If Roy Colby had any escape from the pressures of work and family, it was through his friendship with Tim Landry, his colleague at Simpson-Tierney. The two had moved up the ladder together, each pursuing different specializations, each outperforming the competition. If anyone doubted their competitive spirit, they need only observe the two during a round of golf or handball to realize what bloodthirsty creatures they could be.

  Tonight was very special for Roy. With his promotion to full partner, he would receive a precious slice of company in the form of privately-held stock certificates.

  Ironically, it was his friend Tim who had set up the stock reward under the watchful eyes of Chadwick Simpson, the firm’s co-owner. Janine couldn’t help noticing the jealousy in Tim’s voice when he told her about Roy’s promotion and Simpson’s insistence he personally construct the deal.

  But that wouldn’t show tonight. The Colby estate swarmed with Simpson-Tierney’s tuxedo-clad attorneys, and Mr. Simpson himself who was accompanied by the late Roscoe Tierney’s daughter, Francine.

  The Landrys arrived fashionably late due to Tim’s last minute scribbling of his presentation speech. It was a warm August evening in Seattle and the Colby’s central-air conditioning system strained to cool down the twenty-eight guests.

  It only took a few seconds for Tim to immerse himself with his drinking cronies while abandoning his wife with a gentle pat on the hip. “I’m going to run down the man-of-the-evening. See if you can find Sandra. We’ll compare notes later.”

  Janine force a smile and sashayed through the crowd, clasping hands and greeting people she knew from previous affairs, including the fabulous catered dinners at her own home. All the while, her eyes were focused on the staircase leading to the upstairs master bedroom.

  She broke through the crowd and gripped the banister. Careful, Ms. Landry. Don’t let them notice.

  “Sandy, you in there?”

  Sandra Colby opened the master bedroom door and gestured for her friend to follow her across the plush lavender carpet into the bathroom. She closed the bathroom door and plunked down on the maroon toilet seat, her hand extending a lit joint.

  The joint felt good on Janine’s lips. She took a deep drag and swallowed the pungent smoke. She smiled at the brown joint. “We have enough for another hit.”

  Sandra snatched the nearly consumed joint from her friend’s finger and thumb. She placed it deftly between a tweezers and sucked the life out of it. A quick lift of the toilet seat and the butt was history.

  Janine leaned against the sink and took a relaxing breath. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

  Sandra pushed back her auburn hair. “Never mind the hit. Tell me how he was.”

  “Who?”

  Sandra sighed impatiently. “The mystery man.”

  Janine stared at her friend who was spraying a shot of deodorant in the air.

  Sandra placed the can of spray on the vanity counter. “Tell me everything, honey. I could use a little mind candy.”

  Janine gave her the evil eye. “Not funny.”

  Sandra leaned forward. “Come on, what’s a little mind candy between friends.” She shrugged. “Hell, I wouldn’t blame you after putting up with that jerk.”

  Janine breathed a sigh of relief. Her friend was just busting her. She cracked a smile and turned to the mirror, her finger correcting an invisible flaw on her eyelash.

  Sandra eyed the beautiful woman in the mirror. “Hell, you’re some looker, girlfriend. Great bod, great skin, great cheekbones, perfect lips, and all of it natural. Good thing I’m not gay cause I’d jump your bones in a heartbeat.”

  Janine pursed her lips. “You’re just high. Come on, we should get back to your party.”

  Sandra shook her head. “With those slugs? The thought of putting up with them for the next five years makes me want to scream.”

  Janine knew what she meant. They had talked about the Colby’s escape plan for months. In five years, Roy and his artistic wife would accumulate enough wealth to flee their corporate shackles for a life of travel, art, and creative writing. The perfect conclusion to the perfectly planned careers of two very talented people. They would only be in their late-forties with a bright new world in front of them.

  Janine straightened her gown and forced a smile. “Know something?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I envy you, bitch.”

