Lovers and Liars (9 page)

“Hi, Mom,” the girl had said.

Her name was Mary. She was Mrs. Crandall’s daughter. She was in her early twenties and every guy’s wet dream. Especially his.

Vince had grown up poor in southern California when everyone seemed to be rich. Or at least richer than he was. He was raised in a slum neighborhood in L.A. He had two sisters; his mother was a waitress; his father had died (or so Mom said) before he was born. He had grown up with rats,
yellow water, and peeling paint, just blocks away from movie stars dripping diamonds in silver limos.

After high school it had gotten worse. He took up carpentry and soon was working on their homes. He had his first piece of rich tail when he was nineteen. He was working for a general contractor, who had sent him over to a Beverly Hills house to do some fix-it work. He had to put up towel holders in a bathroom (at thirty dollars an hour). The woman of the house was the wife of a hot screenwriter. She hovered over him clad in a short tennis dress. He was sweating and hard and embarrassed as hell, afraid to stand up, afraid she’d see and he’d lose his job. It was a damn good job. Not only did it pay well—he loved carpentry. But before he had even turned around, trying desperately to will his erection away, she grabbed him—and that was that.

He’d screwed at least a dozen rich broads by the time he met Mary. Mary was different. She was young. Beautiful. Not forty and jaded and bored and looking for a young stud as a kick. She had noticed him that day she was talking to her mother out at the pool. (What woman wouldn’t have? He was aware of how good he looked; plenty of women had let him know.) Two days later he had asked her out.

Six months later they were married.

When Vince reappeared in the kitchen, Mary and Beth were in the same position, still drinking and snorting. He gave them both a look of disgust and jumped into his truck. He drove to McDonald’s and had two Big Macs and a shake for dinner. Then he cruised around, thinking of Belinda, wishing he were buried deep inside her, pounding away. God, he was so horny.

To his relief Beth was gone when he got home, and Mary was in bed asleep. Or passed out. He sat down on the side of the bed, pulling off his sneakers. From behind, Mary wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry, Vince. Please don’t be mad.”

He could feel her cheek and hair against his bare back.

“Vince? Today just happened. I was so bored and Beth stopped by with the blow and time just got away from me. Please don’t be angry.” She kissed his shoulder.

He could feel her large breasts against his back, with their pebbly nipples. He imagined Belinda clinging to him like that, rubbing herself erotically against him. He grew hard.

“Vince?” She said his name softly in his ear.

Vince turned around, taking her in his arms. He kissed her, one hand groping along her soft flesh, thumbing already erect nipples. One thing about Mary. Drugs and alcohol seemed to make her hornier. He could never figure it out. He was the opposite.

She moaned and held his head as he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it. Then he stood, unsnapping his jeans and stepping out of them, kicking them onto the floor. He lowered himself on top of her, rubbing his blue-veined, throbbing prick against her pussy. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, her mouth demanding and fierce. Vince closed his eyes.

He imagined Belinda in his arms, so eager and excited. The jolt his thoughts gave him almost made him come right then and there. Belinda. He was careful to keep his eyes closed, determined to hang onto his fantasy. He slid into her. Belinda. He was in her, stroking, in and out, the sensation pure heaven. Gorgeous, gorgeous Belinda. He came.

11

M
ary rolled over, awareness coming as sleep left. She stretched. Sunlight was forcing its way through the closed curtains, and she reached up to lift an edge and peer out. A gorgeous, brilliant day. A glance at the alarm clock told her it was close to noon. Perfect. Her favorite soap came on at one. She stretched again.

As her senses became fully alert a throbbing heat began
to rise in her loins. She pressed her thighs together, wishing Vince were home. She thought about last night. One thing about Vince—he had a high sex drive, which was fortunate, because she did too. And he was still hot for her after two years of marriage. He had an incredible body.

Her desire increased. Last night had been fun. Booze and coke always made her crazy for sex. The funny thing was, she could never get off. Not that Vince knew. She wished she could tell him, so he could take more time with her and bring her to an orgasm. She just couldn’t climax in sex. Even straight. It was always so close, but forever elusive. She’d been faking it ever since she had started screwing around when she was sixteen.

She thought about one of the carpenters on Vince’s job, a new guy. Thinking about him made her ache unbearably. She was sure that if Vince were here now, she would come. She slid her hands between her legs and stroked herself, imagining the carpenter standing over her, naked, watching. She climaxed in a couple of minutes.

