How to Kill Your Husband (12 page)

His words made Claire feel warm and important, but also a little uneasy. She looked at his hands, and grew even more uncomfortable when she saw there was no ring on his finger.

He watched her, and his eyes narrowed. “Did I offend you?”

Claire took a nervous breath and blinked quickly. “I, uh,…”

“Is it because I said you're
beautiful
, or because I said you deserve love, honor and respect?”

Claire was unable to meet his eyes. “Um, both…All of it…”

He smiled. It was a big, hearty smile. “Mrs. Hudgens, I am a professional. Those are just my observations.”

You think I'm beautiful?

“Wha.” Claire wiped at her forehead again. “Is it hot in here?”

He laughed. “All right, Mrs. Hudgens. Let's talk business. Here's what I think you should do. First, find out for sure if he's cheating on you. We need something black and white we can show a judge. We need to catch him with his other woman. If we could get pictures, that would be great. That card you have may turn out to be valuable. If we can prove his mistress wrote it, that would be excellent. Have you looked around your home for any other evidence?”

Claire shook her head.

“Okay. Well you probably should do that. What I would suggest is that you hire a detective to spy on your husband. I can get one for you—”

“No,” Claire said with a smile. “I already have access to a small detective agency.”

Trevor smiled back at her. “Well, that would work, too. When you get your evidence and you're sure you want to divorce George—”

“I want to
destroy
George.”

“I would love to help you destroy George,” Trevor said.

“Good,” Claire said. “I think you'd do just fine…”

* * *

As tumultuous as her day already was, there's always the propensity for more drama. When she got home, George called and said he wouldn't be working late that night. He didn't have any extramarital event planned either, so the Hudgens enjoyed one of those rare family dinners with every member present. And even though she was still very much disgusted with her husband, Claire found herself crossing her fingers and ignoring the evidence again as they ate.

The kids truly loved this man. Watching their interactions with George made Claire feel like rusted daggers were being plunged into her chest. She felt like
she
had all the secrets now. The visit with the lawyer rested on her shoulders like a huge boulder, and Claire felt like she was the one trying to rip the fabric of their family. Anything that happened was ultimately her fault, because all she had to do was shut up, keep her nose down, and go along with the program.

Yeah, George might come home late, but that was just putting more money in their bank accounts. Yeah, he bought her the wrong necklace, but it was still a very nice and expensive gift. Who would complain about that? And yeah, he might be banging another broad a couple times a week, but at least he had the decency to
bathe
before he came home to his wife. He didn't flaunt his affair, and if Claire was really so upset about it, all she had to do was stop sniffing on him when he came in. If she kept her nosey ass to herself, things could be as they used to be.

In the good old days.

Claire might have gone along with that line of thinking, but a good friend pulled her from that stagnant pool of acceptance once again. Becky called while she and Nikki were cleaning up after dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Claire! Whatchoo doing?”

“Washing dishes.”

“How'd it go with the lawyer?”

“Fine.”

“What'd he say?”

“I'm washing dishes
with Nikki
,” Claire said.

“Oh.”

“Who is that?” Nikki asked.

“It's Becky.”

“What is she talking about?” Nikki wanted to know.

Claire frowned at her. “
Noneya
.”

“Well, just tell me if he wants to take your case,” Becky said.

“He does, but I don't know,” Claire said.

“What do you mean you don't know?”

“I just, I don't know.”

“Is George home?”

“Yeah.”

“Just because he's home today doesn't mean he's going to change, Claire.”

“I know.”

“You deserve better,” Becky said. “I know George is handsome, and he's got this
great career
, but that doesn't mean you have to take whatever he gives.”

“I know. You're right. Hey, I'll talk to you about it tomorrow.”

“Okay. Wait—you didn't tell me what you think of
Trevor
.”

“What do you mean?”

“He's cute, right?”

Claire chuckled. “He's way more than that and you know it.”

“You know he's single, right?”

“I noticed,” Claire said. “What about it?”

“He told me he was looking for Miss Right when he was working on my case,” she said. “Maybe he still is…”

“That's totally not my concern.”

“
Aww, come on
…”

“I gotta go,” Claire said, “upstairs, with my husband
George
.” She hung up thinking Becky was crazy for those insinuations. Mr. Trevor Smiley was successful and good-looking, but surely he wasn't desperate enough to hit on his heartbroken clients, was he? He told Claire she was beautiful, but she took that more as a self-esteem booster. He knew she was about to cry, and he wanted to comfort her. That was all.