  Sandra cracked a smile and pushed off the toilet seat. She flung her arm around her friend and whispered. “Hell, you’ll be there in a bit. The kids will be grown and on their own, and you can dump that jerk and live a great life.”

  Janine gave her a dirty look, but said nothing.

  The evening dragged on with Tim, Roy, and their cronies sipping champagne while engaging in the usual war stories. Their abandoned wives formed the usual cliques, each trying to outdo the other with the latest drivel about their newest Botox treatment, incredible fashion boutique, and thrilling vacation in French Polynesia. Janine hung in like a good corporate wife while eyeing her increasingly inebriated husband who seemed to be growing louder by the minute.

  Sandra finally put an end to the debacle when she banged an antique gong and announced it was time for the ceremony.

  An army of servants rushed into the room carrying trays of fresh coffee and tea, a definite signal for everyone to stifle the booze while taking a seat in the nearest chair, couch, staircase, or receptive lap.

  The award ceremony lasted twenty minutes. First, a few kind words from Mr. Simpson who could barely stand after two heart attacks and increasingly debilitating emphysema.

  Francine Tierney stood beside the old man, ready to jump in if he couldn’t go on, but the aging billionaire mustered the stamina to pull it off. He concluded his boring speech with a champagne toast to Roy who stood up amidst a burst of applause from the seated audience.

  Tim’s award speech was more a roast than tribute to his friend. Janine noticed a few winces when her husband blurted out some off-color remarks about Roy’s cheating at golf. When Tim finished his speech, he suddenly dropped the levity and grasped his friend’s arm while presenting him with the stock options.

  Kind words were spoken as the two men embraced. Some women dabbed tears and everyone broke into shouts of “Bravo!” and “Good show!”

  The party ended at midnight with the customary “kissy kisses” and kind words from the departing guests. Tomorrow, some of the guys would head to the nearest golf course to pursue new clients while chasing the little white ball around Seattle’s fairways. Others would rush to their offices to work their butts off while dreaming of an evening like this.

  Janine insisted on driving home after watching her husband fumble with his keys. Tim put up a mild protest, but finally succumbed to his wife's concerned plea.

  Janine was climbing into the driver’s seat when Sandra gripped her arm and gave her a hug. Sandra’s whisper told it all. “I’m here for you, girlfriend.”

  They were pulling into their driveway when Tim plunged his hand inside her low-cut gown, awkwardly kneading her left breast. He collapsed against her and buried his face in her hair. “God, you smell good. You’re so beautiful.”

  She managed to ease the car into the stall and close the garage door while absorbing his probing hand, which had now pulled down her gown and mini-bra, exposing two perfect breasts.

  She gripped his hand. “I take it you want something?”

  Tim glanced at the two empty stalls on their right. “The kids aren’t home. By the time they pull in, we’ll be under the covers.”

  She started to speak, but his wet lips smothered her words. She could feel his erect member poking her hip as he pressed against her, probing her flesh.

  She pushed him back. “What brought this on?”

  “I have to explain? Hell, I want you babe.”

  She helped him up the staircase and snaked her arm around him as they staggered toward the bedroom door. For an instant she felt encouraged, like things were changing for the better. That ended when she stepped out of the bathroom, her naked body glistening in the soft light.

  “Honey?” She eased beside the bed and looked down at the unconscious hulk sprawled on his back, his erection long gone, and she felt the fire rise in her belly.

  “Goddamn you! Goddamn you to hell!”

  “Huh ... what?”

  She staggered into the bathroom, tears streaming down her cheeks. She climbed into the shower and broke down — and she knew what must be done.

  CHAPTER 9

  Monday

  Janine watched her husband’s silver Porsche coast down their wet horseshoe driveway. The car turned right on Pike and splashed through a puddle before disappearing around a curve. It would take Tim an hour to reach Simpson-Tierney on this rainswept Monday morning.

  She folded her arms and looked at the gray sky while recalling the past twenty-four hours.

