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Chapter 11

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We managed to get through another day without an argument. That’s because I kept quiet and we had the children between us to keep us civil, and because I didn’t ask Mr. Black anything about sexual asphyxiation. Why would he mention this to me in bed if this wasn’t his intention all along? Was this a new game he wanted me to play with him? A very dangerous game from what I’ve read.

After we sit and eat breakfast, Max watches me as if he wants to ask about my week. He wants to engage me in small talk, but he doesn’t want to anger me further.

During breakfast I come close to telling him about what Jonas and I have been up to. Been up to sounds a bit mild, as if we are two children, and our mothers ask, “What have you two been up to today?”

I could say, “Oh, we disposed of a dead body.” Playing it over in my mind gives me an eerie feeling. At the time it is happening, my thought process has completely shut down. We have both reacted to a situation like we are two children whose parents have scolded us about eating too much candy, and we’ve decided to hide it so as not to experience our parents’ wrath, which would be to take the candy from us.

This is much different than hiding candy. In the case of hiding a dead body, we would have our freedom and our family taken from us.

Max sits long enough to feed Jackson, our youngest. I didn’t think he would be so patient and loving with his boys. But those are my bewildering thoughts. I have no foundation for thinking that. I just know that you never know about anyone. Look at me. Max would never suspect that I have time to get involved in his brother’s schemes, and come up with an idea to get rid of a body.

I look like a regular mother and wife, but I am no regular mother and wife. I have spent my night tying my husband to the bed, and the night before when I should be feeding and playing with my children, I am out helping to hide a body and allowing another man to seduce me. 

A smile crosses my lips as I watch as Max talks and plays with Maxim, crawling on the floor with Maxim on his back, and he promising him that he will buy him a horse when we return to our ranch in Montana. After Max feeds Jack, he turns to me. “He’s getting too big for a bassinet. He should be in a crib.”

“Just one more week. I don’t want something to happen to him in a crib. If a child isn’t old enough they could put their heads through one of the openings,” I say to him.

“I’ll have one specially made. You don’t have to buy one in the store.” I know Max can get whatever he wants, but I’ve selected everything for Jack because I didn’t have that luxury before to do that for Maxim. Max didn’t find out about Maxim until he was five years old, and that hurt him and drove a wedge between us. We have tried to close a gap in our relationship, one we’ve created, but it appears there is something else that is causing a break.

I stare at Max, then gaze into my cup of coffee. “Anything wrong, Alex?” His voice is quiet. His tone is appeasing. I don’t answer.

How can I ever consider leaving Max. Where will I find someone the likes of him? Handsome, rich, sexy, and a great father.

I know he wants to be a loving husband, but when does he have the time? Now he’s trying to prove to me that he can be all these things I want. But I may have fucked that up forever with his deranged unhinged beautiful loving brother.

I wonder if I will still hold a loving and caring feeling for Max if I discover he has had something to do with Miranda’s death. Again I try to understand the kind of man before me. The kind of man I’ve married. What does that say about me? I wonder what he will think of me if he finds out about Robert, and me being mixed up with Jonas.

Maybe I’m too young to be involved with the Blackstone Twins. Maybe I should have held out longer until I knew more about them. All the maybes in the world won’t take me back where I can start over again. The question is would I do the same thing over again? I have no answer to that.

Lapita comes in and offers to take the children and dog to the park. They beg me to go. I say no, but Max overrides me.

When everyone is gone, and there’s only me and Max together, he glances over at me, and touches my hand. An uneven current rushes through me, and I know if I don’t resist him, he could have me, persuading me to do the unspeakable with him.

“I’m not in the mood, Max.” He doesn’t say anything, he just continues reading the paper. He has picked up the same paper I have previously read the day before about Miranda, and there’s no expression on his face. Can he hide his emotions that well?

Max glances my way. “Have you read the papers?” Instinctively I say no. “I’m going to take this paper with me. If you don’t mind?”

“No. Take it. When will you be back?” I ask him.

