The Other Woman (41 page)

I gasp. “Moet, Bradley?”

“Yep, we’re celebrating the dismissal of all charges, baby.”

Baby
. A dry sob, thinly veiled as a chuckle, escapes me. How I once longed for him to call me that. I raise my glass. “To fun times!”

“To fun times,” he dittos. “And to a bright future.”

“And to a
dazzling
future, Mr. Prime Minister!”

He groans and looks down.

“What?”

“I dunno if I want to do that anymore.”

“What? You’ve wanted it for the longest time, Bradley?”

“Yeah, but it’s just so much pressure and…” He sighs, then drinks up.

I can’t believe it. I’m so taken aback by his words that for a few moments I fall silent.

“Well, you’re young, so what’s the hurry?” Again, I raise my glass. “To absolutely
no
pressure!”

He smiles and clinks glasses. After taking a sip of his Moet, he says, “You know it wasn’t me, right?”

If I am following Scarlett’s life manual, and subscribing to the concept of pleasure and play, I should respond with,
Of course, Bradley, I believe you.
But my reputation has been savaged – as long as I live I will never be able to shake off my drug accusations. So my response is, “Hey, I’m not judging here. We all make mistakes.”

He looks so hurt, I actually feel bad.

“What?”

“Rival, I don’t care what anyone thinks about me, but…I do care what
you
think.”

“Why?”

He shakes his head. “You know me better than anyone else, Rival. Yeah, sure, we had our problems, but there has always been mutual respect between us, right?”

That is not true. He’s treated me really shabbily at times. But I manage to say, “Sure.”

We are interrupted by his phone ringing. He looks at the phone, twists his mouth, then places it aside.

I’ll bet it’s Scarlett.

“So, how come you’re here celebrating with me? I have to ask. I mean, like your…wife…?” No matter how long I live, I will never ever get used to calling Scarlett his wife. This is not a question I should be asking, but again, I just can’t help it.

His face darkens. “It’s complicated,” he says in a surly voice.

I burst out laughing.

“What? What?” he demands, his eyes lighting up.

“That’s such a Facebook response.”

He thinks about it then smiles. “It
is
complicated,” he says, reaching for my hand and linking his fingers with mine. “I wish all that happened…all the terrible things between us, never took place.” His voice is imbued with regret. “I’m…I’m feeling lost right now, and…he looks into my eyes, and to my surprise his Adam’s apple bobs, “I wish you were around. More.” He raises my hand to his lips again.

So heartfelt. And all that he says – it’s exactly what I dreamed off. Surreal.

His phone vibrates a few times, but he ignores it.

“You can answer it if you want to,” I say. “I really don’t mind.”

His response is to kiss my hand again.

Then my phone goes off. Facebook alerts. Ping! Ping! Ping! I’m still following Scarlett using Ritchie’s account. Dying to know what she’s up to, I excuse myself and hurry off to the bathroom, where I scroll through posts and comments on Facebook.

Scarlett:
Found this pic from way back when of my darling family. #lifeisperfect.

That picture is almost a year old. Why would she be posting it now?

To my absolute surprise, Bradley comments.

Bradley:
I’ve been looking for that pic, hon. You look lovely in it. Sexy!

Two-faced bastard! How can he be kissing my hand, appear to be having a great time, and the moment I turn my back, he’s cozying up to Scarlett? Hangs onto her every word?

Scarlett:
Aw, thanks babe.
(Smiley face with hearts in the eyes)

Jacinta:
Heard the court case for theft and insurance fraud went well, Scarlett. Congrats
. (Smiley face).
Knew you guys weren’t common thieves. Lol!

You tell her, Jacinta, whoever you are.

Scarlett:
Oh yeah. Expect haters to come at you when you’re upwardly mobile. They can come at my husband and me, try to bring us down, but together Brad and are I strong. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger and tighter. (
Smiley face.)
#TeflonMurdochs
#
BradleyMurdochforPrimeMinister #Kirribillihouserocks #TheOnlyWayIsUp

Bradley:
True Jacinta. Teflon it is. And Scarlett, love of my life, I got you, babe. Really, I do.

Scarlett:
Aw, what have I done to deserve someone like you?
(Smiley face with tears.)

Jacinta likes this.

Anna likes this.

Debbie likes this.

Sue likes this.

Laura along with thirty four others like this.

Fuming, I put away my phone and walk back to our table. Bradley stands when he sees me return. Funny thing is, Bradley’s phone is nowhere in sight. Weird. “Where’s your phone?” I ask.

