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TWENTY-THREE
JOLENE
Dominic is away, wasting time at the Fox Trot. How do I know? Because about six weeks ago, while he was sleeping, I turned on the location sharing on his phone. I know exactly where he is, and when I saw him pinned at the Fox Trot, I had every urge to drive there, curse him the hell out, and demand answers about these offshore accounts.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though. After the visit from my mother and checking all of my accounts with True Oil Co., I gave Anita a call and she confirmed that a stock had indeed been sold. She gave me the name of the banks the money from the sale are going to, but the accounts can only be accessed in person.
“So, you’re telling me I have to fly to Mexico and Italy just to figure out where the hell my money is going?” I paced the living room with an early glass of wine in hand.
“I’m afraid so. There’s nothing I can do from my end other than put a freeze on the deposits.”
“I never did this, Anita,” I told her. “There is nothing in Italy or Mexico for me! Hell, I’ve never even traveled there.” Unfortunately. Italy was on my bucket list though.
She sighed on the other end. I could hear her children in the background, yelling as they played. I hate that I’d interrupted her day off, but I needed answers.
“Listen, Joey.” The way she said my name gave me a zing of nostalgia and I paused mid-sip. Only Daddy and Mom called me Joey. It was more endearing from Daddy. More of a patronizing thing from my mother. But Anita was basically like family, so she called me by that name too on occasion. It made me feel like a real person again, not just a shell of who I was. “Talk to your husband, okay?” she insisted. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but he’s the one who contacted me about setting up the deposits for the sold share. He told me this was something you two had planned because you were struggling financially. Said you wanted him to handle it because you were ashamed. Your signatures were on the papers for the company approval and with him having joint access, I figured this was something you wanted. I realize now that I should’ve called to triple check. I’m sorry.”
“But I . . .” I stood in the middle of the living room, blinking back tears. I refused to cry and instead drew in a breath and closed my eyes to cool the burn behind them. “Put a freeze on the money until I figure out what’s going on.”
“I will tomorrow.” She paused. “And by the way, he cashed in a few bonds too. That money plus the money from the brokered share are going into three accounts, Jolene. Not two. I didn’t tell your mom this, but the third one goes to an account in South Carolina.”
“South Carolina?” I repeated.
“Yes. Have a good night,” Anita said, and the call ended.
That was hours ago. I went to bed with a bottle of wine, finished it off, then cried myself to sleep. I’d sent a text to Daphne asking if we could meet on Monday, and she said to swing by for lunch.
Now I’m at my best friend’s house, seated on the plush brown sofa in her living room. One of the two casement windows ahead is open, letting in a fall breeze. The breeze is soothing as it brushes across my skin. I wish it could calm my nerves, but it’s useless. All I can think about is Dominic, his lies, the accounts, even the attempted break-in. There is so much chaos going on and I feel like I’m in the middle of it all, yet I’m blind to what’s really happening. I’m watching the hurricane spin toward me, threatening to rip everything I’ve built apart. I have a bunker, but I’m the idiot standing outside, waiting to be swept up because I want—no, need to know more about how dangerous it is.
I sit with my arms folded, leg bouncing just as Daphne walks my way from the kitchen. I watch her as she places a tray of tea and miniature sandwiches on the coffee table. She looks really pretty today in a pink dress, hair pulled into a neat, braided ponytail. She pours tea into each cup then offers one to me on a saucer. I unfold my arms and take it, avoiding her eyes.
“You ready to talk now, or what?” she asks after pouring a drizzle of honey into her cup. I suppose it was rude of me to come inside with a measly hello and saunter straight to the living room. She knew I was upset before arrival, but still. I have more manners than that.
“I’m sorry for how I walked in here, girl,” I murmur. “I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it yet.” I sip my English tea as it is. No need to sweeten up my already sour mood. I want to cling to this anger, so that I can confront Dominic just as I am when he steps through the doors of our house. He went to Greensboro on Sunday and returns today, likely in an hour or two. He has a meeting around four but should be home afterward. I only know about the meeting because I called Melissa to see what his schedule was like.
“It’s just . . . the money, Jo,” Daphne murmured. “He spoke to Anita behind your back. Forged your signature. Sold a whole share and cashed in your bonds right under your nose. He’s using your money and doing whatever he wants with it.”
“I know.” I finally look at her, and her lips are pressed, sympathy swirling in her brown eyes. “He told Anita we were struggling and that I was ashamed and wanted him to handle selling that share. He fucking lied. I just don’t get why he’d go to such an extreme. If he needed money for something, he should’ve talked to me.”
Daphne sighs, crossing her legs and sitting back with her teacup raised in front of her. “I know it’s not my place, but I don’t think it was wise of you to open a joint brokerage account with him. As soon as you told me he’d asked about it, I just had this feeling, you know? I mean, even back in college, JoJo. The way he was suddenly so intrigued by you. He’d never noticed you before—not that it’s a bad thing. It just came left field is all. It was always like he was after something with you. I don’t know.”
“He had no interest in me before because I was unattractive and chunky. Literally no one noticed me.”
“Well, there was one person. And it wasn’t for the better.”
“Ugh. Yeah. But that’s different.” I place my tea on the glass coffee table, trying to ignore the thought that I too felt like Dominic come out of nowhere. This gorgeous man with a bright smile and delicious body. I figured I was blessed, that I deserved the attention after all my hard work in the gym and in school.
“Stop talking about yourself like that, Jo. You’ve always been beautiful, no matter what size.” She pauses, and her brown eyes become more serious as she studies me. “How much do you think you know him, really?”
“How much do you know your husband?” I counter, and I instantly regret it because she flinches, as if I’ve slapped her. I drop my head, the shame swallowing me whole. “I’m sorry, Daph. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” Her question has triggered me, reminding me of my mother’s visit yesterday. Interrogating me, my marriage, my life, but it’s not Daphne’s fault any of this is happening. It’s mine. All my mistakes have amounted to this. She’s only trying to comfort me.
Daphne clears her throat, setting her tea on a saucer, then picking up one of the sandwiches. I’ve struck a chord with her, I can tell. She’s doing that pursed lips thing—the one that makes her look slightly like a fish because she’s trying to fight whatever words are rolling around in her brain.
“You’re right,” I tell her, placing a hand on her arm. Her lashes flutter as her eyes find mine. “The more time goes on, the more I feel like I don’t know Dominic at all.”
“You need to get to the bottom of what’s happening.” She picks up a plate and collects another sandwich. “Are you hungry?” she asks before biting into the one in her hand.
“No.” And I’m really not. After my mother said I looked pudgy, I don’t want to eat a thing. And to punish myself further, I stepped on the scale this morning (something I’ve not done in months) and have gained four pounds. It could be water weight, but still. I have to do better.
