Kyra Davis - Vows, Vendettas And A Little Black Dress

–Fatally Yours

Leah refused to talk any more about it until we were both seated across from one another at a corner table. I allowed her this because I had my doubts about how useful her information was going to be.

There was no one at the neighboring tables but she still took the time to look over both her shoulders before leaning forward to reveal her secret.

“Remember when that horrible little group of protestors stood outside Dena’s store a few years ago? They called themselves Moral Americans Against Pornography?”

“Are you talking about MAAP?” I asked. “They’ve protested twice. I think it might even become an annual event. Dena loves it. Each time they’ve shown up she’s called all her customers and offered them what she calls the Wrath-of-God discount. That’s fifteen percent off any item in the store that’s provocative enough to piss off an antiporn picketer.”

“In other words, everything in her store.”

“Exactly. It’s her busiest day of the year.”

Leah smiled. “It’s just impossible not to admire her ingenuity. Anyway, the woman who founded MAAP is Chrissie Powell. She serves on the San Francisco symphony fundraising board with me. She’s nice to the people she needs to impress but no one else. Wretched woman. Would you believe that she wouldn’t even hire me to plan her wedding? She actually told me that she wasn’t sure if I was qualified to handle such a big event! I have organized corporate parties for five hundred people. I’ve planned the bar mitzvahs for the children of some of the most respected families in this city! Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins are still talking about the twenty-fifth anniversary party I threw them—”

“Leah,” I said irritably and motioned for her to get on with it.

“Right,” she said, only slightly chastened. “Chrissie founded MAAP on the pretense that the group’s purpose is to fight against all pornography.”

“It’s not?”

“Hardly. Perhaps that’s what some of the members believe, but Chrissie formed the group for one reason. She wanted to torment Dena.”

One of the baristas behind the counter turned on the blender and the grinding whine of the appliance played devil’s advocate to the mellow notes of Paul Simon coming through the speakers. “Why would anyone form an entire group just to torment one person?” I asked. “It’s not like Dena’s a politician or even a real pornographer. She just sells sexy lingerie, toys, a few naughty books and a couple of adult videos. Is that really so offensive?”

Leah cocked her head to the side. “You do realize that literary erotica and adult videos are the very definition of pornography, don’t you?”

“Yeah, okay, but she’s not making the videos. She’s just selling them.”

“I see. So if you’re just selling the cocaine but not actually growing the coca plants, are you really a drug pusher?”

“Can we not get nitpicky about this?”

Leah rolled her eyes. “It’s not really about what she sells in her store anyway. Chrissie’s trying to get back at Dena because approximately two years ago Dena slept with Chrissie’s husband, Tim.”

I nearly dropped my plastic cup. “What? Did Dena know the guy was married?’

“He wasn’t. Not at the time. They were just engaged. Whether or not Dena knew he was engaged is anyone’s guess, although I don’t see how she would have. Engaged men don’t wear rings, and it’s not as if Dena asks a man a lot of questions before inviting him into her bed.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s completely fair. But if it makes you feel better, let’s say she did ask him if he was involved with anyone else. What are the chances he would have told her the truth?”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But…you just said this was before they got married?” A couple took the table next to us and I scooted my chair closer to Leah so we could continue our conversation in quieter tones. “If she knew her fiancé was messing around, why did she go through with it?”

“Apparently Chrissie didn’t find out about what Tim did until after the wedding. God only knows how it all came to her attention. Of course if she had hired me to plan her wedding, I would have been able to alert her to the problem. I can always spot a cheater.”

“Leah, you were married to a cheater and you didn’t have a clue until he announced he was leaving you for a twenty-two-year-old.”

“Well, I learned from that,” Leah snapped. “Now I can spot a cheater from a mile away. Of course, I didn’t get within a mile of Tim. I’ve never even met the man. But if I had been allowed to plan the wedding I would have seen right through him and then—”

“And then there wouldn’t have been a wedding to plan,” I said irritably. Listening to Leah chastise another woman for marrying a cheater was like listening to Lindsay Lohan complain about reckless drivers.

“Perhaps there wouldn’t have been,” Leah said with a shrug. “On the other hand, perhaps they would have worked it out. It’s not as if she’s left him now that she knows.”

“And yet she’s still after Dena?”

“Yes.” Leah fingered the stiffly starched collar of her pale blue linen shirt. “That part’s understandable.”

“How? Dena’s not the one who cheated. Tim is!”

“Yes, but Chrissie’s not married to Dena,” Leah pointed out. “If Chrissie puts all the blame on Dena’s shoulders she doesn’t have to worry about finding a good marriage therapist or divorce attorney. Focusing all her bad feelings on Dena helps her salvage the good feelings she has for Tim. Really, Sophie, it’s Psychology 101.”

“Leah, I took Psych 101. There isn’t a textbook in the world that names scapegoating and the displacement of blame as good coping strategies.”

“All right, fine. But are you honestly going to tell me that you’ve never done it? You’ve never blamed your ex-husband for all of your problems?”

“That’s different!” I shot back.

“Why?”

“Because…because he’s fair game. Ex-husbands were put on this earth to be blamed for things. That’s just the way it is.”

“Really?” Leah asked, raising her eyebrows. “Did they teach you that in psych class?”

“Oh, shut up,” I responded without any real vehemence. “How do you know all this anyway?” I asked as I took a sip of my drink.

“Two years ago, only about a month before she put MAAP together, Chrissie cornered me after one of our board meetings. She said she had been researching Dena Lopiano and apparently she found a picture of me standing next to her on a Google image search. She wanted to know if I was aware that the woman she presumed to be my friend was really a home-wrecker.”

“And what did you say?”

Leah shrugged. “I told her that Dena wasn’t anything of the sort. She’s just a tad slutty, that’s all.”

“Leah!”

“Are you honesty going to tell me I’m wrong?”

“You can be extremely promiscuous without being a slut.”

“According to what dictionary?”

I gripped the edge of the table and then quickly drew my hand away as I discovered the hardened lump of someone’s old gum. “Oh, that’s great. Do you have one of those antibacterial wipes?” I asked as I examined my fingers with disgust. Leah wordlessly pulled out the requested item. That’s the thing about moms: they’re always prepared for the yucky stuff.

“I’ll wait while you throw that away,” Leah said, pointedly staring at the used wipe.

I wrinkled my nose at her before dutifully getting up to find a trash can for the wipe. When I got back Leah had her iPhone out on the table.

“Tell me more.”

Leah brightened, clearly happy that she would be allowed to continue to dish. “After confronting me about the whole picture thing, Chrissie told me that she had recently learned about the little tryst Tim had with Dena. I assured her that the affair couldn’t have been long-lived since, until her recent arrangement, Dena has never stayed with a man for longer than one full moon cycle. But Chrissie went ahead and put together MAAP anyway.”