Roman Crazy Read Free

my drink. “Can I get you something?”
    She sniffed a bit, looking down her long patrician nose at the stool, but in the end decided to actually take a seat. Settling onto it with a graceful air, she turned to me and Botox grinned. She must have just had an appointment. Everything south of her hairline was stiff, smooth, and unmoving. The sun streamed in from behind me, lighting up her neck, ears, and fingers.
    â€œHeading to the pawn shop?” I quipped, taking another sip. The bartender snorted loudly from her perch sliding wineglasses into the rack.
    Another crippling “grin.” “You know, I never much cared for your equivoque.”
    This. This right here. Equivoque. Who the hell used words like that? With that opening volley, however, I could tell it was one of those conversations. It reminded me of when we first met at Thanksgiving dinner my sophomore year at BU. I was so nervous. Crippled by anxiety because they were the Boston Remingtons and I was dating, and doing some decidedly dirty things with, their precious son. My family’s no slouch, don’t get me wrong, but it’s like comparing Mark Cuban with Bill Gates. There’s money and then there’s money .
    â€œYes, I’m sure Daniel was thinking of my equivoque as he was giving it to his secretary,” I answered back, just as haughtily.
    â€œI always forget how funny you think you are, Avery. Daniel always was fond of your sense of humor,” she said, wrapping her jewel-encrusted hand around the glass of chardonnay that appeared. Her expression told me she was singularly un amused by my quick wit.
    With a flick of the wrist, she dismissed the bartender, getting down to business.
    Displeasure tried—to no avail of course—to furrow her brow. Her brow may never move again. But it was clear she wasready to say what she came here to say. “Things happen in a marriage. In all marriages. It surprises me that you would take this to heart. To throw in the towel so quickly over something like this.”
    â€œSomething like this? You mean catching him with the secretary isn’t towel worthy in your world?” I asked incredulously.
    She took a sip of her chardonnay, looking around the room unconcernedly. We could have been discussing soufflé recipes for all the emotion she was showing. “It’s your world, too. Don’t forget that Remingtons don’t get divorced.”
    â€œBitsy, I’m not sure why you’ve come today, but I can assure you, if it has anything to do with taking Daniel back, I’m uninterested.”
    â€œI’ve come to explain a few things.” She shifted in her seat, tilting her body away from the prying eyes that were gathering.
    â€œDo you see this?” She pointed to her replica of the Heart of the Ocean around her neck. A ten-carat or more platinum, diamond, and Burmese sapphire necklace. “I received this from Daniel’s father.”
    â€œOkay?”
    â€œYou see, I received it after I found out that my husband’s tennis instructor was working on more than his serve.”
    Oh .
    Tucking her blond hair behind her ear, she revealed at least a three-carat diamond earring. “These were after the au pair was released from duty. Incidentally, she was sent back to London, where these were purchased.” She tittered, pleased with herself.
    Ticking off one ring at a time, she explained in her own way.
    Every bauble was an affair. Every gemstone the equivalent of hush money.
    A giant art deco Colombian emerald was thanks to an indiscretion in Las Vegas. A pavé diamond and white-gold swirl from a gaffe in Chicago. An impropriety in Paris resulted in a cushion-cut canary diamond.
    â€œPowerful men like Daniel and his father have needs, Avery.”
    I always hated the way she said my name. Hearing it sneered while discussing her husband’s womanizing was even worse.
    â€œThere are all kinds of women, Avery, all kinds.