The War of the Roses: The Children Page 11

  “I’m sleeping.”

  “It’s important,” he persisted.

  “Please, Josh. Leave me alone. I need my rest. I have an important day tomorrow.”

  She was immediately sorry she had anointed the day with such importance. Thankfully, he did not ask for an explanation.

  “I need to know about our finances, Victoria.”

  The idea barely penetrated.

  “Not now, Josh. Not now.”

  “It’s important.”

  “We’ll discuss it in the morning.”

  “It occurred to me suddenly. If something ever happened to you, I’d have to take over. I need to know, Victoria.”

  “Is that what you discussed with Evie? Nothing good ever comes of your time with her.”

  “We both know she’s hopeless with money, but it got me thinking. I don’t know a damned thing about our finances.”

  “That was your choice.”

  “I’m thinking of the kids. I was wrong.”

  “Tonight?”

  Her thoughts had returned to Tatum, the dilemma it posed, and how she had to cope with it.

  “My thoughts are elsewhere, Josh. Let me sleep.”

  “Okay then, but tomorrow….”

  “Of course, tomorrow.”

  She suffered silently through the night, her mind churning madly, far from their financial matters. She forced herself to confront the outer limits of her own vulnerability. She had actually gone biblical in her search for the right path to take, citing God’s injunction for Abraham to sacrifice his own beloved son Isaac. If Abraham had been a mother, she had reasoned, God would have had one bitch of a crisis on his hands. Not even God could induce a mother to sacrifice her son. She would have figured a way to save him, as Victoria was doing at that moment. She was, after all, keeping her thoughts in context, dealing with the devil himself.

  Finally, she slipped back into torpor. If Josh spoke again, she didn’t hear it.

  ***

  In the morning as she prepared breakfast, she noted that everyone looked pale. Questions were answered with grunts.

  “Remember what we talked about last night. Our financial situation.”

  “I remember.”

  “I want to have more responsibility about our finances, Victoria. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Too much, Josh? I welcome it. You should care about such things.”

  “Well then, I need to know where everything is.”

  “For years I begged you to participate. Now you want to know immediately.”

  Sour faced and grumpy, the children kissed their parents and went off to catch their respective school buses.

  “They both look angry,” Josh remarked.

  “Probably stayed up too late waiting for Daddy to come home.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You could have told me earlier about having dinner with your sister.”

  Above all, she needed some deflection, choosing the old standby, her annoyance with Evie and her relationship with her brother.

  “Not that again, Victoria. She needed to talk and I had to be there.”

  The deflection worked. The subject of Evie had a Pavlov’s dog effect. Josh always reacted to it in the same way.

  “Down to the last antique, is she? You want to know how to handle money and what did you do? Throw away your inheritance on a glutton.”

  Why am I doing this, Victoria asked herself, knowing her answer: to keep my mind off what I have to do.

  “No. No more,” she said. “I apologize, Josh. I’m very edgy this morning. Forgive me.”

  “Could we go over it now?” Josh asked. “The finances.”

  “Now? This minute?”

  “I want to know.”

  She noted that his look was determined.

  “It’s all in the computer,” she said. “All our investments down to the last penny.”

  “Well then, show me.”

  “Not now, Josh, please. I have things to do.”

  “When then?”

  “Tonight. How about that? I promise. Actually, I’m really happy you want to get involved. You’re right. Something could happen to me. Then where will you and the children be?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Tonight, okay?”

  She kissed him on the lips and headed up the stairs. Finances were the farthest thing from her mind. She had to get dressed for the day’s main event. Even the details of dress had been carefully worked out. Tatum was, after all, an older man, nearly twenty years her senior. His looks, which were distinguished, even handsome, were hardly a saving grace. She was dealing with a version of the devil and her stomach was in knots.

  After showering carefully, she put on a plaid pleated skirt, high socks, loafers, a cashmere sweater, a discreet necklace, and not too much makeup. She then dabbed herself with her best perfume. Her outfit was a far cry from her workaday clothes.

  “You look like a kid,” Josh would say on the occasions when she wore the outfit she had chosen. “Turns me on.”

  “It’s only an illusion,” she would respond. “Probably feeds your Lolita fantasy.”

  “Are you wearing little white panties?”

  “See for yourself.”

  ***

  She drove to the specified parking lot, parked at the north end at five minutes to ten, and waited nervously in the car for Gordon Tatum to arrive. The north end of the lot, as she suspected, was deserted. It was meant to take the parking overload on busy days. The choice of place suggested that Tatum had either done his research well or used this area as a meeting place before. She did not delude herself into believing that she was Tatum’s first victim.

  Despite her nervousness, she did feel an odd thrill of sinful conspiracy. This was a totally unique experience, completely against the grain of everything she believed in. She had even worked out a mental state that might carry her through the process with the least amount of pain and humiliation. Relying on cunning and singleness of purpose, she was determined to steel herself against any outrage and indignity and transform herself into a mere spectator hanging in space, observing, listening. She saw herself now as the lioness who would fight to the death to protect her cub.

