The Other Other Woman

The
Other
Other
Woman

A Novel

By
Mallory Lockhart

Copyright © 2013 by Mallory Lockhart

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission of the author.

Edited by J.M. Holderny and B. O’Phelan

Cover design by Fital of 99Designs

Formatting by Polgarus Studio

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

eBook created in the United States of America

 
For my mom, who has always been my biggest supporter.

And who has promised to cover her eyes for the dirty parts.

Preface

“This is my friend, Mallory. She makes bad choices.” That’s how my gay boyfriend, Brady, likes to introduce me now. He takes pity on me once in a while and takes me out dancing with him and his actual boyfriend, Justin. Sadly, he’s not wrong; I do make bad choices. He was one of the first people I told about sleeping with Matt.

“What did you do!? What the hell did you do?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” That was the gist of his obscenity-laden response. I couldn’t blame him, he had warned me to stay away. He wasn’t the first person I had discussed my situation with though. That was Cecilia. I actually blame her for all this. I kid, really! But no, really, it’s all her fault. After all, she’s the one who made me kiss him.

Chapter One

I met Matt in early February of last year at our annual sales conference for our Financial Strategies Group. I’m in the Risk Management division for a large national investment firm. Basically, I serve as “Big Brother” to our investment advisors. Assigned with making sure they don’t make promises they can’t keep to their clients, I end up in discussions over investment products with brokers for a good part of the day. Is this growth fund suitable for this client’s overall objective? Can you explain why you put them into this fixed annuity?

Matt was a well-known corporate advisor in our Atlanta office with a very large number of assets under him, definitely one of the top producers in his branch. I had taken on the Atlanta branch almost a year prior to our conference, so we spoke by phone and emailed each other on a fairly regular basis. He told me often that he appreciated that I wasn’t a “typical” risk management person, that he found me “friendly, diplomatic, and funny as hell.” Highly irregular for someone in my position, I suppose. In fact, we had a history of friendly telephone banter, tossing "Seinfeld" pictures and sarcastic quotes back and forth via email, and typical joking around long before we had actually met.

I was looking forward to finally having the chance to meet him in person, probably more so than any of the other brokers, just because I always enjoyed our conversations and found him very pleasant and funny. But at the same time, I was a tired and frumpy mom of two small children. I definitely wasn’t entertaining the idea of being attracted to anyone. I had been in a marriage for nine years that was probably over before it began. Looking back, it was near death for sure by about year seven. I really wasn’t attracted to men in general anymore.

My boss, Robin, had mentioned once or twice that she thought Matt was “hot as hell.” I remember letting out a big chuckle when I heard that. Say what, now? I mean, he was a
broker
. Brokers are not typically what you refer to as hot. Egotistical, spoiled, and pretentious, perhaps. If we were being kind, maybe just bald and bow-tied would suffice. They definitely have a reputation for being dickheads when they want to be. At least in most states they do. For the first year or so in this job, I was very apprehensive about answering the phone. I would automatically brace myself for an argument every time a broker’s name would pop up on my caller ID, but I rarely ever got one. I don’t know if it was just something in the Georgia water that made those boys so easy to get along with, but I hardly ever detected an attitude from any of them, and Matt was no exception.

Since this was my first year being invited, I was anxious to see what this annual conference was all about. I had heard that the dress code was everything from business casual to cocktail dresses for women. I decided to play it safe and wear a fitted black dress and heels. I should probably mention I always wear heels. Always. Unless I’m running, and if they made high-heeled running shoes, I can assure you I would have them. At 5’3”, I despised being short, especially when I was packing a few extra pounds. Okay, so a few was more like 20 or 30. But because of my tendency to gain weight all over, I still looked more athletic than overweight, with the exception of my chubby cheeks. Those stay round no matter what I weigh, and they make my big green eyes practically disappear when I smile. Normally, I would feel too shy and self-conscious to be in a room with a bunch of strangers, definitely out of my element. But I promised myself I was going to go, have some drinks, and not worry about that this time. I felt attractive enough in this particular dress. Made of silky black jersey material with a very flattering waistline, it accentuated my large bust and drew attention away from my post C-section belly. That, and the fact that I had already talked to a lot of these guys on the phone, made it a bit less frightening. Plus, I would have my co-workers to hide behind if necessary.

I walked into the Regent Hotel and immediately cast my eyes over an endless sea of blue suits. They were everywhere, nearly all men. But my eyes landed on him almost instantly, as if he was just waiting for me to arrive. I had to admit upon first glance, he was pretty handsome but not overwhelmingly so. I just thought…
yeah he’s a nice-looking guy, for a rich broker type
. He wore a blue suit, just like everyone else, but he had a very confident air about him along with a good-natured, playful smile.
Nice lips.

He was considerably older than me. With mostly gray hair covering the flecks of black underneath, I would guess he was in his mid-forties. It wouldn’t be the first time I had found an older man attractive. I’ve had a few “daddy issues” in the past. He sauntered up to me with a toothy grin and a glass of white wine and greeted me with, “Well, hello, Miss Mallory.” I could immediately feel my face get warm as I smiled at him; I embarrassed very easily. “Well, hey trouble,” I shot back. And we gave each other that awkward half-arm hug of people who aren’t exactly sure how well they are supposed to know each other, followed by a quick peck on the cheek.

“What can I get you to drink, do you like wine? Here, try this one.” He handed me his glass of Chardonnay for me to take a sip, and I thought
Well, okay, he’s not a germaphobe like I am
. I didn’t want to look like a loon, and truthfully, I’m only scared of stomach bugs, so I quickly took a sip and handed it back to him.

I said, “That’s not bad for white, but I really prefer red.”

