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Chloe begins to look in the pockets in the backs of the seats. “Did you check everything?”
“Yep, I didn’t find anything.”
Chloe gets down onto the floor and begins to feel around under the seats.
“What are you going to do?” I ask Rebecca.
“I don’t know. This isn’t concrete evidence enough to prove anything, but if he thinks I’m onto him, he’ll be super careful, and I’ll never know the truth.”
“You really think he would cheat on you?”
“He cheated once in college.”
I frown.
“He was drunk, and we were doing the long-distance thing, but he called me distraught half an hour after it happened, crying his eyes out, racked with guilt. He’s not the lying type. At least I don’t think.”
“Is this yours?” Chloe pulls out a small pink bulldog clip from under the seat.
Rebecca stares at it in Chloe’s hand. “No. It’s not.”
I put my hands over my mouth in horror. “Fuck.”
“Men are such fucking idiots,” Chloe whispers angrily.
“Get out. We’ll talk about it out there in case he gets home,” Rebecca whispers. “I don’t want him to know I’m onto him.”
We climb out of the car and close the door, and we walk back into the house. “Who wants wine?” Rebecca fumes.
“Yeah, sure,” Chloe and I reply, both scared for our lives.
This is so weird, sharing something so personal with someone we hardly know.
Rebecca pours three glasses of wine and heads out to the back garden. There’s a beautiful pool area with a cabana, and she leads us down there. We sit at a table.
“Have you had any inkling that something was off?” I ask.
She twists her lips. “Our sex life has been nearly nonexistent, but he’s been working so much that he’s been tired.”
“But has he really been working?” Chloe whispers. “I mean . . .” She shrugs.
“Who fucking knows.” Rebecca puts her hand over her forehead. “I can’t believe it.”
“Look, it may not even be what we’re assuming. It could be completely innocent,” I try to reassure her. “Innocent until proven guilty, right?”
“How could this be innocent?” she huffs. She drains her glass and fills it again.
“I don’t know.” I try to think of a logical explanation. “Have you ever parked this car in valet parking?” I ask.
“All the time.”
“How do you know that one of the parking attendants hasn’t been getting busy with a waitress in your car?”
Rebecca stares at me.
“Or the car wash?” I shrug. “Or the mechanic. The mechanic may have fucked his receptionist in the back seat of the car just today.”
Chloe twists her lips. “Maybe.”
