Total Eclipse of the Heart

  When I got off work that evening, I was headed toward my car on the side of the diner when I noticed a black stretch limousine parked next to it.

  “This is not happening,” I said aloud to myself. “I don’t need this shit today.”

  I was expecting Mrs. Sterling to get out of the car as the driver rushed around to open the back passenger door. Instead, Mr. Sterling climbed out. I forced a smile as I approached him.

  “Brooke, how are you, dear?” He hugged me and I gave him a one-handed hug back. “We were waiting for you to get off. We didn’t want to disturb you in there.”

  “We?” I asked, getting a bad feeling.

  “Yes, the missus and I.” He pointed toward the open door of the car. “Can we have a word?”

  “I really need to get going. I have plans tonight.” I was lying, but they didn’t need to know all of that. “I can’t be late.”

  “Oh, with Patrick?”

  “No, I have other plans.”

  “This will only take a minute.” He pointed toward the door again. Reluctantly, I climbed into the limousine. Mrs. Sterling was sitting on the opposite seat from the rear and was smirking like she had just won the latest designer wardrobe from Paris.

  “Hello, Brooke,” she said snidely, emphasizing my name like it was a curse word.

  I didn’t respond; I waited for Mr. Sterling to climb in beside me, then the driver closed the door. He waited outside to give us some privacy.

  “What is this about, Mr. Sterling?” I asked, turning toward him. “I really only have a minute.”

  He stared at his wife for a few seconds, and she waved at him like he was her little puppy.

  He cleared his throat. “Brooke, my wife and I are gravely concerned about the situation between you and Patrick.”

  I sighed. “Situation? You mean the relationship between us?”

  “It’s not a real relationship,” Mrs. Sterling jumped in. “I tried to warn you before, but you wouldn’t listen.” She sat up in her seat, becoming irate. “I told you that he had another woman—many other women—but you’re so dumb, it went right over your head.”

  “I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a dumb woman. Maybe you should look in the damn mirror.”

  Mrs. Sterling flung her hand over her chest, like she was on the brink of a heart attack. Then she glared at her husband. “Are you going to allow her to talk to me like that?”

  Mr. Sterling held his palm up toward her. “Calm down, dear. Let me handle this.”

  “There’s nothing to handle,” I informed both of them. “Patrick is a grown-ass man. He’s an attorney; he provides for himself; and he—”

  “He provides for both of you,” the wench said, interrupting me.

  “Darling, didn’t I just ask you to let me deal with this?” Mr. Sterling actually raised his voice to her. Damn, maybe the man did possess some balls.

  “As I was saying,” I said, rolling my eyes at her, “Patrick is more than capable of making his own decisions, and so am I. Whether or not we stay together, or break up, has nothing to do with either one of you. We didn’t get together because of you and we won’t fall apart because of you.”

  Mr. Sterling reached into his right breast pocket and pulled out a burgundy leather checkbook. “Let’s keep this simple. How much is it going to take to make this situation go away?” He pulled out a gold pen and twisted it until the point popped out. “I’m sure that we can all find a way for you to be satisfied.”

  I glared at him for a moment while he started writing my name in the payee section on a check. Then he signed it.

  He looked me in the eyes. “So, name your price.”

  “You have me all wrong, both of you,” I stated with disdain. “There is no amount of money that will make me do something I don’t want to do. I won’t marry Patrick because of his money, even though he has asked me a hundred times. And I won’t walk away from him because of yours. If I walk, it’ll be because he and I can’t work things out. Can’t you comprehend that?”

  “Look, bitch, take the damn check!” Mrs. Sterling grabbed the checkbook from her husband, ripped the check out, and handed it to me. “Fill it in, whatever you want, and then leave my son the hell alone!”

  She shoved the blank check in my lap and sat back, like I was going to obey her orders. I picked it up and ripped it apart.

