Paige drove across the gravel parking lot and stopped in front of the room she’d reserved early yesterday. This wasn’t the best motel she’d ever seen, and it certainly wasn’t located on the best side of town, but it was perfect for what she was conspiring. For two full days and two full nights, she’d seriously considered a few different ideas, so that she wouldn’t have to go this far, but she hadn’t seen where she had any other choice—not when she’d already endured a full-fledged beating from Derrick and then deceived Covington Park Police Department personnel regarding her rape. She’d gone to what she thought was the extreme, but it still hadn’t worked. She’d even caused a temporary separation between Camille and Pierce, flown nearly two thousand miles across the country, and slept with him, but her sister and brother-in-law had found their way back to each other like nothing had happened. So on this occasion, Paige decided it was time she gave Pierce the proof he needed, the kind he could see with his own eyes.
Paige stepped outside of the vehicle, closed the door, and walked around to where Camille was sitting.
“Hey sis,” she said, shaking her. “Wake up.”
But Camille didn’t move.
Now Paige wished she’d only given her two pills instead of three, because she seemed nearly unconscious. She shook her again with all her might, and when Camille moaned and slightly moved her head and body, Paige beckoned for the tall man to come and help her. Thankfully, it was dark outside and the room was on the far end toward the back, because she would never want anyone to see what she and her new friend, Leonard, were up to. That was the man’s name—the homeless man she’d found wandering about yesterday when she’d driven out here to case the place. He’d looked like a natural bum and like he hadn’t bathed in months, but Paige had struck up a conversation with him and asked if he wanted to make a hundred dollars. He’d hurried and said yes, so Paige had rented the room they were now escorting Camille into, so she could help clean him up. Then, when Paige had returned from the nearest Target, purchasing several kinds of toiletries, he’d showered, shaved, and eaten the food she’d brought him. Shortly after that, she’d run to Macy’s and charged a pair of black dress pants, a white- and black-striped button-down shirt, and a package of Jockey underwear on her credit card. It had all been worth it, too, because the new Leonard looked like a million bucks and very much like the kind of man Camille would consort with—he looked like William, the fictitious man Pierce thought she’d had an affair with.
“Help me get her into bed,” Paige told him, and they gently laid her on her back. The print bedspread was already turned down, so Paige removed Camille’s shoes and jeans and pulled her thick off-white V-neck sweater over her head.
“Where am I?” she asked in a groggy tone.
“You’re home, sweetie,” Paige said.
“I’m…so…tired,” she said, dozing off again.
“So, who exactly is this nice lady?” Leonard wanted to know.
“No one important,” Paige said.
“Well, you must really hate her.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Okay, just so I’m sure,” he said, changing the subject. “All I have to do is sit here and wait for her husband to show up and then say, ‘I’m William’?”
“Yep.”
“And then what?”
“Well, for one thing, her husband will be pretty upset to find her at a motel with another man, so that’s when you’ll tell him you’re sorry and that you think it’s best for you to leave. Oh, and when you let him in, I want you to have your shirt open.”
Leonard unbuttoned it right then. “This man isn’t going to be so angry that he’ll want to tear my head off, will he?”
“It’s possible, but all you have to do is run, and I’ll be waiting down the street for you.”
“Whoaaa, now wait. If I’m gonna have to get my tail kicked, then that’s gonna cost you another hundred.”
“Excuse me?”
“Another hundred or I walk.”
Paige laughed and grabbed her purse. “You drive a hard bargain, Leonard.”
“Hey, I just wanna be paid.”
“I hear you.”
Camille moved her head to the side and slightly turned her body but never woke up.
“Okay,” Paige said. “I’m out of here.”
“How long do you think it’ll be?”
“Less than an hour.”
“Also,” Leonard said when she opened the door, “what’s your name?”
“Trish.”
“Oh. Well, nice doin’ business with you, Trish.”
“Same here, and I’ll see you in a little while.”
Paige walked a quarter of a mile from the motel, got into a rental car, and dialed Pierce. He answered in a huff.
“Paige, didn’t I ask you not to call me anymore?”
“I know, but this is important, and it’ll only take a few minutes.”
“What?” he yelled.
“It’s Camille.”
“What about Camille?”
“When she dropped me off at home, she went to meet that William guy.”
“Oh, Paige, please stop it.”
“I’m telling you the truth. I knew the only way you’d believe me was if I had proof, so I hired a private investigator to follow her. And he just called me.”
“I just spoke with Camille a little over an hour ago, so you’re lying.”
“Then why isn’t she home yet?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. She’s at a motel,” Paige said and gave him the address and room number.
“You’d better not be lying to me.”
“I’m not, and I’m only doing this because I love you, Pierce. I told you I would do anything for you, and I meant it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he said.
Paige knew he’d hung up on her, but this time she didn’t care, because once he saw his perfect little wife shacked up in some shabby motel room with her lover, he’d practically come crawling to Paige, thanking her and begging her to forgive him. Camille was finally getting what she deserved, and Paige wanted to get out of the car and scream to the heavens—she wanted to thank God for all that was happening. He’d taken an excessively long time answering her prayers, but what mattered was that He had in fact come through for her. He’d finally given her what she’d asked for, and she was satisfied.