Derailed (8 page)

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Rival hands me a whisky and natters on as we have dinner. “So, at that price, I paid for the porcelain tiles right away. Bought an extra batch as well in case we need replacements.”

“That’s good.”

“Oh, and I chose the blinds too. Got twenty percent off. Cool, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

After dinner, I study her as she darts around the kitchen. She’s wearing a pair of white shorts and a navy and white top. Her arse does look really good. Round and firm. And her tits bounce as she walks. It
is
sexy. Is that what Bradley is noticing each time he sees her?  

“The only problem is the solar pan –” Her eyes narrow at me. “Ritchie? What’s wrong?”

Your ex-husband says you have a great arse and nice tits. Oh, and he bought you a diamond ring. That’s what’s wrong
, I long to say.
It makes me wonder why? Why does he think he has a chance with you? Are you giving him some kind of vibe that leads him to think you want him again? I mean, I know you wanted him back in the beginning, but things are different now. And your tits are bouncing around. Shouldn’t you wear a less revealing top so that your cleavage does not scream out? Maybe get one of those bras that hide your tits?

Instead, I hear myself saying, “Just tired.” I get up, kick back my chair, walk up to her and wrap my arms around her. “Let’s go to bed.”

Her eyes fly to the clock on the wall. “It’s seven thirty, hon.”

I shrug. 

“I wanted to hit the treadmill for thirty minutes.”

“Tomorrow,” I say burying my face into her neck. “I just wanna hold you.”

“I’m putting on weight, Ritchie,” she complains. “I’m getting fat with happiness and it’s all your –”

“I’m not complaining,” I say as I continue my nuzzling and grab a handful of her arse. “I’m all about the base, no treble.”

She pulls her face away and smiles at me. “You think just because you want me, I will stop everything I’m doing and go to bed with you?”

I nod.

“You’re damn right!” she says with a chuckle.

I scoop her up and walk up the stairs.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you,” I ditto.

Hearing her laugh, having her arms wrapped around me, feeling her body under me, makes me forget all my insecurities and fears.

Chapter Six

RIVAL

Bradley’s gone to Melbourne for a few days on business. Alone, for some reason. But, the upside is, he’s agreed to the girls spending nights at Arena’s with me. Excited, I skip up to the house I once called home, where I ring the doorbell and wait. 

Scarlett, dressed in a sheer silk robe that threatens to show her crotch, throws open the door. “Well, well, well,” she says, her eyebrows disappearing behind her blunt fringe. “If it isn’t the book thief, if –”

“Where are my girls?” 

“– it isn’t the
other
woman, the –”

“Where the hell are my girls?” I hiss.

“– whore of the North Shore, looking pretty…” her eyes sweep over me, “– pretty
stupid
in pink. Been shopping at the Salvation Army again, have you?” She points to my pink candy-stripe top Holly and Phoebe bought me for Mother’s Day.

“I’ve come to fetch my kids, so please, shut the fuck up and bring them out to me.”

Her response is to step out of the house and shut the door behind her. “No can do, whore. So, since you’ve got some time, why don’t you run along to births, death, and marriage registry and change your surname. Both of us can’t be Mrs. Murdoch.”

“Like hell I’m going to change my surname for you.”

“Why not, Other Woman? This town ain’t big enough for two Mrs. –”

“I’m not the other woman. You are. As for the whore, next time you stand before your umpteen mirrors in
my
house, take a good look at the whore staring back at you. Now get my kids, will you?” Childish volley of insults, but it’s Scarlett I’m talking to, so I have to do as the Romans do. 

“The kids are not here, so why don’t you make like a banana and split, bitch?”

“You’re skating on thin ice here. You should realize that by now.” My voice is threatening.

“Who gives a fuck about ice? Not only am I a damn good skater, but I happen to be a mighty fine swimmer too. If the ice breaks, no problemo; I can handle it. Now
you
, you should be the one who is concerned.”

I stand, arms akimbo. “About what?”

“Well, let’s just say I always win at Monopoly, charades, Twister, egg and fucking spoon – you name it, I win it.”

