Prologue
By Micki L. Bailey
It was raining outside in Portland. But it was storming inside Maggie. She lay on the leather sofa and closed her eyes as the cool Chablis slid down her throat, trying "like hell" to calm the maelstrom of turbulent thoughts racing around in her head.
Then Nick’s face drifted easily across her mind’s eye – a new image there – and she smiled. Nick. Those magnificent black eyes that warmed her up all over now just remembering them. If not for Nick, she knew she would never have made it through the past couple of weeks. He was the second catastrophic happening in her life since Renaissance had opened last month. The first had, of course, involved Roger.
Simply put, Roger had found someone new with whom to share his affections. A lovely brunette named Shannon. She was the FBI liaison for the Portland police department and had breezed into their lives when she purchased the 1962 BMW Roger had advertised on the Internet. Unfortunately, in Maggie’s humble opinion, she hadn’t breezed back out.
The smile on her face vanished now when she recalled the other woman. And she clearly heard Roger shouting at her during their argument, "She’s not the other woman, Maggie! Don’t start that crap again!"
"Then what the hell is she, Roger? What do you call it now, huh? Just a little side dish or something? And don’t try to get me to swallow that ‘just friends’ bullshit either. I’ve seen you two together," she had answered.
Roger had wheeled around on her, unfamiliar coldness in his eyes. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" It had sounded very much like a hiss.
But she had not been daunted. Her eyes had spit hot lava. "In all the years I’ve known you, Roger, NEVER have I seen you act like that around any other female……….except me."
"Like what?" His tone grew more incredulous and menacing. Those eyes narrowed.
Maggie, however, had still held her ground. "Falling all over yourself to be genuinely nice to the bitch! And you can’t keep your damn hands off her! You forget I’m even around, Roger! It’s revolting! I can just imagine what happens when I’m NOT around!"
Roger had rolled his eyes. "Gimme a break, Maggie. I can’t be nice to anybody but you? Is that it?"
"Fuck you, Roger. You know exactly what I mean. You treat this woman differently, and you can’t deny it. You’re not your usual aloof, disinterested self around her. She means something to you. I see it all over you. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on between you two, and maybe I don’t wanna know."
"Then why don’t you mind your own goddamn business and stop asking questions you don’t want answered?" Cursing and more hissing.
She’d glared at him, more than slightly stunned. "Are you screwing her, Roger?"
"No." He hadn’t hesitated, and he’d looked her straight in the eyes. His voice had even softened slightly – maybe because he’d seen the hurt there. "She’s just somebody to talk to, baby………We got a lot in common………and it gets lonesome ‘round here with you being at Renaissance all the damn time."
"Don’t try blaming this shit on me, Roger.," she had scowled. I don’t havta put in so much freaking time at the restaurant. If I’d known you’d be out here chasing tail as soon as my back was turned, I’d never have opened that fucking place."
Looking down, Roger had said in a tone just above a whisper, "You and your sailor mouth." Then he’d laughed quietly. "It’s not like that, Maggie. I told you………..I just……needed something different."
Flames were leaping inside her now, threatening to burn some important foundations. "Different than me? You’re tired of me?"
Slowly, he’d raised his eyes back up to her. "Maggie…….baby……..loving you isn’t so much living day to day as it is emotionally and physically surviving the experience."
"What, precisely, are you saying, Roger?" She heard her own voice tremble.
"I’m saying, I guess, that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, no doubt about it..……….but the intensity of us takes a lot outta me…………I needed a change………someone new to talk to………..and, as it turns out, this new person just happens to be an attractive female. That’s all."
Maggie had been proverbially slammed against the brick wall behind her, and she wasn’t so sure that she didn’t stagger. She had no words to answer back and no breath to get them out with. The stark honesty had paralyzed all of her except her legs which she used to run to their bedroom. Once there, she could do nothing but sit down on the bed. Monumentally shocked.
Roger had, of course, followed her and knelt down in front of her, between her legs. His palms slid over her thighs. She looked down into his face. "I’d rather you tell me that you’re fucking her than that you’re getting some kinda emotional support from her ‘cause you need a break from me."
"Sweetheart," he whispered. "You’re getting it all wrong."
She hadn’t let him finish. "No, I’m not, Roger. I’ve seen you with her, and I heard what you just said to me……..I’ve lost a little part of you that used to be all mine."
He’d pressed closer to her crotch through her jeans. "Ahh, you haven’t lost any of me. I’m still here, and we’re still fine……..Shannon’s just somebody I hang out with sometimes. Nothing more. Don’t worry ‘bout her, baby. You’re the one I love."
Maggie had looked at him closely then and saw that he was telling her the truth. The truth as he understood it. But she knew there was more to the thing with this "new person" than he’d described.
She knew Roger. She’d been on the receiving end of his attentions for years now. And she understood cruelly that he gave more of a damn about this woman than all the other women who crossed his path. Call it a lover’s intuition or merely "bad vibes." She knew. To him, they might be "just friends," but Maggie had witnessed the potential for far more, and it frightened her immensely.
Also frightening was the mountain of common interests this woman shared with Roger. Not only were both involved in government law enforcement duties, but Shannon was also an avid connoisseur of guns and Harley Davidson motorcycles – two of his great passions.
Her father was a decorated Marine as Roger was, and she was much closer to his age than Maggie was. And – on top of everything else – Shannon was stunningly gorgeous with her perfect, well-toned, Victoria’s-Secret-model body and long, lustrous brown hair.
Oh, yeah. And she despised most the way this woman’s name seemed to glide so smoothly out of Roger’s mouth, like brushed velvet.
"To hell with her," Maggie said aloud lying there on the sofa. "I’m the one he loves."
After that terrible confrontation three weeks ago, life with Roger had become unusual, to say the least. He had been gone on several short trips to acquire new "classic" cars. And when he was home, the atmosphere between them was chilly and distant. They made conversation, and they made love. But something was missing from both, and both of them knew it. Their "connection" was weakened and suffering.
Maggie knew he hadn’t stopped "seeing" Shannon. She even heard him talking to her on the telephone, and he mentioned her casually in conversation once or twice. He wasn’t hiding anything from Maggie because he still perceived no imminent danger. But the subject wasn’t officially discussed between them again. She had decided that it would either work itself out or come to a big, destructive head sooner or later. Remembering that thought now, she shuddered.
He assumed I was fine with the whole thing, she told herself lying there, listening to the rain outside. And maybe I should have been. Maybe I was and still am overreacting to the ninth power. It’s just that the one thing I depend on is our mutual strength, the beautiful entity that is US. Who’s gonna blame me for getting defensive and protective when THAT’S threatened?
To get herself back on track and prevent falling off the edge of the world, Maggie had required a long talk with Elyse (her part-time shrink and very close friend). Elyse assured her that Roger’s behavior was "absolutely normal," and nothing to write home about.
"Most men go through this phase, dear, after a few years of marriage or a very close relationship. It’s a sort of identity crisis where they crave that single status once again and want to see if they still have what it takes to attract other women………They also may want to be free of the other person just for a time, to temporarily feel their own personal independence again. Roger, especially, has the disposition for that sort of stage."
Maggie had smirked dramatically. "But what if it’s NOT temporary? What if he decides that being with me is too intense, as he says, and too much of a freaking hassle? Don’t forget I’ve got Miss Precinct Universe standing in the wings over here ready to take my place."
Elyse had laughed a good, hearty laugh. "Maggie, that’s not likely to happen. That man has given all of his heart to you. He has nothing left for anyone else."
"Get on the clue bus, Elyse! He can give ‘er his dick! That doesn’t require any heart!"
Still laughing quietly, Elyse answered, "That scalding blood of yours, dear, is very entertaining sometimes. Just relax and ride it out. I see nothing here for you to get riled over."
And she’d felt better after that. Better enough to survive. Things between her and Roger were not paradise, but she was surviving. She threw herself into the business of running Renaissance, and tried her damnedest to not "get riled."
Then, a week or so after the terrible discussion with Roger, Maggie met Nick Santucci – accidentally and ironically – as if it had been part of some master script. In the two weeks since then, whole worlds had collided, halting their revolutions and turning each other upside down.
Maybe that goddamn restaurant was a crappy idea, she thought as she sipped more white wine and listened to the beating raindrops on this pseudo-peaceful afternoon. We were fine until it opened. We were happy. Totally together and completely exclusive. No fringe persons in our camp to distract us and make trouble. Would closing it bring things back to what they used to be? Or are we long past that?
Roger’s gone, really gone, and I don’t even know where to. I miss him. Of course I do. But I can’t wait to see Nick again. And I’ve got to make some decisions………soon. Go on, both of you. Take another little piece of my heart. It’s broken down in tiny little chunks, yours for the grabbing.
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