He pats the pocket of his pants. “Why?”

“Eh, I…eh, I think I heard it going off.”

“Oh.” He fishes it out from his pocket and looks at it. “Not mine,” he says, shaking his head. “Mine’s off.”

“Oh.” I’m really confused now. Could he be lying?

“Did you just turn it off?”

“Been off since this arvo. Didn’t wanna talk to anyone.” He leaves it on the table and I can see he’s telling the truth.

“Ah.” Scarlett you fake. What a lie you live!

“What?” Bradley asks, leaning in and staring into my face. “Why you smiling? Tell me.”

I shake my head, my smile turning into a small laugh. How do I tell him that I am laughing at his wife without letting up that I am following her on Facebook?

“Well, I…”

“Bradley, darlin’, congrats!” A voice booms, saving me from having to answer.

Bradley and I jerk apart as the woman’s eyes dart between us. “Heard you and Scarlett kicked arse t’day. Sweet!”

Bradley nods and introduces me to his friend. I leave them to talk and head to round up my children. I am now convinced that I can steal Bradley from Scarlett, and…I am going full steam ahead. Then I am going to steal something else from her – the title of First Lady of Australia. I don’t care to have the spotlight on me, but to spite her, I will. What a delicious thought.

As I drive Bradley and the kids home, he turns to me. “Wanna go to the casino this Saturday?”

“Casino?” I glance at the kids in the back seat of his Porsche, then at him.

He shakes his head. “Just you and me.”

“Eh…um…”

“I’ll arrange for Hailey to take care of them.”

Wow, he’s actually asking me out. On a Saturday night? On a date? Wow! “That would be lovely,” I say, feeling dizzy with delight.

With a satisfied smile, he pats my thigh. An intimate gesture all right, but I don’t mind.

As I walk into my room that evening with my roses in hand and a big grin on my face, my smile is so smug, you’d think I’ve already won at the roulette table.

****

SCARLETT

I miss Bradley. In spite of everything that has happened, I long for his arms around me, his pleasant company, and for the good times we once shared. Today was such a victory for us, and it would be great to bury the ills of the past and just start afresh. But he won’t answer any of my calls or my texts, so I sit alone in our lovely home. When my dad asked us out to a celebratory dinner, I lied and told him that Bradley and I had plans.

After feeling a little sorry for myself, I pop open a bottle of Dom Perignon and pour myself a glass. I deserve Dom. The past few months were stressful on me as well – I deserve champagne.

My phone pings with a Facebook alert.

Briana:
I congratulated Bradley when I saw him earlier on at Amigos, Scarlett. He looked really happy, laughing and sipping on Moet. He sure knows how to celebrate. Wish I had that kind of relationship with my ex. Your man sure is amazing to treat his ex with such love and respect. Anyway, I sent my congrats with him. Hope he’s passed it on.
(Smiley face
.
)

I start to hyperventilate. How fucking humiliating. Bastard! Cunt! Fucking ingrate! My sisters and my entire family are going to see this comment and laugh at me. Fuck!

I hurtle into damage control.

Thanks
Briana
. (Smiley face.)
Yes, that’s my Brad, generous to a fault, even to those who have wronged him. Waiting for him so we can have our private celebratory dinner in a short while. Just me and my baby. Dom is chillin’ and so am I, if you know what I mean. (
Big lascivious wink.)
PS: Hope he’s the only one drinking Moet though. Me thinks Brad and I can’t handle any more drug-related dramas.
(Sad face.)

Quickly, I log off Facebook. I am so mad, I drink fast and furiously. By the time Bradley arrives, the bottle is empty, I’m close to tears, and I have a go at him. “This was our fucking big day and you spend it with that slut? That whore! That—”

“Hey, hey, hey!” he hisses, pointing at the kids.

“I don’t give a fuck, Bradley!”

“Holly, Phoebe, go upstairs and get ready for your baths,” he says. After which, he grabs my elbow and shoves me into the study. “You’re drunk!”

“Oh, is the Scanpan calling the kettle drunk?”

“Scarlett, you’re slurring. Look at you.” The pot’s voice drips with unrestrained disdain.

“You think it was an easy day for me, you fucking son of a bitch? Okay, so I’m slurring a little. Big fuckin’ deal! You…you drink like a fish, and you slur all the time. And Briana – se…saw you at
Amigos
with that—”

“I don’t give a fuck what Briana says or thinks, okay? I don’t give a shit what
anyone
thinks.”

