Authors: Candy Halliday
She cried.
She sobbed.
With her hands over her face, she wept her heart out.
Twenty-six years worth of pent-up rage spewed forth, allowing bitter tears to wash away the anger she’d kept buried deep inside.
Only then, did Zada finally forgive her father for being the incredible jerk that he was. And she finally forgave her mother
for still loving him in spite of it.
Through her anguish, Jen and Tish had comforted her. Murmuring words of encouragement. Holding her hand and patting her back.
Staying with her until there were no tears left to cry. When she finally pulled herself together, Zada didn’t know what to
say.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she admitted. “I never expected to have a nervous breakdown on you.”
Tish handed her another tissue. “If it makes you feel any better, I have a nervous breakdown at least once a month. I’d say
you were well overdue.”
“And whether you believe it or not,” Jen said, patting her hand, “a good cry always makes you feel better.”
“I already feel better,” Zada said. “So much better, the first thing I’m going to do is call my mother and Sally and apologize
for being the incredible ass I’ve been my entire life. I’m beginning to realize men can make a liar of you no matter how strong
you think you are.”
Jen said, “You mean like letting Rick move back in?”
Zada nodded. “Does that sound mature enough for you?”
Jen smiled. “Extremely mature. And now I want you to tell me the second extremely mature thing you’re going to do is sit down
with Rick tonight and put an end to the madness.”
“Don’t push it, Jen,” Zada said, getting up from the table. “I think one mature thing a day is a good place to start. Besides,
I’m still too angry at Rick to be mature about anything where he’s concerned.”
Zada walked into Tish’s half bath off the kitchen. She took one look in the mirror, and almost passed out.
Crap! What a dirty trick.
Her eyes were so red and swollen, she looked like she’d been in a fist fight.
“I know why crying makes you feel better now,” Zada yelled out to Jen and Tish. “Crying makes you feel better so you can handle
looking like pure hell afterwards.”
She heard them both laugh.
“And speaking of pure hell,” Jen said when Zada walked back into the kitchen. “Please tell me you aren’t going to live in
the hellish mess you and Rick have made in your house.”
Zada said, “Does that mean I can borrow your Queen of Clean title for the afternoon?”
“Absolutely,” Jen said.
Zada grinned. “How much damage do you think a caustic cleanser could do to an expensive set of wood drivers?”
Tish gasped. “Oh, Zada. You wouldn’t dare! Joe would kill to have a set of drivers like Rick’s.”
Zada said, “I bought Rick those clubs. I can do whatever I want with them.”
Jen shook her head. “You really are mad at Rick, aren’t you?”
Zada looked at Jen. “How mad would you be if Charlie invited your mother and sister into a kitchen that looked like mine does
right now?”
“Use a Brillo pad,” Jen said. “A Brillo pad will do more damage to the wood.”
A
licia wasn’t sure what happened after Rick’s walk.
Only that it wasn’t good.
She’d glanced out the window in time to see Rick and Zada in a face-off in their driveway. She’d watched Zada stomp across
the street to Tish’s house, Jen right beside her. Watched Rick back down the driveway and zoom off.
Guilt tugged at her conscience for a second. But only for a second. She had nothing to feel guilty about. All she’d done was
tell Rick the truth. Zada’s assumptions were her own.
Assumptions.
How Alicia hated assumptions.
People had made unfair assumptions about her all her life. Assumed she was rich, spoiled, and conceited. Never giving her
a chance to prove otherwise. Never taking time to get to know her as a person.
She’d spent her whole life wishing she hadn’t been born into money. Wishing she was dumb as a stump. Wishing she was average-looking
enough not to stand out from the crowd. But no more. From now on, she was going to take advantage of every asset she had.
And she was going to start with Zada.
Zada saw her as a threat, so she was going to be a threat. Until Zada gave her what she wanted.
Alicia’s head jerked toward her bedroom phone.
She smiled as walked across the room.
Maybe Zada’s ready to give me what I want sooner than I expected.
