Betrayal (16 page)

Michele had been humiliated beyond belief, and had yet to tell her friend what happened at the door. Now that some time had passed, and she’d gotten over the embarrassment, she told Fiona everything.

“Girl, I am so sorry,” Fiona said, as if it were her fault.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m working on a plan to ensure that that will never happen to me again in my life!” she said with conviction.

“What are you talking about? What plan?”

“A plan that will soon have my name on every VIP list in town.”

“And how’s that going to work?” Fiona asked, still clueless.

“It’s going to work, because I’ve found the perfect sponsor,” Michele said, nearly bubbling over with excitement.

“Sponsor?”

“Yes, someone to usher me beyond the velvet ropes.” “And who might that be, pray tell.”

Michele hesitated for a second. She and Fiona shared mostly everything, but she didn’t know if this was something that was shareable. Michele realized her scheme was far-fetched, and thought twice about verbalizing it, but if there was one person who wouldn’t judge her motives, it was Fiona. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand, and whispered, “Preston.”

“Preston!” Fiona shrieked through the receiver.

So much for judgments
. Michele could tell by Fiona’s tone that she was surprised. “Yes, Preston. Why do you sound so shocked?”

“First of all, he’s your boyfriend’s father,
and
your boss. Have you lost your mind?”

“On the contrary, I’ve finally woken up. Trey is never going to be the man I want him to be, and truth be told, I don’t think he’ll ever pop the proverbial question, not that I would accept anyway. I know what I’m saying is a stretch, but hey, what do I have to lose?” She waited a few seconds to hear what Fiona was going to say, but there was silence on the other end, so she continued. “Come on, think about
the situation. Ariel cheated on Preston with Trey. Trey lied to his father about his business dealings. Preston had a stroke and forgot those two
major
details. So what do you think is going to happen once his memory returns?” she asked rhetorically, not expecting an answer. “Well, I’ll tell you. Preston is going to divorce Ariel with a quickness, and who do you think will be there to help him grieve the loss?
Moi!
That’s who,” Michele said, full of herself.

Fiona couldn’t believe her ears. She was aware of Michele’s desperation to be embraced into the fold, but she didn’t think Michele would go this far. “Girl, you know that I love you, and I only want the best for you, but …”

“But what?” she asked, full of indignation.

“I think you’re taking this a little too far. What happened between Ariel and Preston is their business, and—”

“And nothing,” Michele huffed. “It would’ve been their business if my man wasn’t involved, which I saw up close and personal with my own eyes. Trey and Ariel roped me into this lie for their own benefit. Now it’s time that I get some satisfaction out of the deal. I’m tired of being their puppet on a string. Now I’m ready to pull some strings of my own.”

Listening to Michele rant, Fiona knew that talking her out of this outrageous plan was futile, so she asked the million-dollar question. “So how are you going to sway Preston over to your side?”

“I really don’t want to talk anymore about this over the phone,” she said, looking over her shoulder, making sure Preston was still in his office with the door closed. “Just know that I’ve thought long and hard over the past few days, and I’ve devised the perfect scheme. But with Ariel out of town for probably one more week, I have to move fast. And speaking of moving fast, I’ve got to go, time is a-wasting.” She chuckled. “Fiona, don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control. I’ll talk to you soon,” she said, hung up, and focused her attention back on her computer.

Michele had been doing research on the Internet all morning, but the material she was looking for had nothing to do with work. It had taken her nearly an hour, but she finally found the perfect article. She
hit the print icon on her computer, and waited for the information that she had Googled to download. Once the article printed, she folded it, wrote a note on a yellow sticky with her left hand so that her handwriting would not be recognizable, and stuck the note on top of the article. Michele switched screens on her computer so that Preston couldn’t see what she was working on in case he came out of his office. She addressed the envelope with the same script, put a stamp on it, walked outside, and put it in the mailbox that was less than a half a block away. Once she heard the envelope drop into the blue box, she smiled a sly grin, and walked back to the town house.

Michele sat at her desk, and pulled up the screen she had been working on earlier, and printed out a different article. Instead of mailing this one, she slid the pages in with Preston’s mail.
Showtime
, she said to herself, and knocked on his office door.

“Come in,” she heard him say through the closed door.

“Good morning, Preston,” she said, in a professional voice.

He looked up from the newspaper he was reading, and stared at her in disbelief, almost doing a double take at her outfit. Michele wore a gray gabardine pantsuit with a white mock turtleneck. The three-button jacket was buttoned up, with a pearl brooch on the left lapel. Her hair was swept back in a neat bun, exposing a pair of tiny pearl earrings that matched the pendant. Her overall appearance was extremely conservative, even down to her gray flannel round-toe Ferragamos with the demure patent-leather bow. The suit wasn’t too tight like most of her clothes; it fit perfectly. He was used to seeing the imprint of her nipples through her snug silk blouses, but today her breasts were shielded behind the wool blazer and turtleneck, with no cleavage in sight. She even wore a pair of square, black-framed glasses. If he didn’t know better, Preston would have thought that a stranger had entered his office. Usually, she looked like a party girl ready for a hot date, but today Michele resembled a prim Republican.

Obviously, she took my suggestions regarding her wardrobe to heart
, Preston thought. He was glad that Michele had toned down her style of dress, but she had gone from one extreme to the other. The outfit made her look ten years older, and wiser.

“Nice pantsuit.” He smiled.

“Thank you. I thought about what you said, and you were right. I’m in Washington now, and need to dress like a political aide, and not a barmaid,” she replied, without cracking a smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that you dressed like a barmaid, but I must admit that I like this style better. When did you start wearing glasses? They make you look like a librarian.”

