Chapter Three
Grace
How weird.
It’s already nine, and Peter still isn’t home. His assistant said he left the office around seven thirty, so I timed my cooking so everything would be done as he walked through the door. The dinner’s cold now. So is the kitchen, for that matter. The sauce I made for the shrimp and pasta sits in an unappetizing, congealed lump. The vinaigrette I whipped up for the salad has separated, oil forming a layer on top of the balsamic vinegar.
I run a hand down my black dress. It’s a classy piece I picked up for twenty bucks several years ago. I’ve only worn it twice, and underneath it is some sexy underwear and silky thigh-highs I bought on sale with a Christmas gift card—for the perfect end to our evening and celebration. Peter deserves it after working so hard for the promotion, coming home late and exhausted for months on end.
What happened? A car accident?
I text him again. And again, nothing. He hasn’t read my earlier messages, either. Worry begins to mount, and my anxiety spikes. This reminds me eerily of the time Mom became seriously sick for the first time when I was in high school. She didn’t come home when she was supposed to, didn’t answer the phone like she was supposed to.
Is Peter okay?
My phone buzzes, and I immediately check the screen.
–Adam: Hey, GG, you coming to the party?
I frown.
–Me: What party?
–Adam: The one to celebrate Peter’s promotion.
The world seems to spin a bit.
–Me: Is this a surprise party?
–Adam: No. Everyone in the office knew about it. Kacey planned it last week. I thought Peter invited you?
No, he didn’t. Hasn’t uttered a word about it. And why didn’t Kacey say something when I contacted her earlier? As his admin, she knows his schedule.
–Me: Must have slipped his mind. Where’s the party?
–Adam: At SportsBrews. Right across from the office.
I know the place. It’s famous for serving specialty beers from local microbreweries. But it’s even more famous for its late-night snacks for lawyers burning the midnight oil. Everyone at Huxley & Webber has spent time there at some point.
–Me: I’ll be there soon.
I drive my ten-year-old Corolla over to the bar. Even from the street, it’s obvious the bar’s packed with lawyers in their fancy suits and confident swagger. The firm is one of the best in the country, and most associates there behave like they’re God’s Chosen. But then… I guess God must really love you for you to be able to attend an elite law school. You can have all the talent and drive in the world, but circumstances can keep you from realizing your full potential. I think about my perfect LSAT score, and the fact that I’m never going to be able to attend a law school.
I park on the street and go in. Buzzing conversations provide a counterpoint to Kurt Cobain’s vocals on the sound system. I look around for Peter—the lanky six-two frame in a charcoal-gray suit, topped with a golden head. He’s not near the door, so I start pushing through the crowd.
About halfway into the bar, slurred words come from a nook to my right. “At some point, y’know, you just need to move on.”
Peter?
He’s standing with his back to me, one arm wrapped around a brunette in a red dress with a magenta scorpion tattoo on her shoulder. I inhale sharply as shock punches my gut. The design is something I’ll never forget—it’s the tattoo my half-sister Vivienne got the day she wrecked my car, which happened to be the day before Mom was rushed to the ER. Viv had been worried about her tattoo parlor being in a bad part of town, and didn’t feel safe driving her Maserati there. I ignored her babbling, not realizing that she was planning to filch the key to my car from my bedroom and take it instead.
Of course, she denied she was responsible for the crash. Karie said I would need to pay for the repairs, until the police showed her security footage from a gas station near where Viv fucked up my car.
After that, I put a small security camera in my bedroom to make sure Viv will never be able to lie about taking my things and get away with it. I would’ve been so screwed without the cops’ help.
What the hell is Peter doing with Viv? And why is his arm around her like she’s his date?
She says something to him and trots away without seeing me in the crowd.
Now that Peter’s with just guys, his shoulders relax a little. A lawyer to his left says, “Where’s your girlfriend?”
Yeah, what about your girlfriend , Peter?
I can see a just-between-you-and-me-boys smile on Peter’s face in the reflection on the window.
“You didn’t hear what I said earlier about moving on? It doesn’t just apply to cases, man. Everything in life. Including women. It isn’t like we’re really compatible,” he says. “I only slept with her because I thought she could help my career.”
What?
“She was crushing on me hard, you know? And I didn’t want to be mean, especially since she’s Andreas’s grandkid.”
“Why was she crushing on a bastard like you?” one of the lawyers says. Guy talk.
