Bad Habits Part 10

He didn't respond. She looked over and found him standing on the other side of the bed watching her intensely. "I take it you want to join?"

"It'll fill your days, Simone. Give you something to do," he reasoned.

Simone chuckled. "Funny, in New York I had something to do. It was called a career. But sure, why not if it makes you happy." She rose with her mug. "I'll fix breakfast."

He cut her off, going around the bed and blocking the door. "Don't do this. It's not what I want," he said. "I don't need you to be a Stepford wife. I can't stand it when you shut down on me, Simone. This is our marriage, our life, and I need you in it, not doing what you think I want."

Her eyes lifted to his. "I talked to Kim. I miss the boys, Keith. I miss them so bad. I think we should go home for the Fourth of July. You can see your mother."

"No." He turned and walked away.

"No?"

"We've been invited to Martha's Vineyard by Andrew Hollingsworth. We're going."

"You've been invited, not me. I can go home to my sister-"

"No. Simone, it's critical that you're there, as my wife. Critical to my success."

She couldn't even verbalize how much it hurt. It hurt to leave the twins when she saw how tired and sad her sister was. It hurt to leave her sister when she'd always been there for her. Always. She cried the entire drive into New England. Called her every day. And he wanted to spend the holiday with some strangers?

"Funny, Keith. I thought you didn't want a Stepford wife. Who the h.e.l.l else would stand by and let her husband say 'no' with no discussion?" she asked. He looked back at her, and she shook her head walking out. Despite the effort, angry tears clouded her vision before she made it to the stairs.

"Cain? Cain..."

He opened his eyes, lying on his side. She moved up behind him and slipped her arm around his waist. "Are you awake?"

He didn't bother to answer. It wouldn't shut her up either way. So he lay there as her warmth enveloped him. She pressed her face into his back, nose rubbing up his spine. She released a soft purr that indicated he could roll her and do what he please. But he didn't. So she groaned and her breath heated his back.

"Today, Mother said we have to come to the club, sweetheart, for tennis and lunch with that new boss of yours. I've met his wife already. We need to be gracious."

"Not in the mood."

"Cain, please. Also I can tell them about the party."

"What party?" He turned to get her off him. She moved out of the way and blinked up at him innocently. Her golden hair falling from her face revealed equally piercing blue eyes, like his own. "We're throwing a party to welcome them to the neighborhood. Mother will help with the planning. She said that Daddy would tell you. Didn't he?"

"Maryanne, I don't want the f.u.c.king party in my house. Have it at the club!"

"Whoa! Why are you yelling? Not everyone in this neighborhood or your office is a member of the club. You know that. This is to be low-key. To make them feel more relaxed. Why are you being so sour about it?"

Cain responded, "Do what the f.u.c.k you want. You will anyway."

She climbed over on top of him. Straddling his lap, she braced her hands down on his chest immediately to keep him pinned down-knowing him too well. "I want to make up. Let's stop fighting. Lately we can barely get two words out before we're insulting and hurting each other. Cain, I love you. I do, but you mope around here sometimes and I wonder... never mind what I wonder."

He s.h.i.+fted. Her sitting on his c.o.c.k made it stiff despite the way she frustrated and irked him. Everything about her physically stirred l.u.s.t not love for her. But even f.u.c.king her any way he wanted became less and less satisfying, and he was tiring of the contradiction. He grabbed her hips and moved her off him. "You abandoned any chance of us getting on the right track by cancelling our vacation again for daddy. You know I haven't seen Joseph in years. I wanted for you and I to get the h.e.l.l out of this fishbowl we swim in."

"I had no choice," Maryanne said.

"Bulls.h.i.+t! It's me that has no choice. You want a pet? Buy a f.u.c.king dog! You want a husband? Then give me a reason to try or I'll-"

"Leave? Don't threaten me because we both know you won't. What about your mother? Forgot about her?"

Cain stopped. His eyes sharply cut over to her. "What did you say?"