“Me too, this is crap,” he agreed, setting it down on a nearby table. He placed his arm firmly around my back as if we’d known each other for years and escorted me up to the bar. He asked the bartender for a glass of their best red. I have no idea what kind it was because I thanked him and slammed it back in just a few swigs, hoping to squelch a sudden attack of nervousness that was creeping up. After a few moments, my cheeks started to turn a little rosy, and suddenly the idea of walking around and introducing myself to people seemed far less intimidating.

Matt and I continued to chat for a few minutes, but I knew I had to make my way around the room and mingle. This was a rare opportunity to meet nearly every advisor in the branches that I currently supervised. Just as we got separated in the crowd, I thought I heard him mention something about saving me a seat. When we were called into the banquet room for the awards dinner, I was pleased to see that Matt had, in fact, saved me the seat right next to him at the table with some of his branch. As I walked toward him, however, my supervisor Miranda suddenly grabbed me and pulled me away to go sit at the Birmingham table with her. She didn’t want to be by herself with people she didn’t know. I had no time to protest, so I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed a sad “sorry” to him as I took my seat on the other side of the room. I think we were both disappointed. I made sure to applaud a little louder as he was called up on stage when he won an award for exceeding his goals. I wasn’t sure why, but I kept peeking over at the Atlanta table more often than I cared to admit. It just seemed more interesting over there.

Unfortunately, the awards presentation ran very long, and afterwards, there were just too many people that I still needed to greet. I really didn’t get to talk to Matt very much at all. Between all the cocktails and conversations flowing, every time we started to talk again we were interrupted and separated by others. As the night went on, I found myself throwing curious glances his way and keeping mental notes on his general location in the room. I could have sworn I saw him doing the same.

Later in the evening, as the crowd began to thin out, I circled back around to him. We were having so much fun together, talking and trading funny stories back and forth. But as it grew later and most of my co-workers had long since made their exit, I lamented that I absolutely had to go.

“Come on, already?!” he playfully pleaded with me, grabbing both of my wrists. “I was hoping we would have more time to hang out.”

“I know, but I have to. I turn back into a pumpkin at midnight,” I replied apologetically, looking down at my watch which was still being held in his hands. He laughed and pulled me up against him, giving me a soft kiss goodnight on the cheek that was noticeably longer than a peck, and was a bit breathy in my ear as he whispered, “Well, I really enjoyed meeting you, Miss Mallory.”

I took a slightly closer look at him. Everyone knows that alcohol makes everything more clear, and I thought, you know, he
is
sort of cute for an older dude. I thought about him briefly in the car, wondering if he meant to get that close to my ear or was it completely unintentional. And then I went home to my husband and kids, and I really didn’t think about him anymore.

That next Monday he called me at the office. I was intrigued to see his name pop up, as I hadn’t had time to ask him any trade-related questions yet.

“Good morning, trouble,” I answered.

“Hey, what’s up, Mal?”

“Not too much, how are you?”

“I’ve been here since seven a.m., got a GREAT workout in this morning, and now I’m just grinding it out…” (I think this must be on some secret broker list of things to say because they all think they work SO hard).

“Seven a.m. is a ridiculous time of the morning to be at work, Matt.”

“No way, I get up at five!”

“You clearly have something wrong with you,” I joked. I was definitely not an early morning person. “So what’s up, did you need me?”

“Naw, just calling to say hey. It was really nice to meet you finally, to be able to put a face with the name. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk much more though…”

I thought
Wow, that’s sweet. He’s so… considerat
e. “Well, you know how quiet Miranda is; she was gripping my arm like grim death, so I couldn’t leave her by herself. But I really wanted to sit with you guys.”

“I know! I tried! Ah well, there’s always next year,” he sighed. “When are you going to come down here for your branch visit? They’re making you guys hit the road now, right?”

“I don’t know… Um, how far away are you again?”

“About six hours, but it practically FLIES by.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“No, not even a little bit,” he chuckled.

“Six hours, eh? That seems like an awful long drive just to come down and see you jokers,” I teased.

“You definitely need to come down and see us jokers. I promise you, we would show you a good time.”

Branch visits were a new thing for us this year and I was absolutely giddy at the idea of getting away from home where I could get a hotel room and SLEEP! Sleep and sleep and more sleep. He and his partner, Brooke, wanted to take me out for drinks with the other brokers and assistants in the branch. That sounded great to me; I actually knew Brooke from before. She used to work in Investment Services in Raleigh with me, but on a different floor. She picked up her family, sold her house, and moved everyone down to Atlanta the year prior to partner up with Matt. I’ve always liked her very much, but she didn’t think so. She thought I was a stuck-up bitch, actually. She is a huge part of my life now, and I have him to thank for that.

Over the next month or so, we continued to exchange work-related emails and speak over the phone. If ever I was out or on vacation, he seemed to notice, and would very kindly mention it. “Hope you had a great day off” or “Hope you are feeling better.” The conversations started off about work but naturally digressed to our similar interests; we had both been big "Seinfeld" fans and now loved the current season of "Mad Men". We both loved to cook–and more importantly, eat–so we were used to having to exercise on regular basis. I had been a runner for a few years and had recently gotten into weight training, so we talked about running different races and what we liked to do at the gym. We discovered that we both liked hip-hop, which I found absolutely hysterical. A 48 year old man who was into Pitbull and Flo Rida? Come on, now, who are you kidding? But it made sense, I suppose, since you need music with a steady beat for exercising. Plus, he had college-aged kids, so I suspect they had been helping their dear old dad appear cool for some time now. He schooled me on Timbaland and gave me several songs to add to my iPod, which I did, and I gave him several song suggestions of my own which he promptly ignored.