Terry Lynn Thomas - The Betrayal

The couple went at it like rabbits, and Olivia was just about to exit the video, when the man – hidden by the camera – flipped the girl, so she was underneath him. From this new angle, Olivia recognized the man’s face. Richard. Her husband. Screwing someone young enough to be his daughter.

“Oh, God,” Mary gasped, stepping away from Olivia, her hand over her mouth.

Olivia closed the laptop and pushed it away from her. The sound of crashing waves filled Olivia’s ears. She pushed her chair away from the desk, as if distance would make the wretched thing go away. It didn’t. Her stomach clenched into a painful cramp. She picked up the glass of water that rested on her desk, but it slipped from her shaking hands, drenching her lap in water.

Ignoring the mess she’d made, Olivia said, “Mary, would you excuse me. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off.”

Mary waited, her embarrassment balanced by a look of worry and concern. “Are you sure?”

Olivia nodded. She waited until Mary had left and locked the door. Taking deep, steadying breaths, she pulled the laptop towards her, and ignoring the cold water that puddled in her lap, she forced herself to watch the video, this time with the sound on. When it finished, with Richard and his lover satisfied, Olivia sat at her desk, numb and unable to move, her stomach feeling as though she had eaten a bag of rocks. Olivia couldn’t quite catch her breath.

When the office walls started to close in, she snapped the laptop shut and tried to stand, and despite her weak knees, somehow managed to find her way to her car.

After pulling to a stop at the bottom of Lauren’s driveway, Olivia took a moment to collect herself. What a hideous rollercoaster her day had become. First the productive meeting with Claire and the promise of freedom from her law practice, only to be turned completely upside down by the horrendous video of Richard screwing some young anonymous girl. Hours ago Olivia had felt secure in her marriage, confident in the love she and Richard had shared for more than three decades. All that was gone, obliterated.

Olivia took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the nausea that once again threatened. Clutching the bag that held the sandwiches in one hand and a bottle of cold champagne in the other, she headed up the steep cobbled walkway to Lauren’s house, unable to shut off the images of Richard naked and entwined with another woman. No, not a woman. A girl. A very young girl.

Lauren opened the door before Olivia had a chance to knock. At first glance, Lauren Ridley looked like any other aging hippie, a common sight in Marin County. Today she wore a tie-dyed maxi dress in bright turquoise and yellow, which fell to the floor and brushed against her bare feet. Her thick long hair, white as Sunday linen, fell into corkscrew curls to her shoulders. A chunky Indian turquoise necklace hung around her neck, the blue stones bringing out the brightness in her eyes.

Humble to the core, Lauren never spoke of the six gold records that hung on the wall in her tiny office at the back of the house. Lauren Ridley was a bona fide rock and roll legend. Despite the passing years – Lauren’s star went supernova in the late 1960s – people still smiled when they recognized her. She always had a moment to chat, sign autographs, and reflect on the good old days of rock and roll. Tough, cynical, kind, generous, Lauren Ridley was Olivia’s closest confidante. Now she eyed the bag of food.

“You didn’t have to bring food. I told you I was cooking … What’s the matter?” She took the food from Olivia and held the door for her.

“The last time you cooked, the kitchen caught fire,” Olivia said, trying for humor but failing miserably.

Lauren took the bag of sandwiches and set off down the corridor, Olivia at her heels. “Be nice to me, Liv. I’ve got champagne chilled.”

“I’ve got some, too.”

Lauren whirled around and stared at Olivia, her head cocked to one side. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Olivia shook her head. “No. I don’t know.”

“Come on, let’s get you some nice cold champagne. Then you can tell me all about it.”

Olivia followed Lauren into the comfortable but cluttered kitchen. She took a seat on one of the bar stools while Lauren put Olivia’s bottle of champagne in the fridge before opening a bottle that sat in a bucket of ice. She filled two flutes and handed one to Olivia. “Let’s sit in the living room.”

Lauren’s house was designed and decorated for ease and comfort. Her living room, with its large windows and view of Mt Tamalpais, was furnished with two large couches and a quantity of comfortable pillows for those who preferred to sit on the floor. Lauren set the ice bucket that held the champagne on the coffee table, topped off Olivia’s glass, and sat down next to her. “Tell me. What’s happened.”

Olivia opened the video and handed her phone to Lauren. When Lauren hit the sound button, Olivia wanted to plug her ears. While Lauren’s expression went from curiosity to realization, and finally to disgust, Olivia guzzled her champagne and refilled her glass.

“That son of a bitch. How did you find this?”

“It showed up in an email.”

“Someone sent this to you?” Lauren furrowed her brow, leaned back on the couch, and watched the video again, this time with the sound off. “That woman is so young. And how could Richard be so stupid to allow himself to be filmed? What the hell. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was a set-up, a fake video.”

“Could it be faked?” Olivia seized this lifeline, desperate for any explanation that exonerated her husband.

Lauren scooted close to Olivia and put an arm around her shoulder. “I think it’s probably real, Liv. And I am so very sorry.” Lauren set her glass down and stared at her hands for a moment. When she looked up, Olivia was struck by the flinty hardness she saw in her friend’s eyes.

“Over the years I’ve been amazed – and impressed – by your devotion to Richard. You are a good wife; have been a good wife. But you see your husband through rose-colored glasses.”

Olivia opened her mouth to argue with Lauren, but she didn’t have words. There was no witty comeback, no scathing truth to be had here. Richard had cheated on her. She had the video to prove it. Had there been others?

“I’m betting this woman isn’t the first.” Lauren said, reading Olivia’s mind in that uncanny way of good friends.

Olivia downed the rest of her champagne. “You’ve seen him with another woman, haven’t you?”

Lauren wouldn’t meet Olivia’s eyes as she fiddled with her cuticles. “Once. At the Fairmont. But that was a long time ago and I wasn’t one hundred percent certain there was anything inappropriate going on. They weren’t kissing or anything though they seemed cozy. I wrote it off to a business function. If it had been anything blatant, I would have told you. You know that. But in retrospect …”

Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. How much more could she take?

Lauren refilled their glasses. “How about food, followed by more champagne? I think we should get very drunk.”

“I’m supposed to be making dinner for my family tonight. How am I going to face Richard?”

“I could come with you. Stand behind you with a baseball bat, just to let him know you mean business.” Lauren gave Olivia a wistful smile and pushed a box of Kleenex towards her.

“I’ll never forgive him for this, Lauren. God, the idea of being in the same room with him makes me want to puke. I want him gone, out of my house.” Olivia stood, wobbling on her feet for a moment as the champagne went straight to her head. “I’ve been so stupid. He’s betrayed me in the most horrific way.”