She shook her head hard. "I didn't mean it, Cain. I'm sorry. See what happens? You push and I push back. I'm sorry...I. Oh, G.o.d, I didn't mean to bring her up."

"f.u.c.k you, Maryanne," he said and walked out.

"Cain!"

The Club Simone hadn't said much since breakfast, and even less on the drive over. The country club was as pretentious as it promised to be. She looked over at her husband. A collared s.h.i.+rt was required for the men on the course. She chose a white cotton polo and a pair of khaki pants for him. With his golf shoes and white cap pulled down, he looked as preppy, Ivy League and handsome as he did when she first met him. She dressed in a white summer dress and sandals, pinning her hair back at first, but Keith came in and insisted she wear it loose and curled all over.

"You'll love it. They have a salon and a spa here, plus I was thinking you could take up tennis."

"What? Why?"

"Bonnie Hollingsworth and her daughter, Maryanne, are over the Women's League. It'll be a good way for you get to know them."

"I met Maryanne. No thanks," she said.

He cut her a look, and she rolled her eyes. "Keith, I'm thinking maybe for a weekend I'll go visit Kim. If we can't do the Fourth, then maybe I could go down there and check in-"

"Simone." He swerved into a parking spot and looked over. "I know you're concerned about her. I told you I would foot the bill for a nanny. Paying that college kid Anne to look after her sons can't be easy."

"She doesn't need a nanny. She needs me."

"Call your mother. Make her go over."

Simone shook her head. "You know my mother. Kim would never leave the babies alone with her."

"Not our problem."

"Now wait a d.a.m.n minute. I don't have to get permission from you to see about my sister. In fact, I'm not asking you for permission."

He glared at her. She looked down to her lap and then away, shaking her head at his arrogance. "I don't understand you anymore, Keith. G.o.d knows I'm trying. Why are we arguing over this?"

"Three days, Simone. We've been here three days. Already, you want to run home. You just saw them last week. d.a.m.n it, if you weren't going to commit to this all the way then what the h.e.l.l are we doing? It's about 'us' first, remember? Not your sister or your drunken, crack head mother. Not those little boys, us. I barely had you at home. You were over there with Kim daily. Three f.u.c.king days and you want to leave me?"

"And what about you, Keith? What have you given up for us? What have you ever given up for me?"

"A mistress," he snapped.

He threw open his car door and got out. The blow hit its target. She sat there stunned, but she forced her rebellion down. She ached to get out and tell him to go to h.e.l.l, run home, grab a bag and leave. She should give up, like her father did. Just give up. But the therapist said it would be hard for them both, and this was supposed to be their second chance. d.a.m.n it all to h.e.l.l! She didn't even know if she wanted a second chance anymore. Keith walked around to her car door and opened it.

"Are you in this with me or not?" he asked.

She looked to his hand then up at him. Sighing, she extended hers to his and let him guide her out of the car. He kissed her cheek. "I love you, only you. I need you to be a wife to me. Put me first for a change. If you want to send for them, then do so. The house is big enough. h.e.l.l, invite them to Martha's Vineyard. Whatever you want, babe. Just don't leave me. Okay?"

"Don't ever throw Stacy in my face again. There's a limit even for me, Keith. Excuse me," she said, trying to step around him. But he grabbed her arm.

"Simone, I can't do this alone. Not with these people. I need you. I'm fighting hard here. You have to stay with me."

"I know. I'm here for you. I always have been. Even when you don't deserve it, I can't blame you for taking my love for granted now can I? Not when I don't love myself enough to demand the same."

He pleaded. "Baby, please. Not today."

She looked away. "Right. Not today."

Keith smiled. His hand slipped into hers. Together they walked up the brick steps to Bella Sh.o.r.e Country Club.

