The Wentworths Page 18

  “They’re beautiful,” Honey said. And they were, some kind of lily. “But I don’t think I have anything to put them in.”

  Gus laughed and pulled from behind his back, a clear glass cylinder, plain but elegant. “I grabbed this from home.” He handed her the vase. “Figured you might need it.”

  “Won’t your wife . . .”

  “Naw, we got tons of this kind of stuff.” Gus took the flowers and headed towards the kitchen. “Got to cut the stems before you put them in water.”

  Honey followed Gus. He opened the kitchen drawer and pulled out a knife then sawed off the bottom two inches of the stems as she filled the vase with water.

  “When they start to open,” he said. “You want to pull these guys off.” He put the flowers in the vase and demonstrated how to remove the end of the stamen. “Get them right away when the petals start to open otherwise you’ll get pollen all over the place and it kind of ruins the look of the flowers.” He carried the vase back out into the living room and sat it down on the coffee table.

  “Thank you, Gus.” Honey didn’t know what to think. Who was this guy? Why was he being so nice? Lessons on flower arranging?

  “It’s the least I can do, Honey.”

  I love Honey, I really do, but I’ve got to get rid of her, move her somewhere far away. Angela Simms is a goddamn psycho and there is no reason why she shouldn’t use Honey as a weapon against me, against the entire Wentworth family. Honey is a definite weakness in my defense. It’s not going to be easy though. She’s got a pretty good deal here, don’t you think? I pay the rent, Kimmy’s school. All she’s got to worry about are the incidentals and how much can they be? Plus, Honey loves me. So it’s complicated.

  Judith parked her car halfway up the block. She’d seen August go into the butler’s panty and take that vase, not one of her better ones but it was expensive, very good quality glass. What on earth was he doing? He’d thought she was upstairs in the bath and so he slipped quietly from the house, probably thrilled that he got out undetected. Fool. There was very little that Judith didn’t notice in the home, not much got by her. She grabbed her purse and keys and followed. First he’d stopped at The Woods, Twigs and Flowers. What on earth? That was her florist. Was he getting something for Judith? Not a chance. A sick friend? He would have mentioned that. In fact, he would have insisted that Judith take care of floral arrangements if it was for a friend. She parked behind a dumpster and waited in the parking lot of the dry cleaners next door while he went into the florist. It occurred to her that she could stop him. Just walk up and tell him to turn around. It was her chance to insist that he not do whatever he was considering, come home. They could go on as usual, no harm done, pretend it never happened. She would put that vase back in the pantry and everything would be fine. But when she saw August walk to his car carrying a huge bouquet of Casa Blanca lilies, her favorite flower, Judith knew that things had already gone too far. There was no turning back.

  Honey took off her blouse. The sooner she got this over the better. Then she could talk to Gus about getting help. She was going to try extra hard in bed today, get him in a really good mood, then lay out her plan.

  “Wait,” Gus said. “Come sit on the couch first. Let’s talk.”

  Honey dropped her blouse on the chair and sat next to Gus. Maybe he wanted to just look at her in her bra. You never knew what Gus wanted when he showed up. It was hard to anticipate what would turn him on on any given day.

  “Honey,” he said. “I know that you and Kimmy are very happy here.” Gus took her hand and stroked her fingers, something he’d never done before. “The apartment, the neighborhood, walking distance to a great school. I know it must seem ideal to you.”

  Honey felt a panic rising in her body. What was he talking about? Had she ever said anything about being happy? Did she ever even smile when he was around? Not very often. But here he was outlining her great life, virtually making it impossible for her to contradict him. It was like Gus was sealing the windows and nailing shut the doors, getting ready to hold her prisoner in this world he’d help create.

  Judith walked up the sidewalk towards the shoddy pink stucco building. She’d seen him mount the stairs and knock on the door of that first apartment. Who on earth would live in a place like this? One of the maids? Was August Wentworth seeing one of her maids? Judith did a quick inventory. Rosa was working at the house. Carmen had been vacuuming upstairs when Judith left. Blanca was helping reorganize the kitchen over at Becky’s house today. No, her girls were all accounted for. And yet she couldn’t think of anyone they knew who would come to a place like this. Not that it was dangerous, it was just...cheap. Tacky. Judith felt her body relax. There had to be a perfectly good explanation. She reached the stairs and, careful not to touch the filthy railing, made her way up to find her husband.

  Honey looks cute sitting here in her bra, doesn’t she? How am I ever going to find someone like her again? Face it, I’m an old man and the young girls aren’t exactly beating a path to my door. Yes, of course I could pay for it, and I suppose you would say that I paid Honey for it, but that’s not really true. She’s different, a good kid. Good intentions. I trust Honey, I really do. And she cares about me, I can tell. We’ve developed something of a relationship, the two of us. It’s going to be hard on her, hard on both of us, when she goes. But what can I do?

  Honey let Gus play with her fingers. His hands were more clammy than usual, seemed like he was nervous about something. She kept waiting for him to continue talking but he just looked into her eyes.

