump wasn’t nearly as mindless as spinning, but Julia enjoyed it. Pumping music added an element of fun to what was essentially a basic weight-lifting routine. Strolling the room and helping her attendees learn to do the moves correctly, learn what would best help them tone whichever muscle group they were on was especially rewarding. What made it all worthwhile for Julia was seeing somebody’s face when that person finally “got it,” felt the right burn, or even realized he or she needed to move to a heavier weight. It was a big part of why she entered the fitness industry in the first place. Her younger, naïve self wanted to shape up the entire planet. Her older, realistic self was simply happy to help a handful of people a day.

She also liked the Body Pump class because, when she wasn’t helping a student, she could focus on her own body, her own breathing, the working of her own muscle groups as she lifted and pushed and strained. A good muscle workout always made her head feel better.

Once class was over, however, her brain went right back to its turbulence, spinning and tossing, not giving her a moment’s rest. She took a load of towels to the laundry room and threw them in, refilled her water bottle from the fountain in the hall, and ensconced herself behind her desk once more, hoping to focus on more paperwork. Or maybe shoot herself in the head.

The backwards frame caught her eye and she felt the sudden, unbearable urge to hear Christine’s voice, to be on the receiving end of some reassurance, to feel like she was just having a weird mood and everything would be okay if she just hung in there. Before she could talk herself out of it, she’d picked up the phone and dialed her partner’s cell phone number.

When voicemail picked up, Julia replaced the handset more roughly than necessary. Then she picked it back up and dialed the office number. After a brief conversation, she replaced the handset again and sat staring at the phone. She muttered, “That was weird,” just as her office door clicked shut.

“What was weird?” Tommy T stood against the closed door. His bulk took up the majority of any extra space and made Julia feel like she was sitting in an elevator.

“I just called Christine’s office.”

“Didn’t get her, I bet.” Tommy tried not to scowl. He was unsuccessful.

“No, but I got Bertie. She never answers Christine’s line. She said Jenna quit this week.”

“Jenna, the little hussy Christine was banging?”

“That’s the one,” Julia replied, and her expression perfectly combined a grimace and a sneer.

“Good riddance.”

“I know. I’m just surprised Christine didn’t say anything.”

Tommy scoffed. “I’m surprised you still expect her to tell you things.”

Julia shook her head in self-deprecation. “I know. I know. I can’t seem to help it.”

Despite his size and the lack of space in the room, Tommy squatted down to look his friend in the eye. “Jules, honey, you deserve so much better.” His voice was gentle and kind. He closed a hand the size of a catcher’s mitt over hers. “How much longer are you going to take this?”

Her eyes filled, but as soon as she felt the tears, Julia got angry. “Damn her for making me feel like this,” she said hoarsely. “Damn her.” The tears spilled over. “Damn her.”

“I know,” Tommy said with a nod. He shifted to his knees next to her so he could wrap her in his embrace. She continued to curse her partner even as she buried her face in Tommy’s shoulder and cried.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice muffled in his shirt. “I do everything for her. I love her so much. Why does she hurt me?”

Tommy rocked her for long moments, murmured in her ear, promised her it would all work out for the best, that she just needed to put herself first for a change. They were the same things he’d been saying to her for almost three years now, and they usually rolled over her and then right off onto the ground and she went on with business as usual. But today was different. She had no idea why, but for some reason, this time she heard him, heard his words, heard his worry for her, his anger for her, his frustration with her. She heard it all loud and clear and knew it was time.

Time to do something about it.

Julia sat back in her chair, away from Tommy, wiped her hand over her face, reached for a tissue. “You’re right,” she said simply.

Tommy blinked at her. “I’m sorry, but…what?”

One corner of her mouth quirked up. “You heard me.”

“I did. I just needed to be sure. I don’t think you’ve ever said those words to me before.”

“Hardy har har.”

His face softened. “I’m right about what?” he asked gently.

Julia blew out a breath, cleared her throat. “I don’t deserve this. I’m a good wife. I’m a supportive partner. I do my best for her, and she should treat me with respect, not run off and fuck every pretty girl that walks into her office.” She said the last line with more malice than she’d expected to, and Tommy chuckled.

“You’re preaching to the choir, babe,” he said. “But I’m glad to hear it.”

“It’s time to face the music. Isn’t it?” Her voice was small again.

“Has been for a while now.”

She nodded once. “It has.” A glance at the clock told her it was just after three. “I suddenly realized I have a long overdue appointment with a lawyer. Mind if I cut out a little early?”

He shook his head and stood. “Go for it.”

Julia held Tommy’s gaze for a moment, and her heart filled to bursting with gratitude. “Thank you,” she said in a near-whisper. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his huge neck, feeling the muscles ripple in his shoulders. He hugged her back tightly.

“You’re welcome. Call me and let me know how you are, okay?”

“Okay.”

He released her, but held her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good luck, Jules.”

Less than a half hour later, Julia pulled her car into a parking spot in the lot for Davis and Fichter, Attorneys. Christine’s convertible, cherry-red BMW sat in her usual reserved spot and for a second, Julia’s palms began to sweat. She quickly shook off the fear and steeled herself as she got out of the car. She had every right to confront this situation. She was doing nothing wrong. Not a thing. Repeating it in her head like a mantra, she entered the lobby and smiled at Bertie. A perverse sense of pleasure flooded her at the site of Jenna’s now-empty space.

“Hi, Bertie. Is Christine in?”

“Hey, Jules, how are you?” Bertie seemed genuinely happy to see her; she was the one person in this office that Julia thought was authentic, who pulled no punches and played no roles.

“I’m okay, Bertie. How about you?”

“It’s better than the alternative, right?” They both laughed and Bertie continued with, “Christine’s got a client in with her right now, but they should be finishing up soon.”

“Good. I’ll wait.” She stepped to the chairs in the waiting area and glimpsed through the magazines.

“Can I get you anything?” Bertie asked.

“Oh, no, I’m good. Thank you, though.”

As Julia chose a
People
from three months ago and sat, a tall, leggy, gorgeous blonde walked through the lobby and smiled at her with too-white teeth. She was beautiful, but in a nothing-on-this-body-is-natural sort of way. Julia’s eyes followed her to the end of the hall where she entered Christine’s office and closed the door behind her.

“Who was that?” she asked Bertie before she could stop herself.

“New intern. Kerry—.”

“—Kerry.” They said her name in unison and then their eyes met. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about her,” Julia said, trying and failing to keep the disdain from her tone. “You like her?”

Bertie grimaced, searching for the right words. “She’s…an acquired taste.”

“I’ll bet.”

The switchboard rang, stealing Bertie from her, so Julia returned to her magazine. She pretended to read, but her mind was on Kerry the Intern. Julia couldn’t put her finger on why, but there was not a doubt in her mind that Kerry the Intern already was one of Christine’s conquests. When Christine’s door opened and people filed out, Julia’s suspicions were solidified. Kerry looked at Christine with unadulterated lust, and walked much too closely to her. Christine ate it up, and there was the hand on the small of the back again.

The second she saw Julia, however, she took a quick step away and put more space between them. Their eyes met and Julia knew that Christine knew and she was glad for it. Less explanation for her to give.

“Hi, sweetie,” Christine said, her voice too sweet. She bent to kiss Julia’s cheek. “What are you doing here?” She introduced Julia as her wife to the three clients on their way out as well as to Kerry the Intern, who paled noticeably. Julia barely kept her grin hidden.

“I need to talk to you,” Julia said simply as hands were shaken and goodbyes were said. The clients left and Kerry the Intern hovered for only a split second before she bee-lined for anyplace else.