“Cocky …prick!”

“Listen, I am Bradley Murdoch, attorney extraordinaire, future Prime Minister of Australia, and I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone of these arseholes around—”

“I made you! Before me you were a nothing. Just you remember that.”

He shakes his head, his lips curled with contempt. “Go to bed, Scarlett. Do yourself a favor and go to bed.” He turns and strides out of the study.

I run after him, grab his arm, and swing him around. “You’re dismissing me? Just like that?”

“Yes,” he says, as he shakes off my hand. “You’re dismissed.” He walks into the girls’ room and shuts the door.

He’s
dismissing
me. I can’t believe it. After all I have done for him and his brats, he treats me like I am superfluous? “What about the kids?” I say through the locked door, my pride AWOL. “I have to bathe them, put them…”

He throws open the door. “No need,” he says in a voice cold with control. “We can do this without you. Just…just…” His eyes brim with contempt. “Clean up that face of yours, and go to bed. Now.” He shuts the door on my face.

I rush to a wall mirror, look at myself, and cringe. Smeared mascara has given me panda eyes, my lipstick has worn away, leaving just the harsh outline of my burgundy lip liner, my nose is bulbous, and my face is blotchy from crying.

How can he be this way toward me? Such a cold tone of voice. Such a
condescending
tone of voice.
We can do this without you…

Suddenly I feel like my bath water has just run cold.

****

RITCHIE

It’s been two days since Bradley and Scarlett were cleared of all charges and I’m at his offices, wiring him.

“Ready?”

Bradley nods and walks into the next room. “Testing, one, two, three.”

“Loud and clear,” I yell from the other room. I walk over to him. “Just remember to talk
normally
. Nothing that will raise suspicions.”

“Gotcha!”

“Keep your phone at hand so that you have something to look at when you struggle to make eye contact with Scarlett. Like, scrutinize it, read messages, anything like that, okay?”

“Gotcha!”

“And remember where I told you to stand for the cameras?”

“Yep. I’ve memorized the positions of every one of them.”

“You may need to draw her to that spot. Lure her there. And remember to use her name, okay?”

His head bobs as I talk.

He shakes his hands at his sides, straightens his posture, and blows through his cheeks. “Feel like “I’m ’bout to take on Tyson.”

“Well, at least your ears are safe today, mate.”

He laughs. “You’ll be watching?”

I nod. “I’ll be watching.”

****

SCARLETT

Rival’s book has reached number one on Amazon. I feel physical pain when I think about the amount of money she is making. My book, my money – she just stole it and is getting away with it. My rage is as huge as the Loch Ness Monster right now. The only way I can stop myself from storming over to her, plunging a blade a dozen or more times into her chest, and watching the life slowly ooze out of her before her eyes close for good is to tame the beast with copious amounts of alcohol. It’s 1 p.m., and I’m on my fourth vodka martini. It’s the only way.

“Scarlett?”

I sit up. Bradley’s calling me.

“Scarlett? Where are you?”

“I’m on the patio!” I say.

He walks over to me, eyes the vodka bottle, but says nothing.

“Want a drink?” I ask.

“Yes, sure,” he says. “Thanks.”

He’s being civil toward me. He actually came
looking
for me, and he wants to drink with me. Usually he enters the house, talks to the kids, ignores me, and then settles to watch TV with a bottle of Scotch until he drops. Hope ignites inside of me. Perhaps he’s come around after all. I smile to myself as I pour him a drink and hand it to him. I just needed to be patient. Rival is pretty plain and boring – after what Bradley and I shared, there is no doubt in my mind he
will
miss it. I know I do.

“Thanks,” he says as he accepts the drink from me. I reward his niceness with the batting of my eyelashes. "We need to talk,” he says in an almost pleasant voice.

“Sure.” I sit on a patio lounger and draw up my legs, allowing him a good view of my crotch. “Take a seat,” I say in a husky voice and gesture to the chair across me.

He takes a seat, but to my dismay, sits on the edge of it. “I wanna apologize for all the mean things I said to you.” His words cause a power surge of hope to zap through me.

“Bygones,” I say, then slowly lick the rim of my glass.

He nods, but doesn’t drink. “Though, I have to admit, you’re really smart, Scarlett.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I can’t believe what you did to Rival.”

Rival? He wants to talk about my mortal enemy now?

He shifts closer to the edge of his seat. “I mean, your handiwork, it’s nothing short of genius.”