  “You okay?” she said.

  “Fine.” He put his hand on her cheek and held her chin. “You have lovely eyes, Honey. I never noticed before.”

  “Thanks, Gus.” Honey leaned over and started to unzip his pants.

  “I need to talk.” He blew out a big breath. “We need to talk.”

  How’s a guy supposed to think in a situation like this? Might be the last time for us. The last time ever. That’s a very sad thought. And you know there are going to be tears, lots of tears, when I tell her. Poor thing, it’s going to break her heart. See how much she wants it? She’s not usually that enthusiastic about the blowjobs. Must be the flowers. Why didn’t I use the whole flowers and candy approach earlier? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why. She’s got me unzipped and I’m reporting for duty, on time and ready for action. Five star salute. I’ll tell her afterwards.

  Gus put his hands behind his neck and leaned back on the couch. He was ready. Honey took a deep breath and went to work.

  Judith stood outside the grimy white door of apartment #7. She knew she would have to knock eventually but she wasn’t quite ready. Did she really want to know? Did it matter? She leaned in close and listened. Nothing. Maybe nothing was going on. Nonsense. She knew there was something. She’d always known there was something. It was sad and it was painful but that’s just how men were, real men, and August was certainly a real man. It was biological, they couldn’t help it. So why was she here now? What did this one really matter? She’d ignored so many others over the years, why not continue to turn a blind eye? Because he took her vase, that’s why. How dare he take one of her things and give it to one of his strumpets. She wanted it back and she wanted her husband back too.

  Judith raised her right hand and pounded on the door.

  “Who’s that?” Gus sat forward.

  “Don’t know.” Honey sat up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Mrs. Rappaport? I’ll go see.”

  “No. Finish.” Gus guided Honey’s head back down then leaned back. “Ignore it.”

  The pounding came again, this time more insistent. Honey ran through the list of possibilities. If it was Mrs. Rappaport, she would eventually go away, maybe slip a note under the door. If it was Mr. Sampson from next door, he’d come back later. But if it was the building manager, and he needed to check something in the apartment, and Honey didn’t answer, there was a good chance that he’d just come barreling through the d
oor.

  “I’ve got to answer it.” Honey jumped up and grabbed her shirt.

  Judith hadn’t thought the whole thing out. She hadn’t planned for that third party. It’s one thing to make a scene with your own husband, in the privacy of your home, where one doesn’t have to worry about protocol and bad manners. But to be greeted by a puzzled young woman, a child really, and one who clearly was in an advanced stage of undress; that was truly daunting. What was the appropriate response? How did one express oneself correctly and with dignity yet still get the message across?

  The girl stood in the doorway, frozen in panic and fear. Judith could see August fumbling with his pants over by the sofa. She could also see her vase there on the table.

  “Excuse me,” Judith said. “I’m Mrs. August Wentworth. Is my husband here, by any chance?”

  The girl looked over her shoulder towards August, as if he could save her from this moment.

  “I’m coming, Judith.” August walked to the door.

  “My vase,” Judith said.

  The girl had backed into the room and was hovering over by the TV. August walked over to the table and picked up the vase.

  “Leave the flowers,” Judith said. She didn’t want those things in her house. Lilies were ruined forever.

  August carefully lifted the flowers out of the vase and handed them to the girl then carried the vase to the door.

  “Do you have a key?” Judith said.

  August reached into his pocket, pulled out a single key and handed it to her.

  “Not to me, you fool,” Judith said.

  August turned and offered the key to the girl. She walked over and took it out of his hands.

  “Young lady,” Judith said. “You will never see my husband again.” She pulled August out the front door, closed it, then led him forcefully down the stairs, away from the apartment building.

  22

  It’s Time to Give Honey Her Break!

  Jack was feeling good. He was well rested and completely over the flu. Time to make a move. Now or never. He’d been driving around for a while, looking for a parking spot. It was impossible in this neighborhood. Then Jack saw an elderly man climb into a shiny black Bentley and start the engine. Excellent, right in front of Honey’s building, the stars were definitely in alignment today. The old guy went back and forth a few times trying unsuccessfully to maneuver his big boat of a car. There was plenty of room but depth perception and agility must diminish with age, poor guy. Jack considered getting out and helping the old fellow but he finally got the nose of the car pointed in the right direction and drove away. Jack didn’t know how much one those Bentleys cost but he figured he could probably live comfortably for a good five years off the price tag. He quickly pulled his truck into position and parked.

  The knock on the door was shy, tentative. Did Gus somehow sneak back? Doubtful. Gus hadn’t been exaggerating; Judith Wentworth was the scariest woman Honey had ever seen. That look. That voice. There was no doubt in Honey’s mind that Judith could erase her very existence in the mere blink of a well made-up eye. She was not going to let that husband of hers out of her sight.

  Honey had just finished cutting the top off a half-gallon carton of milk to make a vase for the flowers. They looked stupid but she didn’t want to throw them away. The flowers were pretty and maybe the last nice thing she would have for a long, long time. She had no money and the job at the diner was not enough to pay the bills. Gus had been her only hope. The knock came again, this time more insistent. Honey put the flowers on the table and went to answer the door.

