Bad Habits Part 21

"I was wondering if you needed anything. I was in the middle of getting dressed." Sure, she was being rude. She was short on patience and long on intolerance at this point. There was only one reason why her mother in-law would be calling.

"Can't I call to check in on my son and his wife?"

"Of course, but-"

"I spoke to Keith this morning. He mentioned there might be trouble with you adjusting. We discussed maybe you reconnecting with a therapist."

Simone grimaced. She knew it! The minute she heard his mother's snotty voice on the line, she knew Keith had turned on her. Now he's trying to use his mother once again to 'get-her-in-line'. Her anger flashed and clashed with her restraint to keep from blowing up. The pressure to maintain control was as if a hand had closed chokingly tight on her throat-the hand she wished to choke Keith with. "That's not true."

"No worries, sweetheart. I've called a friend of mine. Her name is Patricia English. She'll be contacting you to schedule an appointment. A little perspective will work miracles for you both. After all, it has before."

"That wasn't necessary," Simone struggled to say, reeling from the impaled feeling of Keith's betrayal.

"You can thank me later. I'm still waiting on an invite. I'd love to see Castle Rock. I hear that New England this time of year is so green, so pleasant. Keith tells me that the Hollingsworths are interesting people. Are they?"

"I suppose," Simone answered.

"Bet they have no idea who they are dealing with, with my son. He can hold his own with the best of them. It's how he was raised. I'm sure you're managing the best you can."

"I have to go," said Simone.

"Simone?"

"Yes."

"Remember, I'm here, sweetheart, if you need to talk, especially with your new social scene. I can give you some pointers. When do you plan to entertain for Keith? That's expected you know."

"Thanks, really, but I'm sorry Mama Livingston I... well... I got something burning on the stove. I'll have Keith call you. We'll get you and the judge here soon, okay? Take care." She switched the phone off. She nearly flung it at the wall she was so p.i.s.sed. Instead, she counted backwards from ten to let the knot of anger uncoil from around her heart. A hot exultant tear slipped away and trickled down her cheek. Keith had gone too far. Calling his mother? She was so sick of him controlling everything through everyone else, instead of dealing with her. She wiped at her cheek. Well she was done with that too. She was done towing the line alone. She couldn't wait to tell him that to his d.a.m.n face!

Throwing the phone down, she marched into her closet and began s.n.a.t.c.hing dresses, s.h.i.+rts, pants, everything off their hangers. The haul was tossed to her bed. There she paced, trying to decide on what to wear. She'd go out and meet Cain for lunch, laugh with him and have a good time. Then she'd do some shopping. That's what she'd do! Spend his money, not her allowance! And maybe she'd go to a movie-binge on junk food and forget trying to keep a perfect figure. Or she could go to a salon and cut all this d.a.m.n hair off her head and rock some natural locks. She would do whatever the h.e.l.l she wanted.

The doorbell downstairs sounded off. "What the h.e.l.l? What now?"

In her husband's robe, with a face tight with anger, she hurried to the stairs, having only half descended by the sound of the second press of her doorbell. From the stair she could see a shadow of movement pa.s.s by the opaque windowpane at the side of the door. It looked to be a woman.

"Who is it?"

"Maryanne!"

"Maryanne?"

Why the h.e.l.l was Maryanne on her doorstep this morning? Was there a conspiracy to make her day as s.h.i.+tty as possible? She nearly turned on the step and went back up. She considered returning to her room to change into something appropriate, but there was no time.

What does she want? d.a.m.n, why now?

The doorbell sounded off again. Her hands were a nervous flutter as she tried to groom her hair and wipe off the residue of moisturizer from her cheeks. No use. Keith's robe hung awkwardly on her, opening at the front to reveal her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. It was hopeless. Somehow she felt like Mrs. Gatlin did this on purpose.

"Simone, open up!"

She did. Undoing the locks, she drew the door open slowly. Maryanne's smile was as bright as the sun glaring behind her. Simone squinted into her light. Her neighbor wore a light peach summer dress with a thin white sweater resting on her shoulders.

"Good morning, Mrs. Livingston," said Maryanne, with a chipper tone.

"Morning."

"May I?"

"Oh, yes, please." She stepped back, holding tight to the collar of her robe. Maryanne stepped through, a soft floral scent trailing as she breezed by. She gave Simone a once over with a raised brow then turned to venture into her sitting room. Simone tossed the door shut with a grimace.

"I caught you early I see. I thought you'd be awake. It's already ten."

