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I vague-answered him, not telling him about Tanya. “I’m not sure. He hasn’t said anything or acted differently.”
“If he does know, he may be trying to mentally mess with you. Whatever you do, don’t show this note or any others you get to anyone. Especially your husband. We have him under surveillance and it’s going well.”
A flash of trepidation flared in my chest. So he had photos. Of my husband having sex with my friends. Maybe others. I hung up the phone, not feeling one iota better. If anything, the costly fifteen-minute phone call had left me feeling worse. Way worse.
Emotionally drained, I decided to take a nap on one of the living room couches. Screw the Ladies of Hancock Park’s annual Christmas luncheon at the Wiltern Theater, one of the many holiday events I had scheduled all throughout the week. Probably half “the ladies” had slept with my husband anyway. I couldn’t face them…let them see the burn of shame on my cheeks while they laughed behind my back.
Just as my eyes grew heavy, my phone, which I’d left on the coffee table, rang. Groggy, I grappled for it. Caller Unknown. Against my better judgment, I sat up and answered it on the third ring.
“Hello?”
Silence on the other end.
“Hello. Is someone there?”
“You…will…pay…for…what…you…did.” The frightening voice sounded like it had been electronically manipulated. A hoarse whisper. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female.
My breath hitched. Every nerve in my body was on edge. “Who is this?”
Click. The phone went dead. It shook in my trembling hand. I could hardly breathe. Despite Jason’s warning about Matt’s possible scare tactics, I felt something worse. Way worse.
I gasped for air, and as my jaw fell open, acid-hot vomit shot into my mouth, then poured out. Torrid tears seared my eyes. I was falling apart.
“Mom, are you okay?” came a concerned voice as I retched again.
Weakly, I lifted my head. It was Paige, sprinting my way, alarm written all over her.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Honey,” I croaked, my throat burning, “get me some paper towels. And a cold wet compress.”
“I’ll be right back.” She dashed off.
Then another familiar voice. “Natalie, are you sick or something?”
Tanya. She stood her distance.
I met her gaze. “Y-yes… I think I’ve come down with some kind of bug.”
She made a disgusted face. “Eww! I better stay away. With the senior class Christmas party in two days and our trip to Hawaii coming up, I don’t want to get it.”
She darted out of the room and I heard her sprint up the stairs. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t said, “Hope you feel better.” Those words had no meaning for me.
Hunching over, I buried my face in my hands.
Things were only going to get worse.
And they did.
FORTY-EIGHT
NATALIE
For all I knew, I’d contracted a real bug, perhaps whatever the latest flu was. I spent the rest of the week in bed, only getting up to use the bathroom or to crawl downstairs to the kitchen to get something to eat. Usually just some tea. I barely ate a thing and was sure I’d lost several pounds. Maybe dropped a size. I looked like death. Skeletal. My cheeks hollow, my ribs protruding, and my complexion sallow.
I bowed out of all the holiday events I had scheduled, from festive luncheons to elegant cocktail parties. And all my many charitable endeavors like delivering food to the homeless and toys to children in hospitals. I fell behind on everything—including buying Christmas gifts for everyone in my family and all our help. At least I didn’t feel the need to buy gifts for my close friends. They could have Matt. He’d be lucky if I gave him a bag of coal.
I had no strength. I couldn’t focus or concentrate. The only upside of this ordeal was I didn’t have to share my bed with Matt. The bastard was sleeping on the couch in his office, telling the kids he didn’t want to get sick before we went away to Maui.