  “I’ve had enough of you calling me out of my name.” I sat up closer to her. “Let me tell you something. You think that you’re so high-and-mighty because you live in a mansion and ride around in a limousine, but you’re nothing. You think that your pussy is lined with gold and that you have Mr. Sterling wrapped around your little finger. Stop spending your time worrying about where Patrick is sticking his dick”—I pointed over my right shoulder to Mr. Sterling—“and start worrying about where he is sticking his.”

  “You really are the scum of the earth,” she said to me. “And you’re insane. We have a lovely marriage; always have. Now you want to make up lies.”

  I could feel Mr. Sterling shifting in his seat, worried about what might come out of my mouth next. He should have been worried.

  “Oh, so you think you’re the only woman your husband has fucked since you walked down the aisle damn near thirty years ago?”

  “I know I’m the only one!”

  I stared at Mr. Sterling, who looked like he was about to choke on his own saliva. Then I put my attention back on her. “Okay, you want to go hard. Let’s go hard.”

  Mr. Sterling jumped in. “Dear, let’s forget about this entire thing. Brooke is right. She and Patrick need to handle their own affairs.” He sighed. “I don’t mean affairs—their own personal matters.”

  “No, Mr. Sterling, let’s talk about affairs since that seems to be your wife’s favorite topic all the damn time.” I smirked at him; he frowned, knowing where I was going. “Does she know about Roberta?”

  “Roberta?” Mrs. Sterling stared at him. “Roberta Andrews? In Houston?”

  “Oh, so you do know about her?” I laughed. “Bet you don’t know everything though.”

  “Honey, let’s get out of here. Brooke said that she needed to be someplace.” Mr. Sterling yanked the door open, not bothering to tap on it for the driver to open it, as was customary. “We’ll discuss this at home.”

  “Discuss what?” Mrs. Sterling was finally putting two and two together—about damn time. “How does Brooke even know about Roberta Andrews?”

  “She’s your best friend, right?” I asked. “Your college roommate? Well, let’s just say that you’re not the only person she’s been sharing a room with. Your husband’s been fucking her all along. From what I hear, he was fucking her before he ever crawled up between your thighs.”

  “This is absurd!” Mr. Sterling grabbed my arm and tried to pull me from the car. “Frank, let’s get ready to go,” he said to the driver, who hightailed it around to the driver’s side to get in. “Brooke, just get out!”

  “Patrick told me all about it,” I continued, enjoying the hell out of ruining Mrs. Sterling’s perfect image. I pointed at Mr. Sterling with my left hand, pulling my right arm away from him at the same time. “He used to take Patrick there, to stay at her home, when he was a child. Everyone knew they were a couple but you. They’re still a couple. How do you like them apples? You call me dumb, but what kind of dumb broad doesn’t realize that her man has been fucking around on her for decades? Tell me that.”

  I could see that my work was done. Both of them were sitting there with their mouths hanging open, staring at each other.

  I began to climb out of the limousine. “You two work on your own affairs and leave Patrick and me alone.”

  As I pulled out of the parking lot in my Corolla a moment later, their limousine was still sitting there. I could only imagine what the conversation would be like on the way home.

  Damon

  May 4, 2008

  OVERNIGHT, Able Minded Dating became a success. I was overwhelmed. I don’t know if it was
all the press coverage or the viral campaign that I launched with commercials on YouTube or because it was such a different concept; it had to be a combination. We had more than fifty thousand members within the first twenty-four hours. Unfuckenbelievable!

  I rushed home to tell Carleigh, having stopped to purchase a bottle of Dom Pérignon at the liquor store a few blocks away. I never drank alcohol, but considered it to be a special occasion. They only had one left in stock so I got lucky—or so I thought. As soon as I walked through the door, I sensed something was off-kilter. Carleigh’s car was in the driveway, so I assumed she was there. I heard some voices coming from the backyard, then I heard Carleigh’s laugh. She hadn’t been laughing much since my accident.

  I went closer to the rear sliding door to find Carleigh, Jordan, and two men sitting around one of our patio tables, drinking beer. One of them, the taller of the two, was sitting too close to my wife for comfort; grinning in her face like he wanted to use his dick to knock a hole in something. They didn’t even notice that I’d arrived.

