Forbidden Fruit

1. Clive

Clive

K ay’s place looks even bigger from the driveway, a brick mansion in a neighborhood of brick mansions, with giant, white pillars out front that make it look like a southern plantation. I doubt she cares for it, but it’s the biggest one on the block, which she’s always wanted. I push the doorbell and wait with the folder of divorce papers under my arm, shifting from one foot to another. She opens the door, her blonde hair tied back like she’s attending a tennis match.

“You look the same as ever,” she says, meaning rich.

“Thanks,” I say. “This won’t take long, right?”

She lets me in, and I try to hide my distaste for her style, all glass, chrome, and furniture nobody should sit on. The place looks like it should be roped off and full of tourists. The rug beneath my feet is probably worth more than a car, but I don’t want to know. Kay waits until I close the door behind me before she plants a peck on my cheek.

“You never did appreciate this house,” she says.

“I’m a simple man, Kay. I like things I can use.”

Her laugh sounds more like a bark. “That’s why you’re leaving with the yacht.”

“Boats are practical,” I say.

Her heels click as she leads me into the kitchen. It’s too much, with all white marble, tall ceilings, and cabinets full of china that never see daylight. She has flowers delivered daily just to keep the vases full like anyone who’d ever been here would be impressed by something as small as fresh flowers.

“Coffee?” she asks, looking me over like she can’t figure out why I don’t look more defeated.

“I don’t think this will take long enough for me to finish it.”

“I can make it last,” she says.

She pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit down. It’s a big gesture, but they’re all big gestures with Kay. I put the folder on the table and pull up a seat.

“Not everything, apparently,” I say.

She waves me off like a dog that just peed on the carpet.

“So what are you doing these days, Clive? You have someone lined up already?”

I almost laugh. I have no one. No time. Not yet, anyway.

“Filling out my calendar with events like this,” I say.

“Oh, please. Do you know how many offers I’ve had? You won’t believe the men?—”

“I’d believe it. You’ll have to tell me all about it some other time. Now, can we get this done?”

She sighs. I’m just another thing she has to check off her list, and I’m okay with that. The papers are a thick stack. My lawyers said it would be the last batch, but I’ve learned never to trust a lawyer’s first prediction. I pass them to her.

She flips through the pages, hardly even glancing at them. It took years for us to get to this point, but now she won’t pretend there’s any mystery left. She was in this for the long haul. The money haul. I wish I’d been surprised, but that’s not what we did.

“A woman gets used to a certain way of life, you know,” she says.

“You can still afford the mortgage,” I say. “Probably a new place in Manhattan, too.”

She gives me a look that would scare most people. I stare right back at her. There was a time when I wouldn’t, but that time’s gone.

“You’re getting more than your mother ever did,” I add. It’s cruel, but she needs a reminder of where she came from occasionally. From the way her jaw sets, I think it worked.

“Now you sound like Jack,” she says, smirking a little.

I sigh and lean back in the chair, a huge white thing that makes me feel small. “Jack is still expecting to get half the company?” I ask.

“Clive. You know that’s not what this is about.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort.”

“I’m insulted. After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Everything you’ve done for me has been billable, Kay.”

She sighs and looks back at the stack of papers. We’ve had this conversation a hundred times, but now it’s different. Now, I’m not arguing for anything. I already have it.

“You’re sure there’s nothing else you’d like to give me?” she asks.

“A hard time?” I say. “No, thanks. You can keep that.”

“Damn right, I will.”

We sit across from each other, and it feels like we’re in one of those old Westerns. I half expect her to pull a revolver from that Louis Vuitton bag and start shooting.

“It’s been loveless, you know,” I say.

She rolls her eyes, something she’s perfected over the years. “Oh, you think?”

I give her a minute to come back with a quip. When she doesn’t, I lean in closer. “This is a good deal, Kay.”

“I should have taken that acting job instead,” she says.

“You’d have been wonderful on the big screen.” I smile at her. She can’t keep her lips from twitching. There’s the flash of why I ever married her, but I have to think back years and years to remember.

