14. What’s Been Done to You
Roman
At seven the next morning, on the kind of clear, warm summer day that made some people want to lie in a hammock, I climbed into the passenger side of the ute. Summer, of course, had been standing by the car ready to go since 6:57. How did you get the upper hand with a woman who never gave you the chance?
She said, “You’re kidding.” And laughed while she climbed into the driver’s seat.
“What?” It came out as more of a bark. She’d been resolutely cheerful since breakfast—which she’d prepared, as she’d been up before me. Nobody got up before me. Except Summer, cheerful and distant and possibly amused. Nobody was amused by me, either.
“Well, that’s polite,” she said, totally unfazed.
“Sorry.” I looked out the window, checking on the storm damage. She’d barely glanced at me today. Women normally at least looked at me, and then there was that first night, on my bed, when she’d been as warm and soft as that bourbon.
I’d put on a white shirt and charcoal wool trousers this morning, and not because some woman had told me the white showed off my skin tone and the tailored shirt showed off my physique. Because I was going into the office, that was why. Good thing I wasn’t trying to show off, because Summer—the stranded woman staying in my house out of the goodness of my heart—was wearing a T-shirt and plain blue skirt, albeit one that only came halfway down her thighs, and her hair was pulled back into an elastic. She didn’t look plucked, she didn’t look waxed, she didn’t look perfect, and she didn’t look like she cared. About my appearance or hers.
“Now I’m almost scared to talk to you,” she said. “All that staring and frowning. But I’m going to talk to you anyway, because I’m obstinate like that, and I don’t seem to care that you’re not a morning person and don’t want to hear it. I’d have sworn you’d never let yourself be driven by a woman.”
“It’s not my ute,” I said, “and what d’you mean, I’m not a morning person?”
“I guess this is just your normal sterling personality, then. Also, I don’t believe you. I’ve barely started paying you for this thing, and I have my doubts about the whole transaction. And I hate to tell you this, but the teensy little fact that they don’t own the car in question doesn’t stop a lot of men from thinking they should be driving.”
“Your husband, for example,” I said, for some reason.
A pause, and she said, no smile in her voice now, “You looked me up. Probably inevitable. If you’ve read anything at all, though, you know he’s not my husband anymore. He’s my ex. I don’t have any way to defend myself against the rest of what’s out there, so you can believe what you want. If you want Delilah and me to leave today because you can’t trust me, we will. If you think I’m going to sneak into your bedroom when you do come home, though, and, what? Seduce you with my gold-digger sexual repertoire, then somehow take all your money? If that’s what I want, I’ve been doing a lousy job of going after it, unless wealthy Kiwi men look for their next bride amongst the cleaning staff in cheap motels. Or, of course, in campgrounds. With no shower. According to Delilah, the lack of a shower is what really puts us beyond the pale. I’m not nearly polished enough these days to land anybody as fabulous as you and I know it, so no worries.” Back to cheerful again, and never mind that it was exactly what I’d been thinking. It still annoyed me.
“Can’t be what you expected when you married an ultra-rich bloke, though,” I went on despite my better judgment. “That you’d end up like this.”
“No,” she said, “but I’m glad I did. That’s how weird I am. Freedom is what you do with what”s been done to you. Jean-Paul Sartre. See? I can quote, too. You could say I’m broke, or you could say I’m free. Or, of course, you could say both.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that. “Better than being on trial, I’m sure.”
“Better than all of it,” she said. “You don’t have to believe me, but why would I lie? That’s the whole point of my life now. That I’m not lying.”
“And you don’t like rich men.” How had she known what I was thinking? “Or flash houses, or vans that don’t go puckeroo in the midst of cyclones.”
“Or Miele appliances,” she said. “All right, I may be lying a teeny bit on the Miele appliances. No wonder you didn’t like me, though. You sensed my inner evil.”
I smiled. Couldn’t help it. “Is that what happened?”
“Seemed like it to me, when you were telling me to shut up in the hospital.”
“Because you were annoying.”
“Oh. Well, that’s perfectly understandable, then.”
I laughed. “Thought it was you who didn’t like me.”
“I didn’t not like you.” I shot her what was probably a sardonic look, and she said, “Well, possibly I didn’t like you. You can come across a little …”
“Arrogant?” I suggested. “Overbearing? Impatient?” I could focus on this, because she was actually driving reasonably well on the narrow, curving road. Not nearly as fast as I would’ve done it, but she was competent.
“Sounds about right,” she said, and I decided not to mention my possibly patronizing opinion of her driving. “Also, I really don’t have much money, but if you gave me a break on this truck, and I’m almost positive you did, let me know so I can address that. I don’t need protecting, and whatever you think, I pay my debts.”
“Bankrupt, though,” I said, and she flinched. I told myself this was important if she was going to be in my house. I was probably lying, but I told myself anyway.
“Not because I wanted to get out of paying for things I’d bought,” she said. “That I’d wanted.”
“Sounds like a rationalization. Because of what, then?”
Did I rattle her? I did not. “Oh, now I totally want to tell you. Has it ever occurred to you that you’re not the boss of everybody, and you can’t just steamroll over them? There’s a more tactful way to get this information, you do realize.”
I considered. “Nah. Not seeing it. How’m I meant to ask, then? Also, sorry, but I am the boss of most things. Can’t help it. It’s how I’m wired.”
“I wouldn’t go around bragging about it,” she shot straight back. “You could say, ‘I saw you’d gone bankrupt. I’m sorry. That must have been hard.’ And drawn me out with your sympathy.”
“I could,” I said. “If I were somebody else.”
She sighed. “Boy, it’s a good thing I’m not fragile. Here you go, then. The mortgages on the houses were in my name, too, and we had joint accounts. I thought that was Felipe being kind. Maybe it even was. But?—”
“But it meant you couldn’t pay the debt. That you’d never be able to pay it.”
“And, see, how easy was that to figure out? But it turned out that it didn’t matter, because I was liable for my husband’s debts anyway. That’s the law. It was all I could do to pay the attorneys. The mortgage for the Manchester house was over seven million pounds, and the house didn’t even sell for that much. It had to happen fast, and there aren’t too many people jumping to buy a ten-million-pound house in Manchester in March, in the pouring rain, especially not one decorated like that.”
“Decorated like what?”
Her gray eyes actually sparkled when she smiled.. I hadn’t known that was possible. “Look it up and you’ll see. Maybe wear your sunglasses. There was a disco ball in the ballroom. Get it? Ballroom? Never mind; I could’ve said no, and I didn’t. It didn’t feel like my house, and I wasn’t paying for it, so I figured—not up to me. And ended up in a white-and-silver house with way too many shiny surfaces. It was like living in the palace of the Snow Queen. I didn’t enjoy going bankrupt, but I’m not sorry about losing that house. I’ll bet Felipe ends up with another white-and-silver place once he’s out, too. It could only be four years or so, so who knows? He may even be playing again. And paying most of what he makes to cover the fines he still owes, of course. Maybe it’ll have to be a white-and-silver condo. Did I mention the house was eleven hundred square meters? Twelve thousand square feet. Every room in the place was enormous and every ceiling was extra-high, like it had been built for giants. Doesn’t that sound cozy? Decorating tip: don’t get white carpeting. Even if you don’t have a flood, you’ll be sorry. Or your wife will be.”
“Another point in my disfavor, then,” I said. “Flash house.”
“Ha. You must know your house is in excellent taste. Very natural. Very organic.”
“So he does have offshore money, I’m guessing, if you think he can pay back those judgments.”
“You’re asking the wrong person.” She said it cheerfully, but I was guessing she couldn’t really be taking it that lightly, or why was she hiding here? “What else could it be?”
“Trying not to ask it,” I said.
“Oh, boy. Ask what? Whether he was being blackmailed? Betting wildly on his own matches? Owed money to terrifying killers? I have no idea.”
“Why’d you marry him?” I asked.
She didn’t answer in the way I’d expected. She laughed. How did you rock this woman? “What, you don’t think a hugely unequal marriage on less than three months’ acquaintance is a great bet? You haven’t married anybody, I guess. You’re too smart for that.”
“You didn’t look me up.” I wasn’t sure if I was glad or insulted. The woman doesn’t want you, mate. She doesn’t care. Maybe that was what intrigued me so much. The thrill of the challenge. The chase. That wasn’t exactly a sterling testament to my character, but there you were. Women didn’t normally tell me no.
“Nope,” she said. “But it’s only fair that you tell me, now that you’ve dug through my shameful past.” She said the “shameful” part lightly. Maybe so, and maybe not. That trial couldn’t have been fun, and that video with the teammates’ wives would’ve hurt. Was there a woman alive who could have resisted looking at what was being said about her?
“Been married twice,” I said. “Divorced twice, too.”
“Ah,” she said. “Let’s hear why. I have a guess. I want to know if it’s right.”
I wasn’t going to like the answer, but I asked anyway. “What’s the guess?’
She grinned. That wasn’t a word you expected to use about a woman that beautiful, but she acted and seemed truly oblivious of her looks—grins, hair elastic, and all. “That they were very good-looking. Great dressers, confident, poised, polished, possibly good at flattery, and very, very good in bed. That you married them, discovered too late that, whoops! you actually had nothing to talk about, and started ignoring them. And they filed for divorce.”
“Maybe.”
“Ha. No ‘maybe’ about it.”
“So we’re both better off,” I said.
“Well, depending on your alimony situation,” she said, and I laughed again. I couldn’t see how she’d bounced back this quickly from the day before, and I suspected there was some brittleness there, but she’d never show it.
Pride, that was what she had, and not the kind that was really vanity. The kind that said, “I own my mistakes, and I won’t be cowed.”
I was too competitive, I’d been told, though I’d never seen what was wrong with that. How did you get anywhere if you weren’t driven to be the best? That was probably why I wanted her, though. Wanted to prove I was a better man than Felipe Moyano.
Which was stupid. She was beautiful, yeh, but I’d had beautiful women before. And like her, I’d learned something from my marriages.
“So,” I said, to remind myself of that, “you married him after three months.”
“Yep. Like an idiot. And not at all like a woman who’s been supporting herself for most of her life and knows what that means.”
“Not to mention your mum and cousin.”
Some white on the knuckles that gripped the wheel, and she wasn’t laughing now. “Yes. And here we see the big difference between you and me. It’s one thing to do stupid things when you’re the one with the resources. It’s another to throw your life away in a moment of madness when you can’t afford to. You’re right. I let them down, too. I promised my mom I’d pay for Delilah’s college. What would she have thought if she’d seen what happened to me? I couldn’t tell her, and I …” She stopped.
I said, “Pull into the café here.”
She said, “I don’t need a coffee, and it’s, what, a half-hour drive to your office? I can’t believe you do, either.”
“Believe what you like,” I said. “But pull in.”