Chapter 35 #2
But when it was all over, relief became the predominant emotion because the car was in my name and the registration paid. Even better? My checking account still had plenty left for loan payments and rent and whatnot. I turned in the direction of Trista’s house.
Oh, she’d played her part well. She’d pretended not to know who I was or what I was about, had gone along with my Anonymous McGee—at least, until I went to her house for the flocking, at which point it seemed safe enough to get to know each other.
Or so I had thought.
I didn’t want to believe Ken, but I remembered that she’d said she wanted to hire me to serve papers because she didn’t trust the other guy to do it.
Well, I guessed not since the other guy was Ken, and he had yet to figure out that there were two Malones.
Ken had pointed her to my Malone, and he would’ve served divorce papers to the wrong person, something Trista must’ve realized when she saw Malone’s tattoo in my doorbell cam footage.
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
By the time I made it to Trista’s house, my rage monster was threatening to come out again, but at the sight of Trista’s three daughters entering the house with knapsacks and artwork, I put my rage monster on a leash.
I got out of my car and called “Hey” to stop Trista before she reached her front door.
At the sight of me, she froze.
“I’d like to have a word with you,” I said.
She nodded. “Ken texted me, so I thought you might. Let me get the kids settled, and we can talk on the back deck.”
She led the way into the house, and we followed the sounds of giggling, indignation, and teasing, both good-natured and otherwise.
The girls were in the kitchen getting snacks and talking about their day at art camp.
If they were curious about me, they didn’t let on.
Trista pointed to a door on the other side of the kitchen, and I made my exit to a screened-in porch.
Waiting gave me time to calm down, but it was still a slow process.
Finally, she joined me outside, looking more tired than she ever had.
She certainly wasn’t offering mimosas today.
“So,” she said.
I attempted a stare but could only come up with a squint.
The roof over the screened porch didn’t do much in the way of shielding us because it faced west. The sun came at us sideways, giving us the full brunt of a summer afternoon in Georgia.
A trickle of sweat slid down my back. Times like this, I was sure hell was humid.
But I would desiccate from dehydration and drift into the wind before I said another word. My glare was doing the talking.
She sighed and took a seat. I did the same.
“About a year ago I first suspected something was up with Blake. I’d gone to school with Ken, a year or two behind him, so I hired him to see if my husband had a mistress.”
So odd to think that I had probably handled that invoice and never thought a thing of it. That had been a lifetime ago, before I met my Malone. It also made sense of why Trista hadn’t wanted me to find the mistress. She already had someone looking for her.
“He told me Blake was living in that apartment. I didn’t question it because I knew Malone Construction leased one. Blake and I had, ah, taken advantage of it when we were first dating.”
“So the thought that he might be entertaining someone else there stung all the more?”
“Of course it did!”
“Tell me this, Trista. I never thought you were working against me. I thought we were kindred spirits. Was any part of that real?”
“What’s real? The bitterness is, and has always been, real. What I asked you to do? It may have been Ken’s idea, but the idea of getting even the smallest bit of revenge on Blake gave me great joy even if I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which you would actually succeed.”
“Let me guess: You were going to stiff me on payment?”
“No, no. I mean, that was Ken’s suggestion, but he only wanted me to keep tabs on you. I reasoned that I’d be happy to pay you if you somehow managed to get the job done.”
“And then I showed you the video.”
“I could’ve died when I realized Ken wasn’t even following my husband. When it came time to serve papers, I saw that you were more reliable than Ken, which, honestly, I should’ve known. Jackie recommended him, and I shouldn’t have trusted her either, bless her heart.”
“But you did report back to him on what I was doing?”
She winced. “At first. I told him you were going to do something for Denise and covertly sent him a picture of the flamingos, but I didn’t tell him anything after that, I swear.”
Interesting. Ken had been happy to let me believe Trista had been on his side all along.
Of course, my BS detector was irrevocably broken, so what did I know? Too bad there was no extended warranty for women’s intuition.
We sat there in the sun, sweating. I couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t offered me anything to drink.
“Well, I wash my hands of anything and everything having to do with the Malone family,” I said as I stood. “And for the record, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.”
“Disappointed?”
“Yes, I think I took one job for a guy. The rest were all for women. Sure, I did it because I needed the money, but I envisioned Little Miss Petty as a way for women to help each other, and here you were spying on me the entire time.”
“Not the entire time. And it was just a favor for a friend.”
“A friend? So you and Ken are buddies?”
“Fine for a friend of a friend.”
“And you knew he’d cheated on me, right? You still wanted to help your friend after that?”
She looked away. “I guess I wasn’t putting two and two together. He didn’t mention that you were his girlfriend, just his former business partner.”
“Left the girlfriend part out, did he?”
“That’s why you said you’d been traded in for a younger model. I should’ve seen that.”
“Exactly. I trusted you. I commiserated with you. I did a silly job for you, yes, but when you called, I answered. Speaking of, why the heck did you call me when the FBI raided your house? Why not call Ken?”
“Because I knew you were competent. And you already knew about Blake, so it wouldn’t be as embarrassing as calling one of my other friends.”
“‘Other friends,’ huh?” I chuckled a little. “So you’d started to think of me as a friend, too? I considered you one. Not necessarily someone I had all that much in common with, but someone I wanted to help. But friends don’t spy on friends. Friends don’t team up with the ex of a friend.”
“But we weren’t friends then, and I didn’t know he was the ex!”
“But you knew about the business part. You could’ve told me.”
“You wouldn’t have believed me!”
I leaned back. “I probably would’ve believed you. You forget, I knew Ken far better than you did.”
“Well, I didn’t know I could trust you, now did I?” she snapped.
And that was the crux of the problem.
“I didn’t know if I could trust you, either, but I did.
And, yes, I needed the money. Yes, the whole thing is probably ridiculous, but it’s also ridiculous that I’ll end up paying twice as much for my student loans as I borrowed.
It’s farcical that I had to put a car loan in my partner’s name because my father ruined my credit.
Ludicrous that same partner would then refuse to give me the title even though I made the payments.
Shameful that I put so much work into his business and our house, but I don’t get jack because we weren’t officially married.
But also crazytownbananapants that your husband can clean out all your joint accounts even though you are married.
I could go on, but I won’t. What I’m trying to say is that this world wants us to think we’re in a competition for male attention, but, really, we need to stick together. I trusted you.”
“Well, that’s your mistake. Although I suppose a part of me knew you were more trustworthy than my other so-called friends, who are now gossiping about me on tennis courts and over Facebook after the FBI raid.
You’re living in a fantasy world, if you think women can trust each other.
How many good women friends do you have? True friends. Ride-or-die friends.”
“Funny you should mention that,” I said.
“Not long before you came to me, I met two women who fit the bill. If I didn’t have many friends before, it was partially due to the odd hours of my job but mostly due to seeing the world in just the way you described—not that I realized it at the time.
Heck, I have one neighbor who brought me a casserole and another who watches my cat.
I am surrounded by women who have my back. ”
Her face contorted as her anger melted into sadness.
“Where do you find them?” she asked, seeming honestly perplexed.
“Trista, to have friends like that, I guess you have to be one. You have to be vulnerable enough to trust even when the world says you shouldn’t.”
She took in a ragged breath. “I do apologize. If I’d known then what I know now, I would’ve never agreed to spy on you.”
“Apology accepted.” The words left my mouth of their own accord, but they felt right even as they surprised me.
Her eyes met mine, her mouth an O of shock. “Really?”
“Really.”
She studied the worn boards of the porch. “Before you go, I need to write you that last check.”