"Ok…kay…"

“Tell me how you did it. How did you switch Rival’s medication?”

I stare at him, note the blisters of sweat on his upper lip, the fact that he’s perched on the edge of his seat, see the expectant and nervous look in his eyes, hear his controlled voice, and most importantly, he has taken a sip of his drink. Ding! ding! ding! He’s wearing a wire. Ritchie’s probably wired him, and he’s probably watching us on recorded surveillance right now.

I take a big gulp of my drink as I hold a small funeral for hope.

Who the fuck do these pricks think I am? Do you want to know what my pet hate is? I’ll tell you – my pet hate is when some two-bit fuckers think they can outsmart
me
.

Well, if Ritchie is watching, then I need to give him something to watch – entertain him. With a smile, I pull off my top and unhook my bra.

Bradley’s eyes dart toward the corner of the ceiling, a look of horror on his face. “Wha…what are you doing, Scarlett?”

“Catching a tan,” I say as I squeeze my breasts.

“Jayzus!” He shoves all his fingers into his hair.

Undeterred, I wriggle out of my shorts and kick them aside.

“Stop!” Bradley says. “There’s…Jayzus! I’m trying to have a conversation, Scarlett.”

With a smile, I slowly roll down my panties, kick them aside, and look at him. Bradley covers his face with his hands and groans.

I have no doubt that by now, Ritchie is totally enthralled by the sight of my centerfold body – my perfect arse, my tear-drop-shaped tits, my sexy legs. Probably has a massive boner. Ritchie’s not bad looking, you know. His rawness is kind of sexy.

“Talk to me, Scarlett.”

“Honey,” I say as I stand in front of him. “You’re the brains, here. You asked me to help switch your wife’s medication. It was
your
idea. I must admit, I only helped because I was so afraid to say no to you.”

His jaw drops as his eyes flit toward the corner of the ceiling. “I did not!” he says the moment he recovers from the shock of my words. “I did NOT ask you to do that, Scarlett. You did it on your own, and now…now you’re
blackmailing
me.”

Nice one. With a sultry smile, I gather my hair above my head and sway to music that is not playing. “I need to be fucked,” I say. “Hard. That’s the way I like it. Hard, wild, unrestrained.”

Bradley shakes his head as he stares at me in silence.

“Cat got your tongue, honey?”

It’s a while before he speaks. “I want a divorce, Scarlett.”

I stop dancing.

“I don’t love you anymore. I made a huge mistake. It’s Rival I love. I want a divorce.”

I stare at him, my vodka-induced buzz lifting.

“Please, just let’s end this. Life is pretty miserable right now, and I want you to leave. Please.”

I sashay over to my drink, take a sip, and look at him. “This is my house.
You
leave.”

His eyes turn to slits.

“You
sold
this house to me. I came into this marriage with this house. That prenup we signed—”

“Scarlett.” Bradley’s voice is a mere whisper. “Scarlett…what…what did you say?”

I don’t answer. I don’t need to. Instead I calmly help myself to another vodka. As I do, he lunges at me and hits the bottle out of my hands. Glass shatters all over our tiled patio. I’m naked and barefoot, so I dare not move. When I see Bradley’s granite eyes, his flaring nostrils, his body rigid with rage, fear snakes through me. He’s going to hit me. I hold up my palms. “Bradley, just you—”

Suddenly he has me pinned against the wall. My husband, the man who was supposed to be protecting me, has dragged me across broken glass and is choking the life out of me. Black spots dance behind my eyelids, and I fear I am going to pass out.

Somehow, I manage to knee him in the groin, and when he buckles, I run over broken glass into the house. Almost immediately, he’s on his feet chasing after me. Even though my feet are slashed and I’m bleeding, I manage to get into my bedroom and lock the door. Bradley starts to kick it down.

****

RITCHIE

All I can say is that I am glad I was watching. Bradley went ballistic – booted down the bedroom door, tackled Scarlett to the floor, and began hammering at her. By the time I get there, Scarlett has a black eye, a bloody lip, her feet are bleeding, and there is blood all over the carpet.

I wrestle with Bradley, throw him out of the room, and lock the door. “I’m calling an ambulance,” I say to Scarlett, who is lying on the bedroom floor, naked.

“No, no ambulance,” she says, struggling to sit up. “Please. It’s nothing.”

“Scarlett, you have to go to the hospital.”

“No, Ritchie! If this gets out, Bradley loses his seat in the Senate. No cops.” She gets up and hobbles to the bathroom.