  “So, Carleigh,” he said in a deep, husky voice, “you still planning to spend your birthday in Vegas?”

  “You bet,” she responded giddily. “I hear it’s hot as hell out there though. I’ve never been and I’m excited.”

  Jordan took a swig of beer and added in her two whorish cents. “We’re going to turn Vegas the hell out. I can’t wait to win a shitload of money at the Bellagio.”

  The other man, who looked like he had already fucked Jordan once or twice, asked, “Isn’t that the hotel from all those Ocean movies?”

  “Yeah, man. The ones with George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Don Cheadle,” Carleigh’s flirt partner replied. “Don Cheadle is the man.”

  I didn’t know a damn thing about Carleigh planning to go to Vegas for her birthday. It was less than a month away and I’d made tentative plans to do something else. Now it appeared that she was planning to hang out with Jordan in Vegas. Now I don’t believe in controlling a woman. She should spend quality time with friends and even travel with them from time to time. My issue is her making arrangements without giving me any consideration whatsoever.

  The bigger issue was the man trying to push up on my wife. Who the fuck was he and who was he to her?

  Jordan said, “Where’s Mr. Crippled?”

  The two men laughed, and to my astonishment, Carleigh laughed.

  “He’s somewhere,” Carleigh replied. “Probably out worried about those stupid-ass websites.”

  “Websites?” one of the men asked.

  “He has these two dating websites,” Jordan said. “One for online sexual predators and one for people like him.”

  Carleigh was about to say something when I walked outside.

  “Hello, all,” I stated with much sarcasm in my voice. “Carleigh, I didn’t know we were expecting company.”

  Carleigh jumped up, looking guilty as hell. I couldn’t help but notice the smirk on Jordan’s face.

  “Damon, hey, baby.” Carleigh rushed over to me and gave me a kiss, not on the mouth but on the cheek. I noticed that shit, too. “We were just—”

  “Discussing your birthday in Vegas.” I eyed Carleigh with disdain. “When were you planning to mention your upcoming trip to me?”

  Carleigh sighed and seemed embarrassed. “Can we discuss that later?” She turned to her friends. “Honey, this is Arnold.” She pointed to the man who had been breathing all over her. Then she pointed to the other one. “And this is Gavin.”

  Gavin gave a slight wave. “What’s up, man?”

  “Everything’s cool,” I replied.

  I could see both of the bastards staring at my prosthetic arm. They had obviously discussed it at some point.

  I stared at the man with the punk-ass name. “So, Arnold, how do you know my wife?”

  “She and I have some real estate dealings together.”

  “Really?” I rubbed my chin purposefully with my fake fingers to draw even more attention to them. I wanted everyone to realize that I felt comfortable with my situation. “That’s odd, because I’ve never heard her mention you before.”

  Jordan decided to get smart. “Carleigh doesn’t have to report in to you about every single thing that she does.” Carleigh and I both glared at her, then she shrugged. “Well, shit, I’m just saying.”

  Carleigh started rubbing the small of my back. “I’ve known both Arnold and Gavin for years, baby. You remember that condominium complex that I sold a bunch of units for a few years back? Their company developed the building.”

  “Oh, so you’re on the development side.” I pulled slightly away from my wife. “I still have never heard of you.”

  I wanted to make it clear that Arnold was nothing; they were nothing. As far as I was concerned, nothing was ever going to come out of his advances. My natural instinct to stake out my territory had kicked in and I hated it, but had to do what came naturally.

  I turned to Carleigh. “Can I see you inside for a moment?”

  I heard her say, “I’ll be right back,” to them as she followed me into the house and down the hallway to my study.

  Once inside, I shut the door and pressed her up against the wall with my body.

  “Who is that man to you?”

  “Nobody,” she responded, too quickly for my liking. “Like I said, he’s a colleague.”

  “In all this time, how come I’ve never heard of him or met him? Yet, all of a sudden, he’s in our backyard drinking beer and disrespecting me by trying to get in your pants.”