“You’re going to give her everything, you know,” she says. “The next one.”

I shrug. “That’s between me and the next one.”

She drops the stack of papers, and it sounds like a coffin lid slamming shut. I look at the signature line on top. She hasn’t signed.

“Where’s Jack?” I ask.

“Where do you think?” she says.

“Last I saw him, he was on vacation. Then, vacation again. He called it a sabbatical.”

“He’s finding himself.”

“Was he lost? Because I have a whole office full of people who don’t seem to have a problem finding him.”

“Clive. Please.”

“I’m happy to do something for him,” I say. “When he’s earned it.”

She leans back and picks up the papers again. “So the answer is no, you won’t promote my son.”

“Not this year.”

“Ever.”

“Maybe ever.”

Her eyes flick back to me, all cold blue and plastic. “And I thought you were softening in your old age.”

“I’m soft enough. Look, Kay, this is what you agreed to. This was the deal. You want to change it now?”

I reach for the papers like I’m ready to leave if that’s what she wants. Her eyes dart around the room like she’s trying to find something to throw at me. But then she lets out a huge sigh.

“Oh, fine,” she says. “You always did get your way, Clive.”

The papers rustle as she picks them up. I can almost taste this freedom, the life I’m about to start. Maybe without anyone but myself in it. Maybe not.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” she says, signing her name with a flourish.

I don’t say a word.

“Jack will owe me, too.”

“That one’s true enough,” I say.

She looks at me like I’m already out the door as if she can see my back disappearing. And that’s what I intend for her to see. She gets up from the table and puts the papers back in the folder, slamming it in front of me. She even manages to make that dramatic.

“There you go, Mr. Bishop,” she says, like she’s the one granting me the favor.

I take the folder and try not to smile. If I do, Kay will see it as a sign of weakness, but she’d be wrong. I’ve got strength enough for both of us now. Her eyes linger on me, still chilly, but there’s something behind them now. I think it might be a little bit of respect. But it might just be anger.

“Stay a few more minutes,” she says, handing me a glass with some age. The whiskey, not the glass. “There’s something I need from you.”

“We both know you have everything you need,” I say.

I settle into a low, black chair. It feels like sitting on a suitcase. Kay perches on the edge of a new-looking couch. I think she’s going for a casual effect, but nothing is casual with Kay.

“So,” she says. “Jack.”

“Kay,” I say, nodding back.

“Stop it.”

“Your son. My stepson.” I take a sip of the whiskey. It goes down well.

She tries to look annoyed, but I see the smile she’s fighting back.

“You know what I mean, Clive. You have him working under people you’ve only known for a few years. That’s not fair.”

“No,” I say. “It’s fair. It’s perfectly fair. That’s the problem.”

She swirls her drink, eyes on me. I’m enjoying this more than I should. More than I thought I would. “Is Jack going to have a future at the company?” she asks.

“Of course, he has a future. I think I’ve been more than generous. After all, I haven’t fired him despite his refusal to work.”

“Clive,” she says, putting on the tone that used to get to me. “I want him to have a chance.”

“I’m giving him that. A chance. If he starts pulling his weight, he’ll go places. Until then, not a chance.”

“You could make him VP.”

“True,” I say. “I could also put your son in charge of engineering. Maybe he could solve the big data problems by being there in person.”

She rolls her eyes, but I know her well enough to see she’s already losing patience. She thought she could have this argument, get what she wants, and be done with it. I love showing her she’s wrong.

“Kay, listen,” I say. “He needs to work harder.”

“He is working hard,” she says, leaning in. “You’re just not seeing it. You know what he wants to do, don’t you?”

“Get a promotion?” I say.

“Get married.”

I almost spit out my drink. “Jack has a funny way of showing it,” I say. “Unless I missed something.”

“That’s what he wants,” she says, sounding sincere.

“That’s what you want,” I say.

She makes a huffing noise. “Not every man is like you,” she says. “Jack can think of other things besides business.”