  His black Cadillac suddenly pulled up beside her SUV. He waved and smiled, and she stepped out of her car and entered his on the passenger side. She could feel his eyes studying her as she got in.

  “You look like a pretty Scottish lass,” he said as he maneuvered the car through the town streets, then headed onto the open road. She sat beside him demurely, legs together, hands clasped on her lap, her handbag on the floor between them.

  “Soon the buds will be bursting, Victoria. Don’t you just love spring in the country? Stirs the heart, doesn’t it?”

  He was, she noted, remarkably dignified and self-possessed, considering what she believed he had in mind. For a fleeting moment she wondered if she had misinterpreted his action.

  “Yes it does,” she replied, feigning interest. He was obviously a man used to an audience. When he spoke, he turned to face her, offering his benign smile and pleasant façade.

  He chattered on about spring as the Cadillac moved through secondary roads and country lanes. As they drove deeper into the wooded areas, he would occasionally touch her arm. Then with one free hand, he reached for hers. She had wondered how he would handle his opening gambit and here was her confirmation. His touch made her skin crawl.

  “The forsythia is always the first to bloom,” he said, stopping the car in a clearing beyond which was a meadow. Forsythia plants framed the periphery of the meadow. “Aren’t they gorgeous?” She wondered how many times he had been here with others.

  “Yes, they are.” No longer needing one of his hands for driving, he began to play with her hair. She offered no resis
tance. “Exactly where are we, Mr. Tatum?”

  At some point, she knew instinctively that subtlety would fade and he would have to become aggressive and blatant. She waited, expectant and prepared.

  “Mr. Tatum? Really, Victoria, I was hoping we had reached a higher level of intimacy.”

  “Gordon,” she said, pretending to observe the scenery. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been here before.”

  “One of my favorite spots, Victoria. Quite conducive, don’t you think?”

  “Conducive?”

  “To romance, Victoria.”

  “Oh, that.”

  He chuckled and turned to face her, smiling broadly, his expression that of a kindly father figure. He still held her hand while the other caressed her cheek. She forced herself to meet his gaze.

  “Seems an odd place to conduct school business.”

  His hand moved from her cheek to her chin, which he lifted gently.

  “Unique, yes. Odd, no. We can get to know each other better in this environment. It’s spring and you know what happens to a young man’s fancy in that season.”

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “It also happens to mature men,” he whispered.

  She remained silent. She felt herself beginning to perspire.

  “I love that outfit, Victoria. I am, after all, only human. It makes me forget propriety.”

  The hand that was caressing her chin now moved to her neck. Her body stiffened but she made no move to reject his advance. Suddenly her mother’s mantra echoed in her mind. Men cannot be trusted. They are liars and cheats. Here was proof positive.

  “We’re here to discuss Michael’s future,” she said cautiously. “You said you were going to take under advisement the issue of his expulsion.”

  “Exactly,” he said, turning his body. He began to caress her knee. The other hand finally reached her breast. A finger began to play with her nipple. Despite her disgust, she felt it harden. “You are a very exciting woman, Victoria.” He reached under her skirt and began stroking her thigh.

  “Have you reached your decision?” she asked suddenly, trying to ignore his touching, enduring her repulsion. She willed her body into the space above them. By now his hands were moving franticly up her thigh.

  “Not quite, Victoria. Not quite.”

  “What will it take, Gordon?”

  “A wee bit of cooperation, Victoria.”

  “You mean… this?” she asked, hoping she would sound slightly coquettish.

  His hands were working feverishly now.

  “I need to know your decision, Gordon. It’s very important to me.”

  “I think we are heading for an understanding, Victoria,” he said, his breath coming on the heels of little gasps of quickening excitement. Nor did she resist when his hand began caressing her crotch.

  “You will not expel him then?”

  “I’m leaning in that direction, Victoria.”

  He unzipped his pants and exposed himself. Her heart pounded. She tamped down a sudden wave of nausea. But she did have the presence of mind to open her handbag. She extracted some tissues and left it open.

  “Kiss my cock, Victoria.”

  She hadn’t expected the blatancy to come so soon and it took her by surprise. Her mental preparation had been severely inadequate. She could not bear to look at his erection. For a moment, she held back.

  “Please, Victoria, suck my cock.”

  She forced herself to ignore her profound sense of personal humiliation and shame. I am not me, she told herself. I am invisible. She pressed her lips against his flesh. Pig, she thought, forcing herself to speak.

  “I want more than an understanding, Gordon. I want your word that Michael will not be expelled.”

  “You have my word, Victoria.”

  “That he will not be expelled. Say it, Gordon.”

  “He will not be expelled,” he muttered. “Now get on with it, please. Blow me baby.” Stay focused, Victoria, she begged herself. Then she stopped abruptly and lifted her head.

  “Don’t stop please?”

  “Say it again, Gordon. No expulsion for Michael.”

  “No expulsion for Michael. I told you. For crying out loud, Victoria. Suck my cock.”