  Jack tucked his faded work shirt into his jeans. He ran his fingers through his hair to make it stand up all wild the way Honey used to like it. He couldn’t let himself think about how it would be when she opened the door. He wouldn’t even allow himself a plan. He’d knocked and now, if she was home, he’d take whatever she wanted to give him.

  Honey opened the door. He stood there, exactly as she’d been picturing him for all these years. His tanned face was harder, leaner than before but somehow more handsome. And those eyes, could they be any bluer? He smiled but Honey couldn’t move. Was this real? Was Jack Belmont really standing in front of her or was she just making it up? Honey had seen a show on the TV where victims of trauma sometime hallucinate alternative realities in order to escape their current situation. Had Judith Wentworth thrown Honey into a waking dream starring Jack Belmont?

  “Honey?”

  He spoke. Honey couldn’t remember from the show if the hallucinations could actually talk.

  “It’s me, Jack.”

  He wasn’t saying anything too complicated, surely her wounded brain could come up with a basic greeting. There was only one solution here. She had to touch him. She had to find out if Jack Belmont was real. Honey reached towards him. She fully expected her hand to pass right on through this beautiful mirage of a man but it was stopped by his iron-hard stomach. She looked in his eyes and he smiled again. She brought her other hand to his chest, feeling his warmth through his shirt, the tightness of his muscle, then she wrapped her arms around him as he pulled her close and bent to kiss her. It was like the first time, all over again.

  “I’m sorry, Honey.” Jack kissed her neck then pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes. He reached up and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I fucked up.”

  23

  Judith and August—A New Beginning

  Judith drove home with both hands on the wheel. She was careful to observe the speed limit: 25 mph residential, 30 once she got to the commercial area. As she drove she realized that while she lived in a huge metropolitan city, it might as well have been a small town because she rarely ventured outside of her insulated community. Really, there wasn’t any reason to leave the neighborhood. Everything she needed, all the necessities and luxuries, was within a five-mile radius. These different areas, the less fortunate environs, seemed foreign to her and may as well have been in another state all together. Santa Monica, Culver City, Mar Vista, Beverlywood, they had absolutely nothing to do with Judith’s day-to-day existence and made her feel somewhat ill at ease. But she relaxed as she finally pulled onto Sunset, the street that would deliver her home.

  August was back there in traffic somewhere. She hadn’t bothered to wait for him. She needed this time to figure out exactly how she was feeling, what she wanted to do. That scene had been a terrible ordeal. Dreadful. Absolutely humiliating, something from which a weaker person might never recover. But Judith was nothing if not strong, very few things in life that Judith Wentworth couldn’t handle. Still, there was no denying that this was one of those pivotal moments.

  Exhausted. That’s how August felt when he finally got his car out of the tight parking spot in front of Honey’s apartment and headed towards home. He wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep. There would be hell to pay with Judith, she would probably punish him for years. He would like to sleep through that. He was tired, tired of trying to prove he was a man, tired of worrying about his ability in the bedroom, tired of sneaking around. He just wanted to go home and crawl into his bed.

  Judith pulled her car into the garage and turned off the engine. She had to decide, right now, what it was she wanted. Of course August would have to pay for this ridiculous escapade but the question was, how much? She could throw him out. When he pulled into the garage, she could order him upstairs to his room and tell him he had exactly thirty minutes to pack his bags. She could call the locksmith and have the house re-keyed, change the code on the alarm. Yes, with very little effort she could banish her husband and start a life free of August Wentworth and his shameful behaviors. Is that what Judith wanted? To go through with some sort of nasty divorce? It would be in the papers, of course, all that money, the Wentworth name. It would be the number one topic of conversation at all the dinner parties across this city for years to come. August and Judith Wentworth, divorcing after forty-five years of marriage. August and his serial infidelities. Poor Judith. She would have to give up h
er membership at the club. It would simply be too awkward for them both to belong, socialize at the same place. The Lloyds had attempted that and poor Lillian was humiliated when Bernard started dating Elise Stone. No, Judith would have to leave the country club forever. And what about their friends? Who would side with whom? Judith knew the answer, everyone would side with August. He was the source of all this wealth, the power. When in doubt, people always went with the money. That would leave Judith volunteering at various charitable organizations around the city with all the other divorced women in Los Angeles. She had no illusions, women her age did-n’t find love again. Even with money, there were just too many sweet young things waiting to swoop down on men like her husband. Did Judith really want to walk this earth alone for the rest of her days? No, that was definitely not the life that Judith Wentworth had signed on for.

  “You’re not to do that, ever again.”

  “No.”

  “Ever.”

  “I swear.”

  “And you’ll stop drinking.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “We’ll get Dr. Stern to help. Or Dr. Thompson. They’ve got pills for it, I think.”

  “All right.”

  “Did you put the vase back?”

  “Right where I got it.”