“I have to stop at my office, and when I return tomorrow, I’ll have good news.” I rush over to Max and sit on his lap, and wrap my arms around his neck. I want to get as far away from New York and New Jersey as possible and as soon as possible. I feel his hard manhood protruding and vibrating under me. He smiles at me.

“See how much I want and need you,” he says with a closed smile and those dimples I love so much. “I’ll try to get back as soon as possible. We have a lot to talk about.”

You bet we do, honey. I’m thinking.

“If Jonas comes out from under his rock, tell him I have to have a serious talk with him. It’s important.”

I pull my hands away and I twist my hands. I want to bite my nails. I’m nervous. “What about?” My voice is weak. I kiss Max’s neck because I don’t want him to see my face, to see my eyes. I’m numb and I can’t feel anything now. I can’t feel the warmth and desire Max has for me. I can’t feel his hands tighten around my waist and his one hand crawling up my dress.

“Nothing you should concern yourself about.” The buzzer rings from security and my stomach tightens. The doorman informs Max that his driver is waiting for him, and he’s off after giving me a kiss, and passing his hand under my dress, into my panties, between my folds with his finger poised at my entrance, and me squirming in his hand. “I want that when I get back, and I’m not taking no,” he says smiling.

Letting go of an indrawn breath of relief, and time to get my mind together on how to deal with all the shit I’ve got myself into, I have one thought. Melody. I need to call her. 

I have been putting off talking to Melody. She has called several times and texted me once, but life got in the way. Miranda, Jonas, Robert, and Max got in the way. However, I have promised her that I will keep in touch. Now I have a motive for calling her.

Retrieving my phone from my bedside table, I find her number. “Yes. That’s it,” I assure myself.

“Melody. This is Alex Blackstone.”

“Alex. I’m glad to hear from you. What have you been doing lately? Oh, don’t make me guess. You and that handsome sexy husband of yours have been holed up in bed doing who knows what to each other. He looks so sexy and deviously kinky. Don’t tell me. He ties you up at night and has his way with you.”

She squeaks out a laugh. Her thoughts flow freely without thinking, and she says anything that comes to her mind. She doesn’t realize how true her words are.

“Melody. I didn’t call you to discuss my sex life with my husband. And if we did anything like that, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.” My tone is light.

“Believe me, if I had a man like yours, who is good looking and rich, I wouldn’t want to discuss him either with man or woman. I just thought you would like to give me some pointers. Hell, I’m rich, but I could always use a good-looking man. If just to gaze into his pretty face as he fucks me hard. I’m tired of looking at all those trolls I find hanging around me for my money.”

“Melody, can we meet somewhere and talk? But not about my husband or love life.” I hear her exhale on the phone. She’s all about gossip. Any kind. It appears it’s a family trait, because of how she describes her mother.

“I have classes until six thirty this evening, but after that, I can meet you at that café I brought you to when we first met.”

“I’ll be there at six forty-five or seven this evening.” Satisfied, I shut off my phone, and take time to relax. I still feel sore and need to utilize our home gym, but I can’t bear any more exercise or endure any more pain.

Just when I think I can unwind, the elevator door buzzes. “Max?” I shout without getting up to see who is coming in. “What’s wrong?” I murmur. I jump up from the bed. I’m in the first-floor bedroom. I think maybe Max has forgotten something. When I saunter to the foyer and the double doors open, in walks Jonas. I have just seen Max dressed in his dark-blue suit. No doubt it’s Jonas.

Max and I are the few people who know the difference. Max for obvious reasons. Me because I knew what to look for. Jonas had impersonated Max so often that he can fall into his speech and cadence if he so desires. Jonas has even started to dress like Max, which he has done before on many occasions when he impersonates Max around San Francisco and Seattle.

But it is something about Jonas’s face that has become a tell-tale sign. Jonas has begun to get little worry lines near his eyes. The lines are discernable when he laughs and since he has been in New York he laughs less and less. 

Jonas strides into the living room with his clothes wrinkled, and his black leather jacket covered in dirt. His appearance is that of someone who has been up all night digging a grave.

