Chapter 5
Jake
Every bone in his body wanted to call the cops or pack all of his shit and take off for Mexico. He couldn’t decide which was a smarter—or dumber—move, so he opened up his golf app and picked the most challenging course in the game in an attempt to keep him from doing either.
It didn’t work. If anything, the looming fear of prison caused every hit to shank right and his putts to overshoot their marks. Worse off, Ray’s guy hadn’t responded to any of the messages he’d sent him, which was only convincing Jake further that the man had taken Rachel and was too busy with that herculean task of disposing of her body to reply.
There was the clop of shoes up the circular staircase, and his heart leaped for the briefest of moments that it might be Rachel. That idea died faster than his last drive as her best friend ambled through the bedroom and into the bathroom area.
Jules was in yoga pants and an oversize panda sweatshirt, and as always, Jules looked calm and in control, and seeing her serene face immediately alleviated about half of his fears. She was here. She was here and she would take care of it, and unlike Rachel, who took control by nitpicking all thethings he’d done wrong, Jules would listen and support him and they’d find a solution together, one that respected his opinions and decisions as facts.
“It’s in here,” he said, gesturing to the bathroom and stepping out of the way.
She breezed by him, and his anxiety took a hiatus as he appreciated the cling of her yoga pants on her wide hips and generous ass. He loved the shudder and shake of her body as he let loose on it, and she was vocal too. Not like Rachel, who kept all her pleasure contained, barely squeaking as they made love. No, Jules was a bellower. At Christmas, he’d had to stuff his tie in her mouth and hold his hand over it while he took her on the back stairs.
“Jake!” Jules snapped out his name from inside the bathroom, and he hurried forward to find her standing by the entrance to the steam shower, Rachel’s phone in hand. “What’s her code?”
“I don’t know. Maybe her birthday? March eighth, 0308?”
“Nope.” Jules pecked at the screen with short dark-purple nails. “You know the last four digits of her social?”
“Ah, no.”
“Damn, Jake. Not much help here.” She looked up from the phone. “Okay, whatdowe know? When’s the last time you saw her?”
“Uh, last night. We had pizza and watched the Giants game.”
“Did you guys fight? Anything odd happen?”
“Nah, a normal night.” Which was a lie because it had actually been a great night. Rachel had ordered in three pizzas and wings, plus the brownie thing, which she always said was too many calories that they didn’t need. She’d had a six-pack of beer on ice and had worn this sexy little tank top without a bra and some short sleep shorts with a lace thong on. Andin the seventh inning, she’d pushed the pizza boxes to the side and straddled him on the couch, and they’d had sex, right there in the living room with the game on the big screen behind them. Rachel never did shit like that.Theynever did shit like that, but they had last night, and it had been awesome.
“So nothing strange?”
“No. But look here.” He pointed to the bloody handprint, then the counter. She examined both with the intensity of a forensic tech, then turned that laser focus on him.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I don’t know.” He raked both hands through his hair. “This is bad, right? I mean, what if the cops come here? I guess they need to come here, right? I should call them?” His chest burned, and maybe this was what a heart attack felt like. That would be his luck, to die on the same day Rachel did, and have her trust fund go to some freaking children’s charity or one-eyed-dog relief fund. His breath wheezed out of him, and he opened up his countertop’s center drawer, looking for his inhaler.
Jules held up both palms. “Okay, sweetie, you need to calm down. Listen to me. Listen. Calm down.” She moved closer, putting her hands on his chest, and held his gaze, breathing in deeply, then exhaling. “Come on. Breathe with me.”
He did, and it did feel better, getting more oxygen. He repeated the action, and when she rose on her toes and pressed her lips against his, he stopped thinking about breathing or about Rachel and started thinking about sex.
That, right there, was his favorite thing about Jules. While Rachel had to be in the mood, or fresh from a shower, or not on her period, or one of nine different combinations of things—Jules was always down and always interested. She had beenfrom day one, when Rachel had brought him along to Jules’s baby shower so he could hang a balloon banner. Jake had been on the ladder, his arms stretched up above his head, a blue balloon cluster in hand, when Jules had wandered in, her belly huge with pregnancy, and walked up to him. She’d introduced herself, then—without even asking—unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick.
She’d been eight months pregnant, with feet swollen like a pork shoulder, but her mouth had worked just fine. More than fine. It had taken Jake less than two minutes, and that had been despite the muffled sounds of Rachel barking out orders to the caterers, just two rooms over.
Chapter 6
Rachel
My anger at Jake’s incompetence and lack of concern turned a new corner as I watched, befuddled, as he kissed my best friend, then put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her onto her knees.
As confused as I was about Jake’s insane action, I was even more so by Jules’s reaction. As my sandwich hung limp and forgotten from my hand, she seemed almost enthusiastic about the change in elevation, her hands dropping to his belt and undoing the thick leather strap.
Then the joining of the two, and the image of her mouth expertly working on him, his hand gripping her hair, hurt worse than anything I had experienced in recent years. This wasn’t traitorous; this was cruel, and clearly not the first time it had occurred. How long had they been together? How stupid of a wife and a friend had I been?
I’d felt neglected and ignored by my husband ... but this was so much worse. Today was supposed to be the turning point in my marriage. After discovering the bathroom scene, he was supposed to search the house for me, discover my purse in the kitchen, the journal inside, filled with entries where I detailed how much I loved him and missed ourconnection, pages and pages where I recapped all of our best memories, to trigger those same emotions in him.