"Ten?" Simone drew back her sleeve to check her watch. She was supposed to meet Cain at 11:18. She wasn't near ready. Now this? What did Maryanne want? The answer became even more unclear by the way her uninvited guest scanned the rows of family photos.

"They're adorable! Is this your sister?" she asked to the picture of Kim and the twins.

"Yes, oldest sister."

"I always wanted a sister, older or younger. It didn't matter. Mother said she'd never go through childbirth twice. I think Daddy wanted a son." She set the picture frame down, tossed her hair and looked back at Simone. "So, how are things?"

"Things?" Simone frowned.

"Moving in? The place looks lovely. Similar to our home but smaller, lovely." She walked around touching her African collectibles. "How quaint," she said, rubbing her fingers as if the pads were dusty.

"Was there something you wanted, Maryanne?"

Maryanne switched over to the large sofa and sat. Simone tried to hide her irritation. She sat across from her.

"I have news."

Simone waited.

"The party! It's Friday. It'll be a c.o.c.ktail party, after-fivish, you know. We'll have it on the lawn. It's supposed to be such a beautiful night."

"It really wasn't necessary for you to go through all this trouble."

"Nonsense! Of course it was. I can't wait. In fact, the decorators and party planners are coming this evening. They'll want to stop by and interview you."

"Me, why?"

"It's in your honor, honey. We want the menu and arrangement to be to your liking too."

Simone narrowed her eyes. There was an insult somewhere in there. She was sure of it. Maryanne continued to hold her stare with her tone too sugary and her smile too bright. "I love throwing parties. You'll love this one, guaranteed." Maryanne crossed her legs, tugging at the hem of her dress to fix it neatly around her b.u.t.ter cream thighs.

Simone, conscious of her appearance, again wiped her hand back over her hair. "We'll be there. Thanks. If that's all then-"

"I came to ask you a question. I have a great idea. How about we get our husbands in the mood, you and I?"

"I don't follow."

"Lunch. We can go to the office and surprise them today. Wouldn't that be fun? I can have Maxine fix us something to take, after you change and fix yourself of course."

Simone smirked. "That's a lovely idea. The problem is, I have plans, Maryanne. In fact, I'm late for an appointment. So if you don't mind, I'd like to change and fix myself, of course."

"Oh, really? I apologize. I didn't mean to impose." She rose to leave.

"No problem." Simone stood up, ready to toss her out on her prissy a.s.s. She rushed her to the door, but Maryanne gave an abrupt stop, then turn.

"Oh, before I forget, there is one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Bunco, tomorrow night. It's a must, honey!"

Simone didn't want to do anything with these people. "Bunk-ho?"

"No, Bunco. It's really fun. Something the ladies do. I'm hosting tomorrow. Just Sangria and finger foods. You'll love it. I do red and white Sangria, my special recipe. It'll also give the girls a chance to meet you before the party. We start at seven, okay?"

"Well I don't know."

"This time I won't take no for an answer." Maryanne batted her long lashes then turned and sashayed out. Simone slammed the door shut.

"s.h.i.+t! s.h.i.+t!" She was running late.

s.h.i.+t I'm going to be late!

Cain tapped his pen repeatedly on his notepad. The constant little ticks drew the ire of Keith Livingston. Bored, he relinquished the pen, letting it roll off and away, then returned his attention to the dull presentation from Michael Wein.

So in summation, we are focused more on the P&L with this production release. We understand the risks taken in the last fiscal year. What you have before you is the trending that can better explain our losses. As you've seen today, sir, our customers have grown used to the pampering our technology services have afforded them. So it's a tight rope we walk between retention and profit. However, our commitment is solid. Each of our 'top ten' will have to share cost in our more innovative services. R&D is putting together plans for global reporting's against regional sales divisions and new web-services that will give our clients access to real time data on...

"That's enough," Keith Livingston said. "I understand scope and mission. What I want, gentlemen, is a solid plan and not a wish list." He tossed the folder. Cain flinched when the papers that took his team days to organize fanned out on the conference table, dismissed. Keith was grinding the wrong group under his boot heel. Didn't he know that?

His eyes slipped over accusingly to his boss who met his glare dead on. Since this was Cain's division and these were his people, it figured Keith would go for his b.a.l.l.s in front of everyone to exert his power. Problem was their chain was being yoked as a distraction, and he was getting tired of chasing his tail.

"The gains and losses for your top three accounts are unacceptable. I'd like another presentation in forty-eight hours focused on retention of profits, plus growth for the key-accounts and those that we're carrying. I'm talking a road map, gentlemen, that we all will drive by. Meeting is over."