Alicia frowned when she saw the caller ID: her twin, Alfie. Calling, she was sure, with his latest crisis du jour.
“Still in Woodberry Park exile?” were the first words out of Alfie’s mouth when she answered the phone.
“For now,” Alicia said, “but I’m working on it.”
Alfie said, “I still don’t know why you don’t sell the house and move back to the city with me.”
Alicia said, “You know exactly why I’m not selling the house.”
“What’s the big deal about giving Edward half of the proceeds?” Alfie argued. “It’s not like we’ve ever been desperate for
money. Dear old real estate mogul Dad saw to that before we were ever born.”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” Alicia said.
Alfie said, “And speaking of dear old Dad, he’s still on me every minute about talking you into coming back to the bosom of
the family business.”
“Why? So I can meet another devious neurosurgeon who wants to destroy my life?” Alicia quipped. “No thank you.”
“You didn’t know Edward was devious when you sold him the commercial property for his office building, sis,” Alfie said. “You
also didn’t know he was devious when you married him. Edward had us all fooled. Not just you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alicia said. “The answer is still no!”
Alfie sighed. “Then at least come to a party in my building tonight. I just got dumped again, so I don’t have a date. I want
you to go with me.”
“Whose party?” Alicia wanted to know.
“Eddie Salvo,” Alfie said.
“Public Dick Eddie?” Alicia laughed. “Again, no thank you.”
“The term is ‘Private Dick,’” Alfie corrected. “And Eddie has the reputation of being the most successful private detective
in Chicago. Plus, he has a major crush on you.”
“Eddie has a major crush on anything wearing skirts,” Alicia said. “Which is why
public
dick suits him much better. I repeat. No thank you.”
“At least you wouldn’t have to worry about Eddie’s sexual preference,” Alfie said right back.
“I’m hanging up now,” Alicia told him.
“Seven o’clock,” Alfie said. “Sixth floor. Eddie’s apartment number is six B.”
“I said I’m hanging up now.”
And Alicia did just that.
It was nine
PM
when Rick pulled into the driveway. He slammed on the brakes when he saw Zada’s Lexus, out of the garage, and parked back
in its usual place on the turnaround.
Rick sat there for a second, contemplating exactly what this meant. A bomb, maybe? Ready to explode if he tried to reclaim
his junk-free side of the garage?
He eased the Hummer up the drive and stopped again.
It took a second before he found the courage to use the garage door opener. When he did, and the garage light came on, what
Rick saw blew his bomb theory all to hell.
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
Not only was his side of the garage free of debris, Zada’s side of the garage was basically spotless. All of her boxes of
God only knew what were neatly stacked in one corner. Her yard sale junk for that yard sale she insisted she was going to
have some day, had disappeared. She’d even gotten rid of that old refrigerator from her college dorm days that she insisted
still held sentimental value.
Rick didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or terrified.
Common sense told him to lean toward the latter.
His fear only mounted when he entered the house through the garage and walked into a pristine kitchen. Sweat broke out on
his brow when he hurried down the hallway and found a neat and tidy living room. He held his breath as he tiptoed up the stairs
and down the hall, switching on the lights in his immaculate bedroom and his squeaky clean bath.
Terror arrived when he glanced at his golf bag.
The grips were sticking up out of the golf bag, instead of the heads. Panic propelled Rick forward. Rage took over when he
pulled the first driver out of the bag.
Zada was sitting up in bed, pretending to be reading when the loud banging started on her bedroom door.
“Go away,” she yelled. “It’s Simon’s turn to sleep with me.”
“Dammit, Zada,” Rick yelled back. “This isn’t about Simon and you know it.”
Simon sat up on the bed, wagging his tail.
“Stay,” Zada whispered. “I may need you for protection.”
When Rick barged through the door, Zada realized how true those words were. A new vein she didn’t even know he had popped
out on Rick’s forehead. Zada didn’t like the way he was holding on to his ruined golf club, either.
Rick held the club up.
Zada glanced at it nonchalantly, then back at him.
“I can’t believe you did this!” he yelled.