* * *

But Claire was still thinking about her would-be lawyer when she got into bed that evening. She thought about his words of encouragement and the good advice he gave, but she also found herself thinking about his dark eyes and his chiseled physique. Unfortunately George was in bed with her, and he was interested in
someone else's
physique; tonight it just so happened to be Claire's.

Fresh from his stint of push ups, George sat next to his wife and pulled the sheets from her body. Claire had on a pair of panties and a white tank top. This was typical sleepwear for her, but she felt uncomfortable and exposed on this night. She reached up and snatched the covers from his hand, and then she rolled away from him.

Undaunted, George got under the sheets and positioned himself close to her body. He wore only a pair of boxer briefs, and the feel of his chest on her back made Claire excited even though she didn't want to be.

When she felt his erection on her backside, she scooted away from it. George followed. Claire scooted again, but soon she ran out of bed. George still had plenty penis.

“I have a headache,” she said without looking back.

“I can help, baby.” He put his hands on the back of her neck and started to rub sensually. “Tell me where you're tense,” he whispered.

“It's not going to work,” Claire said. “I don't feel like it tonight.”

“Sure you do,” George said. He continued to rub the back of her neck with one hand, and he reached around with the other to fondle her breasts. Again Claire tried to resist, but he had one of her nipples erect within seconds.

“Stop,” she warned. She sent an elbow to his rib cage, but among so many other things, George was a third-degree black belt. He evaded the blow easily, and the hand on her chest slid down between her legs with the quickness of a striking cobra. Before Claire could even gasp, he had his fingers in her panties, figuring things out for himself.

“Naw, I think you
are
ready,” he said.

Claire couldn't argue with that because she was as moist as a damp sponge. “Come on, baby,” he urged.

He stroked her mound tenderly and worked a finger between the lips. Claire inhaled sharply and found herself at the devil's crossroads. Her body was going to respond regardless because they hadn't been intimate since the night of their anniversary. Her brain knew it was wrong to succumb to his advances, but that organ wasn't offering much of an exit plan. As a matter of fact, her brain worked to facilitate the evil.

Remember what the lawyer said: You don't have any evidence of adultery. What reason will you give for denying his advances?

Claire knew she was listening to the little devil on her shoulder rather than the angel, but her life was so disorganized right now it didn't matter what decision she made.

She stopped fighting with him, and George removed her panties tenderly. He crawled on top of her, and Claire reluctantly spread her legs for him. When he entered, Claire closed her eyes and tried to force the mental turmoil from her head. George filled her fully and pleasantly, but she still couldn't clear her mind—not totally.

Claire thought about the fresh smell of
clean
he brought in with him after late nights at work. She thought about the faint scent of perfume she encountered just a few days ago. She wondered if he knew how much she loved him and how much joy and pleasure he brought to her life. Claire wondered if he made his other woman as happy. Did he touch her like he touched his wife? Was he gentle with her? Did he kiss her neck like he did with his
first
love? Did she want to close her eyes and scream when they became one?

Claire opened her eyes and stared into her husband's hazel orbs. She stared at him with pain and longing. George returned her gaze, but he didn't notice that his wife's eyes were blurred with tears.

When she climaxed it was both bitter and sweet.

But mostly sweet.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MELANIE'S WAY

Claire rose from her seat the next morning and scanned the office curiously. Her eyes widened when she saw the blue uniform. She left her desk and crossed the room quickly. Their postal carrier didn't have time to run or pull any of the evasive maneuvers he'd been using as of late. Claire walked up behind him and put a hand on his cart. He turned and jumped a little when he saw her standing there.

“Uh, um, hey. Hey. How are you doing, today, ma'am?” Cordell was seriously spooked. Claire took a mild satisfaction from that.

“I'm fine,” she said. She stood with one hand on his buggy and the other on her hip. Today she wore a white blouse with a navy blue
skirt
; it was long, revealing only her ankles when she sat down, but it was still a skirt—the first one she'd ever worn there.

She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her features weren't forlorn or haggard this time. Claire looked bright and well-rested. Her lips were full and pink. Her eyes were big and brown.

“Um, how, what can I do for you?” Cordell asked.