Was he out of his f.u.c.king mind? There was no such thing in the world of Andrew Hollingsworth. The key-accounts he referenced had CEOs that were Andrew's drinking and golfing buddies. This was the game. s.h.i.+t, it couldn't be that different in New York. The company got their profits, the partners got their cut and Andrew Hollingsworth got more. He co-founded the company. That's how it was done. If Cain cared just a sliver, he'd tell his father in-law, but f.u.c.k it. He'd rather meet with Keith's wife for lunch.

"Cain, a word," Keith ordered, while scribbling on his notepad.

He sat back down as his employees all filed out. He waited for Keith to look up. It was a long wait. Finally he did with piercing eyes.

"I looked over the financials. Everything seems to be in order."

"Accounting has more numbers if you want to see them."

"Like I said, it seems to be in order. But that was the plan, right? Have it packed in a nice neat bow for your new boss?"

"I don't follow?"

Keith removed his spectacles. He pressed down on the bridge of his nose. "Cain, do you know what the future will be for the company, for the leaders of this company?"

As if he cared. Cain checked the time. He was definitely going to be late. "Um, yes, I suppose technology is the future."

"Let me help you. The future isn't just the profits, or market growth. The future is young. It's innovative and it's new. The future isn't Andrew Hollingsworth." He slid the pen and notepad toward him. "It seems my access is not what I need. How about you give me the key?"

"You're asking for my user logon?"

"Is that a problem?" Keith replied.

He looked down at the pen and paper, then back up. "Can I ask why?"

"You could, but I think you're wise enough to know why. I need an inside man. I know you and your father in-law don't see eye to eye. I've also seen the team you lead. Everyone here is talented and dedicated."

"It would have been nice if you shared that with them. They worked hard," Cain said.

"And because I didn't, they'll work even harder," Keith said. "You know, I'm here by design not accident. I'll only ask once."

Keith Livingston was playing his hand mighty early. It was a risk to put it on the line. Keith didn't strike Cain as that big of a risk taker. This presented an opportunity for Cain as well to get from under his father in-law's control once and for all.

If he alerted Andrew and reported the conversation, they'd either throw Mr. Slick out on his a.s.s, or corporate would launch an investigation into the entire division. His hands were too dirty with Hollingsworth double-dealings for that. What should he do? This was the golden egg that Andrew needed to get the enemy out of his camp.

Keith rocked back in his conference room chair, making a tent out of his fingers. He watched Cain, and waited. If Cain was a betting man, he'd say that Keith Livingston knew his decision before he ever asked. Picking up the pen, he scribbled his access on the pad, and then stood. "I'm not sure what you hope to find, but if you're going to declare war on Andrew Hollingsworth, I'd be careful."

"Just routine, Cain. Nothing to worry about," Keith smiled.

"Right," he stated to the deadpan look in Keith eyes. Turning, he walked out.

At last, she found a parking spot. Did anyone work in Castle Rock, she wondered. Simone couldn't believe the crowd of cars and shoppers packed tight in the parking lot. She eased the gear into park and turned off the ignition before removing her sungla.s.ses. Leaning forward she did a final check of herself in the mirror.

When she left the house, she happened to look over at her neighbors' house. Standing at the second story window was Maryanne. She sipped from a tiny tea mug, watching her. It was a bit unsettling.

Though her extra time spent on her hair made her late, she picked out at the waterfall curls making sure they framed her face nicely. Settling on a white halter dress with navy blue trim, she pulled at the bunched front that housed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tastefully.

Of course she hadn't gone through all the trouble of getting dressed so pristinely for Cain. That would be ridiculous. Still she bubbled with excitement over their outdoor shopping adventure. Now all she needed to do was find her gardening helper and apologize for being late.

Simone was out of her car, sashaying through the parking lot. Several shoppers pushed carts with kids riding high in the front and un-bagged grocery or electronics stacked in the baskets. Others were at the back of their cars unloading their shopping baskets into their raised trunks.

But no Cain.

She stuck her sungla.s.ses in her hair and let her eyes do another sweep. When she checked the time, she noticed it was 11:30. She was over ten minutes late. Maybe he was too. It was silly for her to think he'd hold her to the 11:18 rule.

"You're late." A dangerously soft voice spoke behind her. She turned directly into him.

He towered over her, forcing her head to go back. Though his hands were shoved carelessly into his trouser pockets, parting his navy blazer, there was a coiled intensity in his stance and in his stare. Was he happy to see her or irritated that she made him wait? She couldn't tell. His dark eyebrows were lowered over his cool blue eyes that fixed her with an intelligent stare.