“And I can’t believe you invited my mother and sister in to see the mess from hell you made in the kitchen!” Zada yelled back.
Rick lowered the club and looked at her.
“I owe you an apology for that,” he said. “It was a rotten thing to do.”
“I accept,” Zada said, and calmly went back to reading.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
“You accept?” Rick exploded. He held up the club again. “Aren’t you going to apologize for this?”
“No,” Zada told him. “You deserved it.”
He stood there for a moment.
Zada stared him down.
Rick whirled around and stomped out of the room.
The bedroom door slammed so hard, the pictures on the wall rattled.
Zada let out a slow sigh of relief.
Until Rick stormed right back into the bedroom.
“So, what now, Zada?” he thundered. “The house has been messed up. And now the house has been cleaned up. The only thing left
is to
blow
the damn place up. Is that the only way we’re ever going to come to an agreement on the property settlement?”
Zada closed her book and placed it on the end table.
“You could always leave,” she mentioned.
“Over. My. Dead. Body,” he said through clenched teeth.
Zada said, “Believe me. I’ve thought of that option.”
Rick took a menacing step toward the bed.
Zada scooted farther back against the headboard. She worried that she might have pushed him too far, until she saw a familiar
gleam in his eye.
Right back where we started.
All about sex!
Zada said, “You don’t intimidate me.”
He grinned. “Then why is that little pulse point at the base of your throat going ninety miles a minute?”
Zada’s hand flew to her throat to cover it.
Rick took another step forward.
“I want you out of my bedroom,” Zada said. “Now.”
“Liar,” he said.
He had the nerve to sit down on the edge of the bed. He was testing her, and she knew it. Zada refused to move an inch.
“Would it intimidate you if I did this?” Rick asked, moving the covers back to reveal her lacy red teddy.
“No,” Zada said, but her voice quivered slightly.
Their eyes met.
Rick smiled and said, “Did I ever think to tell you how much I appreciate your taste in sexy lingerie?”
Zada said, “You always had me out of my sexy lingerie so fast, I didn’t think you noticed.”
His eyes turned a deeper blue.
His grin turned more aggressive.
“What if I did this,” he said, slowly moving the cold end of the golf club across her bare foot, up the inside of her left
thigh, stopping only when he couldn’t go any farther. “Would that intimidate you?”
Their eyes met again.
Zada knew exactly what he was doing: playing out her fantasy. And substituting the golf club for a sword. Too bad for him.
Rick had no clue she knew what he was doing.
Zada smiled and said, “I don’t remember you ever needing a golf club to help you drive it home, Rick.”
Oops!
There was that new vein on his forehead again.
Rick got up from the bed and headed for the door.
His now worthless golf club was clutched in his hand.
“Can I assume I survived another challenge?” Zada called out after him.
Bam!
went her bedroom door.
Crash!
went the pictures on each side of her dresser.
To Zada’s relief, after their Sunday night golf club episode, the week had been uneventful. Partly due to the new training
class Rick was tied up with at the center—he left home early and came home late. And partly due to the fact that they were
both purposely avoiding each other.
Which suited Zada just fine.
Except avoiding each other meant no challenges.
And no challenges meant no sole survivor.
Jen and Tish had speculated the reason Rick hadn’t delivered any challenges all week was because he was trying to regroup
after she’d made it clear his sex intimidating scheme wasn’t going to work. But Zada had the unsettling feeling that maybe
Rick was right: They’d already exhausted all of their challenge options.
Was
blowing up the house the only way they’d ever solve the problem to each other’s satisfaction?
Zada was contemplating that dilemma late Friday afternoon when the sound of the garage door opening signaled Rick was home
early for the first time all week.
Dammit!
She was not in the mood to retreat to her bedroom in order to avoid him all night. And she was positive she was beginning
to wear out her welcome where Tish and Jen were concerned.
But, wait a minute!
Maybe that had been Rick’s plan all along. He knew she’d get tired of having him around, so he’d hold out long enough to make
her leave.
Well, it isn’t going to happen, mister!