I fold my arms across my chest and smile. “What about sack race? Bet you always win at that too?”

“I win at
everything,
bitch.”

“Is that a fact?”

“It sure is. Here’s another fact – I was runner up in
Australian Survivors.
”

“Wow, I’m impressed.” My head bobs. “Seriously.”

“The man who beat me, the one who came first, he was a cancer survivor. So, the fuckers rigged the game to make him win for publicity’s sake. That’s the only reason I was placed second.”

“Ahhhh! Now, that is some fact. Intriguing, even.”

Her smile dips at my sarcasm. “Here’s another fact; you stole my book and you published it.”

I jerk back. Is she recording this conversation? “Why Scarlett, whatever do you mean?”

“I want it back,” she says through clenched teeth.

I smile; she doesn’t. If she’s wearing a wire, I hope to God she gets…
electrocuted
. Somehow.

I chuckle. “What I don’t understand is, you’re pretty smart, intelligent even. Why don’t you use your skills to bring about good in the world? Use it to help others? Why do you use your skills to do perform dark, evil deeds?”

“Why? I’ll tell you why, you simpleton – it is to keep people like you in line, or you’d have an unfair advantage over those of us like me.”

“How? How did I have an unfair advantage? I was married to a simple, loving, family man, and I was a mother of two little children doing my best for them. I had mental issues, true, but they were under control. You, on the other hand, you were vibrant, intelligent, and a go-getter. Why come after
me
? I don’t get it.”

“Why? Because you had a rock that, under a little pressure and intense heat, would become a diamond. Flawless. I wanted that diamond. That’s why.”

“I see. Well, okay…so now that you have your intense heat and pressure, how’s it working out for you? You happy?”

“As happy as Pharrell Williams.” She pushes both palms to the ceiling. “Like a room without a roof.”

I jerk my head around. “And where is your diamond right now?”

There is a short silence before her eyes narrow. “You don’t take on someone like me and win. I will be the winner. Again. In fact, you don’t take on someone like me, period.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. 

“Well,” I scratch the side of my nose with a fingernail, “in the past, in
Australian
Survivor,
you weren’t number one, you were number two.” I smile. “That’s what you will always be,
Annie
; you will always be a number
two
to me. A big, fat, disgusting piece of number two.”

Her smile vanishes.

“While I, a mere simpleton, gets the guy, the book, the money, and the title of first lady.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Really.”

She smiles. “Well then, a wager is in order, don’t ya think?”

My head bobs. “Agreed.”

“Well, since he hasn’t left me for you, it means you don’t feature. But, I’ll humor you – bet you a dollar he’s not going to leave me.”

I nod. “A dollar it is.”

“Good. Now fuck off. The children are at my mother’s.”

“WHY? They weren’t supposed to be –”

She steps inside the house and shuts the door in my face.

I think about banging on the door, making a scene, but I’m not sure if the kids are around, and if they are, I don’t want to upset them in any way. Also, I’m aware that Mabel from across the street is watching.

As I walk away, I’m seething. Now more than ever I want to win. Her book talks about how she ensnared Bradley – let’s see her pen a chapter on how she lost him.

Smarting, I dial Bradley’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Hey, Brad, please call me when you can. Thanks.”

One dollar – I so much want to win that dollar.

RITCHIE

“I’m going to be sorry to say goodbye to this lovely bathroom,” I say to Rival as we shower together – our Sunday morning routine.

“But the bathroom in the new house will be even better,” she says as she soaps my chest.

“Even better?”

“Yeah.” She motions for me to turn around.

“Heaps better,” she says as she soaps my back. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you,” I say, turning around and taking the loofah from her.

As I soap her tits, I think about Bradley’s comments. “So, you’re seeing Bradley today?” 

“Bradley
and
my kids, Ritchie.” 

“Mm.”

“What?”

I shrug and gesture for her to turn around. “Just asking.”

A short silence follows.

Slowly, she turns around. “What are you gonna do today?”

“Wait for you.”

