Part 17 (1/2)

That got Octavia to her feet. She was almost as tall as Carl. With lungs full of air, she was imposing-a supervillainess. ”You don't go until I say you go. We've got a lot to talk about tonight. And either we do it now, or Pamela here starts filing motions for Mick before you even get out the front door.”

We all looked at Pamela. She waved her Blackberry. ”Oh yeah, it's easy.”

Carl said, ”She's better than my guys? You think so? f.u.c.k, Mick, they've been waiting for this. Begging.”

I shrugged. ”Sorry, Carl.”

Octavia stepped behind Carl and patted his shoulder while speaking very close and calmly in his ear. ”Yes, Pamela is better than your guys because I'm better than your guys, and I have more money than you. Lots more. You know how tobacco companies squash all the lawsuits brought against them by throwing money at lawyers and paperwork? I'm a smaller scale version of that, and still one thousand times more powerful than you, your tiny c.o.c.k, Mick's itchy c.u.n.t of a wife, and any lawyer you throw in my path. We will win.”

Carl had gone pale. Maybe he was allergic to the food, but I didn't think so. I think she had gotten to him.

Then she twisted the knife. ”Maybe you didn't catch it, but Frances is not going through all this because she loves you. She's doing it to protect herself from you. Once the house belongs to her, that's what she's worth. Beholden to no man, not even one trying to blackmail her. Especially since we already know you'd never do it, not with what she's got on you.”

Carl cleared his throat. Eyes tired but unblinking, straight ahead.

Stephanie leaned towards me. ”This is fun, right?”

I nodded.

”Then why do I feel so bad for him?”

”Octavia has a way of making justice feel creepy. She can't help it.”

”But you've really done it, right? This will all be over after tonight?”

I laced my fingers in hers. ”Absolutely.”

Octavia resumed her place at the head of the table, still standing, and said, ”Since some people don't know how to conduct themselves at dinner, I suggest we all make our way to the study for the remainder of the evening. Jennings, please pa.s.s along my apologies to Harriet. I don't think we'll be finis.h.i.+ng the meal tonight.”

He nodded and exited through the door into the kitchen. The rest of us stood and ambled down the familiar hall of horror until we were once again in the study, but this time there were more chairs awaiting us. Either Jennings or Harriet must have set them out, or maybe Octavia had hidden ghostly servants at her beck and call-condemned souls serving penance. Maybe there was a poem in that. I tried to think of opening lines as Stephanie leaned into me. I automatically put my arm around her, then thought better of it in front of Frances, who still held the power between us, as far as she knew. Knowing what I knew, it was still hard believing she didn't have an inkling. A b.l.o.o.d.y, obscene ambush, only moments away.

EIGHTEEN.

While everyone was settling in the chairs around Octavia's desk, Stephanie led me away from the others. We stood near the back of the room where no one could hear us clearly.

She said, ”Mick, really, I've appreciated your friends.h.i.+p these past couple of days. And I won't lie to you. I do feel something...intense between us. I like you. I want to spend more time with you.”

”But?”

She grinned shyly. ”Yeah, there's always a 'but'. It's not that I don't love Ashton. I really do, but we lost something in all this. I'm not sure if we can get it back, but I would like to try. And being with you...that's complicated. You feel that, right?”

”I don't mind complicated.”

”Yes you do. That's what all, all, this is about.” She held her arms out like presenting a prize on The Price is Right. ”It's all about things getting too complicated, and you're falling apart. I'm not even sure you're all that mad at Fran.”

”Please, Steph.”

”Just listen, okay? I'm going to stay married until we don't feel it anymore. And you, you need some time alone to make sure this never happens to you again. I mean it in a good way. Fran's f.u.c.ked you up.”

She was right. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but she was plenty right. I shrugged and raised my eyebrows at her.

”Please don't make this any harder.”

I said, ”Okay, that's fine. I can respect that.”

She ran her fingers up and down my arm. ”Do more than respect it. Believe it, okay?”

I didn't get to answer because Jennings had arrived, asking if we'd like a drink. I was so amped at that point, my heart like a jackhammer, that I asked for a Vodka martini, the coldest thing I could think of. Stephanie said she was fine. Everyone else had taken seats, so we took ours off to the far left and waited. Octavia must've taken a short detour. Chatter, chatter, everyone chattering. But all I could think about was how at the end of this night, I was probably going home-to my house-alone, reviled, and avenged. Also, sad.

The chatter subsided and I looked up to see Octavia's grand entrance, old Hollywood glamour, as she first ran her hand along Alice's back and shoulder before taking a seat behind the monstrous desk. I also noticed that the light for her speaker phone was on. I started to say something, as if perhaps she didn't notice. I doubted that. She wanted someone outside of this house to hear what was going on. Nice back-up plan. Maybe. Depended on who was listening.

Even the people in the room who had every reason to hate and fear her couldn't help but give her their full attention. She had an authority earned by the same personality that had offended and bruised so many. All these years I had wondered at that, how she commanded attention despite our society's disdain for her size and nastiness. The same nastiness afforded models and high-powered editors and movie starlets with barely a wink played as ”skunky” when Octavia paraded it. As if it was perfectly allowable for the powerful and gorgeous to say, ”You, obese woman, play nice if you even want our sc.r.a.ps.”

That Octavia wouldn't be the wealthy, powerful b.i.t.c.h she had turned into. No, that other Octavia would have been more miserable than this one, but no one would have given her a second glance. She wouldn't have mattered.

Seeing her like this-in charge and changing lives-made me want to applaud for her. Yes! Go get 'em! Show them your b.a.l.l.s.

I was only sobered by the thought that the life she was changing most of all, irrevocably and forcefully, was mine.

Octavia took a slow, sweeping look at all her guests, obviously soaking up all of the attention, before saying, ”Now. Business. Are we all clear as to why we are here?”

Everyone of us glanced at other faces, waiting for someone to ask. Wis.h.i.+ng someone would. It was Dan Moose who finally said, ”I'm pretty f.u.c.king confused.”

Octavia motioned at Frances. ”Are you acquainted with Mrs. Thooft?”

Frances started to correct her, a sharp breath and raised fingers, since she'd never taken my name, but then thought better of it. Hand back to her lap, where the other hand picked viciously at her cuticles.

Moose shrugged. ”Not...exactly. I've seen her. On film.”

Frannie's ears went red. Neck tight. She slid away from the Provost, as far as possible in her chair, but there wasn't anywhere to go. Yes, she hadn't exactly had it confirmed in such an obvious way, I supposed, that her extra-curriculars had been as exposed as any others. Maybe an inkling, but she had repressed that. But now, in public, in front of Octavia, for G.o.d's sake.

”Mr. Moose, if you don't mind, how did you see her on film exactly?”

He s.h.i.+fted, looked down. ”I cataloged and digitized the tapes of Carl's swinger parties.”

”And how much did he pay you for this service?”

”Well...” Another s.h.i.+ft, finally got the nerve to look at Octavia. ”I was already in computer services at the college, so he said there was a, um, special a.s.signment. I mean, we'd talked on and off, and somehow got to talking about p.o.r.n sites. He gave me a few tips. He asked about, you know, making sure his wife didn't find out. So when he brought me into this-”

”Brought you in?” Carl laughed. ”You jumped in, pal.”

”Oh, right, like you didn't set it all up. I mean, the first tape you showed me was your wife, for f.u.c.k's sake. Asked if I'd like a piece-”

”Hey!” Finger pointed. ”I will f.u.c.k you up if you say-”

Octavia slammed her hands on her desk. ”Gentlemen! My rules!”