"I invited Gerald to join us." Andrew nodded at the clean-cut surrogate son of the Hollingsworth's. Andrew wanted his daughter to marry into the Wellington family since the day she was born. Gerald Wellington was Senator George Wellington's youngest son. According to Andrew, the Wellingtons and the Hollingsworths could trace their lineage all the way back to the Mayflower. Blueblood and prestige. Maryanne defied it all and her father only once. When she chose him to be her husband instead, she fought her father up to the day of the wedding. She even threatened to run away with Cain. Back then his wife was brave, a fiery spirit. He thought her conviction to love who she chose was because of what they'd found together, but there were times when he noticed a strange vibe off his wife whenever Gerald Wellington was near. He couldn't be sure as to why.

"Andrew, how are you today?" Gerald said. His eyes moved over the table. "Bonnie, Cain... Maryanne."

Maryanne ignored him, sipping her juice. Andrew chatted Gerald up the entire time, while the investment banker kept giving his wife looks. Cain watched them closely. Maryanne slipped her hand under the table to Cain's knee and kept it there, lifting her eyes only once to Gerald and glaring. He knew that glare. He knew Maryanne. There was something meaningful behind the hateful glares she often shot Gerald Wellington.

"Is that them?" he heard Bonnie Hollingsworth whisper. Cain glanced up to see Keith Livingston enter with his wife, Simone. She was even lovelier today than before. The lady was a natural beauty that Cain couldn't tear his eyes from under the easy flowing sundress she wore. Cain noticed everything, from the sway of her hips, to the shy guarded look on her face as they approached.

"Mother, look at her. Who wears a sundress to the club, really? Do we have to publish dress codes now?" Maryanne snorted.

"Dear, what do you expect? Probably her first time in a club like ours," Bonnie snipped.

"I want you two to behave," Andrew Hollingsworth admonished.

Cain cut Maryanne a look.

"What? I'll be on my best behavior," she said, sliding her hand up his leg. Cain ignored her touch. He imagined the difficult time the beautiful Mrs. Livingston would have with the two Hollingsworth she-devils. He even felt a pang of sympathy for her.

"Keith? Welcome!" Andrew rose. He made a big production of their arrival and several blue noses scattered about careened their necks to gawk. Cain rose too as his wife and mother in-law sweetly glared at Keith's wife. Andrew walked over, nearly pus.h.i.+ng Gerald aside. "I'm Andrew Hollingsworth. You must be Simone. Hope I didn't keep hubby out too late last night."

"Of course not. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hollingsworth," she said as he took her hand and planted a kiss to her knuckles.

"Call me Andrew," he smirked. She nodded, dropping her hand. She looked directly at Cain. He gave her a little nod and she smiled. "This is my family, my wife Bonnie."

"h.e.l.lo," Bonnie said dryly.

"Daughter, Maryanne."

"We've met. So happy you could join us today," Maryanne said.

"And Cain her husband."

Cain reached over Maryanne and offered his hand. Simone accepted it with a small shake. He smiled. "Our new neighbors. Of course, we met. Welcome."

"And this here is Gerald Wellington. He's the son of Senator George Wellington."

"Nice to meet you both," Gerald said, shaking Keith's hand. "So you've moved into Mulberry Heights?"

"Into the Dixon's old place?" Bonnie frowned.

"We sure did. We love the house," Keith inserted.

"Ah, yes it is one of the nicer ones. Welcome, I stay downhill, so that makes us neighbors as well," Gerald said.

Cain remained standing, eyes locked on Simone. She looked over at him shyly twice and quickly looked away.

"I want to get on the course early. Ladies, we'll leave you to get acquainted. Be sure to get the Livingstons registered for some of the leagues."

"Have fun, Daddy." Maryanne rose and blocked Cain's pa.s.s. She threw her arms around her husband's neck in front of everyone and gave him a kiss. Cain could see Gerald glaring at them while accepting the kiss. "Have fun, sweetie. My money's on you," she said, running her hand over his left shoulder.

"Right, your money," Cain said dryly, stepping around her.

"You are such a flirt," Bonnie chuckled. "Look at them, darling. Still as charming as ever," she said to Andrew, while sipping her morning champagne.

Maryanne took a seat. Her father kissed her cheek. When Cain stepped off with the men, he looked back once more. Simone shyly sat among them. He noticed Keith never even bid his wife goodbye. Why did he feel like he was the only person with x-ray vision to see the goblins that surrounded him at Castle Rock?