“I’ve been wearing glasses since grade school. Normally, I wear contacts, but my eyes were irritated this morning so I decided to wear my glasses instead,” she said, adjusting the arm of the frames.

“Oh, I see.”

“Here’s your mail.” She handed him a stack of correspondence. “If you need anything else, I’ll be at my desk,” she said, sounding like an efficient robot without any emotion.

He couldn’t help but stare at her transformation; even her demeanor was subdued. Her usual bubbly personality was replaced by a more reserved one. She wasn’t full of idle small talk, just handed him the mail and left.

Once she was gone, Preston shook his head, still marveling at her drastic change. Though he approved of her new look, a part of him would miss her daily peep show (after all, he was a man and wasn’t immune to the female anatomy). Preston sorted through the various letters, business periodicals, and law reviews. He thumbed through a copy of
Newsweek
, and then put it aside. There was nothing exciting in the morning mail, so he picked up the stack of papers to put them in the “file” bin, but a piece of paper slipped out and fell on the floor. He picked up the document; it was an article from the Internet. He looked it over, and began reading. Preston finished the first page, but the article wasn’t over. The story was intriguing, so he fished through the stack of papers for the second page. He breezed through the rest of the article and couldn’t help but wonder what it was doing in his mail, since the story had nothing to do with politics. The piece was entitled “Off the Radar,” and it focused on underground sex clubs. One establishment in particular, the Black Door, seemed familiar, but he didn’t know why, since the story mentioned that men were excluded from membership. Preston
knew there was no way that he had ever been inside, but the name rang a bell nonetheless.
What’s this doing in my mail?
he wondered. Preston pressed the intercom. “Michele, can you come in please?”

“Did you need me, Preston?” she asked, once she entered his office.

He held up the computer printout. “Did you see this?”

She squinted her eyes, “What is it?”

“An article on underground adult entertainment clubs; is this yours?”

“Uh, yes.” She put her hand to her mouth as if embarrassed. “A friend of mine is doing her dissertation on sex in America, and I agreed to help with the research. I must have accidentally put the printout in your mail.” She walked over to his desk. “I’m sorry; I’ll take that,” she said, and reached out for the pages.

“No problem.” He handed her the article. “Michele, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Preston, what is it?”

“For some reason, this place called the Black Door sounds slightly familiar and I don’t know why. Have you ever heard of this club before?”

Michele hunched her shoulders. “Can’t say that I have.” She folded the pages in half, and stuck them in the folder that she carried. “Did you need anything else?”

“No, that’s all.”

Once Michele was seated back at her desk, she took the article out of the folder, and smiled slyly. The first phase of her plan had worked brilliantly. She purposely changed her style of dress to please Preston. She hated the drab gray color and detested covering up her “assets,” but the outfit was an essential part of the plan. Preston was a sophisticated man with upscale tastes, and she wanted to appear refined to draw him closer. The way he stared at her when she walked into his office was a clear indication that her dull wardrobe had a positive effect on him. Besides, she had to appear like someone he’d be proud to be seen with in public.

The second phase was to plant a seed in his mind, and that’s exactly what the article did. Michele knew that she couldn’t come right out
and talk about the Black Door without raising suspicions, so she found a story on the Internet about underground sex clubs. She didn’t admit to knowing about the Black Door, because she wanted Preston to discover Trey’s deception on his own. If she said too much, she would seem like a blabbermouth. And who liked a tattletale? Instead, she planned to drop hints and chip away at his memory until the picture of Trey and Ariel’s betrayal was as clear as a piece of Steuben crystal. She had done research on short-term memory loss, and read that subtle reminders of the past could help restore a person’s recollection. Michele had planted a few more land mines to help with his recovery. She only hoped that his memory returned before Ariel did, and if it didn’t, she would have no other choice but to seduce him. He was a man after all, and what man could resist her brand of loving?

ARIEL HAD
had one hell of a trying day. She’d spent the morning deposing witnesses, which was something she hadn’t done in ages. Most partners rarely took depositions, except in special cases, and this case was major, so she had made an exception. She and the other partner on the case spent the entire afternoon behind closed doors, huddled over documents and discussing strategy. They were going to trial in a few days, and their case had to be airtight. After strategizing for hours on end, they were confident that they had an open-and-shut case. They then dashed off to meet with the client over dinner. By the time Ariel stepped foot into the corporate apartment, all she wanted to do was take a shower, put on her nightgown, and crawl into bed. And she did just that.

Ariel was underneath the covers, ready to turn out the light and get some rest when it occurred to her that she hadn’t spoken to her husband all day. She’d been so busy that she hadn’t even missed hearing from him until now. She reached for the phone on the nightstand and dialed her home number. After a few rings, he picked up.

“Why haven’t you called me?” she asked right away, skipping the pleasantries.

“Well, hello to you too. I did call but I kept getting your voice mail, so I decided to wait until you called me,” he explained.

Ariel had completely forgotten that her cell was turned off. She didn’t want any distractions while working on the case. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be interrupted, so I didn’t turn on my phone this morning. I should have put it on vibrate in case you called. Do you forgive me?” she asked in a pleading tone.

“I figured as much. Of course I forgive you.”

Hearing his words of forgiveness made Ariel think back on her meeting with Trey, and she silently prayed that Preston would utter those same words once they told him the truth. Ariel knew that it was a lot to ask for, but she asked anyway.
Please, God, let Preston understand, and have mercy on us. Please let him forgive our betrayal
.