“Because I’m hot?” Peter laughs. “Nah, I did something nice for her once, and after that she wouldn’t leave me alone. It was a little pathetic.”
That wasn’t how we reconnected . He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with his fob because it refused to unlock his car in a Home Depot parking lot. I recognized him instantly, although it took him a few minutes to remember me. I fixed the fob by replacing the battery—it happened to me once—and he asked me out for coffee.
I might’ve been happy enough to run into him again that I was a bit too friendly for his taste. But that doesn’t give him the right to trample on my gratitude and affection.
Waves of tremors rack me. Humiliation and pain pool in my belly like acid.
“And sort of useless.” He sounds annoyed. “I thought the least she’d do would be to tell Andreas or Nelson how hard I’m working. Try to help out with my career if she wanted to really be useful.” He shrugs. “It’s fine, though. I’ve upgraded. Viv is better anyway.” He tilts his head in that particular way, and I can tell he’s smirking. Bet he’s smug that he’s been given the promotion he wanted, thanks to Viv. And here I thought he was working to earn the promotion.
Disappointment drips through the ignominy of my situation.
He opens his mouth to say more, but I step forward. I’ve heard enough. “Peter.”
He stiffens, then turns. “Grace! Wow. What are you doing here?”
“Oh geez, let’s see…” I tap my chin, then snap my fingers. “Oh, that’s right—I was told my boyfriend was having a party to celebrate his promotion.”
“Well. Yeah.” His eyes are bright with rapid calculation. He’s probably wondering how much I heard and what he can say to get out of the pile of shit he stepped into. Finally, he smiles. “Great! Glad you could join us.”
I shake my head. The men around him look at each other, shifting their weight. Are they embarrassed they got caught, or worried that I might badmouth them to Nelson? Either way, it’s gross.
“Are you? Did you cheat on me with Viv to get ahead?”
He knows the game is up. “I wouldn’t call it cheating .” He gives me a patronizing smile.
My temper rises. Does he think his lawyerly talk is going to work on me? “Of course not. It’s called sleeping your way to the top because that’s all you’re good for.”
The smile vanishes. “You aren’t that good in bed, at least not enough to marry. So what value do you have if you can’t help with my career?”
“Should I repeat that to Nelson?” I say in my most saccharine voice.
He shuts his mouth and merely glares.
I laugh mockingly. “Thought so.”
His face turns pink. The humiliation of being caught and told off in front of his colleagues is likely too much for him to handle. “You know what? In law school, which you’ll never go to, they teach us to deal with facts. And here are the facts of this case: same bed, different woman, and that was all it took! Viv is fantastic, and she makes more sense for me in every way.”
Oh my God. He slept with my half-sister in my bed? Disgusting! I just bought new sheets, too!
“She’s going to Harvard Law, you know,” he says.
“And?” I snort. “She hasn’t graduated yet, has she?”
I know she won’t graduate. My money’s on her dropping out before the first year is over. She wasn’t qualified to be admitted in the first place. The only reason she got in is because I took the LSAT for her last year. Karie practically ordered me to, saying that if I didn’t, she’d make sure I took on a bigger share of Mom’s medical expenses. The amount she demanded was ridiculous—five thousand a month, which I could never afford.
“Pretty sure that’s some kind of extortion,” I told her. “And thus illegal.”
She just shrugged. “Oh well. I guess if your mom dies it’ll be because her only child didn’t care enough.”
I couldn’t ask Nelson for help, since he stood next to Karie the entire time without saying a word. And if I’d brought it up with Andreas, Nelson and Karie would both deny it, claiming I misunderstood. Andreas is aware of his son’s shitty personality, but I’m not sure how he’d react if Nelson, Karie and Viv all insisted I was misrepresenting the situation. And that was assuming I’d even be able to see him. He’s always busy, and his assistants hate shifting his appointments around for a nobody like me. I resent that my situation leaves me with no choice but to accept the little charity the Webbers deign to bestow on me to keep me quiet.
“Give her three years, and she will,” Peter says. “You’re just jealous because she’s better at everything than you.”
“Fine. Just replace my sheets and bed. I’m not sleeping in a bed you soiled with Viv.”
“Ha! You’re lucky I fucked you at all.”
“So you aren’t going to replace them?”
He smirks. “Sue me for ’em.”
Sue him? Something dangerous shifts inside me. “If that’s the way you want it.”