“I've noticed you don't bring my letters to my desk anymore,” Claire said.

The mailman had on short sleeves and short pants today. He was a hairy fellow; his arms and legs were covered with a dense fur. He was still attractive, though.

“I, I talked to Mis-Mr. Roubidou,” he stammered. “He said I can leave it up front from now on.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Claire noticed Becky and a few other co-workers watching her. “You
can
leave it up here,” she said. “But I want to let you know that there are no hard feelings between us. You can bring my mail to my desk if you want to. I'd actually prefer it that way.”

His eyes narrowed a little like he expected a trap. “I, I thought you had a problem with me.”

“I was having a bad day,” Claire replied airily. “I didn't mean to yell at you like I did, but you kind of caught me off-guard. It wasn't a good time for what you were saying.”

He smiled, his confidence returning by degrees. “Really?”

“I didn't think you were going to stop bringing my mail,” Claire said with a grin. “I don't bite.”

“Oh?” He leaned on the other end of his basket and gave her a cheesy smile. “Well, um, I can start bringing your mail to your desk again if you want me to.”

“Thanks,” Claire said. “I would appreciate that.” She turned to leave, but her apology left an expected opening.

“Hey,” the mailman said. “You said I approached you with the wrong words on the
wrong day
. Does that mean I should ask you out on a
different
day?”

Claire chuckled. “I guess so, Cordell.”

“So—”

“But not today,” she said. She turned again and headed for her desk. Halfway there she stopped to see if he was still watching her. He was. She gave him a flirty grin, and he waved.

Becky came and stood behind her computer a few seconds later.

“What's going on?”

Claire looked up and smiled cheerily. “Hey. What's up?”

“Are you okay?” Becky asked. “You feeling all right today?”

Claire shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so. Why?”

“I see you made up with our mail guy.”

Claire chuckled. “Are you sitting over there watching my every move?”

“After what happened between you guys last time, I think a lot of people are watching.”

“People love drama,” Claire said. “I just told him I wasn't mad at him and he can start giving me my mail personally again. I feel weird with him leaving my stuff up there, like I'm a leper or something. Everybody thinks he and I have issues.”

“That's great,” Becky said. “Glad you got that squared away. But what about all that other stuff?”

“What other stuff?” Claire asked innocently.

“Why'd you turn back and smile at him when you were on your way back to your desk?”

“Oh, my God. Are you watching me like
that
?”

“You were all out in the open. I just happened to look up.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “You know, I realized something yesterday, Becky.”

“What?”

“Let's talk at lunch.”

“
Uh-uhn
!” Becky grabbed her arm and dragged her to the break room. “I think we need some coffee
now
.”

* * *

It was a full hour before their first break, so the lounge was pleasantly empty. Becky directed Claire to a seat at the lone table. She ran around the other side and sat across from her. She leaned forward in her chair with both elbows on the table and a dopey grin on her face. Claire frowned at her.

“You need a life.”

“I've got a life,” Becky said. “Yours just happens to be more interesting at this exact moment.”

Claire shook her head. “All right. I came to a decision yesterday.”

“When you talked to Trevor?”

“
No
,” Claire said. She looked away uncomfortably. “When George and I were,
together
…”

Her friend's eyes widened. “
You didn't
.”

“He was in the mood. What was I supposed to do?”

“Make him sleep on the couch.”

“For what reason?” Claire asked. “I'm not ready to confront him.”

“You could have told him you had a headache.”

“I did,” Claire said. “He rubbed my neck. It was nice.” She closed her eyes, lost in the memory.

Becky looked pretty pissed. “You could've—”

“We made love, Becky. But that's not what I want to talk about. Can I finish the story?”

Becky lowered her eyes, pouting a little. “I was just going to say you could have told him it was your
womanly
time.”

“Thanks, buddy. We'll send that memo back in time when it might have been useful.”

“I'm just trying to be helpful.”

“
All right
,” Claire said, laughing.

Becky smiled, too. “
Fine
. Tell me what happened.”

“Okay,” Clair said. “George and I were
having relations
last night, and I couldn't get his girlfriend out of my head. I kept thinking about, you know, him and her, together.”

Becky frowned.

“I know,” Claire said. “How do you think I felt? Not only was I picturing it, but something
even worse
struck me.”

“What?”

