Bad Habits Part 42

"That's me being honest!" she shouted back. "You want to force me to stay for what? For what? Go be the great Keith Livingston alone. Build your empire. Marry Stacy or some pathetic woman like me, but let us go!"

"Never," he said coolly. "Do you hear me? I chose you. That's how it is. Fix your f.u.c.king att.i.tude and get ready." He turned for the door.

"Ready for what?"

"Our party tonight." He stopped and smiled. "The Gatlins and all of Castle Rock are coming to celebrate the Livingstons joining Castle Rock. Wear the blue dress. I like the way your a.s.s moves in it," He winked like nothing had happened.

She crossed her arms, glaring. He stopped just outside of the door. "Funny, Cain Gatlin didn't go to work today. In fact, he just got home. That's strange."

Simone shrugged, as Keith's dark eyes narrowed in on her. He glared and then walked off. She dropped to the bed breathing hard, as if she just remembered how when he left. Rising, she went to the door and closed it, locked it, putting her back to it. He didn't suspect. If his ego suspected, he'd have lost it, of that she was sure. But she had to be careful, d.a.m.n careful.

Simone began to pace. She'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd go to the party and play dutiful wife. He could go to h.e.l.l. What she needed to do was get a lawyer, a barracuda to eat his b.a.l.l.s. Someone she could trust. But how? He had frozen her out of her accounts. She had nothing.

She put her hands to her eyes trying to think. Then she lowered them, smiling. Hurrying over to her closet she drew back both doors and fished through the hangers until she found her yellow sweater. The sweater she wore to Bunco. Checking the pockets she removed the torn piece of paper and unfolded it. Simone smiled.

She walked over to the bed and sat down, dialing. "h.e.l.lo can I speak to Joan Nelson please?"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Nelson isn't here at the moment, can I take a message?"

"Ah...yes, I'm calling to confirm that she will be attending the party at Maryanne and Cain Gatlin's tonight."

"Why yes, she will. She RSVP'd. Is there a message?"

"No. No, thank you."

Simone hung up. Her eyes cut over to the locked door. He wanted her to go to the party. She'd go alright, but first there were a few things she would see to.

Cain's eyes opened despite the cool run of water over his face. He kept his hands flat to the tiles and dropped his head back closing them again. Flashes of her mouth on him, traveling down his neck, going lower surfaced. His c.o.c.k seized and bulked. He dropped his face back into the cool waters, trying to shake it. He'd showered with Simone but this one was different-a cleansing to get his head straight. He needed a cold shower to wash away the urges, like the one that kept him clenching his hands into his fists when he thought of her next door, alone with Keith. "f.u.c.k it," he grunted. Turning off the water, he opened the shower door. He reached for his towel. When he looked over, he saw he wasn't alone. Maryanne leaned against the sink, watching him. "Where were you last night?"

"I went for a drive."

"All night?"

"Evidently."

She watched him closely. He could feel her eyes following his every action. She then turned and walked out. Not a question. He frowned, wrapping the towel around his waist. He followed her into their bedroom. "Aren't you going to ask why? What it was I was thinking of last night? Doing?"

"No," she said, fixing her hair in the mirror with her fingers. "The caterers arrive in another hour. Since you aren't going to work, maybe you can help me deal with the decorators, the tents."

"I want a divorce," Cain blurted.

Maryanne stopped. Her eyes shifted to his in the mirror. It was the first time he saw genuine emotion and what appeared to be shock.

"I had time to think about it. Really think about it, and you and I have to be honest. We're not happy," Cain said.

Maryanne turned and glared at him. Cain knew this was a stretch. The only way out of his marriage was through her. An amicable resolution could set him free and he might escape without the wrath of Andrew Hollingsworth. If not, then he'd have to be prepared to go the distance.

"I think it's time we admit that we don't belong together."

"Stop it!" she shouted. "We don't belong together? Are you crazy! Since when? Since last night? We belonged together just the other day when you were f.u.c.king me up against the shower. Remember that?"

Cain sighed. "I'm talking love, Maryanne."

"And you love me!" she shouted in a shrill voice that bordered hysteria.

"I'm not in love with you," Cain clarified.

"That's a lie."

"I haven't been in love with you..."

"...I'm not listening to this...."

"...in a long time..."

"...lies! Lies! Lies! Lies!"

Cain had to follow her out of the room and into the hall. He caught her before she reached the stairs. He captured her hand in his and pulled her back. Trying to reach her, to reason with her, he saw the fear in her eyes and even now, despite it all, he didn't want to hurt her. "Hey c'mon, Maryanne. Look at us."

"Stop it, Cain," she pleaded.

"Listen to me."

"Nooo," she moaned, visibly shaking.

"You aren't happy. I'm not happy. Let's at least be honest about this."

"NO!" She shook her head, tears springing up to her eyes. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't want to fight any more."

"We aren't fighting. I'm being honest," Cain said.

"No. No. I won't lose you. Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME? You made a promise to me, vows to me and you said you would love me."

"I can't," Cain said.