For a brief second, Simone couldn't move, couldn't speak. When Keith walked away and she was left to the Hollingsworths, a cold sense of loneliness moved through her-paralyzing her. An instant later she suppressed the urge to walk away. She didn't want to be here. She didn't need to be here. Yet, she was there. And therapist be d.a.m.ned. 'Here' was beginning to feel like prison. It was pathetic but true. She felt triumphant when Keith ended things with Stacy 'the wh.o.r.e' secretary, and chose her. What a joke.

"So, welcome," Bonnie Hollingsworth said. Simone sensed they'd both be demonstrating who the Hollingsworth women really were.

"Thank you."

"Are you all moved in?"

Simone's gaze lifted and locked with Bonnie Hollingsworth's. Mrs. Hollingsworth seemed pleasant enough, on the surface. But her eyes, just like her daughter's, showed such a low tolerance for acceptance. It amazed her, the veiled dislike of others. She wouldn't label it as just bigotry or racism. That was too contained, too undignified, too unbecoming for such a lady. No, Mrs. Hollingsworth was too cultured to be lumped into that cla.s.s. It boiled down to 'us' and 'them', new money versus old. Simone guessed her skin could be white as the driven snow but if she hadn't the lineage, pedigree, and wealth that were the bedrock of Bonnie Hollingsworth's elite circle, it mattered not.

"Simone?" Maryanne sat upright, "Are you okay?"

She realized she was frowning. Kim always lectured that she wore her emotions on her face like a traffic stop sign, flas.h.i.+ng signals for every mood. "Yes, well no actually, I uh..." she swallowed then exhaled slowly. "Forgive me. It's just been an active week."

"They haven't found a service yet, Mother. You should have seen the state she was in when I stopped by for a visit. Poor dear was unpacking everything herself." Maryanne batted her eyes with fake innocence. Simone detected the mockery in her tone. It p.i.s.sed her off.

"There was no 'state'. I don't need a service," Simone corrected with an equally pleasant, yet forced tone. "No service can make my home feel like home."

"Oh, how nice," Bonnie said, eyes flipping away.

Bella Sh.o.r.e's dining area was emptied of the small gatherings. The silent pause between the ladies charged the atmosphere. Wait staff cleared away the Hollingsworth breakfast. A champagne flute was then placed in front of Simone. She raised her eyes to object. The golden colored mimosa with a thin layer of fizzing foam awaited her, objection or not. The waiter moved on and so had her chance to not become one of the ladies. She was stuck.

Elevated by four steps above the other neatly arranged tables with fresh flowers and white crisp linen cloths, the Hollingsworth women could look down on everyone arriving or leaving. Their table was to the rear near an expansive picture window that gave a panoramic view of the golfing greens. Simone's eyes scanned the emerald hills and sunken white sandlots, returning to the winding path that led the golfers to the first hole. And there was her husband. He sat behind the wheel of the golf cart, his white-gloved hand on the steering wheel, his cap pulled down low. He seemed to be smiling. Partnered with Andrew Hollingsworth, the men waited as their clubs were loaded to the back. The caddy hit the roof and held on to the edge, standing, as Keith drove off. Behind them was Cain Gatlin, the only interesting man of the lot of them. She remembered the bitter argument she overheard, and also the soft smile in his eyes every time he looked at her. He intrigued her. Her gaze slipped back over to Maryanne. What type of man married a woman like the woman secretly glaring at her?

Cain drove off, seated next to the Senator's son. Suddenly, she had a deep yearning to scratch that itch of rebellion and call her sister. Then she'd pack a bag and leave for New York.

"Simone, I believe Father mentioned that you and Keith were from New York?" Maryanne returned her crystal-like eyes toward her.

"Yes, I grew up there, Brooklyn, but Keith and I lived in Manhattan," she quickly added. It was important that she keep Keith in a favorable light. What other purpose did she serve for the day? The women both gave her identical placid smiles.