The Contingency Plan (The Lonely Heart Series) (10 page)

“Oh, just go on and say it, Charlie.  You’d feel a hell of a lot better.  The real question is, could we afford it on my income?  Because I’m not bringing in a quarter of a million dollars.”

She corrected him before she could stop herself.  “$325,000 per year and it’s all drained into this family without one single solitary compliant, except from you!” 

Alex smacked his lips together.  In a lower voice, he conceded.  “Well, if it comes down to it, at least you can afford this place
and this lifestyle
without me.  Then all the complaining would be over. You could get a nanny whom you could order around like you do everyone else.  You could truly say that there is no man doing shit for you, and life would finally be great
for you
,” he said, walking out of the room and leaving her alone. “Dinner is in the microwave,” he screamed out as he grabbed his coat and keys and headed out of the front door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, hearing the door slam. 

At that moment, Charlie wanted to cry.  She wan
t
ed to scream out and knock everything off the island table, but she was reduced to only a sigh.  Putting her head down on the table, she prayed quietly for strength and then sat up.  Plus if she stayed in that one position for too long, she would fall asleep. 

With everything that she had in her, she made herself walk up the long stairwell and down the long hall to her bedroom, but not before stopping in the kids’ bedroom to look at her twin eight year old boys who were now fast asleep and completely unaware of the fact that their parents were currently on the verge of something ugly.

When she opened the door to her bedroom, it looked empty and hollow.  Sure it was perfect.  King sized bed, huge entertainment cabinet, books on all the current issues, music, roses, art.  It had been designed by one of the best in the business, but even with all the money and class, it lacked the passion that she and her husband used to have. 

Peeling out of her black pants suit, she went into their master bathroom and started the shower - a ritual that she looked forward to on both good and bad days. 

The sound of hot water pouring out of the showe
r
head made her head swim with need.  Her only desire at that moment was to wash away the day and all the pain that had come with it, especially the chill of Alex’s angry voice.

It pained her to no end to fight with him, because above all, she did love him. She did love her kids, but why did he continue to try to make her choose?  Why did he continue to make her feel angry or lonely and unloved? 

“Why, why, why,” she muttered.

There was no need to beat herself up; she did know that.  There was no reason to be angry with him when all he wanted was more of her; she knew that.  It was the things that she didn’t know that bothered her so.  Grabbing the remote, she turned on the stereo to drown out her thoughts, selected Coltrane and allowed herself to find her center. 

***

Alex’s favorite pub, The Drunken Monkey, was in the middle of lower Manhattan away from the realities of his life.  The drive was long and quiet, plenty of time for him to think, and when he arrived, he was greeted by the normal group of off-duty firemen and local familiars.  They all knew him and most were there when he walked through the door. 
Too bad home wasn’t like that. 

There were no VP’s or directors at his pub.  Just people.  Regular people who had never been in the news, never worried about the media, never been in a board room, didn’t have frequent flyer miles or hotel preferences.  And their blue-collar normalcy made him feel at home.

The door chimed as he entered and after a brief nod to the bartender, Lou, he walked over to his favorite stool at the end of the bar, pulled off his coat and hat and took a seat. 

“What you having tonight, chief?” a petite, Cuban woman said, walking up to him.  She wiped up the bar quickly with a black rag and put a bowl of beer nuts in front of him. 

“The usual, babe,” he answered, wiping his stubbly beard. “How are you doing, Lola?” he asked, more as an afterthought than anything else.

“Doing real good.  Nicky got his report card today.  All A’s,” she said, proudly.

“Good for Nicky,” he said, genuinely happy for her.  “And good for you.”

“Thanks.  I’ve been working with him daily to pull his grades up.  He’s been really focusing. I’m proud of him.  He’s going to be something special in this world just you watch.”  Lola beamed with enthusiasm. 

“Oh, I believe you. He’s already something special.  What is he…nine now?” Alex asked, taking the shot of bourbon in his hand. 

“Ten,” she said, raising her brow at his enthusiasm to get the shot down his throat.  “Double digits.  He’s a man now.”  Her brown eyes sparkled with pride.  “He has hair on his you-know-what.”

Alex chuckled. “He
is
a man then.”  Cocking his head back, he took the shot quickly, winced and then slammed the shot glass on the bar.  “Damn.”

Lola looked at the shot glass. “Long day?” she asked, concerned. 

“And only getting longer.  Can I get another?” Alex said, raising his finger.

“Sure.”  She turned her back to him to grab the bottle again and saw him watching her butt from the reflection in the mirror. “Hey, how long have you been coming in here?” she asked, turning around to catch him before he looked up.

Alex blinked.  “Twelve years,” he said, furrowing his thick brows.

“Twelve years,” Lola repeated.  “And in twelve years, you’ve never brought your wife in here.”

Alex smiled. “Oh, this isn’t Charlie’s type of place.  She’s
ritzy
, you know.  She hangs at places that have VIP lists and caters to yuppies.”  This time he didn’t try to hide his disdain for her position in her profession. 

“So I’ve heard,” she said, pouring him another glass.

Alex picked up the shot. “What have you heard?” He paused. 

Lola leaned on the bar, both arms splayed wide and gave a sly grin.  “You know that you ma
r
ried…up.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Is that what they say?” He gave a huff. 
Up his ass.
 

“Yeah, that’s what they say.”  She turned up her lip.  “So why don’t you ever try to bring her here?”