“Not your Jack,” I say.

She ignores that. “I hear Jack and Becca have been looking at rings.”

“If they have, Jack is completely unaware of it. He’s too busy sowing his oats and stringing that poor girl along to think of marriage.”

“That’s awful.”

“It’s also true.”

She sighs and stares at her drink like she may cry into it. “You’re not even giving Jack a chance,” she says.

“Why is it a chance when it’s handed to him, but work when it’s not?” I say. “Kay, if you think this is the way to get whatever you want, you’ve been spending too much time around people who do what you say.”

She puts her glass down slowly and carefully. It’s supposed to show that she’s not happy. It’s a temper tantrum for the rich.

“If he doesn’t get that promotion,” she says.

“He’ll still be paid more than most people,” I say. “I think he’ll survive.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, Clive. You do.” She looks at me, really looks at me. I’m not used to that. She’s not used to doing it. It takes her a second to come up with what to say next. “I know you don’t like him much.”

I sigh. Kay’s right. “It’s not about liking him.”

“Of course it is,” she says. “And now that we’re splitting?—”

“Now that we’re splitting, he’s got just as much chance as anyone else.”

“Less,” she says.

“More,” I say. “Jack’s got a job. It’s a good one.”

“But no future.”

“I can’t give him a future unless he starts earning it.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“I mean, I can’t,” I say. “I’d lose half my team if I started handing things out like that.”

“And that would be a tragedy.”

“Kay, it’s my company. And I think I know how to run it.”

She stands up and moves to the big windows. There’s a view of nothing but more houses, big brick things with lots of lawn. The kind of neighborhood she wanted. The type of life she thought she’d get. She looks smaller than she used to. I never thought that would happen.

“You could do it if you wanted to,” she says. Her voice is soft and uncertain, and for a second, I almost think I might change my mind. Almost.

I laugh. Kay looks at me like I just slapped her. But it’s better than pitying her. That’s one thing she can’t stand and one thing I’m too proud to do.

“Come on, Kay,” I say. “You’re getting a hell of a deal. Don’t make this about Jack.”

“Why not?” she says. “You’ve made everything else about Jack.”

I sigh and put my drink down next to hers. Kay was never very good at the emotional appeal, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.

“Look,” I say. “You’re going to have to get used to it. Life without me doing everything for you.”

“That won’t be so hard,” she says. She’s standing straight again. I knew that look wouldn’t last.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I’m not used to seeing you so damned happy,” she says.

“That’s about to change,” I say.

We look at each other, and I see something new in her eyes. It’s panic or something close. She thinks I’ve already moved on. She thinks she’s been replaced.

“Kay, I haven’t—” I start. But then I see the way she’s watching me. It’s almost like a challenge. Almost like the woman I married.

“Oh, forget it,” I say. “You won’t believe me, anyway.”

“About anything?”

“About a lot of things,” I say. “But not about Jack. He needs to stand on his own.”

I can’t tell if it’s a smile or a snarl, but her lips curl as she turns to the window.

“I think you mean me,” she says.

“That’s what you’d like to think.”

“No, Clive,” she says, still looking away. “That’s what you’d like to think.”

I take my drink and toss it back. This was supposed to be easy. Just one quick visit, and then I’m gone. But Kay’s always known how to keep me hanging on longer than I want. She turns around just in time to see me put the empty glass on the table.

“Leaving already?” she says. “I thought I was getting through to you.”

“Getting through,” I say. “But not with what you wanted.”

She smirks at me. I’d like to say it’s the same old smirk, but it’s not. There’s something new in it. Like she’s about to take a swing.

“Tell you what,” she says. “There is something else I want to talk to you about.”

I knew this wouldn’t be simple. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I heard about Jack, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I saw her, no matter how much I want that. But now she has my attention.

“All right,” I say. “You’ve got me.”

“Two minutes,” she says.

“Try me.”

“Sit back down, Clive,” she says. “It might take longer than you think.”

She was never easy to get away from.