All Fore Revenge Page 6

  He’d pulled off his t-shirt back at the truck, leaving only a tight racer-back tank and exposing his incredible shoulders and back. His shorts were a bit of a disappointment—rather than the old-style spandex biker shorts, he wore normal-looking shorts with a spandex layer inside, but his legs working under them may have been one of the wonders of the modern world.

  We rode up a hill near the edge of town, and rested on the cool grass in the shade of a ponderosa, sharing a bottle of water. I lay back and looked up at the brilliant blue stretching above us. It was cooler at this elevation than down in Phoenix, and I shivered against the grass that hadn’t yet been warmed by the sun, and still bore the deep chill of the night.

  Cam lay back next to me on his side. I turned to catch him simply staring at me.

  “What?” I asked. “Do I have bugs in my teeth?”

  “Were you enjoying it that much?”

  “Yeah, actually.”

  “If we’re going fast enough to get bugs in teeth, you should be tucked.”

  “Working up to it, sweetie.”

  “Sweetie,” he repeated, trying it out. “Okay. I can live with that.”

  “For one more day.”

  “Whatever. You know you’re the first chick I took out on this bike that didn’t demand to be in front?”

  “Are you disappointed?” Should I have asserted myself?

  “No, goofy. You trusted me.”

  I guess I did. “I like to think of it as more bravery than trust,” I teased.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He pinned me then, and our kissing was heated enough that some folks driving by whistled out their windows at us.

  I could feel him hard against me and wanted badly to reach in his shorts and stroke him. My rapid breathing must have signaled him that it was time to break up the make-out session, so he stood and helped me up. “It’s downhill back to town, then I’ll get us some lunch. You will tuck, right? ‘Cause it’s a rush going fast.”

  *

  A rush , I ranted to myself, with my head pulled so low my helmet bumped my handle bars when we hit rough spots in the road. Tucking wasn’t really optional, unless I wanted to sit up straight and get my eyes blasted out of my face by the wind whipping past my sunglasses. This was the freaking rush of death. If I lived through it, I’d be amazed.

  A large bug glanced off my arm and I imagined my body doing the same thing on the pavement. This was very poor judgment on my part. Kids need a mom, and I’d just risked the well-being of my children for now and always, by taking such a chance. Kids need a mom, kids need a mom! Signposts and trees were a blur as we tore down the hill and around curves I was certain would be our end. Kids need a mom, kids need a mom! I tried to compose a prayer, a deal with God. If I lived through it I’d, well… I’d something.

  We came to the bottom of the hill and slowed enough to exhale again. Cam pulled the bike over in front of a deli where he hopped off.

  “Like it?” He was grinning and exuberant as hell.

  “We were passing cars, you dickhead!” I yelled, and slugged his arm. He laughed so hard he couldn’t stand straight. I stood holding his Grim-Reaper-Mobile up while he doubled over and laughed. It was contagious, and I couldn’t help finally joining him.

  “I guess it was fun. Now that I lived through it once, maybe it won’t be so scary next time.”

  “Next time. I like that. I forgot my lock. Would you mind waiting with the bike while I get our lunch?” He hurried inside, and I sat on a bench next to where the bike leaned against the wall.

  People passed by on sidewalks, mostly tourists, dawdling around shops and carrying bags no doubt filled with impulsive splurges. I was watching an old couple cross the street, and wondering who I’d grow old with, when Cam called from the door of the deli, “Ali! You’re not, like, vegetarian or anything?”

  “Hardly! Lots of meat and cheese.”

  He grinned and rushed back in. I looked in the window and saw him hurry back to the counter, past the line of folks waiting behind him, apologizing as he went.

  The old couple came by and smiled at our bike, stopping to tell me how they rented “a bicycle built for two” on their honeymoon in San Diego, just before he went in the Marines. They’d been married fifty years last November, and still held hands when they walked.

  Cam came out with our lunch.

  Seeing the rings on my finger, the old man asked, “How many years since you landed this one, young man?”