“I was really tripping. I told myself,
it's bad enough you're sharing him. Don't you think you need some protection?
”

Becky's eyes grew wide. “
No
.”

“
Yes
,” Claire said. “The only protection I've ever used with George was the pill, but I was thinking we needed some
condoms
.”

“George doesn't have any diseases,” Becky said.

“I know he doesn't,” Claire said. “But the thought was in my head. You know, it
is
possible. I have no idea what kind of nasty whore he's with.”

Becky shook her head.

“Hear me out,” Claire said. “That's not even what my revelation was.”

“Well, what was it?”

Claire sighed. “I don't know why that was the catalyst, but it was, Becky. You were right; I am trying to ignore it. I
was
, but I'm not anymore. I don't know much right now, but I know I can't sleep with George anymore—not until we get to the bottom of this.”

Becky nodded. “It's about time.”

“When I was weak, you were there for me,” Claire said. “I love you for that. I always will.”

“
Aww
,” Becky said. She took off her glasses and wiped at her eyes. “You're going to make me cry.”

Claire reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “So here's what we're going to do,” she said. “First off, we're going up beef up our efforts. George has poker night tomorrow. Are you still down?”

“Hell, yes!”

“If he doesn't come home, then we'll go to his job and wait for him to leave the plant. And if he doesn't do anything, then I'm trying again the next day.”

“Good for you,” Becky said.

“And I'm searching our office
today
,” Claire declared. “If I find anything else with that Kim bitch's name on it, that's his ass.”

“This is great,” Becky said, her eyes twinkling. “I'm actually getting jittery over here.”

“I'm going to get him so good,” Claire promised.

“Claire, I'm so proud of you. It feels like the old
you
is back. Is that why you were flirting with our mailman?”

“I was not flirting with him.”

“I saw you look back and smile.”

“Becky, I would
never
go out with our mailman.”

“Why not?”

“Because he's
hairy
, for one. Plus he tried to hit on me, knowing I was married.”

“So what was all of that about?”

Claire smiled. “When we were in high school, I used to have George wrapped around my little finger.”

“You wanted to see if you've still got it?”

“That was just a little experiment,” Claire said with a sly smile.

“Were you practicing for
Trevor
?”

Claire giggled. “I knew you were going to ask that, and
no, I was not
. What is it with you and that lawyer?”

“Claire, he's good looking,
and single
. You're good looking and about to be single. You guys would look good together.”

“He told me I was beautiful.”

Becky's mouth dropped. “I knew it!”

“He just said that because I was depressed,” Claire guessed. “He said I was beautiful and I deserved to be loved, honored, and respected.”

“Oh, man.”

“There's no
oh man
, Becky.”

“He never said
I
was beautiful.”

“Well…”

“He didn't say I deserved to be loved, honored, or respected, either.”

“I'm sure he meant to.”

“I'm sure he likes 'em tall and dark…”

“I'm, not going there with you, Becky. I'll probably hire him to work my case, but that'll be it.”

“But what if—”

“
That'll be it
,” Claire said. She stood to leave, and Becky did, too. “Now come on before you get us in trouble. You know we're not on break. I'm going to get fired messing around with you.”

Becky rolled her eyes. “They are not going to fire you, Claire. Mr. Roubidou thinks you're the best.”

“Do you really think that lawyer
thinks I'm beautiful?” Claire asked.

“I knew it!”

* * *

When she got home, Claire got the kids started on their homework, but she kept coming up with excuses not to search the office. First she decided it was better to get dinner started first. After that, it seemed like a good time to take a shower. When she got out, it was time the set the table for supper. She didn't search the office while the kids ate because they were known to discard their asparagus if there wasn't an adult at the table with a keen eye on them.

George called during the meal to say he wouldn't be in until after ten. Claire took that as a stroke of fortune; she still had four hours to do her dirty work. But when they were done eating,
someone
had to clear the table and wash the dishes. That someone could have been Stacy or Nikki, but Claire was in the mood for housework for some reason.

When she finished in the kitchen, Claire felt obliged to check on the children's homework and get George Jr.'s bath started.

She called Melanie at eight o'clock when she was all out of things to do but still didn't want to go into that damned office.

“Hello?”

“Hey, what are you up to?”

“Nothing. Watching Tila Tequila. Girl, this bitch is
nasty
. What you doing? Why do you sound so down?”