  She forced herself to concentrate on the mechanics of the deed. Tears filled her eyes. Get it over with, she shouted inside herself. It was the reason for her selfless sacrifice on the altar of his perfidy. She saw herself now as the woman before King Solomon, ready to deny her maternity to save the life of her baby. At that moment, over the void of five thousand years of history, she knew exactly what the woman must have felt. No sacrifice was too much to spare her child.

  “Jesus Victoria. I love it.”

  He began to groan.

  “I’m coming,” he cried. “Swallow. Swallow.”

  She wanted to vomit, faking it now, using the tissue. He put his head against the backrest and smiled.

  “God that was great, Victoria.”

  She turned away, wiping her tears, breathing deeply to chase her nausea. She remained silent for a long moment as he straightened his clothing.

  “That was something,” he murmured. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. The touch of his lips froze her flesh. “We have got to do this again.”

  “You mean on a regular basis?”

  “More or less,” he chuckled.

  “I just want to know what the deal is,” she pressed, her legal training kicking in.

  “A nice blow job once a week, say. Is that too much to ask?”

  “And my boy is never to be harassed again?”

  “Didn’t I give you my word?” he said, transforming himself again to his role of the dignified headmaster. Then without another word, he started the car and headed back to the parking lot.

  There was no more talk of the wonders of spring. She had the impression that he was no longer aware of her presence. What she needed now was to muster her courage, prepare herself for the denouement.

  “Have you any idea of what risks you’ve taken?” she asked him as they pulled into the parking lot. “You’ve extracted a sexual favor from me by threatening my son’s future.”

  “Now that is a bit dramatic, Victoria. We had consensual sex. Big deal.”

  “You’re not afraid of lawsuits? I’m a lawyer, remember? And what about the press?”

  “Why would you do that, Victoria?” He had tensed suddenly and his voice rose. “Why would you want to jeopardize the school, your son’s gateway to success? You’re not a fool, Victoria. What’s the bottom line here? Your child’s education. His future. Sure, I’ve put myself at risk. The fact is that I do trust your good judgment. I know people, Victoria. Where is the harm here? I’ve just done you an enormous service.” He smiled thinly. “I’ve bent the rules in favor of your child. I rarely have done that. I did it for you, Victoria. And I don’t make a habit of this.”

  “You mean I’m a special case.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. I’m very attracted to you. You should be flattered.”

  “God summons,” she snickered. “And I obey.”

  “You called me. You met me. You came for a ride with me. Really, Victoria. No one is the wiser. No one is hurt.” He shook his head. “Michael lied. In our school culture that is a capital offense. There are hundreds of parents who would do a lot more to get their kids into Pendleton. Come now. No conscience, please. Consider yourself lucky that I’ve agreed to keep Michael.”

  “I do,” she murmured. “I do.”

  “You see,” he said, laughing. “Victoria, as we agreed, say this time next week.” He bent over and kissed her again on the cheek. “Please, no more nonsense.” She marveled at his cool self-confidence.

  She got out of the car and fished in her handbag. Then she moved to the driver’s side and asked
that he lower the window. At that point she removed the small recorder she had placed inside, fiddled with it, praying that its technology had not let her down. Earlier, she had tested and retested the device.

  “What’s that?” he asked, confused. Then it hit him. “You didn’t.”

  She pressed the play button, relieved to find that it had it done its job. She flipped the volume switch to its loudest point. It wasn’t exactly a boom box, but it was loud enough for him to hear the message. He turned pale. When it came to the part she wanted most, she brought it close to his ear.

  “Suck my cock, Victoria,” his voice barked over the silence of the parking lot. She let it run for a moment more, then clicked it off and put it back in her handbag.

  “Harass my child, ever, and you’re a dead man, Tatum. And don’t worry. This isn’t a crusade and I’m not a reformer. Play your little sex games all you want. I’ve already done my share. Frankly, it was revolting. But don’t, under any circumstances, ever threaten my son with expulsion or fail to give him the recommendations that he deserves. Get my drift?”

  “Rotten bitch,” he muttered through trembling lips. His face had gone ashen.

  “And here’s something to comfort you on the way home.” She threw a Milky Way through the window. It landed on his lap.

  He opened his mouth, but could not speak. Then he gunned the motor and, wheels squealing, sped away.

  Back in her own car, she slumped over the wheel. She felt drained. Worse, it was something she would have to live with all by herself. Neither Josh nor Michael must ever know.

  She admitted to herself that her focus was narrow in this case. She had told Tatum the truth. She was not a crusader. Her only cause was her children, their future. Weighed against that, who cared about his sick peccadilloes? What she had done was to checkmate his power over her and her child. Despite her revulsion and shame, she could take comfort in the outcome.

  Chapter 8

  This time Josh had prepared himself for the confrontation with Dominic Bocci. His mind was clearer and he had developed some semblance of a plan.

  By then, he had assessed his situation. He was ready to pay for his mistakes and willing to capitulate. Although he had disdained any knowledge of their personal finances, his experience with his parents’ estate had given him some minor understanding of the basics of finance. He was certain that he had good credit and, once he knew where his assets were, he would find a way to borrow his way out of this situation. Of course, it was, as yet, a vague plan.