Her reaction cuts into my heart. “It wasn’t you. I love the way you touch me, everything you do turns me on.”
“Obviously not.” She sits on the edge of the bed as her eyes well with tears.
“You’re overreacting. I can take it when you yell and scream at me for stupid shit, but not when you break down and cry. This is a bit melodramatic. I just lost it for a second. It happens.” I know she wants an answer; it’s the only way she’ll calm down.
“No it doesn’t. It’s never happened to me before... to us. It makes me feel unattractive.”
I close my eyes and sigh. My wife’s so needy, but if I were in her shoes... if I was fingering her and she seemed disconnected, then got up and disappeared into another room, I’d be like what the fuck?
“Soph, can you answer a question and then I’ll tell you?” She nods as I hand her a tissue. I wonder what’s going on with her lately. She had her period a few weeks ago so I don’t think she’s pregnant, but her emotions are more unstable than usual, if that’s possible. Makes me think about her father... most delusional and psychotic man to ever exist, sometimes I wonder if she’s a nutcase like him. Man, how can you think such shit about your wife? She’s not like him. Stay on track and ask the question. “What happened between you and Ivy while I was gone? Why do you think she called you a bitch? Did you say something to her, or did the two of you have a fight I’m unaware of that preceded that event? I mean; I’m not trying to make it sound like it was your fault, but you fucking gave me the cold shoulder last night before Haverty walked in, and I want to know why. We were talking about your jealousy. Tell me. Tell me or I’ll cancel breakfast and tie you to this bed until you do, and I won’t go easy on you,” I grin, hoping to... yep, there it is.
Her smile lights up the room and I relax. “Come on, you fucker, follow me to the kitchen,” she says, slipping into her robe as I trail behind from our third floor bedroom, past the door to our small pool, which is the only room on the second level, and to the first floor of our loft. I’d love to be in that pool instead of having to delve into this shit with her.
“Sit,” she demands and starts to make the coffee. “Sugar and spice?”
“What? You know I only like cream.”
She takes two black mugs from the open metal shelf above the counter, sets one in front of me and says, “Ivy was passing around a newspaper article about my father with the headline Sugar and Spice, Paul’s Porn Stars Are Never Nice. And to think, my father used to talk about his business like it was high-class. The more I learn about him...”
I place a hand on my forehead and rub in aggravation, tuning her out for a moment. She jumps when my fist hits the counter and the barstool strikes the concrete floor. “I need to get dressed,” I call down to her, already halfway up the stairs.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
I stop on the second floor landing and turn to my wife. “What did you say to her?”
“I asked her where she got it from, of course.”
“And,” I roll my hand in the air. “Spit it out, Soph.”
“She said she found it at her mother’s house when she was looking for some cash in a bedroom. She’s a thief-whore, a pissant, and a bitch, and that’s exactly what I called her, and then she said I was a bitch, so I fired her.”
“Alright.” I hold up my hand. “Who was she showing it to?”
“Everyone.”
“Fuck.” I continue to our bedroom and dress as quickly as possible, throwing on the first t-shirt I find, a pair of jeans, and my Cardinals hat, no time to shower. “Where the fuck’s my wallet?”
“Down here!” she yells.
“Keys?”
“Yeah, phone too. What are you going to do?” I hear the iron steps creak and know she’s on her way up.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this yesterday.”
“I can’t believe you won’t fucking tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“That was the fucking deal!” she screams. “You just said you’d tell me why you went soft if I answered your question about Ivy!”
“This is far more important than my dick. Why did you keep this from me?”
“Look at you. You’re frantic. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“And so are you, but not for the right reasons!” I push past her on the stairwell.
“I fired her and that should’ve been it. I don’t want to know about the article, I just want it to go away! I’m fucking tired of it!” she shouts.
“Sophia, damn it. Don’t be a dumbass.” I grab all the shit I need and start to call Haverty.
“Cove,” she clutches my arm. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. This can’t start again. Your trip to Vegas was supposed to be the end of it. The discussions, the nightmares, detectives calling, it has to be over. I’ll go insane if it’s not.”
I exhale and take her in my arms, phone still in hand. “Listen,” I whisper. “I don’t want to fight. I’m going to find out what’s going on and why her mother had the article. Then I’ll be back.”
“I’m pissed that Ivy knows about my father, and with her big mouth so does everyone else at the Scarlett.”
“Soph, it’s not like the entire country doesn’t know about the murder of your father. Ivy doesn’t have to open her mouth for anyone to find out. They’re aware.”
“They don’t know everything.”
“Shh, I’ll be back soon.” I kiss her in a most apologetic way. “We’ll talk later about my little problem in bed this morning. Okay?”
She nods as I head for the door. “Cove, what about your parents?”
“Don’t tell them anything. Make up some story that I went to the Scarlett for an incoming shipment.”
“Your parents are co-owners, dill weed. They know there’s no shipment arriving today.”
“Tell them it was a special order or something.”
She rolls her eyes while I slip on my shoes. “Be careful, Cove.”
“Love you, Soph.” I shut the door and call Haverty while waiting for the elevator at the end of the hall.
“You okay?” he asks, picking up on the first ring.
“Hav, I need you to meet me outside the Tribune newspaper building.”
“Oh shit, what happened?”
“You didn’t tell me Ivy had an article about Paul. Fuckin’ A. I need to talk to her mother.”
“I didn’t know. Fuck. Is that what set your wife off yesterday? What’s it about?”
“Who are you talking to so early?” I hear a soft voice in the background; it must be his girlfriend, Alyssa. “Is that Cove?”
“Be there in fifteen.” I end the call while riding the elevator down to the building’s underground parking garage. Shit, I hope my Viper starts. It’s five years old and I never drive it. What a fucking waste of money. I should sell the obnoxious thing. Haverty has me convinced I look like a pussy in it anyway. I think the entire family appears more punk ass riding all together in one of the Escalades than Sophia and I do in the Viper. What a horrible phase that was, to think I could be a car guy, maybe start collecting a few, enter them in car shows; but I’m just not that type. I have better things to admire than cars.
I let the engine run for a few minutes and search my phone for the address. Market Street. Close to here.
It takes five minutes to drive to the building and find a place to park. I’m not going to sit and wait for Haverty so I send him a text to meet me inside. Kaitlyn Moore’s office, tenth floor.
My hand shakes as I put my phone away. I’m pissed at her, and I don’t even know why. I only met the woman twice. She came into the Scarlett one afternoon and had information for advertisement packages for the newspaper. Why the fuck was she there and not someone from the marketing and advertising team of The Tribune? And do papers even solicit businesses like that? Show up at their door? What a dumbfuck I am for not thinking about it at the time. Damn, it should have raised an immediate red flag. I ended up calling her and she asked me to come over to her office, where she told me the story of her daughter. I felt sorry for her, and her kid, and it seemed like a good deal; I got something for free and a new employee on top of that. Maybe I should turn around and talk to Ivy first, ask her what she knows, but it wasn’t hers; her mother had the article and I want to know why. I’m suspicious; I don’t understand how I slipped up, oh yeah. Jesus. That’s why. The woman that stands before me is charming, a sweet talker and has an even sweeter...