  Sunday had been pure hell with Tim getting his wish to spend some quality time with his family. It had begun with a brief service at Overlake Park Presbyterian Church followed by a light breakfast at I-hop’s. Then the exhausting trek along Lake Washington until Janine finally raised her hand in submission. A quick trip home to shower and change, and the family was off to McNulty’s, Tim’s favorite local restaurant.

  No surprise that Hank and Marla had ulterior motives when they jumped at the chance to spend the day with dear old dad. For Hank, it was his father’s okay to acquire the upper-body Samoan tattoo Hank coveted. Overcome by his son’s unexpected display of affection, Mr. Landry readily approved Hank’s request without realizing the colorful tattoo would resemble a “with the works” pizza burned into his son’s chest and shoulders.

  Janine frowned while recalling Marla’s pathetic account of her embarrassment when she couldn’t get her Mustang’s top down in front of her classmates. Then her daughter’s little girl act when she snuggled against dear old dad while whining about everything from the Mustang’s inferior paint job to its unresponsive steering. The baby talk and hugs were more than enough to soften her love-starved father who embraced his child while declaring, “I’ll take care of it, honey.”

  “You mean a new car?”

  Then the flood of kisses from his little girl when Mr. Landry agreed to fork out enough cash to lease a brand new Mercedes, “Just like Mom’s.”

  Janine glared at the rain-spattered window while fighting the words. Spoiled rotten. I should have shaken it out of her years ago.

  She was halfway up the staircase when a familiar voice called out from the dining room.

  “You there, Mrs. Landry?”

  She hesitated and looked down at Alicia who had stepped into the foyer.

  Alicia rested her hands on her apron and smiled. “You okay, Mrs. Landry?”

  “I’m fine, Alicia. It’s this damn cold. I must have picked it up at the party.”

  Alicia nodded. “Gotta watch those summer colds, ma’am. They can be fierce.” She undid her apron and pushed back a stray black hair. “Dinner’s made for the mister and kids. I cleaned the kitchen and dining room. Want me to vacuum before I go?”

  “No need.”

  “Want me back tonight?”

  Janine smiled. “I’ll be home to make dinner.”

  Alicia nodded and folded her apron. “You take care, ma’am. I’ll be here Wednesday at nine.”

  Janine spent the next few minutes at the master bedroom window watching Alicia shuffle down the puddled driveway to the front walk where she turned toward the bus stop on the corner. She could see Alicia was exhausted from caring for two families, the Landry’s and her own. Not easy for an immigrant to make it in this world, but Alicia had the right stuff — a strong back, tough spirit, and loving heart. Maybe she and her handyman husband wouldn’t live to see the fruits of their labor, but their three children would, and that’s all that mattered to the Cardonas.

  She brushed away a tear and watched her babushka-clad maid step into the bus, and she felt the words slip from her mouth. “God, I envy you. Oh, how I envy you.”

  The pendulum clock on the vanity table was chiming ten when Janine snapped out of her trance. For the past hour, she’d sat on the edge of the bed clutching her cell phone in one hand and Mr. Haden’s card in the other. The ink on the card had blurred from her perspiration.

  She fell back on the bed, her eyes gazing at the powder blue ceiling, her hands clinging to the phone and card. Ann’s words rang in her ears—

  Don’t get lost, girlfriend! Never know who’s out there!

  She sat up and glared at the rain-spattered bedroom window. “No ... not this way. Not after eighteen years.” She snatched her purse off the bed and slipped the card in her wallet.

  The warm shower felt good against her body, but it couldn’t erase Saturday night’s horrid memory. She still felt her hands clutching her bare stomach when she stood naked in front of him, her heart pounding in anticipation of her first male-induced orgasm in years, and her anguish when she realized he’d passed out on the bed, his mind and member numbed by his drunken stupor.

  She pressed her hands against the shower’s marble wall and ducked her head under the nozzle.

  Let it go, woman. It’s too late. You can’t erase twenty years.

  She rested her head against the marble and cried her guts out.

  She was dabbing on her mascara when Marla’s voice echoed through the upstairs hall.