  “Oh,” Cam answered with trouble glinting in his eyes, “we’re newlyweds, sir. It’s only been five short years.” He gathered me in his arms and kissed me, holding me like I was his greatest treasure. The old couple had disappeared when Cam let me go.

  “Liar, liar,” I whispered past a grin.

  We sat and ate the thick sandwich on thin bread Cam had bought.

  “I like this place because the sandwich is more protein and less carbs,” he told me.

  Judging by his muscle mass, it was probably a matter of importance for him to get enough protein. We ate the sandwich and shared a large soda. As we mounted the bike and started to ride away, a man with a camera hailed from across the street. Cam pulled over and the man ran toward us, snapping pictures all the while.

  “The O’Malleys stopped by and suggested I get a shot of you two for a human interest piece.” He scribbled on a pad. “Married five years. Can I use your name?”

  Oh, shit! Newspaper. I couldn’t be in the paper with Cam! I’d better clear this up. Tell him we’re friends, not spouses, or spice or whatever the plural of spouse is.

  “Oh, we’re…” I started.

  “…Mr. and Mrs. CJ Moreton,” Cam finished with a smile. Oh, Lord. My only hope was that the picture would be grainy or far away. Or maybe nobody I knew would read this little paper.

  When the reporter left, I mumbled, “Shit, shit, shit. We should’ve just kept going!” Living a lie, weren’t those Cam’s words from a couple of weeks ago? “We should’ve taken his camera or told him we were undercover operatives or something!”

  The bike took off with a lurch and made a speedy bee-line for the nearest alley. Once there, Cam dismounted and turned on me so fast the bike and I almost tipped over. His picture could have been in the dictionary next to “pissed off.”

  “How ‘bout this, Ali? We shoulda told him that we’re lovers sneaking around for the day. We coulda told him we might go on like this forever or this might be our only day together, ever, ‘cause you won’t leave your husband because, um, oh, maybe you could fill in that part! Please, refresh my memory for me. Why is it that we can’t be together? Why don’t we even get a fucking chance? You’re not trying to patch things up with him, or you sure as hell wouldn’t be here today. Maybe you’re just yanking my chain and this is what you do all the time!”

  “I’m not, Cam, I…”

  “How would I know? You fucked me the first day you saw me.”

  I jerked back at the verbal slap.

  “For all I know, maybe you do this all the time, and just make up crazy stories about your husband cheating. He could be an upstanding guy for all I know.”

  “Nice. I guess you’re the discerning one with all the morals. You waited until what, our third or fourth date to fuck, right?” He shrugged and bit his lip, knowing I’d nailed him on the old double-standard. “You know what? This day has been a real wake-up call. I know I can’t go on forever, pretending my marriage is okay. I know I have shit I need to take care of, but I’m sure as hell not flushing my kids’ lives down the toilet so I can go shack up with some jackass who talks to me like you do. You know, I could say that, for all I know, you spend your days bending housewives over their coffee tables. How’s that feel?”

  I swung my leg off the bike, knocking the inside of my knee against the seat, which only made me more angry. “And this, this fucking mistrust you pull out and use against me, this is exactly why we have no future, Cam. None. Because you’ll always remember I cheated on Bill, and you’ll expect me to do it to
you. So save us both the heartache, okay? I’m gonna go get a cab home, and you can go shove your big bike up your ass, if it’ll fit past that headful of high moral standards!”

  My stomping retreat was immediately halted by Cam’s arm snagging me and pulling me toward him. Smashed against him, I thrashed and pushed, pummeled and kicked, but made no headway. The realization that he was keeping me captive with only one arm while his other held the bike up brought home the futility of my attempts to escape.

  “Fucker!” I choked against him. “Dick! Chauvinist, self-righteous prick! Bully!” Then I was bawling too hard to make any words.

  Cam merely held me, rubbing the back of my neck since he no longer had to restrain me.

  “I hate you,” I finally muttered, though it didn’t sound at all convincing.

  “I hate you, too. You know why? ‘Cause you can hurt me so much without even trying.”