“Why didn’t you go home, Jonas?” Jonas looks like a drowned rat. He stands there damp and his hair wet, slick down on his head, from the dew of the morning.

“You look terrible. Where have you been all night, Jonas?”

“I had to dig a grave.” Jonas gazes out as if he has seen a ghost and the ghost is in him.

“How did you get out there?” I try to remain calm. I stand and walk to Jonas and take his hands. I’m standing facing Jonas. His green eyes are dark, and he doesn’t blink. He’s gazing down looking at the floor, but not seeing anything. I take his face in my hand and tilt his face so I can see his eyes. Life comes to his eyes when they meet mine.

“Your friend, Brandon. I told him to get one of your cars and take me out there. You did say that I might need his assistance to get around. I assumed that you meant one of your cars. But I had to admit to him what we did.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Will this ever end with Jonas? I’m thinking. I know the answer to that, but I don’t want my anger and distaste for Jonas now to interfere with me asking him some questions.

“Why the hell did you get Brandon involved with this shit? Isn’t it enough that I have to live with this? What the fuck were you thinking?” I can’t breathe for feeling like drowning. Jonas stares at me. I continue my rant. “Do you know that Max could be involved, too?”

Looking at the expression on Jonas’s face I know I have said too much when his eyes focus and flip to me.

“Max? Max?” His eyes narrow and he tilts his head to the right, trying to understand what I am referring to. “What does Max know about Miranda’s death?”

“Nothing. Forget what I said, Jonas.”

“How can I forget something like that? He would never have any involvement with Miranda. He knew that she and I...” He stops. I don’t want to pursue the conversation. I have already found out more than I can handle.

“She worked for him for god’s sake, Jonas. Wake up.”

“You’re thinking he would kill that girl. He was the one who introduced me to her.” That backs up Robert’s story somewhat. “And he would never introduce another woman into your marriage.” That may be true, but he has already fallen off the wagon when it comes to our sex lives, and so have I, but it isn’t my fault. My fault is I’ve got caught up in misplaced emotions with Robert and misplaced loyalty with Jonas, and now that will end.

I watch as Jonas sinks back and down on a sofa, closing his eyes intermittently. 

He is dead tired and it doesn’t take too much persuasion for him to let the conversation about Max and Miranda die. Jonas slumps forward. My beautiful beige sofa now has an outline of Jonas’s mud-covered clothing. I rush to the liquor cabinet and pour him a small drink of Scotch. I have to get him out of sight and in bed before the children come home. 

Handing him the drink, I say, “You need to get out of those clothes.” I kneel and pull off his shoes and socks. He looks drained.

“What am I going to do without you and Max?” Jonas’s sad tone hovers and lingers with his desperation.

“You’re going to grow up, Jonas,” I say looking up at him, taking his shoes and socks in my hand after he kicks them off. “You have Crystal and a baby.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” he says as if he has forgotten.

Reaching for the glass I place near him, he takes one sip, and before I could say anymore, he is asleep.

I let him sleep there for fifteen minutes, and then I shake him by his shoulders. “Jonas,” I whisper into his ear. I have to get him into one of the bedrooms. Now I have become an expert at hiding bodies and bad news.

Giving Jonas a small tap on his cheek, he doesn’t wake. I try pulling his arms and he won’t move an inch. I have to get him out of the living room before the children tell their father about Jonas.

There is nothing else for me to do, but give him a hard slap, and I do, and his eyes open and now I have his attention.

Jonas sits up with a groan, holding the spot on his face that I’ve slapped a little too hard. “You didn’t have to do that, Alex?” He glances at me like a little child whose mother has scolded him when he has been bad, and threatened to take away his favorite toys, and no supper if he doesn’t behave.

“Come on get up from there, Lapita and my children will be home any minute.” He smiles when I speak of the children. I try to help him up, but who am I kidding. He’s six three and all muscle. A woman’s dream if she is just looking for eye candy and nothing else.

The children and Lapita come in shortly after I have put Jonas to bed. After tending to the children, and taking one more peek at Jonas sleeping peacefully, I head to the café to see Melody and try to get some information on this whole tragic situation.