  Carleigh pushed into my chest to create a distance between us, then went and sat down on the leather recliner.

  “Arnold is not trying to sleep with me. Don’t be ridiculous.” She sighed. “Besides, even if he did want to sleep with me, it takes two to make that happen.”

  I stared at Carleigh, trying to sense whether she would actually go so far as to cheat on me. I decided that I didn’t think she would go that hard, so I changed the subject.

  “I’d made plans for us to go away for your birthday.” She looked at me, surprised. “I was going to take you to New Orleans. We haven’t been back there since we met. We never got to explore the city together, and I thought it would be nice.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “That’s because it was going to be a surprise.” I walked around my desk and sat down in my chair. “Ironically, I booked a room at the Harrah’s Casino down there. Thought you might like it.” I shook my head. “At least I was on the right track.”

  “Damon, I can cancel the trip with Jordan. It’s no big deal.”

  “No, you go ahead.” I grinned. “Have a good time.”

  “But, I—”

  I held up my palm to stop her. “It’s okay, honey. We can go to New Orleans some other time.”

  “Maybe we can go down for Mardi Gras. I realize that’s some time away, but I’ve always wanted to go to Mardi Gras, and we can stay in the French Quarter and—”

  “That’s sounds great, baby. Let’s do just that.”

  “What does Mardi Gras mean anyway?”

  “It’s French for ‘fat Tuesday.’ ”

  Carleigh laughed. “Damn, I never knew that. I mean, I knew about Fat Tuesday, but never realized that was the exact translation.”

  She was rambling. She always did that when she was nervous. But why was she nervous?

  She started eyeing the closed door, like a child trying to escape a lecture from her parents. “Jordan and I are going out to a play tonight. Is that cool?”

  “Are Arnold and Gavin going also?”

  Carleigh seemed hesitant. “Honestly? Yes, they bought the tickets. It’s not a date or anything like that, Damon. Just hanging out. We’ve all had a rough time lately and, you know, no big deal.”

  I was still trying to absorb that she had actually asked me if I wanted her to be honest with me. That led me to believe that something was wrong, but I didn’t want to admit it.

  “Damon?”

  “Y
ou all go ahead and have a good time.”

  Carleigh got up and opened the door. She paused and turned to me. “So how’s the new site coming along?”

  I looked at her, and all of the excitement that I’d felt when I’d rushed home with the bottle of champagne—the one she didn’t even notice sitting on the counter when we walked through the kitchen—had dissipated.

  I shrugged. “It’s going okay, so far. We’ll have to see what happens over time.”

  “I’m sure it will do incredibly well.” She came around my desk and kissed me, this time on the lips. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was because Arnold was not there to witness it. “I love you, Damon. I can stay home, if you want. I’ll just reimburse them for the ticket and tell them to go ahead.”

  “I love you.” I gazed into her eyes for a brief moment, searching for a life rope. Even though she had spoken those words about staying at home, I could tell that she was lying. The thought of being around what she considered an “invalid” instead of being around normal people was killing her. “You have a nice time.”

  “But, I can—”

  “I didn’t see any other cars out front. Aren’t they supposed to be riding with you?”

  “Well, yeah, but Jordan can drive my car and—”

  “Carleigh, please go and enjoy yourself. I have a lot of work to do, anyway, on both websites.”

  Carleigh slowly moved away from me, staring at me as she moved backward toward the door. She grinned, like a convict about to escape a prison, and with that I watched her saunter off down the hallway to join her friends.

  Brooke

  May 5, 2008

  WHEN I showed up at Patrick’s house the following evening, I knew that no bath would be waiting for me. He had left me a dozen messages, going off about my telling on his dearest father. At first, I did feel a little bad about it, but then I realized that I had nothing to feel bad about. They both asked for it by trying to get into my relationship with their son. I came out of the diner, minding my own business, and they were lying in wait like two predators ready to pounce. First rule of the wild: don’t pull out your claws unless you’re prepared to be mangled your damn self.