"NO, d.a.m.n IT! I plan to hold you to it. So will Daddy. You better think long and hard before pushing me, Cain." She s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand from his and wiped her fingers under her lids. "No more crazy talk, okay? No more." He stepped back, staring at her and seeing her but not believing what he saw. Andrew Hollingsworth's daughter wasn't about to lose her husband unless she decided so. "You can't have a divorce." She started down the stairs, stopped and looked back. "Be sure to pick up your cleaning for tonight. I forgot to."

Cain watched her go, a hand still to the towel tied around his waist. "f.u.c.k."

Simone had moved her things to the guest bedroom. She chose the other bathroom to change. Keith spent most of the day downstairs. She wasn't avoiding him because of his threats; she just didn't trust herself alone with him. She started three times to call her sister, but stopped. What would she say to Kim? Hey, sis, by the way my husband is a jerk and is making threats against us both. He wants me to be his doormat for you to keep it. Or, the lawyers, the ones you can't afford, yeah those lawyers, they will go away if I even dare to leave him?

No, she couldn't talk to Kim yet. Not yet. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had chosen to wear her black dress, very appropriate considering the state of her life. But the sight of herself in the mirror made her sick. She removed the dress and hung it back up on the door taking a seat on the lowered toilet lid in nothing but her panties.

"Simone? You need to be ready in twenty minutes. I don't want to be late," he said from the outside of the door. She sighed but didn't respond. Slowly, she stood again, returning to the sink. Her eyes were dark, absent of hope and her face tight with anger and regret. The minutes ticked on as she stood there facing herself, remembering how she kept calling herself lucky, blessed, and fortunate because she was a Livingston.

Her gaze dropped down to her sheers, gleaming against the black velvet of her barber's cloth. She ran her fingers over them, then she picked up the pair she'd used many times before. Grabbing her long locks she cut, then she cut some more. Hair dropped to the sink off her shoulders to the floor. She cut her hair and smiled.

"d.a.m.n it, Simone, would you hurry the h.e.l.l up-"

Keith stopped mid-screech when she appeared at the top of the stairs. She stood there for a significant pause so he could see her, really see her. Then she kept her eyes trained on him as she descended. She didn't wear the blue dress. No she chose a black fitted dress with a wide V front that pointed down to her navel. It separated her ample bosom at a less than appropriate distance. Her skin was radiant brown, and her shapely legs were long and polished with firm muscles in her matching stilettos. All was revealed by the high rise to her mini-hemline that inched higher with each step she took.

She would never be this brazen in her attire at one of Keith's work functions. Never. But she loved the liberation she felt by the way he paled.

And her hair bounced with layered flair. Cut in a s.h.a.ggy style that dropped just below her lobes, it was picked out in flip wispy curls. From her ears hung diamond teardrops that sparkled like the copper shimmering gloss coating her eyes and lips.

She smiled, holding her tiny beaded bag to the front of her. "I'm ready, honey."

Keith glared at her, rendered speechless. His cheeks puffed with air as he swallowed the rage she knew was mounting.

"Of course we could stay in?" She batted her eyes and turned for him. "How does my a.s.s look in this dress, baby?"

She turned back to face him. She waited.

He glared.

Simone smiled. "Go ahead. Say something. Scream something. Shout it to the roof, sweetie. Maybe the neighbors will hear us this time. You think? We could show them the real Livingstons."

He opened the door, barely able to contain his rage with his jaw locked tight. She walked past him, swinging her hips seductively, and saw him visibly tense. Simone paused at the cars lined on both sides of the street and the people walking up the sidewalk. She saw a familiar face from Bunco. The woman waved, on her husband's arm pointing at her and Keith.

"You want to go to the party dressed like a wh.o.r.e, then fine. Make a fool of yourself," he grunted, stepping off the sidewalk.

Simone smirked behind his back. "No, baby, it's you that will be made a fool of tonight."

Cain stood at his bedroom window. In his dark slacks and blazer, the front of his shirt open, he had cast away his tie. Freshly shaven, he watched the guests arriving while sipping his whiskey. The Hollingsworths were there, downstairs greeting everyone. He couldn't stomach them right now. Not now. Then he saw her. How could he miss her? His eyes stretched at the change. She was shockingly beautiful, confident, and s.e.xy. Her haircut, her dress, the way she moved in it. He couldn't imagine that Keith Livingston wanted his wife to be quite that eye pleasing.

The transformation was possibly only a small part of how she endured. He noticed everything. How she walked stiffly at her husband's side, avoiding his touch. The way she forced a smile to her sweet lips.

"Cain? Daddy is looking for you," Maryanne said, her head peeking in the door.

Cain sipped the whiskey from his gla.s.s, the one he confiscated with the bottle and brought upstairs as others invaded his home. He set the gla.s.s on the dresser and turned to look at his wife. "Of course, we don't want to keep Daddy waiting do we?"

She walked towards him. The gold summer dress she wore swirled around her creamy thighs. "Sweetie, let me fix your tie. Have you been up here drinking all day? Shame on you." She gave a nervous chuckle, reaching for him.

Cain knocked her hands away. "Let's get this over with," he mumbled, leaving her behind.