  “Mom, come see my new black beauty!”

  She frowned and put down the mascara pencil.

  Marla was standing at the foot of the staircase, her brown eyes dancing with excitement, her white teeth bared in a childish grin.

  Janine glanced at the opened front door. “You have it already?”

  Marla nodded and ran through the opened door. “It’s so beautiful.”

  And it was beautiful — a new Mercedes C, complete with a metallic black finish, black convertible top, and camel leather seats. Dad had really come through for his little angel.

  Janine opened the passenger door and rubbed the soft leather. “Smells good.”

  Marla slipped into the driver’s seat, her face beaming. “I hope that smell lasts forever.”

  “Take me for a spin?”

  Marla gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, Mom, I promised Jake I’d give him a ride before he’s off to swimming practice.

  Janine’s eyes widened. “Jake Framley? Laura’s boy?”

  “In the flesh, and what a bod.”

  “What about Sten?”

  “He’s a jerk.”

  “A...?”

  “Sorry, gotta go.” Marla patted her mom’s hand.

  Janine closed the passenger door. “You be careful, honey. The roads are slick and these cars can fly.”

  “No problem.”

  “You’ll be home for dinner?”

  Marla’s smile faded. “Dinner?”

  Janine nodded. “You know how sensitive your father is. He just bought you a stunning car.”

  Marla raised her hand in a blocking gesture. “Let’s not go overboard. It’s just leased. It’s not like he shelled out big bucks.”

  Janine glared at her daughter. “Then do it for me.”

  Marla turned the ignition key and pressed her foot on the accelerator. “I’ll think about it.”

  Janine backed away as the Mercedes raced down the horseshoe drive and veered onto Pike with an alarming skid. She stood there for a moment, her eyes staring at the deserted driveway. The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the gray morning clouds. She sighed and glanced at her watch. It would take an hour to reach the museum.

  CHAPTER 10

  Charles Haden

  Seattle looked particularly beautiful on this warm August afternoon. The Space Needle towered above the city beside the seventy-story Columbia Center and fifty story Third Avenue Tower. To the southeast, Mount Rainier rose majestically into the brightening sky, its snow-covered peak jutting through the thinning clouds.

  It was lunchtime and the city bustled with pedestrians and cars. Janine parked the Mercedes in a garage on Union Street and set off on foot. Minutes later, she was standing at the intersection of Union and First Avenue, her eyes staring at the modern building across the street, and its high-tech marquee—

  S. A. M.

  A banner on a lamppost caught her eye—

  IF YOU NEVER VIEW ANOTHER WORK OF ART, DON’T MISS

  THE WHITE TIGER …

  It was 12:40 and the Seattle Art Museum was surprisingly busy for a Monday. She paid her admission and slipped through the turnstile into the crowd of milling patrons. She tried to maintain a nonchalant air, but she couldn’t suppress her anxiety as she rode the escalator to the tiger exhibit.

  The sculpture flashed in her mind, a six-foot-long alabaster tiger with snarling teeth and fierce blue eyes, its muscled body leaping at an invisible prey.

  She hesitated before entering the gallery. Easy, woman. He’s long gone. She brushed past a mother and her little boy, and stepped into the gallery.

  A group of schoolchildren were standing beside the roped-off tiger, their eyes gaping at the extended front legs and protruding claws.

  “Cool!” shouted one of the kids while poking his classmate in the ribs. The boy reached out to touch the tiger’s razor-sharp claws, but his teacher tugged him back.

  The bench facing the tiger was filled with onlookers, including a young woman with a sketchpad. Janine stared at woman deftly sweeping her charcoal stick across the pad.

  “Oh ... sorry.”

  Janine spun around when someone bumped into her.

  “Sorry, ma’am. You okay?”

  She smiled.

  The well-dressed man returned the smile and walked away.

  She shuffled forward with the others until she was standing at the ropes. Her eyes focused on snarling face, and she felt her heart skip.

  My god ... so real ... so alive.

 

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