Jonathan Williams called yesterday. I couldn’t believe my good luck. My husband had been such a dick lately that I needed the escape. I never expected his call and Jonathan’s sexy voice hit me like the air in hot yoga—so steamy I could barely think. I hadn’t posted any substantial articles about him in weeks on my website. The last insignificant one was a result of the selfie that Mia Thompson had put up and he deserved that article. If he’s going to let her tweet about their early morning excursions then who am I to keep it away from my readers. I knew he couldn’t be calling about that tiny blip. Since the selfie, I’ve only posted the usual daily sightings of him around town—the fan pics, not the paparazzi. Though I’m sure my readers would devour paparazzi pictures, it would break the unspoken agreement that I have with Jonathan. I don’t think he would be so forthcoming with his private life if I entangled myself with the vultures. It’s more personal when I post fan pics anyway and I so want to be personal with him.
Jonathan was clearly interested in my life—another surprise. He knew about Gerard’s problems with the coach’s daughter. He even knew about Gerard’s shoulder injury. Though it was in the press, it pleased me that he’d been keeping track of me so closely.
When he told me that he and Mia Thompson weren’t getting back together, I offered myself to him on a platter for his enjoyment. I guess I should have been more subtle with him, more seductive. Being direct didn’t work.
He’s a bit more complicated than most men. In my experience with the male species, what you see is what you get. Jonathan has been through more than any twenty-three year old should have to endure and most of the time I have no idea what motivates him. But the more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I can spot his vulnerabilities. He’s got this tender side that calls to me. So while most of the press has been ruthless to him over the last few years, I have cultivated a personal relationship with him and I can tell he sees me as different. Jonathan and I have an undeniable connection.
He wanted the email address for some girl that was a regular poster on my website. At first, I was skeptical about providing him links to the competition. But when he mentioned that he thought she was his brother’s ex, I couldn’t say no. If it was the ex-girlfriend I thought it was, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him anyway. Besides I couldn’t deny him anything. All he would have to do is say my name with those gorgeous lips and I’d cave.
Gerard says I need professional help. He thinks that my infatuation with Jonathan is unhealthy. And maybe it is, but he doesn’t realize that it plays into my plan. Payback’s a bitch, right? My husband should never have cheated on me. He doesn’t know what lengths I’m willing to go for revenge.
Jonathan’s call definitely doused gasoline on the already lit fuse that I hadn’t told Gerard about. I was ready for my oblivious husband to know what he had started. I revealed my affair with his teammate, Caleb Gossling, and I thought he would at least smash his hand through the wall or break the corner off the granite breakfast bar. But he just grinned at me and before taking a bite of his sandwich, casually announced, “I guess we’re even.” Then he spun around on his bar stool and flicked on ESPN.
We were far from even, but I was so caught off guard by his lack of emotion that I was speechless. Me speechless? I could tell he was waiting for me to become irrational, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He had his own game going on. I just smiled and leaned over the counter, purring in his ear. “Next time it will be with someone that means something to me.”
He knew who I meant.
“A tit for a tat, Gerry.” His lip curled a little at my words as he rotated back to meet my eyes. He hated it when I called him Gerry.
He stared at me, while I wondered how long my threat would keep him in line. The fury in his eyes penetrated me, sending a shiver down my spine. He’d never gotten violent at home. I knew so many hockey wives that dealt with violence off the rink. They accepted it as part of the package with the high adrenaline lifestyle. The money and recognition brought privilege—the abuse just became part of the payment—sanctioned by the wife’s lack of power. The minute a woman stopped seeing herself as equal, the relationship became askew and she was no longer more than an accessory—something to be worn and thrown away.
And maybe Gerard’s and my relationship was off kilter a bit too. I knew the coach’s daughter wasn’t his first. But hell if I was going to stand for his cheating any longer. With Jonathan’s call, I knew I had options.
I stared right back at him. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. When his hand jetted out and grasped my shoulder hard, his fingers digging into my skin, I cringed at the impending blow. But instead, he pulled me in for the most tender kiss I’ve ever had and as I lay on my stomach stretched across the breakfast bar, I melted into his arms, imagining he was my fascination.
“No more, baby,” he whispered, though I knew he was lying. At least, for now, he would be faithful and that was better than a fist to the side of the head. I’d made it clear that I wouldn’t let him get away with the cheating. He knew the price. But I knew that I wouldn’t have to wait forever to quench my obsession with Jonathan, guilt-free.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler
