The Housewife Assassin's Handbook (20 page)

I glare at Jack. “Dinner is almost on the table, and you took the kids to get popsicles?”

“Mommy, it’s not a popsicle,” laughs Trisha. “It’s cotton candy!”

Her brother pokes her.

I close my eyes to shield my frustration. “Go get cleaned up. NOW.”

The children know better than to argue. Instead, they scamper out of the room. I grab a potholder and toss the now overcooked spaghetti noodles into the sink. “Great, just great!”

“Aw, don’t be so grumpy,” Jack says cheerily. “They’ll have their appetites back in no time.”

“They won’t be hungry for at least an hour, if they don’t have a stomachache first. You knew I was making dinner when I sent you to pick up Jeff.”

“And you know that pink isn’t my best color.”

Ah, so that’s what this is all about…

Touché, Mr. Craig.

He pulls my red thong from his pocket. “Considering you only wear them—as you put it—‘on special occasions’, I was surprised that this was the culprit.”

“So sorry. I guess if you did your own laundry, it wouldn’t have happened.” I grab for them, but he’s too quick for me.

“A memento. Finders keepers, right?”

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls. And, by the way, where’s Mary?”

“I gave her permission to sleep over at Babs’s.”

“You did what?”

“You heard me. What’s the harm in it, anyway? So they stay up all night making crank calls to Trevor and his posse—”

“No, you idiot! They won’t have to call Trevor, because Trevor and his posse will be over there, playing Spin-the-Bottle, or—or—much worse! Babs’s parents are out of town. They think she’s staying over with Wendy.” I grab the car keys from the hook. “I’d already told Mary no to any sleepover, and you knew it.”

He takes the keys from me. “I’ll go get her.”

I snatch them back. “Why? What will you do next, let her drive home, or something stupid like that? Quit playing the cool parent. It doesn’t suit you.”

He grabs my arm and twists it behind my back, but I won’t let go of them. Instead I grab the pot holding the spaghetti sauce and smack him on the side of the head with it.

“Damn it, Donna—” He twists my wrist until I drop the pot—

On his foot. What doesn’t scald him has him hopping and cursing as it spills onto the front of his slacks and all over the floor.

Lassie’s tongue can’t move fast enough to lap it up.

“Mom! Dad! What’s happening?”

Both Jack and I look up to see Jeff and Trisha standing in the doorway. He’s scowling, and her lower lip is trembling.

As he takes Trisha’s hand and nudges her back upstairs, Jeff hisses, “For your kids’ sake, go see a marriage counselor! Promise me, please!”

The sidelong glance Jack gives me is filled with shame, but his face can’t be any redder than my own.

“Okay,” we mutter in unison.

As the kids walk back upstairs, Jack murmurs, “You don’t have the guts to go.”

“Me? Ha! You’ll back out first—”

His look is a dare.

Then he wrenches the keys out of my hand and heads for the back door.

If either Jack or I thought that Ryan would veto the idea, we are sadly mistaken. 

“I think it’s a great idea,” he says too enthusiastically. “Look, in order for this to work, the two of you have to trust each other. In fact, I insist that you go.”

Neither Jack’s frown—nor mine, for that matter—can change his mind.

The appointment with the marriage therapist is for the next day, while the kids are in school. 

Ramona Locke, PhD LMFT was chosen by throwing a dart at the phone book because Jack would only go to a man, and I would only consider a woman. 

Too bad there isn’t a third sex.

Darn it, because I walked here whereas he decided to drive, he has beaten me to her office. The door is open, and I can hear them laughing.

Why that son-of-a-bitch! He’s trying to charm her! He’s going to wrap her around his little finger, and make me out to be the bad guy—

Well, two can play that game.

It’s why I come bearing gifts: in this case, a hot cherry pie.

To Jack’s chagrin, Dr. Locke honors me with a welcoming smile. “Mmmm, that smells delicious! Set it down, please.” She motions toward the coffee service that is set out on a sideboard. “Would either of you like a bite, with a cup of something hot?”

Jack shakes his head. “It’s one of the many ways in which she spoils me, Ramona.”

So they’re already on first name basis! The nerve of this guy—

Her smile disappears. “Carl, don’t you mean Dr. Ramona?” 

Yes! Yes!

She turns to me. I smile up at her sweetly. “Thank you, doctor, but if you don’t mind, I’ll just have some coffee. Black, please.”

As she gets up to pour me a cup, I stick out my tongue at Jack.

Unfortunately for him, his scowl is caught by the good doctor as she glances back at us in the mirror over the sideboard.

She waits until I’ve sipped my coffee to address us both. “Carl was just telling me that he’s feeling somewhat distant from you lately.”

I put my cup down in its saucer a bit too quickly. The rattle sounds like an earthquake to my ears. I curl my lips into a smile. “Yes, well, I’ve been feeling the same way about Carl. He doesn’t really open up—”

“But honey, every time I try, you shoot me down with some accusation.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Just the other day, you accused me of flirting with a neighbor.”

“Flirting?” Dr. Ramona’s brow furrows. She is intrigued by his supposed observation.