“This is my private place, my man cave. I come here to be alone.”  He looked at Lola now, really looked at her and realized that she was very beautiful.  Mid-thirties, she wore her naturally curly black hair down with a split that brought attention to her oval face, free of make-up and her bright brown eyes that sparkled in just the right light and full pink lips that reminded him so much of Charlie’s.   She was magni
f
icent, and he wasn’t even drunk enough to blame it on beer goggles. 

And suddenly like a switch that had been flipped on, his other brain started to work.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, shaking his head. It had been a long time since he had had those feelings, but he knew what they were.  Every man did. 

The good old wondering eye.  

“What?” she asked, realizing that he was checking her out.  It was his first
time ever that she could remember, and she rather liked the attention from him. 

His dark eyes burned through her for the moment, illicit thoughts running across his pupils.  And without meaning to be, Alex was transparent. 

“Nothin,” Alex muttered. 

Scratching his head, he had an epiphany. Maybe all he needed in life was the girl next door.  Maybe that was the problem.  He had gone after the wrong type of woman – the board room type-and it had landed him in the wrong type of situation.  It was a very selfish thing to think of and he hated himself for it, but it didn’t stop it from being true.  

At that moment, Alex was finally seeing clearer.  It wasn’t Charlie at all.  It was him.  He had changed.  He didn’t want a board room warrior anymore, he wanted a simple woman with no idea how to balance a multi-million dollar budget and no understanding of brutal business tactics.  Simplicity was what he nee
d
ed.  Good old fashioned barefoot, pregnant, undered
u
cated thinking that would allow him to reign supreme for a while.

Just as the thought
crystallized
in his mind, he knew that he was on the verge of going to hell for sending women back a hundred years in his thinking, but it only made his sin sweeter.

Leaning closer into the bar, he narrowed his gaze on her. “Hey, Lola. How many hours a day do you work?”

***

Charlie reveled in the sublime comfort of her co
t
ton pajamas.  After a long shower and an even longer pampering session, she headed downstairs to see what leftovers Alex had actually left for her. 

The tile under her feet felt cold when she entered into the kitchen.  Looking around the airy room, she still was amazed at what they had managed to amass together – a lovely home, a lovely life, a lovely lie.  From the outside, they were the perfect couple, but inside the passion had been gone so long until she wasn’t sure if it had ever existed.

She still liked to believe it did, that they just needed rekindling, but nights like this she felt like they were just roommates with kids.  And who knew, maybe roommates were more sexual than they were. 

In retrospect of her relationship, she realized that she should have waited longer to marry Alex.  After his near-death accident, he was eager to start a new life, but what she didn’t realize is that he would have started it with just about anyone. 

He was in a weird place then and the questions and issues that should have been addressed were put on the back burner, because of the excitement of the moment. 

A huge wedding with hundreds of upper echelon guests combined with the story of a hero and the promise of a high-profile career had blinded not only Alex but her as well.  Now, they were left with the remnants of what should have been instead of what was.

They were left with a lie.

Only, Charlie wasn’t sure how to fix this problem.  All she wanted to do was make the arguments stop, make the tension cease, maybe make love…  She knew her husband begrudged her job, her lifestyle, possibly her in general, but something in her told her that if they just got through this rough spot things would be okay.

Maybe that was a lie too. 

Tired of thinking about it, she cut off her dismal reality and dove into survival mode.  Eat. Sleep.  Ignore.  That had been the way that she had mai
n
tained lately.  There was nothing that could be done about her situation at the very moment.  Worrying about it would only raise her blood pressure and lower her spirits, a combination that would send her to the loony bin well before it would help her marriage.  

Opening the stainless steel microwave hoisted right above the oven, she pulled out a plate of chicken fajitas, rice and beans and dipped her finger into it.  Tasty.   Closing the door, she hit one minute on the dial and grabbed a Shock Top Lemon Shandy beer out of the fridge and a bottle of salsa. 

Taking her food out of the microwave, she slowly made her way down the short stairs to the cozy den attached to the kitchen and slumped down on the comfortable brown leather sofa in front of their family television. 

Placing her food on the circular wooden cocktail table, she grabbed the remote and threw her favorite chenille throw over her legs. 

“Now this is what I call a relaxing evening,” she said aloud, gearing herself up to finally settle down from her long day.  “No more drama.  No more surprises.”

As she said the words, a new news story came across CNN’s screen.  Evidently, the White House had picked a beautiful little mixed girl name Charlize Orrin’s art to represent the new campaign gearing up for the President.   

Orrin. 
She paused for a moment, the beer bottle up to her lips. 

“Nah, couldn’t be,” she said aloud.  Just a coinc
i
dence.  There was still such a thing in this life.  

Turning the volume up, she sat up on the sofa and listened attentively when suddenly there was a shot of Charlize’s entire family.  “Oh my God,” she said, flabbergasted.

There on her television was her old flame Sully and two beautiful kids, one of which was named Charlize. 

Grabbing the remote, she hit record before the st
o
ry could end.  She stared at the television, at the little girl, who remarkably looked so much like her and suddenly felt her heart nearly leap out of her chest.

The adrenaline pumping through her veins was like pure electricity.  She hung on to the reporter’s every word, looking around for a pencil or pen to write with. 

“Oh my God!” she screamed again. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?” her son, Hunter asked, wiping his eyes as he came scooting in the room in his pajamas.

Charlie looked up in a frantic state and pushed her hair out of her face.  Giving a big fake smile, she stopped in her tracks. “Hey, baby, what are you doing up?”  She immediately reached out her arms.

With big brown eyes like his father, he went over to her and curled into her arms. “I can’t sleep,” he pouted.  “Can I stay down here with you?”