  I sniffed, and a little of my anger subsided, knowing what he said was true. I really had hurt him, but I’d been conscious of it, which made me guiltier still.

  “I’m sorry, Ali. I had no right to say those things. But please, God, don’t say we have no future. I swear to you on my life, I will never use what we’ve been doing against you again. Never. I promise. I know I shouldn’t pressure you about Bill. I’m just not a really patient guy. I’m so sorry.”

  It felt strange standing there, getting an apology. I usually gave them, since Bill seemed to have a hard time pronouncing the word “sorry.” Not only did Cam pronounce it, but he promised not to repeat the same wrong again. “I’m sorry too.”

  “Come on,” he said, wiping my tears with the hem of his shirt, “I need to visit the Free Press.”

  “Why?”

  “That was a digital camera the reporter was using. I’ll talk him into deleting the pictures.”

  “It’s okay,” I sighed, “this needs to be resolved sooner or later, anyway.”

  He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Do you want to get caught?”

  I shrugged. “Before the luncheon, I fantasized about Bill coming home unannounced and catching you and I together.”

  “But now you don’t?”

  “It wouldn’t be as good now that he knows I’m aware of his affair. Now he’d know it was for revenge, whereas before, he’d have felt he wasn’t sexually sufficient.”

  “Like he made you feel? I guess that’s only natural. Twisted, but natural. You sure you don’t want me to stop the newspaper guy? Okay then, let’s get moving. We’re behind schedule now.”

  “Schedule?”

  “Yeah, I had the whole day planned, except the photos and the fight.”

  “And what else is in the plans?” I asked as we rode back to the street.

  “Giving you more to hate me for, when you’re thinking about me for the next month,” he called back over a ripped shoulder.

  A man with a plan, he was. And I was disastrously unarmed. He parked the bike and me in front of a sweet shop next, and came out with a hunk of fine chocolate, which he broke off in tiny bits and slipped alternately between my lips and his. The backs of his fingers feathered over my face, my ear, my neck, ‘til his palm cupped the back of my head while he stared intently into my eyes. “You will miss me,” he murmured.

  “What is this, Hypnosis by Chocolate?”

  “Yeah. How’m I doing?” His face got really blurry then, and it wasn’t because of that cloak of numbness I liked to wrap myself in.

  He smiled softly, and asked, “That good, huh?”

  “Oh, don’t act all sympathetic when you want me to feel lousy. I don’t even know, any more, if leaving town is a really good idea or a really bad one.” I knew I didn’t want to be away from him and yet, I needed to go so I wouldn’t lose my mind. “Are you still gonna find a new girlfriend?”

  “Are you still gonna stay married?” he asked evenly.

  Somehow I’d known that would be his answer. “I’m not having sex with him.”

  “Does it bother you for me to have sex with my girlfriends?”

  It did, but there was no way I’d say it. “I don’t have a right to say you can’t.” He knew I wouldn’t stop him. I’d said so from the beginning.

  “I’m glad we got that settled. What time do you have to be back?”

  “The boys have baseball practice. My girlfriend takes them and brings them home about five.”

  “Good. We have time for another hill.” My rear end was starting to hurt, but I wasn’t about to complain. Besides, I could tell I wasn’t even pulling my own weight when we rode to the top of the hill, a mile or so past where the truck was parked. This time, going fast was stimulating. I felt disappointed when we stopped at the truck—the speed-buzz was addictive.

  He drove us home on the scenic route, via the high mesa along Highway 89 and then down to Wickenburg and into our corner of Phoenix. We talked about our kids and our childhoods, and I held my breath past every side road, hoping maybe he’d pull over and make love to me on the seat of his truck. I was quiet against him when we pulled into his driveway. When he told me goodbye, I vowed not to cry and held myself to it. His kiss was long and sweet through the window of the Mustang and then I sped away, concentrating hard on the Def Leppard song pumping through my top-of-the-line sound system.

  I parked in my garage and walked inside at four-thirty. Bill’s Navigator was already in its bay.