On the other hand, I am incensed by his lie. The last thing I am is jealous! I’m… I’m…

What am I, exactly?

Dangerous. My eyes narrow as I imagine how I might use my teaspoon as a lethal weapon. I guess if I stab him between his third and fourth rib—

“You know, Carl, whether Donna’s jealousy merits consideration.”

Could Dr. Ramona’s raised brow indicate that his flirting with her hasn’t fooled her in the least? If so, then nana-nana-booboo, Jack Craig, because you can’t fool all the women all the time.

“It may indicate an unconscious concern she has over the amount of attention you’re paying to her, and to your marriage.” Dr. Ramona continues. Her eyes sweep from him to me. “If you don’t mind me asking: how often do you have sex?”

Jack’s mouth falls open, whereas I’m biting my lip so hard that I think I’m drawing blood. 

Both of us are afraid to answer.

“I see.” Her brow furrows. “Well, there you have it.”

Jack’s eyes narrow. “There you have what?” 

“Everything.” She faces me. “Your feelings are grounded in fears that you aren’t attractive to him.” She turns to Jack. “And if you show interest in a neighbor, it’s because you’re desperate that some woman—any woman—will find you attractive.”

“I am attractive,” Jack snarls.

“But of course you are!”  Dr. Ramona’s patronizing tone has Jack half out of his chair. As I lay my hand on his arm to calm him, she adds, “Isn’t that why she married you?”

Why I married him.

Lady, if only you knew. I didn’t marry him; I’m stuck with him until we save the world.

Then we can go our separate ways. It’s what we both want…

Isn’t it?

Jack’s poker face is proof that he’s finally gotten control of his emotions.

Or that he’s vain enough to think she’s right.

Or maybe he realizes that I’d never have chosen him, if I’d had a chance.

But I have it, now, if that’s what I want. 

Well, is it?

“Don’t you both see? Well, I do: there is a wonderful animal attraction between you. Whatever the reason, you’ve quit acting on it—maybe job stress or the kids, whatever—but you can’t just let it die. It’s why you’re together in the first place, am I right?”

Dr. Ramona is right about one thing. If I’m to be honest with myself, I am attracted to Jack.

Which begs the question: is he also attracted to me? Or am I just conveniently close by?

I’m still mulling this over when she stands up and moves toward the door. “Unfortunately our time is up. But there is something I need you to do before I see you next.”

Jack winces. Like, me, he’s afraid to ask.

Okay, I’ll give. “What’s that, Dr. Ramona?”

“Sex. Not just once this week, either. I mean daily... From the look on your faces, I see that you haven’t considered this before. Truth is, if you don’t use it, you lose it. Try something new and different! Role play. Get kinky. For goodness sake, get a copy of the Kama Sutra and use it as a manual!  Sex is a habit, just like brushing your teeth—and as we all know, a heck of a lot more fun!”

We walk out into the bright sunlight as if in a trance.

Noting that my car is not in the lot, he asks, "Care for a lift?"

"Yes, thank you," I murmur. Our truce has officially begun.

The ride home is silent. Only when we get within a block of the entrance to Hilldale does Jack mutter, “Okay, what do you want to do about it?”

I point to the Kwikee Mart. “Stop here.”

He pulls over. I’m back in a flash, carrying a bag.

Jack gives me a sidelong glance. “Hell, we haven’t even gone to bed, and already you need a cigarette?”

“We aren’t going to bed either. But I bought you something for those lonely nights between now and our next session with Dr. Ramona.” I open the bag and pull out a Playboy for him and a Cosmopolitan for me. “Great for tips. At least we’ll be able to fake it.”

“I don’t need a magazine. I’ve got a lifetime of experience—”

“Not with me you don’t.”

He shrugs. “Well, you better hope she doesn’t have a subscription to either of these.”

I have thrown down the gauntlet. Well, Playboy, anyway: tits up, as it were.

And yes, his eyes are glued to the cover. 

Chapter 13

Children Shouldn’t Play with Explosives

The sound and excitement of fireworks can be a clarion call to adventurous children! But fireworks are explosives, and under any circumstance, explosives are not child’s play!

That said, keep your stash under lock-and-key. This also goes for your AK-47s, Glocks, anti-aircraft missiles and launchers, grenades, tanks, and cannonballs…

The art gallery attempt on my life is proof positive that I’m being watched by the Quorum.

Which begs the question: do they believe Jack is Carl?

Ryan doesn’t want to take any chances that they don’t. All of us have orders to stay away from Acme.

That said, Abu passes me a very special Woohoo! Cookies Drumstick. Inside is an encrypted missive informing me that our tech support guy, Arnie, will be passing me what Acme hopes is the failsafe for the bomb that the Quorum is building: an anti-detonating device.

I read it to Jack and Emma too. “I don’t get it. How can we diffuse a bomb if we don’t know what it’s made of?”

Emma shrugs. “My guess is that Acme is betting that it will be triggered by remote control. If we block the transmission, the bomb never goes off, and their mission has failed.”

I’m still confused. “But we’d have to be close enough to the person giving the signal to do that, won’t we?”

Jack nods gravely.

Now I understand why he suggested I take the kids and hightail it out of town.