“Ritchie!”

“Well, I’m taking the kids to a movie later,” I say in a sulky voice.

“Ah. By the time you get back, I’ll be back. We’ll have dinner together, okay?”

“Mm.”

After we shower, I lie on my bed with my arms behind my head and watch her dress for Bradley. And the
kids
. 

She slips on a pair of jeans and turns sideways to look at herself in the mirror.

“Her arse, it’s so firm and…sweet.”

Her arse does look good in those jeans. Bradley will notice it. 

“New jeans?”

“Yeah. Nice, aren’t they? From Columbia.”

“From
Columbia
! Nice indeed.” It makes her butt come alive. But I refrain from telling her that.  

She turns to the other side and views her butt from a different angle. Then she strips off her jeans. Hurriedly.

“Why?” 

“I have another pair to try on,” she mutters as she fishes in the closet for another in the cupboard.

“
Another
pair of Columbian jeans for today? Lucky Bradley.”

Either she’s ignoring my sarcastic comments or she hasn’t heard me.

After spending another couple of minutes examining her arse in the mirror, she pulls on a top and views herself in the mirror. Then she removes that top and puts on another. Then she pulls off
that
top and puts on
another
. After three more tops, she finally settles for one that strains across her breasts.

“She never was like that before, Big. But now, she’s got arse and tits, and her body…”

Mm
.

Then she starts to apply makeup. I watch her line her eyes with black pencil, apply lots of mascara and a whole lot of other paint on her eyes and cheeks. I’m riveted at her lipstick ritual.
Two
lipsticks. At the
same
time. A dark one on the outside, a light one on the inside.

“Her lips…they’re so…so big and juicy…”

She uses a brush to blend them. Then she blots her lips with a tissue. Good – she was wearing too much lipstick anyway. But, my happiness is short-lived. She reapplies her lipsticks. Reapplies
both
of them. Slowly, in a trance-like state. As if she’s thinking about Bradley when she’s puts them on.

Then she drops her head forward, brushes her hair and throws it back again. Finally, she covers her eyes with one hand and sprays her hair with something – hairspray or some other shit – whatever it is, it makes her hair really shine.

After another few minutes of eyeing herself in the mirror, she nods and tries on a couple pairs of shoes. Five tries later and she settles for one.

“It’s like she’s another woman. Another version of Rival. A sexier one.”

Yes, it’s fascinating watching Rival glam up, put in so much thought when dressing. But the question is: why all the effort? Peeved, I get up from bed and walk onto my balcony. Watching her dress with such care to go to Bradley, after spending the night with me, loving me the way she did, brings back so many memories. Bad ones about Olga and Liefie and Cruikshank.
Drags
back a chapter in my life I’m trying really hard to shake off. But what do I do? I know Rival’s agenda and I have to accept it. Shouldn’t I?

“Hey!”

I turn around and look at Rival standing at the entrance to my balcony.

“You alright?”

I nod and look away. 

“What time are you leaving?” she asks.

I shrug.
What does it matter?

“Ritchie?”

I don’t look at her.

“Are you…are you
mad
at me?”

Slowly I turn to look at her. Even though I plan to say nothing, I’m not one to hold my tongue. With arms folded across my chest, I say, “You’ve put in a lot of effort to see Bradley.”

“What?”

“I’ve watched your ritual, and frankly Rival, it makes me wonder why you spend so much time, put in
that
kind of effort to see your ex, when we’re supposed to be together.”

After a long silence, she speaks. “I’m confused. Where’s this coming from?”

What does it matter where it’s coming from? The fact is I’m annoyed about it. Most of all, I long to tell her about my conversations with Bradley – how he finds her lips juicy and her arse sexy, but I can’t, because I have strayed true to Bradley and have never discussed his conversations with me about Rival.

She peers at me. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

I have to think about this one.

“Ritchie!”

Slowly, I drag myself past her and into my bedroom. She follows. I slip on a t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. 

“You’re going for a run? After you showered?”

I don’t answer. I need to let off steam, and running always helps me do that.