She got up and padded naked into the bathroom. God, Vince was right—the house was a total pigsty. Maybe she should pick up some coke and get inspired to clean it. She turned on the shower. The scale on the bathroom floor stared up at her. She debated weighing herself. She was positive she had gained two pounds this week. She knew if she got on the scale and saw it there, in bold numbers, she’d get depressed. I won’t eat today, she thought. The weekend was coming up and if she dieted hard for a couple of days, she could knock off the two pounds.

The problem was, she’d put them back on during the weekend.

Her mother had called yesterday. She wanted to see her this afternoon. Mary was definitely not going. The first words out of her mother’s mouth would be a comment on her weight and advice about diet. Her mother was thin. Maybe anorexic. She lived in Beverly Hills, not on the flats, and she was on her third divorce and working on her fourth marriage. She was a fanatic about health, exercise, diet, clothes, and her looks. Her current husband was only five
years older than Mary, some nothing actor. Her last husband had been a hotshot director and closer to her mother’s age (whatever that was). Her first husband, Mary’s father, produced avant-garde documentaries. Right now he was somewhere in Thailand. Last year he’d been in the Australian outback, the year before in China. Mary saw him once or twice a year.

After a shower she made a phone call and found she was in luck. She drove over to her friend’s house. Well, Ben wasn’t exactly her friend. Vince would shit if he ever found out about their relationship.

Ben owned a nice home, nothing like the small place they had. It was tastefully furnished too. Ben had made a lot of the furniture. He worked as a carpenter—when he felt like it. He greeted her and led her into the living room.

It had high ceilings and huge windows. In front of a gray leather couch was a glass-and-brass coffee table with a large pile of cocaine, a razor, straw, and a foil packet. “Have a line,” Ben said.

“Thanks.” Mary grinned. Ben let her do the honors, and she cut four fat lines, two for each of them. She instantly began to glow with self-love and jubilation. Life was grand.

Mary reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Vince would die if he could see her now, she thought. She counted them out, three hundred and twenty-five dollars.

Forty-five minutes later Mary was walking out the door. She climbed into her car. Feeling fucking wonderful. Beth was working today. She was a bartender. Mary decided to go down and have a drink. And sell what blow she could.

12

B
elinda slowed, cruising in her red MR2 at twenty miles an hour, looking for the job under construction. She had to concentrate. Coming here to see Vince for lunch was a spontaneous thing. She had never come down before, and she probably never would again. But she couldn’t keep her mind on work. Right now she wanted him. She wanted him pumping away inside her.

Last night had been a drag. There had been nothing interesting, no one she’d even consider taking home. And she had called Nancy from the bar. A few glasses of wine and she always seemed to lose her armor and she knew it. Nancy hadn’t ever defended her against Abe, not once in the twenty-eight years she’d been alive, so why did she hope for it now? Besides, she’d been doing well enough, coping with him on her own.

Abe had called back. He had demanded she meet him in Los Angeles tomorrow. He was flying in for a day or so, which wasn’t unusual; he frequently came to California on business.

“I can’t get down there tomorrow,” Belinda said tightly.

“Bullshit. You live forty-five minutes away. Have your ass over at the condo at eight
A.M
. for breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Because we have a discussion to finish and another one to begin.”

He rarely presented her with a summons. Belinda hated being ordered around. “Have you ever heard of the word
please?”

“Oh, Christ! Would you
please
come over tomorrow morning? And your mother wants to see you.”

“You’re bringing Mom?” Belinda was surprised. Nancy never accompanied Abe on his business trips.

“That’s right,” Abe said. “I’m taking her to a party.”

The construction site loomed before her, across the road. Belinda hung a U and pulled up in front of the chain fence. The house was framed, the roof under construction. A couple of bare-chested, tanned carpenters banging nails up there saw her and whistled. Belinda smiled and slowly got out of the car.

She was wearing a white denim miniskirt, high-heeled sandals, and a thin white tank top that clung to her bare bosom. Lots of gold bangles and black Anne Klein shades. She started through the gate. The hammering had stopped.

She looked up at the three men who were checking her out. “Vince around?”

“He’s out back,” the blonde called down.

Just then Vince appeared around the corner, bare-chested, his torso gleaming with sweat. He saw her and stopped dead.

She smiled wickedly and sauntered forward. Vince hurried to meet her. “Hi,” she said softly, putting her arms around his neck and pressing every inch she could against him.