  He met me in the hallway and looked me up and down. I didn’t normally go around in workout clothes. “Hey,” he said carefully. “Thought you were at baseball practice.”

  “Susan took the boys.”

  “Oh. Where’ve you been?”

  “Bicycling.”

  “You didn’t put your bike in the Mustang!”

  “No, I didn’t,” I replied impatiently, brushing past him on my way to the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and turned to face him. “I was riding with a friend who has a tandem bike.”

  Bill considered my answer while I swallowed water. “A male friend?” His eyes narrowed.

  The moment of truth had arrived. “Yep.”

  “Alison!” He was shocked, and though it wasn’t as rewarding as having him see me with Cam’s shaft between my lips would have been, it did bring a warm glow. “I broke it off with Brianna.”

  “Bully for you. Because I caught you, or because you were busted at work?”

  “It just felt wrong. She meant nothing to me.”

  “Whatever. We both know Reingold and Gates took you out behind the woodshed after the luncheon. I do golf there still. And Julie is my ally, Stupid.”

  Caught in another lie, Bill stood there with his face red.

  “So, are you planning to bring her here at night after the boys and I clear out for Colorado?”

  His face got a darker red. “I really did break it off. And I’d never do that in our home. Never.”

  Still no apology from Mr. Smyth.

  “Well, thank God our home is sacred to you. Too bad the wedding vows weren’t,” I called back as I climbed the stairs to go shower.

  I’d stripped down and was rubbing the bruise on the inside of my leg when he came into the bathroom.

  “Ali, I love you… What happened to you?”

  His concern was genuine, but I wasn’t the least bit touched.

  “I’m fine.” Ignoring his proclamation, I slammed the shower door shut in his face.

  All Fore Revenge

  Chapter 5

  I skipped breakfast the next day and replaced it with a big helping of Feeling Sorry for Myself.

  It was time to start packing for the trip to Colorado. I tried to focus on how much I enjoyed being there. It was my home. I could visit all my old friends at will and let the boys make the rounds with their friends, cousins, and Grandmas.

  This time, going to Colorado would be both an escape and an exile. I planned to shack up in my childhood home, a small house on a hundred acres in the sticks. Bill had bought it from my mom four years before. He�
��d given me the title for our tenth anniversary, enabling her to move to town and live in a house which was all her own. He’d known I didn’t want her to be so far from town alone, or have the maintenance headaches the old house was beginning to present with increasing regularity.

  Bill really had no idea of the value of what he’d given me, however. The house gave me my own space to work in, during the summer, when I seemed most inspired. Sometimes I’d go days at a time without venturing into town. Some of those days I’d work from dawn to dusk without stopping to eat, or I might boot up the laptop at midnight in nothing but a tank top and undies, if the muse hit me just as I was nodding off.

  Maybe this year those periods of mental clarity would help me decide what to do with the mess I called my life.

  Knowing it would help my mood and I wouldn’t exercise the next day, I decided to workout. After starting a CD of nature sounds, I stretched. I’d done two sets of Sun Salutations when my doorbell rang. It was a deliveryman with three huge bouquets of flowers, one in his arms and two in vases at his feet. I accepted the flowers, pulled them into the foyer, and closed the door behind him.

  Sitting on the floor surrounded by them, I momentarily wondered how I’d feel if they were from Bill. But they weren’t, since one bouquet was almost all forget-me-nots.

  I slipped the card from the holder in the first vase. The flowers were mainly red, with a small white accent flower. It smelled heavenly. The card read,

  RED

  Carnations symbolize an aching heart

  Tulips, passion, the tip of cupid’s dart,

  Roses for love off to a start.

  Gardenia—remember our secret lust when we’re apart.

  I sighed and smelled the gardenia again, wishing I’d be around to enjoy them before they faded away.

  The next bouquet was woodsy, spidery flowers of different colors, sticks of shrub with tiny yellow blooms, and feathery ponderosa boughs. I opened the little envelope and read: