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Tucking the keys in his jacket pocket, Randy popped the door open and stepped down from the truck. The block was dark, save the dull glow of lamplight from the neighboring homes. Looking both ways, he jogged across the street and up the short drive until the freshly trimmed bushes lining the foundation provided him an effective cover.
For the past few days he had spent his time following Terri, learning her habits. Since she came in late each night, she started each afternoon with a run, always careful to keep an eye on her surroundings, though she never saw him. The rest of the afternoon was spent inside cleaning or watching TV. Once she had ventured to the grocery store, sticking to the main roads, stopping at all the red lights and stop signs.
Never was much of a risk taker, he mused, puffing on his cigarette.
Smoke curled from his nostrils as he peered inside. Tidy kitchen as always. He made his way around back, peeking inside at all the furniture. So she had kept the lot of it, after all. Maybe the little minx should be rewarded…
By the time the sun started setting, Terri’s familiar white Ford would back down the drive and head in the direction of the club. Randy had spent each of those days and nights tracking her every move, learning the paths she took. She never deviated.
Tonight, he stayed behind. It was time to step up his game.
There was a low deck tacked onto the back of the house, a sliding glass door the only thing that separated outside from in. Pulling out his pocket knife, Randy slipped the blade between the doors and set to work prying the lock.
There was only one thing that stuck in his craw about the whole deal. Of all the nights he had tailed her, at the end of every one of them an expensive black car would slide up behind hers, wait until she got out of the car, waved goodbye and the garage door shut securely, before shooting down the street and out of sight. No one ever got out, but Randy had seen that same car in the parking lot of Sunset Black and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that behind all that sleek muscle was another man.
The little bitch was stepping out on him.
Instantly enraged by the very thought, Randy wrenched the knife sideways, breaking the blade off in the door. He cursed blackly, kicked the bottom of the door, and strode in circles, digging his fingers into his hair as his mind worked overtime to both calm down and come up with a new plan.
He had to get inside. It was essential that he know everything, the routes she took, her schedule, and the lay of the land.
The silver moon glowed overhead, mocking him. Somewhere in the trees and owl hooted its laughter at his failure. “Best laid plans,” he muttered to himself, pacing the deck, his brows drawn low as he thought hard.
“Fuck it,” he growled. Storming back to the glass doors, Randy gripped the recessed handles and put everything he had into them. Using his bodyweight, he shoved repeatedly, rocking the doors on their tracks, until, finally, the flimsy metal lock inside gave way and the panel glided open.
Satisfaction rolling through him, he stepped inside and gave himself a tour of his new home.
It was neat as a pin. The floors polished, the countertops gleaming. The smell of lemons hung in the air. As he moved into the living room he got an eyeful of the expensive furniture they had purchased early in their marriage, right down to the woven rug lying beneath the glass top coffee table.
The bathroom was out of date, linoleum covered floors, brass light fixtures over a frameless mirror. Nothing noteworthy. Opening the door to what must have been a guest bedroom; he saw more of the same. Too much furniture crammed into too tight a space. Closing the door behind him, he turned and stepped immediately into Terri’s room. She had kept their bedroom outfit, too, he noted smugly.
Sliding the bifold closet doors open, he scanned the clothes hanging on the bar, everything evenly spaced and organized according to color and season. Two pairs of tennis shoes rested on the floor beside a pair of black pumps and bright red heels that screamed trash. Shaking his head in disgust, Randy closed the closet and moved to the dresser.
The first drawer was reserved for socks. The second and third for pair after pair of lacy underwear and bras, all part of a set he noted with curiosity. Terri had never been one for fashion or one to worry whether her undergarments complemented each other. Either she had developed an addiction to lingerie, or his suspicions about another guy were true.
The evidence was pretty damning.
Reaching inside, Randy sifted through the silky scraps of material, searching for something, anything that might shed some light on this new side of Terri he had discovered, but he came up empty handed.
It was obvious to him that she was up to something, though.
Headlights whipped across the room, casting slashes of bright light across the walls and ceiling. His eyes cut to the clock on the table. Somehow he had lost two hours. His heart slammed in his chest, a warning that it was time to leave, but he ignored it, sliding up to the window’s edge and looking out. The street was dark, but the porch light illuminated the driveway.
Terri’s car was just pulling up the drive. Pausing, he watched as she waited for the garage door to rise, then drove inside. Where was—oh yes, there it was. On cue, the black car rolled up, but instead of stopping at the curb, it pulled right into the driveway.
Eyes narrowing, Randy focused on that car, determined to witness this scene play out.
Terri made an appearance first, the clicking of her heels audible through the closed windows as she approached the luxury car. Cutting the engine, the driver pushed open the door and stepped out.
Definitely a man, Randy thought, sneering as he sized up the competition. Tall, at least six-foot, dark hair and a wide smile. He wore a simple pair of dark jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt. Aside from the car, the only thing that hinted that he was loaded was the platinum watch around his wrist and the diamond stud glinting in his ear. Other than that, the guy was pretty average.
It must be the money, Randy thought with some irritation. That was a woman for you, though. His mother had been a gold digger, raised by a gold digger. It only made sense that Randy would marry one, considering what he was raised with.
He couldn’t hear their conversation, only muffled voices through the thick glass. As they walked side by side up the walkway toward the front door, Randy experienced a moment of panic. It was too late to backtrack down the hall and out the back door where he had come in without getting caught. He didn’t know the house well enough to find an adequate hiding place, either, but as the front door opened and he heard the couple step inside, he visually inspected the room for the best option.
The closet was tight, and would be the most likely place Terri would go first if she planned to change out of her work attire. The bathroom was a close second, and there was no way he would be able to duck into the neighboring bedroom without being caught on the spot, the living room being just feet away and in clear view of the short hallway.
The bed was the only option he had left. Crossing the room, Randy dropped to his stomach and slithered beneath the bed, scowling over the fact that he had to hide from his own wife.