His mother had taught him the art of deception from the stroller before he could even walk. It was time he proved he was a Gatlin after all.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Love Lost Kim "Thank you for coming back," Kim paced. She wrung her hands, fingers, until they cramped. Tears clouded her vision, along with her hurried thoughts. The past few hours had reduced her to a raw pulsating nerve of emotion. Now with the urge to use again gaining on her will to resist, she teetered on the edge. Her hair was wild with lose strands from her braided bun, thanks to her constant scratching at her scalp and then smoothing it back. In a state of disillusionment her eyes darted from Anne to the door, then to Anne again.

She would have to calm down before she got in the car. Before she found a way to repair the damage she'd done. In an effort to do so, she stood perfectly still, willing herself to regain control and fighting off the demons whispering her greatest fears to her. He will never forgive you. It's over. He'll report you. You are going to lose everything.

She turned and sniffed hard. With a forced calm to her voice, she spoke to Anne. "Can you stay? For, I don't know. I need you to stay."

"I'll watch the boys. It's no problem." Anne stood. She stepped around the coffee table to stand in front of Kim, searching her eyes for more of an explanation. "What is it? Tell me how I can help?"

Kim dropped her head in defeat. Silent tears slipped from her closed lids. Anne threw her arms around her. The two women embraced, the contact was enough to offer a small measure of hope. She'd been a wreck since Mathew left. She tried calling his cell to no avail. She called his boat and got no answer. He completely shut her out. The way he looked at her, and what he said broke her heart. He was a good man. He was probably the last good man to enter her miserable life. And she'd totally been blind to it. Now she felt hopeless.

"Hey? You're scaring me." Anne drew back horrified by her tears. Kim never cried. Never.

Kim nodded that she understood her concern. She was scaring herself. "Just watch my babies. When I get back we'll talk. There are some things I've done, I will explain it."

"It's okay, take a breath."

"No. I'm out of time. I have to fix this first. I have to. Mathew's blaming himself, it's not right. It's my fault. I'll be back." She grabbed her purse. Anne followed her to the door.

"You're shaking. Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"I'm okay." She threw open the door and bolted. "I have my cell. Call me if the boys wake and need me," she shouted back over her shoulder. "Call me. I won't be far... the marina that's all... not far," she said getting behind the wheel. Suddenly, both of her hands were racked with tremors. Shaking and sweating, she ignored the worried look from Anne who watched from the open doorway. But she couldn't ignore her body's rebellion. She started dumping her purse on the pa.s.senger seat to get the little Ziploc bag with the last of her supply. She only had three pills. That was it. She just needed something to get her through the night, she reasoned. Just so she could explain things to Mathew. Then she'd be okay. She popped the pill, wishing she could crush and snort it and wishing for faster relief. She looked up and saw Anne watching her. She couldn't worry about that. Not now. First she'd fix things with Mathew, then she'd come back and fix Anne and then she'd put it all back together. She was good at putting it back together.

Grabbing the gearshift, she shifted and slammed her tennis shoe down on the gas pedal, nearly crashing through her garage. She braked, burst into tears and then a fit of maddening giggles. She had shifted into drive, not reverse. "d.a.m.n it! d.a.m.n it, Mathew," she wept, dropping her head to the steering wheel. She shook all over with her sobs.

There was a tap at her window. Kim's head popped up. Anne stood there, concerned. She could imagine what her babysitter must have thought.

"Kim, get out of the car!" Anne demanded. "Get out of the car and come inside. You shouldn't be driving. You need to calm down."

"No, no, I'm fine." She shifted the gear into reverse and this time sped backward. Anne jumped out of the way, looking on in horror as she wheeled into the road and then sped away. Kim wiped at her eyes, blinking rapidly to see the road. Her headlights were on, but the beams of other cars seemed brighter, more intense. She squinted, swerving. She struggled to stay on the road. She focused and breathed, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles went white. "Calm down. Calm down," she breathed. She looked down at her phone, realizing it was ringing. When she picked it up, she saw it was Anne calling. "s.h.i.t! s.h.i.t!" she panted.

The horn of another car shocked her.

Kim swerved back into her lane, just barely. Then flashing red and blue lights flooded her vehicle from behind. The sirens from the police cruiser's horn followed. "Nooooo," she moaned. The cop drove up close behind her b.u.mper. With no other choice, she pulled over to the left side of the road, nervously watching the car in the rearview. Her eyes then dropped down to her hands. Kim flexed her fingers several times to get a handle on the spasms. "Please, G.o.d, help me."

The officer tapped her window. Kim sniffed, reaching for her wallet on the seat next to her. It sat upon the heap she dumped from her purse earlier. He tapped harder and she rolled down the window. "Just a minute, officer."

"License and registration."

"Okay, okay." She got out both cards and handed them to him, praying the Oxy would kick in soon. She was sweating profusely. The cop leaned in and looked at her. "Is everything okay, miss?"

"Yes. I just found out that a friend is sick. I'm sorry. I'm upset. I'm sorry." She began to cry.

"Step out of the car, please."

"What?" Kim wiped at her tears. "Why?"

"Out of the car."